Over the years, news and messages should not be severed.

The attendants of Chunhui Hall were in a flurry, leaving only Xu Guiyi and Xiyue inside. Xu Guiyi rolled up her trouser legs and looked at the swollen, reddened area around her knee; her calf had gone completely numb.

Xiyue saw it too, quietly sobbing, “Miss.” The little maid was always like this—whenever she was wronged, she would cling to Xu Guiyi and call her “Miss.”

“Stop crying now. Your Miss isn’t some fragile willow that can’t withstand a gust of wind or a bit of sun. Be good, don’t cry, I’m fine,” Xu Guiyi comforted her gently.

Xiyue wiped her nose and tears, and, true to her resilient nature, stopped crying.

“Miss, does it hurt a lot?”

Xu Guiyi’s smiling face wrinkled as she half-cried, “It hurts, it hurts terribly.” Back in Lan Prefecture, she had never suffered such torment.

Xiyue leaned in and gently blew on the swollen injury, her eyes full of sorrow.

“Xiyue, pass down my orders: say I’ve fallen seriously ill and must rest in bed for half a month. I can’t labor during this time; let Madam Wu handle the affairs of the Eastern Palace. Also, I need peace and quiet—no visitors,” Xu Guiyi said, lifting her chin with resolve.

Xiyue nodded, then remembered, “But the Imperial Physician will come soon…”

Xu Guiyi sneered, “I have my own way.” With her knee so badly swollen, she couldn’t leave her bed anyway. Besides, Cold Spring Court was damp and chilly, the wind and cold had entered her body, her cough was relentless, and it had triggered gout—was that not the perfect excuse?

Bamboo reflected autumn’s silhouette; the rain of osmanthus blossoms grew heavier.

Xu Guiyi had a Xiangfei couch moved beneath the Langyuan, and a huanghuali wood desk inlaid with jade placed beside it. Sneezing as she breathed in the fragrance of osmanthus, she wrote a letter to Xu Xiao Qi.

When Xiyue brought tea and pastries, she glanced—pretending it was unintentional—at the Crown Princess, who was complaining about the thin autumn wind and the overwhelming fragrance of osmanthus.

“…Xiao Qi, let me tell you, there isn’t a single osmanthus tree in the Eastern Palace, but Chunhui Hall is filled with the scent of osmanthus, which has drowned out the aroma of the suhe incense I brought from home, causing me to sneeze constantly…”

“Achoo!”

Seeing Xu Guiyi frowning, sneezing all morning, the attendants felt both afraid and amused.

After half an hour, Xu Guiyi finally finished writing her homesick thoughts, put down her pure-colored brush, carefully checked ten or so sheets of white xuan paper, and, seeing nothing amiss, gathered them together and handed them to Xiyue. “Xiyue, tomorrow… no, take them this afternoon.”

“Alright!” Xiyue replied cheerfully, smoothing out the corners for her.

“The autumn in Guangling is truly wonderful—clear skies, gentle breezes. Only the scent of osmanthus is too strong for me to bear,” Xu Guiyi said, though inwardly she considered moving back to her room and closing the windows, hoping the fragrance might be less intense.

She was about to call someone when Madam Wu arrived, leading four attendants, striding hurriedly toward her; their expressions were not those of people dealing with trivial matters.

Xu Guiyi immediately sat up straight, tidied her collar, smoothed the stray hairs at her temples and the ornaments in her cloud bun, adjusted the earring on her right ear, and spoke clearly, “Madam Wu, what brings you in such haste?”

Madam Wu quickly curtsied, and the others followed suit. Her voice, usually calm, was now urgent: “Crown Princess, Old Lady Cheng… has passed away…”

In an instant, everyone’s gaze turned astonished, then shifted as one to Xu Guiyi, their mistress.

“How… did she pass?” Xu Guiyi had thought she wouldn’t feel pain, but sorrow surged uncontrollably.

“Half an hour ago, illness took her. Lady Cheng…” Madam Wu’s lips trembled, her brows and lashes quivered.

Lady Cheng had gone to the Cheng household two days prior—Xu Guiyi knew this. That day, Cheng Hewei came to Chunhui Hall to bid farewell before leaving the palace, but since Xu Guiyi refused to see anyone, she could only pay her respects outside.

Xu Guiyi lowered her lashes, her expression solemn. She extended her right hand, and Xiyue quickly moved to support her as she slowly got down from the Xiangfei couch.

“Crown Princess, mind your knee!” Madam Wu cried anxiously.

Xu Guiyi glanced at her knee. “It’s fine, nearly healed.” It turned out, the sorrow filling her heart was what washed away the scent of osmanthus.

The next morning, Xu Guiyi changed into plain, simple mourning clothes, took Lu Zhirou with her, and prepared to set out for the Cheng household.

“Where is the Crown Prince?” Xu Guiyi’s gaze was sharp as she looked at the guards of Yonghui Tower, exuding an air of authority.

The lead guard bowed. “Reporting to the Crown Princess, His Highness left the residence a quarter hour ago, likely heading to the Cheng household as well.”

Silence—heavy silence.

Xu Guiyi said nothing, but Lu Zhirou nervously shifted her gaze, furtively studying Xu Guiyi’s expression, feeling uneasy.

“We agreed yesterday to go to the Cheng household together,” Xu Guiyi said bitterly in the carriage. She herself had been punished to kneel for two hours and hadn’t held a grudge, yet he, a grown man, was still sulking.

Lu Zhirou, gentle in both appearance and manner, replied softly, though her gaze was somewhat dim, “His Highness dislikes us. Naturally, he wouldn’t want to travel together.”

Xu Guiyi looked at her, wanting to ask a question she’d long kept in her heart, but her lips moved several times and she refrained.

With a father who served as Chief Secretary, why would she risk getting entangled in the Eastern Palace’s troubles?

Were it not for her own ambitions, Xu Guiyi would never have set foot in the Eastern Palace.

But none of this could be spoken, only left to fester within.

Composing herself, Xu Guiyi looked to Lu Zhirou. “You grew up in Guangling; surely you often saw Old Lady Cheng?”

The Lu family, neighbors to the southern palace aristocrats, were a renowned household in Guangling. As the legitimate daughter, Lu Zhirou must have known many people.

Lu Zhirou shook her head gently. “Many years ago, I saw her once at an old lady’s birthday celebration, but never again. Crown Princess may not know—my mother is my father’s second wife. After giving birth to me, she feared accusations of favoritism toward her own child and neglecting those of the first wife, so for years, she only brought my elder sister to any gatherings. Only that one time, because my birthday coincided, she brought me along.”

Xu Guiyi was surprised to hear her share this, and simply patted her shoulder, speaking softly, “It’s hard enough for women in this world, even more so once married. As children, we should be understanding toward our parents.”

Lu Zhirou smiled bitterly. “It’s fine. I’ve gotten used to it over the years.”

“Zhirou, don’t be sad.” After a pause and much searching for words, Xu Guiyi managed only a few. Comforting others was not her forte.

Xu Guiyi and Lu Zhirou alighted. At the entrance of the Cheng household, many family members were already waiting.

Inside the mourning hall, after Xu Guiyi performed the three rites, a middle-aged man in mourning clothes—bearing a resemblance to Cheng Hewei—stepped forward and cupped his hands. “Crown Princess, Ah Wei fainted from grief and was escorted by the Crown Prince to rest in her room.”

“Has the Imperial Physician been summoned?” Xu Guiyi asked in alarm.

“The Crown Prince has already sent someone,” the man replied. His face was haggard, with deep shadows around his eyes—the pain of losing one’s mother is said to cut to the bone, yet his reply was composed.

Xu Guiyi nodded slightly. At that moment, a cool male voice rang out, “Has the Duke of Cheng not returned yet?”

“Greetings, Your Highness.” Amid the atmosphere of mourning, a hush of solemnity settled.

The man responded promptly, “Reporting to Your Highness, two days ago riders were sent at full speed to Chetlan City. The fourth brother received the letter today and will hurry back. He should arrive in time to see Old Lady Cheng one last time.”

Fu Lanchen seemed dissatisfied with this answer, his gaze sweeping the crowd, expression a mix of arrogance and indifference.

Just then, a servant ran in, “Second Master, Third Master, the heir of Prince Huai has arrived.” Cheng Jingwen and Cheng Jingyuan exchanged glances and personally went to receive the guest.

Soon, more friends and relatives arrived to pay their respects, and Xu Guiyi and Fu Lanchen were shown to a side hall to rest.

“Your Highness, please have some tea.” Lu Zhirou watched as the Crown Prince and Crown Princess sat separately, she herself carefully offering Fu Lanchen a cup at Madam’s signal.

She then handed Xu Guiyi a cup. “Crown Princess, please have some tea.”

Fu Lanchen took the cup and drank without looking up.

Xu Guiyi placed her cup aside, at least offering a “thank you.”

The couple, truly… equally stubborn.

At noon, they visited the revived Cheng Hewei. Xu Guiyi and Lu Zhirou comforted her for a long while and fed her some ginseng soup.

She insisted on returning to the mourning hall to keep vigil; Xu Guiyi couldn’t deter her and accompanied her for nearly half an hour. Then a maid came forward, saying the time was right—they should return to the Eastern Palace.

Xu Guiyi looked back several times, worried about Cheng Hewei, and Lu Zhirou, afraid she might stumble, kept a hand on her arm.

“Crown Princess, His Highness awaits us ahead,” Lu Zhirou whispered in her ear.

Xu Guiyi looked up and, indeed, saw Fu Lanchen standing by the carriage, clearly waiting for them. The two hurried their steps, not daring to keep him waiting.

Today, Xu Guiyi realized that not only she but also Lu Zhirou was deeply intimidated by Fu Lanchen.

When they emerged, Fu Lanchen’s expression was unchanged—he boarded his own carriage directly.

Xu Guiyi and Lu Zhirou got into the smaller carriage behind.

“I didn’t expect His Highness to wait for us,” Lu Zhirou said, still incredulous.

“Nor did I,” Xu Guiyi replied, but soon the carriage stopped. She drew aside the curtain and asked, “What’s happened?”

Xiyue leaned in quietly. “His Highness ordered a halt; I don’t know the reason.”

Xu Guiyi looked at Lu Zhirou in confusion. Lu Zhirou shook her head to indicate she knew even less, but then peered outside.

“What are you looking at? It’s been so long,” Xu Guiyi asked curiously.

Lu Zhirou turned back, her face a little grave. She opened the curtain and pointed toward the corner of the street, “Crown Princess, look over there—that is… the former residence of Marquis Wu Jing.”

Xu Guiyi’s gaze flickered, her voice dry, “Whose residence did you say?”

Lu Zhirou cleared her throat and spoke distinctly, “The old residence of the Pei family, Marquis Wu Jing. I once attended a banquet there. But it’s been sealed for years—completely abandoned.”