Yu Lingxi didn’t want to go to hell with Ning Yin.

There were so many beautiful things in the human world—the wind, flowers, snow, moon, mountains, and rivers stretching for thousands of miles. She wanted to walk through them all with Ning Yin, turning the regrets of her previous life into fulfillment.

But Yu Lingxi was still a tiny bit angry, not only because of the arrow shot at her brother but also because of Ning Yin’s obsessive and paranoid nature. She had no intention of letting this matter slide.

“In the future, I’ll regularly send word to my family, telling them I’m fine here, until four days later when chaos erupts.”

She took the opportunity to make a request, telling him: “If you’re worried, you can read the contents of the letters, but you mustn’t stop me from sending them, understood?”

Ning Yin’s face remained expressionless as he pinched her waist.

“That’s enough.”

His voice carried the laziness of someone who had relaxed, as he smiled gently. “If ordinary people spoke to me like this, their tongues would be cut out.”

Yu Lingxi snorted, turning around in his embrace. She gathered the scattered herbs, red beans, and the note, putting them back into the sachet, tightening the drawstring into an elegant knot, and hanging it back on Ning Yin’s belt.

“I’ll only give this once, so keep it safe.”

She was dressed thinly and had just been out in the wind, causing her fingertips to turn slightly red from the cold.

Ning Yin didn’t answer, merely raising his arms slightly and saying in a low voice: “Come to your lover’s embrace.”

Yu Lingxi faced him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

Ning Yin took the opportunity to draw her into his arms, using one hand to open his garment and press her hand against his chest, warming her fingertips with the hottest heartbeat of his body.

The cold palm suddenly pressed to his heart must have been painfully chilling.

He slowly stroked Yu Lingxi’s hair, confining her with his body, his heart’s warmth causing her fingertips to curl slightly.

The day before the wedding.

As usual, Ning Yin left early and returned late. When busy, he would disappear for days and nights; when free, he would call for her to accompany him brewing tea and contemplating in silence, as if he had forgotten about the imperial marriage decree between the Xue and Yu families.

Subordinates came and went, reporting court matters ranging from Consort Hui’s sudden death, the adoption of the less than one-year-old prince by the Empress, to personnel changes at the Censorate—every detail was covered, yet none related to canceling the marriage.

Yu Lingxi dipped her brush in ink, and could only furiously console herself: let’s see who loses patience first.

She wrote a letter home, informing her family that she was well and that the wedding preparations should proceed as normal to avoid giving others a pretext to cause trouble.

After finishing and drying the ink, she folded the letter and handed it to an attendant outside the door, then returned to her room and lay on the couch, letting it all go.

One cup of tea later, this letter reached Ning Yin’s hands.

With one finger pressed against his temple, he examined the thin piece of paper, his gaze lingering on the line “wedding hall preparations to proceed as normal.”

Several trusted subordinates stood silently nearby, awaiting orders.

Since the palace coup, numerous positions at court had been vacant, including lucrative posts in the Ministry of Revenue and Ministry of War. Yet Ning Yin had first planted his pawns in the Censorate.

His vision extended beyond immediate benefits; by controlling the Censorate, he could control the direction of the court.

After some time, Prince Jing methodically folded the letter and instructed: “Have the people at the Censorate prepare a memorial.”

In Kunning Palace, Cui An bowed as he entered.

Seeing the Empress on the couch soothing the little prince to sleep, he casually took a comb from a palace maid’s hand and slowly began to comb the Empress’s hair.

The infant in swaddling clothes was not yet a year old and, unaware that he no longer had a birth mother, slept sweetly.

The Empress sat up without showing any reaction, slightly lifting a finger to dismiss the palace maids.

Cui An then quietly reported: “Your Majesty, the newly appointed Censor Liu left home in his official robes two quarter-hours ago, preparing to enter the palace for an audience.”

The Empress looked at the slanting light cast on the remaining snow outside and said: “At this hour, what does he have to report?”

Cui An answered: “It’s said he has some unfavorable evidence against Right Prime Minister Xue. Should I intervene…”

“Send a message to the Xue family; there’s no need for us to wade into these murky waters.”

The Empress’s empty gaze fell on the sleeping infant as she asked, “What about those concubines from the Eastern Palace who were pregnant?”

“The Emperor, considering their pregnancy, did not execute them but confined them in the Consorts’ Palace. Their pregnancies are now nearly full term.”

Cui paused before continuing, “Once born, the children will be slaves for generations.”

“In that case, they need not be born. Otherwise, His Majesty might remember one day and feel troubled.”

The Empress patted the infant’s swaddling clothes and said calmly, “Take care of it.”

At the western residence of the Yu manor, servants were hanging red silk and auspicious characters.

Seeing Xue Cen arrive, Yu Huanchen was somewhat surprised.

Given the current superficially cordial but inwardly estranged relationship between the two families, or his current status as “fiancé,” he shouldn’t have come at this time.

Xue Cen had lost some weight but remained elegant and handsome. He spoke only one sentence: “Achen, is Second Miss still well?”

Yu Huanchen’s heart tightened, nearly thinking that Xue Cen already knew about his younger sister staying at Prince Jing’s mansion.

But quickly, he dismissed this thought.

Xue Cen’s gaze appeared clean and gentle as if he was simply worried about Yu Lingxi after not having news of her for so long.

“Suisui is fine,” Yu Huanchen replied.

Xue Cen sighed slightly in relief, then asked: “May I trouble Achen to pass a message to Second Miss, asking if she could spare a moment to chat with me?”

Of course not!

“Meeting at this time would be improper. Tomorrow is the wedding day…”

At this point, Yu Huanchen paused significantly.

He knew perfectly well that tomorrow would likely see no wedding, only earth-shattering chaos.

Foolish Suisui had her heart set on the Seventh Prince; she stayed for him and would flee for him.

But Xue Cen knew nothing of this. He merely frowned slightly before conceding.

“I was being presumptuous. But Achen, please protect Second Miss well these two days. Since returning from Prince Jing’s mansion that day, I’ve been uneasy, always worried something might happen to her.”

He smiled and said gently, “I hope I’m overthinking. What could happen to her in the General’s manor?”

“Acen…” Yu Huanchen’s feelings were complex.

His friendship with Xue Cen spanned over a decade, from childhood’s ‘scholar meets soldier’ mutual dislike to adolescent and adult confidants. No one knew better than he what kind of person Xue Cen was.

He was too pure, living under the protection of three generations, pure to the point of foolishness. This was what Yu Huanchen admired most—such a person had no schemes and would not betray his sister.

But even now, Xue Cen naively believed there could be a solution that would hurt no one.

Yu Huanchen understood Xue Cen’s innocence but would never forgive the Xue family; this was his bottom line.

“It’s nothing.”

Seeing Xue Cen’s puzzled look, Yu Huanchen changed his words: “Suisui is very safe, don’t worry.”

“Achen.”

For some reason, Xue Cen suddenly had an impulse, almost blurting out something.

He swallowed and after a long while asked: “No matter what happens in the future, will we still be friends?”

Yu Huanchen thought for a moment and said: “Of course.”

Xue Cen nodded, solemnly bowed, then turned and walked toward his carriage.

In the carriage, Xue Cen closed his eyes, leaning against the wall, his fingers clenched.

Just now, for a moment, he had wanted to confess that his elder brother was involved with Cui An in the “disaster grain” case, but thinking of his grandfather and father, he had swallowed the words that had almost escaped.

After a moment of confusion came a heavier self-reproach. He felt ashamed of his baseness.

By nightfall, the wind mingled with snow pellets, and the hall was full of festive red silk.

At the fifth watch with the rooster’s crow, the Xue household bustled with activity. Countless servants came and went, fruit fragrances wafted through the air as they prepared for the grandest wedding the capital had seen in recent years.

Xue Cen hadn’t slept all night. The bright red wedding attire on the wooden rack gleamed with a pale golden luster in the candlelight, with lifelike auspicious birds and clouds on the lapel.

Immersed in this magnificent festive dream, he temporarily set aside his worries, seriously bathed and changed, and then proceeded to the hall to receive his grandfather’s instruction according to custom.

Passing by the study, he heard his father’s lowered scolding voice.

“Failed?”

He asked, his voice unusually stern.

“There were too many eyes on the street, our people couldn’t stop it.” The hoarse voice belonged to his elder brother.

Xue Cen involuntarily stopped.

The study was silent for a long time before his father’s voice came: “Investigate who’s behind this.”

“No need.”

Grandfather’s hoarse, aged voice sounded, carrying rare fatigue. “Now that the second son is married, this old bag of bones should step down. The family business will eventually pass to the two young men.”

Then the door opened, and Right Prime Minister Xue, in full official robes, leaning on a cane, slowly stepped out.

Xue Cen immediately retreated to the side and respectfully said: “Grandfather is going to the palace?”

Right Prime Minister Xue let out a long, turbid breath and nodded: “Yes.”

“Today is grandson’s wedding day, is there some urgent matter…”

“You needn’t concern yourself with these matters.”

Right Prime Minister Xue interrupted him: “The only thing you need to do is smoothly bring the second Miss Yu into our family, and not disappoint His Majesty’s favor.”

Xue Cen watched his grandfather board the carriage for the palace, uneasy in his heart.

Fortunately, in half a day, he would exchange vows with the one he loved.

He didn’t aspire to win Second Miss’s love, but if only power could protect his beloved, he was willing to learn the ways of officialdom, strive to become stronger, and spend his life respecting and protecting her.

This was what he owed her.

The wedding day.

Mao hour, before the court assembly.

The Emperor had a headache all night, first with the Censorate officials jointly impeaching the Xue family for close private connections with the deposed Crown Prince, then with General Yu entering the palace to petition to resign his military post to accompany his family.

How could the Emperor possibly cut off his arm by allowing Yu Yuan to resign and return home?

As he was troubled by this, a court official announced: “Your Majesty, Right Prime Minister Xue kneels at length outside the hall, seeking an audience.”

Given Right Prime Minister Xue’s nearly seventy years of age and the freezing weather, the Emperor still showed some consideration. After coughing several times, he wearily said: “Summon him.”

Right Prime Minister Xue’s knees were wet from kneeling, with frost from ice and snow clinging to his beard and hair. Upon entering the hall, he tremblingly leaned on his cane and knelt.

He touched his forehead to the ground and kowtowed: “This old minister is aged and muddled, unable to bear high office. I now voluntarily retire to my hometown and hope for Your Majesty’s gracious approval!”

At these words, the Emperor’s heart sank halfway.

It seemed that the Xue family’s secret association with the deposed Crown Prince was most likely true, and those unburned letters were certainly not forgeries.

This old fox Right Prime Minister Xue wanted to abandon the chariot to save the pawns, voluntarily stepping down to preserve his two grandsons’ official careers.

Thinking of this, the Emperor let out a long sigh.

He had been on the throne for over twenty years, and in the end, couldn’t tell who was loyal and who was treacherous. Almost everyone had deceived him, betrayed him…

Was this Heaven’s punishment for him?

…

Another who hadn’t slept all night was Yu Lingxi.

It was already bright daylight, but there was still no movement from Ning Yin’s side; he had been absent all night again.

Today was her wedding day—she was about to marry Xue Cen!

Yu Lingxi forcefully turned over.

However, even without Ning Yin’s intervention, the Yu family would certainly not let her marry blindly.

But Ning Yin was different.

At Chen hour, the time for dressing and putting on the wedding gown, Ning Yin finally arrived belatedly.

As soon as Yu Lingxi heard the sound of his return, she scrambled up and went to the study.

Seeing her enter, the subordinates knowingly bowed and withdrew.

Ning Yin wore a large cloak, his face imbued with the chill of a sleepless night, as he burned some unknown document in the fire basin.

As the firelight danced, he caressed a familiar jade carving in his hand.

Yu Lingxi stood alone for a while, then couldn’t help but sit across from him, saying stubbornly: “Today is my wedding day, but you’ve ruined my wedding dress.”

Ning Yin looked up at her.

Yu Lingxi felt increasingly aggrieved, frowning slightly: “You must compensate me!”