At dinner, with her father and mother accompanying her, Mei Baoya ate happily, occasionally swaying her little head and humming an unknown tune when her mood lifted.

Mei Heting, dressed in a dark blue casual robe, maintained an upright posture while glancing at her.

Baoya immediately stiffened her little face and said softly, “Daughter knows, one shouldn’t talk while eating.”

Xu Mingzhu, concerned about Doctor Yang’s injury, felt her eyelids flutter at the mention and affectionately placed a piece of crispy meat on her daughter’s plate. “Baoya is still young; she doesn’t need to follow such rules.”

Mei Heting didn’t say anything more.

Baoya soon perked up again, continuing the latter half of her improvised tune.

After the meal, dusk fell, and Xu Mingzhu hesitated to take Baoya outside.

Worried she might have overeaten, she brought over a flower-pattern book for them to spend time cutting paper flowers.

The two heads, one large and one small, leaned together, thoroughly enjoying their activity, while Mei Heting lingered in the room without leaving.

Usually, at this hour, he would either be in the study reading or dealing with official documents, never wasting time in the inner chamber.

Xu Mingzhu didn’t look up as she said, “There’s nothing to worry about here.”

He stood like a tree trunk, blocking the light.

Mei Heting lightly responded but remained at the curtain’s edge.

His gaze fell on Baoya, who was seriously selecting paper flowers with her little legs crossed.

Most of his attention, however, was on Xu Mingzhu’s face, illuminated by the glass lantern, glowing softly.

In the past, when they were together, she would always find ways to talk to him, her voice sweet and honeyed, ensuring the conversation never fell silent.

But today was different.

Perhaps it was because Baoya was present.

The man couldn’t help but step closer, wanting to catch a clearer whiff of her unique fragrance, clumsily asking, “What kind of flower is this?”

Even Xu Mingzhu could tell he was making small talk, glancing at him with a faint smile.

Her patience was thinner now, but she didn’t want to lose her temper in front of the child.

With a subdued expression, she replied, “The case of the Yichun Music House still needs investigation. I’ve said three days’ time; it’s neither more nor less. Don’t think just because I’m a woman that I’m joking. If you can’t face the Dali Temple, then Minister Mei, you should hurry.”

Her words were subtle yet pointed, confirming to Mei Heting that she was still upset about what happened earlier.

He knew he had misunderstood her in front of others without asking for clarification.

However, he didn’t feel embarrassed by Xu Mingzhu’s stance; after all, as a grand princess of Jin, her status was equal to that of nobility, and it was rare to find someone as good-natured as Zhao Le.

What puzzled him was why Xu Mingzhu, who usually wanted to be with him, was now pushing him away for the sake of her friends.

It was as if, in her heart, his status was not as significant as that of her friends.

Of course, that was absurd. Mei Heting chuckled at himself for feeling jealous like a concubine.

He composed himself and said seriously, “I already have leads on that case; one night won’t make a difference.”

Xu Mingzhu didn’t respond.

If he wanted to watch, let him; it wasn’t her who was bored.

Before long, at the hour of the dog, the little girl grew tired of playing, rubbing her sleepy eyes several times, yet reluctant to part with the paper flowers.

“Baoya, be good; we’ll play again tomorrow,” Xu Mingzhu coaxed gently, ordering the maid to lay out a quilt while she casually tied her hair up with a simple hairpin, allowing her dark locks to cascade loosely at the back of her neck.

She then settled against the peony-patterned pillow, wrapping Baoya in her arms and gently patting her to sleep.

After a nightmare, Baoya needed this kind of comfort to sleep soundly.

Mei Heting watched the unadorned silhouette of the woman under the lantern light, her figure slender and pure, like a pear blossom blooming after rain.

So different from the fiery red lotus of the day.

It seemed that ever since Baoya was born, Xu Mingzhu had always been this calm and graceful.

Whenever Baoya woke from a nightmare at night, Xu Mingzhu would hold her tightly, and he would embrace both of them from behind.

Back then, they would squeeze onto a small couch, none of them sleeping soundly, yet the warmth and tranquility were rare.

Later, when he was transferred to the Dali Temple and became busier, he spent less time with them.

Mei Heting’s expression darkened as he removed his outer garment, revealing his moon-white inner robe with winding grass patterns, and softly said, “I’ll help Baoya sleep.”

Xu Mingzhu hesitated for a moment but nodded, thinking it was good that he had this intention.

In the future, when she was gone, Baoya wouldn’t have to suffer too much.

But she first asked the little one, “Baoya, would you like Daddy to accompany you?”

Baoya, with her half-closed eyes, nodded adorably.

Her mother’s embrace smelled sweet like flowers, while her father’s was filled with the scent of pine and grass, and she loved both.

“Daddy, tell me a story.”

Mei Heting paused, caught off guard.

This man, who once excelled in poetry and had read through all the classics, could eloquently discuss laws and regulations, yet when it came to storytelling, he was no match for Mei Yu.

“Daddy doesn’t know how to tell stories.”

“Oh.” The little girl was very magnanimous. “Then I’ll tell Daddy one! I recently heard a story about a princess from the previous dynasty who divorced her husband—it’s a true story! So exciting!”

A princess getting a divorce?

Mei Heting felt something was off and instinctively glanced at Xu Mingzhu.

She had already closed her eyes, resting on the small couch beside the door.

A thin silk quilt was draped carelessly over her, revealing her fair, slender legs, and below that, ten exquisite toes painted with bright red lacquer, captivating in the lantern light.

Mei Heting’s gaze deepened as he turned back to listen to the sweet babble of storytelling beside him.

Before long, Baoya struggled to keep her eyes open, and before she knew it, she had fallen asleep while talking.

Mei Heting gently brushed aside the stray hairs resting on the little girl’s eyelashes and turned back to look at Xu Mingzhu.

The way both mother and daughter slept was strikingly similar.

He tucked Baoya in, then quietly stepped out of bed to admire the peaceful expression on her face.

The bright red birthmark between her brows was mesmerizing, drawing one’s gaze in a way that was hard to break away from.

It was like a beautiful enchantment, only a rare and exquisite touch could bring it to life.

So alluring, yet it shouldn’t be seen by everyone.

Feeling a dryness in his throat, Mei Heting pinched his palm to divert his attention and leaned down, one hand touching her soft knee while the other gently supported her delicate back.

He wanted to carry her to bed to sleep.

As he leaned in, his breath stirred her loose hair, causing Xu Mingzhu to open her eyes.

When she recognized who it was, the moisture in the long princess’s eyes dissipated, replaced by cold indifference.

Mei Heting caught the fleeting change in her expression, and his movements froze, his gaze reverting to its usual solemnity.

The lamp flickered, and the atmosphere became awkwardly tense.

“Is Baoya asleep?” Xu Mingzhu asked as she sat up, her voice slightly muffled.

Mei Heting nodded, watching her avoid his hand as she got up, suddenly saying, “Today, it was my fault.”

Xu Mingzhu paused, turning her back to him.

“I shouldn’t have misunderstood the princess without asking for clarification. It was just that when I saw you at the scene, I worried you might get into trouble, so I acted in haste.”

Xu Mingzhu didn’t even spare him a glance.

She went to check on Baoya, then walked to the basin to wring out a cloth to wipe the little girl’s sweat.

Mei Heting followed her, stepping in front of Xu Mingzhu and forcing her to look into his eyes.

“I know your heart is troubled since your birthday, but that incident was unavoidable; I became anxious after hearing the news about Princess Chengyu.”

At this, the corners of his lips turned down slightly, tinged with reproach: “You know my character well. Why would you say such degrading things to insult me?”

“Insult?”

Hearing that word finally elicited a reaction from Xu Mingzhu, who raised her phoenix-like eyes to regard him with a hint of amusement.

This was the man she had admired for seven years, who she couldn’t bear to see suffer even the slightest grievance.

She certainly knew that the Mei family of Jiangnan was a prestigious scholarly clan with a history of producing scholars and officials.

Her grandfather had served as a secretary, and her uncle had been a mentor in the imperial examination for three sessions.

Mei Heting himself was a direct disciple of the late emperor’s grand tutor, and he had almost achieved the top honor in the exams, known for his impeccable reputation.

The Mei family of Jiangnan held a status comparable to the five surnames and seven prestigious families of Jiangbei, truly a family of the emperor’s scholars and gentlemen.

Thus, Mei Heting held himself to such high standards that he wouldn’t allow even a hint of blemish on his character.

It was no wonder she indulged him so much that, in the end, he couldn’t bear to hear a single harsh truth.

Who was truly the noble one here?

Recalling his obsession with cleanliness, Xuan Mingzhu lightly curled her lips: “Just one word would be an insult. If I were to keep a lover, wouldn’t the prince be too ashamed to show his face?”

After a moment of shock, Mei Heting looked at her with pained disappointment. “Don’t demean yourself!”

“…” Xuan Mingzhu was speechless.

He thought that her claim of keeping a lover was meant to provoke him, that she was demeaning herself.

In the grand era of the Great Jin Dynasty, which grand princess had not kept one or two lovers?

Many had even remarried several times, like Cheng Yu.

Her previous deep feelings for Mei Heting, her willingness to remain chaste, did not imply she had any objections to indulging in romance.

What he relied on was merely her love for him being deeper and greater than his for her.

How could he say such things?

Xuan Mingzhu was now completely unwilling to speak, lowering her head to wring a handkerchief, gripping it so tightly as if she wanted to twist out all the water that had entered her mind over the years.

Suddenly, a hand reached out and grasped the handkerchief in the middle, applying a similar force, as if trying to squeeze out her earlier “indecent words” completely.

A surge of unnamed anger rose in Xuan Mingzhu’s chest, and fearing she might wake the baby, she clenched her nails tightly, refusing to let go.

When she met his autumn-water-like eyes, which held both anger and accusation, Mei Heting’s brow slightly furrowed, and he couldn’t help but release his grip.

The sleeve was pulled forward, and a roll of books unexpectedly fell into the basin of water.

The splash was particularly jarring in the silence, and for a moment, Xuan Mingzhu forgot her anger and hurriedly turned to check if her daughter had been startled awake.

When she turned back, the characters on the ochre cover had already blurred from the water.

Mei Heting’s expression instantly darkened.

In his deep, tranquil eyes was a mixture of emotions that Xuan Mingzhu couldn’t decipher—seeming both restrained and angered—prompting her to lower her voice and ask, “Is it the document from the Ministry of Justice?”

The tone was overly ingratiating, and Xuan Mingzhu herself was taken aback.

Then, an endless weariness and deep self-loathing surged within her.

She was actually trying to curry favor with him!

Seven years of habit had ingrained itself in her bones, and upon seeing Mei Heting’s expression, she instinctively worried about whether she had angered him.

Logically, she had already let go of this person, yet her humble self immediately wanted to comfort him.

It was like discovering a dirty truth, and in that moment, her anger toward herself far exceeded any frustration with Mei Heting.

She felt cold, her shoulders trembling uncontrollably, and her nails dug painfully into her palms.

Mei Heting, with his gaze lowered and unaware of her anomaly, answered softly, “No.”

It was merely that he had spent several months, countless nights, combing through poetry collections to find all verses containing the words “Mingzhu,” compiling them into a book.

He intended it as a birthday gift for her, a token of his thoughts.

She, as tha Grand princess, lacked for nothing in gold and jade, and merely praising his artistry would have been enough for him to wish to present it to her.

And it had been ruined by her petulance.

Mei Heting looked at her silent figure, knowing she must realize she had made a mistake, and he wished to admonish her.

They were like an old married couple, and her capriciousness should have had its limits; she couldn’t always act on a whim.

Having been raised in a scholarly family, Mei Heting had long been steeped in the teachings of propriety.

He was the bearer of the Mei family’s legacy and the imperial tutor’s teachings.

A scholar should aim to govern the country and manage affairs, how could he indulge in romantic feelings?

He could not endlessly accommodate her.

Just as the words were about to escape his lips, the sleeping baby turned over, mumbling in her dreams continued her story: “Having bowed at the flower hall, my wife actually cast me aside…”

In the moment Mei Heting was distracted, Xuan Mingzhu let out a sigh lighter than the mumbling Baoya: “Heting, let’s keep our distance.”

Xuan Mingzhu lowered her long lashes, staring at the distinct shadows on the ground.

Having planted these painful thorns in her heart, it was fine; she could pull them out one by one.