The chamber was cold and silent. Ning Fu’s limbs had long gone numb, yet she stood frozen in place. Her eyes were bloodshot, but she held back the tears.

Zong Si merely watched her indifferently—like one might look at a sparrow or a tree—no emotion, just the cold stare reserved for trivial objects.

They stood locked in a silent standoff. Ning Fu, truthfully, had no aura of defiance to speak of.

“I have no intention of uncovering any secrets you may hold, Heir,” she finally yielded—not out of fear, but because at this stage, acting on pride would do her no good.

Zong Si replied coolly, “Yet I find myself quite interested in the Fourth Miss’s secrets.”

A breeze fluttered the jade-trimmed scrolls on the art desk—prescriptions Ning Fu had handed to Fu Jiahui days prior. She now understood why Zong Si had appeared in person today—it must be about those prescriptions.

The formulas themselves were sound. But the man who had once given them to her in a past life was far from ordinary.

“What secrets could someone like me possibly have? Whatever you ought to know, surely you know already,” she deflected calmly.

Zong Si motioned to Fu Jiahui, who then left the room. Soon, fragrant tea was brought in. Ning Fu, accustomed to fine things, instantly recognized the rich scent—it was Bailixue, the most aromatic of all teas.

“Fourth Miss needn’t be so modest. If you were simple, I wouldn’t be here today,” Zong Si said, pouring her a cup.

Originally, Zong Si hadn’t cared about Ning Fu’s desire to open a shop. At most, he’d noted her unauthorized commercial pursuits. But when Fu mentioned Ning Fu’s plan to use his mother’s status to promote her venture, he decided to review her formulas himself. Upon inspection, he discovered that even the slightest change in dosage would make them lethally toxic—but if followed precisely, the effects were extraordinary.

Only the elusive Divine Physician Mu Ruoheng could craft such formulas. Known for his eccentric and severe temperament, Mu Ruoheng despised patients who ignored medical guidance. Those who sought his aid dared not disregard a single word he spoke. And for over a decade, no one in the world had seen this physician. Yet the Fourth Miss somehow possessed his prescriptions—clearly, she was no ordinary woman, though that was hardly the most confounding thing about her.

“You want me to help you find him?” Ning Fu asked, regaining her composure.

Zong Si’s slight lift of an eyebrow confirmed her suspicions.

“And what if I refuse?” she asked, lowering her head, her features soft and submissive. Anyone not paying attention to her words might mistake her for an innocent young girl.

“The Fourth Miss is a filial soul. Surely she will consider the interests of Duke Ning’s manor.” Zong Si had already seized upon her weakest point.

When outmatched, resistance is never a wise move.

Had Ning Fu known the true power behind the Fu family was Zong Si himself, she would never have handed over those prescriptions. But alas, there is no remedy for regret.

After a moment’s silence, Ning Fu bit her lip and said, “The Divine Physician is elusive and unpredictable. Whether I want to find him or not… it’s hardly within my control.”

“I’ll give you half a year.”

Ning Fu weighed the time in her mind—half a year wasn’t unreasonable.

“May I ask what it is that you seek from the Divine Physician?”

Zong Si let out a soft chuckle, though even his smile carried no warmth. “Do you know of a poison called Jade Hibiscus? I want the antidote.”

His frankness sent a ripple of unease through Ning Fu. The more she knew, the harder it would be to free herself. Hastily, she replied, “I spoke out of turn.”

Zong Si dismissed her concern: “No matter. You’d have learned it eventually.”

So he meant to drag her into deep waters—and this matter surely wouldn’t be the only one. Her heart sank, though her expression remained unreadable. She lowered her gaze and said, “I’ll assist you. But I hope that when it comes to my father, you’ll show him some mercy.”

“For the matter regarding Minister Song, your father needn’t petition the court on his behalf,” Zong Si replied.

Ning Fu was stunned. Then she recalled her earlier visit to the Lu residence—Lu Xingzhi had mentioned traveling to Langya, likely to investigate the Minister Song affair.

The bribery case involving Minister Song was a major scandal in her past life. Her father, unaware of the truth, had appealed on Minister Song’s behalf, provoking Emperor Jingwen’s fury and putting the entire Duke of Ning’s household in jeopardy. But that incident had occurred six months later—she now realized it had already been resolved.

She asked gently, “Has your injury been healing well?” In times like these, keeping up appearances mattered.

Zong Si looked at her across the art desk. Her eyes were still red—such a pitiful sight—but her back remained straight and her voice calm. Clearly, she had mastered the art of playing vulnerable, but it might not be a genuine weakness.

Women who speak sweetly and think sharply are the ones most worth guarding against.

And Zong Si didn’t deny it—Ning Fu truly was beautiful. Even in disarray, she carried a striking charm.

When he handed her a silk handkerchief, Ning Fu glanced up in confusion.

“Clean yourself up,” he said blandly. “Otherwise, Miss Fu might get the wrong idea—that you were mistreated here.”

Ning Fu instantly caught his meaning. Though she didn’t believe Zong Si would ever flirt with her, the thought—especially tied to her suspicions about Ning Zheng’s death—made her stomach churn.

A glance in the nearby mirror explained it all: her tear-wet eyes had turned misty, her lips were flushed and red from biting. She looked as if she’d just shared a night of intimacy.

Ning Fu only felt embarrassed.

After leaving the Qingtian Pavilion, Dong Zhu saw her and immediately asked with concern, “Miss, did something happen?”

Ning Fu couldn’t tell her how shaken she was by today’s events, so she simply comforted her: “It’s a bit of a tricky situation, nothing to worry about.”

But Ning Fu herself couldn’t calm down for a long time. She had been Zong Si’s wife for three years, yet never realized his ties to the Fu family.

If Ning Zheng’s death truly had something to do with him, Ning Fu wouldn’t sit idly by—even if it meant that Zong Si had to die.

As for her dealings with Zong Si, she was under his control and couldn’t refuse. Although the arrangement was still somewhat beneficial at this time, Ning Fu knew all too well the nature of such profit-driven people. The Prince Xuan’s residence and the Duke Ning’s residence had never been on the same side. For now, Zong Si could offer her father some convenience, but if the time came, he would show no mercy.

Even in her previous life, perhaps she simply hadn’t lived long enough to witness Zong Si crossing swords with her father. What would happen in ten years—who could say?

Ning Fu felt a pang of regret. While Lu Xingzhi was a decent man, he was powerless against Zong Si. Her marriage would need to be reconsidered more carefully.

After the Winter Solstice, snow kept falling one round after another, quickly piling up to nearly half a foot deep. Even before dawn, people were already up sweeping the snow.

Traveling by carriage became much harder. Ning Fu had to wake up half an hour earlier than usual just to reach the academy on time.

Ning He had also been released from her punishment and was to return to the academy. But as a concubine-born daughter, her carriage was too small and prone to slipping on snowy roads, so she rode with Ning Fu.

Ning Fu was diligent, rarely idle on her way to the academy—either reading or reciting from the Book of Songs. Ning He didn’t dare slack off either.

“Fourth Sister, your outfit is really beautiful,” Ning He said, unable to focus on her book and kept looking at her.

Among all the young ladies in the capital, Fourth Sister had the best sense of fashion.

Ning He envied Ning Fu for having a strong and doting mother who raised her so well, flawless from head to toe. Even her hair was jet-black and lustrous, smooth as fine silk, unlike her own mother, Madam Zhang, who only dreamed of bearing a son and never cared about her, treating her with beatings and scolding.

Ning Fu thought for a moment. Fifth Sister was already of marriageable age and surely loved pretty things. She said, “After class, you can come over and pick out a couple of outfits from mine.”

“Really?” Ning He’s eyes lit up.

“Of course it’s true,” Ning Fu replied with a smile, then asked curiously, “Why are all the clothes your aunt made for you so plain?”

Ning He looked slightly downcast at the question. “My birth mother only cares about marrying me into a good family and rarely pays attention to me. Mother chooses all my clothes, but she doesn’t really like me.”

The “Mother” Ning He referred to was the principal wife of the main household—Madam Wei.

Ning Fu couldn’t help but find Madam Wei’s approach a bit petty. If it were her, even if she didn’t favor a concubine-born daughter, she wouldn’t be stingy with clothing or necessities. After all, such daughters didn’t fight for the family inheritance, and the money spent wasn’t out of Madam Wei’s own pocket. Why not be a bit more generous? Perhaps after marriage, the girl could even help her natal family.

Harmony at home was the foundation of all prosperity—what the ancestors said was surely true.

“You should spend more time attending to Grandmother. She’ll naturally provide you with things,” Ning Fu advised. Although Grandmother wasn’t particularly fond of Fifth Sister, she was still her biological granddaughter.

It wasn’t that Ning Fu was unwilling to share these items—it’s just that their second branch of the family had no place interfering in the matters of the main house. Otherwise, Aunt Wei might start harboring resentment. Helping others was one thing, but causing trouble for her own side was another.

After Ning Fu’s relationship with Zong Ning became fragile, she found herself ostracized at the academy. In truth, Zong Ning had simply chosen to side with Xie Ruyi and refused to speak to her—not necessarily intending to isolate her. But others quickly followed suit, “instinctively” picking sides.

With Wei Ziyi soon to be married and having left the academy, there was no one left to smooth things over—no girls around to share a few words with her.

Ning Fu had always been kind and rarely quarreled with others. This sort of situation was something she was facing for the first time in both of her lifetimes. She was no longer a young girl, so she didn’t feel truly sad—but the sense of loss was certainly there. Still, she wouldn’t spend too long at the academy in a day; it was simply a matter of having no one to talk to.

In the days that followed, the snow-viewing excursion was being planned, but no one invited her. And it happened to be the perfect time for admiring the snow—missing it meant waiting until next year.

Ning He, who had received an invitation, hesitated over whether to go.

Ning Fu encouraged her: “Since you were invited, you should go. Right now, the snow scenery on Hanxiang Mountain is at its best. Besides, building a good relationship with them will be more beneficial than not. Who knows—one of them might become your future sister-in-law.”

Having a good relationship with one’s sister-in-law was no trivial matter. If there were a conflict, the household would struggle to find peace.

Ning He blushed bright red. In the end, wearing a skirt gifted by Ning Fu, she went along. She returned brimming with excitement, recounting the outing in animated detail—leaving Ning Fu with deep regret.

She naturally chalked that disappointment up to Zong Si. But at the moment, what worried her more was the matter of the shop. Fu Jiahui hadn’t given any firm answer yet, and while Ning Fu’s dealings with Zong Si were one thing, she hoped he wouldn’t interfere in something as minor as this. The thought weighed on her and made the days feel long—though fortunately, she didn’t have to wait too much longer.

Under the pretense of inviting her to view the snow, Fu Jiahui met with her again.

Hanxiang Mountain’s summit was a prime spot for enjoying the snowy scenery—not only expensive, but requiring a reservation well in advance. It was incredibly rare to secure a date, so the noble ladies often went together, benefitting from the connections of Xie Ruyi and Zong Ning. Only then could they enjoy such an expansive vista of snowy silk stretched endlessly before them.

The path up the mountain was blanketed in pure white—whiter than goose down. It felt like stepping into a celestial realm of endless white clouds. Fine snow drifted from the sky like a thousand flowers blooming, and every tree seemed to awaken, full of life yet steeped in a profound stillness and grandeur.

“Scenery like this really calms the heart and mind,” Ning Fu murmured from inside the carriage, gazing out.

“Looking down from the summit, it stretches out for miles,” Fu Jiahui replied with a smile. “The mountaintop lodge is warm, perfect for brewing snow and sipping wine—it’s truly relaxing.”

“I wonder what plans you have for the shop?” Ning Fu asked bluntly. It was a topic that had to be discussed sooner or later; better to spend time enjoying the scenery after clearing it up.

“I’ve already made arrangements. We’ll start with just one store. If it sells well, we’ll open another in the north of the city and one in the south,” Fu Jiahui explained. “If it incurs losses, you won’t need to bear them. The heir said it’s part of your compensation.”

Ning Fu thought to herself, Zong Si wasn’t necessarily being kind. He had likely calculated that the formula for the Snow-Skin Cream would surely sell well; after all, he was well aware of Divine Physician Mu’s skills.

“Thank you, Sister Fu.”

“But as for profit sharing, it’ll have to be thirty-seven,” Fu Jiahui added, dampening the mood under Zong Si’s orders.

Although dissatisfied, Ning Fu knew it wasn’t Fu Jiahui’s call—it was Zong Si’s doing. He clearly saw the lucrative potential of this business.

In no time, they arrived at the mountaintop. Though the ice sculptures along the way were magnificent, they couldn’t compare to those at the peak. Smooth and radiant, they were indistinguishable from jade.

“The wine from below will arrive shortly. You can rest in the cabin first,” Fu Jiahui said.

The bed inside the cabin faced the wide-open window, yet no chill crept in—only the breathtaking view of the snow-covered mountains.

Ning Fu was mesmerized, leaning on the windowsill, unaware someone had entered. The newcomer didn’t disturb her. She had removed her cloak for ease of movement, revealing a fitted dress that accentuated her silhouette—her hips rounded and lifted, her slender waist cinched by a pale belt, and even her chest appeared more prominent.

It wasn’t the first time Zong Si had taken notice of her figure. He had seen it before when she disguised herself as a dancer—though he couldn’t tell whether she was deliberately seductive or not.

Zong Si’s thoughts drifted to a far more indulgent dream from the previous night: she’d gazed at him with sultry eyes, obediently curled beneath him. Moments later, she furrowed her brows, pouted, and said coquettishly, “I’m done. Tired.”

Even her complaints sounded like invitations.

“You’re too heavy, I can’t breathe,” she had said, pushing him gently. When he didn’t budge, she giggled and teased, “If you want more, beg me for it.”

Though he wore a cold expression, he wasn’t angry. After a moment of eye contact, he leaned down and kissed her—an unmistakable gesture of desire.