I once thought Inviting Moon Tower was no different from ordinary wine houses, but upon entering I discovered the building was spacious and bright, with gallery-style railings spiraling upward level by level. Though it lacked some decadent charm, it possessed a different kind of grand elegance.

The second and third floors were all private rooms, separated by screens with different embroidered patterns. Looking around, silhouettes could be seen among the seats—presumably distinguished guests drawn by reputation had already taken their places waiting for the show.

Beside the stage built of white jade stone were two seating areas. One was hung with layers of gauze curtains, behind which a qin could be vaguely seen, while the sandalwood table directly opposite had already been set with tea, snacks, and bronze incense burners—precisely the seating arranged for the musical challenger.

Before coming, I naturally had other challengers cleared away, so upon seeing us, the tower servants immediately gestured for us to take our seats. At this moment music began in the tower, dancing girls ascended the stage to perform, the atmosphere became lively, and the tower filled with the sounds of clinking cups and cheerful conversation.

I held my tea cup with both hands, rolling it back and forth to warm them, looking around at the enchanting dancers performing passionately. In my heart I resolved never to let Song Langsheng come to such places—men were better off working diligently from sunrise and returning home early at sunset, remaining innocent of worldly ways.

Thinking this, I turned my gaze toward Nie Ran. Back in Chen Family Village, Xu Fang could always attract groups of village girls with his flute music, coming to chat him up. Later one day he said, why not stop fishing and go sell artistic performances at the brothels in the neighboring town—the money would come faster and more plentifully. I naturally opposed this vigorously, clamoring about what would happen if he saw too many beautiful women and his heart became confused.

The same person, the same situation—back then I obstructed him in every way, now I encourage him through every means. Could this be called things remaining the same while people change?

Noticing my gaze, Nie Ran turned his head: “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, then suddenly remembered a question and blurted out: “Where did you learn to play the flute?”

He startled, and something like a chill seemed to flash through his eyes. I waved my hand: “It’s fine if you don’t want to answer…”

“I couldn’t speak as a child.”

I was astonished.

His gentle voice seemed particularly calm in this noisy venue: “Ordinary children can speak by age one or two, but by age four I couldn’t even say ‘father’ or ‘mother.’ Everyone worried and sighed over this, and so did I. Day by day I watched my father’s expectations turn to disappointment. Whether joy or fear, I had no way to express it.”

“Later I had the flute—it could say what I couldn’t say.” He half-lowered his eyelashes, his slender fingers gently stroking the flute: “I can’t remember how I learned it. It was as if this was something I was born knowing how to do.”

Two years ago, He Feng had also asked Xu Fang: You clearly lost your memory, so how do you remember how to play the flute?

He waved his flute and laughed: “I don’t know either. The moment I picked it up, it felt like something I was born knowing.”

In a blink, I almost saw the person before me as Xu Fang. I pressed my fingers to my brow, repeatedly reminding myself they were two completely different people.

At this moment the music in the tower abruptly stopped, and the dancing girls dispersed. I looked toward the gauze curtains ahead, where someone was already seated gracefully beside the qin. Though her true appearance couldn’t be seen clearly, her serene and elegant posture somehow gave an inexplicably graceful feeling.

The entire venue instantly quieted, with only the breeze stirring the curtains. Everyone held their breath waiting for the strings to be plucked.

The woman’s left hand touched the end of the qin. As she slowly raised her right hand, she seemed to glance our way. The next instant she struck the strings with a sharp sound, string after string urgent, suddenly stirring up a momentum of rising winds and surging clouds.

The qin music surged with soul-stirring power. If this were a battle march, it might inspire military morale. But to play such vast battlefield music in this wine-drinking, pleasure-seeking venue—wasn’t she afraid of startling the guests so they couldn’t swallow their food?

The key point was, Miss Wu, how was Nie Ran supposed to harmonize with this type of music on his flute?

I rubbed my forehead. So in the end, would I still have to use my princess privileges to get a meeting?

The musical style gradually shifted to lighter strings and lower tones. Nie Ran held his jade flute, slowly raising it to his lips. Following the qin’s melancholy境界, he gradually played out a vast and distant expanse.

If Wu Pingting was playing the killing of iron horses and golden spears, then what Nie Ran played should be the aftermath—corpses strewn across the battlefield. The flute sound was like chanting, like weeping, desolate and melancholy.

However, after the bleakness gradually came the sight of riding horses across plains, hearts of loyalty transforming into tender feelings. When the flute sound gradually became thread-like and the music ended with the strings’ final note, the lingering sound continued endlessly. For a moment the entire venue was silent.

A cry of “Bravo!” broke the silence, and the tower returned to its festive atmosphere. A young maid approached Nie Ran with small steps: “Young master, please follow me to Listening to Plum Pavilion to wait briefly. My young mistress will come shortly.”

Nie Ran revealed a faint smile without leaving a trace. I breathed a sigh of relief and nodded to him.

We soon met the legendary Wu Pingting.

I must say she was an extremely beautiful person. That face looked as if drawn from an ink painting. The moment she entered, the entire room seemed bright and charming in contrast to her.

Nie Ran and I stood up respectfully. She glanced at us coolly: “Which of you is the one who challenged me to musical combat?”

I was startled. Nie Ran spread his fan and gestured toward me: “This humble one only wanted to borrow some of my good friend’s light to glimpse the young lady’s beauty. Please don’t take offense at any presumption.”

Wu Pingting’s expression showed displeasure: “I don’t meet with idle persons.”

Nie Ran said: “This one was presumptuous. I won’t disturb you further.” He turned to look at me: “Brother Bai, I’ll wait for you in the outer hall.” After speaking, he closed the door, leaving only the two of us in the room.

I smiled warmly and cupped my hands toward her. Just as I was about to speak, Wu Pingting’s sleeve suddenly produced a sword blade pressed against my chest, saying sternly: “The flute player wasn’t you.” She looked at my neck and asked: “What are your intentions in disguising yourself as a man to enter Inviting Moon Tower?”

I sighed rather helplessly and took out the princess jade seal from my breast to show her: “My surname is Xiao.”

After Wu Pingting saw it clearly, she sheathed her sword, alertly stepped back, and bowed: “So it’s Princess Xiangyi. This common woman was blind and acted disrespectfully just now. Please forgive me, Princess.”

I sat down and smiled: “Ignorance is not a crime.”

Wu Pingting’s attitude was quite respectful: “May I ask what brings Your Highness here?”

I didn’t want to beat around the bush and spoke directly: “I won’t hide it from Miss Wu—I’m investigating an old case. This case is related to Miss Wu.”

Hearing this, Wu Pingting smiled: “Inviting Moon Tower operates openly as a business. We’ve never done anything illegal, much less been involved in any case…”

“The old case I’m referring to isn’t about Inviting Moon Tower, but Shangwei Escort Agency. The massacre seven years ago—Miss Wu is the only survivor. Regarding that case…”

Wu Pingting’s expression changed slightly, cutting off my words: “This common woman has survived until now only by heaven’s mercy. The past is unbearable to recall. Please show understanding, Princess.”

An expected attitude.

“So Miss Wu doesn’t want to find the murderer who killed your entire family back then,” I said. “If that’s the case, why use musical challenges as a pretext to search for people?”

Wu Pingting suddenly raised her head.

I smiled: “Just now when Miss Wu saw my flute-playing friend, your eyes dimmed. Wasn’t that disappointment that he wasn’t the person you were seeking?”

Her figure was silent for a moment in the lamplight before saying: “Who does the Princess think I’m looking for?”

I opened my fan with a whoosh and waved it: “Back then everyone at Shangwei Escort Agency from the escort chief to the kitchen help was killed without exception, yet you who escaped death not only didn’t hide but opened this Inviting Moon Tower with great fanfare. How could this not be puzzling…”

“It wasn’t until I heard Miss Wu’s qin music that I suddenly understood—Miss Wu isn’t trying to hide from someone, but to find someone. The person you’re seeking is a man who plays the flute.”

“So I was thinking—might this man be related to that massacre seven years ago?”

“Seven years ago Miss Wu was in the prime of youth at sixteen. If she met a man who could harmonize with her music, what might happen?”

Hearing this, Wu Pingting suddenly narrowed her eyes and laughed out loud: “Princess Xiangyi truly lives up to her reputation… That’s right. My father, my eldest brother, my fellow disciples—they were all killed by him.”

I was stunned.

A mocking smile appeared on her face: “Killed by the person I most admired.”

Seven years ago Wu Pingting was still just an innocent and beautiful young girl. At sixteen, it was the age when hearts begin to stir, but the escort agency was full of rough men who shouted and fought—there was simply no one who could properly communicate about delicate matters of the heart with her.

One night she was alone in the courtyard playing qin when flute music suddenly drifted from the other side of the wall, harmonizing with her heart’s song. As they say, a musical soulmate is hard to find. Her heart surged uncontrollably and she pushed open the door. Under the moonlight stood a handsome and extraordinary man who smiled at her with scholarly elegance. From then on, the evil karma began.

Wu Pingting said this man was called Feng Li. I nearly misheard it as “pineapple” for a moment—no one would have such a name, really.

Unfortunately, Wu Pingting back then didn’t have half my wisdom. She fell into love amid Pineapple’s sweet words and introduced him to her father. Pineapple said he was a Ministry of Justice official and was very sincere about marrying his daughter.

Wu Pingting’s father was delighted to hear the other party was a court official, so he treated him like a future son-in-law, often inviting him to the escort agency to eat meat and drink wine.

With this back and forth, their relationship naturally became closer.

Pineapple learned that the escort agency’s situation wasn’t very good. One day he came running urgently to reveal inside information—the Emperor wanted to capture rebels, and if they could help the authorities catch them, it would surely please the dragon countenance and very likely result in the escort agency being designated as the Imperial Escort.

Wu Pingting’s father naturally wanted this business, but thinking it over, if even the court couldn’t catch these people, how could they have such capability?

Pineapple patted his chest and said not to worry—he had already arranged for someone to infiltrate the rebels. This person would follow them all the way in their escape, leaving clues for them to ambush and capture.

Hearing this, I instinctively said: “The rebels were Jun Jinzhi, and the spy was Cai Mi?”

Wu Pingting was shocked: “The Princess knows this person?”

“She was once my personal palace maid, but disappeared after that night. Continue with your story.”

So that night, Wu Pingting’s father plotted with Pineapple and finally decided to split into two groups—one led personally by her father to pursue and kill Jun Jinzhi, the other led by her eldest brother to pursue and kill Jun Jinzhi’s son.

What they never expected was that the eldest brother’s group was broken through and escaped, while her father’s group directly let Jun Jinzhi go.

This development was far beyond my expectations. I couldn’t help interrupting her: “Did your father not want to do this business?”

Wu Pingting said: “My father wasn’t unwilling to do business, but after meeting Jun Jinzhi he couldn’t bring himself to kill him. And all of this, Feng Li had calculated from the beginning.”

I was confused for a moment. The key point seemed right before my eyes: “Could it be… your father and Jun Jinzhi were old friends?”

Wu Pingting nodded: “He had received kindness from Jun Jinzhi in his youth. Though they hadn’t met for over ten years, he regarded him as a benefactor.”

I suddenly understood: “In other words, Feng Li knew from the beginning about the relationship between your father and Jun Jinzhi. He approached you and deliberately had your father participate—not to capture rebels, but… for some other purpose?”

Wu Pingting looked at me in surprise: “The Princess is indeed quick-witted.”

That night, Wu Pingting’s father recognized his old friend and learned that Jun Jinzhi carried a shocking secret. Besides Feng Li, countless others in the world were also watching this secret covetously.

Jun Jinzhi worried that this secret would perish with this pursuit, and then restoration would truly be hopeless.

Wu Pingting’s father decisively helped them escape a hundred li away.

Unexpectedly, Feng Li suddenly appeared. Jun Jinzhi didn’t want to implicate others, so he slashed Wu Pingting’s father once, pretending it was a battle wound, and finally escaped alone with his wife.

Naturally Feng Li didn’t believe them, but he didn’t expose them on the spot. He even hypocritically left a doctor for Wu Pingting’s father and continued the pursuit with a group of men.

I asked: “Since your father carried Jun Jinzhi’s secret, why didn’t he find his son and tell him the truth?”

She paused for a long time before saying: “At that time Jun Jinzhi’s son was nowhere to be found. My father could only return to the escort agency first to make other plans. Who would have thought that within a few days, Feng Li came.”

“He wanted to force the secret’s location from my father, but my father kept silent. That night, he had everyone at the escort agency killed, before my father’s and my eyes, including my eldest brother.”

I couldn’t imagine the scene of one’s beloved killing all one’s relatives. Yet the more Wu Pingting spoke of this passage in flat tones with a calm expression, the more shocking it was.

“How did you finally escape?”

Wu Pingting smiled ambiguously: “My father whispered to me what he wanted to know, and after saying it, severed his own meridians and died. And I became the only person in the world who knew the secret.”

I was silent: “I see. Since Feng Li so wanted to know where the secret was, he naturally wouldn’t harm your life.”

This Pineapple schemed step by step with ruthless and efficient methods, and his character was utterly without virtue or conscience. Thinking of having to become his enemy, I suddenly felt chilled throughout my body.

Seeing me not speaking, Wu Pingting said: “Why doesn’t the Princess ask why he didn’t capture me for severe interrogation?”

I shook my head: “He knew well that you hated him. The more he pressed, the more you would perish together. If I were him, I might as well let you go and secretly have people follow you—perhaps gaining clues from this. Otherwise, even if he severed your tendons, you wouldn’t reveal half a word.”

Wu Pingting closed her eyes: “All these years, I’ve never once visited the place my father told me about, and he has never appeared. But I know that one day he will come to find me personally. When that time comes, I will kill him.”

I didn’t dare expose Wu Pingting’s delusion—how could you possibly kill such a terrifying person?

But after Wu Pingting finished everything, her thoughts quickly returned to the earlier question: “The Princess mentioned earlier that Cai Mi was your personal palace maid. Does this mean Feng Li has some connection to the Princess?”

I sighed: “I’ve considered everyone with any possibility but really have no clues.”

“Then… why does the Princess go to such lengths to reinvestigate this case?”

I glanced at her: “Did you give the dog food to that Cai Mi back then, tracking Jun Jinzhi’s son all the way?”

Wu Pingting said frankly: “That’s correct.”

I hesitated briefly, then closed my fan: “Miss Wu, please don’t act impulsively when I tell you this. Cai Mi appeared a few days ago. She had been feigning death all these years—I think this was all orchestrated by that Master Feng Li.”

Wu Pingting’s ice-cold expression finally couldn’t hold: “Where is she now?!”

I said: “Rest assured, she’s currently staying safely in the Princess Manor with no unusual activity. However, Miss Wu, forgive my bluntness—that Feng Li is crafty and cunning, and he operates in the shadows. Even if we went to his door, we probably couldn’t get half a word about him. If we want to lure the snake from its hole, there’s only one plan for now.”

Wu Pingting fixed her gaze: “Please speak, Princess.”

I stood up and moved closer to her: “Invite the gentleman into the trap.”

Outside the window, a lone moon and cold crows. I laid out my entire strategy. After Wu Pingting listened, she didn’t speak for a long time. But no matter how difficult, she ultimately made her choice: “Very well.”

I stared at her intently: “You might die.”

She smiled faintly.

“Has the Princess ever experienced despair? When heaven slowly takes away everything and you’re powerless to stop it, you’ll understand—not knowing the pain of life, why fear the suffering after death?”

This rhetorical comparison made my hair stand up inexplicably.

A sliver of remaining moon entered the room.

I saw the night growing deeper and thought today could only end here.

Before leaving, I remembered something and asked her: “Do you know what Jun Jinzhi hid that could make Feng Li so nervous and cause your father to refuse to reveal it even unto death?”

Wu Pingting said airily: “Who knows? But since he was former dynasty royalty, what he hid should not be underestimated.”

My heart skipped a beat. I almost thought I was hallucinating: “You, you said who was former dynasty royalty?”

Seeing my hands shake so much I couldn’t grip the fan handle steadily, she was quite puzzled: “What, doesn’t the Princess know that Jun Jinzhi was the former dynasty’s Prince Rui?”

The candle flame crackled.

For many days, the fog that had lingered in my heart was suddenly stripped away. I abruptly raised my eyes and saw my own panicked self reflected in Wu Pingting’s eyes.

Jun Jinzhi was the former dynasty’s Prince Rui. Song Langsheng was the son of the former dynasty’s Prince Rui.

If this was true.

If it was really true.

Father Emperor didn’t just harm Song Langsheng’s family—he utterly destroyed everything of his.

For Jun Jinzhi, the so-called rebellion was always just wanting to reclaim what rightfully belonged to him.

Then between the Prince Consort and me lay far more than family hatred.

There was also national enmity.

————————————————Second Update, Previous Yi Shou Zhe Tian Yi Shou Chui Di – Chapter Also Revised————————————————

“Princess? Is there something wrong?”

I must have been lost in thought too long, as Wu Pingting also became uneasy. I shook my head, no longer in the mood for farewells, and just walked out of the room.

I had once asked Song Langsheng—was your revenge complete? He answered then: It’s complete.

I didn’t understand.

What constitutes completing one’s revenge?

Did he know his own background?

If he knew, with what kind of heart did he serve as this Prince Consort, with what kind of feelings did he admit to liking me?

If he didn’t know, if he never knew… then when the truth was revealed, how would he choose?

I suddenly remembered that night when he said to me: “I’m just somewhat afraid that someone or something will separate us again.”

At that time, I wanted to pour out my heart and tell him I felt the same.

Precisely because we feared leaving each other, we concealed things from each other.

However, memories would always be restored one day, and truth would also come to light.

Why wait until we reached the end of our rope to let heaven decide our fate?

Seeing me come downstairs, Nie Ran quickly followed: “Did the discussion go well?”

I stared blankly at Nie Ran, many things flashing through my mind instantly. After a pause, I nodded slightly, wanting to say farewell and meet again another day. But just as I took a step, my vision inexplicably blurred and a wave of dizziness nearly made me unable to stand.

Nie Ran quickly supported me with sharp eyes and quick hands: “Does the Princess feel unwell?”

I struggled to steady myself and rubbed my eyes: “I’m fine. This happens occasionally lately—my body probably hasn’t recovered well.”

Without allowing argument, Nie Ran helped me onto the carriage and insisted on sending me back to the manor. I smacked my lips but couldn’t refuse.

When we reached the Princess Manor, just as I jumped down from the carriage, Nie Ran said out of nowhere: “If the Princess doesn’t mind, I’d like to keep this flute.”

I turned back. His countenance had a faint warmth under the lamplight. I didn’t know when he had begun to differ from that cold Nie Ran of our first meeting.

Just now when I was wandering lost in Inviting Moon Tower, it was precisely because I saw him and remembered the past with Xu Fang that I cleared the clouds from my heart—

If He Feng back then could have faced things together with Xu Fang in a braver way, rather than passively waiting in the inn, then at worst they wouldn’t have parted as strangers without even a farewell.

I shouldn’t repeat the same mistake now.

Even if Song Langsheng truly was former dynasty royalty, even if what stood between us was indelible countless sorrows and grievances, at least he should understand the truth and understand my heart.

I said “good” to Nie Ran and turned back to find the Prince Consort.

But upon entering the manor, Liu Bo saw me and stamped his feet frantically: “Oh my Princess Your Highness, where on earth did you go? The Prince Consort searched for you most of the day…”

The Prince Consort was looking for me?

I was startled: “Where is he now?”

Liu Bo was so flustered he couldn’t speak clearly: “He, he, he left.”

My heart jumped: “Left? Where did he go?”

Liu Bo shook his head in confusion: “It seemed like Grand Court of Review business, but also seemed not to be. The Prince Consort told me to tell the Princess that he’s temporarily leaving for some time—at most a month or so. The Princess should stay peacefully in the manor waiting for him. Don’t worry too much about anything—when he finishes his business he’ll hurry back to reunite with the Princess.”

My head was spinning and dizzy.

What could have happened to make Song Langsheng leave without saying goodbye, unable even to clearly state his destination?

I felt wronged and angry at the same time, panting so hard my chest rose and fell violently: “How long has he been gone?”

Liu Bo was terrified: “One, one hour…”

One hour—with fast horses, sending people to pursue along the three official roads leaving the capital, we might still catch up.

I waved my sleeve, about to give orders. I don’t know if it was because I was already emotionally troubled, but this additional upset made me feel a breath stuck in my chest that I couldn’t release.

I gripped my clothes trying desperately to smooth out the breath, but when breathing became easier, my lungs began to ache sharply.

Something felt wrong in my heart. A fishy-sweet taste surged up my throat, my vision darkened in waves. I heard Liu Bo calling “Princess” repeatedly, and A’You’s voice mixed in saying “quickly help the Princess back to her room” and “fetch Imperial Physician Zhou.” Then I couldn’t support myself and fainted with closed eyes.

I don’t know how long passed—perhaps not very long. I woke almost suddenly and sat up in bed. The first thing I saw was Zhou Wenyu administering acupuncture with lowered head, plus Liu Bo and A’You anxiously guarding the room.

Song Langsheng was not there.

“Prince Consort…” I murmured, discovering my voice was hoarse and unlike my own: “How long has the Prince Consort been gone?”

Liu Bo said tremblingly: “Over two hours… Your Highness, please lie down and don’t overexert yourself… This old servant has already sent someone to the palace to inform His Highness the Crown Prince…”

Over two hours—probably too late to catch him.

At this time Zhou Wenyu had finished the acupuncture. I rolled down my sleeves and said weakly: “You all withdraw first. This Princess is truly tired. We’ll discuss everything when the Crown Prince arrives.”

“Princess.” Zhou Wenyu suddenly said: “This old man has something he wants to say to the Princess alone.”

After Liu Bo and A’You withdrew, I turned back to prop up the soft pillow higher. Seeing Zhou Wenyu keep his head lowered and not dare look at me, I asked: “What is it?”

Unexpectedly the next moment he knelt down, raised his head, and actually had tears in his eyes: “Princess… Princess… this old man is incompetent…”

Seeing him like this, my heart sank several degrees: “What do you mean by this?”

Zhou Wenyu trembled with almost every word: “The reason the Princess fainted… was not excessive fatigue, but poison… poison taking effect…”

I was bewildered: “Poison taking effect? What, what poison?”

“Forgetfulness Powder, it’s Forgetfulness Powder, Princess… When stramonium poison takes effect, the meridians throughout the body gradually turn purple…” Zhou Wenyu mumbled incoherently: “It’s not Tianshan mandala, but stramonium… How could it be stramonium…”

My mind buzzed, and my hands almost instinctively gripped the cotton quilt tightly: “You’re saying that what I was poisoned with was Forgetfulness Powder made from deadly stramonium?”

Zhou Wenyu nodded with difficulty, then looked up in disbelief: “That day, didn’t the Princess and junior brother set up a trap together? Clearly it was said the Princess was poisoned with Tianshan mandala that wouldn’t harm her life. How, how could…”

I rolled up my sleeves and discovered the meridians on my wrists were gradually turning blue-purple. Remembering the several abnormal fainting spells recently, fear and coldness suddenly swarmed over every inch of my skin like countless tiny insects.

The Forgetfulness Powder the Crown Prince gave Song Langsheng was indeed the non-lethal kind.

Although he pretended to poison me then, I remembered I never took this poison. But all this time, seeing Song Langsheng persistently unwilling to tell the truth, I thought something had happened afterward and he had given me Forgetfulness Powder again.

That’s why he rushed frantically to Kang Lin’s residence for secret investigation when he heard about problems with the medicine.

But Xiao Qitang, how could you forget that when Han Fei was still around, he told you that Song Langsheng’s pills had long been switched by you?

The medicine in his hand was just ordinary dough.

Hadn’t you already pocketed the real non-lethal Forgetfulness Powder?

I suddenly remembered the wooden box I saw in the short cabinet when tidying the study this morning.

Ignoring Zhou Wenyu’s attempts to stop me, I threw off the quilt, barefoot and stumbling with each step, I moved to the study and found that half-foot-square sandalwood box.

Opening it, a brown pill lay quietly in the box.

It seemed that what I was poisoned with could only be the life-threatening poison.

Zhou Wenyu followed step by step. I stared woodenly at the pill and asked: “How much longer can I live…”

“Prin, Princess…”

“Speak!”

Zhou Wenyu met my eyes and quickly looked away: “At most one month… or… less than one month…”

One month? Could it be that I wouldn’t be able to see the Prince Consort again before death?

I closed my eyes forcefully: “When the poison takes effect… what will happen?”

His voice was indescribably desolate: “Unbearable pain in all limbs and bones, decay of the five organs and six viscera… but, but this old man will do his best to reduce the Princess’s suffering… can use acupuncture, can use medicine, can…”

“You may go.” I opened my eyes indifferently, covered the wooden box: “Don’t tell anyone about this.”

Zhou Wenyu didn’t dare go against my wishes. After he left, all my strength seemed drained away. I slumped limply in the chair, and tears I’d held back for so long still rolled out drop by drop—onto my neck, into my chest.

Night wind blew through the window with howling sounds. I was actually grateful my voice was hoarse—this way my sobbing could be covered by the wind and wouldn’t disturb anyone.

I had thought I wasn’t that afraid of death.

I could seek death after being abandoned, could step forward to block arrows amid assassins, could resign myself to fate in raging fires.

But why now, upon learning my time was limited, did my heart fear so clearly?

Through blurred tearful eyes, I discovered a letter pressed under a paperweight on the desk.

The six characters “To My Beloved Wife Princess” were clearly visible on the envelope.

It was indeed the Prince Consort’s handwriting.

I came to my senses, wiped away my tears with the back of my hand, and opened the letter.

The letter read:

A’Tang, forgive my departure without farewell due to sudden circumstances. Fearing others might read this letter, I cannot clearly explain the reason.

I’ve wanted to tell you the truth many times, but when I made up my mind, I searched all of the capital and couldn’t find you.

Not being able to tell you in person fills me with regret.

Perhaps when I return, your memory will have recovered.

I don’t know whether you’ll suffer for this, or forget.

Right now, I have only one wish.

I hope that no matter what you remember, you can trust me as before.

From the day Song Langsheng fell in love with Xiao Qitang, his heart has never wavered even half a degree.

Regardless of circumstances, regardless of experiences, regardless of background.

Besides this, I ask for nothing else, only that you be safe.

Written by Song Langsheng.

I read it over and over until the characters on the paper became blurred beyond recognition by teardrops.

The letter was silent, tears were silent, as if even breathing was silent.

Only an empty room remained.