Xiaoying lowered her gaze at her lord, who was crouching down, shook her head with an amused smile, and placed her hands on Feng Yuan’s broad shoulders, allowing him to wipe her feet.

After her delicate feet were dried, Xiaoying put on her wooden clogs, stretched lazily, and began to stroll forward.

The wooden clogs tapped against the moss-covered stone path, creating rhythmic sounds. The young woman’s willow-like waist swayed gently as she walked along leisurely, swinging her sleeves with evident pleasure.

“Where is this place?” she asked.

“A garden my maternal grandfather left to my mother. According to the old servant, my mother brought me here to live until I was three years old. Afterward, no one came to stay here. Fortunately, the Ye family’s old servants remained, preventing the garden from becoming desolate,” Feng Yuan answered in a deep voice as he walked behind her with an umbrella, shielding her from the rain.

Though the Ye family couldn’t compare to the Tang family’s prestigious status, they were still a family with considerable heritage.

Back then, Master Ye was a close friend of Swordmaster Xiao Jiumu. To strengthen his originally frail daughter’s health, he had her learn martial arts from Master Xiao.

It was also for this reason that Ye Zhanxue met that handsome yet obscure kinsman of the Feng family.

Xiaoying thought: if Ye Zhanxue hadn’t become entangled in the Feng family’s rise to power, but instead lived like an ordinary woman who found a compatible husband to spend her life with, perhaps she wouldn’t have departed so early, leaving behind her young son.

Would she still be leisurely enjoying flowers in this courtyard, experiencing the simple joys of a life away from turmoil?

The courtyard was simple yet elegant, with the unique charm of the Jiangzhe region, and was filled with precious flowers and plants.

Halfway through their walk, Xiaoying noticed a rare species of orchid. If she remembered correctly, it was called “Snow-Soaked Orchid.”

This same flower grew in the desolate Tianlu Palace where Feng Yuan had been imprisoned, and he had tended to it quite well.

Feng Yuan stood beside her, touching the orchid leaves covered with raindrops: “This was my mother’s favorite flower when she was alive. She also embroidered this on the clothes she made for me…”

His mother appeared as a blurred image in Feng Yuan’s mind, but perhaps the Snow-Soaked Orchids meticulously embroidered on each small garment had become a representation of his mother.

Xiaoying knew this garden held extraordinary significance for Feng Yuan.

For some reason, after entering this garden, Feng Yuan seemed much more relaxed than usual; his cold expressions had softened considerably.

It was evident this place made him feel comfortable. But why had he brought her here?

Just then, a voice came from the adjacent moon gate: “Xiaoying!”

Xiaoying looked up and saw her brother Feng Qiyuan leaning on a cane, joyfully rushing toward her.

“Brother!” Xiaoying exclaimed with wide eyes, smiling as she went to meet him.

So Feng Yuan had deliberately chosen a rainy night when they were less likely to be followed, shook off the Dragon Scale Shadow Guards, and brought Xiaoying here to reunite with her brother for a few days.

Xiaoying turned back to him reproachfully: “If this was your intention, why didn’t you say so earlier?”

She had thought Feng Yuan had improper intentions and had nearly kicked him to death in the carriage.

Feng Yuan raised his eyebrows but didn’t say that he had seen Ge Di Shi give things to his teacher’s wife in a roundabout way without explanation.

The Imperial Tutor had called this a “surprise.”

However, this approach didn’t work well with this lady. Those kicks from her would have shattered the liver and lungs of anyone else, causing them to spit blood and die.

Feng Yuan did keep his promise – he had once promised that after reaching Jiangzhe, he would let the siblings reunite properly, and he had not broken his word.

However, his generosity extended only this far. When Xiaoying and Feng Qiyuan were reuniting, Feng Yuan did not make an appearance.

It seemed that when Feng Yuan said he disliked Qiyuan, he wasn’t pretending.

His remaining kindness could only sustain his promise, but he couldn’t engage in pointless social niceties with his former Fourth Brother, sharing drinks and pleasant conversation.

But this was for the best. Given Feng Qiyuan’s fear of him, the two would probably be unable to speak if they were together.

The siblings could finally sit down and drink wine together, having a calm and peaceful conversation.

Feng Qiyuan told Xiaoying that in a few days, he wanted to go north with a theater troupe from Youma Town.

The troupe leader thought highly of him, praising him as a natural dan role performer.

During the audition, when Qiyuan first applied makeup and took to the stage, although there weren’t many spectators that day, and his leg hadn’t fully healed, preventing him from performing many elaborate movements, the satisfaction of being applauded and cheered by the audience moved Feng Qiyuan so deeply that he would wake up crying from dreams about it.

It turned out he wasn’t entirely useless!

But the Grand Prince said this was a major decision he couldn’t make on his own, so Xiaoying’s approval was needed before Feng Qiyuan could leave with the troupe.

That day, Xiaoying and Feng Qiyuan talked until late into the night. Feng Qiyuan expressed some regret at not seeing his father.

Xiaoying couldn’t bring herself to tell him about their father and adoptive father being trapped at Mount Ding. She would bear these burdens herself; her brother needn’t carry them – he should only live the life he wished to live.

So she merely said their father had gone on a distant business trip, and that when her brother returned from the north, the three of them would surely reunite as a family.

By the time she rose the next morning, the heavy rain had stopped.

A maid brought Xiaoying fresh clothes to change into.

It was a complete set of women’s gowns, made of fine fabric with subtle patterns. From childhood to adulthood, Xiaoying had never worn such attire. Even after entering the palace, although wrapped in precious silk, she had always worn men’s clothing.

So she was in no hurry to put them on, holding up the gown to admire it for quite a while before finally getting dressed with the maid’s help.

However, she declined the matching hairpin. Xiaoying had the maid simply arrange her hair in a simple bun before going to find Feng Yuan.

This Grand Prince, though repeatedly claiming to despise Feng Qiyuan and using Qiyuan to threaten her, had not mistreated his former Fourth Brother.

He had even arranged for proper, continued treatment of her brother’s injured leg.

And according to her brother, since the bandit incident, they had moved here from Youma Town several days ago. He was well-provided for in terms of food and clothing, with countless precious play scripts. Feng Qiyuan was quite content with his situation.

Both emotionally and rationally, she needed to thank Feng Yuan on behalf of her brother.

As she walked along the stone path, she saw Feng Yuan sitting leisurely reading a book in a pavilion near the stream.

Dressed in a loose, light gray robe with his long hair simply tied back, the tall and handsome young man had a homely air about him, appearing less gloomy and more approachable.

Hearing the sound of wooden clogs tapping against the stone path, Feng Yuan looked up to see the graceful woman walking toward him.

In his mind, he had imagined countless times how this woman would look in a dress, but those empty imaginings couldn’t compare to the charming beauty before his eyes.

A plain-colored gauze gown with wide, immortal sleeves perfectly complemented the woman’s willow-like waist and temperament. The layered wide sleeves revealed her tender lotus-like wrists, with a touch of red at the waist, making her figure all the more graceful.

As she walked, a pair of ebony clogs peeked out from beneath her skirt.

She seemed at ease, preferring these unrestrained wooden clogs to the embroidered shoes she could have worn.

Having adopted feminine attire, her black hair no longer needed to be bound up; it was now partially arranged in a twisted bun while the rest cascaded down her back.

That clear face, though still without powder or rouge – what need had youth for cosmetics to adorn its natural rosy lips and cheeks?

She suited this gown even better than he had imagined…

Xiaoying approached with swaying hips, gracefully ascending to the pavilion, and leaned against a pillar to thank Feng Yuan.

But while she was speaking properly, Feng Yuan’s eyes remained fixed on her, responding with absentminded grunts that suggested he wasn’t listening.

So Xiaoying tested him by saying: “Perhaps I should go find Mu Hanjiang and soak in the hot springs again…”

“Hmm…” came his response.

Now Yan Xiaoying was certain. She promptly removed one wooden clog, flipped her wrist, and threw it at Feng Yuan: “What are you thinking about, being so absent-minded?”

What annoyed her wasn’t just his perfunctory attitude, but also his ambiguous, profound gaze that was rather inappropriate, even somewhat bold as it fixed upon her face – who knew what he was thinking?

Feng Yuan came to his senses, caught the clog, and rose to stand before Xiaoying, his tall figure completely enveloping her slender form.

He stood rather close, so close that all Xiaoying could smell was the cold fragrance of Snow-Soaked Orchid from his clothes.

With nowhere to retreat, Xiaoying could only lean against the pavilion pillar, extending a finger to press against Feng Yuan’s chest, watching him warily.

But he merely handed the clog back to her and asked: “What do you plan to do with Qiyuan?”

With that, the tall man turned and sat back down on the mat, arranging the tea set and brewing tea.

Once Feng Yuan’s imposing presence withdrew, Xiaoying exhaled slowly and sat down on the mat as well.

Watching Feng Yuan pour tea, she said: “Since he has escaped his cage, why should I build another one for him? Does he need his sister’s permission to do what he wants to do? Naturally, I should let him pursue his desires… But are you truly willing to let Qiyuan leave? Without him, how will you control this chess piece that is me?”

Feng Yuan handed the fragrant tea to Xiaoying and replied calmly: “If you truly wanted to leave, could a mere brother restrain you? In this chess game, are there not things you wish to obtain?”

Xiaoying smiled, knowing that her questions about the “courage” symbol pattern that day, coupled with her not leaving her room for a day and night, had made Feng Yuan realize something. That’s why he had angrily kicked the door that day, thinking she had left without saying goodbye.

But seeing she was still here, he had deduced that she didn’t want to leave, which had calmed his fury.

This was good, though. Only mutually beneficial cooperation could sustain them longer.

She temporarily needed Feng Qiyuan’s identity as cover, and more importantly, she needed this identity to help her adoptive father escape his predicament.

Feng Yuan was generous in his dealings; she couldn’t be too petty. So she proactively picked up a pastry, habitually took a bite, and then held it to Feng Yuan’s lips.

The smile gradually crept into Feng Yuan’s eyes. The handsome young lord with his somewhat gloomy disposition revealed a certain youthful air when he truly smiled.

He ate the pastry from Xiaoying’s hand.

After he had eaten it, Xiaoying suddenly realized that this was his mother’s courtyard, not the treacherous deep palace.

Besides, Feng Yuan had already eaten half the plate of pastries; there was no need for her to taste-test for poison.

This showed how bad habits truly were – once deeply ingrained, they were difficult to break.

Before she could finish regretting this, Feng Yuan very naturally took her hand and stood up: “Come, let me show you my mother’s collection.”

His words carried an eager pride as he walked with large strides.

Xiaoying, in her wooden clogs, could barely keep up and had to lift her skirt to trot after him.

Feng Yuan’s hands were as beautiful as the rest of him.

But in that desolate palace, years of rough manual work had imbued these hands with a weathering inappropriate for his age.

The pads of his fingers were covered with thin calluses, and when he gripped someone, it was difficult to control his strength, creating a painful sensation of being firmly seized with no possibility of escape.

However, Feng Yuan was a quick learner. After painfully squeezing Xiaoying’s hand several times, he had finally mastered the right amount of pressure – it no longer hurt so much, though escape remained impossible…

Only after entering the study beyond a bamboo grove did Xiaoying understand the source of Feng Yuan’s proud tone.

She was astounded by the collection of books here.

Bookshelves reaching up to the main beam were filled with scrolls of various sizes, with content even more diverse than in the imperial palace.

Xiaoying picked up several volumes at random and discovered that these books were not mere decorations. They were categorized by subject, with the same graceful handwriting providing annotations throughout.

These must have been carefully annotated by Feng Yuan’s mother, Ye Zhanxue, after thorough reading.

No wonder she was a woman whom Master Xiao Tianyang couldn’t forget, remaining unmarried his entire life for her sake.

Her beauty and martial prowess needed no mention; her talent alone was elegant and cultured.

Such an extraordinary woman, accomplished in both literary and martial arts, would have seemed wasted as an empress, too exceptional for such an ordinary role.

How much more unjust was her ultimately unbearable fate?

Feng Yuan, so intelligent and sensitive, had inherited his mother’s gifts.

Xiaoying wandered between the layered bookshelves, somewhat surprised: “Did your mother read all of these?”

Feng Yuan nodded, his gaze as gentle as spring water flowing down from snowy mountains, showing a vitality unlike his usual demeanor.

“The old servant who looks after the courtyard says that mother deliberately moved all her book collection here before she died, saying that when I came to visit her family in the future, I could come and read them… Unfortunately, after my mother passed away, I’ve only visited a few times.”

Xiaoying flipped through the book in her hands, looking at the rows of annotations, suddenly understanding the late Princess Ye’s intentions.

These books were Ye Zhanxue’s life journal. If they had remained in the prince’s mansion, they would likely have been cleared away as old items by the new princess consort.

Every mountain and river Ye Zhanxue had visited, her unique insights into classics and histories, were all recorded in annotations on these books, allowing her to share moments of joy and insight with her son across the barrier of life and death.

These rows of books were Ye Zhanxue’s way of compensating for her son’s blank memories of his mother, enabling mother and son, though separated by death, to converse heart-to-heart in another way…

Having realized this, she solemnly put down the book, uncharacteristically awkward: “Should I not be looking at these?”

Feng Yuan, however, flipped through a book unconcernedly: “Aren’t books meant to be read? Why shouldn’t you look at them?”

As they talked, Feng Yuan asked Xiaoying what she liked to read, then brought a ladder and found the books she preferred.

Then he sat at the table organizing painting albums and papers, completely at ease.

Xiaoying held her book, reading absentmindedly.

Qiyuan would leave with the theater troupe tomorrow, but from what Feng Yuan had said, he intended to keep her here for a few days.

Why was this?

When Xiaoying asked when they would return, Feng Yuan didn’t even look up as he replied: “Isn’t it tiring to always keep up pretenses? What’s wrong with staying here quietly for a few days?”

Yan Xiaoying hadn’t expected Feng Yuan to give such a reason, and momentarily didn’t know how to refute him.

For an idle Crown Prince or heir apparent, such a serene place would indeed be appealing.

But she couldn’t afford a moment’s leisure, her heart anxious about Mount Ding. How could she waste time here?

As she was considering her words, thinking about how to persuade Feng Yuan to return, he suddenly took out a map from a small leather tube at his side, unfolded it, and went to the adjacent painting room.

As he walked by, Xiaoying’s sharp eyes noticed that the map appeared to be of Mount Ding!

A glance was enough for Xiaoying to discern seventy percent of it, drawn with such precision that it could not possibly be a civilian item.

How bold Feng Yuan was, daring to take such a confidential document from the military camp! Even as a prince, he shouldn’t do this!

She thought for a moment, found a book of local legends, flipped through a few pages, then removed her wooden clogs. Barefoot, she lifted her skirt and silently entered the adjacent painting room.

Feng Yuan was currently facing away from her, engrossed in drawing something.

Xiaoying walked behind him, mentally memorizing the map, then suddenly spoke: “How daring you are. Does General Chen know you stole a military map to bring back here?”

Hearing her voice, Feng Yuan turned to look at her and calmly explained: “It’s not a military map. It was drawn by my mother.”

Did his mother, Ye Zhanxue, drew it? Xiaoying looked more carefully and indeed saw it was a yellowed old map.

Ye Zhanxue was truly talented.

Mount Ding had such complex terrain that even her adoptive father and his group, hiding there, dared not venture into its deepest parts for fear of getting lost. Yet Ye Zhanxue had been able to draw it so precisely? Was there anything this female general couldn’t do?

“The Ye family lived in seclusion in Jiangzhe for many years. My maternal grandfather enjoyed travel journals of mountains and waters, and had specially hired people to draw maps of nearby mountains and rivers, all collected and organized by my mother.”

Feng Yuan took another piece of parchment and copied his mother’s map of Mount Ding, adding standard military markings to create a map useful for military operations.

Watching his drawing skills, it was clear he had completely inherited his mother’s talent, skillfully creating an even more detailed version.

Xiaoying stood with her book, silently watching for a while, then put down the scroll and pretended to helpfully grind ink for Feng Yuan, but her heart sank.

She was too familiar with the local terrain not to recognize the value of Feng Yuan’s military map.

“With your assistance, General Chen will surely be like a tiger with wings!” Xiaoying probed.

The reason Mount Ding was easy to defend but difficult to attack lay in its complex terrain.

Yet here in Feng Yuan’s study was his mother’s exclusive topographic map.

Once Feng Yuan presented this map to General Chen, the Dafeng army would understand the terrain. If they successfully entered the mountain and blocked the few labyrinthine exits of Mount Ding, her adoptive father and the others would be captured before winter!

But after putting down his brush, Feng Yuan spoke coldly: “Why would I give this to him?”

Xiaoying was puzzled: “If not to help General Chen, why are you drawing it?”

Feng Yuan still didn’t answer, but a cold smile played on his lips.

Xiaoying suddenly remembered the gossip Jin Zhong had told her. The imperial palace’s trained informants were unstoppable even in Jiangzhe territory.

Jin Zhong had heard from Feng Yuan’s attendant that Feng Yuan had clashed with General Chen on his first day in the military camp.

Although General Chen was an old subordinate of General Yezhong, the two men had been at odds for a long time.

After leaving the Ye family army, Chen Nuo had established his force and gained Emperor Chunde’s favor by stepping over Ye Zhong. Now the two counterbalanced each other at court.

It was said that he had once been disciplined with military flogging by Ye Zhong, beaten so severely he couldn’t rise for half a month. Now that Ye Zhong’s nephew by marriage had been assigned to his command, General Chen had found an outlet for both new grudges and old hatred.

Besides, what was there to fear from a murderous, insane prince? He only needed to be fed well and given cold treatment.

If the Grand Prince truly went berserk and killed people indiscriminately, Chen Nuo would have an excuse to package the madman back to Emperor Chunde.

In the end, the illustrious Grand Prince hadn’t even entered the commander’s tent. Amid the sneers and mockery of the soldiers, he had been assigned to stay with the logistics staff, responsible for looking after horses and transferring grain supplies.

Logically, Feng Yuan could have continued feeding horses until the army returned victorious.

But when Feng Yuan returned to the relay station to visit the Crown Prince, he happened to injure his arm and was able to take leave.

If he went back, he would likely still be neglected and continue as a mere stable boy.

Unless… Feng Yuan could devise a strategy to break the deadlock.

But all these strategies would ultimately require sacrificing the rebels at Mount Ding, using countless white bones as stepping stones for Feng Yuan’s success!

Realizing this, the previous casualness that had developed from contentment instantly vanished.

Xiaoying unconsciously straightened her spine, her gaze turning cold as she studied Feng Yuan, who was drawing the map.

How could she have been lulled by the leisurely atmosphere of this luxurious garden, forgetting that Feng Yuan, just like Mu Hanjiang, was a person of authority who held the lives and deaths of Meng’s army in his hands?