“Does this palace have some illness?”

In the third year of the Yongchun era of the Great Jin, during the spring, the Grand Princess’s residence was holding a grand banquet.

In the Peony Garden, on the Five Bats’ Ruyi stage, adjacent to the waterside pavilion, a lively birthday play was being performed.

In the inner chambers of the Grand Princess of Zhaole’s rear palace, the sound of a needle falling could be heard.

The screen made of crimson silk embroidered with red and gold threads concealed the figures within, only revealing a slender, fair wrist.

The clear and beautiful voice asked twice, and the Imperial Physician outside the screen had a face full of anxiety, deep in thought and silent.

Xuan Mingzhu frowned, and a palace maid next to her quickly lifted the curtain, revealing a graceful face.

She was dressed in a crimson gown embroidered with golden clouds, adorned with double-stitched cranes in gold thread on the collar and cuffs.

Leaning casually against a cushioned chair, she exuded an air of elegance and luxury.

The Imperial Physician Yang only glanced at her before quickly lowering his head, nervously remaining silent.

“Is there something you cannot say?”

Xuan Mingzhu waited for a long time, then put down the handkerchief she was holding and laughed in anger: “Why, does this palace have an incurable disease, or is this birthday turning into a day of mourning?”

The eighth day of the fourth month was Buddha’s birthday and also the 25th birthday of the Grand Princess of Zhaole(Xuan Mingzhu).

Since the beginning of the previous Emperor’s reign, the reverence for Buddha had grown stronger.

Thus, on this day, officials in Luoyang City stopped their work and rested, just as the Princess’s residence hosted a grand banquet with many guests coming to celebrate.

During the banquet, Xuan Mingzhu felt dizzy and nauseous.

Concerned about being impolite in front of others, she had summoned the Imperial Physician to take her pulse.

“Ah, little princess, today is your grand day!” Nurse Cui said anxiously upon hearing this.

On a birthday festival, what is there to avoid discussing matters of life and death?

The Princess was holding in her anger, knowing that it was because the Duke of Mei had not prepared a birthday gift for her and was unwilling to remind him, causing a quarrel.

The Imperial Physician Yang, who had been criticized, felt deeply anxious—everyone knew that the Grand Princess of Zhaole was the most favored daughter of Emperor Ming of the Jin Dynasty and that the late Emperor had greatly cherished this imperial sister.

Her extravagant behavior before marriage was well-known in Luoyang.

After marriage, she became more virtuous, surrounded by children, and was now in the prime of her life.

Yang’s heart was filled with deep regret as he carefully responded:

“Replying to Her Highness the Grand Princess, Your Highness’s pulse resembles that of the late Empress Dowager Roujia…”

Xuan Mingzhu suddenly looked up, and Nurse Cui accidentally broke the blue and white porcelain cup in her hand.

---

“Why hasn’t the eldest princess come out yet? The lively scene today, without her as the main character, is incomplete.”

At the banquet on the stage near the Peony Garden, the speaker was a woman dressed in a water-blue floral dress with ten patterns, who was the sixth princess of Jin Ming, Xuan Mingya, also known as the Princess of Chengyu.

Next to her was Princess Baozheng of the Jin Royal Family, who had just reached her coming-of-age ceremony and was named Xuan Pei.

She covered her mouth with a silk fan and said:

“I just saw that the Grand Princess’s face was somewhat pale. I think she drank too much and has gone to change clothes.”

“You noticed that too?”

Princess Chengyu, who had just outlived her third husband and was enjoying widowhood, smiled as she took a piece of jade-scented cake from a graceful young man behind her.

“It’s not drunkenness but perhaps exhaustion. Everyone knows that while the birthday banquet is nominally arranged by Duke Mei, in reality, Xuan Mingzhu has been personally busy with all the preparations. Tsk tsk, just to make others feel that Duke Mei cares for her.”

Princess Baozheng knew that the two aunts had never gotten along since childhood.

She pretended not to hear the sarcasm in the conversation and responded demurely, “I see.”

“Isn’t that right?” Princess Chengyu said with a slight smile, watching the play while speaking:

“Even though Father Emperor dotes on her, she is still tied to a man who doesn’t love her, appearing united outwardly but estranged within. She also has to raise two sons who are not of the main line. How bitter must that be, hmm?”

Xuan Pei smiled but remained silent, feeling slightly pleased as she listened to the elder’s private matters.

She had no personal grievance with her noble aunt, but the Grand Princess had lived too smoothly in her first twenty years.

When others look up to you for too long, it’s inevitable to feel a bit resentful and envious.

People say that Emperor Ming of Jin favored the Grand Princess more than the Crown Prince, granting her a separate palace, bestowing her with a dragon robe, assigning imperial guards, and rewarding her with private treasury.

Any one of these would be enough to provoke envy.

—Of course, that was Xuan Mingzhu before marriage.

Princess Chengyu glanced at the men’s side and saw the solitary and aloof figure like a cold pine.

She smiled with satisfaction.

Mei Heting, once the personal student of the imperial teacher and a top scholar chosen by Emperor Ming, had a cool and forbidding demeanor that was truly captivating.

Unfortunately, despite his talent for governance, his path to the highest offices was cut off by being chosen by the Grand Princess at the Qionglin Banquet.

Prideful as he was, how could he not resent Xuan Mingzhu?

Anyway, in the many years they had been married, she rarely saw Duke Mei smile when appearing in public with the Princess.

Princess Chengyu felt a sense of superiority and, as she imagined her elder sister’s embarrassment behind closed doors, reached for a lychee on the crystal plate.

Suddenly, she let out a cry.

A pot of freshly ground ink fell from above, spilling entirely on her newly made floral dress.

“Ah!” Princess Baozheng wiped her hand and also suffered from the collateral damage.

The small, dark figure that had caused the incident seemed familiar with the surroundings and fled quickly.

As Princess Chengyu gritted her teeth in anger, the culprit had already disappeared without a trace.

Surrounding eyes cast astonished glances.

Princess Chengyu’s face was darker than the ink, and after a moment she spat out, “Uncultured wretch!”

---

“…Princess Chengyu spoke some harsh words, which the young lady happened to overhear. Unable to bear it, she threw ink on Princess Chengyu.”

As soon as the Imperial Physician Yang left, Xuan Mingzhu, her long lashes veiling her thoughts, heard about the commotion.

In the Grand Princess’s residence, there were always those who kept an ear out for news.

However, as Yingxiao spoke, she noticed that the atmosphere in the hall was unusual.

Nurse Cui was giving meaningful glances to Yingxiao, while Hong’er and Cheng’er had red-rimmed eyes, as if they had been crying.

What was going on? Yingxiao wondered.

The Grand Princess had always been broad-minded and had heard many sour comments in the past, always dismissing them with a smile. Chengyu’s sharp tongue was nothing new; why was it different today?

“Don’t stop,” Xuan Mingzhu said, lifting her slightly pale face, “Tell me everything Sixth Miss said, word for word.”

Yingxiao noticed that the Princess’s gaze was different from usual.

In the past, no matter how grand the banquet or trivial the palace affairs, the mention of Duke Mei would instantly soften the Princess’s gaze, like a pool of spring water.

Now, her beautiful eyes held only a cold frost.

Yingxiao softly reported, “Princess Chengyu said that Your Highness has chosen a man who does not love you…”

Those words were difficult for her to say but she did not dare to hide anything, and reported everything honestly.

Xuan Mingzhu listened intently.

Though she seemed indifferent, she couldn’t help but recall the years she had spent married to Mei Heting.

She had been deeply smitten by him at first sight, pleading with her father to arrange the marriage.

Initially, she worried about the prideful nature of the young Master Mei, who was a year younger and from a prestigious family in Jiangzuo, and did not favor the princess.

So after their marriage, she let go of many of the princess’s rituals and ceremonies, willingly staying in the inner chambers, washing her hands to cook for him.

She loved lively gatherings, while he preferred quietude.

Fearing that he might think she was unlearned, Xuan Mingzhu decided to put away her riding whip and wine utensils, altering her temperament to learn the elegance expected of a cultured family.

He rarely smiled, yet Xuan Mingzhu comforted herself: my talented husband naturally doesn’t love to laugh.

To others, however, this became a joke about how the grand princess was trying too hard.

Xuan Mingzhu lowered her long, thick eyelashes and asked, “What about Bao Ya?”

Ying Xiao carefully replied, “The young lady’s matter has been discovered by the prince, and he ordered the eldest son to bring her back to apologize to the guests, then… she was sent to the ancestral hall to copy scriptures.”

Sent to the ancestral hall to copy scriptures again? Granny(Nurse) Cui frowned; the young lady was only five years old.

She internally criticized the prince for being too harsh, suddenly remembering that the princess could not rush or be angry now.

Her nose grew sour, and she hurried to comfort her:

“Your Highness, don’t worry. It’s likely that the prince acted out of anger. The eldest son will take care of her.”

Before she could finish, the old woman couldn’t help but choke up.

She recalled over a decade ago when Empress Dowager Roujia suddenly fell ill.

The imperial doctor said it was a rare and difficult illness called “Blood Dry Syndrome.”

At that time, countless remedies were gathered and tried both in and outside the palace, but none worked.

Less than half a year later, the Empress Dowager passed away.

Empress Dowager Roujia was the birth mother of the grand princess.

That year, the princess was only eleven, watching helplessly as her mother faded away.

Now the doctor said that the grand princess’s pulse was the same as the Empress Dowager’s back then.

Granny(Nurse) Cui looked sorrowfully at the princess she had raised, her heart pierced like a shard of ice—was heaven trying to take her beloved away?

Why this illness, of all things? It was said to be incurable!

Xuan Mingzhu’s eyes, which usually sparkled with emotion, were now devoid of any ripples.

She pushed open the cloud-patterned window, gazing at the vibrant late spring peach blossoms in the garden, her voice somewhat ethereal:

“Granny, do you see? Am I not accurate? If this is not a golden mouth and a jade word, then I have wasted my status as a noble.”

Granny(Nurse) Cui’s eyes reddened, and just then, the bead curtain at the door was lifted, and a graceful figure stepped inside.

Granny Cui’s comfort was halted.

The man was tall and well-proportioned, wearing a dark blue silk robe with bamboo patterns, his waist cinched perfectly, standing there radiating an air of refined authority.

When Ying Xiao regained her composure and greeted him, Mei Heting gently nodded, observing the etiquette and stopping just outside the gauze curtain.

He looked down at Xuan Mingzhu’s expression. “The guests outside are still waiting. Is something wrong, Your Highness?”

Granny Cui, who always respected the prince, now felt a surge of unspoken anger—if the prince knew the princess was suffering from that deadly illness, would he still treat her so indifferently?

Just as she was about to speak, Xuan Mingzhu shook her head to stop the old woman.

She reclined lazily in the chair, looking up at his handsome face, her phoenix eyes shimmering.

Suddenly, she smiled.

True to form, even on such a festive day, he maintained an unflappable demeanor.

In Xuan Mingzhu’s chamber, there was a specially sought-after small screen depicting pines, plums, and cranes.

This person was just like the crane above—no matter how vibrant the world was, he would never bow his head or bend his back.

And yet, she loved him dearly over the years.

Xuan Mingzhu softly asked, “What happened to Bao Ya?”

Mei Heting paused and said, “It’s just a bit of mischief, a small matter.”

“Hmm, it’s also a small matter when a daughter is locked in the ancestral hall on her own birthday,” Xuan Mingzhu retorted with a tone of mockery.

Seeing her sarcastic expression, Mei Heting’s thin lips pressed into a cold line.

“From a young age, one should cultivate one’s nature, focusing on actions rather than intentions. Bao Ya’s throwing ink on someone—do you think it should go unpunished?”

As a vice minister in the Supreme Court, he always had countless principles to discuss.

In the past, Xuan Mingzhu liked his serious demeanor and enjoyed his cool, soothing voice.

It was this natural elegance that set him apart from others and earned him the title of “The Best Young Master of Jiangzuo.”

Now, after silently observing him for a while, a feeling of weariness arose from deep within.

She didn’t want to argue anymore and wearily said, “Let’s end the banquet.”

Mei Heting was puzzled and didn’t understand why she was upset.

Since their marriage, Xuan Mingzhu had been gentle and accommodating, never acting against him or making things difficult for him, whether managing the household or raising their children.

Thus, Mei Heting was momentarily at a loss. “Your Highness, today’s guests are all important dignitaries here to celebrate your birthday. The banquet has not yet reached its midpoint, and as the host, it is both polite and proper to not be impolite.”

Another round of reasoning thwarted Xuan Mingzhu’s attempt to voice, “I’m not feeling well.”

His deep, dark eyes were distant, as if anything she said at this moment was merely an attempt to provoke his sympathy.

She didn’t want to be so pitiful.

“Then please, Duke, attend to the guests properly on my behalf.”

Xuan Mingzhu smiled, the ruby on her brow moving slightly, reflecting a piercing light. “Oh, and don’t forget to toast Princess Chengyu on my behalf. She is widowed and lonely, always thinking of you as a good brother-in-law.”

“What?” To Mei Heting, these words were like filth.

He was momentarily stunned and, after recovering, his face turned an incredulous red.

“Preposterous! Your Highness, have you had enough of this nonsense?” The man stormed off.

The room of servants exchanged glances, and Granny Cui’s heart nearly broke. “Princess, why didn’t you tell him… Why must it be like this?”

The sound of the pearl curtain crashing was like shattered jade.

Xuan Mingzhu stared blankly at the direction he had left, feeling as if a sharp knife had been thrust into her chest, but she could only open her mouth, unable to speak.

Yes, why must it be this way.

After seven years of marriage, she had doubted whether he ever liked her or if she had coerced him with her power.

But a man like Mei Heting, so principled, why would he write custom-made Qixi poems for her every year if he truly didn’t like her?

It was those lines like “Crane holding the pearl’s shadow” and “Forever bound as phoenix and dragon.”

He had responded to her, so she believed that this marriage wasn’t something she forced.

It wasn’t until the Imperial Physician diagnosed her with an incurable disease that the Grand Princess of Zhaole suddenly realized.

These seven years had been her one-sided longing.