The palace guards cleared the inside and outside of the Purple Glory Hall, piling corpses onto more than ten ox carts.

Most of the dead were rebels driven by profit, but many were not.

But what did that matter?

The “rebels” knew they had no way out, and when desperate, they “accidentally injured” several confidants of the Empress or Emperor, which was understandable.

The Emperor was gravely weakened and, shocked into bed rest, recuperated in the Changyang Palace north of the Imperial City.

This so-called recuperation was nothing short of a hasty escape.

Even the fiercest wolf eventually grows old, its fangs broken. In this game of father and son destroying each other, he had paid too great a price.

In the hall, Yu Huanchen clasped his hands and bowed: “This official entered the palace with troops without the three-part military token, violating military discipline. I request Your Majesty’s punishment.”

“Young General’s sole intent was to protect the Emperor, which is understandable. I absolve you of any wrongdoing.”

Behind the screen, the Emperor sat up, his voice hoarse and tired: “Today that rebellious son promised titles and positions to win over Li Mao’s Northern Garrison to force abdication during the Winter Festival. Fortunately, due to the General and his daughter’s willingness to risk their lives for protection, I was able to safely survive this calamity. I remember it in my heart and will richly reward such loyal and upright officials!”

Yu Huanchen knew this was an excellent opportunity and secretly glanced at his father beside him.

Yu Yuan, enduring his wounds, knelt with his official robe: “Fulfilling one’s duty is this official’s obligation, not to mention Your Majesty’s benevolence and wisdom, naturally blessed by heaven. I dare not claim merit for reward. But this official is aging and weakening, and my poor wife is also often ill. If Your Majesty would allow my young daughter to remain by your side to enjoy family happiness, this official would be overwhelmed with gratitude.”

The Emperor well knew that Yu Yuan wanted him to withdraw the imperial marriage decree.

But the Emperor’s word could not be retracted—to take back the decree now would be tantamount to admitting he was wrong.

The Emperor pondered for a moment and said: “General Yu is too modest! In ancient times, generals of seventy wore armor into battle. General Yu’s loyal heart and righteous courage are still in their prime; it’s too early to discuss family matters. The night is deep and snowy; General Yu should return to rest early. Tomorrow, after I consult with the Ministry of Rites, we will discuss rewards based on merit!”

Leaving Changyang Palace, Yu Yuan’s thoughts were heavy.

Descending the white jade stairs like a heavenly ladder, he asked his son: “What exactly happened when the Seventh Prince rescued the Emperor in the Purple Glory Hall today?”

Yu Huanchen understood that his father was asking about those attendants and ministers who had “sacrificed” themselves.

Some were confidants of the Emperor and Empress and others… were officials involved or who had taken over the case of “Imperial Consort Li’s escape and assassination attempt” six years ago.

Yu Huanchen, controlling the rebel remnants, was only a few yards from the Purple Glory Hall and had the opportunity to stop it.

But he didn’t.

After this palace rebellion, the court was likely no longer the current Emperor’s court.

Yu Huanchen chose to trust his sister and said: “It’s not something I can explain in a few words. Father might as well go home and ask Suisui.”

Neither father nor son expected that Suisui had disappeared.

Hutao knelt in the hall, a large purple bruise on the back of her neck, already crying a river of tears.

“The kidnappers took advantage of our all being out and the Yu residence’s reduced defenses to sneak in. They first knocked out the servants and then kidnapped Suisui.”

Yu Xinyi’s eyes were bloodshot from exhaustion, angrily saying, “When I find out which bastard did this, I’ll have them sliced into a thousand pieces!”

Yu Huanchen was calmer, stepping forward to examine the bruise on Hutao’s neck before asking: “Did they leave any note?”

Hutao sobbed: “This servant has looked everywhere, but there’s no ransom note.”

“Observing Hutao’s injury, the assailant struck several times before knocking her unconscious, indicating an impatient amateur who’s not after money,” Yu Huanchen understood. “Daring to sneak into the General’s mansion to kidnap someone is not the work of ordinary bandits. And striking while the Yu family was trapped in the palace shows the perpetrator knew about the events in the palace…”

Yu Xinyi widened her eyes: “Someone from the palace?”

Could it be that the Crown Prince’s lackeys, seeing their plan exposed, kidnapped his sister to use as a bargaining chip for their survival?

Yu Yuan didn’t even pause to drink a cup of hot tea, clenching his fist and saying in a deep voice: “Go check immediately—see who among today’s rebels escaped from the palace amid the chaos!”

Yu Xinyi, despite her injuries, was about to follow out the door but was stopped by Yu Huanchen: “Take care of the family and suppress this news. Especially with the Xue family’s frequent visits these days, don’t let them catch wind of this, lest they make a big issue of it.”

Only then did Yu Xinyi reluctantly comply.

……

The wind and snow raged, blowing frost and ice flowers from the trees.

At the Seventh Prince’s residence, the falling snow instantly covered the red blood on the ground.

Yu Lingxi was sheltered under a thick black cloak, creating a clean little sanctuary, her nose filled with the faint woody fragrance from Ning Yin’s body.

The wind, snow, and incense covered the heavy smell of blood in the courtyard.

“Dig out Wang Lingqing’s brain and liver and feed them to the dogs,” Ning Yin said, his chest vibrating slightly as he spoke.

For some reason, Yu Lingxi felt his tone was not as casual and playful as in her previous life, but rather carried a hint of cold anger that was difficult to detect.

He was angry at Wang Lingqing, but why?

Before she could understand this subtle emotional change in Ning Yin, the cloak shielding her from the blood loosened and fell, letting light pour back in.

Yu Lingxi pressed against his chest, looked up along his clean, cold jawline, and met those incredibly familiar ink-black eyes.

She blinked and gave him a faint smile of reunion.

In such circumstances, she still had the heart to smile.

Ning Yin’s eyebrows moved slightly, and he instinctively grabbed her wrist.

He caught the place where the rough rope had rubbed and broken skin. Yu Lingxi pressed her lips together, frowning slightly.

Ning Yin suddenly released his grip, looked at her swollen red wrist for a moment, then changed to grabbing her wedding dress by the collar, crossing the courtyard, turning through the corridor, and carrying her like a chicken chick to a bedchamber.

Then, without mercy, he kicked open the door.

Dazzling warm light greeted them.

The layout of this chamber was very familiar, seemingly quite similar to the prince’s chambers in her previous life, unexpectedly giving her a strange sense of homecoming.

But this was not the time to think about such things, because Ning Yin looked somewhat displeased.

“Slow… slow down!” Yu Lingxi stumbled.

Ning Yin’s pace didn’t seem fast, but due to his long legs, she struggled to keep up.

Ning Yin ignored her, closed the door behind him, and brought Yu Lingxi to a carved wide couch in the inner chamber.

Floor-standing flower branch lamps shone like stars, charcoal basins provided warmth, and beast-shaped incense burners burned fragrance, but Ning Yin was covered only in the frost and snow of millennia-old solitude.

He took off his cloak and tossed it carelessly on the ground, then turned to sit on the couch, looking at Yu Lingxi as if contemplating how to deal with this “gift” that had once caused him “so much humiliation.”

Undeniably, Yu Lingxi looked stunning in vibrant red—snow-white skin, ink-black hair, the red dress so beautiful it seemed to burn the gaze. Yet he found it only obstructive and jarring.

Extremely jarring.

Yu Lingxi saw him slowly narrowing his eyes and knew the time for reckoning had come.

Without any noticeable movement, a dagger thin as autumn water appeared between his fingers, carelessly twirling.

“Come here,” he said.

Yu Lingxi thought for a moment, then took two steps toward him.

Ning Yin didn’t even look up, so she took two more slow steps, her skirt hem almost touching his knees.

Only then did Ning Yin slowly raise his eyes to look at her, the blade tip in his fingers tracing up her hanging sleeve, crossing the elbow, and landing on her slender waist?

The feeling of the dagger pressing against the fabric was peculiar as if even through several layers of clothing, one could feel the sharpness and coldness of the blade.

Then the knife tip flicked, and with a soft “pat” sound of fabric tearing, the sash around Yu Lingxi’s waist fell off.

She trembled but remained standing.

Ning Yin’s dagger moved higher, landing on the contour of her rising and falling chest, another flick, and the dress ties broke open. The exquisitely made wedding dress loosened to her elbows, revealing the pure white undergarment beneath.

Next came the skirt tie.

The magnificent wedding dress was cut open piece by piece under his blade, and stripped away, becoming a pile of exquisite torn fabric, layered like fire and begonia at Yu Lingxi’s feet.

Until only the pure white undergarments remained, as pristine as snow.

Was she afraid? Of course not.

If it were the Yu Lingxi from her previous life who was sent to the prince’s residence, she would certainly have been terrified. But the current Yu Lingxi didn’t even have time to regret the beautiful garment that took three months to make.

Who would fear someone they loved?

As the dust settled, Ning Yin had also gotten his wish.

The dark clouds pressing on his heart were gradually dispersing. The moment the complex wedding attire slid off her body piece by piece was also the lightest, most liberating moment for her in months.

The torn crimson outer garment still hung precariously on her arms, giving her quite the appearance of a bewitching concubine. Yu Lingxi cleared her throat, took it off herself, and let it fall at her feet like a magnificent sunset.

She could tell Ning Yin disliked her attire, even though the thin undergarments were hardly warm, making her feel cold even near the charcoal basin.

Ning Yin was satisfied with her understanding and finally put away the short blade.

Yu Lingxi picked up the cloak he had thrown down and wrapped herself in it, the black fox fur collar making her face look small and radiant.

Ning Yin raised his eyelids slightly but said nothing.

So Yu Lingxi took the opportunity to ask softly: “My family doesn’t know I’m a ‘guest’ at Your Highness’s residence and might worry. Could I send them a letter?”

Ning Yin sat cross-legged on the couch, sneering: “What do you think?”

That meant no.

A few months ago, she had also used sending a letter home to report her safety as an opportunity to make a two-day appointment with Yu Huanchen. After daybreak, she had left resolutely.

Indeed, Ning Yin said slowly: “Lingxi seems to misunderstand her position. A gift, I’m afraid, doesn’t have the right to make requests.”

He called her Lingxi.

Not “Miss,” nor “Suisui.”

Yu Lingxi found this name both familiar and wistful.

But she remained at ease. With her experience from her previous life, plus a measure of genuine affection she couldn’t suppress, the words to coax him came naturally.

“Then, what would give me that right?” she asked with a bright smile, softening her voice.

“No rush,” Ning Yin said meaningfully. “I like to play slowly.”

He emphasized the word “play” particularly strongly as if savoring something.

Yu Lingxi didn’t know what mischief he was planning, thought for a moment, and decided to try once more: “Even a gift needs to arrange her hair. I left in a hurry and forgot to bring my hairpin.”

She looked into Ning Yin’s eyes and added: “The one with blood threads, the spiral auspicious cloud white jade hairpin.”

Ning Yin’s finger paused.

Then he stood up, his tall figure instantly looming over Yu Lingxi.

“Lingxi needn’t play tricks, they won’t work.”

He bent down, playing with Yu Lingxi’s cool, smooth hair strands with his fingers, chuckling: “With my cautious and grudge-holding nature, I would never stumble twice in the same place.”

After saying this, Ning Yin truly ignored her.

Someone knocked on the door, presenting him with a register.

Ning Yin leaned back on the couch and leisurely began to read it, occasionally circling something with a vermilion brush.

The room was so quiet that only the light crackling of charcoal fire could be heard.

Yu Lingxi was not constrained; she stood for a while, then, feeling tired, found a place to sit on a nearby footstool.

She hugged her knees, resting her chin on them, her black hair parting at her neck, revealing a small bruise on the delicate skin at the back of her neck.

It must have been caused by Wang Lingqing’s men when they kidnapped her, not knowing their strength.

Ning Yin’s ink-colored eyes settled for a moment, then he suddenly gave a light cough.

Yu Lingxi turned back, looking at him questioningly.

“Come up.”

Ning Yin closed the register, pointing to the warm inner side of the bed couch. “The warm couch.”