Changsheng was Mei Heting’s courtesy name.

Since this ill-fated relationship was tied by her own hands, it would be severed by her hands as well.

As Xuan Mingzhu spoke these words, she felt an unprecedented sense of relief.

However, everyone present was stunned.

Especially Mei Heting, whose face turned as white as a sheet of raw rice paper, revealing a fragility that didn’t match his usual calm demeanor.

The Grand Princess didn’t spare him another glance as she turned and walked into the palace.

“Why?”

Mei Heting couldn’t understand.

He stepped forward and grabbed her wrist.

After seven years of marriage, how could he not tell when Xuan Mingzhu was joking and when she was serious?

Precisely because he knew, he was all the more confused, his mind in turmoil.

“I’ve already apologized…”

Staring intently at her unrelenting back, he couldn’t comprehend it.

The unease that had been gnawing at him for days now burst through like a flood.

His usually steady voice wavered.

“If I’ve done anything wrong, please tell me. Don’t make a scene like this and embarrass us in front of others.”

The Princess Consort of Prince Shen and Princess Chengyu, along with others, were watching behind him.

Mei Heting could no longer care about them.

He knew Xuan Mingzhu’s temperament—if she dared to say such things in public, it meant she had already made up her mind.

But this decision had been made without him.

Nothing had even happened.

Just a few days ago, he had dined with her and Bao Ya, and everything had been fine.

Why was she saying this now?

Xuan Mingzhu frowned as Hong’er stepped forward, her face darkening. “Let go, my lord! You’re hurting Her Highness.”

Only then did Mei Heting realize his own loss of composure.

He let go of her wrist as if waking from a dream.

On her snow-white wrist, a faint bruise had already appeared.

Her skin had always been delicate, easily bruised with the slightest force.

Mei Heting stared blankly at the glaring mark. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, I…”

“Why must the Grand Princess speak such hurtful words, forcing him like this?”

Xing Yun couldn’t bear to watch anymore.

Emboldened by her godmother’s presence, she spoke up.

Her Senior Brother Mei had always been aloof and proud.

When they were classmates, he had stood out like a crane among men, pure and lofty, above the mundane world.

How could he now bow and show weakness to a woman?

To break such a proud spirit and force him to submit beneath a woman—it was nothing but the Grand Princess abusing her power!

The Princess Consort Shen smiled faintly, closing her eyes as she watched in silence.

This sort of drama was exactly what Princess Chengyu enjoyed.

She absently touched her face and thought, “Strange, why does it suddenly feel like the beating I took was worth it?”

Xing Yun, growing more distressed, tearfully pleaded, “If Her Highness is dissatisfied because of me, then punish me. Please don’t take it out on Senior Brother Mei. If you don’t care for him, someone else will…”

“Shut up!” Mei Heting turned his head and barked.

In that instant, his eyes were filled with a chilling coldness, like a beast lurking in the depths of an abyss suddenly raising its head. It was a bone-deep menace.

Xing Yun trembled, stepping back with a pale face, doubting what she had just seen.

Xuan Mingzhu, too tired of the sentimental act, indifferently walked through the palace gates.

As Cheng’er followed her inside, she threw back a parting shot on behalf of her mistress: “Some people should hide their intentions better. Don’t act like sneaky rats, revealing themselves and inviting ridicule. Even if you were raised to be a county lady or a princess, what our Grand Princess doesn’t want, you think you could ever have?”

Her words hit several people square in the face, even causing the Princess Consort Shen’s expression to darken.

But Cheng’er’s words carried the weight of the Grand Princess’s authority, and no one dared to refute them.

Mei Heting caught on to something in her words, suddenly realizing.

Could it be… she had misunderstood something?

He hurried after her, wanting to explain, but Cheng’er blocked his path. “Stop where you are, my lord! This door is not one that just anyone can step through.”

The vermilion doors slammed shut in his face.

Mei Heting had been met with a cold shoulder, standing there in a daze for a while.

He finally realized that after Xuan Mingzhu finished her decisive words, she had not looked back or said anything else.

The intent was clear, as if a brilliant sun hung high in the sky, unmistakable.

Usually composed and dignified, the young master Mei stood there frozen, raising his hand as if to knock on the door, but then hesitating and letting it drop, unsure of where to go next.

“Your Highness, the prince consort stood outside the palace for a while before leaving. Everyone else has already dispersed,” reported Xue Tang, who had been waiting at the palace gate.

Xuan Mingzhu was just savoring a peeled lychee, taking a bite that released a burst of sweet, tender juice.

“Hmm, I know him,” she said, peeling another lychee, seemingly unconcerned. “You just need to watch the palace gate after the third hour.”

Xue Tang left to carry out her orders, while Hong Er and Cheng Er stayed by her side, occasionally stealing glances at their mistress’s expression.

“What are you staring at?” Xuan Mingzhu arched her brows into beautiful crescents. “Since ancient times, it has only been said that a boil leaves the body, making one feel lighter. Who has ever seen a patient frown after recovering?”

The hardest part had already passed for her.

Behind Qingyuan Hall, there was a garden with pools where pear and apricot trees were planted.

Every late spring, petals would drift down onto the clear waters, resembling snow-white shadows, creating a serene landscape.

Originally, the garden was filled with the peach trees favored by the late Empress Dowager Roujia.

After the peach grove was cut down, Qingyuan Hall was left empty.

In her sadness, Xuan Mingzhu decided not to replant the peach trees but moved over the pear and apricot trees from the western garden.

After sunset, the palace maids brought golden-hued lanterns into the garden as per the princess’s instructions, hanging them from the graceful branches.

Soft yellow candlelight flickered in various heights, illuminating the shy flowers and creating a hazy mist over the spring waters.

Xuan Mingzhu knelt beneath a pear tree, digging in the soil for wine, refusing anyone’s help.

She had never seen her elegant mother, hands dirty with soil, laughing joyfully like a child.

That day, her mother had said that once her little Zhao Le chose a prince consort, she would bring the groom here to unearth these two jars of daughter’s red for a cup of wine.

After they were married, Mei Heting had accompanied her to this place once, and she had wanted him to help her unearth the wine so they could drink together.

But he had found it undignified to dig in the dirt, and so the wine remained untouched.

At that time, she was too busy coaxing the cold-faced young lord to smile, never considering how heartbroken her mother would be, unable to drink her daughter’s wedding wine from the underworld.

If this wine were never to see the light of day again, she might never have the chance to drink it.

By the time Granny Cui arrived, the moon was high in the sky.

Xuan Mingzhu had already washed her slender fingers and lay sideways on a large stone by the pool, pouring one jar out for her ancestors and drinking the other alone amidst the floral fragrance and bright moonlight.

Her shadow formed a trio.

“Your Highness, the young miss is very well-behaved at home,” Granny Cui replied softly, seemingly wary of startling the water’s edge, where her reflection looked as ethereal as a lotus goddess. “As for the matter of the divorce, news has already reached the former palace; it was Sixth Princess Chengyu who spread it.”

Xuan Mingzhu merely responded with an “Mm,” lightly pulling at the corners of her mouth. “It’s fine, I did it on purpose.”

The bait had been cast, and it was time to stir the waters.

She intended to use Chengyu’s words to see clearly the thoughts of those in the cabinet regarding her, her military power, and Mei Heting.

The fragrant words spilled from her lips like the scent of wine.

Xuan Mingzhu laughed softly, the white pears and apricot blossoms filling her sleeves as the moonlight sprinkled her figure, resembling a delicate orchid in bloom.

A tiny red mole between her brows made her even more captivating.

Feeling a bit tipsy, she propped her chin in her hand and recounted past events to Granny Cui, “Back then, I pleaded with Father not to cut down Mother’s peach trees. Though fate is often untrustworthy, Father firmly believed the astronomical observations about ‘evil trees harming the master’ and insisted on issuing the order to fell the trees… Granny, do you know? At that time, what I feared most wasn’t my mother’s death; I was terrified she would learn that her beloved peach blossoms had vanished before she passed.”

That day, she had napped in her mother’s side chamber, and they thought she was asleep.

She heard her mother softly ask her father whether he had wanted to marry her or her sister.

Her father replied—

“I pity your delicate beauty, which has met an early end. Rather than let someone else sit on the empress’s throne, it would be better for a daughter of the He family to take charge. You wear it, and I do not wish to hide this from you.”

He didn’t want to feel guilty, so he revealed the cruel truth to his dying first wife.

From that moment on, separated by a screen, Xuan Mingzhu lay with her head on the pillow, pretending to sleep, yet unable to stop the tears flowing for her doting father, the emperor.

Having grown up in the palace, she had stumbled upon many secret matters, but this was far from the only one.

It was precisely because she was accustomed to the fickleness and heartlessness of royal families that she had fallen head over heels for Mei Heting at first sight.

That clean-cut young man was like a snow lotus blooming atop Tianshan Mountain—pure and unadorned.

She believed such a person would never waver in love, not wanting to follow in her mother’s footsteps.

Indeed, for seven years, he maintained his integrity, without any other women by his side.

Yet it turned out he had never truly loved her.

The relationship between her father and mother, and the prince consort and herself, shared the same tragic fate.

“Your Highness, it’s late, and the stones by the water are cold. Shall we return?” Granny Cui said anxiously, fearing that the princess might fall into the water in her drunken stupor, yet she hesitated to press too hard.

Earlier, Hong’er had urged her to come and advise the princess, wearing a worried expression.

The words spoken by the princess in the daytime seemed nonchalant, but seven years of feelings and efforts couldn’t simply be brushed aside with a single breath.

The Grand princess mentioned the late empress dowager, indicating a deep wound in her heart.

“Your Highness, your body can’t withstand great sadness. For the sake of the young miss, please take care of yourself.”

“Granny, I am not sad.” Xuan Mingzhu smiled upon hearing about Baoya, her hazy eyes sharpening a bit.

Of course, she should live well for Baoya, to earn another day and spend more time with her.

She raised her hand to rub her brow, petals from her sleeves scattering like rain on the water, drifting aimlessly.

As she tried to stand, the darkness across the pond unexpectedly caught her eye.

That boundless silence of night evoked images of lying alone in a coffin, buried deep beneath the earth.

Suddenly, she felt cold.

Xuan Mingzhu lifted a jar of wine from the bottom and took a swig.

The fiery liquor coursed down her throat, warming her a little.

“Oh, right, the anti-decay pills.” She recalled something she had long overlooked, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand and mumbling like a child, “Granny, could you prepare some anti-decay pills? I fear I might look too terrible to see my mother; it would sadden her.”

Tears streamed down Granny Cui’s face like beads from a broken string, nodding vigorously. “Whatever the princess says goes. Please come down quickly; the stones are slippery!”

In the dimness on the opposite shore, a figure stood, forlorn.

Seeing that unsteady silhouette across the water, his heart tightened instantly.

“Step aside quickly; can you bear the responsibility if something happens to the princess?”

Xue Tang remained unmoved, her voice as stern as stone. “There are guards in the garden to protect the princess. Without Prince Mei, she has happily reached twenty. Please leave.”

Mei Heting’s fists clenched at his sides.

During the day, Xuan Mingzhu had closed the door on him.

Frustrated and aimless, he could only return to the court to finish official duties before rushing back.

Yet he was blocked here, unable to get closer to Qiong Ying Garden no matter how much he pleaded.

He couldn’t hear what was being said across the pond, but he saw Xuan Mingzhu drinking one cup after another by the water.

Alone and desolate, the quietness of the water and moon brought a profound sorrow.

He had never seen her like this.

In his heart, she had always been like a warm, sunlit flower, a charming presence even in winter.

As long as she looked at him, that bright gaze would never dim.

Yet at this moment, across the water, that fragile white figure seemed like it could dissolve into the water at any moment, vanishing forever.

He didn’t know if her words during the day had stemmed from jealousy or from the grievances she had suffered that day in the pleasure house.

But ultimately, everything had a root cause, and as her husband, he couldn’t leave her to fend for herself.

“Miss Xue Tang, I cannot rest easy about her,” Mei Heting maintained his composure, his tone steady without a hint of anger, though no one could see the whiteness of his fingertips hidden beneath his sleeves. “I implore you, let me pass.”

Xue Tang remained expressionless, a rock-like barrier in front of him.

As expected, during the hours of the court, Lord Mei had excellent composure, even after being dismissed in front of everyone, he could still calmly return to his duties.

Once the official business was completed, would he return with some false pretense to win back the princess’s heart?

It seemed he had not taken her feelings seriously at all.

How laughable it was; he didn’t even understand the true knot in her heart.

He didn’t know that she was about to…

He didn’t deserve her kindness.