After the servant left, Cheng Lei leaned in: “I thought you’d never take a Princess Consort, but now I see I was blind. Tell me, which young lady’s love letter is it?”

Fu Yunxi gave him a cool glance and unfolded the letter. On the pristine paper were eight bold characters: “You are not the right man, do you have a clever plan?”

The handwriting was strong. Fu Yunxi had seen Han Yan’s writing at the palace banquet before—then it had been elegant and delicate, but now it was bold and vigorous, like a man’s hand. Besides these eight characters, there was no signature. If he hadn’t known better, he wouldn’t have understood the message. This truly matched that girl’s usual craftiness. If this letter fell into other hands, they wouldn’t glean anything from its contents.

“What does it say?” Cheng Lei was itching with curiosity to see the letter’s contents but was wary of Fu Yunxi’s cold gaze.

“Nothing much.” Fu Yunxi refolded the letter, placed it back in its envelope, and after some thought, stored it in a wooden box nearby. A faint smile unconsciously appeared on his lips.

Seeing this, Cheng Lei was shocked: “You smiled? I knew it must be a love poem. When’s the wedding?”

“Talkative.” Fu Yunxi rebuked him, his slender fingers tapping lightly on his teacup. At least she wasn’t too foolish—she knew to seek help from others.

Seeing that stubborn, enduring person finally learning to rely on others, not bearing everything alone, and most importantly, choosing him for help—Fu Yunxi’s mood instantly improved. But Wei Rufeng… his expression gradually cooled. He was truly getting out of hand.

After a moment, he pulled out a sheet of paper from his desk, wrote a few characters, folded it, and placed it in an envelope.

Cheng Lei watched curiously: “You’re responding with a love poem?”

Fu Yunxi turned around: “The Western Rong have grown increasingly bold lately. Though defeated, their treacherous intentions remain.”

At this sudden turn to state affairs, Cheng Lei’s expression grew serious: “There’s still a fierce battle ahead.”

Fu Yunxi nodded: “That’s why next year, I’ll join you in battle.”

“How is that possible?” Cheng Lei jumped up. Though he wished to fight alongside Fu Yunxi: “Your royal brother will never agree. Seven years ago, when you went to battle, you returned with this ice-cold personality. His Majesty already has complaints about me—if you go again now, won’t that cause an uproar?”

“What if he doesn’t agree?” Fu Yunxi was unconcerned, his expression almost arrogant. “Besides,” his voice was clear and pleasant, his eyes flashing with amusement, “with a Princess Consort in the manor, he’ll have nothing to say.”

“You mean…” Cheng Lei stood up in surprise.

“This Prince intends to marry. How about that?”

Han Yan slept very uneasily that night. In her dreams, scenes from her past life played out like a stage drama before her. Zhuang Yushan in her phoenix crown and wedding dress, forcing her to drink that poisoned cup, Ji Lan and Shu Hong’s helpless resistance, and Old Madam Chen’s screams, finally ending with the cyan official boots in her vision.

She sat up abruptly, her body cold, her forehead covered in sweat. Collecting herself, she saw it was already dawn outside. Due to recent events at the Zhuang Manor, she hadn’t practiced martial arts with Chai Jing. Han Yan rubbed her hair and called for Ji Lan outside.

After Ji Lan helped her wash and dress, Han Yan felt somewhat more settled. Walking to the window, she saw a snow-white dove flutter down and land on her desk, tilting its head to look at her.

Han Yan was startled. The dove was pure white like fine jade, with eyes red as bloodstone. It wasn’t an ordinary bird, likely raised by some noble household.

Ji Lan exclaimed with delight: “What a beautiful snow dove!”

Sharp-eyed Shu Hong noticed something tied to the dove’s leg and spoke up: “There seems to be something attached.”

Han Yan had also noticed the small package on the dove’s leg. She approached, and the dove didn’t flee, allowing her to easily catch it. The dove struggled slightly as Han Yan untied the small cloth package from its leg. Ji Lan found some corn kernels to feed the dove while Han Yan sat down on the couch with the package.

Inside was a rolled-up letter. Han Yan opened it to find just four characters: “Seek another good match.”

His writing, like the man himself, carried a lofty pride. In its faint disdain, it seemed to look down upon all creation—magnificent yet aloof, with a touch of beauty, uniquely mysterious.

Seek another good match?

Han Yan stared at the characters, somewhat dazed. What did Fu Yunxi mean? Was he telling her to marry someone else?

She hadn’t come of age yet, and everyone knew she wasn’t favored in the Zhuang Manor. Noble families probably wouldn’t want such a daughter-in-law. Once news of Wei Rufeng’s intention to marry her spread, who would dare marry her against the Wei Prince Manor’s pressure?

Was Fu Yunxi playing with her?

Instinctively feeling that wasn’t his style, Han Yan wracked her brain, searching for someone in court with enough power to stand against the Wei Prince Manor… suddenly, a person flashed through her mind, and Han Yan froze.

Could Fu Yunxi mean… that the good match he referred to was himself?

She remembered Fu Yunxi’s previous joke: “If you truly want to marry this Prince, this Prince will send someone tomorrow to match our birth dates.” Han Yan’s cheeks grew warm. In truth, Fu Yunxi was an extremely reassuring person—it seemed that with him present, all problems would naturally resolve themselves. Through their recent interactions, Han Yan felt both fear and a desire to grow closer to him. This man had an attraction that made one want to explore further.

But what was Fu Yunxi’s attitude toward her? Han Yan frowned. It seemed like helping an old friend, or caring for an ignorant child—while showing no hostility, he showed no love either. So why would he marry her?

Han Yan’s heart was confused as she clutched the letter. Compared to Wei Rufeng, she would rather marry this ice block Fu Yunxi. But why would the noble Prince Xuanqing want to marry her, the daughter of a mere fifth-rank official? If anyone suggested Fu Yunxi was captivated by her beauty and talent, Han Yan would laugh herself silly.

Then… was it because of that person he had mistaken her for?

Her heart instantly dimmed.

Could a loveless marriage truly be called a marriage?

In Furong Garden, Jiao Meng was spoonfeeding Consort Mei a bowl of bird’s nest soup. The small bowl was quickly emptied, and Consort Mei wiped her mouth with a handkerchief, showing a look of disgust: “Drinking this every day, I’m about to vomit!”

Seeing this, Jiao Meng smiled: “Since the master heard about your pregnancy, he ordered the kitchen to add more supplements to your daily meals, that’s why there’s so much to drink.”

Consort Mei rose irritably: “It all comes down to this seed in my belly!” She looked at Jiao Meng: “A few more days have passed, and still no movement. The master might grow suspicious…” Then she continued angrily: “Zhou’s fallen, yet we’ve gained another fox-like elder sister! Shameless, hanging around the Zhuang Manor all day—anyone who didn’t know better would think she belonged to the master!”