Yongchun Hall was located in the southeastern corner of the Great Ming Palace, originally serving as a palace storehouse. Its walls were extremely high and thick, making it perhaps the most secure building in the palace.

To the east and south, not far away, stood the outer palace wall, over fifty feet high, with no palace gates. A corner tower sat atop the wall where guards patrolled constantly, making it impossible for outsiders to enter from there.

The western side required the heaviest protection, being close to the palace city gate—if any outsider were to enter, it would surely be from this direction. But Yongchun Hall’s design was rigorous, with its western wall standing three men high and containing only one corner gate. Now, with two hundred men at hand, besides ordering the corner gate to be deadbolted and forbidding anyone from passing through, four guards were stationed on both sides of the gate, making it truly impregnable.

The northern side faced the inner palace but was also strictly guarded. Beyond the two tightly closed palace gates, heavy forces were stationed. Additionally, even the patrol guards couldn’t enter or leave after the gates were locked at night, preventing anyone from infiltrating the patrol teams.

According to the specific deployment, there were three defensive lines surrounding Wang Ruo—innermost were the palace maids and eunuchs in the inner hall and side pavilions, watching Wang Ruo constantly. Next were thirty men in the outer hall, spread throughout the outer corridors and pavilions, able to see anyone entering or leaving the inner hall and pavilions at any time. Thirty men patrolled along the inside of the palace wall, and thirty along the outside. One hundred men per shift, rotating in two shifts. There were also eight team leaders and two chief commanders, totaling two hundred men.

The modestly sized Yongchun Hall maintained a constant guard of two hundred men, creating an almost impenetrable atmosphere.

“The hall has been thoroughly searched, absolutely no one has infiltrated. Please rest assured, Lady Wang!” the commanders of the Imperial Guards and Prince’s Guards reported to Wang Ruo and Wang Yun.

Wang Yun stood up and bid farewell to Wang Ruo, saying, “The night grows deep, you should rest early. I’ll be in the front hall.”

Wang Ruo and Huang Zixia saw him to the door, watching him leave.

Huang Zixia stood at the hall entrance, observing the guards stationed among the corridors and artificial mountains. The encircling formation reminded her of the bird cage held by that mysterious man at Xianyou Temple. Yet who could have imagined that such a densely woven purple bamboo bird cage had a hidden mechanism—requiring just a small movement to turn everything upside down and switch the dragon with the phoenix?

Wang Ruo, like a little bird in that cage, sat alone in the hall, watching the palace maids light the lamps, lost in thought.

Huang Zixia walked to her side and asked, “What is Lady Wang looking at?”

Wang Ruo slowly drew her gaze from the lamps and looked up at her, tears glistening in her eyes, which reflected the flickering lamplight: “Chonggu, I…”

Her throat choked with emotion, her voice hoarse and barely audible: “I feel like this past month has been like a grand dream of a floating life… I obtained circumstances I couldn’t have dreamed of, yet suddenly everything is returning to illusion, like a spring lantern of passing years, about to extinguish in the blink of an eye.”

Huang Zixia heard the endless melancholy in her voice, and beneath that melancholy seemed hidden an even deeper sorrow.

Windswept gently through the palace gate, making the palace lamps slowly rotate, alternating between bright and dim.

As the wind rises, spring lamps dim; after rain, passing years bring grief. Huang Zixia looked at Wang Ruo’s downcast face—such a young woman in the prime of her beauty, yet she seemed to be treading on thin ice at the edge of an abyss.

Although knowing that she didn’t know what kind of soul existed within Wang Ruo’s heart, Huang Zixia unconsciously felt faint compassion and tried to comfort her: “Please ease your mind, Lady Wang. Here in the Great Ming Palace, with so many soldiers standing strict guard, not even a tiny insect could fly in—how could anything possibly go wrong?”

Wang Ruo nodded but still appeared deeply troubled.

Huang Zixia didn’t know how else to comfort her, feeling that the Empress might have been too cautious, instead multiplying Wang Ruo’s pressure. Just as she was thinking of words of comfort, she looked up and saw Li Shubai appear in the bright-as-day lamplight outside.

He walked to the hall entrance and looked inside. Xian Yun and Ran Yun hurriedly bowed, while Su Qi accompanied Wang Ruo as she stood and bowed to him.

In the lamplight, she saw Wang Ruo’s eyes light up like lustrous pearls the instant they fell upon Li Shubai, emanating an extraordinarily moving radiance. Yet her expression was shy and tinged with sorrow; under the hall’s many lamps, she showed both joy and worry, her smile unable to hide the faint melancholy between her brows.

Li Shubai glanced at her and nodded in acknowledgment but didn’t speak, merely gesturing for Huang Zixia to come out.

Huang Zixia bowed to Wang Ruo and left, walking with Li Shubai along the courtyard’s blue brick ground, passing through the artificial mountains to the corridor of the front hall. This was barely fifty paces from the inner hall where Wang Ruo stayed, close enough to see and hear everything.

Li Shubai looked in that direction and asked, “What are the arrangements for tonight?”

“Su Qi, Xian Yun, and Ran Yun will accompany Lady Wang to sleep in the left pavilion of the inner hall. I and An Fu will be in the right pavilion, separated only by one great hall—we can respond to anything at any time.”

“Mm, I don’t believe anything major could happen here in the Great Ming Palace, under heavy guard and many watchful eyes,” Li Shubai said, his brows slightly furrowed. “But there are only seven days until the formal wedding day. The Empress making such a grand show now—it seems this matter has become somewhat troublesome.”

As Huang Zixia was still wondering what kind of trouble he meant, she heard Li Shubai say flatly: “Originally, we should have brought out that birth chart these days, given how pressing time is.”

His voice carried no emotion whatsoever, as casual as discussing today’s weather, showing neither depression nor disgust, yet somehow appearing all the more heartless.

Thinking of Wang Ruo’s ethereal, confused expression, Huang Zixia couldn’t help but ask quietly: “Could it be that My Lord intends to reveal the truth at the moment of establishing her as Princess? If so, it might be difficult for the Empress and the Wang family to save face.”

“I will handle it privately. How could I not give a face to the Wang family of Langya?”

Just as Huang Zixia didn’t know what to say, she turned her head to see Wang Ruo walking over from the inner hall. The night wind gently lifted her clothes and hair; she wore a yellow robe, her hair loosely arranged in a celestial bun, with a dewdrop-veined leaf hairpin in her temple. She walked through the garden’s artificial mountains with Ran Yun, approaching them.

Her figure was perfectly proportioned, standing half a head taller than ordinary women, and when she walked, her movements were like wind over water, graceful and captivating. Coming before them, she curtsied gracefully and said softly, “Greetings, Prince Qi.”

Li Shubai nodded, gesturing for her to rise. She looked up at him and said quietly: “Thank you, My Lord, for personally coming to inquire. Wang Ruo is deeply moved. I trust that with the palace’s strict security and so many Prince’s Guards and Imperial Guards protecting day and night, surely nothing can go wrong. My Lord need not worry.”

Though she spoke these words, her eyes, wide as she gazed up at Li Shubai, revealed sadness and fear like that of a startled deer, even showing a kind of lingering attachment. Huang Zixia could imagine how heartbroken and disappointed she would be if Li Shubai truly left now after hearing her words.

Fortunately, Li Shubai gave a slight smile and said to her: “Certainly so, there’s no need to worry. Go rest now, and from tomorrow on, stay peacefully here in the palace.”

“Yes,” Wang Ruo curtsied deeply.

Her long, thick eyelashes covered her eyes, and a glimmer of lamplight flashed like water in her eyes—for a moment, Huang Zixia thought it was a tear.

She stood up, saying nothing more, and walked back to the inner hall with a lowered head.

Li Shubai and Huang Zixia watched as she wound her way past the artificial mountains in the night wind, moving slowly but steadily back to the hall. When she reached the entrance, she seemed somewhat dazed, her foot catching on the threshold. Ran Yun quickly steadied her and helped arrange her skirts.

Li Shubai withdrew his gaze and said, “Since there are so many guards watching, I’ll return to the residence. You keep an eye on things here.”

“Very well,” Huang Zixia responded, though her eyes were still on the inner hall. She saw Xian Yun carrying a food box out, heading toward the small kitchen in the back, while Ran Yun came out with a lamp to light the outside, saying something softly.

Huang Zixia called out across the artificial mountain: “What are you looking for?”

Ran Yun cupped her hands around her mouth and called back: “Lady Wang’s dewdrop-veined leaf hairpin is missing!”

Huang Zixia waved to Li Shubai, saying: “I’ll help them look.”

Li Shubai silently watched her hurry across the courtyard.

As Huang Zixia passed through the artificial mountain, she spotted a golden glint on the ground—an openwork gold leaf design with two pearls “dewdrops,” the very hairpin that had been in Wang Ruo’s temple moments ago.

She picked it up and hurried to Ran Yun’s side, handing it to her.

As the three of them reached the hall entrance, they met Xian Yun returning with the food box. She opened it with a troubled expression to show them: “The kitchen maids have already been cleared out. I only found a few pastries in the cabinet. Would you like some for the night?”

“Eat, eat, eat, that’s all you think about. Look how thick your waist has gotten!” Ran Yun mocked.

Xian Yun retorted: “Hmph, Yang Guifei was plump and round, and she was the most beautiful woman in the land!”

“How dare you compare yourself to Yang Guifei? Besides, she lived hundreds of years ago—plump beauties aren’t in fashion anymore! Look at our Lady Wang’s waist—that’s what you call beautiful!”

Huang Zixia stood in the hall, hearing no sound from the left pavilion, and quickly walked to its entrance to look inside.

In the small pavilion, a tasseled canopy bed with brocade quilts still neatly folded; an empty mother-of-pearl inlaid carved couch sitting quietly under the window; a low table with two brocade cushions on a gold-speckled carpet depicting flowers raining from heaven; a four-seasons floral pattern rosewood wardrobe arranged in the corner.

The palace lamps shone with a mercury-like cold brightness, illuminating the entire small pavilion, but there was no one there.

Wang Ruo, who had walked into the left pavilion under everyone’s watchful eyes just moments ago, had vanished without a sound in that brief instant, like a wisp of blue smoke dissipating in the air.

While others stood stunned behind her, Huang Zixia had already stepped forward, opened the wardrobe for a look, bent to check under the bed, and finally turned to the couch, opening the tightly closed window to look outside, where she saw two guards standing straight at attention.

She looked up and saw Li Shubai in the front hall, speaking with someone beside him. Seeming to notice the commotion in her direction from the corner of his eye, he turned to look at her.

She waved to him, indicating something was wrong.

Li Shubai quickly crossed the courtyard and came over, looked at the empty pavilion, and immediately ordered everyone to search the main hall and side pavilions. However, Yongchun Hall was only so big, and in a short while, every corner had been searched, with no trace of Wang Ruo.

Hurried footsteps were heard outside as Yan Ling, the Empress’s lady-in-waiting, rushed in with Su Qi, asking: “What’s happened?”

Seeing Li Shubai in the hall, she quickly bowed, her gaze questioning Su Qi, who hurriedly said quietly: “Lady Wang… we don’t know where she’s gone.”

Yan Ling was shocked and said: “I was just following the Empress’s orders to bring palace flowers and clothing for Lady Wang with Su Qi… how… in such a short time, with so many people, how could she just…”

Li Shubai said: “You go report to the Empress first. We’ll search the hall again, and if we find her, we’ll inform the Empress immediately.”

“Leave a few people to help search, I must hurry back to Penglai Hall,” Yan Ling said, gesturing for the palace maids carrying clothes behind her to quickly set down their things, taking only two or three people back with her.

Under Li Shubai’s orders, the many people in Yongchun Hall searched every blade of grass, every blue brick, and every piece of wood more than ten times over, but found no trace whatsoever.

Just as the prophecy had foretold, Wang Ruo disappeared before her grand wedding, and she vanished from within the Great Ming Palace itself, under heavy guard.