The minor encoffining lasted three days, the major encoffining seven—all ultimately in vain. Rujian never returned, his spirit and soul now forever distant.
The day of the funeral was gloomy, with scattered snowflakes drifting down. By the solar terms, spring had already begun—perhaps this was the year's final snowfall.
The wind howled fiercely, making the mourning banners snap and flutter. The funeral procession was grand, stretching two li in length. The Qi people valued returning to one's roots—Rujian must be returned to his parents' side.
The Wen family, being former disgraced officials, had originally been buried hastily without proper graves. These days had left Dingyi utterly exhausted, unable to attend to many details. After all, Prince Zhuang hadn't been convicted yet, leaving the Wen family's reputation still tainted, so they couldn't overstep funeral protocols. Yet upon arrival, she found the gravesite completely renovated—with proper Treasure City and Treasure Dome structures, and the tombstones re-engraved in her name.
She remained silent. Hongce stood nearby, watching her carefully. Suddenly she wanted to weep, her heart wracked with unbearable pain. She knew he was innocent, that he'd borne the brunt of misplaced anger—from beginning to end, he'd done nothing wrong. But what could she do? She was powerless, incapable of anything. She could only direct her hatred at someone—hating Prince Zhuang wasn't enough, so she lashed out at the one closest to her, who loved and cherished her. Perhaps she took his devotion for granted.
Standing at the graveside, she peered down into the pit—over a man's height deep. Would Rujian be frightened lying there? She couldn't bear it. Their sibling bond had been brief—they'd only just reunited when fate played its cruel joke, granting them barely a year together. Giving hope only to snatch it away was far crueler than never having hope at all.
She remembered their time together—just the two siblings. Whatever she was doing, he'd always watch her with that tender, doting smile, cherishing their hard-won kinship. The small daily gestures—how he'd pick the choicest dishes for her, or sit under lamplight mending her clothes when her poor needlework left holes. Where in this world could one find such a devoted brother? And now he was gone. Consumed by guilt, how could she possibly accept happiness? So she tormented herself, dragging Hongce down with her.
The burial had an auspicious hour determined by the Fengshui master. When the moment came—marked by firecrackers and whip cracks—there could be no delay. She stared fixedly at the coffin—exquisite craftsmanship, lacquered to a mirror-like sheen. Eight pallbearers carried it past her; she clutched Hailan's hand tightly. Turning, she saw Hailan's pale face, her breathing faint and irregular. Though trying to maintain composure, her slight frame trembled violently beneath mourning robes.
As the coffin was lowered, monks and Taoists chanted sutras for the deceased. Amid the Buddhist hymns, Dingyi scooped up a handful of earth and held it to her chest, unable to bring herself to cast it down. It burned like a hot potato—uncomfortable to hold yet painful to release. Lost in anguish, she broke into loud sobs as the icy wind filled her mouth and nose, numbing even her tongue.
"Let him rest in peace," Hongce whispered, making the decision for her. Gently guiding her hand, he helped scatter the soil into the grave.
With few true relatives present, those distant kin who came might as well have stayed away—no genuine affection, just opportunistic connections. As shovelfuls of earth filled the grave, they wailed competitively, their exaggerated cries grating on Dingyi's ears.She stood in the northwest wind, watching as the tomb was built and the stele erected, her heart gradually growing cold. Life was so false and empty—in the end, all returned to the yellow earth. What remained of a lifetime's glory and humiliation but dust? After ten days of pain and torment, she had begun to see things more clearly. If she didn’t dwell on it, she could find some peace. She lit incense, offered a cup of wine in tribute, and bid farewell to her last blood relative.
Returning to Wine and Vinegar Bureau Alley, the courtyard was the same as before, yet it felt eerily deserted, as if the people had vanished. The eunuchs and maids coming and going seemed like performers in a Witchcraft performance, separated by a veil, a hazy light, distant and unreachable. She stood there dazed, unsure of what to do.
Sha Tong stepped forward with a bow. "You must be tired, mistress. Please rest in your room. Stay inside these days—I’ll bring your meals to you. You need to recover your strength."
Since she had forbidden them to call her Princess Consort, they had first tried "eldest young lady," but finding it awkward, they had all switched to "mistress." When she didn’t respond, Hongce said softly, "Do as Tongzi suggests. I’ve taken leave these past few days to stay home with you."
Still stubborn, she turned her face away and refused. "I want to be alone. You should return to the prince’s residence."
She forgot he couldn’t hear her and failed to drive him away. He took her hand, his eyes pleading. "I’m also grieving Third Brother’s death. But what’s done is done—you must learn to accept it. Don’t worry about the future. I’ll take good care of you."
Her throat tightened, and she couldn’t speak. He led her into the bedroom.
Eagerly, he spread out the bedding and helped her onto the kang, then sat on a stool to rub her hands, forcing a smile as he asked, "Are you cold? The wind outside the city is stronger—you might catch a chill. I’ve reassigned Master and Xiazhi to serve in the prince’s residence. A Headsman can’t do that job forever, and the pay is meager. Master is getting old—he deserves some peace. You should come to the residence too. The Emperor mentioned it to me the other day—don’t worry about titles. The Empress has found a solution for us... Come home. With Master and your senior brother there, you won’t feel so lonely."
He rambled on, having thought of everything. How was she supposed to respond? Was that prince’s residence really her home?
When she remained silent, he continued, "Facing something like this, the blow is heavy. I can’t help you—you have to find your own way out. If not for me, think of the child. We both hoped for her. You took so many Girl-nourishing herbs—this one must be a princess. And as for Hongxun investigating Prince Zhuang’s case, the Emperor’s stance is clear. There are plenty of officials who shift with the wind—seven gourds and eight ladles. It’s not just your father’s case; others are implicated too. Yesterday, Hongzan sent word asking to meet me—it was about Rujian."
At this, she straightened. "He dares mention Rujian? What did he say?"
Hongce frowned. "He admitted to many things, but this one—he denied any involvement, said it had nothing to do with him."
Dingyi’s anger surged like a mountain. "Nothing to do with him? Who else hated Rujian? He filed a complaint in prison. Prince Zhuang killed him to prevent old cases from resurfacing—isn’t that explanation enough?""If I were Hongzan, I'd kill Jilantai if I wanted someone dead. Rujian's accusations against him were baseless—why would he hand his enemies a weapon at such a critical moment?" He let out a long sigh. "I've considered several possibilities, but they all lead to dead ends—none make sense. Yet regardless, the Emperor ultimately used this incident to his advantage. Rujian's death gave the court legitimate grounds to investigate Hongzan. Hongzan has been in official circles for thirty years with many disciples and supporters. The same reliance once placed on him now fuels the urgency to eliminate him—such is the art of imperial power. Seventh Brother saw it clearly—staying detached from all affairs, neither meritorious nor at fault, is the safest path."
Dingyi sat in a daze, her mind tangled in chaos. Rujian's death was suspicious—who was the real killer? Anger surged within her. Prince Zhuang had washed his hands of it. Others had clear grievances and targets, but what about Rujian? Who should he demand vengeance from?
"I don't believe his words. He killed my parents, then sent men to Changbai Mountain to murder my two brothers. Rujian was the one who slipped through—he had every reason to kill him." She stared coldly at him. "What's the point of saying all this? The fact remains that Rujian lost his life. We just buried him today—don’t you know that?"
He hesitated, wanting to defend himself, but swallowed his words in the end. The imperial physician had warned him to mind her emotions. She was newly pregnant and grieving Rujian's death—her distress was understandable. He couldn’t argue with her. Yet he felt wronged too. After a moment’s reflection, he realized he’d endured exclusion all his life—what was this compared to that?
He forced a smile. "Don’t be upset. Right or wrong, Hongxun’s verdict will settle it. What would you like to eat? I’ve heard some women suffer from morning sickness—when the Empress was carrying the Tiger Prince, she vomited terribly... Are you feeling nauseous? I’ll have someone fetch a basin."
He fussed over every detail like an old nursemaid—a far cry from the aloof prince he once was! Dingyi shook her head and leaned against the armrest pillow. "Don’t trouble yourself with me. I don’t deserve it. Hongce, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a long time."
His face tensed as he placed his hands on his knees and nodded. "I’m watching."
He didn’t say "listening"—he said "watching." That slight difference stirred a tumult in her heart. "Come sit by the edge of the kang," she said.
His face instantly brightened. He stepped onto the footstool, beaming with excitement. Edging closer, then closer still, he reached for her hand—but she subtly withdrew.She dared not look at his face, averting her gaze as she spoke slowly, "I know a fair bit about the details of my father’s case. In truth, blindly seeking to overturn the verdict isn’t entirely justified. If it had been a wrongful conviction from the start, I wouldn’t have fallen for you. Precisely because I know there was fault on our side, I can’t bring myself to hate anyone. But Rujian sees it differently. He witnessed the rise and fall of the Wen family firsthand, and what he resents most are my father’s former classmates and colleagues. They pinned all the blame on my father alone—no one came to his rescue, everyone wished for his early death. And my two brothers, exiled to Changbai Mountain—you can’t imagine the scars they bear. It’s said there wasn’t a patch of unbroken skin left on them. If judged by the crimes alone, my father wasn’t the principal offender; he didn’t deserve death, and neither should the three of them have been exiled. I was only six then, so I didn’t know much. But Rujian lived through every disaster—his suffering was a hundred times worse than mine, and his obsession runs a hundred times deeper... I’m telling you all this just so you understand: to me, an unblemished family background is secondary. What I truly care about is my family’s safety, that we never endure another life-or-death separation. Yet the very thing I fear keeps happening. I don’t understand why Heaven is so cruel to me, not even sparing my last remaining kin. Now, I’ve lost all hope."
He said urgently, "Even if you have no family left, you still have me. Heaven is merciful—it takes one but gives another. You must find solace in that."
She shook her head and reached out, placing her hand over his as she had done before.
"I still love you deeply," she said, swallowing back the bitterness as she forced herself to continue. "But in this world, many who love each other don’t end up together. We can’t go on—not because of resentment, for I don’t blame you at all. It’s just that I carry too much weight, and my heart has grown cold. I’m retreating."
Her words sent a chill through him. What did she mean by "can’t go on"? What did she mean by a cold heart, by retreating? He looked at her in anguish. "What about the child? If you cut ties with me, what will become of the child?"
She replied, "I can’t bring this child into the world. I’m sorry."
"You’ve lost your mind," he snapped, suddenly standing and pointing a trembling finger at her, as if wishing to pierce through her facade. "How heartless you are! I misjudged you! What debt do I owe you that you’d torture me like this? The Yuwen family wronged you, I wronged you—but what fault lies with the child that you’d deny her life? Even a vicious tiger wouldn’t harm its own cub, yet you would kill her? Isn’t she your own flesh and blood? All this time, I was so happy, thinking there was finally a turning point—that for the child’s sake, you’d change your mind. But it was all in vain. Your heart is made of stone!"
Overcome by fury, he pressed a hand to his eyes before turning away abruptly.
She knew he was weeping. It was wrong of her to push him to this point, but how could she possibly return to his life as if nothing had happened? His parents, brothers, sisters-in-law—the mere thought of them sent a bone-deep chill through her. They were all Yuwens, while her parents and brothers were mere ants in their eyes. Hongce had already suffered because of her. If he married her now, he might never hold his head high again.
She was selfish and weak—she admitted it. Only after reuniting with Rujian had she found courage, because she was no longer alone; she had someone to lean on. But now that Rujian was gone, she suddenly realized how insignificant she was. She couldn’t stand against that monstrous, merciless family.She leaned against the edge of the kang, repeatedly apologizing, but he refused to look at her, his profile turning cold and rigid. He said, "I can tolerate your tantrums, I can endure your unreasonable demands, but when it comes to the child, I won't yield an inch. If you lay a finger on her, it's truly over between us. I mean what I say."
He left without ordering anyone to watch her or restricting her movements. She sat there, the kang beneath her evenly heated, yet she still felt cold—a chill from within that no warmth could dispel.
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