Behind him, people crowded together, a sea of humanity, yet the person he wished to see was not there.

Disappointment was inevitable, though within expectations.

The silver-armored youth sitting astride his horse paused for a moment, his expression calm as he turned his head back around.

The scarlet cloak behind him and the red tassels on his pure silver helmet fluttered with the movement, making that upright figure appear even more dashing.

The procession slowly advanced, passing through the city gate.

On one side of the street in a teahouse, Luo Sheng watched fixedly through the crack of the opened window as that familiar figure disappeared from view. Before her eyes, it seemed the flame-like cloak still flickered.

She reached out and pushed the window fully open.

The biting cold wind blew in through the wide-open window, mercilessly brushing past her pale cheeks.

Hong Dou came over, looking at her master who was lost in thought with great puzzlement: “Miss, you and Prince Kaiyang are so close—if you wanted to see him off, why didn’t you rush out? Hiding here, he can’t see you.”

Luo Sheng said nothing.

Hong Dou sighed: “They say once war starts, it could be years before they return. From now on, our wine house will have lost one loyal patron who came rain or shine…”

“Stop talking. Let’s go.” Luo Sheng glanced at the chattering little maid and turned toward the door.

Descending the stairs and leaving the teahouse, the civil and military officials seeing them off and the common people watching the spectacle had all chased beyond the city gate. The street had become empty and desolate.

Just like Luo Sheng’s currently empty and desolate feelings.

She thought she had done nothing wrong.

She had assumed Prince Kaiyang was a carefree person. That day under the persimmon tree when he invited her to grow old together and was rejected, he should have let go.

But he had asked her a second time.

Then she must be more ruthless and not give him any hope.

If there was any fault, it was probably that she couldn’t control having developed feelings for him.

Luo Sheng closed her eyes and smiled self-mockingly.

In her situation, what right did she have to develop feelings?

By the time she returned to Youjian Wine House, snow had begun to fall.

At first it was just snow dust, but gradually it became large snowflakes like goose feathers, swirling in the air and drifting down.

A thin layer of snow gradually accumulated on the stone slabs. The bare persimmon tree also donned a snowy garment, taking on an elegantly beautiful appearance.

Hong Dou directed Shi Yan to set up a winnowing basket at the doorway to catch sparrows.

As soon as Shi Yan thought about how most of the fragrant roasted sparrows would end up in Elder Sister Hong Dou’s stomach, he became slack and called Shi Yan to replace him.

Wei Han had left Shi Yan behind when he departed for campaign this time.

Compared to his older brother’s laziness, Shi Yan was much more diligent and soon had abundant catches.

Gathered around the brazier eating the fragrant, oil-dripping sparrows, Shi Yan glanced at the young woman sitting by the window from the corner of his eye and sighed heavily: “Alas, Master is used to eating the food and wine from our wine house. Gnawing on dry rations along this journey, he’ll really suffer…”

Luo Sheng gazed at the falling snow outside the window as if she hadn’t heard.

Shi Yan sighed again: “Master’s stomach isn’t even in good condition—”

Luo Chen suddenly stood up, choking back the young attendant’s remaining words.

Luo Sheng sensed something unusual and turned her head.

The youth looked at her and asked calmly: “Elder Sister, shall we go look at the persimmon tree?”

Luo Sheng was surprised, puzzled about what Luo Chen wanted to say, but quickly nodded.

Watching the siblings go to the back, Shi Yan was somewhat bewildered: “How come Young Master Luo has also started liking to look at the persimmon tree?”

Could Master not even keep this bit of special treatment? How pitiful!

The persimmon tree in the courtyard stood quietly, like a demure young lady who had changed into new clothes.

Luo Sheng looked at the youth’s slightly reddened cheeks and said: “The wind is cold and the snow heavy. Whatever you have to say, let’s go inside and talk.”

Luo Chen nodded.

What he wanted was a convenient place to talk—naturally he had no particular attachment to the persimmon tree.

The siblings abandoned the lonely persimmon tree and went inside.

Inside the room it was warm as spring, completely different from the cold outside.

Luo Sheng sat down and poured a cup of hot tea, passing it over: “Speak.”

The youth sitting across from her took the teacup and placed it beside him.

His face showed several degrees of seriousness through the curling tea steam, making him look as if he’d aged a few years.

Luo Sheng quietly waited for the youth to speak.

“Today Prince Kaiyang left the capital. Why didn’t Elder Sister go see him off?”

Luo Sheng looked at Luo Chen in surprise.

She had thought her younger brother would ask about the rattle drum matter again—she hadn’t expected him to ask about Prince Kaiyang.

“With all the civil and military officials seeing him off, I wasn’t needed.”

Hearing Luo Sheng’s answer, Luo Chen looked at her with a hint of suspicion: “There’s something I can’t quite understand.”

“What don’t you understand?”

The youth gripped the teacup, warmth transmitting from the cup into his palm.

“Elder Sister has feelings for Prince Kaiyang, doesn’t she?” After a brief silence, Luo Chen said quietly.

Luo Sheng frowned slightly.

Discussing this with her younger brother seemed somewhat strange.

“Why ask this?” Luo Sheng avoided answering.

Luo Chen said seriously: “Because I can’t figure it out. Elder Sister isn’t someone bound by conventional propriety. If you like him, why avoid him?”

He watched for her reaction as he spoke the doubt circling in his mind: “Unless Elder Sister has difficulties she cannot speak of. But Father treasures you like a pearl in his palm—he wouldn’t interfere with you and Prince Kaiyang’s relationship. What could Elder Sister’s unspeakable difficulty be?”

He shouldn’t be asking these things, but Elder Sister’s behavior was too contradictory, making him inexplicably uneasy.

She was so casual even about snatching male companions, yet didn’t dare see off the one in her heart?

Luo Sheng was silent for a long while before smiling: “What unspeakable difficulty? I just feel Prince Kaiyang has become serious, while I currently don’t wish to marry. So I don’t want to delay him.”

Luo Chen believed this reason to some extent, his tone becoming stern: “Elder Sister will soon be seventeen. You should grow up and stop always thinking about keeping male companions.”

Luo Sheng laughed despite herself: “I understand. I’ll keep them for a few more years and then stop.”

Luo Chen picked up the teacup and took a sip, then stood up with a stern face: “Then I’m going to eat roasted sparrows.”

“Go ahead. If you don’t go now, they’ll have eaten all the sparrows.”

The youth’s expression changed slightly as he quickened his pace.

Luo Sheng walked to the window, watching the youth hurrying toward the main hall.

Perhaps at an appropriate opportunity, she should tell her younger brother his true origins. But how to explain her knowledge was a headache—she could hardly tell her younger brother she was Princess Qingyang who had returned in another’s body.

The heavy snow fell continuously for several days, accumulating thickly on rooftops and streets.

As the eastern campaign army gradually distanced itself from the capital, it seemed even the dark clouds brought by war drifted away.

Disasters in distant places always seemed less worrying than minor troubles close at hand.

This was true for commoners, and also true for most officials and nobles.

After Emperor Yong’an accepted the reality of Prince Dingdong’s rebellion, dispatched the eastern campaign army, and arranged coordination among various government offices for the war effort, he began considering another important matter: the issue of heirs.

Currently in the rear palace, only Noble Consort Xiao was pregnant. Gambling that Noble Consort Xiao would definitely give birth to a prince was too risky.

Emperor Yong’an was someone who liked to make comprehensive preparations. Thinking that if Noble Consort Xiao gave birth to a princess, it would undoubtedly put him in an extremely passive position.

After much consideration, it would only be secure if more consorts showed signs of pregnancy.

But these imperial consorts had produced no joyful news for years. Even with Noble Consort Xiao’s pregnancy, Emperor Yong’an had little confidence in them.

It seemed he should still enrich the rear palace and select some new people to enter.

Soon rumors that His Majesty had decided to select new consorts spread.