The following spring, both the Huimin and Huacheng polders had been completed, and private polders were also finished under the supervision of local gentry. The tenant farmers who had fled gradually returned, the double cropping plan of rice and wheat was implemented smoothly, and the early autumn rice had ripened with heavy ears, bringing a bountiful harvest. After harvest, farmers treated and dried the land, adding manure to prepare for replanting wheat or vegetables and beans. The crops grew splendidly, and the cultivators’ faces beamed with joy. Looking around Ningguo Prefecture, everything was thriving and prosperous.

The fifth wu day after the start of autumn was the Autumn Society Festival. Every year at this time, the imperial court and officials of various prefectures and counties would sacrifice to the earth gods at altars to thank the spirits. This year for Autumn Society, Zhao Ai also set up a suburban altar near Huimin Polder and led Ningguo Prefecture officials in conducting the sacrificial ceremonies.

Folk women had the custom of making society rice on Autumn Society Day to entertain guests and make offerings. The palace followed this custom as well – the Royal Kitchen would cut pork and mutton, kidneys, stomach and lungs, duck, cakes, melons, ginger and such into chess piece or slice shapes, season them well, spread them over rice, and present them to the Emperor and all the palace quarters. Zhenzhen knew that after today’s ceremony ended, Zhao Ai would remain at Huimin Polder to continue inspecting the field conditions, so she prepared society rice according to the Royal Kitchen’s recipe and personally brought it to him.

When Zhenzhen arrived at Huimin Polder and saw Zhao Ai by the river, he had already removed his official robes, changed into a short tunic, taken off his shoes and socks, and climbed onto a giant water-turning treadmill several zhang high. Together with six other young farmers, he was bent over with arched back, joyfully treading to draw river water into the irrigation channels.

He chatted and laughed with the farmers, working while conversing, until an official reminded him it was time for the noon meal. Only then did he climb down, wash his hands and feet, and change clothes. After quite a while, he finally noticed Zhenzhen standing silently in the crowd. He immediately smiled at her, pointed at the waterwheel, and introduced: “This is a dragon bone cart designed by Master Zeng Zhijin. It requires seven people to operate. Have you ever seen such magnificence? This dragon bone cart draws enormous amounts of water. If we build more of these, should drought come, a hundred carts working together could irrigate all the fields on both banks in an instant.”

Zhenzhen listened and was about to praise him, but when she heard him say “we,” this intimate form of address caused the onlookers to smile ambiguously at her. She lowered her head bashfully, momentarily at a loss for words.

Among the watching crowd were many women holding society rice. Seeing that Zhao Ai had finished tidying up, they all stepped forward to present their rice to him, chattering as they competed to have him taste their cooking. Zhao Ai took chopsticks and tasted a bit of each woman’s society rice, then didn’t forget to look up at Zhenzhen. His gaze moved to the food box in her hands, and he smiled knowingly, stepped toward Zhenzhen, wordlessly took the food box directly, opened it and ate several mouthfuls of her society rice.

Zhenzhen asked him in a low voice: “How does it taste?”

“Not bad,” he replied, still focused on eating the rice. Without lifting his eyes, he casually added, “Though compared to the food you usually make, it’s a bit saltier.”

“Oh…” the onlookers expressed understanding, and bold ones asked directly: “Judge Zhao, is this your wife?”

Zhao Ai smiled without answering. Laughter immediately erupted all around.

Zhenzhen was greatly embarrassed, feeling she could hide nowhere. To make matters worse, several farm women came forward, warmly stuffing some fresh gourds and dates into her hands, blessing: “May the lady and Judge Zhao have precious sons soon.”

On Autumn Society Day, folk women all returned to their maternal homes, where family members would present them with fresh gourds and dates, symbolizing good fortune for nephews and nieces, so they carried many such items.

Zhenzhen could no longer face the crowd’s smiling scrutiny. She returned those unexpected gifts, pushed through the crowd, mounted her horse, and galloped away along the polder embankment into the distance.

Zhao Ai immediately rose, quickly found his horse, and also spurred his mount to gallop after Zhenzhen.

After racing for a while, the two had left the crowd far behind. Seeing no passersby ahead, Zhao Ai raised his whip and spurred his horse, quickly catching up to ride alongside Zhenzhen. When Zhenzhen turned to look at him, he reached out, embraced her waist, and forcibly pulled her over, holding her in front of him, sitting sideways on his horse.

Zhenzhen struggled desperately, bumping into Zhao Ai’s arm that was controlling the horse. The horse then veered off course, leaving the embankment and racing toward the rice fields.

Zhenzhen continued resisting. Seeing the horse had charged into the fields, Zhao Ai simply held Zhenzhen tightly with both arms, leaned sideways off the horse’s back, and rolled with her into the depths of the unharvested rice field.

They rolled several times before coming to rest. Zhenzhen found herself on the bottom with Zhao Ai lying over her, though he supported himself on both elbows to avoid crushing her. Both ashamed and anxious, she pushed against him with both hands, trying to push him away.

But Zhao Ai had no intention of letting her go. Instead, he grasped both her hands with one of his, stared at her, and said seriously: “Zhenzhen, I truly want to marry you as my wife.”

Zhenzhen froze, temporarily stopping her struggles under his burning gaze.

“Listen to me, Zhenzhen,” Zhao Ai said softly. “Not long ago, Father sent me a family letter, privately telling me he’s preparing to have me leave Ningguo Prefecture and transfer to judge Mingzhou. Mingzhou not only has fertile fields and rivers, but is also a port with a Maritime Trade Office managing sea commerce. If I go to Mingzhou, there would be much more I could do – besides agriculture, fisheries, and waterworks, I might also oversee maritime trade affairs. I very much want to go, but I can’t bear to leave you… Once we part, separated by vast distances, it would be difficult for us to meet again in the future.”

Following his words to imagine such a scenario, Zhenzhen’s heart also ached, and she was startled to realize that over these three years she had grown accustomed to sharing the same city with him, helping and protecting each other. If he suddenly left and they never met again, life would feel incomplete, and what could fill that void?

Seeing that Zhenzhen looked dejected at these words, Zhao Ai seemed encouraged and found the courage to say: “So after much thought, I decided to reply to Father, saying I was very willing to go to Mingzhou, but that I had met a kind young lady in Ningguo Prefecture named Song Taozheng, and I wanted to give her status so she could come with me to Mingzhou. Father quickly replied, saying this was no difficulty – just grant her a title… So yesterday I received the imperial decree Father sent, conferring Song Taozheng as County Lady of Xin’an… to be taken as Prince Wei’s concubine.”

Zhenzhen was incredibly surprised, staring wide-eyed and frowning: “How can this be…”

“This is already the best solution I could think of at present,” Zhao Ai continued. “From now on we can be together openly and honorably. In the future, if you bear my child, I’ll find a way to bring you back to Lin’an and ask Father to pardon your past crimes. For the sake of his grandson, he should agree.”

“But I won’t agree,” Zhenzhen refuted.

“I’m sorry, Zhenzhen, for not seeking your permission first,” Zhao Ai sincerely apologized, then explained: “I knew if you learned of it beforehand, you wouldn’t consent, so I acted on my own… But please ask your heart – if you don’t consider other matters too much, for the rest of your life, would you rather spend every day with me or never see me again?”

Zhenzhen was momentarily lost, unable to answer for a long time.

Zhao Ai’s gaze fell on a small white chrysanthemum by Zhenzhen’s temple, and he slowly reached out to pluck it.

“Zhenzhen, it’s been three years. Even the deepest mourning should end by now,” he sighed softly, then looked directly into her eyes and asked: “We’ve done nothing wrong – why should we miss each other?”

Unable to respond or face the stirring in her own heart, Zhenzhen lowered her lashes and couldn’t help but shed tears.

Zhao Ai reached out to wipe away her tears, then said gently: “You once said that Big Brother made you feel the best form of love between man and woman. Over these years, we’ve worked together on righteous causes and great endeavors, trusting and achieving alongside each other – isn’t this also a kind of best form?”

Without waiting for her answer, he thought a moment and added: “Of course, just doing righteous work isn’t enough, but I believe we would coordinate very well in other matters too.”

“Other matters?” Zhenzhen asked unconsciously, then immediately realized what he meant and blushed scarlet. Zhao Ai smiled broadly, then lowered his head toward her lips.

Zhenzhen’s body trembled lightly. She shrank back trying to retreat, but their current position left her with no escape. Her heart raced chaotically. Facing Zhao Ai’s gradually approaching face, her breathing grew more rapid. In her helplessness, she closed her eyes.

Just as Zhao Ai was about to touch Zhenzhen’s lips, a familiar voice suddenly called from the embankment: “Wu Zhenzhen! Second Prince!”

Both were startled. Zhenzhen immediately pushed Zhao Ai away and stood up. Zhao Ai also rose, and together they looked toward the embankment.

They saw a man leading a horse standing under the willows on the embankment, his other hand waving enthusiastically at them as he expressed his joy: “It really is you two! Wonderful – I’ve finally found you!”

It was Han Suwen, long unseen.

Though this was indeed a reunion of old friends, given such an awkward situation, Zhenzhen and Zhao Ai could only look at each other, unable to immediately respond with equal enthusiasm.

In that exchanged glance, Zhao Ai noticed a grain of rice still stuck to Zhenzhen’s hair. Before they left the rice field, he used the opportunity of helping her stand to casually reach behind her head and remove this compromising evidence.

“It’s been a long time, Imperial Physician Han. How have you been?” On the embankment, Zhao Ai maintained perfect composure as he bowed to greet Han Suwen. Compared to Zhenzhen, whose face still bore a rosy flush, his expression was quite natural, as if he and Zhenzhen had merely been examining the rice growth in the field.

Han Suwen smiled as he returned the courtesy. After their exchange of pleasantries, Zhao Ai asked why Han Suwen had left the capital to come here. Han Suwen told him: “Previously, the Prince memorialized His Majesty requesting permission to take a concubine in Ningguo Prefecture. I heard from palace ladies in Funing Hall that though His Majesty agreed, he complained to the Empress, saying you refused to marry a wife but were apparently so enamored with a beauty in Ningguo Prefecture that you urgently requested to take a concubine – who knows how bewitching this woman must be. The Empress counseled that the Second Prince works tirelessly outside and suffers greatly, so he should indeed have a concubine to serve him devotedly. To memorialize without first returning to report suggests the lady might already be with child and needs status quickly. His Majesty clapped his forehead: ‘Of course! How did I not think of that!’ His anger turned to joy, and he commanded me to come to Ningguo Prefecture – first to take up permanent residence in the prefecture to ensure the Prince’s wellbeing, and second, to observe County Lady Xin’an’s condition and report immediately if there’s happy news. So I came under orders. Reaching the prefecture offices, clerks said the Prince was at Huimin Polder, so I hurried over. At the dragon bone cart, I saw you two ride out from the crowd and followed. Thinking the backs looked like you, and after watching you enter the rice field and observing for quite a while until I felt certain, I called out…”

Thinking that their entire scene had been witnessed, Zhenzhen inwardly covered her face in shame beyond words. Zhao Ai smiled silently while Han Suwen continued talking cheerfully: “So after all the twists and turns, you two still found each other. This is wonderful! When we ate noodles together years ago, I secretly observed – you’re perfectly matched in talent and beauty, get along so harmoniously, speaking freely with each other without reserve. You should have been together long ago…”

Returning to the prefecture offices, the three recounted their experiences since parting. Zhenzhen told Han Suwen of her adventures over the years, and Han Suwen detailed past events, mentioning Prince Zhuangwen’s cause of death: “After I collected Prince Zhuangwen’s vomit, the imperial physicians and I carefully examined every bit of residue and had small animals consume it, but the animals showed no obvious abnormalities or signs of poisoning. So the physicians all believed the food itself was non-toxic and insisted it was your fault for presenting raw, cold food, and later… Of course I never agreed with their opinion, but couldn’t find strong evidence to refute it. I could only run about seeking someone who could save you. Fortunately good people have heaven’s protection, and you ultimately escaped.”

Zhenzhen then shared her speculation about snake venom. Han Suwen pondered and said: “That makes sense. Snake venom could indeed poison someone through wound ulceration, and wouldn’t be detected by testing on healthy animals. But with time passed, all the food evidence from then has been lost. Even if someone did use snake venom to harm Prince Zhuangwen, we don’t know where the poison was placed. We have no way to investigate now, making vindication very difficult.”

He looked meaningfully at Zhenzhen and Zhao Ai, then advised Zhenzhen: “Things being as they are, you might as well marry the Second Prince with peace of mind and live well where His Majesty cannot see. After a few more years, when His Majesty’s grief for Prince Zhuangwen has gradually faded, return with your children and the Second Prince, explain everything to His Majesty, and seek his forgiveness.”

Zhao Ai also said to Zhenzhen: “I remember you saying that until the truth about Big Brother’s death was clear, you couldn’t let it go and wouldn’t accept me. But given the current situation, we must first have the opportunity to be together openly before we can continue investigating the truth together. If separated, losing each other’s support, the day when the truth comes to light will be even more remote.”

Seeing Zhenzhen remain silent and no longer object, Zhao Ai began actively preparing for the wedding. Though officially reported to His Majesty as taking a concubine, the wedding ceremony and items he arranged in Ningguo Prefecture were no different from an official family marrying a legitimate wife, with all six rites complete. He sincerely told Zhenzhen: “My status prevents me from marrying you as my registered wife, but I want to give you the rites of a legitimate spouse, making you the first woman I formally wed, my true primary wife in my heart.”

The wedding was set for late September. Zhenzhen returned to live in Zhanle Tower, and as the wedding date approached, Zhao Ai continuously sent hairpins, coronets, red embroidered jackets, various cosmetics and jewelry to her residence in an endless stream. Two days before the wedding, he had a wedding attendant deliver bridal ornaments, over ten sets, for Zhenzhen to choose from.

Those ornaments were made from kingfisher feathers, gems, pearls and such, displayed dazzlingly in boxes. The wedding attendant presented them to Zhenzhen, and as her gaze swept over them, she was inexplicably drawn to pick up a pearl ornament.

The attendant smiled: “My lady has excellent taste – anyone can tell this is made from the finest South Sea pearls.”

She then had Zhenzhen sit before a bronze mirror, took the pearl ornament, held it with the back facing up at her fingertips, and brought it to Zhenzhen’s lips, asking her to breathe on it.

This was Zhenzhen’s first time using ornaments since Prince Zhuangwen’s death. For some reason, her heart began beating frantically. She stared hesitantly at the pearl ornament for a long while before slowly parting her lips to breathe.

The glue on the ornament’s back fogged with moisture and gave off a faint cosmetic fragrance. Zhenzhen suddenly remembered the orange scent from the pearl ornament on her brow that night with the Prince, and felt inexplicably dizzy.

The attendant noticed nothing, applying the ornament to Zhenzhen’s brow while praising: “The fine glue used by wealthy families really is different – it even contains aromatic oils to mask the fishy smell of the fish glue…”

Zhenzhen’s face went deathly pale. She stared at the newly applied ornament in the mirror for a moment, then suddenly stood and hurried outside.

Just reaching the main gate, she unexpectedly encountered Han Suwen dismounting at the entrance. Seeing her, he beamed with approval: “Today’s makeup looks quite nice – very beautiful, befitting someone with a happy event approaching.”

He then turned to retrieve a small brocade box from his horse’s pack and handed it to Zhenzhen: “This is something I found under the couch when collecting Prince Zhuangwen’s vomit. I thought it must be something you dropped. The pearl was precious, so I kept it safe, intending to return it when I saw you. Later I was busy and temporarily forgot. When we reunited that day I meant to give it to you, but since it’s a lady’s intimate item, I feared returning it abruptly might make the Second Prince suspicious, so I delayed until now.”

Zhenzhen opened the box to find the very pearl ornament she had used that day. Turning it over to examine the back, she discovered most of the breathing glue was gone but some remained. Unable to contain her surging emotions any longer, hot tears immediately streamed down both cheeks.

Han Suwen was startled and quickly asked what was wrong. Zhenzhen covered her mouth, struggling to suppress her grief. After a moment, using the calmest voice she could manage, she said to Han Suwen: “Find a small animal for poison testing and have it taste this ornament’s glue.”