In the winter of the sixth year of Zhongjing, the heir of Prince Xuan’s manor, Zong Si, returned triumphantly from a decisive victory over the Liao Kingdom. After receiving his rewards at the palace, he returned home—it was already past midnight.

Ning Fu had already retired, but upon hearing his low voice instructing the maid to prepare water, she sat up instinctively and looked toward the sound.

Zong Si cast a glance her way but said nothing, heading straight into the washroom. By the time a cup of tea had passed, he emerged. Tall and slender, his hair brushed his temples, handsome yet cold-faced in repose. Now honored in battle and commanding great prestige, he seemed increasingly distant—a stranger cloaked in power.

The man reached out, gently pinching her chin, studying her face calmly. His hand moved lower, slipping inside her robe.

A clap of thunder erupted. Rain poured fiercely beyond the window; peach blossoms trembled, weeping in vivid sorrow, and willow branches swayed delicately—beauty rendered beyond description.

Only after a long while did the storm settle.

Inside the bed curtains, the sudden downpour had also subsided. Any other couple, after such a long separation, might speak in hushed tones of longing and tenderness. But this was their reunion after a year apart, and it felt strangely unfamiliar.

Zong Si, bright and striking in appearance, had joined Prince Xuan on campaign at just seventeen, earning accolades in both scholarship and combat—a dream match in the hearts of countless noble women. His marriage to Ning Fu had been arranged through family and matchmakers. Yet, before the union, his heart had belonged to the second daughter of the Duke of Qing—now the Fourth Princess Consort. The pair had shared mutual affection, and if not for the meddling of the Fourth Prince, they might already have been wed.

Thinking this, bitterness surged in Ning Fu’s heart. Her looks and lineage were no less than that young lady’s, but their marital fates couldn’t be more different.

“Three days from now, I’ll return to the North,” Zong Si eventually said with calm finality.

Each time he came back, it was for no more than a few days. She didn’t argue.

Over the next several days, Zong Si was preoccupied with affairs, resting in his study and never visiting her chambers. Only on the night before his departure did she see him again.

As he moved atop her, unbridled, Ning Fu finally spoke: “I want to go with you to the North.”

He paused. “The northern cold is harsh. Your body can’t endure it. You should stay at the manor. If you get bored, invite Mother-in-law to keep you company.”

Ning Fu said nothing. She turned her back, feigning sleep.

Zong Si, still aroused, reached for her—but she dodged him. “Please, Your Highness. Have mercy on my body.”

The man withdrew his hand, staring at her silent back for a long while. Finally, he looked away, his desire gone.

Ning Fu hadn’t yet truly fallen asleep. Tears had soaked her pillow. She knew—he simply didn’t want her to come with him. Just as she reached out to wipe them away, a hand slid around her waist. He leaned in behind her.

“Why do you want to go north?” he asked quietly.

Her eyes were bloodshot, but her tone remained calm. “I’ve never been. Curious about the scenery. But since you say it’s cold, I don’t want to go anymore.”

“Mm.” He exhaled, seemingly relieved by her lack of insistence.

She didn’t speak again, nor did she let him hold her. She pretended to sleep—only to truly drift off. By the time she awoke, the space beside her was empty.

Yu Huan entered and said, “His Lordship left for the North at dawn. He told me not to wake you.”

Ning Fu seemed used to it. He never told her when he was leaving. She said nothing as Yu Huan dressed her. Her reflection hadn’t changed much over three years—except for her eyes, now dulled with numbness.

Was this lonely chamber her life now?

Everyone said her marriage to Zong Si was a blessing. But if given another chance, Ning Fu would never choose him again. She didn’t need a remarkable husband—just one who wouldn’t ignore her. Her days were always the same: breakfast, then greetings to Princess Xuan.

Taking a shortcut past the rock garden, she overheard servants whispering: “Even the Princess urged His Lordship to take the madam along, he still left her alone.”

“How could she go? Haven’t you heard? His Lordship has a woman by his side in the North—one who resembles the Fourth Princess Consort.”

Yu Huan’s face turned pale, and she was about to scold them, but Ning Fu stopped her. “Let’s go.”

Yu Huan was unwilling, but Ning Fu half believed it. The North was known for its beauties—and if one looked like that woman, it was no wonder Zong Si kept her company and refused Ning Fu’s.

Rumors had spread. Others surely knew—just no one dared say it aloud. No wonder her mother urged her to bear a child. She feared someone else would claim Zong Si’s affections first. As his legitimate wife, childless, Ning Fu could only be wounded by such talk.

Maybe she’d be better off divorcing.

Just as she thought this, her foot slipped. She fell from the rock garden and smelled blood—her head had struck something. She didn’t feel pain, only her consciousness fading. Was she going to die?

Ning Fu: “…”

Compared to death, Zong Si’s mistress seemed trivial. If she could live, even if he took a hundred concubines, she wouldn’t utter a word!

“Madam!”

She heard Yu Huan’s frantic cry.

Ning Fu’s heart tightened. It wasn’t just Yu Huan. Aside from her husband, many people truly cared for her. If she died, how would they all feel?

Then, darkness took her.