Chengyu was bewildered.

She had grown up with Xuan Mingzhu, often competing with her, and it seemed she had faced more setbacks than victories.

How did Mei Heting turn the tables on her so suddenly, adding a stain to her reputation?

The pressure emanating from him did not stem from authority or harsh words; his ceremonial robes looked refined on him, exuding a calm demeanor.

Yet, his still, deep-set eyes carried the weight of mountains, making Chengyu feel that if she didn’t yield, he would indeed take action.

She didn’t dare meet those dark, forest-like eyes, feeling puzzled: Mei Heting had always disdained Xuan Mingzhu, so why was he protecting her so fiercely today?

Xuan Mingzhu remained composed.

To her, Chengyu’s slander against Bao Ya was to be expected—after all, Mei Heting was Bao Ya’s father, and it was only natural for him to stand up for his daughter.

As for why he had suddenly appeared here, it was none of her concern.

Cuimei Palace was the place Xuan Mingzhu cherished most in the entire imperial palace.

In the past, during the Mid-Autumn, Lantern, and Double Ninth festivals, she would often beg Mei Heting to accompany her back for a short stay.

In seven years, he had only set foot in this palace once, and even then, he had stayed in the side hall, refusing to share her bed.

He always had many reasons—claiming it was inappropriate for the prince consort to stay in the inner palace, that it would be disrespectful to the ancestors, that he wasn’t accustomed to the palace’s many attendants.

She had long since accepted this.

Perhaps it was the bright sunlight that made her feel a bit drowsy, so Xuan Mingzhu thought to end this farce and return to the hall for refreshing lychees.

But Mei Heting insisted, “Sixth Princess, you still owe an apology.”

At his words, Xuan Mingzhu glanced at him again and paused.

Someone was handling Chengyu, and she wouldn’t undermine that.

After a long moment of hesitation, Chengyu could no longer withstand Mei Heting’s unwavering gaze.

With her swollen face, she reluctantly lowered herself and said, “I spoke carelessly. Please forgive me, Elder Sister.”

She silently cursed: Just wait; one day I’ll turn the tables, and Mei Heting will stand by my side, watching you cry!

Xuan Mingzhu chuckled, “Little Six, holding grudges in secret, you should think it through.”

Chengyu’s expression stiffened when a voice sounded from behind, “What a lively scene.”

At the far end of the palace path, a soft sedan chair carried by eight bearers approached, and a frost-haired old woman dressed in the attire of a princess consort descended, accompanied by a delicate young girl in a plain blue dress.

Chengyu’s eyes flashed with cold light upon seeing her, thinking that this person had probably been watching the show for quite a while and only spoke up after she had lost face.

On the surface, she greeted warmly, “Princess Consort Shen!”

The elderly woman with graying temples was Guo Shi, the widow of the late Emperor’s younger brother, Prince Shen. By rank, Xuan Mingzhu should address her as “aunt.”

However, many years ago, Guo Shi had sought to matchmake her nephew with the Grand princess.

Before the late emperor could respond, Xuan Mingzhu had brought a group of followers to “investigate” her nephew.

Perhaps there were too many youthful admirers that day, or maybe they had been too boisterous while circling around the young man on horseback, or perhaps the conversation had become too intimate.

In any case, Guo Shi’s son, who was over seventeen and still had four young wet nurses in his room, had been so frightened that he wet himself.

The match was never realized, and since that day, Guo Shi’s son bore a hidden ailment, while Princess Consort Shen harbored a grudge against Xuan Mingzhu.

Xuan Mingzhu was indifferent; family ties in the royal family were often superficial.

How many people could truly share their hearts with one another?

Princess Consort Shen noticed the young and handsome Mei Heting immediately, nodding repeatedly. “Prince Consort Mei grows more impressive by the day; he should accompany Zhao Le into the palace more often.”

Mei Heting nodded respectfully, his deep red official robe highlighting his dignified demeanor.

Xuan Mingzhu smiled, “Are you also here to visit Consort Shu, Your Highness?”

Princess Consort Shen smiled in agreement. “The Grand Empress Dowager seems to be in good spirits. After leaving Zhongyu Palace, I heard Zhao Le was also in the palace, so I came by.”

“I see, what a coincidence,” Xuan Mingzhu said, her gaze landing on the elegant young girl in the blue dress.

The girl, with round doe-like eyes, seemed to sense this gaze and softly greeted, “Xing Yun greets the Grand Princess, the Sixth Princess, and Brother Mei.”

“Yun’er?”

Mei Heting’s eyebrows twitched slightly as he finally noticed the familiar face in front of him, seemingly surprised. “How did you enter the palace?”

Hearing the intimate way the two addressed each other, Cheng Yu felt a pang of jealousy but then quickly found satisfaction in the situation, glancing at Xuan Mingzhu with a look of anticipation.

Xuan Mingzhu laughed directly. “Oh, it’s been years, and Mei Shaoqing’s little childhood friend has an even sweeter voice now.”

Xing Yun, daughter of the famous scholar Xing Rulin from Jiangnan, had studied with Mei Heting as children under the tutelage of the imperial teacher Bai Yang.

They were senior and junior fellow apprentices, growing up together like childhood sweethearts.

If Xuan Mingzhu hadn’t swooped in first and married the new top scholar, the match would have surely been with this well-matched lady from a noble family.

She remembered that during her wedding with the prince consort, Miss Xing had even sent a congratulatory gift—an authentic handwritten manuscript by the late Master Bai.

Mei Heting had cherished it like a treasure, showing just how much thought Miss Xing had put into it.

Several times, Xuan Mingzhu had tried to send the annoying item to the secret archives, only to be stopped by Mei Heting.

His reasoning was upright: “The writings of my mentor—I must study and reflect on them regularly.”

Such a dignified excuse, leaving no room for objection, though it still unsettled her.

After all, the girl was innocent, and the man was noble.

To make a fuss would only make her seem unreasonable, not understanding the deep respect scholars have for their mentors.

At the time, she had been foolishly in love with her groom and had tolerated it.

Looking back now, it all felt so pointless.

At this moment, after hearing Xuan Mingzhu’s remark, Mei Heting’s expression darkened slightly.

He noticed that Xuan Mingzhu had changed.

In the past, she would never have spoken such vulgar words in public.

The Princess Consort of Prince Shen playfully teased, “Zhao Le, don’t be jealous. Yun’er comes from a scholarly family. When I saw such an intelligent and obedient girl, I took her as my goddaughter and was just thinking of asking the Emperor to grant her the title of county lady.”

Standing nearby, Cheng’er frowned.

She knew that the Princess Consort had always been at odds with Xuan Mingzhu.

Now, even though she knew how sensitive the relationship between this girl and the Prince Consort was, she still brazenly recognized her as a goddaughter and sought to elevate her status.

The intention was crystal clear.

Xing Yun, flustered, curtsied deeply. “Your Highness, there must be some misunderstanding. Mei Sh… Mei Prince Consort and I are only classmates. I was fortunate to receive his care for a few years and would never forget his kindness.”

“If my relationship with the Prince Consort causes any rift between you and him, I truly…” Tears welled up in the girl’s eyes. “I truly feel deeply guilty and uneasy.”

Mei Heting frowned. “Yun’er, don’t cry.”

Cheng’er and Hong’er, watching this display, rolled their eyes, suddenly feeling that having “er” in their names was highly unfortunate.

Xuan Mingzhu, however, remained calm, not showing any anger or impatience.

She raised her eyes to the clear sky, free of the slightest cloud.

What a beautiful day, and all the people she least wanted to see had gathered together.

Suppressing the nausea rising in her chest from the medicine she’d taken, Xuan Mingzhu slowly and methodically comforted the fragile girl, delicate as a begonia.

“Yes, don’t worry. Your Senior Brother Mei will soon no longer be the Prince Consort. The process of amending the jade records in the Ministry of the Clan may take some time, but having him pack up and move out of the Princess’s mansion can be done quickly.”

Her words, spoken in public, were like a thunderbolt on a clear day, stunning everyone into silence.

Xing Yun forgot to cry, staring blankly at the noblewoman in front of her, smiling elegantly.

Mei Heting’s face changed drastically as he grabbed Xuan Mingzhu’s wrist, forgetting even the formal address: “What do you mean by this?”

The literal meaning.

Xuan Mingzhu, whose peaceful days were now numbered, had no interest in dragging this out.

Conveniently, there were plenty of witnesses. She shook off his hand and, word by word, declared:

“I couldn’t speak in detail at the Bao Ya Pavilion that day. Mei Heting, listen carefully. From this day forward, all debts between us are settled.”

“I am divorcing the Prince Consort. The decree will be sent to the Ministry of the Clan immediately. You have three days to move out of the Princess’s mansion, your title of Prince Consort will be revoked, and your salary reduced by half. From now on, we are strangers.”