The years stretch long within the Hall of Eternal Autumn.

In the Central Plains dynasty, the mighty Yi's Fu clan had won their realm with bow and horseback, and now more than a century had passed since their founding.

It was the thirteenth year of Jinghe Emperor Chengxiao’s reign, and though spring had arrived, the northern climate was still brisk and cold. A gust of wind and snow had swept through the night before, leaving the imperial city particularly serene and austere in its aftermath.

Wu, a palace attendant of Jiaxu Palace, rose early to set the rooms in order. She instructed a young maid to prepare the warmers, so that the noble Crown Prince would not feel the chill upon waking.

Wu, attentive to the hour, quietly approached to see if her master had risen. She listened intently for some time, but there was not the slightest sound from the inner chamber.

She found it odd—recently, the Crown Prince had not been rising late as he used to in winter; by his habit, he ought to have been awake. Considering the snowfall, Wu had deliberately waited a quarter of an hour longer before venturing in.

The Crown Prince was of eminent status. Though he disdained to trouble lowly servants, none among them dared incur the wrath of the heir apparent. Thus, every attendant in Jiaxu Palace served him with the utmost caution, never allowing themselves a trace of sloth or negligence.

Another quarter hour passed before Wu, leaving the other attendants waiting outside, silently entered alone. Before she reached the Prince’s bed, a chill wind, sharp with the scent of snow, swept through from the adjacent room.

Looking back in alarm, Wu saw that the windows of the study facing the courtyard had been flung wide open. Her heart tightened—she first thought some forgetful page or maid had failed to close them, and if the Crown Prince caught a chill after a night of wintry drafts, who could bear the blame?

She rushed to shut the windows, but before her hand touched the sill, she saw the Crown Prince himself standing in the wind and snow, wearing only thin robes.

Wu was aghast. “Your Highness, a heavy snow fell last night, the temperature has dropped—this will not do!”

The Crown Prince’s residence, Yonghui Tower, was a three-story duplex: study and reception on the first floor, bedchamber on the second, and a vast library on the third, where Fu Lanchen spent most of his time.

The second floor’s main chamber was flanked by two elegant anterooms for leisure and rest; beyond them, a corridor open to the elements, where wind and snow could sweep beneath the eaves.

Last night’s wintry mix had left the corridor thick with frost by morning.

Wu, in her distress, pleaded, but the Prince remained unmoved, his voice cold: “No need for alarm, Nurse Wu. I woke early today and felt the chill from outside, sensed it must have snowed. Indeed, it has.”

But Wu could not help her anxiety. Her voice shook. “Your Highness, please come inside and change your clothes!”

Only after a while did the Crown Prince stir. His handsome face betrayed no emotion as he spoke slowly: “Ah, this year’s snow and cold truly bring a chill to my heart.” His eyes grew colder still.

Turning, Fu Lanchen reentered the room. Wu let out a breath of relief and hastened to summon the waiting attendants to help the Prince wash and dress.

Crown Prince Fu Lanchen, only son of the Emperor and Empress, fifth child of the royal family, was but twenty-two. The Emperor had few children, and only one legitimate son remained—this alone set him apart.

But even this was no great matter to the seasoned servants of the palace; after all, every master in these halls was supremely noble.

Yet throughout Guangling, indeed all of Yi, everyone knew that Fu Lanchen was willful, moody, and contrary by nature—truly a “wayward son” of imperial blood.

For instance, Jiaxu Palace was never meant to be the heir's residence. Fu Lanchen, in a fit of pique, abandoned the splendid Donggong Palace and insisted on moving instead to Jiaxu. Jiaxu Palace had originally been called Nanhua Court, a prince’s estate left vacant for decades until Fu Lanchen took a liking to it, moved in without notice, and only informed the Emperor afterward.

Perhaps he had committed too many such defiant acts; after a public show of fury, the Emperor did not force him to return to Donggong, choosing instead to turn a blind eye.

As the attendants helped him change, the Crown Prince suddenly asked an unexpected question: “Nurse Wu, it snows today in Guangling—has spring come to the south as usual?”

The servants, startled, became even more cautious in their movements.

“Your Highness, it should have. The southern lands are not like ours; their climate is mild. Spring must have arrived some time ago,” Wu replied, bowing low.

“Are you from the south, Nurse?” Fu Lanchen asked, turning slightly.

“Yes, Your Highness. My home is in the watery villages of Jiangdong.” Wu’s heart fluttered that the Prince would recall her origins. She ventured timidly, “Is Your Highness longing for the south?” She vaguely remembered that years ago, Fu Lanchen had mentioned it—how beautiful Jiangdong was, with clear waters and green hills, and how he longed to see it for himself.

No reply came, so she wisely fell silent.

Jiangdong. Fu Lanchen repeated the name silently in his heart.

He had once promised another to ride south together, to see arching bridges over flowing streams, painted boats in the misty rain, grass growing, orioles singing, a city awash with blossoms, and beauty surpassing the flowers.

A poet once wrote: “On horseback, leaning by the arched bridge, red-sleeved girls beckon from every floor.”

Yet now, he was still trapped within these palace walls, unable to go anywhere, unwilling to go anywhere...

That person was gone. Alone, what meaning would it have to witness all the rivers and landscapes of the world? Even if a thousand charms awaited, with whom could he share them?

Just as the attendants finished dressing Fu Lanchen, an inner attendant arrived to announce: “Your Highness, the Empress requests your presence in the palace after you rise. There is a matter of importance to discuss.”

Fu Lanchen snorted, “What important matter? Isn’t it just about choosing a consort? How many portraits have I seen, how many noble daughters appraised? What kind of Crown Princess does my mother seek for me—a goddess from the heavens or the moon maiden herself?”

Though he asked, none of the attendants dared reply. They only bowed their heads lower, for it was clear the Prince’s patience was wearing thin.

“Enough. Let’s go to the palace.” With no answer, Fu Lanchen relented with resignation.

Nurse Wu hurried after him. “Your Highness, you haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“No need.” Fu Lanchen replied coldly and strode out.

Changqiu Palace was the residence of Empresses of Yi for generations.

“Your son greets you, Mother.” Fu Lanchen bowed, performing the rites to perfection.

Empress Song nodded gently. “No need for such ceremony. Have you had breakfast?”

“I have already eaten at home,” Fu Lanchen lied with practiced ease.

Of course, the Empress could see through her son, so she glanced at Wei Yuan, the attendant behind him.

Wei Yuan quickly affirmed, “The Crown Prince has indeed had breakfast.” He feared the Empress’s gaze, but feared Fu Lanchen more. After all, his life was pledged to his master.

Satisfied, the Empress let the matter drop. She gazed at her increasingly handsome son and sighed for reasons even she could not name. Fu Lanchen, though he heard her clearly, pretended not to notice.

At last, Empress Song spoke plainly: “My son, your marriage has troubled me so much these days I can neither eat nor sleep. My heart is heavy with worry.”

Fu Lanchen stifled his irritation. “Mother, I have said from the start there is no rush. You would not listen. I also said, as long as you are satisfied, I have no objection to any noble daughter you choose, yet still you are not content. You had so many portraits painted, and in the end, not one pleased you.”

A mother only wished for a daughter-in-law who would put her at ease and win her son’s approval. Yet the more indifferent Fu Lanchen became, the more she felt she was forcing his hand and feared she might choose wrongly, ruining his happiness for life.

Thus, though a hundred portraits had been reviewed, not one was deemed suitable.

“How can you speak so? Is it not all for your future happiness? Yet you show no gratitude,” the Empress said, dabbing at her eyes—whether from true sorrow or a speck of dust, who could tell.

Fu Lanchen was used to such tactics, but still tried to comfort her. “Mother, you need not lose sleep. If Guangling has no girls to your liking, the world is wide—you may search again, from Beiliao, Jiangdong, Xiliang, to Shunan. As Empress, you can summon any portrait you wish.”

At this, Empress Song brightened, her eyes lighting up. “You are right! If Guangling lacks a worthy match, surely in all the land a Crown Princess can be found.”

Fu Lanchen gave a chilly smile and threw a little cold water on her hopes. “Yet, Mother, while portraits are easy to come by, how many of those girls would truly wish to marry me? If not for the honor of the Crown Princess’s title, who would willingly enter the Eastern Palace?”

The Empress glared at her son as though he were a debtor come to collect, words dying in her throat, her heart in turmoil.

But he spoke the truth, and she could not deny it.

“Before Father ascended the throne, you were a prince’s consort, then Crown Princess, and you have lived here in Changqiu Palace for nearly twenty years. Has your life been easy, Mother?” Fu Lanchen’s tone was utterly cold. He had no wish to draw some innocent girl into these deep palace walls.

He knew all too well such a life was not easy. Born a son of the Emperor, he could not escape the royal yoke, trapped in palace halls, walking always on thin ice.

The Empress’s gaze darkened at the wound his words reopened. She managed a tearful smile. “Hard or not, I have lived it. To enjoy this honor, one must also endure the loneliness. Lanchen, one day, you will understand your mother’s sorrow.”