In May, the plum rains settled over Jiangnan, drizzling steadily from dawn until dusk.

On the morning of the second, Fang Fulan held up an umbrella, instructing two servants to load the prepared gifts into the carriage.

Today was the old matriarch’s birthday—and quite possibly, Yun Xi’s own long-awaited happy day as well.

Although the old matriarch had already specifically requested an old sword and a piece of embroidery as her birthday gifts, Fang Fulan, worried that these alone might seem too modest and reflect poorly on the marquis’s household’s standing, still found ways to procure a few other things as well.

Yun Xi had the day off, and watching Fang Fulan bustle about, she’d thought to ask where the extra gifts had come from, but after a moment’s consideration, she held back the question.

Living under the same roof, relying on each other, knowing each other inside and out—was there really anything left unguessed between them?

Yun Luo had treated Fang Fulan exceptionally well while he was alive. Back when Miss Fang had been the reigning beauty of Jinling, before Yun Luo had even married her, he had already held her close to his heart.

After Fang Fulan married into the household, with Yun Luo frequently away at war, the two of them hadn’t spent much time together. Whenever he returned victorious and received rewards from the court, he would exchange them for silver and buy her all manner of things.

Hairpins and jewelry, rouge and fine silks—an endless variety.

Fang Fulan had been so beautiful that Yun Luo felt no jewel in the world could possibly match her, and constantly worried he wasn’t treating her well enough.

Unfortunately, this harmonious life as husband and wife lasted only a few years before Yun Luo was gone.

When news of Yun Luo’s death at the northern frontier arrived, Fang Fulan was devastated with grief, falling ill for the better part of a year, nearly following him in death. It was only seeing Yun Xi, a lone orphaned girl, struggling to hold up the entire household, that moved her enough to force herself back onto her feet, out of pity.

With an entire household of the old, weak, and sick, money was needed everywhere.

When A’Ling’s mother lay dying, clinging to her last breath, Fang Fulan had gritted her teeth and taken out the hairpins and jewelry Yun Luo had bought her while he was alive, telling Yun Xi, “A’Ting, take these and pawn them.”

Yun Luo had died suddenly, without even a chance to leave Fang Fulan a final word. These pieces of jewelry were the only keepsakes he’d left behind for her.

Yun Xi had been reluctant to pawn them, but Fang Fulan had said, “In your brother’s heart, this household, and the people within it, always mattered more to him than lifeless objects.”

Only then had Yun Xi kept back a few pieces Fang Fulan cherished most, taking the rest to be pawned.

Watching Fang Fulan direct the servants loading gifts onto the carriage, Yun Xi thought that her sister-in-law had probably sold off her own most beloved jewelry pieces for her sake as well.

The Pei household’s birthday banquet was to be held in the evening, though many guests had already arrived early that morning to offer their congratulations—most of them simply looking to curry favor, given the Pei household’s prominent standing.

No one in the Marquis of Loyalty and Valor’s household held official position, so there was no need to arrive quite so early.

By late afternoon, the rain had stopped, and Fang Fulan and Yun Xi, along with a maid, set off for the Pei residence, with Zhao Wu driving the carriage.

The gate of the Pei mansion was bustling with activity, red lanterns hung on either side inscribed with a large character for “longevity” in gold powder.

Steward Feng and the two young masters of the second branch stood at the gate greeting guests, with a line of servant boys nearby collecting gifts, and further back, a table set up with brush, ink, and red paper for guests to write birthday wishes.

The moment Steward Feng spotted Yun Xi, he hurried forward. “Young Mistress, Miss Yun Xi, you’ve finally arrived. The old matriarch has been looking forward to this since she rose this morning. Please, come in, come in.”

With that, he gave a few instructions to a young servant nearby and personally escorted the two of them inside.

The Pei residence was vast, and the banquet was set up in the flower garden to the east, with a small pond in the center dotted with lotus leaves. Though the feast had not yet begun, the guests were already chatting merrily.

Yun Xi looked up to see Yao Hangshan and Luo Fuyou, along with other high-ranking officials of the court, seated beside the old matriarch, engaged in conversation, while Yao Susu, Pei Lan, and Luo Shu stood nearby. At some point in their conversation, both Yao Susu’s and Luo Shu’s faces suddenly flushed red.

At that moment, a young servant leaned in and whispered something into the old matriarch’s ear.

The old matriarch’s expression froze for a moment, and upon spotting Yun Xi, she rose and hurried toward her, cane in hand.

Drawing close, she called out in a hoarse voice, “A’Ting.” She took Yun Xi’s hand, and whether from joy or sorrow, she nearly burst into tears.

Yun Xi, too, was moved, and said, “These past years, Grandmother, I’ve heard your health hasn’t been well, and I’ve never been able to come visit—this is my failing as a granddaughter.”

Compared to before, the old matriarch had aged somewhat, but having once been a female general herself, even now, in her seventies, she remained sprightly, her white hair and youthful spirit intact.

Hearing herself addressed as “Grandmother,” her voice grew even more choked with emotion. “It’s kind of you to still call me Grandmother. All these years… ah, it’s not you who’s failed as a granddaughter—it’s the Pei household that has failed you. That child Luo, so mischievous as a boy, I used to scold him, calling him a menace for a thousand years to come. I never expected, never expected…”

As she spoke, tears began welling up in her eyes. Seeing this, Fang Fulan gently interjected, “Today is the old matriarch’s birthday—tears aren’t auspicious on such a day. All these years, the old matriarch has thought of A’Ting constantly, and A’Ting has longed to see you as well. Now that grandmother and granddaughter are finally reunited, this should be a joyous occasion.”

“Yes, yes, Fulan is right,” the old matriarch said, wiping the corners of her eyes and smiling. “I’ve gone soft with old age. Now that grandmother and granddaughter are finally reunited, this truly is a happy occasion.”

Yun Xi and Yun Luo had been close to the old matriarch since childhood, so calling her “Grandmother” was not at all inappropriate.

But since there was, in truth, no blood relation between them, when Fang Fulan and the old matriarch both spoke of “grandmother and granddaughter” being reunited, it carried an entirely different meaning to the ears of others present.

At once, whispers began to circulate, all revolving around the matter of Yun Xi and Pei Lan’s engagement.

Standing off to the side, Yao Susu slowly tightened her grip on Luo Shu’s hand, her face turning pale.

But the old matriarch had eyes for no one else in that moment.

She released Yun Xi’s hand and stepped back slightly to look her over from head to toe.

After all these years apart, the little girl who used to cling to her had grown up, turning out even lovelier than she had imagined.

Her brows and eyes were bright as spring, her hair thick and jet-black, her clear eyes holding the inborn resolve and resilience passed down through the Yun family, her lips curved into a faint smile, and the dimples at her cheeks carried a purity as clear as an early spring mountain stream.

She wasn’t dressed in her constable’s uniform today, but wore a pale green skirt layered with a sheer gauze overlay. Though the jade at her waist wasn’t particularly precious, it caught the lamplight beautifully, its shimmer complementing the gardenia hairpin tucked into her dark ponytail.

Her waist was slender, yet neither frail nor overly delicate—instead, she carried herself all the more gracefully upright.

The old matriarch nodded repeatedly, saying over and over, “Good, truly good…”

She took Yun Xi’s hand again, even more affectionately than before, and said, “This afternoon during my nap break, I made some of the little pastries you loved as a child. Come try them, see if they still suit your taste.”

A young master of the third branch, standing nearby, helped support the old matriarch while joking, “Grandmother is truly playing favorites—when I asked for a taste of the pastries you made this afternoon, you wouldn’t give me even a bite, yet the moment Miss Yun Xi arrives, out they all come for her.”

The old matriarch swatted his hand away, scolding him with a laugh, “As if you’re even fit to be compared to A’Ting.”

At these words, everyone present understood exactly what was meant.

Naturally, it was also clear that at today’s birthday banquet, the old matriarch fully intended to settle the marriage between Pei Lan and Yun Xi herself.

At once, the attitude of the Pei household’s servants and the visiting attendants toward the marquis household’s maid and servants grew noticeably more respectful.

Just then, someone from outside came to announce, “The old matriarch, the master, the second young master—Prince Ling and Prince Cong, along with the Third Young Master, have arrived!”

The old matriarch startled, setting down the pastry in her hand and patting Yun Xi’s hand, calling out to Pei Ming and Pei Lan, “Quickly, come with me to greet them at the front courtyard.”

With a prince and an imperial son arriving, no one dared show any negligence, and everyone followed the old matriarch’s lead toward the front courtyard.

The front courtyard, by comparison, had grown much quieter than before, the servants holding their breath in respectful silence as they welcomed in, through the main gate, a man dressed in deep blue-green brocade, his features handsome and dignified—none other than the current Third Prince, Prince Ling.

A few years back, the crown prince had died of illness, leaving Emperor Zhaoyuan with three remaining sons.

The Third Prince, Prince Ling, was the eldest of them; then came the Fourth Prince, Prince Yun; the Sixth Prince was still young, only eleven, not yet granted a princely title, and still living within the palace.

Prince Ling was born of the Imperial Noble Consort, making him a son of humble maternal birth but of noble standing nonetheless.

But Emperor Zhaoyuan did not place much weight on legitimacy or birth order when it came to choosing an heir—he was determined to select the most capable, regardless. Back when the deceased crown prince had been named, his mother had merely been a beauty of the harem, later elevated to consort status only through her son’s rank.

Unfortunately, the crown prince had been fated to a short life and had died young, and in the years since, the position of crown prince had remained vacant.

There was no shortage of speculation outside as to which of the two, Prince Ling or Prince Yun, would ultimately become the next heir, but such matters could not be openly discussed—say too much, and one risked being accused of plotting treason.

Upon seeing Prince Ling, the old matriarch led Pei Ming and Pei Lan forward to pay their respects.

Prince Ling stepped forward to support her hand, saying warmly, “This junior comes at my mother consort’s instruction, to offer birthday wishes to the old matriarch. The old matriarch is my elder—how could I possibly accept such formal courtesy from you?”

He then gave a few instructions to the guard beside him, who, upon hearing this, gestured to everyone in the courtyard, waiving the need for formal greetings from all present.

At this point, there was more commotion at the mansion gate.

Prince Cong and the Third Young Master had also arrived.

Before anyone could even move to pay their respects to Prince Cong, all eyes were unconsciously drawn to the Third Young Master, standing half a step behind him.

Cheng Chang wore pale moonlight white that day, his long dark hair bound into a topknot, and he carried a folding fan in hand.

What was truly maddening was his face—handsome enough to provoke the heavens and enrage mortals alike. And having recently undergone such a change in temperament, he now stood silent and composed beneath the lantern light, cool and detached. Standing still, he was striking enough, but the moment he took a step, the cloud patterns on his robe rippled like moonlight flowing across water—as though he weren’t walking among mortals at all, but striding through the clouds themselves.

Everyone present was but a mere mortal; he alone seemed a celestial being descended from the heavens.