Mei Heting’s hand almost brushed against the hem of her clothing, but Xuan Mingzhu sidestepped to avoid him and chuckled, “I know Di Yuanying well.”

She had just heard from Song Tai about the recommendations for the post.

Di Yuanying was half a student of Bai Yang and half a senior of Mei Heting, and one of the old ministers in the court who had been most dissatisfied with her support of Prince Rong back in the day.

When the news about her choosing a husband spread, Di Yuanying expressed his frustration and even took the risk of defying the Emperor, writing a memorial to Jin Mingdi:

“With Mei Tanhua’s talent, given time, he could enter the Three Departments and become an indispensable official in the court. If he remains a prince, it would be a great pity to cut off his career path.”

This angered Jin Mingdi, who accused Di Yuanying of disrespecting the royal family and of being rude to the princess, resulting in Di being exiled from the capital until the former emperor ascended the throne.

Xuan Mingzhu smiled deeply.

This cabinet minister was quite well-informed and had a knack for seizing opportunities, but why was he rushing to push his little junior out to be grilled before everything was settled?

She knew that some old foxes in the cabinet had started to suspect her true relationship with the Emperor, having tested her in various ways over the past year.

Mei Heting was genuinely a teacher of the Emperor, with the principles of heaven, earth, the ruler, and teachers deeply ingrained in him, wholeheartedly supporting the new emperor—this was no pretense.

As for her, the Grand princess, she had always had a contentious relationship with the Emperor, making their marriage appear awkward in the eyes of outsiders.

But if the court officials believed that her separation from Mei Heting was an act, and that her intention was to support him further to assist the Emperor—then inadvertently, her secret aid to the Emperor would be exposed.

Even without concrete evidence, if they planted the seeds of doubt, her hidden support would be in vain.

If the foxes hid their tails, the young Emperor would find it hard to sit securely on the dragon throne.

Before she died, Xuan Mingzhu’s greatest ambition was to help Xuan Changci her nephew, the current emperor stabilize the country, making it easier for her nephew in the future, and to counteract the muddled days she had lived for the sake of love.

So it wouldn’t be in vain that she was born a royal princess.

Thus, it would be best if she and Mei Heting had no further contact, appearing utterly estranged.

Their past bond would make his entry into the cabinet appear inconspicuous, allowing him to assist the Emperor without worries.

Of course, her resolve was genuine.

The difficulty lay in convincing the astute ministers to believe this “truth” was real and to hide the “falsehood” of her relationship with the Emperor.

Seeing Mei Heting now, lingering with some reluctance toward her—this was unacceptable.

Xuan Mingzhu’s expression grew cold. “The three-day period has ended. Mei Da-ren, have you packed everything from your residence?”

Yanhui’s expression changed from gloomy to joyful at her words, lightly tapping the iron-carved beast’s shoulder.

Unexpectedly, the typically stern-faced Mei Heting nodded, “Everything is ready. Please return to check, Your Highness. I still have something to discuss.”

This sudden enthusiasm surprised Xuan Mingzhu.

She saw no hints of his feelings in his demeanor, thought for a moment, and replied, “Alright.”

The residence was hers; she intended to return and check on the little crow.

At this moment, between her and him, there was only a formal decree from the Ministry of Rites missing to sever their ties completely.

“Ah, sister!”

Seeing her about to leave the palace with that fool, Yanhui’s expression changed, and he caught the fluttering sleeve of Xuan Mingzhu’s gown, his gaze soft.

“Sister, I have something to say. Can we step aside for a moment?”

Mei Heting’s eyes narrowed.

Xuan Mingzhu, feeling uncomfortable, stepped aside with Yanhui, “Speak properly.”

“Yes, little Huai will speak sincerely in front of sister.”

Yanhui blinked, lowering his voice intentionally, “Sister, are you returning home because you can’t bear to leave the prince?”

Before she could answer, he sighed softly, “That’s true; he has been with you for seven years after all. But that just means sister and little Huai are both sentimental people. It’s a pity that Mei prince and I aren’t of the same kind; his heart is as hard as iron, his eyes blind to the truth. He truly isn’t worthy of you. Ah, little Huai’s words won’t upset you, right?”

Did he really think everyone else was deaf? The person being mocked nearly turned the color of a scorched pot.

Xuan Mingzhu felt a wave of bitterness and suspected that Yang Kezhi had given Yanhui fake wine yesterday.

Unable to endure, she smacked him with a fruit.

“Yanhui, what I said yesterday wasn’t empty words. You better remember it! Go do your own business!”

“Understood!” Yanhui grinned, unfazed, glancing at the man’s darkening face before skipping away.

He left happily, but Xuan Mingzhu was still brooding over the annoyance he had caused as she climbed into the carriage.

What frightened her was not so much Yan Hui’s antics, but the fear that this stubborn boy might be speaking truths disguised as jokes.

A dying person cannot afford a single heartfelt word.

After taking her medicine, a wave of nausea rolled in her chest, and Xuan Mingzhu felt a sweet taste rising in her throat, threatening to make her vomit.

At that moment, the light in the carriage suddenly brightened, and a corner of the two-toned satin curtain was lifted by two cold, white fingers.

Xuan Mingzhu was startled and quickly covered her lips with a handkerchief.

Outside the curtain, a clear face bore no expression, but the person gracefully entered the carriage.

A refreshing aura, like pine and snow, instantly dissipated the fragrance inside the carriage, making Xuan Mingzhu’s throat feel even more sickly sweet.

She suppressed it, unable to speak or ask if all the horses in the Yellow Stable had died, forcing the esteemed young official to ride in a woman’s carriage.

With an additional person beside her, she pretended to be invisible, closing her eyes to rest.

Mei Heting sat upright on the opposite Qingluan cushion.

The driver outside asked, “Your Highness, shall we return home?”

Xuan Mingzhu ignored him, but another calm voice inside the carriage replied, “Yes, let’s return.”

He turned his head to glance at the woman’s slightly flushed cheeks, his clear gaze falling to the elegant hand resting on her knee, and he watched her in silence.

In the princess’s residence, under the rockery of the Chufeng courtyard, three little heads huddled together.

Among them, the fluffy little head with pink ribbons tied into two buns forcefully nudged her neighbors with small pigtails, declaring in a serious tone, “I think something’s wrong with Dad and Mom—very wrong!”

A hand, still growing into its adult form, pressed down on her head. “It’s nothing; don’t think too much.”

After saying that, he exchanged a knowing glance with the boy beside him—none other than the two young masters of the princess’s residence, Mei Yu and Mei Heng.

Their mother wanted to divorce their father.

Such a huge matter had reached their ears, but neither dared to think too deeply about it or let Bao Ya find out.

The two boys felt anxious.

No matter how clever Bao Ya was, she was still just five years old, having grown up in a sweet bubble.

If she learned about her parents’ separation, how could she handle it?

Just then, Bao Ya’s childish voice piped up, “I bet they had a fight! Definitely! That night, I saw Dad all alone in Mei Heyuan, hugging a big white crane and crying really sadly!”

Mei Yu imagined that scene… and immediately dismissed his worry about the little girl.

He felt that with such a wildly off-topic imagination, her mind couldn’t be too complex.

Even if their father no longer cared for their mother, she would still manage to support herself with her storytelling.

“I’ll step out for a moment.”

Mei Yu casually ruffled the little girl’s hair, stood up, and dusted off his robe. “Bookworm, keep an eye on her. Don’t let her run around recklessly.”

Mei Baoya, with half her hair disheveled, looked dazed.

Mei Yu walked quite a distance away, still hearing her sorrowful wail behind him: “Stinky Mei Da, bad Mei Da, give me back my little pigtails!”

Mei Heng tried to soothe her, while Bao Ya pretended to cry and pressed him to admit that Dad and Mom were indeed not right!

Mei Heng, while playfully braiding her hair, tried to persuade her that it was normal for couples to argue.

Bao Ya rebutted that they never fought before.

After a moment of silence, Mei Heng cautiously suggested that maybe they were not right from the start?

Mei Yu couldn’t help but smile at their innocence, shaking his head.

What were these two little ones getting so worked up about?

Once outside the main gate, his smile faded, and his youthful face revealed a hint of seriousness and gravity.

A quarter of an hour later, Mei Yu stood outside the Imperial Physician’s office.

The young man in the jade hairpin and blue robe looked up at the golden plaque before stepping inside.

Not long after he left, the two people Bao Ya was talking about returned home.

Bao Ya happily opened her little hands, calling out “Mom” and Xuan Mingzhu, having missed her precious child for several days, instantly smiled brightly, holding her tightly in her arms for a warm embrace.

After glancing at the father she had just been scolding, Bao Ya quickly reverted to being the perfect little girl, clinging to her mother for hugs and kisses, and then asking, “Sister Yingchao said you have something to tell me when you come back. What is it?”

“Bao Ya.”

Mei Heting felt a pang of anxiety, fearing that Xuan Mingzhu would truly disregard everything and say it in front of the child.

He said in a deep voice, “Your mother is tired; let her rest before talking to you.”

“Okay.” Bao Ya blinked her big, round eyes. “Mom, go rest quickly. I’ll learn to write with Mei Er!”

While saying this, she patted her little chest to show how obedient she was.

In front of the two children, Xuan Mingzhu did not argue with Mei Heting.

Instead, she smiled and admired Bao Ya’s left-side hair bun for a moment.

As she turned around, she impulsively pulled down the pink satin ribbon, her back radiating a fond smile. “Your second brother’s skills aren’t great; let him practice more.”

Mei Baoya pouted, covering her head: Why is everyone bullying my little pigtails?

Mei Heng chuckled helplessly, bowing as he sent his parents off.

As he watched his mother’s figure disappear into the distance, his brows furrowed in confusion.

For some reason, he sensed that his mother’s demeanor had changed from the dignified and gentle image he remembered.

In Mei Heting’s study, no one was allowed to enter, as it housed numerous official documents neatly organized on the bookshelves along the walls, reflecting his meticulous nature—clear distinctions between public and private matters.

So, while his trusted aide Jiang Jin could come and go freely, Xuan Mingzhu could not.

In the past, she had been quite foolish, never thinking to use her status as a princess to command him to change his temper.

She had merely focused on not crossing his boundaries.

Thus, when she heard Mei Heting invite her to his study to discuss matters, Xuan Mingzhu found it amusing and couldn’t help but recall a saying: “When the child is lost, you come to nurse it.”

It was indeed crude but true.

Then she felt it was inauspicious and spat lightly.

Mei Heting raised an eyebrow, looking at her.

“It’s none of your business.” Xuan Mingzhu was in a good mood, smiling as she stepped inside.

Upon entering, she saw three black wooden boxes neatly placed in the center of the room.

These were what he referred to as his packed belongings.

Xuan Mingzhu smiled; she didn’t even need to open them to know they were filled with books and documents.

Of course, Mei Heting was not one to value material possessions and would never stoop to covet his wife’s wealth.

When he needed to leave, he only needed to take his literary talent and noble character, and that was refreshing.

Seeing that he was understanding, Xuan Mingzhu felt even lighter in spirit.

“How wonderful! We’ll part amicably, just right for a clean break. From now on, we can forget each other in the world…”

Before she could finish, Mei Heting firmly shut the door behind him, his eyes dark and intense as he stepped closer to her.

The refreshing scent of pine and snow surrounded her, and the man lowered his head to whisper, “But I do not wish to part ways with Your Highness in such a manner.”

Xuan Mingzhu was a bit taken aback, confused as to why he would contradict himself when everything was already packed.

The sudden closeness made her uneasy, and she frowned, taking a step back.

Behind her was the multi-purpose pavilion, a place Mei Heting knew well.

He reached out, resting his hand near her delicate ear, pressing against the wooden frame, easily enclosing her within a small space.

A section of his slender wrist peeked out from beneath his sleeve, lean and well-defined, with blue veins clearly visible.

There was no flirtation in his demeanor; Mei Heting had never understood such things.

Yet his casual gesture felt like a hunter waiting for his prey, with a hint of an unnamable tension in his gaze.

Xuan Mingzhu felt puzzled: “What do you mean?”

With a light flick of her long, curled lashes, devoid of any emotion, it was as if a delicate brush gently swept over Mei Heting’s tender heart.

His throat involuntarily rolled, and he inexplicably recalled an unrelated matter: it seemed he hadn’t seen her for nearly a month…

The man bit his tongue tip, quickly reining in his wandering thoughts, and with a serious expression, picked up three long sandalwood boxes from the wooden shelf behind her.

“According to Your Highness’s intention to pack up, this is not my wish; I only wish to demonstrate that I am not the kind of person who clings shamelessly. But I have never considered separating from Your Highness.

“My intentions and apologies are all contained here. Please take a look before making your decision.” His voice was low and slow, each word hanging heavily in the air.

Mei Heting felt confident; there was no insurmountable conflict between him and the princess.

It was merely that he had neglected her feelings over the years, and he acknowledged his mistakes and accepted his punishment.

Women, when wronged, often need to express their grievances to find relief.

Thus, he had carefully prepared these three items, confident that they would bring a smile back to her face.

….

Meanwhile, in the Imperial Medical Office.

Mei Yu frowned as he rummaged through the pulse records from the eighth of April when the imperial physician examined his mother.

The assistant beside him looked despondent, almost on the verge of tears.

“Mr. Mei, I know you are the son of the princess, so I dared to make an exception and let you in here, but this is really against the rules. Not long ago, Prince Mei also came by. What do our noble families want?”

Mei Yu’s fingers paused on the paper, and he looked up. “Who did you say?”

“The Prince Mei,” the assistant replied.

Mei Yu’s brows knitted tighter together.

Bao Ya had mentioned that there was something off between his parents, and it wasn’t unfounded.

He had carefully considered it; ever since the banquet for his mother’s birthday, he had sensed something different about her demeanor and that she appeared unwell.

On the eighth, the imperial physician Yang happened to come to the estate for a check-up.

After pondering for a moment, Mei Yu slowly closed the unfruitful pulse records, tossed a gold coin to the assistant, and nodded as he took his leave.

Since his father had already investigated and the pulse records showed nothing significant, it meant there was no problem with his mother’s health.

As long as it wasn’t that, he wouldn’t be afraid of anything, no matter how serious.

Stepping out of the medical office, the eldest son of the Mei family suddenly felt clarity in his mind; the haze lifted, revealing the demeanor of a refined young man.

He planned to go to Yiran Fang to buy some new candies to bring back for the little ancestor at home—he couldn’t let that wilting boy monopolize the title of “good brother.”

A horse-drawn carriage with a green canopy and red wheels rolled past on the spacious Zhuque Street, stirring up a light dust.

A breeze lifted part of the curtain, and in a fleeting glimpse, Mei Yu felt a sudden recognition.

“Grandmother?”

The well-kept woman’s side profile flashed by, and Mei Yu’s steps faltered, instinctively blinking.

Was that his grandmother from the old house in Jiangnan?

Why hadn’t she communicated her visit in advance?

That smoky-hued sleeve beside her—was it one of his cousins accompanying her?

No, wait.

With all the rumors in the capital lately, could it be that she had heard about his mother wanting to divorce…?

A multitude of questions churned in Mei Yu’s mind, and then he suddenly realized—hold on, that carriage had the insignia of the Prince Shen’s residence!

“Oh no!” The youth took off running.