“I’m well aware that the Lu family’s foundations aren’t deep. The lady I admire may not necessarily think highly of me, and even if she does, I’d never let her suffer any grievance.” Lu Xingzhi looked earnestly at Ning Fu as he spoke.

Ning Fu wasn’t sure if she was the one he meant, yet her heartbeat quickened nonetheless. She lifted her head. The young master before her had striking features. Though clad in simple black cloth, his handsome appearance rivaled any noble. He was like a rich cup of tea—one to be savored slowly.

“Young Master Lu is sure to get what he desires,” Ning Fu murmured, eyes lowered.

Seeing the tips of her ears turn red, Lu Xingzhi couldn’t help but smile. “I must take my leave. The weather is cold—Fourth Miss, please head back inside. Enjoy yourself in the palace the day after tomorrow.”

Though his words were merely courteous, Ning Fu couldn’t shake the feeling of intimacy in his tone—an almost tender affection, as if he were caring for a younger relative.

Dong Zhu’s gaze flickered between the two. Her lady and Young Master Lu hadn’t overstepped in the slightest, yet they inexplicably seemed well-matched.

“Take good care of your lady,” Lu Xingzhi said, then followed the escorting guards ahead.

Dong Zhu muttered to herself—his easy command over her felt almost familiar. If outsiders heard, they’d surely assume Young Master Lu was her young mistress’s future husband.

Still, Young Master Lu did indeed have an admirable bearing—not inferior to the sons of the Prince Xuan’s household.

“No wonder so many families in the capital are making inquiries about the Lu family—they probably have their eyes on Young Master Lu,” Dong Zhu said.

Ning Fu asked, “Where did you hear that?”

“I heard it from Cui Zhu, who serves Madam,” Dong Zhu replied. “She said a young lady from the Rong family has taken a liking to Young Master Lu. Madam Rong is busy seeking information about him.”

Now Ning Fu understood why Rong Min had targeted her during Zong Ning’s birthday gathering—it was because she’d fallen for Lu Xingzhi.

Her emotions were tangled. She, too, had feelings for Lu Xingzhi, but she knew that as long as no engagement was set, even if he had some affection for her, it wouldn’t stop others from expressing interest in him.

Besides, whether she could truly choose him for herself remained uncertain. If he really was striving to climb ranks for her sake, just the thought made Ning Fu ache with tenderness. Sweet, yet painful. But she was a woman of resolve—and for her, the title and responsibilities of the Duke’s Manor would always come first.

Before they knew it, New Year’s Eve had arrived. As the saying goes, “Spring comes as the old fades — the year ends tonight.” The Duke’s Manor was already adorned with new couplets and red lanterns, filled with laughter and cheerful chatter, all ready to welcome the new year.

Ning Yu had returned the day before. Though his official business remained unsettled and his heart heavy, he put all troubles aside for now and joined in the preparations.

As in previous years, the New Year’s Eve banquet was held at Old Madam Ning’s residence, Qin Garden. Aside from Ning Ran, who was married, and Ning Zheng, who could not return, all who should be present were. Even the concubines of the main house—Madam Zhang and Madam Mu—came today.

Madam Zhang was charming, Madam Mu was youthful, and both were attractive.

But it was Madam Zhang’s sweet tongue and adaptability that earned her favor. Even after being confined by Madam Wei for half a year, she could still act as if nothing had happened in front of Ning Zhenxiu—hence her continued favor.

“The Fourth Young Miss will soon enter the palace. This festive outfit is simply perfect for the occasion,” Madam Zhang said as she warmly approached Ning Fu, deliberately leaving her own daughter, Ning He, aside.

“I think Fifth Sister looks lovely today as well.” Dressed in a lotus-colored gauze skirt with a small round bun, Ning He resembled a delicate flower bud—very charming for her age.

She smiled at Ning Fu gratefully.

In truth, Madam Zhang looked down on her daughter. Compared to Ning Ran, Ning He lacked both talent and cunning. She held no hopes for her and chuckled, “Ning He is shallow in learning and only a concubine-born child. How could she compare to Fourth Miss?”

Old Madam Ning frowned. “Concubine-born or legitimate—they’re all my granddaughters. Just look—Ning He dressed herself up so attentively. She’s a beauty, too. You ought to guide her more. If I hadn’t told someone to measure her for clothes, she likely wouldn’t even have this new outfit.”

As it happened, Ning He had taken Ning Fu’s words to heart and repeatedly visited Old Madam to voice her lack of clothing. Moved, the old madam arranged to have garments made for her.

Now, seeing Old Madam stand up for her again, Ning He couldn’t help but wipe away tears.

Madam Wei sneered inwardly. Madam Zhang was truly foolish, not even protecting her own daughter. But Madam Wei preferred to let her keep stumbling, saying nothing and merely smiling.

Chastised, Madam Zhang shot a sharp glance at Ning He but still outwardly agreed.

After all, it was New Year’s Eve. Old Madam didn’t want to dwell on unpleasant matters and instead listed the year’s joyful events at the Duke’s Manor: Ning Ran’s pregnancy and Ning Fu’s accomplishments in archery. All in all, a smooth and fulfilling year—and may the next be just as fortunate.

Because Ning Fu needed to enter the palace, the banquet ended earlier than usual.

Madam Zhang turned to Ning Zhenxiu and coyly said, “My lord, would you accompany me for a walk? I’ve overeaten a little.”

Ning Zhenxiu glanced at Madam Wei; by tradition, he should stay by his primary wife’s side.

“My lord, I haven’t seen you in so long. This is my only small request,” Madam Zhang pleaded humbly. If she couldn’t win over the master, how could she hope to bear a son?

Ning Zhenxiu relented, deciding he’d spend the night with Madam Wei later. “Let’s go.”

Madam Wei was boiling inside—but on the surface, she remained gracious, pretending nothing had happened.

On the side of the second household, Madam Ning and Ning Zhenyuan were on pleasant terms. Ever since their reconciliation, the two had been practically inseparable whenever Ning Zhenyuan was home.

Together, they saw Ning Fu off as she boarded the carriage.

“Between Consort Zong and the Empress, be careful not to favor one over the other,” Ning Zhenyuan said solemnly.

Even her father was aware of the discord in the harem, which spoke volumes about how strained relations between the Consort and the Empress must be.

Still, Ning Fu understood them. Forget the palace — even in ordinary households, mothers would fight tooth and nail for their sons.

The palace was exactly as she remembered: opulent, dignified, resplendent, standing proudly at the heart of the capital—yet heavy with a suffocating silence, every step demanding utmost caution. Only a select few were permitted to celebrate New Year’s Eve with the royal family. Aside from a few young nobles of Prince Xuan’s household, it was just Xie Ruyi and Ning Fu.

Xie Ruyi was slightly different—she had received this honor several times in previous years.

Ning Fu knew Zong Si and Zong Duo. But when it came to the Emperor Jingwen’s sons, she could only vaguely recognize the Fourth Prince Meng Che, son of the Empress, and the Third Prince Meng Yuan and Sixth Prince Meng Ze, both born of Consort Zong.

She gifted several of her snow-white skin pills to the consorts.

“I’ve heard this is a recipe from Doctor Mu. I’ve wanted to try it for some time, but the chance never came. I didn’t expect Fourth Young Miss to bring it today,” the Empress said warmly.

Consort Zong threw a sarcastic glance at the Empress, then looked at Ning Fu—her heart subtly stirred. Though she’d heard many praise Ning Fu’s beauty, she’d always scoffed. No matter how striking, could she compare to how Consort Zong herself once looked? But seeing her in person today, she had to admit: the rumors were true. If she weren’t Ning Zhenyuan’s daughter, she might actually match well with one of her three nephews.

“The Fourth Young Miss truly blossoms with grace,” Consort Zong added with a smile.

Ning Fu bowed and replied politely, “Your Highness flatters me.”

Emperor Jingwen remarked, “You’re quite thoughtful, girl. This is your first time entering the palace, and yet not one of my consorts was left out.”

Then his gaze fell on the white parrot in the nearby cage. Compared to before, it had grown thinner and more listless, hunched pitifully in the cage. He frowned. “A fine parrot — how did you manage to raise it into this sorry state?”

Ning Fu knelt and bowed, sincerely admitting her fault: “Replying to Uncle, in order to raise the parrot well, my eldest uncle personally helped me find a bird servant. Yet I truly lack the skill to care for it, so I brought it into the palace, hoping Uncle might advise me.”

Though it was Meng Ze who had urged her to bring the parrot, mentioning him now was out of the question.

“Only the sixth child knows how to raise birds. Let him take care of it for you,” said Emperor Jingwen.

“I accept your command,” Meng Ze rose and bowed.

Ning Fu glanced in Meng Ze’s direction—he looked back at her too, expression half-smiling, half indifferent, but only for a fleeting moment before he withdrew his gaze, as if the parrot had nothing to do with him, nor was it his suggestion.

Nearby, Zong Si remained impassive, clearly uninterested in anything concerning her.

Ning Fu recalled that day when he was practicing swordplay—the way his blade had lifted her chin, its chilling touch still vivid. At the time, she thought perhaps he truly hadn’t recognized her. But then again, if he hadn’t, that sword might have already run her through. He’d clearly held back his strength when the blade pressed against her chin. That posture, on closer thought, had a faint air of playful teasing. If it had been someone else, Ning Fu might have assumed they were flirting outright.

Yet Zong Si never behaved intimately with her. He had even driven her away more than once. It didn’t seem like he had feelings for her. Though she couldn’t understand his behavior, she chose not to dwell on it.

“Thank you, Uncle, for finding a solution,” she said, relieved that the parrot matter was resolved. She then turned to Meng Ze with soft gratitude, “Thank you, Sixth Cousin.”

Such a gentle thank-you from a beauty brightened the mood considerably. Meng Ze smiled, “Just a minor help, Cousin—you’re too kind.”

Emperor Jingwen granted Ning Fu a seat next to Princess Jingwen.

The princess asked curiously, “Your archery is so impressive—are you also skilled in horseback riding?”

“I can just barely manage,” Ning Fu replied modestly.

“Then do you play cuju?” Princess Jingwen asked. “If you do, join me for the next match—we can be teammates.”

Finding Ning Fu so amiable, Jingwen warmed to her.

On the other side, Meng Ze had been stealing glances at her. Compared to his sister Jingwen, Fourth Young Miss was like a plump, crystal-clear peach. He’d seen many women before, but in two years, Ning Fu’s figure would be nothing short of divine.

A woman so gentle, yet spirited—one rarely finds both qualities together. If the opportunity ever arose, keeping her close wouldn’t be a bad idea. But that would have to wait until Ning Zhenyuan no longer had the power to protect her.

Zong Duo frowned, having caught on to Meng Ze’s thoughts. Yet he had no grounds to speak up, so he silently downed another cup of wine. By the end of the banquet, he’d consumed an entire pot. Even his usually blank face showed clear signs of displeasure.

Zong Si pressed down on his wine cup and said calmly, “There’s still the fireworks banquet later. Do you intend to make a fool of yourself?”