The pavilion had been quiet for a while when Feng Jiu’er looked up at the figure gazing blankly at the sky.

“Empress, since your life has been so unsatisfying, why not go back?”

The Empress withdrew her gaze and looked at her, her expression calm. “Where should this palace go back to?”

“The Fengxi Kingdom.” Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together. “Are your parents still there?”

The Empress shook her head and picked up the teapot to pour more tea.

“I’ve heard my elder brother has also fallen gravely ill. The palace there is in chaos right now, all because of the succession.”

“If there is a next life,” the Empress gazed into the distance once more, “I hope to be born into an ordinary family.”

“No matter which kingdom, no harem could ever be harmonious. Never let yourself be drawn into this world of right and wrong for the sake of some fleeting benefit.”

The Empress looked at Feng Jiu’er, the corner of her mouth curling slightly.

“Is the Empress worried about me?” Feng Jiu’er smiled lightly as well. “This lowly one is already a married woman. That could never happen to me in this lifetime.”

“Oh.” The Empress raised an eyebrow. “One really couldn’t tell.”

“But it’s clear that little Feng lives quite happily.”

Feng Jiu’er pressed her lips together and lowered her head to pick up a piece of pastry.

“It’s alright, I suppose.” Her face flushed slightly as she nodded. “He treats me very well, and I love him very much too.”

“Then what happened to the person the Empress once loved? Where is he now?”

The Empress’s face turned somewhat pale, her lips pressing thin.

“He was a great general of the Fengxi Kingdom, a valiant man. Unfortunately, he never married and had no children of his own — I was the one who held him back.”

“Ah? What a shame!” Feng Jiu’er let out a long sigh.

She pressed her lips together and continued, “If the general is still waiting for the Empress, the Empress could very well take the chance.”

The Empress sighed, picked up her cup, and took a sip of tea.

“It’s impossible.” She shook her head helplessly. “I am the Empress of the Feng Clan. No matter where I go, this identity will never change.”

With a “clunk,” the Empress set down her cup.

“The world is simply unfair. Some hold in their palms something they wish to cherish for a lifetime, only to have it trampled under others’ feet.”

This was the first time Feng Jiu’er had seen a trace of resentment in the Empress’s eyes.

She leaned forward and gently took hold of the Empress’s hand.

“Empress, as long as you’re alive, there is hope.”

“You’re not even afraid of death — so why fear living? Besides, the Empress clearly knows the general is still waiting for you.”

“Leave the palace, leave the Feng Clan. Perhaps you’d have to live a life on the run.”

“But as long as one lives in this world, one must live for oneself!”

“I think dying in the arms of someone you love is worth far more than surviving a lifetime beneath the feet of someone who doesn’t cherish you!”

Feng Jiu’er let go of the Empress’s hand, stood up, and bowed.

“This lowly one has overstepped. Please forgive this transgression, Empress.”

Just as the Empress reached out to help her up, Feng Jiu’er took half a step back.

“There is one more matter for which this lowly one hopes to receive the Empress’s forgiveness.”

The Empress’s brow furrowed slightly. “What is it?”

“In truth, Empress, the medicinal powder in Lady Xin’s hands also came from my people.”

“This lowly one never expected that powder would make its way into the harem, let alone harm the Empress.”

Feng Jiu’er bent her knees and knelt down. “This lowly one begs the Empress’s forgiveness!”

“Rise.” The Empress personally helped Feng Jiu’er up.

Feng Jiu’er stood, and she and the Empress sat back down together in their seats.

“Isn’t the Empress angry?” she asked in a low voice.

“Life isn’t easy. As long as you’re not wholeheartedly trying to harm others, it’s fine.” The Empress shook her head.

Feng Jiu’er let out a small breath of relief. She was certainly not wholeheartedly trying to harm anyone — she only had to resort to certain methods to save her father.

“Thank you, Empress.” She picked up her chopsticks again.

The Empress watched the girl eating her pastry and said nothing more.

The daylight faded away, and night truly began to fall.

The Empress needed to return to the palace, and Feng Jiu’er accompanied her back.

The harem was very quiet, as if today’s events had never happened at all.

Feng Jiu’er bid the Empress farewell, got into her own carriage, and left the palace with Jian Yi driving.

That night, Feng Jiu’er went to that temple once again.

This time, the ones who went with her, besides Jian Yi, also included Qiao Mu.

Three figures in black seized a young monk in the back courtyard.

Feng Jiu’er pressed her short blade against the young monk’s throat.

“Speak! Where does the monk who usually makes pastries for the Empress live?” Feng Jiu’er’s low voice rang out.

“There, there are two monks who make pastries for the Empress. This lowly one doesn’t know which one you mean…” The young monk trembled with fear.

“The older one.” Feng Jiu’er continued.

“That would be Brother Nian. He, he lives in the third chamber over there.” The young monk pointed toward a row of buildings not far off.

“Great one, spare me! I’ve told you everything, please don’t hurt me.”

Feng Jiu’er glanced forward, withdrew her short blade, and struck the young monk on the back of the neck.

The young monk collapsed at once.

As Feng Jiu’er left, she sprinkled a powder over the young monk’s face.

“When he wakes, he won’t remember what just happened.”

“Jian Yi, keep watch outside. Qiao Mu and I will go in.”

Jian Yi nodded, gave a light push off the ground with his toes, and his body leapt up, landing steadily on a rooftop not far away.

Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu both glanced up at him at the same moment before walking toward the chamber the young monk had pointed to.

In the dead of night, when the chamber door was pushed open, darkness filled the room inside.

Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu exchanged a glance and were about to step closer when a middle-aged man’s voice came from the bed platform.

“Who are you?”

He sounded entirely composed, showing not the slightest fear toward the intruders who had come in the night.

“I heard that thirty years ago, you served in the palace kitchens. Is that true?” Feng Jiu’er asked, suppressing her voice.

“No.” the man replied flatly. “That was nothing more than my own boasting. If I had truly served in the palace, why would I have left?”

“Because you learned something you shouldn’t have!” Feng Jiu’er’s tone grew sharper.

The man said nothing, and the room fell into silence.

After a moment, Feng Jiu’er said in a deep voice, “Is your silence an admission?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” the man replied coldly.

“Prince Ye is nearly being driven to his death, and you still want to play dumb?” Feng Jiu’er swung her short blade.

The blade’s wind swept past, lifting the curtain and hooking it to either side of the bed.

A bald man with scars on his face and head appeared before Feng Jiu’er and Qiao Mu.

Moonlight spilled in, and Feng Jiu’er could now see the man’s features clearly.

The man looked at Feng Jiu’er, blade in hand, and said quietly, “You two are still young. Go.”

“Go somewhere quiet and live a good life.”

“I’m not afraid to die!” Feng Jiu’er stared at him. “And you aren’t either, are you?”

“If you were afraid of death, you wouldn’t have changed your appearance thirty years ago and hidden away in this dangerous place.”

In the blink of an eye, Feng Jiu’er had already reached the bedside, pressing the short blade against the man’s throat.

“Speak! Who are you waiting for? What exactly do you know?”