When I was young, I once suspected whether Father Emperor had visited Shaolin Temple, which would explain how he could be so deranged as to renovate his study into a scripture repository.

What I’m trying to express is—searching for historical records in Father Emperor’s study is an extremely painful endeavor.

Most heartbreaking of all is that besides Father Emperor, only the Crown Prince and I are allowed to enter.

So after he finished reviewing five stacks of memorials, I decisively called him to share in this suffering.

The Crown Prince, sporting two dark circles under his eyes, helped me move two bundles of documents and sat in the wide chair carved with purple wisteria and tigers, asking me: “Imperial Sister, what exactly do you want to know?”

I sat cross-legged on the floor, browsing while asking: “When did you learn that Song Langsheng is the son of the former dynasty’s rebel Jun Jinzhi?”

The Crown Prince recalled for a moment, “Less than a year after you two were married.”

“How did you find out?”

“I couldn’t understand why someone of his caliber wouldn’t enter court through the imperial examinations, so I had someone investigate. We dug it out from Grand Court of Review Deputy He Yun.”

“Exactly.” I looked at him. “So don’t you find it strange?”

The Crown Prince looked back at me, “What’s strange about it?”

“If even you could think of this, how could Father Emperor not have thought of it?”

The Crown Prince was pleased, “Are you trying to praise this Crown Prince for surpassing his master?”

“Please don’t misinterpret my meaning.” I corrected. “Father Emperor knew long ago, and before us.”

I handed him the case file in my hands, which recorded the connections between Jun Jinzhi and Song Langsheng.

After reading it, the Crown Prince was stunned and couldn’t help looking up: “If that’s the case, how could Father Emperor have allowed you two to marry?”

I shook my head.

“No, wait, what marriage? How could Father Emperor have let him live peacefully? Unless Father Emperor felt the Prince Consort truly cares for you…”

“…That possibility doesn’t even reach the level of minuscule…”

“…That’s true too.”

I stood up, picked up the yellow jade brush from the desk, and randomly drew circles on paper: “I went to the Ministry of Justice today to review that case from years past. No matter how I think about it, I can’t understand why Qin Song back then would want to rebel? Even if there were still many people loyal to the former dynasty among the common folk, Qin Song actively surrendered to Father Emperor. Who would serve someone who betrays his master for glory as emperor?”

The Crown Prince nodded repeatedly: “Moreover, at such an advanced age with no sons under his knee, even if he had succeeded by chance, wouldn’t he still have to support someone else…”

My brush movements paused. “What did you just say?”

Seeing my sudden question, the Crown Prince was taken aback: “I said… if he had succeeded, wouldn’t he still have to support someone else as emperor…”

A thousand thoughts flew and surged through my mind, but the Crown Prince’s words awakened me like a thunderclap.

I asked the Crown Prince: “How many princes and grandsons did the former dynasty’s Emperor Hui have?”

“Two princes and three grandsons…” The Crown Prince played with the jade carving on the desk, blinking: “Father Emperor killed them all.”

“What about the harem?”

“Burned clean in one fire, not a single soul left alive.” The Crown Prince frowned with some reluctance: “Such a tyrant…”

“Very good,” I glanced sideways and beckoned with my finger: “You go find me the former dynasty’s imperial genealogy…”

“…Would Father Emperor keep such a thing here?”

“Generally speaking, don’t tyrants have this kind of hobby after exterminating families?”

“…”

The former dynasty had nine princes with imperial bloodline.

Two died of illness, the other six all died on battlefields fighting Father Emperor’s armies.

Except for one who slipped through the net—Emperor Hui’s younger brother Prince Duan, who years earlier had perhaps offended Emperor Hui due to his overwhelming achievements and was sent to the south. After the dynasty changed hands, his whereabouts became unknown.

The Crown Prince and I knelt together beside the desk looking at the genealogy. All the names on it were circled in red ink—needless to say, naturally drawn by Father Emperor.

The Crown Prince said: “This Prince Duan has always had a virtuous reputation. If Emperor Hui had made good use of him back then, he wouldn’t have fallen to such a state. But he’s also circled in red, so he’s probably already dead…”

I pointed at Prince Duan’s name: “Don’t you think this red circle differs from the others in both thickness and depth?”

The Crown Prince leaned in to examine it closely: “It seems… added afterward.”

I said with certainty: “In other words, this Prince Duan died later. But since our dynasty was established, have you ever heard Father Emperor mention anything about the former dynasty’s Prince Duan?”

“The great hidden hide in the marketplace…” The Crown Prince stroked his chin: “If this Prince Duan died in Qin Song and their rebellion case, then among those people back then, which one actually was…” He stopped mid-sentence.

The Crown Prince suddenly raised his head, and we stared at each other in surprise, saying in unison: “Jun Jinzhi!”

I was so shocked by this possibility that my spine went cold—the Prince Consort is former dynasty royalty?

The Crown Prince’s face paled, then he reacted: “Impossible. If that were truly the case, Father Emperor would have eliminated Song Langsheng root and branch eight hundred years ago. How could he have allowed him to become your Prince Consort?”

That’s true too.

If Jun Jinzhi were truly Prince Duan, Father Emperor would not find it surprising to use divine martial cannons to blast him to ash, so how could he have let him escape overnight?

Seeing my alarmed state, the Crown Prince comforted me: “That Jun Jinzhi was probably just a minor figure accidentally involved. I think you’re overthinking it. Imperial Sister, you and the Prince Consort haven’t had peace since your wedding. Do you know that when you disappeared, he nearly fell ill with lovesickness? Every night after leaving the Grand Court of Review, he would walk several streets counting lanterns. I couldn’t bear it and wanted to have them taken down, but he turned red with anger and wanted to argue with me. Sigh, sister, someone like him could get angry over broken lanterns—you can imagine how deeply he cares for you.”

Hearing such things for the first time, an indescribable feeling spread through my heart. I asked: “Do you happen to know what I meant by hanging so many lanterns back then?”

The Crown Prince shook his head repeatedly: “Maybe you and the Prince Consort were quarreling too fiercely at the time, so you wanted to make him happy…”

Before he finished speaking, I raised my hand: “Stop! What do you mean we were quarreling fiercely? We quarreled?”

The Crown Prince looked at me sideways: “When did you two not quarrel?”

“No, you might be mistaken…” I said: “Although our initial interactions weren’t very harmonious, later on—you found a Forgetfulness Powder to threaten Song Langsheng into giving it to me. Do you still remember this…”

The Crown Prince nodded.

“Later when it was discovered, I ran away from home in anger…”

The Crown Prince nodded again.

“I wandered for a while, encountered natural disasters, injured my leg, was persecuted by people, trapped in Chen Family Village, and nearly burned to death. Do you remember…”

The Crown Prince put on an expression of listening very seriously to me: “So what?”

I slapped the desk: “So how could we have quarreled?!”

The Crown Prince stared at me blankly and bewildered, spreading his hands: “Forgive this younger brother’s dullness. I don’t seem to understand the causal relationship between these two things…”

I immediately rolled my eyes: “Previously we weren’t harmonious because I didn’t understand his feelings for me, and he wouldn’t admit his feelings for me. But after he risked his life to save me that time, we had already confessed our hearts to each other… After going through hardships and narrow escapes from death, shouldn’t our reunion have been loving, sweet, and inseparable…”

The Crown Prince glanced at me: “…Incompatible personalities?”

Me: “…”

“Actually, when you first returned, you were indeed tender and loving. Even during morning court you would exchange meaningful glances…” The Crown Prince lazily leaned against the chair back, placing his hands on the hand warmer to rub them: “But later somehow, the Prince Consort returned to his indifferent attitude toward you, and you also stopped trying to please him as you used to…”

“Why?”

“How would I know?” The Crown Prince thought for a moment, then sighed again: “I still remember that a few days before Imperial Sister disappeared, Father Emperor summoned the Prince Consort alone to the sleeping palace. I don’t know what he said that offended Father Emperor. It seemed he wanted the Prince Consort to do something, but the Prince Consort refused unto death. At that time, heavy rain fell from heaven. Father Emperor, in his anger, ordered him to kneel outside the sleeping palace until he agreed. So the Prince Consort lifted his robes without a word and knelt there, from the hour of wei until the hour of shen, until Imperial Sister you rushed into the palace to plead with Father Emperor.”

“Then what?”

“Father Emperor rarely didn’t accept your plea. You were also stubborn, so you turned around and knelt together with the Prince Consort, getting rained on together.”

I was moved by my own deep devotion.

So did we reconcile because of this?

“What happened next?”

“Then you both knelt from shen hour to you hour, from you hour to xu hour. During this time, the rain actually never stopped…”

“…During this time, may I ask what you were doing?”

The Crown Prince said matter-of-factly: “Keeping time for you two, and observing the weather.”

“…” Indeed, am I too high in position and power?

The Crown Prince added charcoal to the brazier: “In the end, Father Emperor softened his heart and let you both get out and return home for self-reflection… You were overjoyed helping him up, but he shook you off and left, leaving you alone crouching in the rain crying…”

I was stunned.

Song Langsheng… abandoned me, who had accompanied him in the rain, and left alone?

Listening to the Crown Prince’s light narration, even though I couldn’t remember anything, that feeling was truly uncomfortable.

But why had Song Langsheng never mentioned this?

After that, whatever the Crown Prince said about court affairs, I couldn’t listen.

Until I sat in the sedan chair returning home, my ears still echoed repeatedly with the Crown Prince’s words “leaving you alone crouching in the rain crying.” The more I thought about it, the more I felt something was missing from my heart, not knowing how to fill it.

Thunder rumbled with a “boom boom boom,” and in an instant heavy rain poured down. The sedan bearers asked if I still wanted to continue forward. I lifted the curtain and saw the fierce rain, and there happened to be a small pavilion nearby, so I took an umbrella and first took shelter in the pavilion to wait out this downpour.

The pavilion was empty. I leaned against the long bench, woodenly watching the rain curtain, as if it brought me back to another rainy night.

That night’s rain was even heavier than now. I held him tightly: “I don’t know why you’re acting this way, and I don’t understand why we’ve come to this point, but since we said we’d live and die together…”

But I heard him say as he pulled away from my hand—

“Those words were always spoken by the Princess. I never said them.”

Only this fragment of broken memory remained. No matter how hard I tried to recall, I couldn’t remember more.

Though I couldn’t remember the context of Song Langsheng’s words, I remembered the overwhelming sadness I felt upon hearing them. I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, letting the slanting rain splash on my face and slide into my clothes.

I don’t know how long passed before I no longer felt the coldness on my face. Opening my eyes, I discovered a sleeve blocking my view, shielding me from the attacking raindrops.

The clear breeze carried the wide sleeve elegantly. I turned my head to look at the sleeve’s owner.

Under the night sky, those deep eyes reflected my own image.

“Nie Ran, how did you come to be here?”

He looked at me quietly and said: “Taking shelter from rain.”

Only then did I notice he had no umbrella in his hands. His clothes had caught quite a bit of rain, but he didn’t look disheveled. In contrast, my swollen eyes must have been quite unsightly. I avoided his gaze: “This kind of rain should stop quickly.”

After these words fell, we sank into long silence.

Just when I thought we would sit like this until the rain stopped, his cool voice sounded in my ear: “I apologize.”

I didn’t understand: “Apologize for what?”

“For not knowing you are the real Princess Xiangyi.”

“Oh.” I stretched out my hand to let raindrops fall into my palm with pitter-patter sounds: “I haven’t taken this matter to heart.”

“Why do you never explain?”

I said: “What difference does explaining or not explaining make?”

Nie Ran said slowly: “If you were a false princess, then the Prince Consort might just be someone manipulating you. But if you’re real, then he is your husband…”

I was baffled: “What does that have to do with Lord Nie?”

Nie Ran lowered his eyes: “Since the Princess already has someone in her heart, then why did you back then…”

“Didn’t I lose all my memories at that time?” I was somewhat impatient and turned to look at him: “Director Nie brought everyone from the entire village to the capital. Don’t tell me you didn’t know?”

He finally changed his expression: “The Princess means that if you had recovered your memories, even during your time in Chen Family Village, you would have left?”

My heart felt somewhat adrift.

This “what if” question—Wei Qingheng had asked me, Song Langsheng had asked me, and now even Nie Ran was asking.

Back then, did He Feng like Xu Fang more or Song Langsheng more…

“What does this question have to do with Director Nie?” I stared at him unblinkingly: “The person in this world who should most ask me this question is Xu Fang, but he’s no longer here. If he were still here, he wouldn’t ask me such a question to make me dilemma. Even if I wanted to leave, he would…”

He would let go, as long as I was well.

That’s how Xu Fang answered me back then.

He Feng, who lacked confidence and security, always liked to ask many hypothetical questions to make things difficult for Xu Fang.

What if you were a demonic sect leader, what if you were a martial arts alliance leader, what if you had someone you liked, what if you had children and grandchildren.

Later one day, when they were both lying on a small hillside watching the sunset, He Feng suddenly asked Xu Fang: “If one day my memory recovered and I remembered having someone I loved very much waiting for me to return, what would you do?”

Xu Fang rarely failed to mock her as usual. He was silent for a long time before saying softly: “I would let go, as long as you were well.”

Unfortunately, He Feng at that time wasn’t satisfied with such an answer. On the contrary, she thought he didn’t care about her. She huffed angrily, got up and ran. After running just a few steps, she heard the rumbling of thunder rolling through the clouds above. She had always been afraid of lightning, and remembering she was standing at the highest point of the village, she quickly covered her ears, momentarily not knowing what to do in her fear.

When lightning split the sky, someone covered her eyes with their palm and pulled her around into an embrace.

I don’t know why I suddenly remembered this scene from the past.

Was it because Song Langsheng confused my heart, or because Nie Ran angered me?

Seeing me stop mid-sentence, Nie Ran asked: “What would he do?”

I didn’t answer him. Seeing the sky clear of rain, I flicked the rainwater from my sleeves: “I should go. Lord Nie should also return early to rest.”

Just as I was about to step out of the pavilion, brilliant blue light flashed swiftly past. Lightning struck down like a sharp sword, and thunder crashed with tremendous force!

Before I could react, I felt my eyes covered by warm palms, and a gentle force on my arm brought me lightly into an embrace.

Standing so close, overlapping with a distant past as remote as heaven.

Everything around became quiet for a moment. Even the sound of heavy rain falling to the ground couldn’t be heard clearly.

The sensation on my eyes was so familiar, familiar enough to make me almost forget to breathe.

I stood there in a daze, knowing this thought was too absurd.

“Who… are you?”

I pushed away his hands and looked up at him.

“Who exactly are you?”

His face still showed light clouds and gentle wind, but his eyes held deep, still waters. Just as he was about to speak, a cold voice rang out behind us: “Let her go!”

I turned around and looked toward the silent long street ahead. That patch of crimson official robes was so dazzling it was impossible to look directly at.

Song Langsheng was clearly holding an umbrella, but his whole body was soaked through. He stood there gloomily in the endless drizzle, repeating word by word: “Let her go!”

————————————Second Update!!!!!————————————

At this moment, Song Langsheng pressed his lips together. Under the dim sky light, that motionless posture was rather chilling.

I urgently wanted to break free from Nie Ran, but not only did he not let go, his grip on my arm tightened further. I looked up in surprise and saw what seemed like hesitation and confusion flash through Nie Ran’s eyes.

This fellow is usually as cold as a block of ice. What’s gotten into him now?

I was worrying about how to explain to Song Langsheng when I turned my head and saw a palm strike coming. With a bang, it landed on Nie Ran’s shoulder, forcing him back several steps and nearly making him crash into the pavilion pillar.

Everything happened in an instant. By the time Nie Ran steadied himself while covering his shoulder and staggering, Song Langsheng had already steadily embraced me in his arms. He looked coldly at Nie Ran and said: “If you dare be disrespectful to the Princess again, next time it won’t be just one palm.”

I was shocked. Song Langsheng actually couldn’t contain his anger?

I thought Nie Ran would say something like “This subordinate had no intention of offending the Princess,” but not only did he not explain, he even slightly curved his lips: “So Lord Song is no different from those crude, brawling ruffians of the martial world.”

Did I see wrong?

Nie Ran’s expression… rather than showing respect, it seemed more like… provocation?

His behavior undoubtedly added fuel to the fire in the Prince Consort’s eyes. But Song Langsheng did strike first, and that palm looked quite heavy—it would likely leave bruises. If he delivered a few more palms, with his martial arts skills, he might beat the man half to death. If Nie Ran went to the Ministry of Justice to file a complaint saying the Grand Court of Review Minister violated the law by assaulting a court official, that would be very bad indeed.

I quickly jumped between them, holding Song Langsheng’s hand to prevent him from being impulsive again: “Why did you hit someone?”

Song Langsheng’s face turned green: “I’m protecting you, and you’re blaming me instead?”

“Director Nie just saw me about to fall and helped steady me. You hurt someone without cause—who else should I blame if not you?”

Song Langsheng’s face suddenly turned black. Fortunately, he made no further moves, but with a fierce sweep of his sleeve, he strode back into the rain and walked away with large steps.

I glanced at Nie Ran and saw he was unharmed, then turned back to pick up the Bamboo Leaf Green umbrella Song Langsheng had thrown on the ground, and hurried after him.

The slanting rain fell in sheets. Song Langsheng walked very fast. I ran for quite a distance before catching up, only then realizing that even with an umbrella, if one walked urgently in the rain, the lower half of one’s clothing would inevitably get soaked through—just like Song Langsheng’s appearance when he first showed up.

The hand holding the umbrella handle trembled slightly.

He had come to fetch me. He hadn’t even had time to change out of his official robes, and seeing the fierce rain, couldn’t rest easy, so he ran all the way from home to find me.

The rain was heavier than before. I raised the umbrella in my hand, wanting to shield the Prince Consort from the rain. Song Langsheng ignored me, stepped outside the umbrella’s coverage, and walked ahead with swift strides.

I moved forward again to cover his head with the umbrella, but he simply leaned to the right, refusing to let me hold the umbrella for him, leaving me behind.

This was Song Langsheng—no matter what happened, what he left me was always that proud back.

An inexplicable soreness suddenly came over me.

I no longer tried to shield him from the rain, just maintained a distance of several steps, strolling through this endless misty rain.

When we reached the manor gates, Song Langsheng had no intention of acknowledging me. Only when he glimpsed me from the corner of his eye did he first freeze, then stride over to me and grip the hand holding the umbrella, straightening it: “Even holding an umbrella, you can get this soaked.”

I was sullen: “You won’t help me. The umbrella is so heavy I can only rest it on my shoulder.”

Song Langsheng blurted out: “If two people shared it, the Princess would only get wetter!”

Looking at Song Langsheng, already drenched and bedraggled by the rain, I murmured: “So the Prince Consort avoided walking with me because he was afraid I’d get rained on?”

Song Langsheng glared at me: “Because the Princess never stays properly at home.”

“I don’t.”

He snorted: “If I hadn’t spoken up just now, who knows what you two would have done.”

I said angrily: “What do you mean ‘what we would have done’? Don’t you even trust me?”

“I only know the Princess once risked her very life for that man called Xu Fang. When Zhao Yanran mentioned him, you didn’t even dare meet her eyes…” Song Langsheng awkwardly turned his head away: “Ordinarily, I have no way of knowing what you’re doing. When I can’t find you, I naturally worry. When I do find you, I see you in a pavilion crying sadly for someone else. Have you ever considered my feelings in this?”

“Song Langsheng, the one who made me cry sadly in that pavilion wasn’t someone else.”

He looked at me in confusion.

“It was you.” I said: “I remembered what you said to me that rainy night in front of Father Emperor’s sleeping palace.”

Song Langsheng’s whole body stiffened. I lowered my head and stepped on the puddle at my feet: “And your cold expression when you abandoned me there alone.”

“Princess, I…”

I didn’t dare look at him, just stepped on the water by myself: “From when I returned with memory loss, I asked you why you concealed what happened before my disappearance when you knew I would recover my memory. You said then that you were afraid I would leave you… In fact, when I remembered those moments, my heart was indeed very painful…”

I sighed: “But comparatively, what frightens me more is that when I feel confused and uneasy because of these memories, you’re not by my side to accompany me…”

Halfway through my words, he suddenly pulled me into his arms: “I’m sorry.”

His voice was so low it was frightening to think about. I said slowly: “Now that you’ve apologized, can you tell me the truth without any reservations?”

The arms holding me trembled. I looked up bewildered and happened to meet his deep eyes. After struggling several times, he ultimately lowered his eyelashes without speaking.

I had even said I would forgive unconditionally—what kind of heinous crime had he committed that he wouldn’t reveal even half of it to me?

The more I thought about it, the colder my heart became. Finally I simply pushed him away and said: “If we can’t even achieve the most basic trust, then what’s the point of being together!”

After saying this, I ran angrily back to the bedroom, slammed the door, extinguished the lamp, and buried myself completely in the brocade quilt on the bed, calculating in my heart that even if he used the pillow as an excuse again, I absolutely wouldn’t pay attention.

But after staying quiet for a long time, no one came to knock on the door.

I climbed up, wanting to push the door to see what was happening, but through the crack I glimpsed Song Langsheng’s dejected face, standing quietly in front of the door, his eyes seeming to carry some tremendously heavy burden.

Though only separated by a thin door, at this moment we seemed thousands of miles apart.

I lowered my eyelids, thinking of that lost letter, thinking that I myself hadn’t been entirely honest either, and suddenly felt somewhat disheartened.

After that night, I didn’t speak to Song Langsheng for several days.

Usually during cold wars, it was mostly me who had offended him, and in the end I was always the one who couldn’t bear it, only reconciling when I took the initiative to coax him.

This time I was particularly stubborn. Whether at the manor or at court, I treated him as if he were invisible. Even when he took the initiative to speak to me, I barely acknowledged him.

With this back and forth, the Prince Consort was also displeased and began competing with me in “taking detours to avoid each other.”

Such childish behavior was so ridiculous that even my shadow guards couldn’t stand it. A’You hung upside down from the roof beam and asked me: “Isn’t the Princess afraid that Cai Mi will take advantage to stir up trouble?”

I carefully examined the map of the capital that A’You had drawn for me: “If she could stir up trouble, that would be perfect.”

As a fellow woman, A’You found my thinking completely incomprehensible.

I twirled my writing brush: “For the past few days, A’Zuo has been watching Cai Mi day and night. Except for going to the pharmacy in the south of the city every other day to buy medicine, she’s hardly gone anywhere. We’ve also investigated the pharmacy—the prescriptions are all written by Zhou Wenyu and there’s nothing wrong with them. Cai Mi obviously was instructed to approach the Princess Manor, but besides occasionally trying to curry favor, she’s done almost nothing—it’s truly unusual. Enemies who don’t move are the hardest to deal with. Rather than this deceptive calm, it would be better to have some disturbance so we can strategize countermeasures.”

A’You agreed and nodded: “However, this subordinate has searched all dog training establishments within a hundred li radius, and compared the files of all major assassin organizations, but still haven’t found relevant clues. All places in the capital that have planted plum blossoms are either noble manors or elegant establishments—none seem like they would cultivate assassins…”

Before she finished speaking, someone jumped in from outside the window with a “smack.” A’You nearly mistook them for an assassin and was about to strike, but seeing it was A’Zuo, her whole face turned green: “Can you knock on the window before entering? What if the Princess were bathing and changing clothes?”

A’Zuo arrived dusty and travel-worn, still catching his breath: “Would the Princess bathe and change in the study?”

Before these two shadow guards could start bickering again, I put my hand between them: “How did following Cai Mi go?”

A’Zuo said: “Same as usual. After buying medicine at the south city pharmacy, she went straight back. She’s currently brewing medicine—nothing suspicious can be seen.”

A’You looked disdainful: “It’s just following one weak woman. How did it end up like fighting seven or eight battles?”

A’Zuo said dissatisfied: “She walked from East Zhou Street to Tongji Street then to Rulin Lane. Along this route there are few people, few stalls, few trees—no places to hide. I could only follow from far away without losing her. Why don’t you try it next time?”

I glanced at the capital’s topographical map, feeling something was wrong with the route A’Zuo described: “To get to the pharmacy, you just go south along Xian Ge Street by the moat. Why take such a roundabout way through Tongji Street?”

A’Zuo frowned hesitantly: “Maybe… she’s not very familiar with the capital’s roads?”

Cai Mi was born and raised in the capital—how could she be unfamiliar with the roads?

A’You nimbly stood up: “This subordinate will immediately investigate what’s unusual about Tongji Street.”

“No need.” I took up my brush and circled a certain place on Xian Ge Street on the sheepskin map: “What we should investigate is here.”

A’Zuo and A’You both leaned in: “Inviting Moon Tower?”

I narrowed my eyes: “Roads that can be taken won’t be problematic—those deliberately avoided are suspicious.”

The most conspicuous thing on Xian Ge Street was undoubtedly Inviting Moon Tower, which literary scholars flocked to. From the map A’You had prepared showing capital manors with plum blossoms, Inviting Moon Tower’s courtyards, large and small, were full of red plum trees.

When coincidences overlap, why not make an assumption? If the assassins who ambushed Song Langsheng came from Inviting Moon Tower, then Cai Mi’s taking the long way around was very likely to avoid being recognized.

But logically, if they were on the same side, what would it matter if she were recognized?

After A’Zuo and A’You each received their orders and left, I scratched my head and paced around the room. I knew I should give up baseless speculation at the right time, but thinking of that lost letter always gave me a bad feeling.

I wondered whether I should tidy up the study to see if there were any overlooked details.

So I spent this entire morning practically lifting up the floorboards, but regrettably it was still fruitless.

By noon I was exhausted from rummaging around. When I stood up after crouching for too long, I got dizzy and knocked my forehead hard against the sandalwood cabinet, causing a crash as something fell from the cabinet top to the floor.

When I steadied myself, I saw it was a jade flute.

This jade flute was exactly the one I had bought for Xu Fang in Chen Family Village. Half a year ago when I reunited with Nie Ran at the Imperial Academy, he had returned the jade flute to me. In a blink it had been another half year. Now holding this flute again, remembering how I had saved copper by copper to buy it, I couldn’t help sighing deeply.

I rubbed my eyes.

Fortunately, A’You returned at just the right time. When she appeared, her face showed barely contained excitement. Once the door closed, she said: “The Princess’s foresight is divine—Inviting Moon Tower indeed has secrets.”

My spirits lifted: “Tell me about it.”

A’You said: “Inviting Moon Tower began five years ago, while the pursuit case the Princess is investigating was seven years ago. At first hearing there seems no connection. However, before Inviting Moon Tower was built, that place was originally an escort agency called Shangwei.”

“Shangwei Escort Agency?” I pondered briefly: “This name sounds familiar… Wasn’t it the one that was massacred overnight many years ago?”

“Exactly.”

The Shangwei Escort Agency massacre should have shocked the capital at the time, but then I was busy grieving over Big Brother’s departure without farewell…

I suddenly realized: “Shangwei Escort Agency was massacred after the pursuit case happened… But who would open a wine house in a place where so many people died?”

A’You said: “The owner of Inviting Moon Tower is precisely the only survivor of Shangwei Escort Agency from back then—the escort chief’s daughter, Wu Pingting.”

Wu Pingting’s name was indeed thunderous. She was rumored to be the capital’s first beauty in recent years—though who knows who gave her that title. The key point was that those who had seen her appearance could be counted on one hand. Besides hearing that her musical skills were superb and rare in the world, everything else was a mystery.

A’You handed me a package: “When A’Zuo infiltrated Inviting Moon Tower, he discovered two dogs in the back courtyard. He even got scratched by the dogs trying to steal dog food… Well, this is the dog food.”

I picked it up and smelled it: “Dried meat cooked with plum blossom petals?”

“The Princess said that dogs like to smell familiar things, and so do people. The dogs might not be the same ones, but feeding habits don’t change easily.”

If the dried meat in Cai Mi’s hand back then was given by Wu Pingting, then those who pursued Song Langsheng and Jun Jinzhi should have been from Shangwei Escort Agency… No, to be precise, someone instructed them to pursue and kill, then crossed the bridge after using them, silencing them through massacre.

Looking at it this way, Cai Mi’s reason for not wanting her whereabouts discovered made sense. If Wu Pingting discovered she was still alive, she would surely pursue relentlessly, determined to find that behind-the-scenes manipulator for revenge.

But what I couldn’t understand was why they didn’t kill Wu Pingting along with the rest during the massacre. Not eliminating the roots when cutting grass—this mastermind’s thinking was truly strange. And Wu Pingting—shouldn’t someone who escaped death hide and seek another way out? Building a song and dance hall so brazenly in the original location, not even changing her name, and becoming the capital’s first beauty—no matter how you looked at it, it seemed like luring enemies to kill herself.

Amitabha, there were too many incomprehensible mysteries. If this continued, my skull might explode.

I sighed deeply: “It seems I need to personally meet this Wu Pingting.”

A’You said: “Every sixteenth of the month, she personally performs on stage at Inviting Moon Tower.”

I was greatly puzzled: “Performs on stage?”

“She plays a piece behind a curtain. If someone can harmonize with flute music, they have the honor of drinking fine wine alone with Wu Pingting.” A’You pondered: “Over the years, the romantic scholars who have come cannot be said to be few, but those who can match her music are very rare.”

Inviting Moon Tower was a song and dance tavern—essentially an ordinary tavern with beautiful women singing and dancing for entertainment. There were about ten such taverns, large and small, in the capital, nothing particularly unique about them.

But she first elevated herself to the position of first beauty, then used this half-concealed method to attract customers. This Wu Pingting was actually a business genius—if she weren’t burdened with deep vengeance.

I sighed again. Such a person, even using princess authority to pressure her, might not obediently comply, let alone inquire about the truth from years past.

I asked A’You: “Can you play the flute?”

A’You shook her head awkwardly.

“What about A’Zuo?”

“…He can’t even blow a trumpet.” She looked up at the sky: “If the Princess wants to find someone skilled with the flute, couldn’t you just go to a music house…”

“There’s no time—today is already the sixteenth. Moreover, those in the capital who would join such festivities have probably already been there.”

I looked down at the jade flute in my hands. Bright orange sunlight streamed through the window, making the jade flute translucent and bright green. Somehow the scene from a few nights ago when Nie Ran and Xu Fang overlapped flickered before my eyes.

Among the people I knew, he was the only one who could play the flute to perfection.

However, not to mention that Nie Ran, as Imperial Academy Director, might not be willing to show his face in such a pleasure quarter, just thinking about Song Langsheng finding out made me feel somewhat apprehensive.

But currently Wu Pingting was the only breakthrough for investigating the truth from years past. If we missed this opportunity, we might be caught off guard when danger arrived.

On this sweltering noon, after an internal struggle in the study, I ultimately took the jade flute and went to the Imperial Academy.

Before coming, I had already changed into a blue shirt and brocade robe, calculated the time for his class dismissal, and waited by the side door of Respect One Pavilion.

So when Nie Ran saw me from afar, he was completely stunned. He looked me up and down in surprise: “Princess?”

I smiled lightly: “It’s not the first time you’ve seen me disguised as a man. Can’t you still recognize me?”

Under the tree shade, Nie Ran gently curved his lips and gazed at me: “Since the Princess has come in disguise, this subordinate won’t perform the great ceremony.”

I nodded, first asking: “Um, is the shoulder injury healed? Last time the Prince Consort misunderstood. Please forgive him, Director Nie.”

Nie Ran said: “It was nothing serious to begin with. The Prince Consort cares for the Princess—I didn’t take it to heart.”

I smiled with relief: “That’s good. Since Lord Nie is unharmed, raising an arm to play a flute shouldn’t be difficult, should it?”

Nie Ran: “?”

I extended the jade flute I’d been hiding behind my back to him and said concisely: “Ahem, it’s like this. You know about Wu Pingting, the capital’s first beauty, right? I have something I want to discuss with her privately, but Inviting Moon Tower’s rule is that someone must match her musical tones to meet her. With no other solution, I thought of Director Nie.”

Nie Ran’s refined eyebrows moved, and he said in an unfathomable tone: “So the Princess sought me for this matter. I thought…”

Seeing him speak halfway, I asked puzzled: “Thought what?”

Nie Ran shook his head and only said: “This subordinate has heard of Inviting Moon Tower’s ‘musical harmony brings beauty’ saying, but that Wu Pingting’s piece has moved the capital with no one able to match it. This subordinate’s musical skills are crude—I’m afraid I can’t help the Princess make introductions…”

I instinctively cut off his words: “Your skills are fine.”

Just as the words fell, Nie Ran froze, and I froze too, only then realizing these words were too familiar. I hurriedly remedied: “What this Princess means is that Director Nie should have more confidence in himself, um… Moreover, even if the introduction fails, it doesn’t matter. I’ll think of other methods.”

Nie Ran looked down quietly at the flute for a while. Just when I thought he would politely decline, he took my flute and said lightly: “Very well.”

I looked up in surprise.

He said: “Please wait a moment, Princess. Let this subordinate change into plain clothes and accompany the Princess.”

He agreed so readily that it left me somewhat at a loss.

Xian Ge Street wasn’t too far from the Imperial Academy. To avoid being recognized by the Princess Manor’s carriages, I originally wanted to suggest walking, but just as we left the Imperial Academy, I saw a carriage stopped in front. The carriage was quite elaborate, with gold-painted shafts and a pearl embedded in the top cover. Nie Ran gestured for me to board. I laughed: “Actually, taking a walk for exercise would be excellent.”

Nie Ran said flatly: “If we’re late, we might lose the qualification to compete musically.”

“…That’s true too.”

I had no choice but to board the carriage, thinking that riding so conspicuously in Nie Ran’s carriage to Inviting Moon Tower—if the Prince Consort really encountered us, our married life would probably end there.

But worldly affairs are often like this—the more you don’t want something to happen, the more it will happen.

When we reached Inviting Moon Tower and I lifted the carriage curtain, seeing the evening colors filling the capital with time still early, I thought why not walk around the area to see if I could catch any clues.

Unexpectedly, just as I jumped down from the carriage, I saw a red figure riding from the distant road, that graceful bearing like the blazing sun—who else could it be but Song Langsheng?

I suddenly felt dizzy and confused, thinking of a hundred explanations and excuses in an instant. Looking carefully, Song Langsheng’s expression was quite anxious at this moment, his sharp gaze looking left and right. I quickly lowered my head and turned away, feeling horse hooves thundering past behind me. When I turned back, he had already galloped far away.

Nie Ran had also gotten out of the carriage at this time. Following my gaze, he also looked back: “Lord Song seems to be looking for someone.”

I turned my head: “Mm… probably handling official business…”

At this time, music came from inside Inviting Moon Tower—orchestral music playing together, the evening banquet had begun.

Nie Ran said: “Let’s go.”

I nodded, opened my fan, and the two of us entered one after another.

Before entering the tower, I couldn’t help looking back again, gazing into the bustling crowd, thinking in my heart that I should finish business early and return to the manor to have dinner with the Prince Consort.

Later, from that time onward, for a very long time when I recalled that moment of passing by each other, I would ask myself: if I hadn’t hidden from him then, or if he had spotted me in the crowd, would everything have turned out differently?

Perhaps from those chaotic and prosperous beginnings, fate had already determined the later ending of music finishing and people parting.