Secret Passage

Wei Lan frowned and asked, “How am I supposed to save her? I can’t even protect myself right now. I just met the princess and was immediately confined. Isn’t that too harsh?”

Dong Tao twisted the hem of her clothes and whispered, “The princess punished you so severely because she was angry that you ran away from home. Once the prince consort returns to plead for you, I’m sure she’ll let you out.”

Wei Lan’s heart stirred. The prince consort—he was her father. It seemed this couple was playing the classic good cop, bad cop routine: a strict mother and a kind father.

After Wei Lan had eaten her fill, Dong Tao led her to a secluded courtyard. The yard was silent, save for the rustling of leaves in the wind, creating an eerily tranquil atmosphere. The paper windows emitted small, flickering points of light, casting a hazy glow inside the room.

As soon as she pushed the door open, before she could see clearly, a warm and soft body threw itself onto her in a tight embrace. Dong Tao squeezed in as well, hugging them both, and the three of them instantly burst into tears. Wei Lan felt her chest dampen with tears and awkwardly patted the two sobbing girls, gently comforting them, “Alright, alright, don’t cry.”

Wei Lan felt a twinge of emotion—though she hadn’t reunited with her mother in a tearful embrace, her friends had. At least there were still people who cared about her.

When the crying finally stopped, Wei Lan took a closer look at the girl in front of her. Her eyebrows and eyes did bear some resemblance to her own, but upon closer inspection, there were clear signs of deliberate imitation. What was even more unsettling was that Qiu Tang’s expressions and mannerisms were exactly like her modern self.

Wei Lan suddenly felt a chill down her spine. “Tell me the truth,” she grabbed both their shoulders. “Have I changed at all? My personality, habits, anything?”

Qiu Tang and Dong Tao exchanged a glance, then shook their heads in unison. “Your Highness is exactly the same as before.”

Wei Lan collapsed onto a stool. No wonder no one noticed she wasn’t Gong Yunrong. This was too strange. She was a modern person who had time-traveled, yet her behavior and habits were identical to those of the ancient princess?

Outside, the night watch struck the third watch. Wei Lan suddenly remembered something. “Wait, where are Huan Ying and the girl Hong Hua who came with me? Are they alright?”

Qiu Tang replied, “Lord Huan only follows the princess’s orders and comes and goes like a shadow. As for Miss Hong Hua, she’s been placed in Luhua Pavilion. The princess won’t make things difficult for her.”

Only then did Wei Lan breathe a sigh of relief. Remembering what the princess had said, she quickly asked, “Why did I run away from home in the first place?”

The two maids suddenly looked evasive. Qiu Tang hesitated for a moment before asking, “Your Highness, have you really forgotten everything?”

Wei Lan sighed. “I really did hit my head. I don’t remember anything.”

Dong Tao raised a finger tentatively. “Then tell me, how many fingers am I holding up?”

“…I lost my memory, not my intelligence!” Wei Lan chuckled helplessly. “Just tell me, maybe I’ll remember something.”

Qiu Tang retrieved a leather box from the wooden cabinet and gently pushed it toward Wei Lan. She opened it in confusion and found more than twenty neatly stacked letters inside. She randomly pulled one out—the salutation read “To the Heir of Xiangcheng Marquis,” and the signature at the bottom was “Yunrong.” The letter was filled with restrained, poetic exchanges, never once mentioning the word “longing,” yet every word carried an intimate undertone.

“Are these… love letters?” Wei Lan held up the letter and glanced at Qiu Tang, whose cheeks flushed slightly.

Dong Tao took over and softly explained, “Your Highness, you said you would rather roam the world with Huan Ying than marry the heir of Xiangcheng Marquis. That’s why you ran away. After that, Qiu Tang forged letters in your handwriting, claiming you were ill and needed to recuperate. But that young lord is deeply devoted and keeps sending medicine for you every few days.”

Wei Lan was stunned. The amount of information was overwhelming, and it took her a moment to process. “I… eloped with Huan Ying?”

Dong Tao sighed. “Exactly, Your Highness. And now, you’ve completely forgotten him.”

Wei Lan’s mind buzzed. She recalled the way Huan Ying had looked at her along the journey—always watching her in a daze, standing guard outside her door at night, his eyes tinged with sorrow. He had often said, “You promised to take me away from the princess’s residence.” So he had already been given this promise.

But those emotions belonged to Gong Yunrong, not her. And everyone thought she was just pretending to have amnesia. She couldn’t reciprocate Huan Ying’s feelings—especially since Huan Ying had promised to arrange a meeting between her and Liu Mingyi once they returned to the capital.

“I need to find Huan Ying and get some answers,” Wei Lan clutched the letter and stood up. “He promised to help me see Mingyi.”

Qiu Tang quickly held her back. “It’s the middle of the night! If you want to find Huan Ying, you’ll have to ask Commander Huan tomorrow—he’s the only one who might know where Huan Ying is.”

That night, Dong Tao returned to her dormitory while Wei Lan and Qiu Tang shared a bed. Wei Lan lay awake, her mind in turmoil. She thought about her identity, Huan Ying’s promise, Liu Mingyi’s safety, and the past she could not remember.

Qiu Tang whispered beside her, “Your Highness, don’t overthink it. Get some rest. We’ll find a way tomorrow.”

Wei Lan nodded and closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of camphorwood from the bedding and listening to Qiu Tang’s steady breathing. In her mind, the images of Huan Ying and Liu Mingyi intertwined. She didn’t know how to face everything, so she could only suppress her anxiety for now and wait for the morning.

The next morning, Wei Lan was awakened by hurried footsteps. Rubbing her tired eyes, she saw a thin middle-aged man sitting by her bedside. He wore a light gray robe with dark patterns, exuding an air of elegance. His scholarly face, framed by a jade-like complexion, was lined with weariness, and his phoenix eyes were bloodshot. He hastily wiped his eyes with his sleeve, leaving a damp mark on the silver-trimmed fabric.

This was the Prince Consort, Gong Yonggu.

“Rong’er!” His choked voice made Wei Lan’s heart tremble. She tentatively called him “Father,” and immediately, his eyes reddened again.

Gong Yonggu bombarded her with questions. “Are you feeling unwell? Do your knees hurt? Is your head still dizzy? Have you really forgotten everything? Should we summon the imperial physician?”

Wei Lan smiled and shook her head. “Father, I’m really fine.”

He finally sighed in relief. “As long as you still recognize me. Your mother is too harsh—you’ve already come home, yet she still punished you… Let me check if there are any bruises.”

Wei Lan felt warmth in her heart. She could imagine how the father and daughter used to confide in each other about the princess’s strictness. In the Ming Dynasty, a prince consort had no political power, so this kind father had poured all his love into his daughter.

“I’m really okay,” Wei Lan rolled up her trouser leg to show him—there wasn’t even a red mark on her knee. She couldn’t help but grin, remembering how she had slipped away after kneeling for less than half an hour the night before.

Gong Yonggu finally relented. “I’ll take you back to Luhua Pavilion.”

There, her friend Hong Hua was waiting, her eyes lighting up with joy as she called out, “Your Highness!”

Wei Lan seized Hong Hua’s hands and examined her. “So this is where you’ve been!”

Hong Hua lowered her head slightly and softly replied, “Master told me to wait here for you, saying you’d return today.”

Wei Lan decided—if she couldn’t leave through the gates, perhaps there was another way.

“There’s still one path left,” Qiu Tang whispered.

“Where?” Wei Lan asked.

Qiu Tang pulled back the bedding, revealing a hidden passage beneath the wooden bed. A dark, musty tunnel stretched downward.

“This passage leads straight to the imperial guards’ quarters,” Qiu Tang said.

Wei Lan’s eyes gleamed. If she could avoid the princess’s spies, she might finally find Huan Ying—and perhaps, Liu Mingyi too.