Unable to wait for the carriage, Mei Heting rushed from the princess’s residence to Yichun Music Hall.

His usually neat attire was slightly disheveled, and the folds of his robe, caught in the cold glow of the moon, reflected his haste.

In front of the music hall, someone had already stationed themselves beneath the archway, waiting specifically to prevent him from entering.

As the lanterns illuminated the person’s face, Mei Heting’s dark eyes deepened, casting heavy shadows across the bridge of his nose.

He spoke in a low, hoarse voice:

“I’ve come to take the princess home.”

The person blocking the entrance, wearing a bamboo hat, shook her head. “Please forgive me, sir.”

Young Master Yan had issued strict orders forbidding him from entering, and Ms.Yang agreed, saying he was not the right man for the princess.

If they didn’t sever ties cleanly, it would only cause more harm.

Mei Heting stood in silence for a moment, not showing any anger.

He lowered his lashes and pulled a white handkerchief from his sleeve, absentmindedly wiping his fingers.

“Your business is open to all. It’s unreasonable to refuse entry. Even if the guest is here to drink and make merry, there’s no reason to stop him.”

This scene reminded the woman in the bamboo hat of the day Mei Heting examined a corpse.

He had been just as composed and authoritative, acting with such nonchalance that no one could fathom his thoughts.

In the deep darkness of the night, a chill crept up the back of the woman’s neck.

“Well, well.”

A carefree whistle broke the tension.

Yan Huai descended the stairs with light, unsteady steps, the scent of alcohol lingering around him, and he carried an unopened wine jar in his hand.

He lazily leaned against the brightly painted pillar at the entrance, waving the woman in the bamboo hat away before raising his eyes to glance at Mei Heting with a smirk.

Mei Heting calmly approached. “The hall is restricted. I’ve come to take the princess home.”

Yan Huai casually tossed the wine jar toward him.

The five-pound jar landed in Mei Heting’s arms, leaving him uncertain of its meaning.

“I know you ‘noble scholars’ disdain us pampered sons of the capital,” Yan Huai said lazily. “But I don’t see any issue with it. We all live our own lives, and nobody gets in the way of anyone else. —But just now, during the drinking game, Big Sister recited something, and it startled me.”

“‘One may appear cold and frosty before blooming. Drunk, don’t hate the flowers for their indifference, for who knows their silent warmth?’”*

Yan Huai tilted his chin slightly, his voice utterly calm but carrying a hint of danger. “You want to see her, don’t you? Then drink.”

Mei Heting remained silent for a long time after hearing the verse.

Then, raising his hand, he broke the seal on the jar and tilted his head back, drinking the wine in the middle of the street.

The rare, strong wine of Luoyang burned like a heated blade, scraping his throat with each swallow, searing his stomach.

It wasn’t about proving anything meaningless.

He simply wanted to show that no matter what happened between him and Xuan Mingzhu, it was their private matter—something no one else had the right to interfere with.

So, whatever obstacle Yan Huai threw at him, he accepted it.

Before he could drink halfway, his front robes were soaked.

The wine ran down his throat and neck, disappearing into his clothes, staining his fine garments.

Yan Huai watched with great interest.

Suddenly, Mei Heting choked, bending over as he coughed violently.

Though there were many scholars who could handle alcohol, he was not one of them.

Aside from toasts during his wedding feast—most of which Xuan Mingzhu had kindly intercepted—he had hardly ever drunk in his life.

The amount he had consumed in his lifetime likely didn’t add up to more than what was in this single jar.

And especially not strong liquor like this.

A mocking laugh sounded nearby.

Mei Heting’s expression darkened as he wiped his chin with his sleeve, continuing to raise the jar and drink.

Passersby, out seeking late-night entertainment, looked on with curiosity, whispering amongst themselves.

Some speculated it was a conflict between brothers, while others believed it to be a rivalry over a woman.

Either way, they found it more interesting than listening to a performance.

After five pounds of alcohol entered his stomach, Mei Heting’s head spun, and his throat had long since gone numb.

His body swayed slightly, and he squeezed his brows shut, his voice hoarse and raw: “Move aside.”

Yan Huai gazed at him with pity.

“Big Sister changed so much for you, but you never even learned to drink for her.”

That single sentence rooted Mei Heting to the spot.

The burning sea of alcohol in his stomach surged, overwhelming his mind with memories of many things.

He recalled how, when he rarely drank at home, she would refrain from drinking in front of him as well.

So he had forgotten that, years ago, when he first came to Luoyang for his civil service exams, a fast rider had galloped past him, carrying with them the scent of musk.

A white-robed scholar, frowning, tried to dodge the dust, while the tavern keeper called out loudly: “Your Highness, would you grace us by drinking a jug of rustic wine?”

At the time, he had wondered which prince could be so ostentatious that even the common folk in the alleys knew he drank by the jug.

Mei Heting struggled to maintain his last bit of clarity, lifting his gaze toward the second floor of the music hall.

The light from the diamond-pane window was faint, revealing shadows that danced in joyful abandon.

He wondered if Xuan Mingzhu knew he was here; perhaps she did, but didn’t care.

That window, glowing with light, felt so far away from him.

---

Xuan Mingzhu awoke in the Cuiwei Palace the next morning, the sun already high in the sky.

The bright light streaming through the gauzy curtains hurt her eyes, and her temples throbbed painfully.

Her throat was dry and sore.

As she massaged her temples, she tried to recall how she had returned the night before, but all she could do was sigh.

The matron was sure to be upset again.

“Hong’er,” she croaked, surprising herself with the sound of her own voice.

As she called, the sound of jingling jewelry came from below the stairs, and palace maids dressed in flowing garments entered, each holding glass bowls and golden plates, standing neatly in two lines.

They presented her with fragrant tea, towels, and various adornments, arranging them gracefully before the princess.

Hong’er approached to lift the curtain, and beams of soft light fell upon Xuan Mingzhu’s thick, curling lashes, making them shimmer like gold.

She requested a cup of honey tea to soothe her throat and, after taking a sip, glanced around the room and whispered, “Where’s Granny Cui?”

Hong’er, seeing the princess’s guilty expression reminiscent of a child caught in wrongdoing, held back a laugh and said, “Your Highness, you returned to the palace just last night, heavily intoxicated. Granny Cui stayed by your side until the third watch before sneaking off to catch some sleep.”

Xuan Mingzhu rubbed her forehead in frustration; she had just promised Granny Cui that she wouldn’t get drunk again, and then she forgot everything when she saw Xiao Huai return.

At this moment, her body felt terrible—she could no longer indulge in heavy drinking.

After a hasty wash, she dismissed the maids and asked how she had returned the night before.

“Your Highness,” Song Tai, who had been waiting outside the hall, answered, “Young Master Yan brought you back last night. He stayed until you reached the palace gates, giving you many instructions before leaving.”

She added, “And then there was Mei Langjun. When I arrived to take over from Yan, I saw him standing at the archway, reeking of alcohol, with a strange odor, as if he had just vomited. When he saw Young Master Yan helping you out of the music hall, his eyes looked as if he wanted to devour him, yet he didn’t say a word and quietly followed your carriage back to the palace.”

“He didn’t hand over the token and was stopped by the guards at the palace gates. When I turned to look back as I passed through the alley, I saw him standing there, unmoving in the moonlight.”

Song Tai reported everything in detail.

Xuan Mingzhu not only visualized the scene but also seemed to recall that strange smell.

Furrowing her brows, she considered that Mei Heting had indeed encountered Zi Bai, and his hostile gaze was noticeable, but the vomiting part was likely exaggerated.

Given his fastidious nature, if he truly had vomited, he wouldn’t have been able to bear staying in dirty clothes for even a moment—he would have rushed to change.

But how had he ended up drinking?

She promptly pushed the matter aside, clutching her damp hair as she walked to the window, hoping the fresh breeze would clear her foggy mind.

The earth in the garden was moist, and the crabapples weren’t as full as they had been the day before.

Hong’er mentioned that a sudden rain had fallen in the early morning.

“The pears and apricots in Qiongying Garden must be all scattered and muddy now,” she murmured, tapping her delicate pink nails against the window frame.

Flourishing peach blossoms and bright apricots were often considered frivolous by scholars, who failed to realize that these spring flowers were the most delicate and could hardly withstand a few storms.

They blossomed and fell, twisting and swirling in the wind, completely beyond anyone’s control.

Hong’er, knowing the princess was missing Lady Roujia, tactfully changed the subject: “By the way, Your Highness, the python robe you ordered to be found has been located. It was in a cabinet in the old palace, but the golden python claws were scratched. I’ve sent it to the Ministry of Internal Affairs for repairs, but it will likely take a few days to return.”

Xuan Mingzhu gazed at the sky, now clear after the rain, a faint smile gracing her lips, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Then we’ll wait a bit longer. The auspicious days from the Astrological Bureau must be nearing their end.”

---

Some debts are only worth settling when one is ready, and after not seeing the precious girl for several days, Xuan Mingzhu felt the urge to return home to check on her.

Unbeknownst to her, Mei Heting was currently waiting at the red-painted doors of Cuiwei Palace.

He had promised Bao Ya that he would bring her mother home.

Yingxiao and Xuetang were sent out, and the guards of the palace were not as soft-hearted as the women; they only recognized the orders of Princess Yi and not the prince consort.

Moreover, it was uncertain how many more days this lord could still be a prince consort.

Two cold halberds crossed in front, and Mei Heting could not take a single step inside.

His eyes were bloodshot, and a faint stubble had appeared on his lips.

In just one night, he had become much more withdrawn.

In the past, he had been begged countless times, but he refused to come.

Now, he found the door shut against him.

Fortunes turn; he was reaping what he had sown.

After the morning court, Yan Huai rushed straight to Cuiwei Palace and, upon seeing the guardian at the gate, felt a tickling in his teeth and palms.

As he approached, this young general from Pingnan suddenly smiled, casually cupped his fists, and said something to him.

When Xuan Mingzhu stepped out, she saw this scene.

In the sunlight, she resembled a Persian cat with her eyes slightly squinted: “What are you talking about?”

Mei Heting’s tightly pressed lips suddenly relaxed, and the air of detachment around him dissipated as he turned around.

Under the morning sun walked a woman in a long blue jacket edged with bamboo butterflies, with a white inner layer and a dark floral skirt outside, her waist adorned with a cloisonné purse with gold filigree flowers, and a jade hairpin.

She was extraordinarily beautiful.

The natural red mole between her brows exuded an indescribable allure.

Even though he repeatedly reminded himself that he was not someone who indulged in desire, he had to admit that Xuan Mingzhu’s appearance was truly striking.

Unlike the gentle and delicate green jade hue, her beauty burst forth like a peony in full bloom, radiating a generous and ostentatious allure, as if she were the blazing sun, eclipsing the brilliance of the moon and stars.

Mei Heting’s Adam’s apple moved slightly under his collar, and the shadows of his lowered eyelashes concealed his emotions.

Yan Huai, quick on his feet, ran up to her, asking with concern, “Sister, did you rest well yesterday? Do you have a headache? Did you drink honey water?”

The sunlight illuminated the boy’s eyes, turning them into transparent amber, giving him an innocent, naive look.

Xuan Mingzhu couldn’t help but reach out and ruffle his hair, just like when they were younger.

She caught a glimpse of Mei Heting out of the corner of her eye.

Seeing him in a snow-white robe, with a graceful and dignified demeanor, she thought to herself that she had indeed misjudged him.

After all, coming from a noble family, no matter the circumstances, his demeanor never faltered.

Just like when she first met him, he was also clad in white, youthful and radiant.

However, those who looked at him would no longer feel the same stirrings in their hearts as they did back then.

Xuan Mingzhu quietly felt her own heartbeat—very good, neither tumultuous nor numb.

The so-called deep-rooted feelings in poetry and plays were not impossible to untangle.

Once the thorns were removed, even if it left some bleeding voids, given time, they could heal on their own.

As the daughter of a noble family, she dared to love and hate, not the kind to cower in fear.

If she still had a long life ahead, she might not hesitate to seek out another companion and love passionately once more.

Unfortunately, heaven was known to be resolute; the wealthier one was, the more one could not escape the uncertainties of life and death.

Mei Heting was momentarily blinded by her indifferent gaze, and his heart felt hollow.

What was even more glaring was the hand that fell upon Yan Huai’s head.

For some reason, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of bitterness and wanted to snatch that hand away, using a handkerchief to clean her off bit by bit.

Inside, it felt as though countless ants were gnawing away at his pride and composure.

“Your Highness,” he stepped forward, speaking in a low voice, “Baoya has been thinking of you at home.”

Xuan Mingzhu calmly smoothed her sleeve, lips pressed tight, while Yan Huai nearby sharpened his canine teeth and inwardly cursed him for being despicable.

This scoundrel Mei was trying to use the child to bind her; why not just go straight for the beam and create a ruckus instead?

With an increasingly obedient expression, Yan Huai smiled brightly, saying, “Sister, I was just talking to Lord Mei about how in this morning’s court, Deputy Minister Di Yuanying put forth a recommendation for Lord Mei—to join the cabinet.”

He shot a glance at Mei Heting, revealing two little tiger teeth with ill intentions. “So I congratulate him; having just lost the title of prince consort, he’s about to enter the Fengge Luan platform, and a noble title and ministerial position are just around the corner!”

Mei Heting furrowed his brow.

He had taken leave for the past few days and had not attended the court, so he was completely unaware of this matter.

Hearing this sudden news, he too felt quite surprised.

Joining the cabinet meant he could no longer be the princess’s prince consort for the rest of his life.

He couldn’t help but worry that Xuan Mingzhu might believe Yan Huai’s instigation.

In his clear eyes, he revealed a hint of urgency: “Your Highness, don’t believe him. I was not aware of this matter beforehand, and I wouldn’t agree.”

Pausing, he lowered his voice, adding a touch of pleading, “Please, Your Highness, let’s return home together, shall we?”

His hand almost brushed against the hem of her clothing, but Xuan Mingzhu sidestepped to avoid him.