Her complex thoughts were like tangled hemp, like spider silk, like a white silk ribbon tightening around her throat, wrapping her up so tightly she couldn't breathe. It had been a long time since Wen Chan had felt this kind of powerlessness, of hitting a wall on every side. Even the air around her seemed to be filled with an invisible, heavy pressure.

Pei Rusong accompanied her in silence, his heart, in contrast, was very calm—as calm as it had been many years ago when he had just entered the Princess Manor and she had hauled him up in the middle of the night to help with official documents.

The world had not looked favorably on their marriage. In the eyes of most, only a “talented man and a beautiful woman” was considered a good match. The Princess was noble and strong-willed; being her Prince Consort was destined to come with many restrictions. Moreover, Pei Rusong came from the prestigious Pei Clan and was originally supposed to follow the path arranged by his family: start as a noble and respected civil official, edit historical records, manage rites and music, then be posted outside the capital for two or three years. With a few minor achievements, he could return and enter the central administration directly, securing a high-ranking position.

When the news of the imperial marriage decree was announced in his past life, the entire Pei Family was plunged into a solemn and gloomy atmosphere. For many years afterward, Pei Rusong heard others mention him in a tone of regret more than once, as if his entire life had been ruined by this marriage. But in truth, he had never felt that marrying the Princess was a bad thing.

When he first moved into the Princess Manor, Pei Rusong was still a bit hesitant, not wanting to take the initiative to curry favor so quickly. However, he soon discovered that the Princess was very busy and had no spare time to pay him any mind. There was little communication between them, and they were somewhat distant. But whether it was daily expenses or social engagements, someone always thought ahead and acted on his behalf. Even if it wasn't said aloud and there were no more intimate gestures, such thoroughness was in itself a form of respect.

Over time, Pei Rusong even had the illusion that he was being meticulously kept by her in a “golden house.”

Returning a favor was a traditional virtue of a gentleman, so Pei Rusong tactfully expressed to the Princess his gratitude for her meticulous care, adding that if there was anything he could do, he was also willing to serve her.

At the time, Wen Chan had merely smiled faintly and politely accepted his thanks. Pei Rusong had thought it was just a superficial pleasantry, but to his surprise, just as he was about to sleep that night, Wen Chan’s eunuch, Cheng Xuan, suddenly arrived with orders to fetch him, saying the Princess requested his help with a small matter.

Pei Rusong didn't have time to tidy himself up meticulously; he only dressed hastily. The moment he stepped into the brightly lit study, Wen Chan pointed to the empty seat opposite her without even looking up. He hesitated before sitting down under the expectant gazes of the others. Xianyun and Feixing immediately surrounded him, one serving tea and the other handing him a brush. Then, Cheng Xuan, carrying a stack of scrolls half a person's height, plopped them solidly in front of him with a thud, completely blocking his path.

Pei Rusong was stunned. “Your Highness, what is...?”

“The household, land, and tax revenue registers from Gu Prefecture for the past three years, as well as some documents on criminal cases, mountains, and geography.” Wen Chan’s brush never stopped moving as she instructed him in a calm, matter-of-fact tone, “You look through these first and draft a report with your recommendations. If you see any problems, write them down as well.”

Pei Rusong thought this was simply preposterous. “I am honored by Your Highness’s trust, but local civil administration is not my forte. I’m afraid I won’t grasp the key points...”

“It’s alright,” Wen Chan comforted him. “You’ll get good at it after writing them a few times. You must believe in yourself.”

Pei Rusong: “...”

The Princess was quite accomplished in the art of “forcing a duck onto a perch,” believing in “practice makes perfect.” It was better to just do it first, right or wrong. From being forced to study alongside her at the beginning, Pei Rusong gradually submitted until he became well-trained. By the time he realized what had happened, there was already a desk in the Princess’s study exclusively for his official work.

The one thing the Princess Manor did not lack was rooms. The Prince Consort had his own courtyard, but for some unknown reason, everyone tacitly agreed that the two of them should work together in the same study. If special circumstances like overtime or social engagements occurred, someone would even be sent back specifically to ask for leave.

It was as if... they knew someone would be waiting there with a lamp lit.

Pei Rusong worked for the Emperor during the day and for the Emperor’s daughter at night. He worked diligently for three years, almost transforming himself from a Prince Consort into the Princess's strategist, finally becoming proficient in political affairs and skilled with a brush. Seeing the Princess's growing prestige and power, as she began to cultivate her own confidants at court, many people speculated that the Prince Consort would be given an important position with her help and secretly tried to curry favor with him. Who would have thought that when a rebellion broke out in Gu Prefecture that year, the Princess would turn around and shove Pei Rusong into the imperial army sent to suppress it.

After many twists and turns, the Prince Consort fortunately returned safely and was promoted based on his military merits. But this move completely extinguished any ambition others had of winning over or clinging to Pei Rusong, and it henceforth became irrefutable proof that “Princess Chiming and the Prince Consort were on bad terms.”

After Gu Prefecture was pacified, the Emperor dispatched the third prince Wen Zhuo, the fourth prince Wen Rui, and others to the north to appease the populace. Pei Rusong once again accompanied them, and this time he was gone for another two years. Later, Gu Prefecture was changed to Dunning Commandery, and Wen Zhuo was enfeoffed as the Prince of Yan, concurrently serving as the military governor of Dunning. Pei Rusong did not stay in the capital for long. His father, Left Imperial Secretary Pei Luan, was demoted and sent out of the capital due to the Crown Prince's case, and shortly after, he himself was transferred to Dunning Commandery to serve as a military advisor in the Prince of Yan's manor. This time, it was obvious that Princess Chiming was behind it.

During those ten years, Pei Rusong had thought he understood the Princess, and that the Princess understood him. The two shared an unspoken, tacit understanding: he fulfilled the duties of a Prince Consort, so the Princess had no worries at home and could focus on her endeavors at court; and the Princess fulfilled his ambition, allowing him to break free from the path arranged by the Pei Family and establish himself in the border commanderies by his own merit, becoming a true minister capable of governing.

If such a mutually beneficial relationship could have continued, they would have been considered a very good husband and wife. But the fire at Ciyun Temple that night burned through layers of concealment, and the Princess’s grand plan was finally revealed in its entirety. Only then did Pei Rusong belatedly realize what a long and far-reaching path she had paved for him.

From the Princess Manor to the border battlefields and then to the imperial court, this meticulous planning continued to shelter him silently and enduringly for many years after her death.

Pei Rusong had to overturn all his previous assumptions and re-examine the clues of the past from the very beginning. He refused to return to the Pei Family and could not stay in the Princess Manor, stubbornly insisting on living in the Ciyun Temple, which had been rebuilt exactly as it was. He thought that Wen Chan was such a farsighted person, she couldn't possibly have failed to account for the Prince of Yue's murderous intent. She must have faked her death to escape. Perhaps once the political situation stabilized, she would suddenly reappear.

A year or two passed, and he thought, 'Lu Shuo has thrown in the towel, and the New Emperor is at his wits' end over the Princess’s old followers. Surely she can’t stand by and watch any longer and will appear now?'

Another five or six years went by, and he thought, 'Perhaps she has grown tired of the court struggles and has run off to some place with beautiful scenery to live a carefree life. Is the reason she won’t come back because she feels that things between them are now settled?'

Ten years later, the realm was in chaos, and the nation was in turmoil. The Princess still had not returned, and Pei Rusong finally lost all hope.

For so many years, Pei Rusong had taken his old memories, turned them over and over, and scrutinized them piece by piece. There was only one thing he had never doubted—Wen Chan might not care about the Prince Consort, the Emperor, or wealth and power, but she would never treat the nation and its people as a game.

Just like at this very moment. Though they were matters and mistakes of the past, she still treated them as her own affliction, feeling the pain as if it were her own.

Seeing her brow furrow deeper and deeper, Pei Rusong suddenly spoke. “When I was in Dunning, the local Yue'nu people were very skilled at playing the pipa. I learned a song, thinking that if I had the chance one day, I would play it for Your Highness.”

“Hm?”

Wen Chan was briefly distracted from her anxiety. She saw him rise and walk to the outer room, returning with a pipa that had been placed there at some unknown time. “What is this for?”

“Failing to see Your Highness one last time in my past life is my greatest regret. To have the good fortune to meet again today is already a special grace from heaven.” Pei Rusong’s voice was low, and the thousand words that came to his lips all felt pale and weak. “Playing this song for Your Highness will be considered the resolution of this lingering attachment. The fate of our past life has ended. In this life... it is all up to Your Highness’s will.”

From the moment they were both reborn with their memories, this life was destined to be different from the last. For that marriage, which was seen by the world as forced, Pei Rusong had no right to say “no.” Once Wen Chan chose to let go, it would be like collapsing quicksand that no one could save.

Struggling to win her back might not look very dignified, but what was that compared to a long ten years?

Pei Rusong was different when he played the pipa compared to when he played the zither. Perhaps it was because guests were watching when he played the zither, so he paid more attention to a proper and dignified bearing. But the pipa was played for her alone, so his movements were more casual and light. He even began to sing the lyrics. His voice was quite pleasant, neither off-key nor cracking.

The moon is high, shining on the empty hall.

All is quiet, the autumn night is long.

The river is cold, its waters do not flow; the swallows have flown away in pairs.

Frost chills the luminous cup in the night; rain beats upon the tree of longing.

How to express the sorrow of parting, how to speak of dusk and dawn?

A heart thousands of miles away, dancing nimbly on the strings.

When the last note of the strings faded, Wen Chan remained silent for a long time before nodding. “It’s very beautiful. Thank you for the thought.”

Pei Rusong managed a smile, gave a slight nod, and rose to place the pipa back on a nearby low table.

Only then did Wen Chan notice the distinct red marks on his fingertips. He must have been practicing diligently at home recently and developed blisters. Her heart couldn’t help but ache again. Just as she was about to speak, Pei Rusong spoke first. “I will find a way to dissolve the marriage engagement between the Pei Family and the Su Clan of Zhongzhou. I ask Your Highness not to dwell on past matters. No matter what Your Highness decides... I have no complaints. I only hope that Your Highness will take care of yourself.”

Wen Chan: “...”

She felt that this scene was a bit strange. With the talk of parting and taking care, it made her seem like a heartless person who had turned her back on him.

“Only you and I know about the events of our past life. I thought perhaps Your Highness might still have a use for me.” Pei Rusong gave Wen Chan a deep bow. “This servant is willing to be an aide and retainer at Your Highness’s command, or to join the ‘Deep Forest’ and pledge my loyalty to Your Highness...”

Wen Chan pinched the bridge of her nose and raised a hand to stop him from continuing. “In your situation, it makes no difference whether you join the ‘Deep Forest’ or not. You don’t need to worry about these things for now. Let me think about it some more.”

But Pei Rusong still leaned on the edge of the table. He hesitated, wanting to say more, but finally said with a bitter smile, “This is not something I should be saying, but...”

“If Your Highness is unwilling to use me, then do not keep me. A secret is only safe when no one knows it. If I bring any harm to Your Highness, I would rather not have this next life.”

Wen Chan’s expression suddenly turned severe.

Pei Rusong turned his head away, unconsciously clenching his fists, punishing himself for his slip of the tongue with faint, sharp pangs of pain. He had indeed started with the intention of “making a concession in order to advance,” but as he spoke, he found himself becoming genuinely emotional. It was probably the anxiety of the past few days taking its toll. He only looked calm; in reality, he was quite tormented.

“Xianyun once told me a story,” Wen Chan said suddenly. “When she was little, she raised a puppy. One time, her whole family had to go on a long trip, so they entrusted the dog to a neighbor for a month.”

“When they returned, the puppy suddenly refused to eat or drink. It followed its master everywhere, and even the sound of footsteps would startle it awake from sleep. Xianyun said it thought it had been abandoned by its master and was scared out of its wits.”

“Pei Xuechen, are you a dog too?”

Pei Rusong: “...”

Although Wen Chan did not intend to curse him, the Little White Flower was still frightened. His already pale face turned a deathly white.

“Go back, eat your meals, get some sleep, and do something productive. Spend less time thinking about how to be clingy.” Wen Chan rose expressionlessly, walked around him towards the door, and warned coldly, “You’d better not let me hear any news about hunger strikes or hanging yourself. Otherwise, I’ll make sure you never step within ten li of the Princess Manor for the rest of your life. Remember that.”

The Princess departed with a flick of her sleeve.

Pei Rusong, drained of strength, supported himself on the table and sat down, slowly calming his racing heart and breathing, repeatedly mulling over her final words in his mind. After an unknown amount of time, footsteps were heard from the outer room. The Grand Princess’s attendant led him back to the flower hall. Princess Chiming had already left. The performance here was over, and the steward was distributing rewards to the musicians. When it was his turn, however, he received an extra box of hand balm and a dou of pearls.

What was the story behind the pearls... Was it an allusion to a ‘pearl in the palm,’ or was she mocking him for ‘passing off fish eyes as pearls’?

Grand Princess Ningsi summoned him forward, suppressing a smile as she said, “The Princess specifically ordered the gift of Hepu Pearl and also said, ‘His zither playing is average, but his poetry is decent. Those hands should be kept for writing. Don’t waste them.’”