Zong Si’s words calmed Zong Duo down quite a bit. They were currently in the imperial palace, not the royal residence, and he knew to mind his manners. Though his expression remained stiff, he didn’t touch his wine cup again.

Consort Zong, having heard the commotion on their side, glanced over and chuckled, “‘Immortal by the River’ is among the finest of wines. If Duo’er likes it, why stop him?”

Emperor Jingwen added, “We’re celebrating the New Year among family—if someone gets a little drunk, so be it. In such a vast palace, surely there’s no shortage of places to rest.”

“Thank you for your concern, Aunt and Uncle,” Zong Duo replied.

Then Emperor Jingwen turned to Ning Fu, teasing, “Fu’er, would you like to try this wine? I recall you having quite the sweet tooth.” He was referring to the time she got drunk during the autumn hunt.

Ning Fu looked a little embarrassed and said, “After returning home, my mother scolded me soundly. Since then, I’ve decided to avoid alcohol—otherwise, I doubt she’d let me off again.”

Emperor Jingwen couldn’t help but laugh, and Meng Ze also chuckled quietly. Curious, Princess Jingwen asked her what had happened, and Ning Fu candidly recounted her drunken episode in the mountains.

“If I’d known it was so fun, I would’ve joined the hunt myself,” Jingwen said wistfully—she longed for that sense of freedom.

Ning Fu smiled without responding; she didn’t dare use the hunt to tempt the princess any further.

After the banquet, the long-awaited fireworks lit up the night sky—dazzling like meteors, glowing like precious jade. They cast the palace in fleeting shadows, enhancing its grandeur, then burst open like blossoms in the heavens—breathtakingly beautiful.

Jingwen grabbed Ning Fu’s hand and wove through the princes and young nobles, trying to find an unobstructed view. In their haste, the nobles had no time to react—Ning Fu collided with someone’s chest, the pain so sharp it made stars dance before her eyes.

“Did I injure you, sir?” she asked, too concerned about offending a noble to mind her own discomfort.

Zong Si glanced down at her and gave her a light, supporting touch. But because of the angle, her blossoming chest inadvertently entered his line of sight. He quickly looked away and said coolly, “Watch where you’re going.”

Ning Fu paused, then felt relieved—it was Zong Si. That was better than if it had been one of Emperor Jingwen’s sons.

“It was I who walked too quickly,” Jingwen spoke up for her. “Cousin, don’t blame her.”

Zong Si didn’t look at Ning Fu. To Jingwen, he said, “Do you think someone else will take our spot? There’s no need to rush.”

Jingwen stuck out her tongue at him playfully and turned to Ning Fu. “Let’s go.”

Ning Fu paused and gave Zong Si a polite curtsy before following Jingwen to the frontmost spot by the riverside.

Zong Ning and Xie Ruyi were already there.

Ever since being scolded by her brother, Zong Ning felt a bit awkward when seeing Ning Fu. But Ning Fu offered her a warm smile—she clearly held no grudge.

“Elder sister Ning,” Zong Ning greeted her, though her tone was a little stiff.

After that brief exchange, they each turned their attention to the fireworks, quietly captivated.

Zong Duo, however, barely glanced at the spectacle. His eyes stayed on Ning Fu’s graceful figure. He used to think women’s attire was overly ornate, but today, he finally understood its beauty—it made Fourth Miss appear like frost and snow. If he could have a wife like her, he’d gladly hand over all his salary for her to buy clothes. As a man, he had little need to spend silver for himself anyway.

Ning Fu turned her head inadvertently and saw the Fourth Prince gazing tenderly at Xie Ruyi.

So, Prince Meng Che had loved Xie Ruyi for that long. No wonder in her previous life, after marrying her, they had lived harmoniously, like a perfectly matched melody—affectionate and true.

Instinctively, Ning Fu looked for Zong Si in the crowd. In this life, if he still wished to marry Xie Ruyi, he now had Prince Meng Che as a rival. It might not be so easy. If he were to lose his beloved again, who knows whom he’d end up marrying this time?

Zong Si glanced at her once, then looked away. Beside him, Zong Duo remained as devoted and solemn as ever.

In Ning Fu’s eyes, Zong Duo could be considered a good man—someone who would never betray his wife, never spare a glance for another woman. His integrity and sense of responsibility were ingrained in him, bone-deep.

Zong Si, on the other hand, was harder to judge. Whether good or bad, he seemed solely devoted to the interests of Prince Xuan’s residence. In matters of affection, he wasn’t the faithful type. Though often surrounded by women, it was they who became ensnared by him—he never allowed himself to be taken advantage of in the slightest.

Looking at Zong Duo, Ning Fu recalled events from her past life. After the New Year, both Zong Duo and Zong Si would head to the northern region, where Zong Duo would suffer a surprise ambush—wounded so severely he’d lose part of his little finger.

She had once intended to use this incident as leverage during autumn hunting season, when Zong Si had held the scandal involving the dancing girl against her. She had wanted to trade knowledge of Zong Duo’s ambush in exchange for silence. But now, Zong Si would likely no longer use the dancing girl issue as a threat.

After a moment’s reflection, Ning Fu decided she’d be better off warning Zong Duo directly. He was more genuine than Zong Si and would certainly be deeply grateful. That debt of gratitude might one day prove useful.

Today’s parting might be their last chance to speak—seeing him again wouldn’t be easy. She had to find an opening to talk to him.

Moments later, Ning Fu noticed Zong Duo looking at her. She offered him a gentle smile, bright and lively like peach blossoms in spring—radiant enough to make everyone else around her fade into the background.

Zong Duo paused in surprise. Though his expression remained cold, his heart felt inexplicably content.

Ning Fu made up her mind and quietly said to Princess Jingwen, “Your Highness, shall we play with the fireworks?”

Jingwen looked uneasy. “Years ago, I played with my royal brother and nearly set Jingyang Palace ablaze. I’ve been afraid to ever since, and Father no longer allows it.”

“Then why not have someone guide us?” Ning Fu suggested.

Jingwen pondered the idea, then turned toward Zong Duo. Of all the people who had played with her since childhood, her second cousin was the most reliable—everyone else had always warned her away from danger, but he had never hesitated to let her join in.

When Jingwen approached Zong Duo with the suggestion, he glanced toward Ning Fu, who waited expectantly nearby. And just like that, he couldn’t bring himself to say no.

Fourth Miss Ning probably wanted to join in too.

“You two wait for me at Jingyang Palace,” said Zong Duo. That was Consort Zong’s personal residence.

Princess Jingwen then took Ning Fu and left ahead.

Moments later, Zong Duo went to seek approval from Consort Zong.

“Jingwen hasn’t relaxed in ages—it’s a good idea. Take them out to play,” she agreed. She didn’t want to dampen her daughter’s spirits during the New Year festivities. If Meng Ze were the one indulging Jingwen’s mischief, the Empress might stir up trouble. But since it was Zong Duo, the Empress hadn’t yet fully turned against Prince Xuan’s house.

With the go-ahead, Zong Duo made his way to Jingyang Palace. There, Ning Fu and Jingwen had been waiting for a while. As soon as he arrived, Jingwen instructed the maid to retrieve the newly arrived fireworks for the year. Zong Duo handed each girl one to light.

Ning Fu hadn’t played with fireworks in years, and for a moment, it all felt novel and exciting.

“Fourth Miss hasn’t played before?” Zong Duo asked, watching her face glow in the firelight—flawless.

“I haven’t in many years,” Ning Fu replied.

There was a pitiable sweetness to her words, tugging at his heartstrings. He gave her another sparkler.

“You two go ahead. I’ll head inside to warm up by the fire,” Jingwen said, having had enough after just one round—too cold for her liking.

Ning Fu asked in a seemingly casual tone, “I heard Second Young Master will be heading north after the New Year?”

Zong Duo responded with a quiet “Mm.” “I’ll be in charge of delivering military pay and provisions. We’re leaving after the fifth—two months there and back.”

Lowering her gaze, Ning Fu said, “A few days ago, I had a dream… that Second Young Master was ambushed by Hu people while escorting supplies. Severely injured. Please, take extra precautions.”

Though Zong Duo wasn’t skilled in matters between men and women, he wasn’t dense—he understood that Fourth Miss Ning was genuinely concerned for him. She must’ve suggested the fireworks outing just to speak with him about this. In that moment, he found her kind and gentle. Just a dream, yet she still went to such lengths to warn him.

Normally, Zong Duo would scoff at such warnings. Was he supposed to fear Hu raiders? Injuries were inevitable—every man defending the nation bore his own scars. But in front of Ning Fu, his heart softened. He gave her a sincere promise: “Thank you for your warning, Fourth Miss. I’ll be cautious and return without fail.”

After a pause, Ning Fu added, “When taking precautions… please don’t mention this to the Heir. He doesn’t think well of me—I fear he’ll assume I have ulterior motives.”

Zong Duo couldn’t help but frown. His third brother’s attitude toward Ning Fu had always been unkind—even he felt it was too harsh. “Anything I discuss with Fourth Miss will stay between us.”

Ning Fu didn’t linger long at Jingyang Palace. It was getting late—time for her to return home. A palace maid led her to the Tingzan Palace, but the carriage waiting there wasn’t her own.

“The Heir is waiting for you,” the maid said softly, her head lowered.

Ning Fu frowned, unsure why Zong Si would seek her out. They were still in the palace—if anyone discovered they were meeting in private, it wouldn’t be a trivial matter.

After careful thought, she lifted the curtain and stepped inside the carriage. It was her first time riding in Zong Si’s carriage in this lifetime. The moment she entered, she caught a faint scent of ink, laced with subtle notes of orchid.

Zong Si sat calmly inside, eyes closed in repose. He opened them only when he heard her enter. She couldn’t help but marvel inwardly—his face truly never grew tiring to look at, flawless and handsome in every regard. And not just his face—his very posture was alluring. But in this life, she knew she wasn’t destined to enjoy such things.

“The Heir’s boldness is a bit much,” Ning Fu said.

Zong Si replied, “If you don’t want Meng Ze to take an interest in you, best keep your distance from him. You’ll gain nothing from that connection.”

Such casual bluntness—referring to Meng Ze directly—suggested that, behind the scenes, it was Meng Ze who needed favors from him.

“The Sixth Prince likely doesn’t know how the Heir views him behind his back,” Ning Fu said with a faint smile, subtly calling out his habit of criticizing others privately.

Zong Si glanced at her, amusement in his eyes. He replied slowly, “Does Fourth Miss hope to become the Sixth Princess Consort?”

Lowering her gaze, Ning Fu gave a measured smile and said, “I’m merely negotiating with the Heir. From the looks of things, the Heir seems overly concerned with matters that are none of his business.”