Cheng Lei looked at him with concern: “These past few years, you’ve become like a different person. Even I find you… frightening.”

He replied: “Because you haven’t experienced what it’s like to be unable to cry.”

Fu Yun Xi occasionally thought of that little girl. That afternoon, she had stumbled into his life during his most helpless and grief-stricken moment. Her commotion had somehow dispersed much of his sorrow. That colorful fish, the undelivered parting gift, had become like a promise, making him increasingly fierce and invincible on the battlefield.

People always need something to hold onto.

When he returned triumphant with a hundred thousand elite troops, he sat tall on his horse just as he had years ago, watching the city gates open wide and the common people cheering, yet feeling somewhat melancholic.

After all, he was no longer that martial young man of years past.

In the red plum garden during the palace banquet, he had unexpectedly encountered a young girl who drew close to him in a moment of danger, not knowing that he was more dangerous than the danger itself.

The girl’s hair buns looked familiar, and when she raised her head, revealing those ever-bright eyes, her mature features gradually blurred, finally assembling into that tear-stained little face from his memory.

Seven years later, on a snowy day, he finally saw that little girl again. The crying, plain child of years past now had curved eyebrows and slightly upturned lips, viewing everything before her with mockery and detachment. Her eyes remained clear as stream water, but instead of reflecting the world’s purity, they now showed the wisdom of having seen countless vicissitudes.

His heart was crying, and wasn’t hers doing the same?

He stood in the shadows, quietly watching her every move. That little girl now observed slander and schemes with cold eyes, maintaining a beautiful smile, her methods clever, returning tooth for tooth, leaving her enemies defenseless. She seemed to have forgotten how to cry, always smiling at everything.

He was no longer the youth who wore every emotion on his face, and she was no longer the girl who had to hide away to cry.

Time had changed everything, yet seemed to have changed nothing at all.

He had an idea – to take her under his wing, where she could cry freely if she wanted to cry, and need not force a smile if she didn’t want to smile.

Fu Yun Xi remembered he owed her a parting gift. Now that he had returned, he repaid her with a blue kingfisher tail hairpin, extending his hand to her in the moonlight.

“My Princess.”

Three days later.

Han Yan decided to make another trip to that village in the eastern part of the city.

Many mysteries remained unsolved. If A Bi could reveal the truth, that would be best, but if not… they would have to resort to more subtle methods.

As the carriage jolted along the rough roads of the eastern city, Han Yan massaged her temples with two fingers. She recalled that Imperial Consort Chen’s birthday was approaching. In her previous life, she hadn’t attended Imperial Consort Chen’s birthday celebration. But in this life, bearing the title of Xuan Qing Prince’s Princess, she could hardly decline to attend. Time was steadily approaching the day when Zhuang Han Ming would meet with misfortune, and everything required utmost caution. Now the Zhou sisters increasingly viewed her as a thorn in their side, and with Wei Ru Feng and the Seventh Prince added to the mix, her situation was extremely precarious.

Lost in thought, they had reached the village entrance. Han Yan and Ji Lan Shu Hong jumped down from the carriage. As soon as they touched the ground, they were hit by a cold wind carrying the scent of blood.

The smell was so strong that Ji Lan nearly retched. Seeing Han Yan’s expression tighten, she realized something terrible must have happened and said, “Young Miss, let Shu Hong and I go in first to check…”

Han Yan shook her head: “We’ll go in together.” Though she said this, her fingers were already digging into her palms, her heart filled with foreboding. Sure enough, after walking just a few steps, they saw a man with a basket on his back lying near the village entrance, covered in blood, his body riddled with knife wounds.

Ji Lan ran over and, after hesitating briefly, pushed the man and turned back: “Young Miss, he’s dead.”

Han Yan walked closer and saw the man was dressed like an ordinary villager. There was an obvious knife wound deeply carved into his waist, blood pooled beneath him, and his expression was one of terror, eyes wide open as if he hadn’t expected to lose his life so suddenly.

Han Yan touched the blood with her finger and slowly stood up, walking further into the village. As she drew closer, she witnessed a scene of hell on earth.

Blood and dead bodies were everywhere. An old man returning with medicinal herbs lay dead before his door, and a woman holding a child had her throat slit – not a single villager had escaped this fate. The well water had turned red with blood. Everything was deathly silent, except for the livestock that, not understanding what had happened, continued pecking at their feed.

Everyone in this village had been brutally slaughtered!

Han Yan clenched her fists as Ji Lan covered her mouth: “How cruel! Who did this?”

Shu Hong worriedly said: “Young Miss, I fear those people might not be far. It’s dangerous here, shouldn’t we…”

Han Yan pushed away her hand and walked into the innermost house.

A Bi’s door was wide open. Upon entering, Han Yan saw A Bi lying on her back, still clutching embroidery in her hands, her blood having completely stained the needlework red. She had been working on a new piece before her death. The room appeared to have been searched, with drawers open and everything in disarray.

Ji Lan whispered: “What happened here?”

Han Yan felt utterly exhausted and shook her head. Looking back at A Bi’s body lying in the pool of blood, she noticed her lips were curved in what seemed to be a relieved smile. She too must have thought that after bearing such a heavy burden for so many years, she could finally find peace.

Han Yan noticed that one of her hands was tightly oddly gripping the embroidery.

Even if she had been embroidering before her death, it seemed strange that she would grip the needlework so tightly after being attacked. It was too unusual. Han Yan’s heart stirred, and she bent down to pull the object from her hand.

After some effort, she managed to extract it and found it was a handkerchief, not embroidery at all. The handkerchief was smooth and delicate, unlike ordinary silk brocade. Having lived in poverty for so many years, how could A Bi possess such an exquisite handkerchief?

Without time to examine it further, Han Yan tucked the handkerchief into her sleeve and said to Ji Lan: “Let’s return immediately.”

Ji Lan pointed at A Bi’s body: “What about these people…”

Han Yan paused before responding: “Later, find someone to report this to the authorities.”

Ji Lan nodded.

This time the carriage stayed only briefly. Inside the carriage, Ji Lan couldn’t hold back anymore and looked at Han Yan: “Young Miss… why would they kill everyone in the village? Is it because we…” Han Yan had visited this village just days ago, and soon after it was massacred. It was hard not to connect the two events and wonder what the relationship might be.

Han Yan lowered her eyes: “Yes.”

Ji Lan opened her mouth, but seeing Han Yan’s expression, swallowed her words. She heard Han Yan’s voice continue: “They feared A Bi would reveal something. A Bi’s concerns weren’t unfounded – now they’ve massacred an entire village to prevent us from discovering something.”