Chapter 1 – Her Son Died in Her Arms

On the day Tang Chaoyang was shackled in heavy iron chains and escorted by imperial soldiers to the frigid northern city of Hancheng,
her husband, Fei Yan—the man who had once tangled with her night after night—was welcoming the daughter of the Imperial Tutor, Dong Xinrui, into his home with a grand wedding procession spanning ten miles.

For all these years, Tang Chaoyang had loved him wholeheartedly.
But he never loved her.

With undisguised loathing, he had once told her:
“If you’re willing to become a favored concubine, I can plead with His Majesty to let you stay in the estate.”
“If you hadn’t used those tricks back then, I would never have married you as my wife.”

In a daze, Tang Chaoyang was dragged outside the city gates by the soldiers.

Onlookers filled the streets, pointing and whispering.
Her illegitimate younger sister—who had long despised her but never had the means to act against her—stood at a teahouse window and laughed at her misfortune.

Everyone believed that she deserved this downfall.

Everyone except her son—
The only person who, with his whole heart, loved this unworthy mother.

The little boy had slipped out of the estate amid the wedding celebrations, staggering after her, following her all the way to Hancheng.

---

In a ruined temple in Hancheng, the wind howled with bitter cold.

“An’an, eat this… if you eat, you can survive.”
A woman swathed in ragged clothing knelt on the ground.

In her arms was a child, thin as a skeleton.
Her hands were swollen and cracked from the freezing wind, fingertips split and bleeding—
But she still managed to steadily hold a broken bowl.

Inside was food.

A thin, meager soup of wild vegetables.
Something she had begged for door to door.

In the frozen wastelands of Hancheng, nothing but ice stretched to the horizon in winter. Wild game was nowhere to be found.
The locals had long prepared food supplies before the cold set in.

But Tang Chaoyang and her son had only arrived yesterday.
They had no money, no food.
She had no choice but to drag her numb legs from house to house, knocking, begging.

Now, with trembling hands, Tang Chaoyang tried to feed the soup to her son.

Fei An’an slowly shook his head. His large, bright eyes stared up at her with unwavering reliance.
Still sick, his breathing was labored, his voice weak.
“Mother… you eat.”

He refused to eat.

People had already said he wouldn’t survive much longer,
So he wanted her to have the food. He wouldn’t eat it.

Hearing this frail sentence from her son,
Tang Chaoyang’s tears finally fell.

Just earlier today, she had knelt and kowtowed in the medical hall, giving up all her noble pride to beg for help—
but to no avail.

She, Tang Chaoyang, once the pampered legitimate daughter of the Marquis of Yong’en’s household,
had now been exiled to Hancheng under an edict from the Empress Dowager.

The man she had loved most in her life—her husband—
loathed her so much he hadn’t said a word in her defense.
Instead, on the very same day, he took another woman into his home as his official wife.

Did she regret loving him?

Fei An’an had been running a high fever for two days.
If it continued, she might lose him forever.

When she was first brought to Hancheng, she hadn’t cried.
When she started begging, she hadn’t cried.
Even when she knelt in the snow to plead with doctors, she hadn’t shed a tear.

But now—

Now, watching her son clamp his frozen lips shut, trying to save the soup for her—
she broke down.

She sobbed with soul-wrenching despair.

Pulling up her sleeve, she revealed her slender, pale, emaciated wrist.
She pulled the hairpin from her hair—
and, without hesitation, sliced open her wrist.

Warm, red blood flowed.

It was the only warmth left in her body.

With tears and madness in her voice, Tang Chaoyang coaxed her son,
“An’an, please… drink it. If you don’t, it’ll be wasted.”

The blood-soaked bracelet on her wrist looked even uglier and cheaper now.

That bracelet had been a gift from her mother-in-law the first time she visited with Fei Yan.
Tang Chaoyang had never seen such a cheap and shabby “present” in her life—
but she had still smiled brightly, taken off her priceless jade bangle,
and put on this worthless trinket—just to please Fei Yan.

Expressionless, she took off the bracelet and threw it to the ground.

Fei An’an’s lips were already turning bluish-purple from the cold.

He hadn’t drunk the blood his mother offered.
His breathing grew shallower and weaker.
“Mother… it doesn’t hurt.”

This little life…
was fading away.

Tang Chaoyang held him tightly, her eyes hollow.

Perhaps… they wouldn’t last much longer either.

The wind outside howled, rattling through the broken temple’s crumbling walls.

---

Meanwhile, in the capital.

Though winter had also arrived, it was nothing compared to the deadly chill of Hancheng.

Fei Yan returned to the Prime Minister’s estate after an audience at the palace.
Servants greeted him respectfully as he passed.

Inside the inner courtyard, the rooms were warm and cozy, silver charcoal glowing in the brazier.

“Husband, you’re back,” Dong Xinrui greeted softly with a smile.

She set down her embroidery. A maid knelt to help her into her embroidered slippers.
Another brought a tray of warm tea.

Fei Yan removed his black fur cloak and handed it to a servant.
With a faint, gentle expression on his handsome face, he took Dong Xinrui’s hand and led her to sit down.

Dong Xinrui lowered her eyes with shy modesty.
After he sipped his tea, she finally asked hesitantly:

“Have you found An’an? Ah Yan, I couldn’t sleep all night… I’ve been so worried.”

Fei Yan knew she hadn’t slept well since discovering Fei An’an was missing.

“He went to Hancheng with Tang Chaoyang,” he said coldly.

“What?” Dong Xinrui’s face shifted from shock to worry.
“He’s just a child… why didn’t Sister persuade him to come back?”

Her brows furrowed, remorse flickering on her face.

“Ah Yan, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have stayed so long at the hot spring villa. If I’d come back sooner, I might have noticed he was missing… It’s been over a month. I don’t know if he’s even okay.”

Fei Yan patted the back of her hand.
“It’s not your fault.”

The day after their wedding, he had taken her to the villa because her limbs grew cold in winter.
They spent two days there before he received a decree to handle affairs at the Jiang estate.
They had only just returned to the Prime Minister’s estate yesterday—
and only then did they discover Fei An’an was missing.

Ever since Tang Chaoyang’s exile, and with the new wife entering the household,
the servants assigned to Fei An’an had naturally stopped caring.

Especially since most of them were newly bought by the steward from brokers after Fei Yan became Prime Minister—
and not yet properly trained.

“You’ll need to help reorganize the servants,” he said.

“I understand.”

Dong Xinrui had always addressed herself as “I” rather than “this concubine” when speaking with Fei Yan, showing the intimacy between them.

She looked up at him.
“Ah Yan, I’ll arrange for someone to go to Hancheng and bring An’an back. I heard it’s unbearably cold there. A child… he can’t handle that.”

Fei Yan took another sip of tea.
“No need to send anyone. The Su family will be going to fetch them soon.
Besides, His Majesty has already issued the decree of separation.”

When she heard that His Majesty himself had decreed Tang Chaoyang and Fei Yan’s divorce,
Dong Xinrui blinked back tears, her beautiful face blooming with a radiant smile.

Seeing her about to cry, Fei Yan gently added,
“Xinrui, from now on, there will be only one mistress in the Prime Minister’s estate—and that’s you.”

Though he said it lightly, Dong Xinrui understood it was a promise.

She smiled sweetly.

She was now the Prime Minister’s wife.
Tang Chaoyang had no place in the estate anymore.

After a pause, Dong Xinrui said,
“Ah Yan, I still think we should send someone to bring An’an back. After all, he’s your blood.
We can’t let the Su family take him away.
Please, send Guard Cheng to Hancheng to retrieve him—won’t you?”

She would never let Tang Chaoyang take Fei An’an away.

That child should stay in the Prime Minister’s estate—under her watchful eye.

Fei Yan nodded calmly.
“Alright. I’ll go wash up first.”

A smile played at Dong Xinrui’s lips.

In her mind, Tang Chaoyang should be grateful for her generosity.
It was she, Dong Xinrui, who allowed Fei An’an to return to the estate and enjoy the wealth and honor of being a Prime Minister’s son.

But neither of them knew—
as they sat talking comfortably,

Fei An’an would not live to see the day anyone came to take him home.

Wealth and honor meant nothing to him now—
because he was dying.

Fei An’an looked at his mother with hazy eyes and gave her one last innocent smile.

His small hand slipped softly to the ground.

No one knew how much time passed.

Tang Chaoyang held her now-lifeless son, tears falling silently, one after another.

The little body in her arms was already stiff with cold.

She wanted to scream and wail—

But every cry of heartbreak was lodged in her throat.

Only a quiet, choking sob remained…

Her An’an was gone.