Why go to such lengths to compromise? Her humble posture made his heart ache unbearably. A sincere confession had somehow turned into a thousand knives piercing his heart. He couldn’t bear it—hearing such words from her lips was a testament to his own inadequacy. He pressed a finger to her lips and drew her into his embrace. “What do you mean by ‘mistress’? To belittle yourself is to belittle me. I want you to be my Princess Consort in honor and dignity. If I cannot bring you into the prince’s residence, then I will never marry in my lifetime. I mean what I say.”
His embrace was broad, and for the first time, she felt it belonged solely to her—no one could take it away. She wrapped her arms around him, tears falling onto his chest, slowly staining the dark blue satin with two clusters of radiant blossoms. Tilting her face up, she gazed at him sorrowfully. “I just… I never dared to hope. Someone as wonderful as you settling for me—I’d only hold you back for a lifetime.”
Who was holding back whom, who was whose salvation—none of it mattered. As long as they were bound together, even the hardest life would be worth it. He had thought this through carefully. Though Seventh Master’s encouragement had helped solidify his resolve, it was ultimately his own unwillingness to let go. The person he had waited for all this time was her. Ever since she barged into his life, everything had fallen back into place. To seek benevolence and receive it—how could he not rejoice and be grateful? With parents who were distant and siblings estranged, finding someone to live with, to depend on—even if life wasn’t perfectly smooth, he would be content.
His fingers gently played with her earlobe as he smiled, his eyes slowly welling up. “Missing you would be the real lifelong regret! I’m happier now than I’ve ever been, happier than any royal title or fiefdom could make me. I’m a dull man—I can’t give you soaring highs or crushing lows, but I’ll do everything in my power to ensure the rest of your days are peaceful and secure.”
After twelve turbulent years, she longed for stability more than anyone. She clasped his hands in hers and lowered her gaze. “I don’t need soaring highs or crushing lows either. Just a home, a peaceful life—that’s enough. Back when I worked for the Shuntian Prefecture, I’d rise before dawn and pass through the hutongs every day. I loved hearing the sounds from people’s courtyards—washing rice, cleaning vegetables, scolding children… When the gates of a siheyuan opened, someone would come out with a stove and light a fire right at the doorstep. I’ve always been odd—I loved the smell of coal briquettes. It felt like life, like home, reminding me of the Wen Family Compound. Later, I often dreamed that one day, I’d wear a skirt, tie up my hair, and marry. I wanted my own little courtyard too…” She smiled sheepishly. “I’m not ambitious—I just wanted a home of my own. Now that I think about it, whether it’s a siheyuan or a small house, none of it really matters. What I was missing was a person. I’m tired… I just want someone to lean on.”
“I know,” he sighed. “You’re still a girl, after all. Carrying too much will crush you. From now on, don’t worry about anything—I’m here.”
“I just don’t want to burden you,” she murmured, rubbing his fingertips. “You’ve had it hard too.”
He chuckled. “I’m still a prince, aren’t I? Whatever I do, it’s easier than what you’ve endured. You’ve never stood on ceremony with me before—why start being cautious now that you’re with me?”
His occasional teasing made Dingyi even shyer. She gave his forearm a light tap. “Who’s with you?! It’s just… even a dog knows to care for its home!”
He flicked her nose. “Silly girl.”Dingyi only then noticed the bandage on his left hand and quickly took hold of it, asking what had happened. He brushed it off lightly, saying it was nothing serious. "Cut myself while splitting bamboo strips. This morning when I saw Seventh Lord coming to my room, I was afraid he'd notice I was making lanterns, so I hurriedly dropped everything to greet him. In my panic, the knife slipped and dug into my flesh."
She laughed at his lack of composure. "Why weren't you more careful? What were you so flustered about when he came?"
"He's a chatterbox like a sparrow. Once he notices something, he won't stop asking questions." Mentioning Seventh Lord reminded him of those ambiguous words—he didn't know if they were true or not. Asking her directly would make him seem petty, but not asking left him unsettled... He couldn't help mocking himself. So much for being magnanimous—when it came to someone he cared about, he was just like any other man, as fragile as tofu strung on hemp rope.
It was Dingyi who asked first, "What did Seventh Lord come to see you about?"
He hummed, studying her expression before carefully replying, "He said he wanted to take you as his male concubine."
Her face flushed instantly. "That man has no sense of propriety, spouting nonsense like that... He did mention it yesterday, but I didn't know how to respond. Seventh Lord isn't a bad person, just too playful—it's almost intimidating."
So Old Seventh had never been in her considerations! He felt immensely relieved, a ripple of smiles spreading across his face. "When he came to tell me this, I was uncertain. He outshines me in every way—if you had to choose, I'd worry I wouldn't measure up. Fortunately, you favor me, and that's my good fortune. I don't know how serious he really is, but for now, he seems quite enthusiastic and won't let go easily. As the saying goes, 'The distant magistrate is not as powerful as the local official.' If I hurriedly secure you first, I'll have the upper hand, and I won't have to worry about him causing trouble." He rested his hands on her slender shoulders, gently shaking her. "He's a slippery character and will likely keep pestering you. Hold your ground for now, and once we return to the capital, I'll think of a solution. Your previous enrollment in the Feather Banner doesn't count—you were originally from the Han Banners. Even if the Wen family isn't exonerated, you're still Wen Dingyi. He isn't your master, and you're not his servant. Your marriage isn't his to decide."
She nodded. "I know all that, and I can guard my heart. I'm a principled person—I don't fall for just anyone."
She was clever and perceptive, understanding things with just a hint—a truly worry-free girl. He sighed in relief, taking her hand and leading her forward to the stone platform ahead. Dozens of Kongming lanterns remained unlit, their faint crimson glow especially enchanting against the snow. Childlike in her excitement, she let go of his hand and dashed ahead, marveling and cheering. He watched her with a smile, her joy making his day and night of effort worthwhile.
On the stone table lay ink and brushes. He turned to dip a brush in the golden pigment and handed it to her. "Write your heartfelt wishes here. The higher the lantern flies, the more likely your wish will come true. Think about it—once it reaches the heavens, the gods can't pretend not to see it, right?"
Dingyi smiled and nodded. What should she write? The names of her parents and brothers, hoping they would find peace in the afterlife. In their next lives, may they live safely and joyfully—no more official posts. The political world is treacherous; even running a small business or selling fruit at a stall would be better than being an official.He lit the lantern for her. The oil candle burned fiercely, its swelling heat quickly filling the belly of the lantern. They each held a side, gently releasing it, and the lantern soared upward, undaunted by the wind and snow, carrying its light high and far.
Snowflakes fell into her eyes, and she turned her head to wipe them on her shoulder. After writing the names of her family members, it was her turn, but she felt too shy to put pen to paper. She wanted to write his name and hers—the stroke of "Hong" stretching straight across, only to twist at the end into nothing more than the character for "longevity." She smiled wistfully and said, "We were born on the same day. Today is your celebration too."
He remained silent, taking the brush from her and bending over to write on another lantern. The flickering light made his clear, piercing eyes seem even deeper and more unfathomable. Dingyi stared at him in a daze, afraid he might notice and tease her, so she quickly averted her gaze.
His cursive script was exquisite—fluid and connected, with strokes that echoed each other. They say handwriting reflects the person, and perhaps there was some truth to it. Regular script was too rigid, wild cursive too unrestrained, but his calligraphy struck a balance between the two—flexible, dynamic, slanting yet orderly, its vigor unstoppable.
Though she hadn’t read much, she recognized the two lines written side by side on the lantern: Yuwen Hongce and Wen Dingyi. Two names that had no connection now stood together, their strokes intertwining as if destined. Her heart clenched as she watched him write, "Two families united in marriage, recorded in the book of love." A pang of sorrow rose to her nose. She understood his feelings, so she didn’t demand more—for his sake, and because she couldn’t bear to. Having lived among the common folk, she’d seen too many men enjoying multiple wives. Even a peasant might one day rise and keep a mistress. With her awkward status and the debt she owed him, how could she have the face to ask for anything?
Marriage was fated. If you were meant to be a noblewoman, you’d never be fobbed off as a village wife. What was yours wouldn’t escape you; what wasn’t yours couldn’t be forced. Seeing this clearly, she knew she wouldn’t lose out compared to others.
She stood calmly, smiling as he straightened up. "I wonder how far it’ll fly…"
Fine snow dusted her hair. He reached out to brush it off, pulling her into his embrace as they both looked up, watching the lantern drift away. "It’ll go far," he murmured. "Maybe even into Changchun Garden, landing right before the Emperor Emeritus. That’d be perfect—saves me the trouble of explaining."
She shook her head. "No, that wouldn’t be good. If the Emperor Emeritus sees it and asks, ‘Whose child is this Wen Dingyi?’ the eunuchs would investigate and say, ‘Her father was Wen Lu, who committed crimes under Your Majesty’s rule and died in prison.’ The Emperor would fly into a rage and say, ‘This won’t do—a daughter of a disgraced official? She’d only bring disaster to our Twelfth Master. Better she never returns. Just have her killed.’ Then with one decree, I’d be executed."
She spun the tale so vividly it almost seemed real. Her lightheartedness amused him, and he laughed heartily. "Executed without even a meeting? The Emperor Emeritus may be stern, but he’s not that unreasonable. Actually, my stubbornness comes from him. If he scolds me later, I’ll have my defense ready.""Are you going to argue with him? Don't. It's our fault to begin with. When I was little, I learned a phrase—'Qi da fei ou'..." She smiled. "I didn't understand it back then. I thought it meant if both sides were equally strong, like a wife as fierce as an ox, and the couple couldn't settle their fights behind closed doors, then they shouldn't marry. Later, I realized that wasn't the meaning at all."
She always had the most peculiar ideas. Looking at her, he felt his heart ache for her at every moment. He said, "Let's not overthink it. If I cared about pleasing them, I'd have to suppress my own feelings. You mentioned being an unofficial partner—isn't that exactly what they'd want? Why the rush? I respect you. I'd rather suffer myself than let you endure hardship. No more talk of 'Qi da fei ou' or 'unworthy to reach high.' All I want is to come home from duty and see you waiting for me at the door. Then, Prince Chun's mansion wouldn’t feel like an empty shell anymore. No matter how grand the house or how many servants there are, without that one person, it’s not a home."
They shared the same sentiment—once decided, they longed to settle down. No need for grand passion or vast skies. Just a small table under the old locust tree, a pot of tea, two cups, and conversation face to face. An occasional shared smile, nothing hidden between them, understanding each other’s thoughts with just a glance—what a blissful life that would be!
Her face lit up with hope, vivid and lovely in the lamplight. Leaning against his shoulder, silent, she felt rooted at last, no longer adrift like duckweed in the wind.
The breeze slipped through her silk robes, and she tightened the grape-shaped button at her collar. Warmth filled her heart, her limbs alive with energy. Remembering the tassels she had prepared earlier, she drew them from her bosom and held them out for his approval. "We share the same birthday. I have nothing fine to give you, so I braided these tassels to adorn your Belt with Hanging Ornaments. I hope you won’t disdain them."He looked down—the colors harmonized perfectly, the shared heart knot exquisitely crafted." Removing his Sachet, he handed it to her, casually pocketing the handkerchief that had wrapped the tassels. "I lost a sweat towel the other day. This will make a fine replacement," he said with a laugh.
Unfazed, she smiled faintly, dimples appearing. "A woman’s handkerchief—best not flaunt it, lest people laugh."
He hummed in agreement, watching as she fastened each tassel to the Sachet. The grace in her lowered head moved him deeply. Before, he had kept his distance, uncertain of her feelings, not daring to be forward for fear of offending her. But now, with their mutual affection, mere thoughts weren’t enough—he longed to wear her on his person, tuck her into his embrace, never parted for even a moment.
As for the disgraceful things Seventh Master had done yesterday—if true, bringing it up would only shame her, so he chose silence. Young hearts are quick-witted, every glance sparking new desires. His pulse raced as he edged closer. She finished attaching the tassels, a row of vibrant colors, and grinned. "What is this? So girlish, not very becoming..." She raised her hand to show him, and he seized the chance to clasp it in his palm. Bending his head, he blew warm breath onto her fingers and asked if she was cold. Whether intentional or not, his lips brushed her knuckles. Flushing, she averted her gaze, but he pressed her hand to his chest.
Slowly, his arm slid around her shoulders. Lovers share an unspoken understanding—nervous trembling, yet yielding to fate. He cupped her delicate chin, lifting it gently. Her lashes lowered, her lips radiant in the firelight. Pausing briefly, he leaned in tentatively...
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