Dew yearns to become frost, the moon sinks into the mist.

It was late autumn; the clouds gathered thick in the sky, and the sunlight was dim and pale.

Beneath the palace eaves stood Fu Lancheng, his features cold and severe, his stature refined as jade. He wore a wide-sleeved brocade robe of rain-washed blue, and atop his head, an ancient silver traveling crown was tied. His bearing was elegant and graceful, possessing the charm of a distinguished gentleman in troubled times.

Xu Guiyi stepped forward. “Your Highness, I pay my respects.”

Fu Lancheng stood upon the steps, gazing coolly at his wife. “Did the Crown Princess come from the Xu residence?”

“Replying to Your Highness, I entered the palace today to see Mother, to discuss the matter of the autumn hunt.” Xu Guiyi rose gracefully, the tassels at her waist emitting a crisp, melodious sound as they collided. Fu Lancheng’s brows furrowed once more.

Xu Guiyi truly did not know how to win this deity’s favor; she simply gave up. “Is there something Your Highness wishes to instruct?”

Fu Lancheng’s eyes held a trace of hesitation as he scrutinized Xu Guiyi for a moment, his voice measured. “These days, Lord Cheng’en has attended court while ill. I hear he has requested leave from Father for the autumn hunt, so his illness must be serious. If you have time, you should pay him a visit—lest outsiders think our Eastern Palace is harsh to you.”

The first half of his words would have sufficed; the latter was entirely unnecessary.

Xu Guiyi bowed slightly again. “Thank you for Your Highness’s concern. However, with the autumn hunt approaching and affairs of the Eastern Palace overwhelming, I fear I have no leisure.”

She had actually long wished to visit Lord Cheng’en, her uncle, and after leaving the palace today, her carriage had arrived at the east gate of Zhuque Street. A single right turn would have brought her before the gates of Lord Cheng’en’s residence.

But she suppressed her impulse and ordered the coachman to turn back to the Eastern Palace. The thought brought a sense of grievance to her heart.

“Is it perhaps because of the Jiangdong case that the Crown Princess deliberately avoids suspicion, choosing not to visit Lord Cheng’en?” Fu Lancheng’s gaze was sharp as a blade.

After the Jiangdong affair, countless eyes watched every move of the Eastern Palace and the Xu family. At such a time, with interests entwined, Xu Guiyi, though uninvolved in state affairs, understood the significance.

She knew well the stakes, yet still felt her family utterly blameless—Xu Yan especially so.

Her lips curled in a cold smile, her voice neither loud nor soft. “Why ask what you already know?” The discontent in her tone startled Xiyue, who stood behind, her mouth agape.

Fu Lancheng had felt a hint of guilt, but no one had ever dared show such defiance before him. He glared in disbelief. “Are you blaming me?”

Another “Why ask what you already know?” nearly escaped her lips, but Xiyue quickly pulled at Xu Guiyi’s sleeve, speaking in a careful voice. “Your Highness, the lady is preoccupied with preparations for the autumn hunt, hence her reply was somewhat hasty. Please forgive her... Please, forgive her.”

Xu Guiyi pressed her lips tight, offering no explanation. Fu Lancheng, furious, strode away. For he could not deny that the Xu family’s troubles were indeed due to his involvement.

If Xu Yan were not the Crown Prince’s father-in-law, had nothing to do with the royal family, his upright record would have made this investigation a gleaming achievement.

“Your Highness, even if you bear resentment in your heart, you should not show it before the Crown Prince,” Xiyue said, still shaken.

Xu Guiyi replied indifferently, “Am I to swallow it all, let it rot inside and digest it myself?”

Xiyue shook her head. “Your Highness, it was Her Majesty who instructed you to avoid suspicion with the Xu family, not the Crown Prince. And besides, His Majesty dislikes the Crown Prince—none of this is his fault.”

So, whose fault was it then?

Xu Guiyi felt a moment of sullen frustration, said nothing, and returned to Chunhui Hall.

Two days later, Xu Guiyi went personally to Lord Cheng’en’s residence to inquire after his illness.

The Royal Horse Grounds sent several gentle, snow-white steeds to the Eastern Palace for the Crown Princess to select. The palace servants claimed it was at the Empress’s behest, but later, Xiyue overheard some stable hands whispering that the horses had been chosen by the Crown Prince himself.

On the eve of the autumn hunt’s departure, Xu Guiyi checked every detail one last time; all was meticulously prepared.

Yet calamity struck that very night.

At midnight, from the residence of Princess Roujia in the east of the city, came heart-wrenching cries that echoed long and unbroken.

Xu Guiyi remembered being awakened by Madam Wu in the middle of the night. She blinked sleepily, finding the hall suddenly ablaze with light and a crowd of palace attendants gathered outside the screens.

“Madam Wu, what has happened?” A premonition of dread welled in Xu Guiyi’s heart.

Madam Wu, sobbing quietly, replied, “Your Highness, the son of Princess Roujia—Fengchi... is gone...”

“What?!” Xu Guiyi cried out, tumbling from her ivory and jade bed, forcing herself upright to clutch Madam Wu’s hand. “You’re not lying to me, are you? How could this be?”

Madam Wu’s voice trembled. “I dare not deceive you, Your Highness. His Highness has already rushed to Princess Roujia’s residence. Young Master Fengchi is truly gone.”

“What about my little aunt—she’s still with child, isn’t she? How is she?” Xu Guiyi grew more frightened with every thought.

“I hear her grief was so great it disturbed her pregnancy. The imperial physicians have gone, but whether this child can be saved, it is unknown.” If not, to lose two children in a single night—who could bear such sorrow?

Xu Guiyi’s mind was filled with memories of the longevity banquet for Princess Qingyan. She had insisted, before all, on visiting her little aunt to see the children, and Princess Roujia had joyfully agreed.

But then events piled up—first Old Madam Cheng passed away, and at Lord Cheng’s residence, Xu Guiyi heard Princess Qi mention that the princess’s children had caught a cold and had not left the house.

Then, with the Jiangdong scandal erupting, Xu Guiyi forgot to send anyone to check on the princess. In Changqiu Palace, she heard the Empress say that Princess Roujia and her husband would not attend the autumn hunt: the princess was with child, and her husband needed to care for the ailing Fengchi.

Yet only days had passed, and now the child was gone.

In the dead of night, no one dared disturb the Emperor, but at dawn, the first news he heard chilled him to the bone and banished all trace of sleep.

Today was supposed to be the autumn hunt; the Crane Guard and Dragon Protection Division were fully prepared, officials and their families waiting outside Jiuhua Gate for the Emperor’s command.

But—

In Tai Ning Palace, the Empress, dressed in everyday attire, strode into the Emperor’s bedchamber without impediment. Only at such times did the Emperor disregard protocol and allow the Empress her “impudence.”

“Your Majesty, all the courts and routes are ready. Shall the autumn hunt proceed? Please decide.” The Empress wore a thin layer of makeup, yet her face looked worn and haggard; clearly, she had not slept.

The Emperor looked at his longtime wife, eyes unfocused. “Have all the imperial physicians gone?” He meant Princess Roujia’s residence.

The Empress hurried forward, taking the Emperor’s hand gently. “Last night, the Crown Prince led the physicians there. This morning, I received news and ordered all the palace doctors to go as well. But... the child in the princess’s womb could not be saved.”

At her words, the Emperor was silent for a long while, then raised his head and closed his eyes tightly; a tear seemed to slip from the corner of his eye. With sorrow, he said, “Roujia is a tragic soul. I failed to care for her, and am ashamed before Father, and Lady Zhao.”

The Empress herself wept, grief-stricken. “Your Majesty, do not blame yourself. It is Heaven’s blindness that brought this calamity upon Roujia. Fengchi was such a good child, so young, and now he leaves us behind.”

Seeing his wife’s sorrow, the Emperor’s heart was moved to compassion; he stepped forward and embraced her.

The Empress clung to his arm, crying even harder. “Your Majesty, Fengchi was only ten this year. Do you remember? Our Huan’er, the year he passed, was ten as well... Your Majesty, I can never forget our Huan’er, our first child...”

Thinking of his firstborn, who died young, the Emperor was deeply moved; his eyes reddened, and he held the Empress tightly, choking back tears. “Zitong, I will never forget Huan’er. He was clever and filial, forever my eldest son.”

For a time, the imperial couple wept together, while the palace attendants outside stood frozen, none daring to enter and break the sorrowful atmosphere.

Only Lady Nangong, the favored concubine, hurried forward, pale and anxious, demanding to see the Emperor. She was stopped by Eunuch Yuanhe. “Your Ladyship, the Empress is inside; it is not a good time to intrude.”

Lady Nangong had already been devastated by the news of Princess Roujia’s double loss, and Yuanhe’s words only deepened her grief, making her tone sharp. “Yuanhe, who are you to bar my way?”

Yuanhe dared not offend her, bowing quickly. “Your Ladyship, forgive me. It’s not my place to stop you. But...”

But the imperial couple’s tears were so overwhelming that to intrude now would bring her no favor.

Lady Nangong’s brows arched in anger. “So the Empress can enter Tai Ning Palace, but I cannot? I have been favored for decades; when have I ever suffered such humiliation?”

Yuanhe sighed inwardly, torn. “Your Ladyship, the Emperor and Empress are mourning young Lord Fengchi. If you would just—” Yuanhe was shrewd; seeing he could not stop Lady Nangong, he bowed and moved aside, calculating that if she forced her way in and disturbed the imperial couple, the Emperor would not blame him.

Indeed, Lady Nangong swept aside Yuanhe with her sleeve, sending him sprawling, then strode into the inner hall.

Yet after only a few steps, she halted, listened to the cries within, and silently withdrew from Tai Ning Palace. Though she no longer troubled the attendants, her expression grew even more grim.

A quarter hour later, the Emperor summoned Yuanhe to Tai Ning Palace.

Not long after, the civil and military officials received word: the Emperor’s health was impaired, and the autumn hunt was suspended.