Sea of No Return

Wanwan hаd sреnt nеаrly her entirе lifе sleeрing alonе.

Веfоrе thе age оf six, she was raised by Соnsort Хu, her birth mоthеr. Whilе thеre wаs сеrtаinlу affеction, the tеndеrness fоund within the palаce diffеred greаtlу frоm thаt оf thе сommon fоlk. Еverу рrinсe аnd prinсеss, upon birth, wаs аssigned а certain numbеr of Watchful Маtrоns and wеt nurses. In infancу, thеу werе nursеd bу wеt nursеs; оncе thеy grеw a littlе older аnd morе sеnsiblе, theу wеrе hаnded over tо the Watchful Matrоns. Thus, Wanwan’s сhildhood wаs spеnt аlmost еntirely in the company of female attendants and palace officials. Her birth mother was not entirely hands-off—she would ask how well Wanwan had eaten or slept that day, inspect her studies and needlework—but generally, she would not hold her, let alone share a bed.

Family affection within the imperial household always retained a degree of distance. It was not born of coldness but of the layers upon layers of rules and customs, which over time became ingrained habits. So Wanwan grew accustomed to solitude, to the emptiness of her bedchamber where she was the only occupant. The sudden arrival of a man who would share her bed, upon careful reflection, was truly a frightening prospect.

She took a long time bathing, and by the time she entered the bedroom, he was already there. Red candles burned on the table, and he sat beneath the lamplight reading a book. After bathing, he wore only a sleeping robe, his hair loosely tied with a ribbon. Unlike his proper and orderly daytime appearance, he now exuded a casual, unrestrained beauty. It seemed inappropriate to describe a man with such a term, but Wanwan could think of no other words. He had luminous skin, deep-set eyes and brows, and even lips as red as vermilion. Though he was much older than her, he was only twenty-four—the prime of youth. In the dim lamplight, he still radiated the purity of a young man.

She paused in her steps, and he finally looked up at her. Strangely, he did not feel the slightest unfamiliarity. For countless days and nights, he had often experienced similar illusions—holding urgent dispatches delivered by fast horse from the capital, he would see her step out from the scrolls and stand before him just like this. The only difference was that her features had once been blurred but were now clear and vivid.

He set down the book and smiled at her—a gentle, encouraging smile, devoid of any aggression. That a man plotting to conquer the realm could wear such a relaxed and composed smile was something even he himself did not realize. Perhaps his nature had always possessed two extremes: the more ruthless he was outwardly, the more tender he became toward those he loved. After all, emotions still needed an outlet, and an excess of tenderness, unable to be contained, could only be used to overwhelm her.

She seemed rather awkward, hesitating in her steps, too timid to approach. His smile deepened. When clad in the ceremonial robe of Mandate Orders, she was the Princess Royal; stripped of that armor, she remained a shy young girl, standing gracefully like a tender bud newly sprouted on a branch.

Feeling somewhat constrained, she twisted her hands together and asked, “Is the Prince reading? What are you reading?”

He opened his mouth, only to realize he could not answer. He had merely been putting on a show earlier—wasn’t a man reading a book the most charming? So he had randomly picked one up and held it in his hands, but his attention had been entirely on the sound of her footsteps. He had not absorbed a single word from the book and did not even know its title.

He faltered, somewhat embarrassed. Wanwan tilted her head to study him, one eyebrow slowly arching. “Liezi?”

He hastily nodded. “Yes, yes, exactly—Liezi. ‘When balanced in method, one can grasp it inwardly in the heart and respond outwardly with the vessel; when balanced in skill, one can listen to the high mountains and flowing waters, their echoes halting the moving clouds…’”She lifted the corner of her lips, showing little regard for his dignity. "So it's the Art of Governing People!"

He was taken aback, only then turning to look. The book's cover had already closed, its white background and black characters clearly displaying three large words. He instantly felt a headache coming on—this was utterly embarrassing.

She looked quite pleased with herself, walking over to the table to pick up the teapot and pour a cup of water. Holding the cup, she paced around the room. "The Art of Governing People has eight methods: governing officials, governing talents, governing scholars, governing the loyal, governing the treacherous, governing the wise, governing the foolish, and governing hearts. Among these eight, which does the Prince think is the most difficult?"

Young ladies in the inner chambers usually cared more about rouge and powder, yet here she was discussing this with him. He slowly took a steadying breath. "Conventionally, governing hearts is considered the most difficult, for if you do not understand their hearts, you cannot govern them. But in my humble opinion, that should come later. Governing the treacherous is even harder."

She nodded. "Great minds think alike. Treachery never ceases; only through governance can its harm be reduced. The hearts of treacherous sycophants are the most unfathomable. If even the treacherous can be governed, then the rest naturally pose no challenge." She slightly raised her head, one hand behind her back, striding with measured steps while swaying her head. "Use profit to employ the treacherous, use wisdom to guard against them, use strength to eliminate them, use tolerance to endure them—just a few short phrases, yet they contain great wisdom. To achieve those points, one must first cultivate one's own mind and character. That is why treacherous sycophants are the hardest to eradicate in this world—because those who eradicate treachery cannot endure... not that they don't understand, but that they cannot endure."

She glanced over, her eyes clear and bright. Perhaps she had forgotten she was wearing a sleeping robe. Under the candlelight, the fabric's weave was visible, and through that thin layer of cloth, one could see the graceful curves beneath. He, too, wanted to discuss ancient and modern matters with her, but now was clearly not the right time. How many newlywed men could withstand their wives discussing power and strategy in such a state!

He could no longer remain standing and awkwardly sat back down. "Well... treacherous people should indeed be dealt with, whether on a grand scale like the world or a small one like a household." Compared to her, his words were a jumbled mess. In front of her, his mind often seemed insufficient.

Wanwan looked down on him. She had clearly given him an opportunity to showcase his talent and learning, yet he had returned in such a miserable defeat. If anyone ever said the Prince of Nanyuan was resourceful and wise again, she would laugh herself to death.

Setting the cup down on the table, she said indifferently, "It's getting late; it's time to sleep." As she stepped onto the footstool, she glanced back at him. "Will the Prince sleep on the outside or the inside?"

Why did he have the illusion that the husband's authority was wavering? He furrowed his brows, helplessly averting his gaze. "I'll sleep on the outside. If you need to get up at night or want water, you can call me."

At his words, she suddenly remembered: drinking water was one thing, but what about getting up at night? Having an outsider in the room, and a man at that, was truly inconvenient.

In an instant, she was brought back to reality from her lofty discussions. Hesitantly sitting on the edge of the bed, she said, "I... don't sleep well. I suppose the Prince has already witnessed that. To avoid accidentally injuring you, please sleep on the Arhat couch tonight."

He frowned with a smile. "Your Highness, this is no way to treat others. I'm not afraid of poor sleeping habits; I'm a martial arts practitioner. Usually, when wrestling, as long as no blades are involved, taking a few hits is nothing..." He looked at her deeply. "Didn't you say it was hot yesterday? Today, the bedding is thinner. I'm afraid you'll get cold at night, so I can keep you warm."

She looked utterly unconvinced. In this season of warm spring flowers, was there any need for warmth?

He pointed toward the window. "The weather is changing. It's stuffy during the day but will turn cool at night. That's how the weather is in the south."Wanwan had nothing more to say. She took off her shoes and climbed into bed, making room toward the inside. Fortunately, the bed was large enough that a clear boundary between them wouldn’t be an issue.

What she had said to Tong Huan and the others while bathing earlier still held true. Avoiding the situation was not a solution—what needed to be faced must be faced. She had never treated others unfairly in her life. Even if she had been brought to Jiangnan through his schemes, she couldn’t give the people of the Princely Mansion any grounds for gossip. Before the wedding, Nanny Li had explained almost everything to her—how men and women should be together, how to bear children. Although she had only half-understood it, there was still him. Today, she would do her part, and afterward, she wouldn’t feel she had let him down. After all, the strongest emotion in her life had only ever been fondness. It didn’t matter whom she truly married or with whom she consummated the marriage.

She lay on her back, not wanting to look, and closed her eyes. She heard his footsteps gradually approach, then felt the bed shift slightly as he lay down beside her. A scent of fine sandalwood wafted over. She sniffed—it was somewhat sweet, reminding her of her father.

Her father loved Buddhist rituals and never used dragon’s saliva incense, so he naturally carried that scent with him. When he returned to the inner palace for official duties and came to see her and Consort Xu, Wanwan would greet him respectfully. As she bowed, she would catch the scent from the hem of his robe—a memory that remained vivid even after all these years.

Neither of them spoke. In the quiet, with only the sound of rain as company, it felt surprisingly peaceful.

A long time passed before she heard him ask, “Are you afraid of me, Your Highness?” His voice was low and hoarse, almost like a murmur in a dream.

She shook her head. What was there to fear? It was just a little awkward.

He turned to face her, his eyes like distant clouds and skies, now so close. “Look at us, sleeping in the same bed. We’ll be like this from now on. No matter how close one is with parents or siblings at home, it can’t compare to this. The shared joys and sorrows between husband and wife are what truly touch the heart. In the future, if you have thoughts you can’t share with outsiders, you can tell me. I am another you. But when I express my devotion to you, I fear you might dismiss it. With a fief of three thousand households and ceremonial status equivalent to a prince, you could live well even without me.” He smiled self-deprecatingly. “So, making solemn vows in front of you feels like empty words. The Princess’s Residence has palace guards and an imperial procession—you lack nothing.”

Wasn’t this the plight of many Imperial Consorts? A perfectly good wife, married but not needing your support or affection. If she is slightly displeased, she can reprimand you; if she is truly unhappy, she can submit a memorial of impeachment. Rather than husband and wife, it’s more like ruler and subject. Daughters of the imperial family sit high in the clouds, inspiring awe and fear. That’s why several of Wanwan’s aunts from the previous generation lived unhappy lives—outwardly noble but never truly happy.

She mumbled in response, still stubborn. “I lack nothing, so if you treat me poorly, I can simply avoid seeing you in the future.” After saying this, she turned away. “You don’t snore at night, do you? Nanny Li snores, and it keeps me awake when she’s on night duty.”

He was a light sleeper. People who sleep lightly are like mechanisms—the slightest disturbance can jolt them awake. How could they possibly snore? He said he wouldn’t. “I’ll be careful. You can sleep soundly.”

She hummed in acknowledgment, curling her small body into a ball, unconsciously building a wall that kept him outside her world.The pillow was strewn with her hair, strands winding and cascading behind her like an ink wash painting. He reached out to touch it lightly, afraid of disturbing her, knowing full well his thoughts were still improper. With her beside him, he felt as if he had fallen into purgatory; even the faint fragrance at the tips of her hair could lead his mind astray.

He knew he must not act recklessly and understood the need for restraint, so he began silently reciting the Scripture of Clarity and Tranquility: "Heaven is clear, earth is turbid; heaven moves, earth is still. Man is clear, woman is turbid; man moves, woman is still..." Yet her slender back pulled his thoughts back again. He had no desire to sleep at all; this long night seemed even more unbearable than the last. Her scent drifted insistently into his nostrils, impossible to block. He thought he should turn away, but he couldn’t bear to, glancing at her from time to time, hoping she might turn toward him. But she remained still, perhaps already asleep.

How had it come to this... He buried his face in his hands, his mind muddled, half-conscious and half-dazed. Never before had he examined the embroidery on the bed curtains so intently; this time, he saw it clearly—the strands of thread, the density of the stitches, all studied thoroughly.

Finally, unable to resist, he called out softly, "Wanwan..."

She did not respond, but her shoulders trembled slightly.

"Won’t you speak to me?"

Her voice was muffled in the bedding, "What is there to say? It’s time to sleep."

Anything would do; when it grew quiet, his mind wandered—a man’s greatest flaw. He racked his brains: "When couples sleep together, women usually don’t use pillows. Did Nurse Matron ever tell you that?"

Utterly bewildered, she turned her head and asked why, "Then how would I sleep? It would be uncomfortable without a pillow."

He smiled innocently yet meaningfully, "You could rest your head on my arm... If there are no barriers between husband and wife, that’s how it’s done. Of course, if they’re only together in appearance but not in heart, then there’s no such rule—they simply don’t share a bed."

Wanwan was taken aback by his words, "Nurse Matron never mentioned this to me. Is that really the custom? Prince, you’re not fooling me, are you?"

His tone was firm: absolutely not.

What to do then? Did sleeping together mean they had to embrace? In the heat of summer, wouldn’t that cause a rash!

She was again weighing personal comfort against greater considerations. For the sake of the bigger picture, she had already resigned herself to consummating the marriage—what harm was there in resting her head on his arm?

She truly was naive. Propping herself up, her glass-like eyes fixed on him, she removed her pillow, "Since there’s such a saying, I can’t refuse your offer. Let’s just go through the motions, and I’ll move back later."

He immediately extended his arm. She tried resting her ear against it, but he said it was wrong, adjusting it to cradle the nape of her neck.

A man’s skin was firm and unyielding; even through the inner garment, it felt like stone. Wanwan couldn’t see what was so good about this—it wasn’t comfortable at all. For the sake of appearances, she endured it reluctantly. But being this close, nearly pressed against each other with no room to move away, was truly unbearable.The fine sandalwood, warmed by body heat, released a gentle, lingering fragrance. Yet their intimacy felt like a mere formality, their limbs stiff and awkward. He sighed, "Your Highness, how are we to go on like this? Some things must have a beginning. Blind Marriage Silent Weddings are common nowadays—other couples manage just fine. We’ve even met and spoken before, so why can’t we? I truly wish to build a life with you. Before the wedding, I looked in the mirror—my face is decent enough, not something to frighten you. Let’s take it slow, day by day. Time isn’t the issue; what matters is your willingness. Otherwise, if I’m the only one eager, it won’t last."

She had never seen other couples, but she had seen Xiao Duo and Yin Lou—how they loved each other, their gazes inseparable. She longed to taste that feeling, though she wondered if she ever would. She was already married to this man before her; if she wanted to learn from Yin Lou, it could only be with him. She had once thought he resembled Xiao Duo, and though it felt shameful, she quietly imagined him as Xiao Duo. Surely no one would know.

How sad—sometimes she pitied herself, always coveting what belonged to others. Lost in self-pity and consumed by grievances, she forgot to resist. Without resistance, she relaxed and truly began to treat him as a pillow, turning to find a comfortable sleeping position before drifting into a doze.

If only these arms were Xiao Duo’s. She sniffled, peering through a thin veil of tears at the even muscles and slender fingers. Handsome men all looked somewhat alike.

Yet her attitude was far from what he had initially imagined. He had prepared to open his arms to welcome her, only to face such an outcome.

Frustrated, he let out a sorrowful sigh. Hearing it, she slowly turned to look at him. "Is something wrong again? I’m already using you as a pillow..."

"Your Highness should face me," he said with a pained expression. "Seeing only the back of your head isn’t how a married life should be."

Does married life require staring into each other’s eyes? She frowned. "Why is even sleeping so troublesome! If it were as you say, why would others have two pillows on their beds? Clearly, you’re trying to fool me!"

Lying down, she seemed less sharp—indeed easier to fool. He glanced down at her smooth forehead and long, thick lashes, and his heart felt instantly full. Dazed, he replied casually, "If not under your head, it could support your waist."

His heart trembled, a dull ache rising until it choked his throat. Not daring to wrap his other arm around her directly, he tactfully rested it over the quilt, tucking it snugly against her back where there was space, and left it there without withdrawing it.

Wanwan felt this man was rather unreliable, his words confusing. She had intended to argue further but suddenly realized she had already fallen into his embrace.

The air grew thin, as if breathing had become difficult. His chest was warm, and beneath the snowy satin collar, a patch of skin was visible—so well cared for, unlike a rugged warrior’s. Wanwan heard her own pounding heartbeat, that sense of helplessness returning. Being this close to him seemed to have been a mistake.I blame myself for being naive; he might have used some handsome man's trick, and I foolishly fell into his trap. Midway, I wanted to back out, to break free, but he wouldn’t allow it. Gently holding me, his voice almost dripping with honey, he said, "I’ve waited all these years, and you’ve finally come to me. Our second meeting was at the West Flowery Gate. Logically, after more than ten years, your appearance should have changed completely, but when I saw that little eunuch, I recognized you at a glance—how strange! I used to fear that missing you would mean a lifetime of regret. Fortunately, Heaven has been kind to me, and you’ve still married me."

She knew that agreeing to let him stay overnight would inevitably lead to such situations. She had prepared herself a thousand times in her heart, yet when the moment came, she was still just as flustered. He finally brought up the West Flowery Gate and asked if she had gone there specifically to see him. Her face burned with embarrassment. "No, it was because the Empress Dowager suddenly forbade me from attending the banquet. I was unwilling to accept it, so I ran out."

He chuckled softly, "Clearly, you went to see the monster... Has no one in the palace told you that the Yuwen Clan is renowned throughout the world for its beauty?"

She was almost mortified by him, clumsily trying to deny it, but she didn’t expect his warm lips to land on her forehead.