Alas, how cheap and fleeting this beautiful time appears.

As Xu Guiyi and her entourage approached the waterside pavilion of Nangong Yuzhen, they could already hear her hysterical shouts.

“Fu Jingchu, you promised that I would be your only one for life. And now, just a few years later, there’s the brothel, then that woman from the Qu family, and now even a lowly opera singer you keep from me…”

“What did you promise me back then? You said she had already left Guangling and would never return in this lifetime…”

“But what now? Why is she in my home? Is it because you’ve long been meeting in secret, having clandestine affairs…”

Every word was biting and harsh—hard to believe such vulgarities could come from a young lady brought up in a venerable family.

“Crown Princess…” Lu Zhirou shrank back, hesitantly whispering behind her.

Xu Guiyi frowned, at a loss as to what to do, and was just about to turn away when suddenly she heard the voice of Prince An…

“Yes, we’ve long had an affair. So what of it? It was you who insisted on marrying me…”

Was he simply giving up and lashing out?

“Nangong Yuzhen, you know full well, your whole family knows full well, just why I married you all those years ago…”

“If not for your schemes, would I ever have taken you as my wife…” Though bitter with resentment, Prince An’s words were also cruel.

A loud slap rang out—who it landed on was unclear.

“Nangong Yuzhen!” Prince An’s furious roar gave it away—it must have been Princess An who struck him.

It was all too chaotic… Xu Guiyi just wanted to flee this scene of discord. As she was halfway gone, she saw Nangong Mingchen leading a few servants their way.

“Greetings, Crown Princess, esteemed ladies,” he said, bowing with a weary tone.

Xu Guiyi nodded slightly, suddenly recalling she had something to say to Nangong Mingchen. She told Cheng Hewei and Lu Zhirou, “You two go ahead and wait for me up front. I have some instructions for Lord Gongmin.”

Once the two ladies had gone on, Nangong Mingchen dismissed his attendants as well, leaving only himself and Xu Guiyi behind the dense shrubbery.

“Today’s events were abrupt. I fear the Crown Princess must find our family laughable,” Nangong Mingchen said apologetically with a smile.

Xu Guiyi calmed herself, quietly replying, “My lord, you bear the burden of assisting the Duke of Ningdu with all the affairs of the household. It is truly a laborious task.”

At her words, Nangong Mingchen straightened his back, resuming his usual gentle and upright bearing. “It’s only some family matters, nothing worth mentioning. Did Your Highness come to visit Princess An today?”

Xu Guiyi smoothed her sleeves and gave a slow nod. To tell the truth, she could never quite understand why Nangong Yuzhen had been so insistent on marrying Fu Jingchu all those years ago.

One was the legitimate daughter of the Duke of Ningdu, well loved by her family and imperial consort; the other, a prince orphaned young, with little support, known for his wanton ways.

Xu Guiyi forced a smile. “I simply can’t fathom why the Nangong family would have their daughter marry such a notorious libertine.”

Nangong Mingchen raised his brow, the corners of his mouth curving faintly. “Thank you for thinking so highly of us, Your Highness. But this marriage was hardly a case of lowering herself; both parties were willing, that’s all.” He was always able to speak the coldest truths with the gentlest face.

Xu Guiyi pondered for a moment, but still could not grasp the deeper meaning.

Nangong Mingchen had to spell it out: “Doesn’t Your Highness think that Prince An and the Crown Prince are very much alike?”

Alike…? One was cold and detached, the other passionate; one abrasive, the other smooth and gentle; one unapproachable, the other amorous and charming. In what way were they alike?

Xu Guiyi felt a bit embarrassed. “They are cousins, after all. Resemblance is only natural.”

Nangong Mingchen did not pursue the subject further but asked, “If Your Highness truly wishes to know, I can explain in detail another day, should time permit.”

At that, Xu Guiyi hurriedly waved her hand. “Lord Mingchen, you are busy enough. Don’t trouble yourself for my sake. Besides, these are private matters of the Ningdu and An households. I may be young, but I know where to draw the line.” Any curiosity could be satisfied once she left the duke’s residence.

Nangong Mingchen’s smile grew colder; he said no more, lest he drive Xu Guiyi away.

Xu Guiyi pulled two books from her wide sleeve, carefully smoothing their corners before handing them to Nangong Mingchen.

“These are the scriptures that Qianqian… once copied for you, Brother Mingchen. They were placed in the temple for forty-nine weeks and seven days. Qianqian… wishes Brother Mingchen peace, good fortune, and a tranquil life.” Her voice was clear, but a faint ache lingered in her heart.

When Nangong Mingchen saw the handwriting on the covers, he froze, his handsome features losing all color.

He had never expected her to take to heart a casual remark from years ago. Yet she had painstakingly copied the entire Sutra of Kṣitigarbha’s Original Vows for him—both volumes, not a single word missing.

He hesitated, not reaching for them, so Xu Guiyi had to take his sleeve and firmly place the books in his hand.

“These have sat at the bottom of my chest for years. At last I can give them to you. Lord Gongmin… take good care of them.” Her words were gentle, but earnest.

These were the summer’s work, copied by Qianqian for her dearest Brother Mingchen, the sentiment she meant to convey. Having taken on Qianqian’s identity, Xu Guiyi felt it right to fulfill this intention.

After she spoke, Nangong Mingchen stood as if spellbound, failing even to bow as Xu Guiyi left, his gaze unmoving.

The west wind brings tears to wayfarers; the bright moon remains in the heart of old friends.

When Xu Guiyi and her companions returned to the main hall, the birthday banquet had resumed, the atmosphere restored to its former ease. Amidst the clinking of cups and laughter, a new opera was being performed on stage.

After they were seated, the Duchess of Ningdu herself came over to apologize, pouring new wine and serving new dishes for Xu Guiyi, and exchanging pleasantries with Cheng Hewei and Lu Zhirou. Everyone pretended nothing had happened, eating and drinking while enjoying the opera.

Linked jade, brocade in repeating patterns, two entwined. The new play reached the lines: “…morning clouds fly, evening mists gather, painted boats on misty waves, the one behind the brocade screen gazes on as the fleeting spring is wasted…” The melody was gentle and lingering, full of tender emotion, the singer performing with longing, the listeners moved to tears—a truly excellent show.

Applause rang out from the guests, but only the Duke and Duchess of Ningdu remained silent, wearing polite smiles.

After about the time it takes a stick of incense to burn, the opera ended. The troupe leader led his performers to offer birthday greetings from a distance before making their exit, never to be summoned for questioning again.

Princess De, unwilling to let the atmosphere grow cold, forced a smile. “Miss Xuan of the Xichun Troupe still sings with that ethereal, exquisite tone—truly remarkable.” The others chimed in with a few remarks, but conversation was sparse.

When the banquet ended and Xu Guiyi stepped out through the gates of the Ningdu Mansion, dusk had already fallen. Yet after sitting indoors for so long, the sudden sight of sunlight breaking through felt dazzling, as if the world had been split apart and all the light poured into her eyes.

Behind her, Prince De, supported by Princess De, was also leaving. He gazed at the sky and softly recited a line from the opera: “Morning clouds fly, evening mists gather, painted boats on misty waves…” The one behind the brocade screen gazes on as the fleeting spring is wasted.

The meaning of the lines spoke of spring’s prime, yet now it was early winter. Xu Guiyi was unsure what Prince De meant, but heard him say to Princess De, “My lady, I remember the day Ah Shen was wed—it was a sunny spring day, flowers in full bloom.”

“Just like our own wedding. Back then, we hoped with all our hearts that he and his bride would have a joyful, lasting marriage, growing in affection as we had. Who could have foreseen today’s outcome? My lady… was it our mistake in the first place?”

Hearing this, Princess De could no longer hold back her tears, as if her heart had been pierced, leaving her speechless with pain.

They had been married many years, blessed with only a single daughter by a concubine. Later, the Emperor entrusted Fu Shen to their care, and they had raised him as their own son, cherishing him with all their hearts. Though not their flesh and blood, he’d been closer to them than any child could be.

When Fu Shen wished to marry Nangong Yuzhen, Prince De had actually been against it, but Princess De persuaded him for a month before he reluctantly agreed. If she had known then that the couple would become such bitter foes, she would never have consented, no matter the pressure from the Emperor or the imperial consort.

Upon returning to the Eastern Palace, Xu Guiyi went to the Yonghui Tower to tell Fu Lancheng all that had happened at the Ningdu Mansion. Fu Lancheng, tapping his fingers, seemed lost in thought.

Ever since Fu Lancheng had been confined to the Eastern Palace, Xu Guiyi worried he might bottle up his troubles, so she risked being sent away daily just to chat with him.

At first, he really did send her away each day. Eventually, perhaps out of exhaustion, he let her come and go as she pleased—even when she rummaged through his collections and books, he rarely got truly angry, only glaring at her a few times before letting it go.

After more than two years of marriage, they had finally learned how to live under the same roof.

“Did you just say… a woman disguised as a man?” After a moment’s silence, Fu Lancheng asked, though was this really the point? The real issue was that Prince An and his wife had a huge quarrel over it.

Xu Guiyi sighed, trying to clarify, “Not just a woman dressing as a man—a woman playing the role of a military officer on stage.”

But Fu Lancheng, caught up in his own thoughts, raised his voice, “Isn’t that the same thing?”

Well, yes, but… “Though both are women in men’s attire, today it was on stage. That’s different from real life.”

“The human heart is complicated; the drama offstage is far more tangled than the one on it.” Fu Lancheng stood up and walked to her side, his gaze intense enough to make her uneasy.

“Your Highness, did I say something wrong?” Xu Guiyi felt his stare was unsettling and couldn’t help but draw a sharp breath.

She thought he might admonish her, but unexpectedly, he smiled. “My aunt said she wants to arrange for A Yu and the Miss from the Song family to marry soon. Does the Crown Princess think it should be delayed?” But that smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Xu Guiyi lowered her lashes. “Your Highness fears the heir might, in haste, end up in Prince An’s predicament?”

Fu Lancheng neither confirmed nor denied it. But Xu Guiyi knew he cared for Shen Yu more than any other brother by blood. People are always inconsistent—he could be indifferent to others’ misfortune but couldn’t bear to see his own brother suffer even a little.

Fu Lancheng sipped his tea. “Though royal marriages happen early, Prince An and Princess An have been married for years and only have one daughter. You know well enough how their relationship has been.”

“Since their marriage has been so troubled, why was the match approved in the first place?” Xu Guiyi decided to ask him directly, finding it more straightforward.