After the Duke Zhenguo’s carriage departed, the group of imperial princes and princesses continued northward. Prince Yi Xing, Li Chongjun, finally found the opportunity to ask: “Elder Brother Yong, do you truly intend to seek Ming Second Young Lady’s hand in marriage?”

Prince Yi Xing, Li Chongjun, was the Crown Prince’s third son by a concubine. After Li Chongrun’s death, Crown Princess Consort Wei had always suspected it was the work of the second son by a concubine, Li Chongfu, because on that day most of the Eastern Palace’s people had been attending the banquet at Princess Taiping’s residence, and only Li Chongfu had remained in the Eastern Palace. Moreover, his principal wife was the niece of the Zhang brothers, and the very reason Li Chongrun had been beaten to death was precisely because he had spoken of the Zhang brothers. If Li Chongrun died, the one who benefited most was obviously Li Chongfu, the second son by a concubine.

But the Consort Wei, though full of suspicion, had no evidence. She could hardly go before the Empress Regnant and directly confront the Zhang brothers about who had informed on him.

She could not touch the Zhang brothers, but dealing with a son born of a concubine was more than sufficient. During this period, Consort Wei made no attempt to conceal her loathing for Li Chongfu, and his treatment within the Eastern Palace plummeted. The other members of the Li family would not rescue someone who may have been feeding information to the Zhang brothers, so Li Chongfu simply and rightfully “vanished” from public sight.

Consort Wei had lost her only legitimate son and was consumed by grief, yet however unwilling she might be, life had to continue. With the Eastern Palace’s eldest legitimate son dead by violent means and the second son disgraced and cast aside, the third son Li Chongjun became the Crown Prince’s tacitly acknowledged heir.

Li Chongjun had never imagined he would have anything to do with the imperial throne. When great responsibility suddenly fell upon his shoulders one day, he was terrified and overjoyed all at once, stumbling along as he grew accustomed to his new identity.

Li Huazhang glanced at Li Chongjun, his tone calm and his intentions resolute: “Naturally. I shall enter the palace now and petition His Majesty for an imperial marriage decree.”

Everyone in the procession was startled. Li Chongjun said: “Marriage is a matter commanded by one’s parents. Elder Brother, it would be better to first consult the elders rather than rush like this.”

“Indeed,” said Yong He, the Princess Imperial’s daughter and Countess of Yong He. “I originally thought Ming Yuji was merely a village girl who had returned halfway through life, but it turns out this woman is quite calculating. Today, by publicly invoking Duke Zhenguo’s name, wasn’t she forcing you to declare your intentions before everyone? Though the Ming family has rendered merits, they calculate too much. Elder Brother, you should test their family more thoroughly before deciding anything hastily.”

“I do not feel there was anything wrong with what Ming Yuji said. She is Second Young Lady’s elder sister, and she wholeheartedly considers Second Young Lady’s wellbeing. I am very pleased by that.” Li Huazhang’s voice was clear and cold, like wind through a forest grove, like spring water striking stone — within his ease was a strain of unshakeable resolve. “I have thought this through with great clarity. There is nothing more I need to ask. I like only her, and it has nothing to do with anything else. If His Majesty does not consent, then I will not marry. That is all.”

Li Huazhang understood the implication behind what Li Chongjun and the others were saying. They simply felt that at this juncture, the Li family should gather every piece of leverage it could in exchange for a return to the imperial court — and of course, that included marriage.

These imperial children had long understood that feelings were one thing and marriage was another. As long as the benefits were great enough, they themselves could become commodities. The Duke Zhenguo’s household, aside from its loyalty, offered no other practical advantage; for Li Huazhang to sacrifice his position as principal consort by marrying Ming Huashang was far too poor a bargain.

Li Huazhang had no intention of judging whether such a way of thinking was right or wrong, but he understood very clearly that he was not a commodity, and he would never trade away his own feelings.

He wished to marry Ming Huashang for one reason only: he liked her. He genuinely and sincerely admired that fierce, kind, and resilient soul. In truth, he had not exaggerated anything he said today — if not for Ming Huashang, he truly would not have chosen to marry and have children.

He bore too much upon his shoulders. Forming a family would, for him, bring harm to others and to himself alike.

But fate was utterly unreasonable in this way. Ming Huashang was like a brilliant, vivid butterfly that swept into his world without warning, upending the fixed course of his life. He had experienced joy, sorrow, unwillingness, and jealousy — all those irrational yet remarkably vivid emotions.

She leaned on him without reservation, and he had once leaned on her in moments of vulnerability. From that point on, his black-and-white world began to harbor a longing. Li Huazhang could not help sketching in his heart: if he spent the rest of his life at her side, what would every coming day be like?

These visions appeared with increasing frequency, and he could not suppress a certain deeply irrational, yet keenly anticipated possibility taking root.

— If he could marry her, and discuss with her every day what to eat and what to wear, read together, go out together, pay respects to their elders together, be scolded by their father together — just as they had been before the age of four, spending time together with complete abandon and no need for restraint. How wonderful that would be.

This was a longing both desired and forever out of reach, and so — what else was there left to consider? Whether the Empress Regnant would grow suspicious, whether Prince Xiang, Princess Taiping, and the others would consent — none of it concerned Li Huazhang. The six rites of marriage were merely the world’s conventions. In his heart, his wife was, and could only ever be, Ming Huashang.

Li Chongjun and the Countess of Yong He exchanged glances with the others. They had never heard such audaciously carefree words and for a moment did not know what expression to assume. But as he had said, Li Huazhang was not interested in what others thought. Without waiting for their reply, he had already loosened his reins and shot toward Daming Palace like a gust of wind.

His horse’s hooves struck the main thoroughfare as though splashing through a rushing current. Li Chongjun had no choice but to pull back several steps and steady his own mount. He watched Li Huazhang gallop toward Danfeng Gate without a single backward glance, baffled and incredulous: “Is he truly going? A matter this great, and he will not even consult his family?”

The Countess of Yong He furrowed her brow and said: “We must hurry back to the estate and inform A’Niang of this.”

She moved urgently to turn her horse around. In the midst of the commotion, only Prince Linzi reined in his mount and stood still, gazing steadily ahead. The Countess of Yong He noticed he had not moved and asked in surprise: “Third Brother, what are you looking at?”

Prince Linzi gave a quiet sigh, speaking from the heart: “I truly envy Elder Brother — free as the wind, pressing ever forward, able to go wherever he wishes.”

This was a kind of feeling he could not achieve, yet deeply longed for. The Countess of Yong He gave him a peculiar look, unable to understand what was so enviable about such willful, reckless behavior that disregarded the greater picture. She said warily: “You are not thinking of following his example, are you?”

Prince Linzi shook his head, with an expression that was neither quite laughter nor quite a sigh: “I would like to.”

But the next words rose swiftly in his heart, though he did not speak them aloud.

He did not have the courage to refuse being offered up to the highest bidder for the sake of love.

·

The imperial family members walked together. Ren Yao had no desire to spend more energy on social niceties after the hunt ended, so she had chosen a different road, taking a leisurely way home.

Jiang Ling and Xie Jichuan walked alongside her. Jiang Ling remarked with feeling: “I thought today was merely a hunting outing, but I never expected to witness so much drama. Li Huazhang truly lives by the saying ‘strike without warning and shake the heavens’ — I had already noticed the two of them were rather too close, and I still thought it was my imagination, that siblings who were deeply fond of each other simply behaved that way. But who would have thought…”

Ren Yao let out a sound of scorn and said: “Isn’t this wonderful? Openly admitting it before everyone is the best refutation of all those rumors!”

Then Ren Yao could not help but sigh with envy: “How lovely — ‘reeds and rushes, vast and green, I follow the winding river to find you.’ Neither of them cares what others think; they rush toward each other with fierce abandon. I truly envy that kind of feeling.”

Jiang Ling turned to look at her, as though wanting to say something, but finally said: “I don’t care what others think either, you know.”

Ren Yao gave him a sidelong glance and said: “Who can’t go against their family? But what matters is not defying one’s parents — it’s refusing their interference without harming them, and still accomplishing what you set out to do. Take Li Huazhang: he said those words publicly, and so I will bless them, rather than worry about whether the palace will consent or whether he might have a change of heart and hurt Huashang. Because I believe he will resolve those problems — if he wants to, he will certainly do what he says.”

Jiang Ling said with dissatisfaction: “I can do what I say too!”

“You?” Ren Yao gave him an irritable glance. “Where does your confidence come from to compare yourself to Li Huazhang? Just how dependable is he — and what about you?”

“How am I not dependable? I have accomplished many things too!”

Ren Yao and Jiang Ling bickered on, this being who knew how many times they had quarreled today. Xie Jichuan followed beside them, cold and silent. After squabbling for a while, Jiang Ling noticed that Xie Jichuan had not said a word and, curious, gave his shoulder a thump: “Old Xie, what is the matter with you? Why so quiet?”

Ordinarily, Xie Jichuan would not have bothered to respond to Jiang Ling, but today he was quiet for a moment and then, against all expectation, spoke up: “Why do you dare believe in someone’s promise of a lifetime? We do not even know what tomorrow holds — how can anyone be certain that for the next several decades, the world will stay the same and those in love will continue to love one another? When feelings fade in the future and one looks back on today, would that not be rather pathetic?”

Ren Yao was momentarily taken aback by the question and instinctively replied: “Well, that’s true enough… but the two of them are surely different.”

“How are they different?” Xie Jichuan asked. “There are so many married couples in this world who have all once had the joy of newlyweds, yet who ultimately live in hollow appearances. What makes them an exception?”

Ren Yao wanted to argue on behalf of Li Huazhang and Ming Huashang, yet found Xie Jichuan’s reasoning difficult to refute. She could not articulate her answer, and was about to simply let it go, when Jiang Ling, for once, delivered a firm and decisive opinion: “If one approaches it with that mentality, then no matter who one’s spouse is, it will ultimately come to hollow appearances. Even city walls crumble after decades — why demand that the other person remain unchanged? Even if husband and wife eventually grow apart, the years spent together in between, the joy shared along the way, are all real and genuinely existed.”

“Joy?” Xie Jichuan raised an eyebrow. It was difficult to imagine a person, like an animal, spending an entire life chasing nothing but joy. “If that is the case, why does one need another person at all? Playing the zither, playing chess, reading, painting, eating, sleeping — all of these bring joy. Such simple things — can one not accomplish them by oneself?”

“Of course one can,” said Jiang Ling. He snapped off a willow branch from the roadside and held it in his mouth with an easy, carefree air. “Marriage, when you strip it down, is just one choice among many on life’s path. If you can find contentment in your own company and have no desire for another’s presence, then living out your days alone is perfectly fine. If you want someone to walk alongside you, to weather the storms together, then you must first give your true heart. To yearn for genuine feeling while being unwilling to change — where would such a bargain exist in this world?”

Ren Yao was caught off guard and looked at Jiang Ling with considerable surprise: “Who would have thought — those words actually came from you?”

Jiang Ling let out a light huff and immediately put on a self-satisfied air: “Of course! I know a great deal!”

Ren Yao gave him a dismissive look and said: “This stretch of road was freshly fertilized not long ago, and you still put a tree branch in your mouth. Spit it out quickly, you fool!”

“Why didn’t you say so sooner!” Jiang Ling hastily spat the branch out and made sounds of disgust at the ground, spitting repeatedly. Ren Yao burst into laughter and waited until she had enjoyed the spectacle thoroughly before giving her horse a slap and declaring: “I was joking with you — you really are a fool.”

When Jiang Ling realized he had been tricked, he brandished his riding crop and gave chase. The two of them were soon tumbling about in a noisy pursuit, while Xie Jichuan rode behind, elegant, composed, and solitary.

Xie Jichuan watched those two and suddenly felt a pang of envy at how freely they could carry on, heedless of the world around them.

Unlike him — at some point he had not even noticed, he had become alone once more.

Though Ren Yao always called Jiang Ling a fool, Xie Jichuan knew that Jiang Ling was far more sharp-witted than he let on. Those words just now were something Jiang Ling had sensed and deliberately said for Xie Jichuan’s benefit.

In truth, Xie Jichuan had sensed it himself. He had long been hostile toward Li Huazhang’s feelings for Ming Huashang — in the beginning, out of fear that Li Huazhang would let emotions cloud his judgment and ruin their great plan; later, out of a jealousy he kept hidden from the world.

At one time, Xie Jichuan had arrogantly assumed Ming Huashang was merely another beautiful but tedious daughter of a noble household. But she repeatedly exceeded his expectations. She knew Xie Jichuan was clever, yet she did not admire or defer to him. Several times she had refuted his conclusions and proven him wrong.

She was the first woman who had made Xie Jichuan feel he could not fully read or control her. He developed curiosity and a wish to understand her, which in time became genuine regard. He had in fact noticed that he liked Ming Huashang, but he did not believe love could last — rather than ending in wreckage, it was better to let the blossom remain at its most beautiful moment.

And so he did not act. He let that brief flutter of feeling pass — until he saw another man declare before everyone: I will marry no one but you.

In that instant, he felt fury, displeasure, and regret, perhaps mixed with some measure of contempt for himself. On the day the butterfly left him, he finally understood that what he felt for her was not merely a passing flutter.

He believed in the innate selfishness of human nature, while Ming Huashang practiced truth, goodness, and beauty from the depths of her heart. He always masked his inner self with mockery, while Ming Huashang was never stingy about expressing praise to those around her. His capacity for emotional bonds was shallow — he could form no deep connection with anyone — yet Ming Huashang possessed the ability to weave love: she had grown up within love, and dared to love in turn.

She was the other half of himself that he was unwilling to acknowledge, yet deeply longed for.

In truth, Jiang Ling was right. His harsh judgment of Li Huazhang had been irresponsible. At its root, Xie Jichuan was furious at his own inadequacy and had simply displaced that anger onto Li Huazhang.

Xie Jichuan did not believe he was capable of receiving lasting love, and so he always anticipated others leaving him first. He had made all manner of preparations against this eventuality, unwilling to give too much, and in the end he had brought about every single thing he had feared.

The blossoms fell, gone in an instant, and indeed no one had remained at his side for long.

Xie Jichuan suddenly found the sunlight extremely piercing. He raised a hand to cover his eyes, and the sounds of the street entered his ears as though through a layer of membrane — drifting and swaying.

A girl was pestering her parents to buy her a sugar figurine. An old man was scolding his worthless son. The clip-clop of hooves punctuated Jiang Ling and Ren Yao’s laughter and play, growing ever more distant from him.

Here, there remained only him, alone.

·

Daming Palace.

The Empress Regnant listened to all that Li Huazhang said, was silent for a moment, and then asked: “You entered the palace — for this matter alone?”

“Yes.” Li Huazhang stood straight before the steps, his gaze clear and resolute. He clasped his hands in salute and said: “I request that Your Majesty bestow the marriage decree.”

The Empress Regnant seemed to give a faint laugh and said: “You say you request a marriage decree, but you did not say you request Her Majesty’s blessing. If I do not consent, what will you do?”

Li Huazhang’s dark eyes were slightly downcast, resting on the floor tiles. He spoke calmly: “I and the one I love wish to marry, and of course I hope to receive an elder’s blessing. If Your Majesty does not offer it, I will not presume to ask for it. But my feelings for her — those will never change.”

The Empress Regnant said lightly: “Marriage depends on parental command and the words of a go-between. What use is merely having feelings?”

“My birth father and mother have already passed. Marriage is a matter I am fully capable of deciding for myself. Moreover, even if my birth father were here before me, I would still say it to his face: I wish to marry the one I love. Whether he consents or not is beside the point.”

The Empress Regnant let out a sound and pressed with greater gravity: “You truly are audacious and willful. If he does not consent and it comes down to a choice between your princely title and that woman, would you still press on regardless?”

“If that is the only way to remain at the side of the one I love, then I ask that Your Majesty forgive my filial failing.” Li Huazhang kept his eyes downcast and said: “I rescued Your Majesty not for the title of Prince Yong. I practice filial piety toward my parents not for family provision. Similarly, I wish to marry her with no regard for fame or external advantage — only because it is what my heart truly desires. I come to request Your Majesty’s marriage decree only because I wish to give her a perfect worldly ceremony, so that her parents and loved ones may be at ease. As for the ritual itself, I have no attachment to it. If the Ministry of Rites does not issue the document, then I will hold the wedding ceremony myself. If a ceremony cannot be held, then I will bring her to my side — or go to hers. It does not matter whether in the eyes of the world we are siblings or husband and wife. In my heart, she is the only wife of my entire life.”

The Empress Regnant said nothing after hearing this. Li Huazhang bowed his head and stood at the foot of the steps, equally still. After a stiff silence, the Empress Regnant sighed: “Go back.”

Li Huazhang performed the proper salute, turned, and walked toward the exit — without a single superfluous word. Princess Taiping had hurried into the palace and arrived just in time to see this scene. She stepped into the great hall and asked hesitantly: “A’Niang, what did Second Brother say? Why has he already left?”

“He requested a marriage decree.” The Empress Regnant sighed, her tone unreadable. “Children grow up, after all.”

Princess Taiping carefully observed the Empress Regnant’s expression and asked: “Then your meaning is…”

“He has already said he does not care for worldly propriety, and that if the palace refuses him, he will live in the woman’s household for the rest of his life. What can I do?” The Empress Regnant sighed and waved a weary hand. “The imperial family cannot afford to lose such face. Let him be.”

Had it been any other young man, speaking thus might have been an attempt to manipulate his elders. But with Li Huazhang, the Empress Regnant believed he was entirely capable of doing it. When a person grows old, all one wants is peace. He was Li Xian’s only child — if this was what he liked, then let him have it.

However, Ming Huashang had now become a spent piece on the board. She could no longer be assigned any critical tasks going forward.

Princess Taiping had come to the palace intending to stop Li Huazhang, and had not expected the Empress Regnant to give her consent. Having served beside the throne for many years, she quickly detected that the Empress Regnant in fact admired Li Huazhang’s choice.

A pure and ardent feeling of “none but you” — if Princess Taiping were younger, she too would find it deeply appealing.

But the Li Lingyue of today no longer harbored fondness for such showy, impractical things. The princess smiled on the surface while rapidly weighing the advantages and disadvantages in her mind.

The Empress Regnant had already consented, so the words she had prepared could not be spoken. Princess Taiping’s eyes made an almost imperceptible circle, and when she opened her mouth, what came out was a smile the complete opposite of her original intention: “Youth would be wasted without a little audacity — it is rare that he is so fond of a young woman. We are the imperial family, we need not concern ourselves with the woman’s family assets or status. Let him follow his own heart in this.”

The Empress Regnant gave a faint sound of acknowledgment. Her expression showed little reaction, but not objecting was itself a statement. Princess Taiping’s face continued to smile, while inwardly she felt no small measure of gravity.

This was not good. The position of Li Huazhang’s principal wife — the most valuable card in the deck — had just been thrown away. What a waste. It appeared she would need to rearrange what remained.