This was the first time Song Yuhe couldn’t explain his behavior.

After returning to the room and closing the door, An Mianmian could no longer support herself and collapsed to the floor.

Her eyes filled with tears, but as soon as they fell, she wiped them away. She clenched her fists tightly without making a sound.

Song Yuhe crouched before her, his tone unusually gentle: “It wasn’t because of you.”

“This servant knows,” An Mianmian kept her head down, staring at Song Yuhe’s pristine white brocade robes, spotless as if they had never been stained with blood. Her eyes were desolate. “Lord Chu always opposed Your Highness in court. He married his daughter to you as a secondary consort because he wanted to use Chu Xiaoran to find Your Highness’s faults and put you in mortal danger.”

“What else do you know?”

“That day, even if Little Dou hadn’t frightened this servant, there would have been other reasons later. Your Highness killed Fanglan and divorced Chu Xiaoran not for this servant’s sake.” An Mianmian closed her eyes and continued: “This servant just happened to walk onto Your Highness’s chessboard and went with the flow.”

“Quite clever.” Song Yuhe’s gaze gradually showed appreciation as he looked at her. Though what she said wasn’t entirely correct, her ability to guess this much was beyond his expectations. “Since you understand the reasoning, why are you crying?”

“This servant isn’t crying.” An Mianmian wiped her tears again, saying, “Mu Chi said Your Highness doesn’t like seeing people cry, so the tears haven’t fallen.”

“Cry then.” Seeing her in such a state yet still thinking of this, Song Yuhe smiled helplessly and asked, “Why are you sad?”

“Afraid of death.” An Mianmian looked up at him, tears falling like broken pearls. “Afraid I’ll die, afraid Your Highness will die, afraid others will die because of me. When the flood came, Father and Mother put me on the roof, telling me to take good care of my little brother and live well. But the wind was too strong, and we were both blown down. I couldn’t hold onto my little brother. Like Father and Mother, he was swept into the water and disappeared forever.”

An Mianmian transgressed by grabbing Song Yuhe’s sleeve, her dark eyes filled with tears as she said through sobs: “Your Highness, this servant is afraid of being like Xiaohua, randomly accused of some fault and beaten to death. I’m also afraid of offending someone and being stabbed to death. This servant only wants to be an ordinary person, living peacefully through life, just wanting to live well.”

Song Yuhe looked at her. After a long while, he gently pulled her into his embrace and patted her shoulder, seemingly sighing softly: “This prince will protect you.”

The Emperor issued an edict: Prince Zhen disregarded the law and indulged his subordinates in killing people in broad daylight. But considering their brotherly bond, he was exiled to his Jiangnan fief and forbidden from entering the capital for five years.

When An Mianmian turned fifteen, Song Yuhe exceptionally held a grand coming-of-age ceremony for her.

Mu Chi said His Highness wanted to set the minds of the young lady’s deceased family at ease.

An Mianmian lowered her eyes without responding.

She wore a lotus-pink jade hairpin and asked Song Yuhe with a smile if it looked good.

Song Yuhe glanced at it and nodded: “It suits you well.”

An Mianmian looked in the mirror and smiled, then removed the hairpin and placed it in her jewelry box. She didn’t tell him this was the one he had given to Xiaohua last year, also saying it suited her well.

Xiaohua’s lingering affection and joyful expectations – in the end, that person had never taken them to heart.

Having stayed here for three years, during New Year’s, she stepped forward to pour wine and heard him ask: “Would you like to become Princess Zhen this year?”

This was the second time he had asked this question.

Since her coming-of-age, he had asked once every year.

The clear wine overflowed, spilling down the table. Song Yuhe took everything in, drew the wine pot from her hands, and placed it on the table, chuckling softly: “Leave the New Year’s gift here and go.”

An Mianmian placed the peace charm she had obtained from Shengde Temple on the table.

Last year, she had given him a gold-edged belt, spending almost all her savings.

But Song Yuhe had only glanced at it before tossing it aside with considerable disdain, saying: “Something you can buy in any shop with money has no sincerity.”

An Mianmian had racked her brains before thinking to go to the famous Shengde Temple in Jiangnan to obtain a peace charm, climbing a full 4,900 steps to get it.

After coming down the mountain, An Mianmian couldn’t get out of bed for a week.

This gift should surely be sincere.

A lady who descended the mountain with her said she was thoughtful, and whoever received the peace charm would surely be happy.

An Mianmian smiled and said, “Perhaps.”

She rarely appeared publicly with Song Yuhe, so everyone was unfamiliar with her. She had learned dialect from the Jiangnan sisters in the palace. Her voice was naturally soft and gentle, and when she occasionally spoke a few words of dialect, it was rather endearing.

She had also taught it to Mu Chi, but gave up after a few sentences, laughing: “I can barely speak it myself, yet here I am teaching you.”

After obtaining the charm, she asked a young monk nearby: “Will it be effective?”

The monk first said “Amitabha,” then told her that as long as her heart was sincere, Buddha would hear her.

An Mianmian thanked him and gazed at the Buddha statue for a long time without speaking.

In her heart, she spoke to Buddha: If you truly exist, I beg you to open your eyes and see what kind of world the subjects of the Song Dynasty live under.

She prayed to Buddha for protection, not for Song Yuhe’s safety, but for the Emperor to sit firmly on the throne and rule the people with benevolence.

Jiangnan winters had no snow. On idle evenings, An Mianmian would move a soft couch to the courtyard, lie under a blanket, and bask in the moonlight.

Song Yuhe had come several times, not understanding her behavior.

She said, “Absorbing the essence of sun and moon.”

“Why don’t you bask during the day?” Song Yuhe asked.

“I’ll get dark.”

“…”

When Song Yuhe had free time, he would call An Mianmian over to drink tea and play chess together. During these three years in Jiangnan, her chess skills had improved considerably.

It was the second year after coming to Jiangnan. He had been busy all year, and An Mianmian had consciously avoided disturbing him. Perhaps because she had returned to her hometown, she often went out.

During New Year’s, she wore a bright yellow jacket. This year, she had taken good care of herself – her face was round. Thinking to tease her, that phrase “would you like to be a princess” had slipped out.

But he saw her kneel on the ground as if she had heard something shocking, the bewilderment in her eyes genuine.

He hadn’t expected such a reaction. It had been a casual remark, so he dismissed her.

But somehow, this matter kept weighing on his mind, so after a few days, he asked her again why she was unwilling to be a princess.

She kept her head down, not daring to speak. Her large eyes blinked at him with a tentative question: “Should I tell the truth?”

Sometimes Song Yuhe truly felt helpless – how could someone be both intelligent and foolish?

“To be a princess, one must be of noble birth to be worthy of Your Highness,” An Mianmian said, holding the hand warmer Mu Chi had brought and lowering her eyes. “Moreover, Your Highness doesn’t like me either.”

Song Yuhe had wanted to refute this, but on second thought, she was right. He indeed didn’t have feelings for her.

“If you won’t be a princess, then who do you want to marry?”

“If Your Highness liked me, even if people mocked my humble origins, I would be willing.” An Mianmian smiled at him, her eyes filled with unconcealed, overflowing affection. “If Your Highness doesn’t like me, I will stay by your side and help you find your true princess.”

Song Yuhe had seen countless women – some charming, some seductive, some intelligent, some foolish. Some coveted his power, others feared his status. An Mianmian was like them in that she would fear him, serve him anxiously and carefully, speaking flattering words.

Yet there was always something different about her that made him interested in exploring further.

Somehow, Song Yuhe suddenly felt that covering her eyes three years ago in the capital’s Zhen Prince Mansion had been the right thing to do.

These eyes were bright, clear, transparent, and pure. They understood the world’s complexity and changes, yet remained bright and clean.

Just as she said, she didn’t want to meddle in anything – she only wanted to live well.

When spring came, the Emperor sent people to assist Song Yuhe in governing the Jiangnan flood disaster.

What flood disaster? It was merely a reminder for Song Yuhe to behave himself and not cause trouble.

An Mianmian had packed early to go listen to storytelling.

Since Tingxuan Pavilion had opened half a year ago, she had stumbled upon it during a casual stroll and become fascinated with listening to stories. The old gentleman always began in the morning, telling only one session, and she could never make it in time. Having finally asked Ning Ge to help her queue up, she needed to hurry over.

“Miss An.” Just as she left the mansion, someone called her name. An Mianmian turned around to discover a carriage stopped at the gate. A man in dark blue official robes descended from the carriage, smiling as he bowed to her: “It’s been a long time. I trust you’ve been well?”

An Mianmian looked left and right, confirming he was speaking to her, and asked: “Do you know me?”

“I am Zhao Anhao.”

“Oh, it’s you. You must be tired from the long journey.” Before he could speak, An Mianmian interrupted him: “I can’t talk now – I’m rushing to hear storytelling. See you later!”

An Mianmian ran a few steps, then looked back to see him still standing there. She turned around and continued running toward Tingxuan Pavilion.

Rushing frantically, she finally made it just before the session began. She patted the impatient Ning Ge and said, “Thank you, Master Ning, for your assistance!”

Ning Ge brushed off her hand and patted his shoulder with disgust: “Go home early after watching.”

Since An Mianmian had awakened from poisoning, Ning Ge hadn’t looked at her properly. Now was better – in previous years, he had been too lazy to say even a word to her.

When Song Yuhe asked her how she had offended Ning Ge, An Mianmian shook her head in bewilderment. After thinking all night without success, she let it be.

She understood – Ning Ge still minded the Blood Resolve Pill inside her body.

After listening to the story, she went to the pastry shop in the south of the city to buy some cakes before leisurely returning to the mansion. The craftsmanship of Jiangnan pastry shops was far inferior to Manjiexiang’s, perhaps because An Mianmian couldn’t get used to Jiangnan flavors.

Not only pastries – she also couldn’t get used to Jiangnan cuisine.

But she couldn’t show this, could only pretend to love it, smiling at Song Yuhe: “I haven’t eaten this in years. It still tastes like when I was small. Does Your Highness find it to your taste?”

Song Yuhe didn’t seem to particularly love any food. In the four years by his side, An Mianmian had only observed that he disliked sweets, didn’t eat spicy food, and didn’t like fish. Last year, he had eaten a few more bites of tofu during one meal, but the next day, when it was served, he didn’t touch it.

It seemed there was no food in this world he particularly loved.

But there was one thing – when he was in a good mood, he liked drinking flower tea. This was something An Mianmian had discovered after long observation.

He both cherished and didn’t cherish his life.

Such bitter medicine, three times a day, he would drink it without blinking. He rarely drank alcohol, seldom truly got angry, slept and rose early, and whenever the weather turned cold, he would bundle himself up, not letting a bit of cold wind touch him.

But when the old physician told him to cultivate inner peace more, saying overwork harmed the body and drinking less tea would reduce the medicine’s effectiveness, he blamed the old physician for lacking medical skills and not prescribing medicine that wouldn’t be negated by tea.

This angered the old physician so much that his beard bristled as he cursed, saying he would never treat him again. Ning Ge coaxed gently from the side while Song Yuhe slightly bowed and smiled: “Divine Physician, please calm your anger. Getting angry harms the liver.”

An Mianmian was dumbfounded – this was the first time she had seen Song Yuhe yield to someone.

Seeing her genuine curiosity, her round eyes darting between the two men, Song Yuhe couldn’t help saying: “Say whatever you’re thinking.”

“Your Highness looks truly human like this.”

Meeting the old physician’s meaningful gaze, like an old eagle, An Mianmian looked back at him, blinking innocently with some inquiry in her eyes.

Later, Song Yuhe told her this old physician was his lifesaver – without him, he wouldn’t have lived till now.

He traveled the world and would seek out Song Yuhe every few years to re-examine him. If Song Yuhe’s condition was poor, he would stay at the prince’s mansion for several days.

“He doesn’t seem to have a very good temper,” An Mianmian laughed. “The Divine Physician left so quickly this time – Your Highness’s health must be fine.”

Song Yuhe nodded, indicating she should pour tea: “He only stayed once, many years ago, when I was injured at Jiasheng Pass.”

An Mianmian’s hand trembled imperceptibly, dropping two drops on the table. Without changing expression, she frowned: “Who brewed this tea?”

She showed Song Yuhe the teacup with tea leaves inside.

Just after speaking, she realized she had brewed it herself and giggled: “I’ll go brew another cup.”

Her guilty expression made Song Yuhe smile involuntarily. Just as he opened his mouth, An Mianmian covered it with her hand, whispering urgently in his ear: “No palm strikes! I’ll change it right away!”

After speaking, she ran off like the wind.

An Mianmian had just exited when she encountered Ning Ge entering. Both were startled, the teapot slipped from her hands, and An Mianmian quickly grabbed the door frame to avoid falling.

Ning Ge handed her the teapot he had caught and walked sideways into the room.

An Mianmian made a face at his black shadow, gestured with her little fists a few times, then left as well.

When she returned with fresh tea, they were discussing tomorrow’s inspection of the sea area.

Jiangnan bordered the sea. In earlier years, pirates had been rampant, repeatedly invading. After Song Yuhe arrived, he used thunderous methods to behead the pirate leader, finally deterring them.

An Mianmian set down the teacup and smiled as she massaged Song Yuhe’s shoulders: “I want to go too.”

“No.” Song Yuhe’s thin lips parted, speaking the words An Mianmian didn’t want to hear.

An Mianmian pouted – as expected.

Spring nights were always boring. An Mianmian couldn’t sleep and wandered alone in the prince’s mansion garden. Jiangnan was like spring year-round, and the gentle evening breeze was quite pleasant.

“Why are you here?” A sudden voice made An Mianmian jump ten meters away, looking back in terror.

Ning Ge stood there in black clothes, frowning. An Mianmian pointed to the nearby pond: “Weren’t you just over there?”

“You saw me?”

“Of course, I’m not blind!” She had seen Ning Ge standing alone there, not knowing what he was thinking. She didn’t care and had planned to pretend not to see him and pass by, but unexpectedly got such a fright.

Annoying, really annoying.

An Mianmian didn’t want to deal with him.

“What are you doing here?” Ning Ge looked around and asked her with a frown.

“I couldn’t sleep, so I came out for a stroll,” An Mianmian answered irritably, glancing at him and letting her gaze drop to his hands. “Injured?”

Hearing this, Ning Ge instinctively hid his hands behind his back and said, “It’s cold at night. Go back quickly,” then started to leave.

“Peace and prosperity, people living in harmony – isn’t this what those in high positions hope for?” An Mianmian asked, looking at his retreating figure. Ning Ge seemed not to hear and didn’t stop.

Due to the poisoning incident years ago, An Mianmian’s health had never been quite right after she recovered. Though she felt perfectly healthy, whenever physicians took her pulse, they looked troubled, as if she wouldn’t last much longer.

She felt she could eat and sleep well, was lively and energetic, and hadn’t been sick for two years. It wasn’t as serious as they thought, but whenever the weather turned cold, Song Yuhe wouldn’t let her leave the mansion.

She loved watching opera, so Song Yuhe had opera troupes perform at the prince’s mansion. When she wanted to release sky lanterns, he found vendors who made them to come to the mansion, and the servants accompanied her in releasing them.

In short, she could do anything except leave the mansion.

So every year from the beginning of winter until spring, she rarely left the mansion.

Now that she could finally go out, An Mianmian went out every day.

Yesterday, she heard that there would be a poetry gathering in the bamboo forest north of the city today. Jiangnan frequently held poetry gatherings – even three-year-old children on the streets could recite several poems. An Mianmian had only attended one with Song Yuhe in her first year, which was quite grand, but she was required to return at dusk.

They said she was tired from traveling and needed more rest.

This time, taking advantage of Song Yuhe being tied up with official duties and unable to pay attention to her, she left the prince’s mansion right after he did.

An Mianmian left a letter for Mu Chi, telling her to come find her in the north of the city after receiving the jewelry presented by the border tributary state, bringing the prepared pastries. She inserted her recently favored hairpin and happily went out.

Riding Wind Chime, the small horse Song Yuhe had specially provided for her, she reached the north of the city in no time, but the surroundings were so quiet it didn’t seem like there was a poetry gathering.

An Mianmian slowed her pace, warily observing her surroundings, her hand instinctively reaching for the whistle around her neck.

But she didn’t find it. Only then did An Mianmian remember she had casually removed it a few days ago and had forgotten to put it back on.

Song Yuhe had too many enemies. When they couldn’t kill him, they would target those around him. When he gave An Mianmian the whistle, he said that if she encountered danger, she should blow it, and within ten miles, hidden guards would surely come to save her.

This was Song Yuhe’s secret power.

The bamboo forest rustled, and two black-clothed men with covered faces and knives jumped out, surrounding An Mianmian.

“Who are you?” An Mianmian asked coldly. “Come to kill me?”

“Attack!” The black-clothed man didn’t answer her, waving his knife as he charged forward.

The blade gleamed coldly. Before the black-clothed man’s knife could reach An Mianmian, it was struck by a silver needle.

All three were stunned. The next second, a second silver needle pierced through one of the black-clothed men’s eyes. Only hearing him cry out in pain, he fell to the ground, struggling in agony.

After a whistle sounded, a black figure wearing a mask descended from the air, blocking An Mianmian’s path.

Soon after, dozens more black-clothed men appeared, surrounding An Mianmian in a circle.

“What are your chances of winning?” An Mianmian asked, looking at him. She had always known that since entering the prince’s mansion, someone had been watching her, sent by Song Yuhe to monitor her.

Like Mu Chi, except one was in the light, one in the shadows.

For four years, he had never shown himself, but now he appeared, which could only mean the situation was dangerous, and he had no choice but to reveal himself.

“This subordinate has contacted reinforcements. Find an opportunity to ride away in a moment.” The man said only this before drawing his blade to strike at those black-clothed men.

His martial arts were superior – those men couldn’t get close for a while.

But ultimately, two fists couldn’t match many hands. The two were gradually pressed closer. Though the man’s martial arts were strong, protecting An Mianmian inevitably led to some injuries. Finally finding an opportunity, he pushed her toward the small horse.

“Go quickly!”

An Mianmian mounted and rode toward the forest’s edge, but after only a few steps, an arrow pierced Wind Chime’s belly.

The horse, in pain, threw An Mianmian off, and she fell heavily to the ground.

Seven or eight swords pointed at An Mianmian, preventing her from moving.

The hidden guard was still fighting those men, but his movements gradually slowed, blood slowly dripping from his sword.

“Run!” An Mianmian shouted. “Their target is me! Go back and get His Highness to save me – don’t throw your life away here!”

As soon as she finished speaking, the hidden guard was stabbed in the abdomen. His sword point supported him against the ground as he turned toward An Mianmian and knelt. The next second, another sword pierced his chest from behind.

“Foolish loyalty!” An Mianmian’s voice was hoarse, large tears sliding down as she watched him slowly fall. “Foolish loyalty…”

That man had been by her side for four years. She had only seen his shadow that winter night, not knowing his appearance, age, or temperament.

Why did such things exist in this world?

Song Yuhe had sent people to kill her entire family, yet Song Yuhe’s man died trying to save her.

Those men tied up An Mianmian, blindfolded her, and took her away.

She only felt the horse’s jolting. After a short while, they made her dismount and go downward, as if underground.

Such a short distance – probably hadn’t left the city.

They tied An Mianmian to a chair and removed the black cloth from her face.

It was a pitch-black underground space. Before long, an elderly man came down – in his sixties or seventies, leaning on a cane, occasionally coughing. He sat before her and said quite politely: “Miss, forgive the offense. I’ve come to ask for something from you to save my young son’s life.”

Someone emerged from the shadows, bringing a knife and bowl, placing them beside An Mianmian.

“Old man that I am, I had a son in my old age – only got this one son at sixty. He was born with a chronic illness and can only survive with Blood Resolve Pills.” When the old man said this, An Mianmian realized what he intended to do.

There had always been rumors that Blood Resolve Pills could cure all illnesses, and drinking the blood of someone who had taken Blood Resolve Pills could also have life-restoring effects.

She had asked Song Yuhe about this before.

Song Yuhe had sneered coldly: “Nonsense.”

But once rumors spread, people would believe them.

“Do you know why Prince Zhen’s secondary consort, the Grand Minister of Imperial Sacrifices’ daughter Chu Xiaoran, died four years ago?” An Mianmian narrowed her eyes, clenched her hands into fists, and asked: “You want to take my blood to save your son, but I’m afraid you’ll all be dead by then.”

Few people knew about Chu Linquan’s poisoning. The version people knew was only that Prince Zhen favored An Mianmian and was willing to divorce his newly wed secondary consort of less than a month for her sake, nearly wiping out the entire Chu family. Even the Empress Dowager could only scold Prince Zhen a few times and couldn’t do anything to An Mianmian.

“That’s my son!” The old man roared like a madman. “He’s only seven years old and has a terminal illness. All the physicians in Jiangnan can’t cure him. I prayed to Buddha for decades before getting this son. I must save him!”

“Do it!”

The dagger cutting her wrist wasn’t as painful as An Mianmian had expected. She just felt a bit cold. After two bowls of blood had been drawn, her consciousness gradually blurred.

She remembered many things, events from long, long ago. Back then, at Jiasheng Pass, Father had held her while standing on the city tower. His beard was a bit prickly. What he had said, An Mianmian could no longer remember clearly. She only remembered that the wind at Jiasheng Pass was quite strong, and the sentinel brothers standing on the city tower stood upright, each one a hot-blooded man protecting home and country.

But suddenly one day, someone came to say Father was a bad man, that Father had opened the city gates to let foreign invaders in. After a few more days, many people rushed in, killing the big yellow dog that guarded the gate, killing the wet nurse who had braided her hair that very morning.

It was raining that night, and the dry well was even colder than now. Mother told her she must not make a sound, then covered the well opening.

She saw blood dripping down the stone walls. She was afraid and wanted to cry, but she didn’t dare.

After an unknown amount of time, hungry and sleepy, wanting water, just like now when her consciousness was blurred, someone moved away the cover.

Light shone into the well. That person peered down and asked if she was still alive, then told her to wait a little longer – they would rescue her soon.

Later, she was taken into the palace by Consort Shu’s people. She asked Consort Shu why she had taken her in.

Consort Shu said she and her mother had been good friends in their youth, and she could not fail to save a good friend’s child.

She asked again if Father had betrayed the country.

Consort Shu told her to forget about this matter. In the palace, besides the Empress Dowager and the Emperor, no one else knew her true identity. She should use the name An Mianmian and live well.

Mother also hoped she would live well, but people all thought the lord of Jiasheng Pass was a great traitor who sold out the country for glory. She wanted to prove Father’s innocence.

For this matter, she had worked hard for thirteen years.

“An Mianmian!” Ning Ge’s voice reached her ears. An Mianmian was dazed for a moment, then opened her eyes to see Ning Ge looking at her with a frown.

How ridiculous.

Ning Ge had killed her entire family, yet in the end, he had saved her.

An Mianmian curved her lips slightly, her eyes desolate.

When they returned to the mansion, Song Yuhe was playing chess with Zhao Anhao. Seeing their condition, Zhao Anhao immediately stood up and frowned: “How did this happen?”

An Mianmian’s face was completely bloodless, her wrists simply bandaged but still seeping blood. Only her occasional light blinks let people know she was still alive.

Song Yuhe summoned the old divine physician, who happened to be touring the Jiangnan area. He hadn’t finished enjoying himself when he was dragged away. Seeing the three characters “Zhen Prince’s Mansion” immediately made him angry enough to hit someone. But when he saw An Mianmian, he became serious and drove everyone out.

This was his habit when treating patients – having people around affected his diagnosis.

After everyone withdrew, Song Yuhe turned his jade thumb ring and glanced at Ning Ge: “Where are they?”

“In the dungeon.” Ning Ge naturally knew he was asking about An Mianmian’s captors.

This matter was simple. Someone had deliberately let An Mianmian hear about today’s poetry gathering. Even if she hadn’t gone this time, there would always be other opportunities.

Song Yuhe had also been careless, thinking Jiangnan was his territory and that after three years of rule, no one would dare act presumptuously.

Yet someone dared to court death on his turf.

Song Yuhe merely made a round of the dungeon, threw the seven-year-old child to the ground in front of the old man, and asked with a smile: “You like bloodletting, do you?”

His smile was cruel, like an evil spirit from hell. No matter how the old man begged, it was useless. He could only watch helplessly as Song Yuhe used the dagger to cut his son’s wrist and hold it over water. The clear water was instantly dyed red, and his son moaned painfully.

Song Yuhe seemed to have touched something dirty and wiped his hands, then turned to leave.

Before leaving, he said one sentence: “Everyone – drain them dry.”

Those six short words took dozens of lives.

The blood from that day filled the entire floor of the dungeon.

The Imperial Physician had said before that Blood Resolve Pills had life-restoring effects and were life-saving medicine.

But this life-saving medicine could only save a life once.

Taking a Blood Resolve Pill could suppress toxins in the body, but if another life-threatening situation arose, it couldn’t save someone a second time.

The old divine physician fed her a blood-replenishing pill and said: “Little girl, ruining your body like this at such a young age – you’ll regret it when you’re old.”

His eagle-like eyes looked at her as if trying to see something in her face.

“It happened suddenly. Mianmian didn’t expect it either.” An Mianmian smiled slightly, her voice weak.

The old divine physician looked at her and smiled without saying anything, then got up and opened the door.

Already sustained by a Blood Resolve Pill, then falling from a horse with internal injuries, and having blood drained, being able to return alive to the prince’s mansion was remarkable.

At most one year.

“Prepare for the funeral. She can’t be saved.” The old divine physician left a prescription and departed.

It was all life-extending, blood-replenishing medicine.

An Mianmian sighed – she could predict her future life.

Perhaps out of habit, she could now drink the extremely bitter medicine in one gulp, just like Song Yuhe.

When summer arrived in Jiangnan, An Mianmian could get out of bed. Hearing that Zhao Anhao was leaving, she wanted to go see him off together.

“This Zhao Anhao must be looking for an excuse to escape because of Jiangnan’s scorching heat.” An Mianmian said to Mu Chi, taking a bite of sugar cake and smiling until her eyes curved into crescents. She looked at her and asked: “What are you packing?”

“His Highness said to have Miss return to the capital together.” Mu Chi said.

An Mianmian got up immediately to find Song Yuhe.

“Why are you making me return to the capital?” An Mianmian went straight to the point.

“Song Rongfeng has Blood Bright Pills that can save your life. You go back to recuperate first. When you’re better, I’ll come get you.” Song Yuhe clicked his tongue, seemingly annoyed that she had disrupted his thoughts.

“Why would His Majesty save me for no reason?”

Song Yuhe put down the military book in his hands and said thoughtfully, “How could a younger brother not save his sister-in-law?”

An Mianmian froze completely in place, not knowing what to say for a moment: “Your Highness…”

“I don’t want to see you die. Consider that I like you.”

An Mianmian had always thought that if Song Yuhe liked her, she might have a better chance of stealing intelligence. But she had never imagined how this day would come.

She should have blocked an arrow for him, or been severely beaten without betraying him, moving him, and making him trust her.

She never expected it would be like this.

On a very ordinary day, Song Yuhe was flipping through a book and casually said, “I like you.”

The day An Mianmian returned to the capital, Song Yuhe didn’t see her off. In his words, she was only leaving for a while – it wasn’t as if they’d never see each other again.

The five-year term was nearly over, and Song Yuhe would be able to leave his Jiangnan fief.

Considering An Mianmian’s poor health, the carriages traveled slowly, stopping frequently, taking over twenty days to reach the capital.

An Mianmian was helped down from the carriage by Mu Chi, bid farewell to Zhao Anhao, and looked up at the plaque of Zhen Prince’s Mansion.

For a moment, it felt like a lifetime had passed.

After four years away, the mansion was still spotlessly clean.

The furnishings in the North Pavilion hadn’t moved at all. An Mianmian took an afternoon nap, and when she woke up, Mu Chi told her that the Imperial Physician had been waiting outside for a long time.

Looking, An Mianmian saw it was still the same two Imperial Physicians. She couldn’t help but smile: “Thank you for the trouble, gentlemen.”

Only the Blood Bright Pills in the Emperor’s possession could save An Mianmian. For now, acupuncture and medicine could only preserve her life temporarily.

An Mianmian stayed in the prince’s mansion the whole time. The former concubines had all been dismissed when Song Yuhe went to Jiangnan, so now it was quite empty.

Very occasionally, when she saw trees in the courtyard, she would think of Xiaohua.

She wondered what state of mind that girl had been in when she committed suicide – sent to the prince’s mansion because of a single compliment, unfortunately falling in love with His Highness.

How foolish. An Mianmian had wanted to advise her, but in the end, she hadn’t.

She let her sink into it, then die.

She hadn’t dared to advise her. To survive in the prince’s mansion, she had to be cautious in word and deed.

It wasn’t until the leaves turned yellow that news came of Song Yuhe’s return to the capital.

An Mianmian stood at the mansion gate, watching the carriage pulled by four horses approach steadily. The curtain lifted, revealing Song Yuhe in brocade robes sitting inside the carriage, smiling.

“The five years aren’t up yet. Why has Your Highness returned to the capital?” she asked.

The autumn wind in the capital was cool, stirring up fallen leaves on the ground and the hem of An Mianmian’s dress.

Song Yuhe’s words came with the autumn wind, his tone calm but gentle. He said, “I’ve come to marry you.”

An Mianmian’s tears fell immediately.

The Emperor said An Mianmian wasn’t Princess Zhen and couldn’t receive the Blood Bright Pills.

So Song Yuhe had returned, even if it meant defying imperial orders, to marry An Mianmian.

The wedding was set for the second day of the eleventh month, an auspicious day.

Once the wedding date was set, the palace sent word that An Mianmian would be taken to the palace for treatment the next day.

When An Mianmian arrived at the main courtyard, Song Yuhe was playing chess. A servant came to serve tea, dividing it into two cups.

Song Yuhe picked up his teacup, but An Mianmian pressed his hand and said: “Your Highness, it hasn’t been tested for poison yet.”

She tested for poison with a silver needle. Song Yuhe didn’t touch his teacup, only held it and turned it around, asking her: “Where should I move?”

An Mianmian lowered her eyes: “I don’t know.”

“It’s a dead game.” Song Yuhe answered himself, moving a black piece, and then there was another long silence.

An Mianmian couldn’t read Song Yuhe’s thoughts, so she stopped talking. After a long while, she heard Song Yuhe say: “Mianmian, why did you do this?”

He knew.

She had laid out a dead end for Song Yuhe.

She had hidden a distribution map of all Song Yuhe’s forces that she had investigated over four years in her hairpin. She deliberately got kidnapped and took the opportunity to pass the hairpin to one of the black-clothed men, who would give it to Zhao Anhao.

She created chaos to divert Song Yuhe’s attention from the spies watching Zhao Anhao.

An Mianmian had set up a trap, using herself as bait to lure Song Yuhe back to the capital.

After returning to the capital, if he didn’t rebel, he could only watch helplessly as the Emperor eliminated his spies, and half a lifetime’s work would be wasted.

If he did rebel, the Emperor had opened the city gates to let Song Yuhe return to the capital – this was inviting him into a trap after making full preparations.

Song Yuhe wouldn’t be unaware of principles that even An Mianmian understood.

But he had returned.

An Mianmian didn’t know exactly how much she weighed in his heart. Regardless of his purpose for returning to the capital, once he came back, he would never be able to leave again.

“Does Your Highness still remember the massacre of the Bai family at Jiasheng Pass thirteen years ago?” Past events flashed before her eyes – the screams that night, Mother frantically throwing her into the dry well, telling her never to make a sound. The people outside had killed with bloodshot eyes, fresh blood flowing on the ground.

One drop, two drops, three drops… slowly forming a small pool.

She didn’t know whose blood it was – perhaps Mother’s, perhaps some maid’s, or perhaps the family’s guard dog.

“Over seventy members of the Bai family, all dead in one night. They said Father sold out the country for glory, disrespected imperial authority, so Prince Zhen sent his subordinate Ning Ge to massacre the Bai mansion.”

An Mianmian stopped here and didn’t continue.

She suddenly didn’t want to talk anymore.

Those past events, that blood, had repeated in her mind countless times. She had fantasized countless times about how she would confront Song Yuhe with hatred, asking him why he had done such things. But when this day really came, she couldn’t speak.

“Will Your Highness rebel?”

She got no answer.

An Mianmian softened her tone and asked sincerely, “Rebelling means rebelling against your own Song family’s dynasty. Touring mountains and waters, wearing fine clothes and eating good food, with everyone respectfully calling you Prince Zhen – isn’t that good?”

She wanted to see Song Yuhe’s expression. Just as she was about to look up, her eyes were covered, just like four years ago at the gate of Zhen Prince’s Mansion in the capital.

These hands were always cold. Due to poor health and inability to practice martial arts, there were no calluses on them, but they carried a pleasant medicinal fragrance. An Mianmian heard him say: “Don’t open your eyes.”

His voice was very soft, so soft that An Mianmian couldn’t hear any emotion: “What’s your name?”

“Sang Yu. Bai Sang Yu.”

“Sang Yu…” An Mianmian heard Song Yuhe murmur once, his tone calm and gentle: “Go to the palace and take good care of yourself.”

“Go on.”

He said nothing, yet answered everything.

An Mianmian got into the sedan chair sent by the palace. As the curtain slowly fell, Song Yuhe didn’t see her off.

He didn’t want to hear her continue, didn’t even dare look into her eyes.

He was panicked. This panic was no less than when she had been carried back by Ning Ge, completely bloodless.

He had originally only asked tentatively, but her initial silence made him feel as if he were sinking to the bottom of a lake.

So it was her.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t investigated, wasn’t that he hadn’t listened to Ning Ge’s advice. Perhaps from the beginning, if he had strangled her, things wouldn’t have become like this.

But he hadn’t. His initial soft-heartedness had led to his gradual retreat.

Before returning to the capital, he had made a trip to Shengde Temple.

Four thousand nine hundred steps – she had walked down them all for a peace charm. A monk asked him what he had come to do.

He also wanted to ask – what was someone who never believed in Buddha doing at a temple?

He said he had come to see Buddha.

The monk said “Amitabha” and told him, “Some things shouldn’t be told even to Buddha.”

Song Yuhe still rebelled.

Song Yuhe was surrounded by imperial guards in the middle. He stood there with Ning Ge fallen at his feet. Looking at the people around him, he suddenly laughed, his voice desolate: “Mother, this is the second time you’ve tried to kill your son.”

In such a vast imperial city, not a single person stood by his side.

When news of his capture reached the inner palace, An Mianmian was reading a book – a folk love story.

She softly said “Mm,” put down the book, and prepared to sleep.

She tossed and turned until midnight without falling asleep, so she simply got up. Without having palace maids follow her, she put on a cloak herself.

In the Jiangnan prince’s mansion, she often did this – when she couldn’t sleep, she would wander in the garden. But unexpectedly, she encountered the Emperor face to face.

He stopped her from performing the full ceremony and had her come over to play chess together.

“Will Your Majesty kill Prince Zhen?”

“If I had made up my mind, I wouldn’t be troubled enough to play chess here so late at night.” Song Rongfeng chuckled softly, then sighed.

An Mianmian looked up once, then withdrew her gaze and placed a piece.

He and Song Yuhe only shared two parts of similarity in their features. When the Emperor was born, the Empress Dowager was already Empress, so he was the Song Dynasty’s legitimate son, rightfully becoming Crown Prince.

Beloved by Mother, disciplined by Father, tutored by the Grand Guardian, he learned governance strategies – tolerant and magnanimous, combining firmness with gentleness.

Completely different from Song Yuhe.

Such a person was most suitable to be the Emperor.

“Killing Prince Zhen would make the people consider Your Majesty a sage ruler. It would bring a hundred benefits with no harm.” An Mianmian said flatly.

As soon as she finished speaking, this move landed in the wrong place.

Both were stunned.

“Do you regret it?” Song Rongfeng asked.

“Once a piece is placed, there’s no taking it back.” An Mianmian looked firmly at the wrongly placed black piece. “Your Majesty must not forget what you promised me.”

Another silence.

“Your Majesty, I want to go see him.”

When the game ended, An Mianmian finally spoke, with some hope in her voice.

Song Rongfeng looked up. The girl before him looked the same, but her eyes were much dimmer.

During the four years in Jiangnan, sometimes news came back only once every six months, sometimes even once a year.

The Empress Dowager said An Mianmian might betray them. He said she wouldn’t.

He had always believed that someone with bright, resolute eyes wouldn’t forget their original intention.

He nodded in agreement, opened his mouth, but said nothing else.

Song Yuhe was half-leaning against the wall, as if he weren’t in a prison cell but in the courtyard of the prince’s mansion, composed and calm.

An Mianmian had to admit that Song Yuhe’s innate noble bearing was something others couldn’t learn even if they tried.

Hearing her arrival, Song Yuhe showed a moment of surprise: “Come, Mianmian, come sit here.”

An Mianmian entered the cell, followed by a young eunuch carrying poisoned wine. After setting it down, he left without raising his head. Song Yuhe looked down and smiled: “Song Rongfeng agreed to let you come…”

“I insisted on coming.” An Mianmian interrupted him.

Song Yuhe was stunned for a moment, then smiled again: “Quite clever.”

He didn’t know what this “clever” referred to.

“His Majesty doesn’t want to kill you. Fratricide would be shameful,” An Mianmian sat across from Song Yuhe, looking at the wine cup on the table. “This wine – I asked for it.”

“Publicly, Your Highness has killed countless people, public resentment runs deep, and attempting rebellion is a treasonous crime. Privately, Your Highness killed my entire family, and I need to give them an explanation.”

An Mianmian picked up the wine cup and filled it, but a few drops spilled outside.

There was another reason – Song Yuhe had always been proud and wouldn’t live in degradation. If he lost power and returned to the prince’s mansion, that journey would be more painful than killing him.

An Mianmian didn’t want to see him so humiliated.

“I entered the palace at five. Consort Shu held me and said she could still speak for me in the palace. If I were good, when I came of age, she’d find me a good family to marry into. I asked her if Father had treacherous intentions. She shook her head and told me my mother was an upright person with good judgment – someone she chose would never do such things. I asked her again if we shouldn’t seek revenge. She covered my mouth and told me to forget about it.”

A tear fell to the ground and instantly disappeared: “Consort Shu told me that Prince Zhen was the Empress Dowager’s biological son, the Emperor’s biological brother, imperial family – untouchable. But the dead were also my birth parents. Over seventy lives, and with one phrase, ‘imperial family,’ it was all over. I didn’t understand as a child, only heard people say that if I got revenge, they could come back. I stayed in Consort Shu’s palace for three years. Seeing that I wouldn’t give up, she sent me away and arranged for me to live in an uninhabited palace. She said no one would dare help me on the path of revenge – I could only rely on myself. I investigated all of Your Highness’s life, spending six years to understand you.”

“What do you know?” Song Yuhe turned to look at her.

“Everything.”

The Empress Dowager had originally been just a Noble Consort. To bring down the Empress of that time, she had someone bring abortion medicine from outside the palace. At that time, she was already six months pregnant with Song Yuhe. To become Empress, she was willing to kill her flesh and blood. But Song Yuhe survived, though the medicine left him naturally weak and plagued by illness.

In the five years after giving birth to Song Yuhe, perhaps busy competing with the Empress for power, or perhaps too ashamed to face him, the Empress Dowager was indifferent to him, neither cold nor warm.

Princess Ruoyi of that time was the Empress’s only daughter, the same age as him. In the palace, there were only the two children. Ruoyi was naturally lively and simple-natured, but loved to cry.

Even though the Noble Consort and Empress fought irreconcilably, Ruoyi still called him “Imperial Brother” at every turn.

Song Yuhe didn’t want to pay attention to her, but she followed him everywhere like a little tail.

Finally, one day, unable to bear it, Song Yuhe asked her if she knew their mothers were mortal enemies in the palace – others would avoid suspicion, but not her.

But Ruoyi immediately burst into tears of grievance, saying: “But I’m your sister!”

Just this one sentence made Song Yuhe unable to lose his temper.

Over the following years, their relationship gradually improved, but the Empress fell from power, Ruoyi was poisoned, and Fengxi Palace was sealed.

What could save her was the Blood Resolve Pill in the late Emperor’s possession. When he went to ask for it, the Emperor flew into a rage and confined him to the palace.

Song Yuhe defied the edict and rushed in to see Ruoyi. Her originally rosy cheeks were frighteningly gaunt. Seeing him come, she smiled and said, “I knew Imperial Brother would come. In the next life, Ruoyi still wants to be your sister. Then you must dote on me from the beginning.”

That little princess who loved to cry never shed a single tear until her death.

Some things An Mianmian couldn’t know completely – she could only glimpse fragments through others’ accounts and historical records.

Hope for revenge was slim, and she had been waiting in the palace all along.

Finally, an opportunity came. She intercepted the Empress Dowager strolling in the imperial garden and volunteered to go to Zhen Prince’s Mansion as a spy. Whether she succeeded or not, she had no regrets.

Before leaving, she asked the Empress Dowager: “Do I resemble Princess Ruoyi?”

The Empress Dowager was somewhat annoyed, but she was happy.

She did resemble her. The Empress Dowager thought so, and Song Yuhe would think so too.

She didn’t need to be identical – she just needed to grasp the right degree. No one was invulnerable, and Ruoyi was Song Yuhe’s only kindness in the palace.

So she gambled that Song Yuhe wouldn’t kill her.

An Mianmian talked on and on about many things – childhood anecdotes, loneliness in the palace, caution after coming to the prince’s mansion. When her mouth was dry, she picked up his teacup and took a sip, her tone flat as if she were telling stories to a friend: “The people of Jiangnan lived in fear, but I didn’t. Apart from being afraid of being discovered by Your Highness, I was quite happy the rest of the time. I could feel Your Highness’s kindness to me.”

An Mianmian had gambled twice in total.

Before the Empress Dowager sent her out of the palace, she warned her that Song Yuhe didn’t like people crying – tears were the most useless thing to him. But An Mianmian thought the opposite.

The colder a person’s heart, the more they could be melted by tears. So she gambled, betting that if she cried like Princess Ruoyi in front of Song Yuhe, he would soften.

When Song Yuhe gripped her throat but finally let go, An Mianmian knew she had won the bet.

The deeper a person’s schemes, the more they liked pure hearts, just like Song Yuhe.

An Mianmian wasn’t stupid – she was just preserving purity. Being both intelligent and pure was exactly what most attracted Song Yuhe.

He had always been proud, thinking he wouldn’t fall for An Mianmian, and even if he did, he wouldn’t disrupt his plans for her.

So An Mianmian gambled a second time.

With her own life, she bet that Song Yuhe would return to the capital. Once the Blood Resolve Pill lost its effect, only the sole Blood Bright Pill left by the late Emperor to His Majesty could save her.

If she lost the bet, it didn’t matter. The hairpin contained all of Song Yuhe’s military deployments in Jiangnan and nearly half of the nation’s secret guard organizations.

Giving these to the Emperor would be enough to cut off most of Song Yuhe’s influence, making him unable to threaten imperial power for at least ten years.

When Song Yuhe’s carriage appeared at the capital’s Zhen Prince’s Mansion, she knew she had won the second bet too.

Perhaps because of her, perhaps because of his pride – he had come after all.

But when she saw Song Yuhe in prison, she momentarily didn’t know whether to cry or laugh.

“In the palace, I hoped Your Highness would have a relapse of your chronic illness. I thought about when lightning might strike you dead.” At this point, An Mianmian laughed herself, but tears fell as she laughed. Without saying anything more, she got up to leave.

“Mianmian.” Song Yuhe called to her.

“From now on, no matter what happens, live well. Be worthy of this Blood Bright Pill.”

An Mianmian stopped, stood with her back to him for a long time, and finally left without saying a word.

“In the next life, don’t meet me again.”

The eunuch reported that Prince Zhen had given him a stack of papers to pass to the Emperor.

Song Rongfeng opened it to find An Mianmian’s monthly medications, symptoms, and dietary restrictions from the past four years.

Every word and sentence, detailed and meticulous.

“He also seemed to say something about Manjiexiang’s mung bean cakes. This servant didn’t hear clearly, and His Highness just said ‘never mind’ and told me to leave.”

The young eunuch was full of confusion. Could these mung bean cakes be so delicious that someone would remember them even at death?

“Your Majesty, should we tell Miss Bai?” the young eunuch asked.

“No need.”

Song Rongfeng went to find An Mianmian to play chess again. She was napping at the time, so he didn’t have anyone wake her but waited until she woke up herself.

The chess game on the table was at a stalemate. An Mianmian approached to look and asked: “What about what Your Majesty promised me?”

Song Rongfeng’s hand paused, as if considering how to tell her.

“Secret agents discovered that Lord Bai had many letters exchanged with neighboring countries.”

He spoke euphemistically, but An Mianmian understood. Her eyelashes trembled, and she was stunned for a while, her voice somewhat broken: “Could… could someone have… forged… forged my father’s handwriting? Consort Shu said my mother was an upright person who wouldn’t misjudge people.”

Song Rongfeng said nothing. He must have investigated thoroughly before telling her.

Just as he was about to reach out to comfort her, he saw her slowly kneel before him again.

A deep kowtow: “The criminal’s daughter, Bai Sang Yu…”

But she couldn’t say the next words.

Tears the size of beans fell drop by drop. An Mianmian instinctively wanted to wipe them away with her sleeve, then suddenly realized she didn’t need to hold back anymore.

So Song Yuhe’s final words about living well no matter what happened were about this.

So Song Yuhe had known all along that her father had indeed betrayed the country.

Only she had been determined to avenge her father and clear the Bai family’s name.

It had been a joke from the beginning.

A tremendous joke.

Yet Song Yuhe never told her until his death.

His promise that “this prince will protect you” – he had truly kept it.