He laughs at fortunes withered and flourishing, caring nothing for the story of his own life.

“This matter… what does it have to do with the assassin?” Xu Guiyi steadied her nerves.

Nangong Mingchen continued, “His Majesty suspects that the assassin from the hunting grounds that day was Wen Xianqing.”

Xu Guiyi felt as though she had been struck by a giant clock, her world spinning, her words tumbling out with urgency, “General Wen is the younger brother of Commander Wen, and the stationed general of Dayi. Even if he didn’t die in Dabie Mountain years ago, how could he become an assassin and attempt to kill His Majesty? A general who has survived countless battles—if he doesn’t die on the battlefield, must he be ruined beyond redemption?”

Her throat felt parched, her heart raced uncontrollably. Nangong Mingchen assumed it was from fear.

“You were present that day, Crown Princess. Why do you think the assassin spared Prince Chu? You must know as well—Prince Chu was not born to Consort Cao, but carries the blood of the Pei family.”

Yes, if what Nangong Mingchen said was true—if the assassin was indeed Wen Xianqing, who had once been both mentor and companion to the General Feihong—he would kill the emperor, would kill the crown prince, but not Prince Chu.

Xu Guiyi was struck dumb, thunderstruck.

Nangong Mingchen remained composed throughout. “As for the rest, I can only tell you this—the Crown Prince likely knew the assassin’s identity long before His Majesty did, which is why he dared to confront him. If you have further questions, wait until he awakens and ask him yourself.”

Xu Guiyi forced herself to remain composed. “Why are you telling me all this?”

Nangong Mingchen’s gaze flickered. “If you wish to secure your place as Crown Princess, you must understand the Crown Prince’s heart, and it never hurts to know more about the Pei family. In the end, it’s only a dead man. What does it matter if he grew up alongside the Crown Prince? You and His Highness are the ones with a long future ahead.”

The tears in Xu Guiyi’s eyes wavered, bright and dim by turns. His words echoed those of Xu Zhouyan.

Nangong Mingchen stepped forward. “Don’t be afraid. I will help you.” Gentle, yet resolute.

As he spoke, a sudden cold wind swept by, stinging Xu Guiyi’s face and snapping her back to reason.

She had meant to say that the Nangong family and the Eastern Palace had been at odds for years, so there was no need for the Young Marquis to worry…

But he added, “When you were married, I was far away in Liaodong, unable to send you a wedding gift. Let me make it up to you, little by little, in the days to come.”

She barely heard what Nangong Mingchen said afterwards, only that he bowed in farewell.

She was left alone, standing atop Yonghui Tower, surrounded by the silent heavens and earth.

So he had always remembered. They had all remembered. Fu Lancheng remembered Pei Zhaojin; Mingchen remembered Xu Guiyi.

But she had deceived them both.

The new year arrived swiftly. The people of the imperial capital were once again immersed in festive joy, enjoying the peace and prosperity.

In the afternoon, Madam Wu rushed to Chunhui Hall, saying it was time for His Highness to take his medicine, but she could not find him anywhere.

Xu Guiyi had just returned from the Duke of Cheng’en’s residence, so she donned her fox fur cloak and went out again.

“He’s not fully recovered—why is he wandering about?” Xu Guiyi searched several streets, growing more exhausted and finally venting her frustration on the attendants.

Madam Wu approached carefully. “We’ve already sent people to inquire—His Highness didn’t enter the palace today, nor did he visit the Marquis of Yongjia’s residence.”

Xu Guiyi suppressed her anger. “Has His Highness shown any unusual behavior today?”

Madam Wu shook her head. “When I served him his medicine this morning, everything seemed normal.” After a moment, as if recalling something, she said, “Crown Princess, perhaps there’s a place we can check.”

Xu Guiyi was suspicious, frowning. “Where?”

A quarter of an hour later…

“The Marquis of Wujing’s residence was ordered sealed long ago, wasn’t it?” Xu Guiyi stood before a grand, solemn old mansion, posing the obvious question.

Madam Wu looked down. “Yes, Crown Princess. The residence was sealed six years ago, but His Majesty never decided its fate, so it remains empty. Our prince… makes frequent visits, relying on his status as Crown Prince.”

Xi Yue, worried about Xu Guiyi’s health, was eager to find Fu Lancheng and return to the Eastern Palace for medicine. Xu Guiyi had been out in the cold for so long, she thought a bowl of old ginger soup was in order.

“Crown Princess, shall we… not go in?”

Xu Guiyi looked at Xi Yue, and smiled wryly. “If I step foot into this residence today, His Highness’s recovery will surely be delayed. Let’s wait here. I can endure it.”

Madam Wu called out in concern, “Crown Princess?”

Xu Guiyi replied quietly, “Madam, I’m sorry. I am as stubborn as His Highness.”

At her words, the surroundings fell silent.

Madam Wu had long suspected as much, but now she accepted it. She waved to the attendants, “You may go back. I’ll stay here with the Crown Princess.”

Qingyu pulled Xi Yue away. When everyone had gone,

Madam Wu replaced Xu Guiyi’s hand warmer with a new one, tightened her fur collar, and began, “I entered the palace as a servant at twelve, always doing menial work. When I was twenty-two, two major events occurred.”

Xu Guiyi stood quietly, letting Madam Wu fuss over her.

Madam Wu fetched an umbrella from the carriage and opened it. “The first was in the first month of Chengxiao’s eighth year: the fifth prince, born to the Empress, was named Crown Prince. I was assigned to serve in Chenghua Palace. The second, in the spring of Chengxiao’s eighth year: the entire first-class military marquis of Dayi, the Marquis of Wujing, was sentenced to death, and the Crown Prince fell gravely ill.”

Perhaps the snow was too heavy—Xu Guiyi felt chilled to her bones.

“Is that so? In the autumn of Chengxiao’s eighth year, I was at Zhenqing Temple in Lanzhou and fell seriously ill. My father summoned many renowned physicians, all said I wouldn’t survive the winter. Yet, miraculously, I lived. The temple’s Daoist said, ‘You survived your calamity, so fortune must follow.’”

Madam Wu was surprised. “It seems the Crown Prince and Crown Princess are deeply fated.”

Xu Guiyi smiled coolly. “Didn’t the Astronomical Bureau calculate our birth dates? They said we were perfectly matched, each other’s benefactor.”

Madam Wu smiled as well. “Do you believe in the Astronomical Bureau, Crown Princess? I thought you did not.”

Xu Guiyi glanced around the high-walled estate, deserted and desolate beneath the snow. “I heard the Crown Prince and the little heir of the Marquis of Wujing grew up together, their bond unusually deep?”

Madam Wu lowered her gaze. “Yes. Before the battle of Che Lan City, His Majesty greatly favored the Marquis of Wujing. The old marquis had no sons, only two daughters. His Majesty overruled objections and allowed the eldest daughter to inherit the title—she became the famed ‘General Feihong.’ Later, the old marquis died, and His Majesty took the second Miss Pei as a consort, who became Prince Chu’s mother, the Lady Shu. In those years, the Pei family was showered with honor and favor.”

Honor and favor?

Staring at the desolate old Pei mansion before her, Xu Guiyi felt the cold indifference of the world—nothing could be more so.

“I grew up in Jiangdong, but I heard General Feihong never married. What is the origin of the little heir?”

Madam Wu thought for a moment. “He was adopted from a close branch of the family, and raised in the marquis’s residence soon after birth. Madam Pei, the old lady, died years ago, General Feihong was stationed at the northern border year-round, so the little heir was mostly raised in the palace with our prince.”

Xu Guiyi sighed. “No wonder everyone says our prince never forgot the little heir. My eyes merely resemble his, and His Highness despises me for it.”

Madam Wu glanced at Xu Guiyi’s unusual eyes, but quickly looked away. “I only worked in the rear courtyard, rarely saw the prince or the little heir. But in my years at the palace, I met Lady Shu several times. Your eyes do resemble hers somewhat.”

Xu Guiyi raised her hand to her brow. “Have you ever seen General Feihong?”

Madam Wu’s body trembled, her throat blocked, unable to speak.

“Is it forbidden? Because His Majesty ordered her name never to be mentioned?”

Madam Wu turned pale. “Yes, no one has spoken of her in years.”

Despite her years of service to the people and Dayi—her battles, her twenty years guarding the border, her great achievements—the people remembered her no more.

Xu Guiyi laughed mockingly. “Tell me about the little heir then. He must have been handsome?”

Madam Wu relaxed. “He was strikingly handsome, radiant and extraordinary. He and the Crown Prince were the best-looking children in the palace.”

Xu Guiyi spoke softly, “But sadly, he only lived to thirteen.”

Madam Wu fell silent.

Fu Lancheng emerged alone from the old Pei mansion and saw Xu Guiyi some distance away, Madam Wu shielding her with an ivory umbrella adorned with cranes flying to the heavens, its surface already covered in snow.

They looked at each other. Xu Guiyi stepped forward to brush the snow from Fu Lancheng’s cloak. “Tomorrow is the Lantern Festival, Your Highness. Out without an umbrella—if you catch cold, I’ll have no excuse for your father and mother.”

Fu Lancheng raised his eyes, gazing deeply at Xu Guiyi, saying nothing, sorrow filling his gaze.

Xu Guiyi thought, if her eyes could ease Fu Lancheng’s longing, even for a moment, she would not mind.

“Let’s return to the palace.” At length, Fu Lancheng spoke at last.

The snow fell harder and harder, the first snowfall of Chengxiao’s ninth year, swiftly, gently, wildly sweeping across the skies of Guangling, blanketing Huajia Street, covering every footprint of their journey.

On the street, people walked in pairs. The dazzling lights shone on every passerby, reflecting a thousand distinct colors. No matter how splendid, no one wished to pause, to give up the brief laughter and conversation over three cups of mild wine.

In the end, all things are but commonplace in this world. After all, time will continue to flourish endlessly, and people may live as they please.