Who can pierce the mysteries of the Nine Heavens?

As the magnolia blossoms faded and the begonia breeze rose, a fresh morning rain had just passed.

Cheng Hewei had grown much more withdrawn, and Xu Guiyi worried she might suffocate under the weight of her own silence. Thinking it over, she remembered how fond Hewei had always been of cats and dogs, and so, hoping that caring for small creatures would lift her spirits, she visited Prince De’s manor. After carefully choosing two puppies—one black, one white, both plump, clean, and gentle—she brought them to Dongbi Hall.

The arrival of these adorable, rotund pups livened Dongbi Hall considerably. Sometimes, Lu Zhirou would bring her seven-stringed zither into the courtyard; An Ruosu would sit quietly in a corner, embroidering; and Cheng Hewei would tease the puppies, coaxing them to roll belly-up on the grass, making Xu Guiyi laugh until she nearly doubled over.

At such moments, Xiyue would serve chopsticks, Qingyu would offer tea, and sweet cakes made of golden wind and jade dew, along with silver-tipped tea from Dabie Mountain, would be set out.

Madam Wu, dressed in pale cloud-colored court attire with a jade hairpin set in her hair, approached swiftly from afar.

“Crown Princess, Her Majesty the Empress has summoned you to the palace.”

Xu Guiyi’s smile faded in surprise; Cheng Hewei stopped playing with the dogs, Lu Zhirou’s music ceased, and even An Ruosu’s needle froze mid-stitch.

“Do you know what it’s about?” Xu Guiyi rose, assisted by Qingyu.

Madam Wu, prone to sweating when anxious, replied, “No one in the palace said anything, Mistress. I don't know.”

Judging by the urgency, it was unlikely to be a pleasant matter, and Xu Guiyi understood as much.

Before leaving, Madam Wu hurried over to fasten Xu Guiyi’s cloak, whispering, “The wind is strong today, and by the look of the sky, there may be a violent rain. Please return early, Crown Princess.” Xu Guiyi nodded and finally boarded the carriage.

As the carriage rumbled through the imperial city streets, they found the roads nearly deserted—perhaps due to days of rain, the city felt unusually desolate.

Though the Jiaxu Palace was quite a distance from the main palace, the roads were clear today, and soon Xu Guiyi arrived. Accompanied by palace attendants, she proceeded directly to the Empress’s quarters.

“There are always floods in Jiangdong, but this year the waters of Poyang Lake are especially fierce—so fierce, in fact, that the water levels reversed, causing riverbanks to burst and flooding thousands of households. His Majesty was furious this morning,” the Empress said, as if seeing a savior in Xu Guiyi.

Poyang Lake spanned five counties in Jiangdong, and with the disaster so severe, it was the people of Jiangdong who suffered most.

Xu Guiyi’s heart was heavy. “Has the court any plan? Whom does Father plan to send to take charge in Jiangdong?”

The Empress replied hurriedly, “No decision yet. The six ministers are all in the palace, and both the Crown Prince and Prince Qi are at Tai Ning Palace, but still no decree has been issued. No one expected such a calamity at Poyang Lake this year.”

No one? Xu Guiyi remembered that two years ago, Prefect Xu Yan of Lanzhou had joined with the five prefects of Jiangdong to submit a memorial urging the Emperor to rebuild the levees around Poyang Lake.

But after the memorial reached the Grand Secretariat, it vanished. Xu Yan had pressed repeatedly, and the Ministry of Works finally replied that the repairs would be an enormous undertaking, requiring careful calculation of labor and materials before a plan could be submitted for imperial approval and implemented in the various prefectures of Jiangdong.

Two years had passed. Xu Yan waited in Jiangdong for two years, until the waters at Poyang Lake reversed, the levees collapsed, and the farmers’ homes were submerged.

A sudden commotion broke out as an attendant rushed in with news: the Emperor and the Crown Prince were quarreling and the Empress was urgently needed.

Xu Guiyi glanced at the Empress, who looked distraught, and her own heart filled with worry.

The Emperor was a resolute man—unyielding, decisive, and fearsome. No one dared challenge him. But the Crown Prince, Fu Lancheng, was rebellious; over the years, the Empress had worried herself sick over him.

“To have sat as Crown Prince for ten years and accomplished nothing for the nation, to care nothing for the people, nor your father—what use is a heir like you?” When Xu Guiyi and the Empress arrived outside Tai Ning Palace, they heard the Emperor’s furious roar and stood frozen, unsure whether to enter or retreat.

Xu Guiyi did not know, but the Empress did: though the rift between Emperor and Crown Prince was long-standing, this was the first time such words had been said in public. Her heart ached with sorrow.

The Emperor, exhausted by his outburst, finally quieted. The Crown Prince’s three tutors began apologizing profusely, blaming themselves for failing in their duty to guide him.

Annoyed by their familiar platitudes, the Emperor dismissed both Fu Lancheng and his tutors with a single command.

The Empress and Xu Guiyi exchanged a silent glance and withdrew a few steps to wait at a respectful distance.

Soon, Fu Lancheng emerged at the head of the group, followed by the tutors. He walked with his head bowed, but when an old minister spotted the Empress nearby, he immediately stepped forward to pay his respects and apologize.

The elderly official, his temples flecked with white, knelt before the Empress, his eyes full of grief. “Your Majesty, Crown Princess.” Xu Guiyi could not bear to look, stepping back a few paces.

The Empress, feeling her own share of guilt, hastily said, “Grand Tutor Cao, my lords, there’s no need for such formality. Please, rise.”

Only then did Fu Lancheng approach, greeting the Empress with fatigue etched on his face.

Steadying herself, the Empress turned to Xu Guiyi. “The Crown Prince is worn out from the day’s council. Crown Princess, accompany him back to rest.”

Xu Guiyi and Fu Lancheng took their leave, the Empress still urging, “Do get some rest.”

Together with the Crown Prince’s teachers, they offered their farewells and departed.

In the carriage, Fu Lancheng remained silent, and Xu Guiyi, unsure what to say, pretended nothing had happened.

As they traveled, a sudden gale swept rain against the carriage. The storm Madam Wu had predicted had indeed come.

Feeling the fine spray drifting through the window, Xu Guiyi said softly, “As we left, Madam Wu warned there would be a violent rain today—she was quite right.”

Fu Lancheng stayed silent. Just as Xu Guiyi thought he would not reply, he suddenly spoke: “Madam Wu was the most diligent and meticulous of the palace matrons. When I established my household, Mother sent her to the Eastern Palace.” The statement seemed to come from nowhere, leaving Xu Guiyi unsure of the Crown Prince’s mood.

After a pause, Fu Lancheng continued, “Grand Tutor Cao, Grand Preceptor Su, and Grand Guardian Zhou are all renowned scholars of the age. They have given their lives to teaching, only to be saddled with a student like me—useless in letters and arms.”

Useless in letters, unskilled in arms.

The son of the Emperor could have hundreds or thousands of tutors, and his armies could number in the tens of thousands. As the heir apparent, surrounded by loyal and capable men, why should Fu Lancheng be a master of all things himself?

What truly chilled the Emperor was that the legitimate heir of the realm seemed to lack any ambition for the throne.

The Crown Prince’s tutors had devoted their lives to teaching him the classics and the arts, but none had taught him the craft of kingship.

Xu Guiyi had never looked at Fu Lancheng so intently before. His features were striking—brows, eyes, a high nose, full lips; his profile was exquisite. His face resembled the Emperor and Empress, yet his heart seemed nothing like theirs.

“Once, Your Highness forbade me from gazing directly at you. Today, I dare to look again, and still find Your Highness so like His Majesty in appearance, and in demeanor like Her Majesty.”

This time, Fu Lancheng was not angered. He mused, “Perhaps the more alike one’s appearance, the less alike the temperament? Mother always says she must have given birth to me by mistake—I should have been born to the wilds and fields, not in these nine-layered palace walls.”

Xu Guiyi did not echo his words, but smiled. “As a child, I was frail and sickly. My father sought every famous doctor in Jiangdong, and all said I would not live to come of age. One winter, in a heavy snow, I fell gravely ill, and everyone thought I would die in that storm. Yet, not only did I survive, my health improved with every year. The old priest at the temple said those who survive great hardship are destined for later fortune.”

Fu Lancheng smiled as well. “To survive disaster and find later fortune. But is this deep palace, with its walls within walls, the later fortune of the Crown Princess?”

Xu Guiyi’s smile blossomed. “I only mean that in this mundane world, there may not be sages who see through fate at a glance. Since we are all ordinary, who can claim to be wiser than another?”

When they returned to Jiaxu Palace, Madam Wu was already waiting with attendants at the gate. Xu Guiyi personally accompanied Fu Lancheng to Yonghui Tower before returning to Chunhui Hall herself.

After drinking the hot soup brought by the attendants, she bathed in steaming water to ward off the chill. Reclining in the bath, she noticed a scar on her arm.

Qingyu saw it too and was surprised, but dared not ask.

Xu Guiyi explained gently, “Years ago, in the disaster-stricken areas of Jiangdong, while aiding refugees, I was scratched by a child in distress.”

Qingyu was incredulous, so Xu Guiyi explained further, “It was years ago. The child was starving, itchy and in pain—he didn’t mean to hurt me, it was just a small scratch.”

Qingyu sighed, “Refugees from the floods have it hard, especially the children. To suffer so much at such a young age…”

Xu Guiyi replied softly, “Floods strike Jiangdong every two or three years, and the court has never managed to solve the problem. Pity… with every flood, who knows how many lives are lost?”

After her bath, Xu Guiyi dressed and asked where the Crown Prince was. Qingyu went to inquire and soon returned to report that His Highness was alone in his study and had forbidden anyone to disturb him.

The next day, Xu Guiyi went to the palace herself to report on the Crown Prince’s condition to the Empress.

The Empress listened, then smiled faintly. “How could I not know my own son’s temperament? Last night, His Majesty and the ministers called meetings to discuss aid for Jiangdong, trying everything to save the situation. Today, the court has chosen a prince to go inspect Jiangdong in person. Do you know who was finally sent?”

Xu Guiyi had a bad feeling and braced herself, “Which prince was sent?”

The Empress’s tone carried a trace of disappointment. “By imperial command, Prince Zhao left for Hongzhou early this morning, bearing the Emperor’s favor and a hundred thousand bushels of imperial grain to comfort the people trapped by the floods.”

Xu Guiyi was puzzled. “Why Prince Zhao?” She thought, shouldn’t it have been Prince Qi, the diligent and loyal one? But she dared not ask aloud.

The Empress understood her question. “Last year, Prince Qi had to clean out corrupt officials in the five counties of Jiangdong; it wouldn’t do for him to go again so soon. If anything happened, Consort Nangong would not let it go lightly.” Xu Guiyi was at a loss for words, unable to comfort the Empress.

So the Emperor had wanted the Crown Prince to go, but they could not agree, hence the father-son quarrel.

Xu Guiyi drew in a cold breath. No wonder the Empress was so pained—her son, the Crown Prince, had long neglected state affairs, allowing the other princes to outshine him, leaving the Empress herself utterly humiliated.