Wаnwаn’s hеart skippеd а beat in а moment оf раniс, асcomрanied by the awkwardnеss оf being еxроsеd. Shе hadn’t ехресted him tо return so soоn, nоr had shе anticipаted that hе would discоvеr it sо quiсklу—аlmоst as if he hаd intеntionаllу sеt a trаp, аnd shе, foolishlу, hаd walkеd right into it.
He lоoked down аt hеr frоm abоve, his gaze unfаmiliаr аnd impоsing. Sinсе thеrе wаs no wау out nоw, it was bеtter to sрeаk рlаinly. Shе stеаdiеd her breath аnd said, “You’ve comе just in time. I have sоmething to аsk yоu.”
Нe nоdded. “You’ve been to my study.”
Wanwan gritted her teeth and admitted, “Yes. I was only looking for a book, but I didn’t expect… What is the Tiger Tally in the drawer doing here? With the troops stationed in the Southern Garden, there shouldn’t be a need for The Emperor to deploy the Tiger Tally. Where did you get it?”
He answered bluntly, “From the Andong Guard. You should know that after Wang Ding’s Army was defeated, The Emperor ordered the Guizhou Army to be stationed along the Andong Guard line. I was the one who escorted that army at the time. Now that I’ve been granted the Tiger Tally, what is so strange about it?”
Wanwan found his explanation hard to believe. While he had indeed contributed greatly to quelling the recent rebellion, the Southern Garden had always been a place of suspicion. How could The Emperor possibly allow him to command such a large army? The remnants of the three Feudal Princes alone numbered over a hundred thousand troops—a formidable force. Could The Emperor truly be unaware of this? In the past, when the founding emperor conquered Great Ye, he had only a mere hundred thousand troops. Wanwan carefully calculated the numbers. She had previously asked Yu Xixia to investigate, and on the surface, the Southern Garden had fifty thousand garrison troops. If combined with the forces he could mobilize with the Tiger Tally, his current power had already reached a staggering level.
She stared at him in fear. “Liangshi, you promised you wouldn’t lie to me.”
His expression softened immediately. “When have I ever lied to you? It’s you who always doubts me. The imperial court has seen frequent changes in officials lately, with even the position of Right Commander of the Five Armies left vacant. The southeast region is still reeling from the rebellion of the Guizhou Bureau. With no reliable person by his side, The Emperor has temporarily entrusted everything to me. Why can’t you believe that?” His face then took on a sorrowful expression as he added bitterly, “I’ve truly failed as a husband. I thought only The Emperor distrusted me, but it turns out he is easier to win over than my own wife, who remains wary of me to the end. During the three years you stayed in the capital, so much happened. If I had wanted to rebel, I would have raised the banner long ago. Why wait until now? Everything I’ve done has satisfied The Emperor, but it fails to satisfy you. Do you think I haven’t lost enough already? That I’m not already living in agony?”
His overwhelming grief and anguish made Wanwan suddenly waver, questioning whether she had indeed become overly suspicious. Recalling the trials and tribulations of the past years, none of them had driven him to betrayal. She should believe he was loyal to the imperial court. She must have been confused—it was merely the Left Tally. As long as the Right Tally remained in The Emperor’s hands, he couldn’t do much with the army anyway.
Once she understood, she felt deeply remorseful. She had wounded his heart. Yet, she had never been one to be easily swayed by emotions. In her heart, the State Altars took precedence over love—not because she didn’t love him enough, but because she always remembered she was a descendant of Murong. Sometimes, the more one possessed, the harder it was to let go. To put it bluntly, her support was the entirety of Great Ye. Once she lost her radiance and relied solely on love for survival, who could predict how it would end?She retreated to her seat, nodding slowly. "I was overthinking. Seeing the Tiger Tally suddenly made my heart skip a beat—I was truly afraid..."
He secretly breathed a sigh of relief, though he also felt guilty and uneasy. After all, he was scheming, and he truly owed her an apology. Yet no matter how the situation shifted, her position in his heart remained unshakable—on this point, he could still speak with confidence.
Seeing her attitude soften, he took the opportunity to probe her thoughts. Sitting in the armchair, he spoke gently, "The Yuwen Clan ancestors received imperial favor, were enfeoffed as princes, and passed down a family motto, the first principle being absolute loyalty to the nation. But those three years were an immense torment for me. You couldn’t be by my side, the imperial court repeatedly suppressed the Southern Garden, and then came the news of your miscarriage. You have no idea how I lived through that time. I once wavered, wondering what would have happened if I had truly joined forces with Wang Ding. Would you have hated me? Would you have sworn eternal enmity against me?"
Her expression remained cold. After a moment of contemplation, she replied, "When you pretended to align with the Guizhou Army, commoners gathered outside the Eldest Princess Residence, shouting insults over the walls, calling me shameless for allowing my husband to commit atrocities. I endured it all because I knew the imperial court had left you no choice—you were forced into it. If the nation’s fate was truly exhausted, we could only resign ourselves to heaven’s will. If you rebelled and sought to become emperor, I couldn’t stop you. But I am a princess of Great Ye. All I could do was uphold my duty to the nation, preserving my integrity, and never share the throne with you."
His heart suddenly skipped a beat. "Is that how you see it?"
She turned her head, gazing through the thin gauze on the window at the scene outside. The snow had lightened, and the sky was clearing, casting a golden glow on the rooftops opposite. Frowning, her voice sounded frail, "What else could I do? Allow the nation to be seized and continue submitting to my enemy? I couldn’t bear it. I fear I would have no face to meet our ancestors after death."
Her words, especially "enemy," struck him with horror. If the nation fractured because of him, she would regard him as a foe, and any hope of reuniting in this lifetime would vanish. Why was a woman so stubborn? Had he not treated her well enough? Even if he exhausted every means to win her heart, she still defended The Emperor so fiercely. Would she endure his mistreatment willingly?
"The Emperor has not treated you well..."
Her expression remained impassive. "If I were born into an ordinary family and had such a falling out with my brother, I might have had him strung up and whipped fiercely. But he is no ordinary man. Losing the nation would mean his death. How great a grudge would demand his life as payment? Moreover, Great Ye does not belong solely to him. What I defend is the legacy of our ancestors, not him. I once told you that others may sow chaos, but you cannot, because you are my Imperial Consort, a son-in-law of the Murong family. Unless you abandon me, you should stand with me to safeguard the peace of Great Ye."
These words led to a long silence. Both struggled inwardly, weighing gains and losses repeatedly. At this impasse, there was no room left for compromise.Wanwan had made up her mind, but Liangshi did not think the same way. He always felt that her heart was soft—if she couldn’t be swayed now, then when she reached the end of her rope, she would still accept it. What they lacked now was only a child. Once she became a mother, the child would occupy all her thoughts, and by then, things like father, brother, family, and country would all be tossed to the back of her mind.
After all, a princess was still a princess. When discussing politics, she unconsciously carried a lofty and imposing air. She held herself aloof, making him feel estranged, and he had to break through this predicament. So he went over, pulled her up, and held her tightly in his arms, whispering, “What’s wrong with you? We’ve been through so much together; we shouldn’t end up like this today. The Tiger Tally was sent by the Andong Guard for me to keep. If you don’t believe it, you can have Yu Xixia investigate. However, accurate information must be obtained from The Emperor to avoid any mistakes.”
Wanwan had her own plans and verbally agreed, “Since you’ve laid everything out, there’s nothing to doubt anymore. It’s just me being overly cautious; don’t be angry with me. Today is the first day of the Lunar New Year. Starting the year with anger will make the whole year unpleasant.”
Sure enough, he changed to a smiling face and vividly recounted the amusing stories of playing cuju with the second brother and the others. Wanwan also pretended to be interested, but deep down, she felt melancholy. It was all insincere; their hearts had drifted apart in an instant. Such was marriage.
The first day of the Lunar New Year passed amidst a sea of flowers and festivities, and it wasn’t until the second day that they finally had some leisure. He said that to find out about the Tiger Tally’s whereabouts, they had to ask The Emperor. She indeed ground the ink and prepared to write a letter to The Emperor.
Tong Huan watched from the side, hesitating as she asked, “Has Your Highness thought this through? If something is amiss, this letter may never reach The Emperor’s hands. Even if it does, what if The Emperor, with his ever-changing mind, uses this to make a big issue out of it?”
In truth, Wanwan was also hesitant. She had only written two characters when she felt she hadn’t thought it through properly. What Tong Huan said was right, but what she feared was something else: What if the Tiger Tally truly had an unclear origin? Could she report Liangshi and cause her own husband’s death?
She suddenly hated this situation—it made her anxious and torn. If only she hadn’t discovered it earlier, she would have preferred to remain in the dark; life would have been more peaceful then.
In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to be ruthless. She crumpled the paper into a ball and threw it into the brazier. She would muddle along as best she could. Things had just settled down a bit; why create trouble for herself? If others persecuted her, there was nothing she could do, but if she brought the knife to her own neck, then she deserved it.
Time passed quickly. After the Lunar New Year, the Dragon Head-Raising Festival arrived in the blink of an eye, and before she knew it, it was already March.
March was a time when all things flourished, a good season for marriages and weddings. Lan Zhou’s marriage should also be settled. Wanwan and the Imperial Concubine gathered to discuss it. Liangshi’s list included several girls from families of equal status—the daughter of the head of the Imperial Clan Court, the daughter of the Assistant Administrator of the Secretariat… The Imperial Concubine picked and chose, her opinion being that the family’s status need not be too high; a family from a prefecture or county would suffice, lest others gossip about close ties with high-ranking officials of the imperial court. Wanwan, however, had fewer reservations. She called Lan Zhou over and gently asked him, “Son, you’ve been handling affairs outside for so long now. Take a look and see which family is suitable, and let your mother make the decision for you.”
Lan Zhou’s face fell to his navel. “Your son is still young and doesn’t wish to marry for now. Please, E’nie, speak kindly on my behalf and allow me to marry next year instead.”The Imperial Concubine cut in first, "She's not too young—thirteen this year, fourteen next. Your fifth uncle married his consort at twelve and had a son by thirteen..."
"But didn't the child die after just three days?" he stubbornly retorted, tilting his chin defiantly. Though he had grown tall, his temper still resembled that of a child.
The Imperial Concubine huffed, "Always speaking ill! Where did you learn such foul manners? Don't you know a man should marry when he comes of age? This year it's you, next year it's Ting'er—none of you will escape it."
Lanting blinked twice, "How about I marry first? Then my mother can come back for the wedding feast."
The Imperial Concubine shot him a glare, "Don't stir up trouble. Your elder brother is still unmarried—when will it be your turn?" She motioned with her chin for Nurse Matron Ta to bring the register to Lan Zhou. "Pick one, and once you've chosen, we'll finalize the betrothal... Don't look at your E'nie, she can't save you either. I refuse to believe this—father and son both cut from the same cloth, neither wanting to marry. Do you want to ascend to the heavens?"
Lan Zhou glanced sorrowfully at the seat, "I take after my Ama..."
Wanwan wore a helpless expression, "Last time I asked if there was someone you liked, you wouldn't tell me. I wanted to speak up for you but had no grounds. Now that Her Ladyship has spoken, don't upset her. Be obedient and choose."
He took the register, his hand trembling, then pointed randomly before turning and walking out.
"The daughter of Assistant Commander of the Garrison Command Jin Rui," Nurse Matron Ta returned the register with a smile. "I know this family. The lady is the cousin of the second consort's maternal family. The young lady's name is Yun Wan, the same age as our eldest master. She's been literate since childhood—a dignified and virtuous girl."
The Imperial Concubine was delighted, nodding with a smile, "What a coincidence, we're actually related. Then let the second consort act as matchmaker and propose to the Jin family."
Arranging a marriage inevitably involved a series of tedious steps, but Lan Zhou had been accompanying his Ama to handle affairs since he was seven or eight, so his talent and appearance were well-known in official circles. The betrothal gift could be skipped. Next, they exchanged birth dates and invited the Directorate of Astronomy to assess their compatibility. The result showed a match rarely seen in a century. The Jin family was pleased to form an alliance with the Princely Mansion, and the groom had been watched growing up. Both families were accommodating and eager to proceed, so nothing posed an issue. After the betrothal gifts were exchanged and the date was set, the wedding was scheduled for the eleventh day of the eighth month. The bride would return to her family on the third day, stay there on the fourteenth, and return to the mansion on the fifteenth to celebrate the Mid-Autumn Festival together—truly a perfect arrangement.
With a wedding to be held in the mansion, joy and laughter filled every corner. Wanwan loved such a lively atmosphere and often visited the courtyards to see how the preparations were coming along. Everyone was in high spirits, except for Lan Zhou, who showed no reaction. He went about his duties and spoke as usual, and whenever his bride was mentioned, he remained indifferent, without a trace of a smile.
Wanwan had recently become fascinated with raising birds—those that loved to sing, like parrots, Red Birds, orioles... whatever was beautiful, she raised. Liangshi indulged her wishes, procuring many rare breeds for her. A section of the corridor near the pavilion in front of the building was cleared specifically for hanging birdcages. Every day when the sky cleared, she would remove the covers, and all the birds would compete to show off their voices. The vibrant chorus was so lively it felt as if one were standing in a bird market.She carefully selected one to give to Lan Zhou, hoping to cheer him up. After much deliberation, she chose a bluethroat—a small, clever bird with white eyebrows, brown feathers, and a bright blue chin, looking utterly delightful. The child carried heavy thoughts, and though she couldn’t ease his mind, she placed her hopes on this bird.
Carrying the hibiscus cage, she went to his courtyard, but unfortunately, he wasn’t there. So she hung the cage under the moon cave window. Turning back, she instructed the Hahazizi to take good care of it before returning to the Tower of Profound Grace. When Lan Zhou returned in the evening and saw the bird, he asked where it came from. The servants said it was a gift from Your Highness. He stood by the window with his hands behind his back, remaining there for half an hour.
When the lamps were lit, the bird proved quite amusing—it loved chirping at the lamplight, growing livelier as the night deepened. He had never liked such small creatures before, fearing they might distract from serious pursuits. While others polished walnuts or fought crickets, he spent his time reading or practicing archery and horsemanship. Now, having unexpectedly received this little thing, he felt a special affection for the bird because of the giver.
The bluethroat’s song was crisp and melodious, capable of producing various tunes. He quietly enjoyed it for a while but, worried it might tire, ordered someone to cover the cage with a cloth. He then went to his study to review the reports from the Twenty-Four Counties. After a long while, he realized he hadn’t absorbed a single word.
His mind was elsewhere, a chaotic mess, and sitting there felt unbearable. Having received a bird from her, he ought to go and express his gratitude—it was the most basic courtesy. He checked the time; it was already the hour of Xu. His Ama had social engagements today, so she likely hadn’t retired yet!
He straightened his attire before the bronze mirror and headed out. His residence wasn’t far from the Tower of Profound Grace, making the trip convenient.
Carrying the ram’s horn lantern, he walked slowly, amused by the thought—she truly treated him like a son. She arranged his living quarters nearby for easier care, noticed when he was unhappy, and sent him a bird to play with, embodying a nurturing, almost maternal kindness mixed with friendship. If only he were truly her own child—what a blessing that would be. Sadly, he lacked such fortune.
He ascended the steps of the Tower of Profound Grace and, upon entering, encountered Xiao You. Xiao You exclaimed softly, “Why has the young master come?”
He replied vaguely, “I’ve come to speak with E’nie. Has she retired yet?”
Since returning from Beijing, they no longer kept night watches. Xiao You glanced back; the inner room was still lit. “She usually waits for the Prince to return before retiring, so she likely hasn’t slept yet. Please wait a moment, young master. I’ll go and announce you.”
But, as if guided by some whim, he raised his hand to stop her. “There’s no need for such formality between mother and son. Attend to your duties; I’ll go in myself.”
Xiao You was deeply troubled—wanting to stop him but afraid of angering him—and could only watch helplessly as he entered the bedchamber.
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