“You’re finally not arguing with me anymore.”

The new emperor looked at the coffin not far away, his eyes bloodshot and filled with pain and despair.

The wine jug slipped from his hand, rolling down the steps and spilling its contents, soaking his robes, yet he seemed not to care.

“Didn’t you say you loved snowy days the most? It’s snowing. Shall I take you out to see it?”

The empty hall remained silent, as still as death.

The new emperor sat in place for a while, then suddenly erupted in anger, kicking the wine jug beside him.

His eyes were red like those of a trapped beast.

He staggered to his feet, walked over to the coffin, but then, as if afraid to disturb her, restrained all his anger.

He stared intently at the figure lying inside, as if trying to memorize every feature.

“Yanxi, won’t you say something to me, just once more?”

For the first time, the new emperor, who had never shown weakness to anyone, spoke to a corpse in a pleading tone.

All his pride and arrogance shattered in that moment, leaving a hole in his heart, one filled with the bitter cold of winter.

Covering his eyes, he felt the wetness beneath his palm.

The Grand Princess entered the hall with attendants in tow.

Seeing the emperor’s disheveled state, she frowned deeply, reprimanding him, “Look at yourself! Is this how an emperor should appear?”

The emperor remained silent.

Noticing the deceased woman dressed in phoenix robes within the coffin, the Grand Princess’s expression darkened further. “Ridiculous! The empress is still alive, yet you bury her in phoenix attire? How do you expect the world to view the empress?”

At last, the emperor spoke, his tone unyielding: “What I couldn’t give her in life, I shall make up for in death.”

The Grand Princess sneered, “Fan Wei has rebelled, and the King of Xinyang has proclaimed himself emperor. Instead of quelling the unrest, you’re here lamenting over a dead woman. Have you been cursed?”

She turned to her attendants. “Strip her of those phoenix robes! Is there no regard for decorum?”

The attendants hesitated, glancing nervously at each other.

Frustrated, the Grand Princess let out a cold laugh and prepared to do it herself.

An old maidservant stopped her, “Princess, it’s an ill omen. Let them handle it.”

The emperor’s voice was dark, “If you still consider me your nephew, please leave her alone.”

The Grand Princess looked at him in disbelief. “You’re willing to forsake even your own aunt for the sake of a dead woman? Tell me, what made her so special?”

The emperor closed his eyes, replying, “She was too pure and kind, and that’s why she met this end.”

He had grown up amidst intrigue and treachery, never encountering eyes so clear, looking at others with not a trace of deceit, as innocent as a deer in the woods.

In the palace, every woman fought fiercely for her own survival or for her family’s gain, but she was different.

She had never fought, never schemed, only ever wanting to escape.

The Grand Princess, restraining her anger, asked, “Pure and kind? Let me ask you this: do you still care for the throne? The various princes are stirring. Yet, you’re preparing to bury a concubine in phoenix robes. Whom do you think you’re humiliating? It’s the empress and the empress dowager! Your uncle’s entire family! How many people do you still have by your side? Without your uncle’s soldiers, how will you face the rebels?”

The emperor said nothing, his expression sullen.

These responsibilities had always weighed upon him since childhood, burdens his mother had imposed upon him, which he could never shake off.

Seeing that he seemed to understand the gravity of the situation, the Grand Princess ordered the attendants, “Change Concubine Xi into proper mourning clothes.”

Finally, the attendants, trembling with fear, stepped forward.

The body had grown stiff from the days since her passing, and the attendants had to exert considerable effort to unclasp her hands, which had been crossed over her chest.

As the Grand Princess glanced at the body, she noticed that while “Concubine Xi’s” hands bore visible postmortem discoloration, her face was spotless.

The Grand Princess’s expression shifted as she turned to the emperor. “Your Majesty, you haven’t attended court for days. Please call upon the Duke of Anguo, the Marquis of Zhongwu, and Chancellor Song to the imperial study for a council meeting.”

The emperor, as if resigned, replied, “I’ll follow whatever you arrange, Aunt.”

The Grand Princess commanded, “Escort His Majesty to his quarters to wash and rest.”

The chief eunuch guided the emperor toward the door.

Just as they reached the doorway, a young maid who had been dressing “Concubine Xi” let out a terrified scream.

The Grand Princess’s eyes flashed with fury, “What are you screaming for? Drag her out and behead her for disrupting the peace of the hall!”

The maid immediately knelt, pleading for mercy, but her cry had alerted the emperor.

He quickly returned to the coffin, where he discovered that the skin near the woman’s neck was peeling from dehydration, exposing a patch beneath.

The skin below her neck was covered in postmortem spots, while her face was smooth and pale.

That patch of skin didn’t belong to the body.

The emperor reached out and tore off the skin near the neck, revealing that the entire face was an intricately crafted human skin mask!

As the emperor stared at the face inside the coffin, belonging to the head maid of Cangjiao Palace, his gaze turned icy cold in an instant. “Good. Very good!” he muttered.

All the weariness that had clung to him moments ago disappeared, leaving behind only boundless rage.

“Where is Jiang Jing’an?” His bloodshot eyes were filled with fury and madness.

---

Madam Jiang and her son, along with the Chu family, had just boarded the carriage to leave the city.

The capital had been in chaos for days, and many merchants were also leaving.

With a little money, passing through the city gates wasn’t too difficult.

The Chu family had been under surveillance by the imperial guards, with plainclothes soldiers following even the family servants who went out to buy vegetables.

Any letters they sent out were intercepted, and any incoming correspondence was also stopped.

Essentially, they had been cut off from the outside world.

In order to rescue the Chu family, Feng Shuo’s men had bought the house next to theirs and secretly opened a passage between the two courtyards.

This allowed them to quietly move the Chu family and Madam Jiang’s family into the carriage next door.

However, since all of the Chu family’s businesses were under watch, any movement of funds in their accounts was reported.

They could only bring a few silver notes for daily expenses and some valuable jewelry when they fled.

To avoid drawing attention, the carriage they rode was plain and cramped, with only the simplest of interiors, as they had little time to prepare.

Jiang Yigui had an injury to his leg and had to lie down, a thin blanket covering him.

Each jolt of the carriage sent sharp pain through his wound, and his forehead was drenched in cold sweat.

Madam Jiang, watching her son suffer, felt a stab of pain in her heart. “Yigui, are your wounds hurting again? I’ll get you some pain medicine,” she said, her voice trembling.

Wiping her tears, she rummaged through her bag for a small porcelain bottle.

Pulling out the stopper, she tipped it into her hand, but nothing came out.

Panicked, she tried again, but the bottle was empty. “The medicine’s gone?” she cried, anxious.

Jiang Yigui, gritting his teeth through the pain, said softly, “I’m fine, Mother.”

Madam Jiang broke down, covering her face with her hands. “You’ve been waking up in pain at night. How will you endure this journey without the pain medicine?”

She had not been doing well in the Chu household.

After the disaster that befell the family, her second sister-in-law had asked for a divorce, worried about being implicated.

Now, her second brother looked at her as if she were his enemy.

Her eldest brother’s daughter had also lost a good marriage prospect, leading him to ridicule her, while her sister-in-law made cutting remarks.

Although the elderly parents of the Chu family were kind to her, her brothers and sisters-in-law had their own hardships.

How could the parents protect her every time?

Madam Jiang was heartbroken, knowing she had caused her family such trouble. But she had no choice.

How could she, on her own, take her disabled son to the borderlands to find her daughter?

She had once been headstrong and prideful, but now she had no choice but to lower her head.

Jiang Yigui’s medicine was extremely expensive, available only at the capital’s Xinglin Medical Hall.

The day before, when they received news of their impending departure, Madam Jiang had asked her sister-in-law, who managed the household finances, to purchase several bottles.

However, the servant returned empty-handed, and Madam Jiang knew her sister-in-law had deliberately slighted them.

For the sake of her son, she had wanted to complain to the elderly lady of the house, but Jiang Yigui had stopped her.

Now, seeing her son in such pain, Madam Jiang couldn’t hold back any longer.

Seeing that the road ahead was blocked with carriages, she wiped her eyes and said, “I’ll go find your uncle and have him send someone to the medical hall for your medicine.”

Jiang Yigui, pale with pain, protested weakly, “Mother, I’m fine. Don’t trouble Uncle.”

Madam Jiang, both upset and guilty, replied, “What nonsense. Your uncle is my brother, your own uncle. If your aunt won’t spend money on your medicine, do you think your uncle won’t care for you?”

Without waiting for a reply, Madam Jiang got out of the carriage.

---

Across the street, in a teahouse, Jiang Shangshu was seated by the window with an elderly man in a scholar’s robe.

The steam from their tea cups fogged the cold air, blurring their faces.

“Everything you’ve asked, I don’t know,” Jiang Shangshu said, his eyes lowered as he brushed the tea leaves in his cup with the lid.

The elderly man had a full head of white hair.

Anyone in the court would immediately recognize him as the retired former Grand Tutor Lin.

“If the princess is still alive, I ask for nothing more than that, on special occasions, someone pays their respects at the emperor and empress’s graves and adds fresh soil to their tombs,” said the old man.

Jiang Shangshu’s expression flickered with pain, but he still answered the same. “Grand Tutor, you think too highly of me. You’ve searched for the princess for years, to no avail. How could I know where she is?”

He stood up and bowed. “There are matters at home I must attend to. I won’t take up more of your time.”

The old man, calm and composed, responded, “Jing’an is busy now. Go ahead.”

After leaving the room, Jiang Shangshu’s face darkened.

After all these years, how had Grand Tutor Lin traced things back to him?

Lost in thought, Jiang Shangshu walked outside.

The streets were congested with carriages, and the Jiang family’s own carriage was stuck in the traffic.

As he stood under the wine shop’s eaves, scanning the bustling street, his eyes suddenly caught sight of a familiar figure.