In this world, daughters often endure much sorrow and hardship.

When she did not need to enter the palace, Xu Guiyi’s attire in the Eastern Palace was always simple. Her long hair was half gathered into a graceful bun adorned on each side with a delicate nine-colored jeweled hairpin of gold. She wore a rose-hued, gauzy, gold-embroidered gown, with little in the way of extravagant decoration.

She stood alone in Lengquan Court, gazing at the peach trees that heralded spring. Amidst the branches, a sparse scattering of pale blossoms clung, their color faint and subtle. Xu Guiyi could not help recalling the spring scenery of Jiangdong—where flowers blazed red, willows swayed green, and the river’s water warmed with the season. She ached with longing for that world...

It was upon this scene that Fu Lancheng entered the inner courtyard: sunlight poured through the March sky, bathing a tree heavy with splendid peach blossoms, and standing before it, his Crown Princess. Xu Guiyi had stood quietly for a long while, lost in thought—so deeply absorbed that she did not notice his arrival.

He had originally come seeking her to discuss some matter, but faced with such a garden in full spring, and the beauty of his beloved swaying amid the blossoms, he found he could not bear to disturb her. So he waited silently behind her, content to linger until she had had her fill of viewing the peach flowers, and only then would he let her notice him.

She did not know how much time had passed before a spring breeze brushed her cheek, bringing a trace of chill that roused her from her reverie. She turned and saw Fu Lancheng standing beneath the vast blue sky: tall and elegant, features striking and radiant, shining like a jade tree in a forest of jewels.

They stood facing each other, neither too near nor far, gazing in silence. For a long moment, neither spoke. At last, Xu Guiyi broke the stillness, walking toward Fu Lancheng as he, too, stepped forward. She did not know how long he had stood there; she suppressed the pounding of her heart, feigning composure as she said, “Greetings, Your Highness. When did you arrive? Why did you not announce yourself?”

A smile warmed the lines of Fu Lancheng’s face as he replied, “Is it that the Crown Princess finds viewing peach blossoms more delightful than seeing me?”

Xu Guiyi held her breath, momentarily at a loss for words, and managed a sheepish smile. “Your Highness is teasing me.”

But Fu Lancheng bore no intention to mock her; his tone softened, “It’s only a tree of peach blossoms—what harm in that? As long as you are pleased, that is all that matters.” When he finished, his eyes were full of spring’s warmth. Xu Guiyi’s heart surged with emotion—had he truly just said, as long as she was pleased?

…To be pleased.

How long had it been since she’d remembered such a word existed in her life? Countless feelings flooded her heart like rushing rivers, leaving her shaken and disordered. Her eyes grew moist, and she had to lower her lashes, afraid to look at Fu Lancheng any longer.

“Your Highness, is there something you wished to discuss with me?” Her voice was low.

His gaze followed the sweep of her lashes as they fell. After a pause, he spoke, “After my uncle’s wedding, he will remain in Guangling. Father intends for me to temporarily take charge of the western borders.”

The Marquis of Changping’s wedding was set for late March—no wonder Fu Lancheng had been frequently visiting either the Marquis’s residence or the Zhuque Camp outside the city these past days.

The words startled Xu Guiyi; she raised her eyes to him, a hint of tension in her voice. “There are many fine generals in the court. Must Your Highness be the one to go to the west?” She could not help but resent the emperor’s decision—surely there was no need to dispatch the heir apparent merely to curtail the Song family’s military power?

The truth was, the emperor’s suspicious nature made him wary of anyone with control over the army, and Fu Lancheng had long been out of favor. If he were to leave for the west, even the slightest misstep could make their days in the Eastern Palace even harder.

A fleeting, bitter smile crossed Fu Lancheng’s face. He sighed quietly. “My uncle has managed the western front for many years, but now that my father has confined him to the capital, unless I go myself, my father will not find peace.”

Looking at Fu Lancheng, who strove so hard to maintain composure, Xu Guiyi was overwhelmed with mixed feelings. Who said the Crown Prince was aimless and lacking ambition? He understood better than anyone his father’s suspicions, the coldness of imperial power. The more he understood, the more he recoiled—yet after all this resistance, he still could not escape. It was heartbreaking.

“Then allow me to wish Your Highness a safe journey and a swift return.” She had countless things she wanted to say to Fu Lancheng, yet every time the words reached her lips, she remembered how powerless she was to tell him. As she watched him leave, she nearly called out to him, wanting to tell him all that An Ruosu had revealed to her today.

“My father once served in the palace as a chronicler. Because of a single remark, he offended His Majesty, lost his post, and was exiled. Our entire family was imprisoned—it was the Crown Prince who saved us.”

She had been stunned then, not knowing why An Ruosu had suddenly begun to recount her family’s history, but after a moment asked, “What did your father say that angered the emperor?”

An Ruosu’s gaze was mournful, her hands twisting a handkerchief as she answered timidly, “I do not know the specifics. I only heard that His Majesty accused my father of treasonous words at the time.”

Seeing her sickly and so timid, Xu Guiyi did not wish to stir up painful memories. “If you don’t know, then let it be—we need not speak of it,” she said gently. She had no taste for reopening old wounds.

An Ruosu hugged her hand-warmer tight, looking at Xu Guiyi with sincere, gentle eyes. “Though I do not know exactly what my father said, I do know that he spoke in defense of the late General Feihong…”

Xu Guiyi felt as if a thunderclap had struck overhead, reverberating in her skull—so it was the Pei family’s guilt.

“His Majesty was furious and had my father thrown into prison on the spot. Later, the Crown Prince learned the truth and interceded many times before finally saving our family. I suffered greatly in prison; out of gratitude for my father’s loyalty, the Crown Prince brought me to the Eastern Palace for treatment. So, Your Highness, you mustn’t misunderstand the Crown Prince’s intentions—he merely pitied my father, and by extension, me.” Only now did Xu Guiyi realize that An Ruosu’s long explanation was meant to convey this. Tears stung her eyes.

“I have never misunderstood. There’s no need to worry, Ruosu. Just focus on your health,” Xu Guiyi reassured her.

At these words, An Ruosu finally breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “Your Highness, soon I will be leaving the Eastern Palace.”

“Leaving? Where are you going?” Xu Guiyi was shocked.

An Ruosu’s eyes were gentle, her lips soft. “I am going to Shu. My family is there, and I begged the Crown Prince for his permission to reunite with them. He has granted it. To be with one’s family—what could be better?”

Had it not been for the Crown Prince, she would never have survived the tortures of prison. When her family was released, they returned to their distant home; her mother took her younger siblings to settle in Shu, the nearest place to her father. Now, she too would soon join them.

Xu Guiyi trembled at her words. Seeing the gentle curve of An Ruosu’s smile, she felt as though a silver needle had pierced her heart, leaving a faint, persistent pain. After a moment, she composed herself, smoothing a warm smile over her features, though a trace of worry lingered. “But what of your illness?”

An Ruosu answered serenely, “It has been several years now—if I were to recover, I would have done so already. The imperial physicians say I was gravely injured in prison and may never recover. But it is all right, Your Highness need not worry. To spend my remaining days with family is enough for me.” As she spoke, her face was tranquil, as if describing something utterly commonplace. But Xu Guiyi’s heart ached all the more, and at last, a tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

Seeing Xu Guiyi weep, An Ruosu grew anxious. “Please do not cry, Your Highness. Truly, I am all right. These years in the Eastern Palace, meeting you, and Elder Sisters Cheng and Lu—I have been very happy.” She strove to comfort her.

Xu Guiyi could bear it no longer; she covered her mouth with her hand and stood abruptly, turning toward the window. Through her tears, she watched the clouds part and the sky clear, light gradually flooding the world, the scene before her eyes growing brighter frame by frame.

She wept and laughed, laughed and wept, her right hand pressed to her chest as she murmured softly, “May each year bring news on the spring breeze, and may hearts remain steadfast. I wish you, dear sister, a long life and every happiness.”

She could not recall how she made her way out of Xiling Pavilion. She dared not look back at An Ruosu’s tear-filled eyes. Only when she reached the courtyard did she hear sobs from within, grief impossible to restrain.

Before the Marquis of Changping’s wedding, Fu Lancheng had arranged for An Ruosu to fake her death and leave the capital.

Cheng Hewei and Lu Zhirou, unaware of the truth, wept bitterly; even Pei Jin mourned the loss of a worthy chess partner for days. Though Xu Guiyi knew An Ruosu was still alive, the thought that they might never meet again in this life brought her no less sorrow than theirs.

The sun blazed in a cloudless sky, warm winds caressed the air. Xu Guiyi was tending to the aftermath at Xiling Pavilion when a palace servant hurried in, saying someone from the Duke of Cheng’en’s household urgently sought the Crown Princess and begged her to come at once.

Xu Guiyi was puzzled. The Duke of Cheng’en’s household was always proper and never so flustered. What pressing matter could have occurred? She pondered as she hastened to the door.

“Your Highness, please save my lady—the Fifth Miss!” The messenger was a young maid unfamiliar to Xu Guiyi.

“Who are you, and what business brings you before Her Highness?” Xiyue asked sternly.

“Your Highness, I am Wenjing, maid to the Fifth Miss!” The girl was weeping bitterly, and Xu Guiyi understood at once. “You serve Zhu Ning?” For her to come pleading here—what could have happened? “Speak quickly, what has happened to your lady?” After all, they were sisters of the same blood, and Xu Guiyi felt a pang of anxiety.

Hearing that this girl served Xu Zhuning, Xiyue hurried to help Wenjing up. “Tell us quickly, what’s happened to the Fifth Miss? Is she being mistreated at the Yuan family’s house?”

Wenjing wiped her tears and sobbed, “Your Highness, please save my lady! If you don’t go now, she’ll die!”

Xu Guiyi felt as if struck by lightning. She demanded, “Is she not with child and about to give birth? How could she be dying?”

Startled, Xiyue ordered a carriage prepared at once, and sent Qingyu to fetch Xu Guiyi’s usual emerald-patterned brocade cloak—they would have to go immediately.

“The Fifth Miss is seven months along, but Madam Yuan still calls her to serve tea and water every day. My lady is gentle by nature…” Xu Zhuning had always been timid and tearful, never daring to go against her elders. She had been so at home, and even more so in her marital house.

Whenever Xu Guiyi visited the Duke of Cheng’en’s residence, Madam Xue would always say that everyone at the Yuan family praised Xu Zhuning for her respectfulness and filial piety.