In the dream, the woman quickly gave in, helplessly clinging to his neck, melting into a pool of water—enchanting and alluring. She said she was tired, yet continued to wrap around him. Clearly, she was deeply fond of him—her cheeks flushed red, and yet she looked utterly innocent. A sudden downpour rushed in, and the woman let out soft, delicate moans, stirring compassion.

“If I had known how brave you truly are, my lord, I would have coaxed you back sooner,” she murmured against his shoulder, her expression flushed with desire. “I can’t imagine anyone better than you.”

Zong Si returned to himself, his expression unchanged. Two dreams like this—it was hard not to find them unusual.

Outside the window, jade mountains stretched across the land, crystalline forests split in paths. A blackbird, full of lofty ambition like a swan’s, soared toward the heavens. But halfway, it lost its strength and plummeted straight into the woods.

Ning Fu couldn’t help but admire, “If a man has ambition, then what does death matter?”

“To die for one’s goals is admirable, yes—but reckless actions are not worth imitating,” came a calm voice behind her.

Only then did Ning Fu realize someone else was in the room. And that person—she didn’t particularly like.

Today, Zong Si wore a brocade robe and a jade crown, not his usual cool and noble look. In this setting, he carried a hint of elegance and charm.

Ning Fu politely bowed but said nothing.

They simply didn’t see the world the same way—there was no use conversing. If it were her, for the sake of Duke Ning’s household, she would throw herself into the fire without hesitation. They had already discussed the main matters last time, so this time Zong Si no longer carried that pressing, forceful air.

And over the past few days, Ning Fu had come to understand: whatever happened to her brother in the past, it no longer served her to dwell on it. Her goal shouldn’t be revenge—it should be to keep her brother from falling into trouble again.

Tying her interests to Zong Si’s and ensuring a proper exit strategy—that was the true solution. If her brother’s matter truly were his doing, then entering the tiger’s den would be the only way to seize the cub—the more she learned about his affairs, the better her chances of gaining leverage over him. And if it wasn’t, then for the sake of mutual interests, perhaps Zong Si could still offer some help.

“This place belongs to the Heir as well, doesn’t it?” Ning Fu didn’t wait for him to speak this time and sat directly across from Zong Si on the golden bamboo couch.

He didn’t respond, but Ning Fu could tell she hadn’t guessed wrong.

“The Bailing tea I had here last time was excellent. May I ask for another cup?” she said graciously. She wasn’t sure how he’d spread word, but within moments, someone arrived with a jade cup—though it was empty.

Ning Fu remained seated. Seeing him rise and light the charcoal, she offered gently, “Your injuries haven’t healed yet. Why not let me handle it instead?”

It wasn’t that she truly cared for Zong Si. Though they were husband and wife, time had eroded their bond. Still, a little show of consideration wouldn’t cost her much.

“Zong Ning is still young, spoiled into being blunt and lacking in tact. Don’t take her words to heart,” Zong Si said.

Ning Fu understood well—his criticism of Zong Ning was just a cover. He was protecting her. But she wasn’t sure if that “lacking in tact” was also a veiled jab at herself. “Sister Ning is someone with clear loves and hates. But I do hope the Heir will explain to her that I knew nothing of my grandmother’s arrangements.”

Fu Jiahui bringing her to Hanxiang Mountain likely served as a form of compensation. If it hadn’t been for Zong Ning, she wouldn’t have missed the snow-viewing.

Zong Si’s caution probably stemmed from the fear that she would retaliate against Zong Ning behind the scenes. In his eyes, Ning Fu was no simple girl.

Surprisingly, Zong Si’s tea-brewing technique was excellent; before long, the fragrance of tea filled the air.

Even with the Heir stooping to brew tea himself, Ning Fu didn’t feel flattered—only sighed inwardly. He wasn’t incapable of caring for others; he had simply chosen not to, in the past.

“Did your injury stem from the matter involving Minister Song?” Ning Fu asked, calm and composed. Since the case was already resolved yet delayed for six months, she figured Zong Si didn’t want the truth made public just yet. His injury, she suspected, was a means of buying time.

Without lifting his head, Zong Si replied flatly, “You want to know about me?”

Ning Fu weighed his tone carefully—there was no trace of blame in it. After considering for a moment, she ventured boldly, “The Heir warned me to guard against Minister Song, partly to do me a personal favor, and partly to take the opportunity to restrain my father. If I choose to have my father stay clear of the matter, it’s also very beneficial to you.”

Her father, Ning Zhenyuan, served in the Ministry of Personnel, overseeing official appointments. Naturally, his network was far-reaching. Though he wasn’t a direct threat, his involvement could bring endless complications. Although Zong Si didn’t belong to the same faction, the target this time wasn’t Ning Zhenyuan, so it was better to set things up so he wouldn’t be involved at all.

Zong Si’s eyes turned cold, yet a smile lingered at his lips. “Go on.”

Ning Fu couldn’t help feeling nervous, but she steadied herself and continued, “You asked me to handle matters for you—it’s a dual-purpose move. You do need to find Divine Physician Mu, but you’re also treating me like leverage. If my father insists on helping Elder Song, and I’m already entangled in this affair, you could use me to pressure him.”

That was why Zong Si had been so forthcoming with information regarding Minister Song—Ning Fu’s deeper involvement meant her father would be far less likely to act rashly. As for the tasks she took on for him, as long as Zong Si wished, her father would certainly hear about it.

“You don’t have to worry. If it benefits both of us, I’m willing,” she said calmly. She didn’t mind being used, so long as it was a win-win. Her words were meant to demonstrate her value.

But Zong Si didn’t respond as she had hoped.

Waiting for his reaction, Ning Fu accidentally tilted the teacup, and hot water splashed onto the back of her hand, reddening it instantly. The jade cup slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor.

Zong Si swiftly pulled her outside and pressed her injured hand into the snow.

They had shared a bed countless times. So when he reached for her hand, Ning Fu didn’t shy away. After pulling back, she thanked him, knowing he wouldn’t respond. So she asked instead, “If I get news of Divine Physician Mu, how should I contact you?”

Zong Si rubbed his fingertips—her hands were unusually cold. “Whether it’s about me or the shop, you can go to Qingtian Pavilion.”

In other words, even the shop matters—she could handle herself.

Ning Fu felt relieved. The most pressing matter now was to find an accountant—not because she didn’t trust Sister Fu, but because she wanted to start cultivating her own people early, so she wouldn’t find herself short-handed in the future.

With the business matters settled and the weight off her chest, she could better appreciate the spiritual beauty of the surrounding mountains and rivers.

As she voiced her reflections, Zong Si occasionally responded, exchanging a few thoughts with her. Although he remained aloof and difficult to approach, he was more receptive than usual.

Being Zong Si’s wife was a troubling experience—but doing business with him wasn’t half bad. For now, it worked best to treat him like a superior and serve accordingly.

Unnoticed, evening had fallen.

Ning Fu draped a cloak around her shoulders and, before leaving, offered another gesture of concern. “You’re still injured, Heir. Do try to rest early.”

Zong Si had no shortage of people who cared for him—especially those with insincere affection. So he didn’t respond.

The descent down the mountain was easier than the climb. Ning Fu noticed a few blooming plum branches, matching well with the atmosphere of Zong Si’s wooden lodge. After a moment of hesitation, she plucked several and made her way back.

Zong Si glanced at the plum blossoms in her hands with an unreadable expression.

“You might place them in a vase. It’d brighten up the room,” Ning Fu offered. The cold elegance of the plum blossoms felt rather fitting for him.

“Cut flowers may look beautiful for a time, but in the end, they’re dead things. Why covet mere appearances?” Zong Si didn’t reach out to take them.

Fortunately, Ning Fu was used to his rejections. She didn’t feel embarrassed; she simply drew the bouquet back into her arms. As she was about to smooth things over, she saw him reach out gently toward a lock of her hair. His breath was warm and calm, unhurried—just like his usual composed demeanor.

Ning Fu’s breath quickened slightly. For a man to tuck a woman’s hair aside—that was something with an air of intimacy. The next moment, a few petals drifted down. It turned out a blossom had fallen onto her hair, and he had brushed it away.

“There’s no need for flattery. You and I are strictly business. Such gestures may work on others, but with me, they’re a waste of effort,” Zong Si said bluntly.

As the carriage rolled into Duke Ning’s residence, Ning Fu began to ponder Zong Si’s behavior.

Brushing petals from a woman’s hair was a somewhat intimate gesture—unusual for his manner—but to say he harbored feelings for her? That was clearly out of the question. Women could usually sense when a man liked them. And from his eyes, Ning Fu saw not a trace of affection.

“Miss, these plum blossoms are so beautiful—more vibrant than the usual kind,” Dong Zhu said with a smile. Ning Fu had brought the bouquet back with her. “I’ll go find a vase for them.”

“And Mother?” Ning Fu searched through the courtyard but couldn’t find Madam Ning.

Dong Zhu replied, “Second Miss is pregnant. Madam went to the Wei residence with the Eldest Madam to visit her.”

Ning Fu was stunned for a moment, then did the math—this was indeed the time for Ning Ran’s first pregnancy.

Ning Ran had always had smooth sailing in her husband’s household. Her first child was the legitimate eldest son of the Wei family’s third branch; her second was the first girl among the Wei grandchildren. With the two most favored children, her position in the Wei household was solid as a mountain.

Though Ning Fu sometimes felt a little displeased with Ning Ran, she was still genuinely happy for her and began thinking about what gift to bring when she visited.

Having climbed the mountain earlier that day, Ning Fu was thoroughly exhausted. She skipped dinner and fell asleep as soon as she lay down.

That night’s dream was especially steamy—the man was Lu Xingzhi. The two were in that wooden cabin atop Hanxiang Mountain. Outside, snow covered everything for miles; inside, it was a blaze of passion.

Upon waking, Ning Fu downed a full cup of water, perplexed by her sudden longing for a man. Could her body be finally maturing?

Ever since her rebirth, she noticed new changes each month. She had already had multiple new sets of clothing tailored. Now she could clearly feel her chest had grown.

The next day, when Ning He came to visit, she saw the bouquet of plum blossoms and asked, “Fourth Sister, did you pick these on Hanxiang Mountain?”

“I did,” Ning Fu replied, and by the tone of her question, she knew something must be off with the flowers.

“That day, we also wanted to pick some, but the Heir said they’re called ‘Luofu Dream’ and are poisonous. Sister, you’d better throw them away,” Ning He said.

No wonder Zong Si brushed them from her hair so deliberately. But for him not to say anything directly—Ning Fu just felt he was coldhearted. Still, she’d never speak ill of him in public. “The mountain scenery was magnificent. I don’t regret going.”

“It’s just a bit too cold,” said Ning He. Despite wearing a thick cloak, her hands were flushed red from the chill.

“Why didn’t you stay in the wooden cabin?” asked Ning Fu.

“What cabin?” Ning He replied, confused.

That cabin was Zong Si’s private space. But Ning Fu didn’t think she was treated specially—he had simply had something to discuss with her at the time.

“Having a brother like the Heir is so nice. He always takes care of Sister Ning. Even if she gets herself into trouble, she doesn’t need to worry—he’ll handle everything for her,” Ning He said, envious.

But Ning Fu wasn’t feeling so cheerful. After all, it was because of Zong Ning that she’d received a warning from Zong Si. If she ever truly came into conflict with Zong Ning, she suspected she’d be the one “handled.”

—

Now that Ning Ran was pregnant, Old Madam Ning was overjoyed and personally asked Ning Fu to visit her at the Wei residence. Even the date of the visit had been chosen based on a feng shui master’s advice. Ning Fu was born in the Year of the Sheep, and four days later was said to bring the most fortune to Ning Ran—so that was the date set.

“Ning Ran has had no appetite lately. Your cook’s skills are good—have him prepare some pastries to send to your sister,” Old Madam Ning instructed Ning Fu.

Madam Wei interjected, “Don’t worry, Old Madam. The Wei household pampers Ning Ran dearly; they wouldn’t dream of neglecting her. It’s just that she can’t stomach much right now and craves sour food.”

“That probably means it’s a boy,” Old Madam said with a chuckle.

Madam Wei smiled but said nothing.

“If Ah Fu grows up to be as successful as Ning Ran, I’ll be satisfied,” Old Madam Ning added with a sigh.

Madam Wei, however, wasn’t so convinced. Ning Fu might have a good marriage, but finding someone better than her own son-in-law was next to impossible. Still, she replied with a smile, “Don’t worry about Ah Fu. With her looks, she won’t lack suitors. Even a prince from the palace would be a good match.”

“Better not mention that,” the old madam sighed. Though princes were noble, the ruthless fight for the throne across generations was infamous. How many were truly kind to their wives? Most treated them as pawns. Some wouldn’t even blink before killing them. She didn’t wish for her granddaughter to enter the palace.

The Wei family’s various branches had long since split into separate residences, but they still visited often and remained close.

When she heard Ning Fu would be visiting, Wei Ziyi headed early to her uncle’s house—the one belonging to Ning Ran’s branch—to wait for her.

“I heard you and Sister Ning have had a falling out. You must be feeling a little uneasy at the academy lately,” Wei Ziyi said warmly when she saw her. “In a few days, if I run into Cheng Shuang and Rong Min, I’ll talk to them.”

The two women she mentioned were fellow noble ladies from the academy and fairly close to Wei Ziyi.

Ning Fu was touched. “Don’t worry, Sister Wei. There’s no real conflict between us. She’s just feeling a little upset, that’s all.”

She didn’t hide anything and told Wei Ziyi in full detail about the rejected marriage proposal.

“Honestly, while the Duke of Qing’s household is most satisfied with the heir, Sister Xie has been considering more than just him. Nothing is set in stone yet. Her behavior makes it seem as if you’re the one interfering,” Wei Ziyi said, clearly indignant.

That was exactly what had bothered Ning Fu the most.

“Maybe you should just marry into our Wei family instead. Look at your sister—everyone adores her,” Wei Ziyi suggested.

But Second Sister’s favored status wasn’t just because the Wei family was kind—it was also because she was skilled at winning people over. She often compared herself with others, and by observing them closely, she’d developed keen instincts for reading the room.

Ning Fu smiled. “That wouldn’t do. People would say our two families are keeping all the good fortune to ourselves.”

Ning Ran was already deeply favored, and now that she was pregnant, she was treated like a treasure. Wei Xiao practically shadowed her, running around to take care of everything so she wouldn’t have to lift a finger.

“Brother-in-law really keeps his eyes wide open,” Ning Fu said with a smile.

“The first time a man becomes a father, he’s always like this. After a few children, it doesn’t last,” Ning Ran replied while holding Ning Fu’s hand, doting on her with concern. She even served her and Wei Ziyi the finest ginseng.

Although Ning Ran was showing off a little, she still preferred her own sister over the other Wei women. Better to treat her own kin than outsiders.

Ning Fu and Wei Ziyi spent the afternoon sunbathing with Ning Ran before bidding their farewells.

On the way back home, Ning Fu was about to rest when the carriage suddenly jolted to a stop.

“How dare you! Blocking a royal carriage—move aside!” came a sharp rebuke from outside.

Startled, Ning Fu quickly stepped out. The commander of the imperial guards gave her a cold glance; the coachman was already kneeling and trembling. She recognized the carriage opposite hers—it belonged to the Sixth Prince.

“Sixth Cousin?” she asked softly.

Meng Ze had just been humiliated by Zong Si and was fuming, looking for a place to vent. But the tender and cautious tone of her voice took the edge off his fury almost instantly.