Chapter 027: Daydream Goddess

When Qin Chanyue led the Second Prince into the garden, the atmosphere was already lively.

Guests were playing pitch-pot games and composing verses, toasting and exchanging cups. Young ladies stood before flowers catching butterflies, while young gentlemen discussed poetry and sang songs, all thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Since the banquet was held in the garden, although men and women were seated separately, they still shared the same space. With so many people gathered, everyone gradually relaxed, and amidst casual conversations and playful banter, they would inevitably steal glances at the guests seated around.

Although the customs in Chang’an were relatively open, prominent families did not allow men and women to meet privately. Some households would arrange marriages directly through parents, not even allowing the husband and wife to see each other before the wedding. However, some more open-minded madams, unwilling to subject their sons and daughters to blind marriages, would specifically bring their children along during banquets to take a look.

The entire garden was filled with people from wealthy and noble families, all of comparable social standing, so there was no fear of anyone setting their sights on someone unsuitable and tarnishing the family’s reputation.

Thus, the children brought by the madams were all at that vibrant and lively age, arriving with hearts full of springtime longing. Some young gentlemen and ladies would gaze across the crowd in the garden, wondering which flower among the blooming branches was the most captivating.

Amidst this harmonious and joyful atmosphere, a sudden loud announcement came from outside the garden gate: “The Second Prince has arrived—”

This abrupt announcement was like pouring a basin of cold water onto burning charcoal. The previously fervent atmosphere abruptly cooled, and the garden fell silent. Eyes first turned toward the garden entrance with uncertainty and suspicion, then shifted with a hint of inquiry toward the host’s seat.

Due to their social standing, everyone in the garden was well aware of the rivalry between the Crown Prince and the Second Prince. Except for a few inexperienced youths and young ladies unfamiliar with the imperial court, everyone knew that the two had long been at odds, often engaging in sharp confrontations whenever they met. Where the Crown Prince was present, the Second Prince never appeared, and where the Second Prince went, the Crown Prince would avoid. Yet today, the two had gathered in the same place.

At the host’s seat, the Crown Prince sat upright and composed, leisurely picking up a fruit shaped like a lychee with two fingers.

He seemed to pay no attention to the gazes of all the guests in the garden.

At that moment, the Second Prince had already entered the garden.

The Second Prince, radiant and graceful, wore a white robe that resembled Kun jade and autumn frost. As soon as he entered from outside the garden, he smiled and said, “I have arrived late.”

The guests in the garden hurriedly rose to pay their respects.

After nodding with a smile, the Second Prince turned his gaze toward the Crown Prince, who remained seated without moving. His expression unchanged, he cupped his hands in salute and said, “Greetings to Your Highness, the Crown Prince.”

The Crown Prince merely nodded slowly, offering no words in return.

The coldness between these two brothers was not concealed in the slightest.

After the Second Prince instructed everyone to be seated, the guests hesitated.

The Second Prince’s status was only one rank below the Crown Prince, higher than everyone else in the garden. However, all the seats in the garden were already occupied. Now that the Second Prince had arrived, where should he sit?

At this critical moment, the Minister of Works, Zhou Ziji, stepped forward from his seat and smilingly guided the Second Prince, saying, “Your Highness has arrived just in time. I have just received an excellent poem at my table and would like to invite Your Highness to appreciate it together.”

Zhou Ziji was thirty-seven years old, elegant and refined, with features strikingly similar to Zhou Ziheng’s—nearly identical. If they were to wear white robes and walk side by side, their overlapping silhouettes in the light would surely cause confusion.

Zhou Ziji. The gazes of the crowd turned toward him, carrying a hint of realization.

Zhou Ziji was the elder brother of Zhongyi Marquis Zhou Ziheng, born of the same mother.

Qin Chanyue’s marital family, the Zhou family, had an elder who once served as an Imperial Guard and held a noble title. The old Marquis had two legitimate sons: the eldest, Zhou Ziji, and the second, Zhou Ziheng. Both were civil officials. By status, the title should have been passed to the eldest son, Zhou Ziji. However, Zhou Ziheng later married Qin Chanyue. At that time, the Empress Dowager favored Qin Chanyue, and the Emperor remembered the military achievements of the Qin Mansion. Thus, the title was biasedly granted to Zhou Ziheng.

Therefore, the title of Zhongyi Marquis was passed down from the Zhou family elder, skipping the eldest son and falling to the second son.

Qin Chanyue was not familiar with the Zhou family, but she had vaguely heard that the brothers Zhou Ziji and Zhou Ziheng had a rather ugly dispute over the title back then—just like the current Zhou Yuanting and Zhou Wenshan. In the face of immense power, some people inevitably change.

Later, however, as the Zhongyi Hou Mansion grew increasingly powerful, no matter how unwilling Zhou Ziji was, he had no choice but to endure and resume calling Zhou Ziheng his brother. Now, many years had passed, and it seemed he had already forgotten the past grievances.

Today, the Second Prince’s arrival suddenly brought some unforeseen troubles to the Houfu. As blood relatives behind the Zhongyi Marquis, the Zhou family naturally had to step forward. Zhou Ziji, as Zhou Ziheng’s elder brother, had to come out and smooth things over for his younger brother, leading the Second Prince to his own seat.

After all, they were family. Regardless of the hidden grievances, at the banquet, one must support their own kin. It was only natural for him to resolve the situation.

In the court, the Second Prince was most fond of poetry. While the Crown Prince was inseparable from military officials, the Second Prince mingled closely with civil officials, renowned for being “courteous to the wise and condescending to the scholarly” and “gentle and refined.” Compared to the aloof Crown Prince, he had more friends, ranging from the sons of officials to scholars who had yet to pass the imperial examinations. He had connections with everyone and could strike up a conversation with anyone. Zhou Ziji, who loved poetry the most, was said to have exchanged poems with him in the past.

Some also said that the Zhou family had placed their two sons on two different boats: the elder son befriended the Second Prince, while the younger son married Qin Chanyue, aligning with the military faction. This way, no matter whether the Crown Prince ascended the throne or the Second Prince later gained the upper hand, the Zhou family’s mountain would remain unshaken.

The Second Prince smiled and nodded in agreement, proceeding to Zhou Ziji’s seat.

Only then did the guests at the banquet gradually relax their tense nerves.

However, as the Second Prince and Zhou Ziji walked to the table and sat down, the maid behind the Second Prince stepped back one step at a time. In a turn, she hid behind the lush flower branches, and when one looked again, she was nowhere to be found.

Liu Yandai stomped her feet in frustration.

At this moment, seeing the Second Prince seated, Zhou Ziheng stood up from the side. Assuming the demeanor of the host, he raised his cup and addressed the crowd, delivering the usual pleasantries—welcoming everyone to the banquet and expressing his great honor.

Seeing her father-in-law speaking and everyone listening quietly, she seized the opportunity to approach her Pomu. Hurriedly pulling on her Pomu’s sleeve, she whispered, “Something terrible has happened, Pomu—”

Bai Yuning has slipped into the mansion!

Unexpectedly, before she could finish her sentence, Qin Chanyue grabbed her wrist and gave it a gentle twist.

Liu Yandai paused mid-sentence and saw Qin Chanyue’s striking face slowly turn back toward her. Her smile remained unchanged as she gazed calmly at Liu Yandai, just as she always did, and said, “Pomu has seen it. There’s no need to concern yourself.”

If even Liu Yandai had noticed, how could she have missed it?

But even though she had seen it, she hadn’t made a fuss. She had only quietly sent someone to follow and observe.

She had long known about the secret dealings between the Second Prince and Bai Yuning, though it had never been openly acknowledged. Today, with the Second Prince bringing Bai Yuning to the Houfu, there was certainly a reason behind it.

Exposing them now wouldn’t achieve much—it wouldn’t deliver a strong enough blow to the Second Prince and his allies. Better to go along with their plans and see what they intended to do.

After Zhou Chiye had been captured and brought back, Bai Yuning had vanished without a trace. Those sent to follow her had later failed to uncover her whereabouts. Now that Bai Yuning had reappeared, it meant they were growing desperate.

The Second Prince wanted to use Bai Yuning for something, which was why he had taken the risk of bringing her into the Houfu in this manner.

Out in the open, Liu Yandai might not have been able to grasp the hidden schemes between Bai Yuning and the Second Prince. But here, within Qin Chanyue’s domain, would Qin Chanyue still fear them?

Who would emerge victorious was yet to be seen.

The striking Madam turned back, her expression indifferent as she said, “Focus on enjoying the banquet. Don’t worry about anything else.”

Seeing that Pomu was aware of the situation, the tension in Liu Yandai’s heart gradually eased. She obediently stood by Pomu’s side—though she didn’t fully understand Pomu’s plans, she trusted that Pomu would not be wrong. All she needed to do was follow instructions.

After Zhou Ziheng offered his toast, everyone present drank together.

The crystal wine cups were emptied, then filled again with a splash of wine. In the corner, the ice vat had melted into water, only to be refilled with crushed ice. The banquet regained its lively atmosphere.

Every banquet followed a certain routine. During the feast, the invited Madams and Masters would sit and wait for the hosts to approach. The hosts would then go from table to table offering toasts—the male host attending to the men’s tables, the female host to the women’s tables. Meanwhile, the unmarried young masters and young ladies would stroll in the garden, each occupied with their own activities.

Thus, whenever the Houfu held a banquet, the three Zhou men would handle the men’s tables, while Qin Chanyue alone would offer toasts at the women’s tables. Today, however, she could bring Liu Yandai along with her.

As Qin Chanyue offered toasts, she carefully introduced Liu Yandai to the Madams at each table—the wife of the Provincial Governor, the wife of the Military Commander, the wife of the Minister of Personnel. Row after row, they were all Madams, each dignified and graceful, composed and gentle in demeanor. When they saw Liu Yandai, they greeted her with warm smiles.

Amidst this sea of blossoms, Liu Yandai found it impossible to remember who was who.

Liu Yandai had always been prone to timidity, and today, faced with so many people, she felt even more apprehensive. She stuck closely to Qin Chanyue, her face flushing slightly with nervousness.

The Madams teased her kindly, saying, “What a delicate little pastry.”

“Delicate little pastry” was a playful term for someone whose face was as thin as a freshly made pastry—easily bruised with a pinch. It was a lighthearted jest aimed at a young bride, carrying no malice.

As the mother-in-law and daughter-in-law made their way around two tables, moving from one to the next, Liu Yandai found herself lost in thought. In the past, others had told her that life in a prominent household was difficult. But today, it seemed to her that everything wasn’t as challenging as she had imagined. Pomu was kind, and the guests were all pleasant as well.

At that moment, the two of them had just arrived before a flower-adorned table when Liu Yandai’s thoughts began to surface. Suddenly, she heard a lady seated behind the table raise her voice and say with a cheerful laugh, “Oh, Lady Qin, you look quite radiant today! I heard the Marquis has recently taken two new concubines and even gained a teenage son out of thin air. The Houfu is flourishing with new branches—what a joyous occasion! Yet, I haven’t seen Lady Qin bring the newly arrived son out to meet everyone?”

Upon hearing these words, some of the other ladies at the table lowered their eyes and sipped their wine, pretending not to hear, while others covered their faces with round fans, watching as if it were a joke.

Indeed, who in this world didn’t know that Qin Chanyue forbade her husband from taking concubines? Who would have thought that not only concubines but even a son had now entered the household! Qin Chanyue had prided herself her entire life, only to now suffer a great fall. Those on good terms with her might refrain from mentioning it, but those who weren’t would surely take great delight in laughing at her.

Standing half a step behind Qin Chanyue, Liu Yandai felt a surge of anger rise within her upon hearing these sarcastic remarks, and she glared furiously in the direction of the speaker.

The lady speaking behind the table had a round face and round eyes, dressed in luxurious silk of a deep purple hue. She appeared to be in her thirties, her eyes lively when she smiled, and her demeanor seemed dignified. Yet her tone was dripping with sarcasm, and with just a few words, she had managed to infuriate Liu Yandai to the point of dizziness.

In ordinary households, who would dare say such things as “your husband has taken concubines” right in front of the principal wife? No woman would feel comfortable hearing such words, let alone Qin Chanyue.

Even before marrying into the Houfu, Liu Yandai had heard of Qin Chanyue’s reputation. Qin Chanyue was famously “jealous”—her refusal to allow her husband to take concubines was known throughout Chang’an. Yet, her father-in-law had recently taken not one but two concubines! Naturally, Qin Chanyue’s pride was wounded, and now this lady deliberately brought it up, making it all the more infuriating to hear.

But Liu Yandai was not quick with words. Though she was seething with anger, she couldn’t utter a single retort. This only made her angrier!

In contrast, Qin Chanyue beside her showed not a hint of anger. She even let out a soft, amused chuckle, waving her hand dismissively at the lady before saying, “If Lady Wan wishes to see, I can arrange for the concubine to host a banquet and invite you to her chambers for a proper look. After all, you also rose from being a concubine—you share the same background and surely have much to talk about.”

After Qin Chanyue finished speaking, Lady Wan’s expression stiffened slightly, and she gritted her teeth, refraining from further comment.

Qin Chanyue, however, remained composed. She toasted the other ladies at the table and then led the still-fuming Liu Yandai away from the banquet.

“There’s no need to get angry with them—just strike back,” Qin Chanyue said softly, her eyes smiling as she covered her crimson lips with a round fan, noticing Liu Yandai’s puffed-up cheeks. “I’ve long anticipated such remarks, so there’s no need to take them to heart.”

In matters between husband and wife, many things are inherently unclear. A woman’s dignity and virtue reflect her husband’s honor, just as a man’s respect and love for his wife reflect hers. If a woman falls short, her husband loses face and becomes the subject of ridicule among men; if a man falls short, his wife loses face and becomes the subject of ridicule among women. Therefore, from the moment Zhou Ziheng began keeping a woman outside, Qin Chanyue knew she had lost all face. Sooner or later, old adversaries would come to mock her. Having anticipated this many times, she felt no anger upon hearing it now. In fact, she even felt a faint thrill of excitement.

She was born with a restless nature, causing trouble everywhere in her youth. It was only after marrying and having children that she settled down. If others didn’t provoke her, she could find a quiet place to lie down peacefully. But today, since Lady Wan had stirred up trouble right in front of her, she couldn’t be blamed for retaliating later.

After all, she had the ability to strike back and wasn’t afraid of others coming after her—so, in this world, one must stand firm on their own. Men are not to be relied upon.

As she spoke, Qin Chanyue led her past a flowering tree and lowered her voice slightly. “That is the Second Prince’s aunt, the Imperial Consort Wan’s half-sister. She was originally married as a concubine, but after Imperial Consort Wan rose to power, she forced her husband to divorce his wife and elevated herself to the position of principal wife. She even caused her husband to be impeached—she hates nothing more than others mentioning her past as a concubine. Remember her identity. If you ever cross paths with her in the future, no matter what she says, she will surely try to harm you.”

After a pause, Qin Chanyue added, “If you’re truly angry, in a few days, Pomu will find a way to teach her a lesson and let you see it clearly.”

“Really?” Liu Yandai asked in surprise. “Is that possible?”

She wasn’t accustomed to the way these Madams maintained surface harmony while stabbing each other in the back. Even when this foolish child was angry, she would at most stomp her feet and curse a few words. She could never bring herself to drug her husband.

“Of course, anything can be done to her,” Qin Chanyue whispered. “Our Houfu and theirs are essentially adversaries, and it’s not just between the two of us.”

If it were other friendly families, even if there were conflicts between the Madams and daughters-in-law, they would have to tolerate each other, like Zhou Ziheng and Zhou Ziji. But their two families were not like that.

The reason Qin Chanyue and this Lady Wan didn’t get along was because the Qin family and Imperial Consort Wan were on bad terms. It was a deep-seated rivalry passed down from the roots, and whenever they met, they would exchange barbs. Qin Chanyue herself didn’t take it seriously, but Liu Yandai, who had never seen such scenes before, could easily be provoked into a rage by just a few words.

Hearing Qin Chanyue’s detailed explanation, Liu Yandai once again felt that the people here weren’t as good as she thought. She finally understood what “deep roots and abundant leaves” meant. Everyone in this garden was like leaves on branches, connected to various networks behind them. The person standing before you might seem like just one individual, but behind them were connections to many others.

This was only the tip of the iceberg.

It was all too complicated. The banquet had just begun, but Liu Yandai’s heart had already risen and fallen many times. She felt dizzy again.

And Qin Chanyue gave her no chance to sort things out on her own. She pulled this daughter-in-law, who had been thrust into the spotlight, and hurried toward the next table.

Among all the guests in the hall, one Lady Wan was nothing. Just wait and see!

As Qin Chanyue led Liu Yandai to engage with this group, the Second Prince’s Little Maid had already quietly slipped out of the garden.

With the banquet underway in the garden, the people in Houfu were so busy they barely had time to catch their breath. Even some maids from the young masters’ courtyards had been borrowed to help with the banquet, and the private soldiers were tightly patrolling the garden area. As a result, many parts of the estate were left somewhat empty. And this “Little Maid” was very familiar with Houfu, so she moved swiftly along the way, her thin gauze trailing behind her with each step, fluttering lightly as she went.

Too afraid to be seen, she dared not take the main paths, instead weaving through various landscapes—passing through bamboo groves, slipping between flower clusters. Finally, that sheer veil drifted and fluttered, drifting until it reached the vicinity of Jianming Courtyard.

Jianming Courtyard was situated in the northwest corner of the Houfu, where a grove of flowering trees had been planted. At this moment, the blossoms were in full, radiant bloom.

Among the vast stretches of verdant branches, large clusters of smoky-pink cotton rose hibiscus dotted the foliage. A breeze swept through, causing the flowering branches to sway gently in the wind.

Unlike the bustling and lively garden, Jianming Courtyard was unusually quiet today.

The small courtyard sat serenely deep within the sea of flowers, its eaves embraced by clusters of blossoms. Beneath the eaves, wind chimes swayed softly, enveloping the place in tranquility.

The young servants and maids of Jianming Courtyard had all been reassigned, leaving only a few elderly women gathered under the corridor eaves, sharing iced drinks—ice was a rare commodity, but with a banquet being held in the Houfu today, it was lavishly distributed. The women serving in the lower rooms had secretly skimmed some to savor as a treat.

The summer heat was oppressive, and with nothing to do, the old women huddled together, gossiping about affairs within the Houfu. Old and often compassionate, they spoke most frequently of the Second Young Master of this courtyard.

“If the banquet were held today, the Second Young Master should have attended if he were well.”

“I heard even the Crown Prince came. It seems the Crown Prince holds the Shizi in high regard.”

“What a pity the Second Young Master couldn’t go.”

“Ah—Madam is so heartless, not even coming to see the Second Young Master.”

“Has the Marquis not visited either?”

“The Marquis has been staying in Chixia Courtyard lately. If Aunt Xia is fortunate enough to bear a child, she’ll have something to rely on for the rest of her life.”

“What about… that one?” someone else whispered, lowering her voice.

“That one” referred to someone who must not be mentioned in the Houfu, though everyone knew who it was.

“That one?” someone sneered in reply. “They say he’s in a wheelchair. Yesterday, craftsmen were even summoned to install some kind of mechanized crossbow on it.”

The old women chattered on about the Houfu’s affairs, completely unaware that a figure had stealthily scaled the wall outside Jianming Courtyard, landing silently at the base of the rear courtyard wall. From there, it crept along the wall until it reached outside a window.

The side chamber facing due east had windows both at the front and the back—one could climb in from either side.

The windows of the side chamber were fitted with latches, making them impossible to push open from the outside. But it wasn’t particularly difficult either, as the windows had wooden lattice bars covered with sheer gauze. By tearing the gauze, one could reach a hand inside, undo the latch, unlock the wooden window, and then gently pull it open.

When faint rustling sounds came from outside the window, Zhou Chiye was lying on the couch inside the side chamber.

His clothes had long been removed, leaving only a simple xieku. His upper body was bare, save for a chain tightly fastened around his waist.

Hearing the noise, he opened his eyes groggily, wondering if he had misheard.

Had someone come?

He looked toward the door, seeing only a tightly shut inner room door. The beaded curtain hanging before it remained perfectly still, as if even the wind refused to enter his room.

No one had come to see him.

Or rather, it had been a long time since anyone had visited him.

Father had no time to see him, for he was busy enjoying himself with the newly arrived Aunt Xia. Mother had no time to see him, for she was busy visiting her adoptive brother at the Prince’s mansion. As for his elder brother—his elder brother wished him dead. As for the other concubines like Concubine Fang or Aunt Xia, they were merely maidservants, and he had no desire to see them either.

The only ones who came to see him daily were the servants in this courtyard. These servants were all accomplices of Zhongyi Marquis and Lady Qin. They were the hands of Zhongyi Marquis, firmly pressing him down here. They were the mouth of Lady Qin, repeatedly admonishing him: “Second Young Master is wrong. Second Young Master should humble himself before Madam.”

He refused to listen, overturning his meals, until gradually, even when these people came, they no longer spoke.

He could no longer even hear their voices.

Thus, his small courtyard stood empty, devoid of anything.

No, that wasn’t entirely true—he still had his pain.

The wound on his arm ached day after day, slowly, ever so slowly healing, but it was too slow. Moreover, the Doctor had told him his arm would never fully recover.

He had become a cripple, no different from that outside son Zhou Wenshan.

How could he accept such an outcome? He had once dreamed many dreams—galloping on horseback with the wind, swift as a shooting star, sweeping across the Twenty-Four Mountains of the Southern Borderlands. Each dream had been so vivid; he was meant to be a general living on the battlefield.

But now, he could no longer be. His right hand was ruined, unable to wield a sword or blade for the rest of his life.

And so, his dreams were ruined along with it.

With his life fallen to its lowest point, Zhou Chiye himself became muddled and confused. Lying on his bed, he began to harbor endless resentment toward this Houfu.

Why treat him this way?

Why drag him back?

Why lock him in this room?

Why make him a cripple?

All because he wouldn’t obey.

Because he wouldn’t obey!

Why wouldn’t he obey?

He was a person, not a puppet—he had his own thoughts! Yet his parents would rather cripple his very foundation than let him go, imprisoning him once more, using love as a blade to cut off his wings, turning him into a cripple who could never resist again!

He obeyed now!

He obeyed now!

He had become a cripple who could no longer obey! Were his parents satisfied? Were they satisfied!

The love he once held for his parents and family had long since turned to hatred in this suffocating resentment. The closer they had been, the more he had loved them, the more thoroughly he hated them now that they had turned against him.

Hatred was the shadow of love—the greater the love, the greater the hatred. When love and hatred became entangled, they transformed into something foul, sticky, and translucent, like some repulsive drool, silently churning.

This drool enveloped Zhou Chiye, seeping into his throat and nasal passages. He was forced to swallow this disgusting sludge, but when he lowered his head to retch, nothing came out.

This nausea lingered in his chest, filling his entire body. He couldn’t expel it; he could only endure it.

When Bai Yuning climbed in through the back window and tiptoed around the jade screen, this was the scene she witnessed.

The once tall, handsome, and vigorous young man, as agile and brave as an eagle, now lay on the bed with his wings broken. He had grown terribly thin, his brow furrowed with intense gloom. He looked as though he were on the verge of fading away, yet also as if he were merely clinging to life. A section of his ankle was exposed, withered like a vegetable sprout deprived of water.

With just one glance, Bai Yuning felt her heart twist in pain, so much so that she could hardly breathe.

Since her own downfall, her former friends had not lifted a finger to help, her fiancé had broken off their engagement to marry another, and even her relatives and elders had all turned their backs on her. Only Zhou Chiye had truly loved her after her fall from grace.

Zhou Chiye had been so good to her—fighting for her, running away for her, withdrawing all his savings just so she could live well. And she, too, had genuinely wished for Zhou Chiye’s happiness.

But now, seeing Zhou Chiye lying here like this—

Bai Yuning trembled as she approached, her voice soft as she called out to him, “Chiye—”

On the bed, Zhou Chiye, enduring boundless pain and resentment, slowly opened his eyes.

When he first opened his eyes, he thought he had taken too much medicine, his mind was hazy, and he was having a dream in broad daylight.

If it weren’t a dream, how could he see his goddess?

At this moment, Bai Yuning had already rushed to the bedside, carefully avoiding his arm, and reached out to stroke his face. Her tears fell with a “plop,” startling Zhou Chiye awake.

Suddenly, a glimmer of life shone in his dazed eyes. His lips trembled, but he couldn’t utter a single word. Instead, he nuzzled his cheek against hers.

Bai Yuning slowly and carefully leaned down, pressing the upper half of her body against his. She knew he had suffered all this for her.

Zhou Chiye didn’t know how she had come here. He only knew that when he was in the abyss, his goddess had come to see him.

Unable to speak, he could only hold her tightly against his chest.

They clung to each other intimately, like a pair of mandarin ducks with necks entwined. No words were needed; love naturally overflowed from their eyes. They kissed amidst the pain, desperately trying to merge into each other’s bodies. Their clothes flew away like the wings of a crane, and Zhou Chiye held her tightly. Bai Yuning wept in boundless longing, looking at him and saying, “I missed you so much.”

They surged along with the tide of passion, loving each other without formalities in places unknown to others. Anyone who knew they were together in this way would scorn them. Yet, under extreme rejection, the fiercest resistance would grow, and the purest love would emerge from the depths of hell. It washed over Zhou Chiye like a flood, leaving his mind blank. Only his body obeyed his heart, holding her even tighter.

It was only much later that he regained his senses from the shock of passion. Kissing Bai Yuning’s cheek in his arms, he asked her, “Did you disguise yourself as a maid to sneak in? Whose maid did you pretend to be?”

Having regained some composure, he naturally noticed the clothes on the floor—maid’s attire. With a little thought, he could guess how Bai Yuning had come.

She must have disguised herself as someone else’s maid, taking advantage of the chaos during the banquet and the crowd to slip in.

Bai Yuning, her face flushed, tightened her grip on his arm.

Before coming, she had thought through what she would do today many times. Initially, she had worried that Zhou Chiye might not agree, but now it seemed…

“I came with… a benefactor,” Bai Yuning said, leaning against Zhou Chiye’s shoulder. She trimmed some parts of her story, added others, and pieced together a complete tale for Zhou Chiye to hear.

A clever woman never tells a man the whole truth, even if the man loves her, and even if she loves him.

“Long ago, when my family, the Bai family, fell into hardship, a noble benefactor, who had ties with my parents from earlier years, helped me. That’s how I stayed in Chang’an and later entered the Houfu. The benefactor thought I was going to marry into the Houfu, so they stopped helping me afterward.”

“Later, when you were captured by the Houfu, I had nowhere to go and could only continue playing the zither. By chance, I met this benefactor again. Surprised, they asked me about my situation. With nothing to my name, my scars fully exposed, and no way to hide the past, I had no choice but to tell the truth.”

“The noble lady took pity on me and brought me in to see you.” After a pause, Bai Yuning moved closer to Zhou Chiye and said softly, “Chiye, I miss you so much. I want to return to the Houfu to see you every day. I have an idea—if you just do as I say, I can come back. Are you—are you willing?”

Zhou Chiye looked at her, his gaze intense, the deep affection in his eyes as if it could burn someone. He said, “Tell me.”

He was willing to do anything.

——

Bai Yuning stayed in Jianming Courtyard for about half an hour before climbing back over the wall the same way she came.

She arrived with a heavy heart but left feeling light and relaxed. She made her way back to the garden, keeping her head down and finding a secluded corner to sit in, avoiding drawing attention to her identity.

Fortunately, the banquet was crowded, and no one paid her any mind. She could even discreetly observe her surroundings.

At the moment, the banquet was lively. Qin Chanyue was moving through the women’s seating area with Liu Yandai, while Zhou Ziheng was engaged in conversation with Zhou Yuanting among the men. Bai Yuning’s gaze drifted through the crowd and past the floral arrangements, finally settling cautiously on the person at the very center of it all.

This person wore dark cyan robes, sitting upright behind a table, his expression cold and detached, his features sharp and resolute. He held a cup of clear wine, sipping it slowly. Though surrounded by the lively banquet, he exuded an exceptionally cold and imposing aura of authority, as if separating himself from the entire event. The more boisterous the surroundings, the quieter his presence seemed.

That was the Crown Prince.

Bai Yuning’s fingers slowly tightened around her robe.

She thought, is this the person the Second Prince has been scheming so hard to eliminate?

She didn’t dare look for too long, only glancing briefly before averting her gaze. But just as she did, she caught sight of a familiar figure.

The person had clearly dressed up for the occasion, sitting radiantly in a wheelchair, being pushed forward by someone behind them.

Bai Yuning raised an eyebrow subtly and looked more closely, realizing it was indeed Zhou Wenshan, with Concubine Fang pushing the wheelchair.

The mother and son both appeared meticulously dressed. Concubine Fang even wore light pink lip rouge. As they made their way along the gravel path, they drew quite a few curious glances.

Who were they? What were they doing here?

Bai Yuning thought in surprise, Zhou Wenshan, a useless cripple, doesn’t he feel embarrassed? Does he really intend to attend this banquet?