Fang Linyuan had Zhao Yu stay in the residence for a short while. By the time Zhao Yu rose to take her leave in the afternoon, their conversation had been pleasant, and both host and guest had enjoyed themselves.

The only regret was that Zhao Chu kept staring at him the whole time.

This made Fang Linyuan, for once, feel somewhat uneasy. He chose his words carefully, and in the end, he never managed to ask Zhao Yu about the legendary naval forces of years past.

Fang Linyuan stood up to escort her out, but Zhao Yu motioned for him to stay, saying that Zhao Chu could accompany her instead and that there was no need for him to trouble himself.

Thinking that they might have something to talk about, Fang Linyuan did not insist and bid Zhao Yu farewell in the main hall.

But in truth, Zhao Yu and Zhao Chu had nothing to say to each other.

Zhao Yu was more than ten years older than Zhao Chu. When Zhao Chu was four, Zhao Yu had already married.

Though she was Emperor Hongyou’s eldest daughter, she was born to a concubine of little favour. As a result, she was married off neither high nor low. After just two years of marriage, she followed her husband to his post in Fuzhou.

The year she returned, Zhao Chu was eleven.

Her husband had died, and she had come back to the capital to live as a widow.

From that day on, she led a secluded life, as if she were a proper lady of the inner chambers. But only Zhao Chu knew that she could take down three to five highly skilled guards with a single hand.

That time, it had been Zhao Jin and his group of frivolous noble friends. They had run into Zhao Chu in the palace, and upon seeing his delicate beauty, they had approached him, speaking with teasing and disrespectful words.

Zhao Chu kept a cold expression and stepped back cautiously, only to find his retreat blocked by Zhao Jin’s guards.

“Zhao Chu, you're already a grown woman. How can you keep being so withdrawn?” Zhao Jin stood nearby, arms crossed, his smile particularly repulsive. “People are talking to you—why don’t you respond?”

The group of scoundrels burst into laughter.

Amid their jeering, the sound of swift and ruthless fighting came from behind Zhao Chu.

He turned around to see Zhao Yu, passing by in a simple gauze dress, effortlessly taking down the guards with one hand.

Then she turned to him and said calmly, “Fifth Royal Sister, let’s go.”

Zhao Jin wanted to stop them, but considering the hierarchy of seniority and Zhao Yu’s terrifying skill, he dared not say another word.

It was only when he slunk away with his friends, humiliated, that he loudly spoke of how immoral women in the common folk would inevitably bring misfortune upon their husbands.

At the time, Zhao Yu’s hair was still wrapped in the white mourning cloth for her late husband.

“He was talking about you.” Once they were far enough away, Zhao Chu told her. “I owe you one. If it’s inconvenient for you to act, within the next month, I’ll deal with him for you.”

Zhao Jin was thoughtless. He was often alone. At twelve years old, Zhao Chu had already learned plenty of underhanded tricks from surviving in the inner palace. Making Zhao Jin suffer a few times would be effortless.

But Zhao Yu simply lowered her eyes and, after a moment, gave a faint smile.

“You are still young. Your best strategy is to protect yourself,” she said. “Whatever you plan to do, wait until you’ve grown up.”

After that, they didn’t see each other again for many years.

*

The two of them walked silently through the flower hall and front courtyard, stopping at the entrance of the residence. The Grand Princess’s carriage was already waiting there. Zhao Yu turned back and met Zhao Chu’s alluring yet indifferent gaze.

“I’m leaving,” she said.

Zhao Chu nodded and replied, “Take care on the road.”

Zhao Yu looked at him for a moment, then smiled slightly. “You have changed quite a bit since the last time I saw you.”

Zhao Chu didn’t seem to fully grasp the meaning behind her words.

He remained silent, only looking at Zhao Yu with slight confusion.

Zhao Yu chuckled softly, but when she looked at Zhao Chu again, her expression was one of earnest advice.

“Your husband is indeed a good man,” she said. “But you are not someone who can settle into a quiet life. You must understand—if you fall too deeply into love, you will trap yourself within the inner chambers, never to leave again.”

She paused slightly.

Tilting her head, she caught sight of the curtain on her carriage.

The curtain was made of the heaviest Hangzhou silk.

Hangzhou silk was known for its vibrant colours, but this carriage was draped in a rare shade of sky blue—subdued and solemn, yet among the most expensive of its kind.

She had no choice but to use this.

Because she was a widow. Even her travelling carriage had to be adorned in such muted colours to reflect the long, sorrowful mourning of her late husband.

Zhao Yu let out a cool chuckle, shook her head, and said to Zhao Chu, “Forget it. Cherishing the present is never the wrong choice.”

With that, she turned away without hesitation and stepped into the luxurious yet sombre, spacious yet tightly enclosed carriage.

From the street corner, the faint sound of opera singing drifted over—it was a troupe hired by a household nearby, performing Southern melodies.

The song was The Five Classic Hills.

In the play, a virtuous woman faithfully endured years of hardship in a cold, desolate house, waiting for her husband’s return. Eighteen years of chastity earned her eternal renown. This, it was said, was the grandest achievement a woman could hope for.

And as for leading an army into battle, driving back the enemy?

That was an act of reckless defiance—one that, under the boundless mercy of a father’s love, an indulgent emperor might just barely forgive his eldest daughter for committing.

The lyrics drifted into Zhao Yu’s ears. She remained expressionless.

On the night of her wedding, she met her husband for the first time.

After several years of a marriage as bland as water, he died—died of mediocrity and arrogance, died because he refused to listen to her warnings and strategies.

After that, she seemed to have finally broken free from her shackles. Taking the troops he had left behind, she repelled the pirates who had dominated the seas, amid the vast, surging waves.

Yet, she still could not escape the emperor’s decree.

She was ordered to return to the capital and commanded to spend the rest of her life guarding his ancestral tablet, mourning him for the remainder of her days.

Zhao Yu slowly closed her eyes.

"Let’s go," she said to the coachman ahead.

But just then, a soft knocking sound came from the carriage.

She lifted the curtain and saw Zhao Chu standing below, gazing up at her with a slight tilt of his head.

"The fate of being confined within the inner chambers—it can be changed," Zhao Chu said. "Do you believe that?"

*

Fragrant incense from the golden censer rose in delicate spirals, dispersing throughout the grand hall.

Sunlight streamed through the enormous carved windows of golden nanmu wood, divided into beams by the intricate latticework. The silent palace attendants, holding dusters in their hands, stepped across the golden-bricked floor, replacing the exquisite white-glazed porcelain vases with fresh, rare crimson peonies.

Emperor Hongyou sat before his imperial desk. Standing below him was Yuan Honglang, the current Vice Minister of Personnel.

Like Sang Zhixin, he was from a humble background, a scholar who had studied extensively and entered office as a top-ranking jinshi. However, he was younger and far less shrewd.

Ten years ago, Emperor Hongyou would not have favoured using such a man.

Unlike Sang Zhixin, Yuan Honglang was not well-versed in navigating human relationships. Even now, in his thirties or forties, he still carried an unpolished scholar’s pride.

Because of this, he had made enemies among many court officials, who found him rigid, strict, and lacking in warmth. Complaints about him being overly severe were constantly submitted to the Censorate.

Yet in recent years, especially after the Jiangnan affair, Emperor Hongyou had begun to see the value in such a man.

His unyielding nature and simplicity of thought made him more trustworthy than most.

On the emperor’s desk lay the memorials Yuan Honglang had submitted, containing a meticulous record of his investigation into the Jiangnan officials—every detail painstakingly documented. Reading through it gave Emperor Hongyou a headache.

He truly was rigid. The officials under investigation had already been dealt with, yet he still insisted on compiling such exhaustive records, as if afraid that any detail might be overlooked.

Emperor Hongyou skimmed through the memorial, then closed it with a chuckle.

"You are diligent indeed," he said. "But today, Zhen summoned you here for another matter."

At this, Yuan Honglang bowed with hands clasped, awaiting the emperor’s decree.

"There’s no need to be so serious. It’s just a casual discussion," Emperor Hongyou said with a smile, signalling for the eunuch to grant him a seat. Then, he relayed the unusual findings that Fang Linyuan had uncovered during his campaign against the bandits in Chongzhou.

"Tell me, Minister Yuan, whom do you think I should send to handle this matter?" the emperor asked after finishing his account.

Yuan Honglang furrowed his brows in thought for a moment before replying, "Your Majesty, if the case involves the military, then to ensure thoroughness, I believe at least two officials should be sent to investigate."

"Oh?" The emperor was intrigued by this indirect answer. "Why do you say so?"

"As a civil official, I have studied the classics, but I know nothing about military provisions or troops," Yuan Honglang explained.

"For a case like this, a military officer familiar with army supplies and soldiers would be best suited to conduct a full investigation. However, given the complexity of the Yan Province military as Your Majesty described, it would also be prudent to send an official from the Censorate or the Court of Judicial Review to oversee the matter and ensure there are no unforeseen complications."

Emperor Hongyou was evidently pleased with this suggestion.

"A military officer and a civil official…" he mused, growing increasingly satisfied with the idea.

After the Jiangnan affair, he had become wary of many of his court officials. But if they could keep each other in check, then his concerns could be resolved.

"You speak wisely," Emperor Hongyou nodded in agreement. Then he asked, "Speaking of military officers—what is your opinion of Fang Linyuan?"

Yuan Honglang paused briefly, as if he had not given it much thought before.

"I do not know General Fang well. Setting aside his past military achievements in Longxi, based on his handling of this bandit suppression for Your Majesty, he appears to be a meticulous and responsible man," he replied.

"Hmm…" The emperor nodded, observing his expression. "Then do you believe he is someone worth employing?"

"I dare not make a definitive judgment," Yuan Honglang shook his head. "In terms of ability, General Fang is certainly competent. But Your Majesty must guard against him overstepping his authority. If he reaches too far—if he begins making decisions on behalf of the throne simply because of his capabilities—then he must not be used."

Emperor Hongyou fell into deep thought, recalling Fang Linyuan’s demeanour during his earlier audience.

His work was indeed swift and precise. Every task assigned to him had been carried out flawlessly.

So flawlessly, in fact, that it was almost unsettling… Yet, he had never shown any inclination toward overstepping his bounds.

Even now, after uncovering the irregularities in the Yan Province military, he had taken the most straightforward approach—bringing all the captured bandits directly to the capital.

During his report to the court just now, he had spoken only of the case itself, showing no desire to push further into the investigation.

However, when he was told to return to the manor to rest, it was clear that he let out a sigh of relief.

Sure enough, it’s the nature of youth, Emperor Hongyou thought, a slight, relaxed smile gradually appearing in his eyes.

"Mm..." He nodded thoughtfully and said,

"Your Excellency's words are quite true."

*

After his trip to Yan Province, the long, scorching summer in the capital gradually passed.

The autumn winds began to rise, and within a few days, the Mid-Autumn Festival arrived.

The lotus flowers in the Anping Marquis' residence had withered. Recently, the gardeners had cleared away the remnants from the pond.

Now, the clear pond water only held the swimming red kois, and around the edge of the pond were placed heavy-petaled chrysanthemums, their red and yellow petals contrasting beautifully.

Thus, on the night of the Mid-Autumn Festival, Song Zhaojin ordered that the evening meal be set by the pond.

The large round table was filled with delicacies, and behind it, the silk screen and hanging willow trees formed a perfect backdrop. Under the moonlight, the shimmering pond reflected the bright, full moon, creating a beautiful scene.

This year's Mid-Autumn Festival was celebrated by Zhao Chu and Fang Linyuan’s family of four.

Recently, Song Zhaojin had regained her health and was in a good mood. She looked much better than before.

Changnian had started attending the Taixue (NT: Imperial Academy) two months ago. Perhaps he had inherited his father’s remarkable memory, as now he could recite the "Book of Songs" and "Mencius" in full (NT: two significant classical texts of Confucianism). During the meal, he even recited two beautiful poems about reunion, which made Fang Linyuan laugh heartily.

"Changnian has really grown up," he said. "If it were me at his age, memorizing just two poems like that would probably have earned me three beatings."

Song Zhaojin, sitting beside him, covered her mouth with a handkerchief, laughing nonstop.

"Second Brother, you’re still boasting," she said. "Your brother also told me that you were always clever as a child, but mischievous, and couldn’t sit still while studying."

Fang Linyuan laughed and nodded repeatedly, then turned to Changnian and said, "Changnian, don’t follow your uncle’s example."

The whole family laughed together, and even Zhao Chu, who was sitting next to them, turned his eyes toward Fang Linyuan, his brows and eyes filled with a faint smile.

After the laughter subsided, Song Zhaojin turned to Fang Linyuan and said, "Second Brother is still so childlike. If you become a father in the future, you can’t act like this anymore."

At these words, there was a brief pause around the table.

Fang Linyuan almost immediately turned his head to look at Zhao Chu.

Zhao Chu was also looking at him.

They both understood the meaning behind this exchange.

As a pair of "pretend" husband and wife, where would they get a child?

The expected awkwardness did not appear. On the contrary, at the moment their eyes met, Fang Linyuan unexpectedly thought of something else.

Zhao Chu was here today because of his unfinished ambitions. When that day arrived, it would be the day they would part ways.

He and Zhao Chu were not truly married. In the future, they would likely become distant, official subject and ruler.

As they spent more time together, he had forgotten this.

Realizing this, the smile that had been on Fang Linyuan's lips gradually faded.

He was unaware that Zhao Pu had always carried a deep, unspoken sensitivity when it came to the topic of "husband and wife having children."

Every time the subject arose, he was painfully reminded of his own inability—an inadequacy that left his position as Madam Hou precarious.

Any woman could take his place, and she would likely fulfill the role far better than he ever could.

Under the full moon, Fang Linyuan watched as the light in Zhao Pu's eyes gradually dimmed. Behind him, the golden-lit ground shimmered, the high-hanging moon casting its glow, and the brilliance of the lanterns remained unchanged—yet an unmistakable stillness settled over the moment.

Fang Linyuan’s hand, resting on his lap, tensed ever so slightly.

What was he thinking? On such a day of reunion, why was he thinking about separation? In Zhao Chu’s eyes, this must have reminded him of painful memories.

Father and son were at odds; the imperial family was no longer a home. Right now, he was able to share warmth in his own house, yet why was he thinking about making Zhao Chu leave?

Fang Linyuan felt that this was utterly wrong.

As if trying to make up for it, he lifted his hand and placed it on Zhao Chu’s wrist. Then, turning his head, he smiled at Song Zhaojin and said, "Whether we become parents or not doesn’t matter. We can talk about it later. Our family is already good enough as it is."

Hearing this, Song Zhaojin also smiled and nodded.

"Yes," she said. "This is the best way it is now."

The atmosphere gradually relaxed, and Fang Linyuan breathed a sigh of relief.

He turned back to look at Zhao Chu.

Zhao Chu still wasn’t smiling. His dark eyes turned toward him, fixing their gaze on him.

Whether there was a continuation of bloodline or not—did that truly not matter? He was reflecting on what Fang Linyuan had just said.

The full moon tonight was so bright, and the surrounding lanterns were lively. They provided just enough cover for the deep, wavering emotions in Zhao Chu’s eyes.

Like a ghost fallen into a beautiful dream of love, hiding its claws, covering its eerie aura, and carrying a heart full of yearning thoughts, it wanted to forever play the role of a gentle, virtuous wife.

But how could a fox spirit do that?

He remained awake, yet willingly sank into it.

*

Fang Linyuan never expected that just a few days after Mid-Autumn, he would receive a decree from the palace.

The Emperor appointed him as an imperial envoy, along with an official of the ministry of Justice, Heng Feizhang, to jointly inspect and investigate the case of the grain and supplies shortage in the stationed military at Yan Province.

Fang Linyuan was extremely surprised but immediately remembered what Zhao Chu had said that day when they parted at the palace gates.

"Just do as I say," Zhao Chu had told him. "He will personally issue the decree and have you take charge of the Yan Province case."

Could it really have been Zhao Chu’s doing? He was so powerful that, without even meeting him, he could influence the Emperor’s decision!

Fang Linyuan was so shocked that, as soon as he received the decree, he went straight to Huaiyu Pavilion to find Zhao Chu.

When he arrived at Huaiyu Pavilion, Zhao Chu, with his wide sleeves tied with silk ribbons, was trimming branches in the courtyard.

Mid-Autumn had already passed, and the begonia flowers in the courtyard had mostly withered, but the few osmanthus trees at the front were blooming joyfully.

Several maidservants were chatting and laughing by the side, seeming to be collecting the osmanthus flowers, talking about how the royal cook always made excellent osmanthus cakes.

When they saw Fang Linyuan arrive, the maidservants turned to greet him, laughing and saying that he had arrived at just the right time, as the royal cook was in the kitchen making sugar-preserved osmanthus flowers.

"Alright, now that the flowers are collected, take them to the kitchen," said Juan Su, calmly turning around and speaking to the maidservants.

The maidservants smiled and responded, pushing and shoving as they carried the flower baskets toward the kitchen.

Juan Su also saluted Fang Linyuan, then quietly withdrew.

In no time, under the falling flowers of the osmanthus tree, only Fang Linyuan and Zhao Chu remained.

"Have you received the decree?" Zhao Chu, holding a silver scissors with one hand, turned his head to ask.

"Yes, I will be ready to set off in two days," Fang Linyuan nodded and said. "Was this your plan?"

Zhao Chu slightly nodded, placed the scissors aside, and said, "The person accompanying you, Heng Feizhang, is one of my subordinates. You can trust him completely, there’s no need to be on guard."

Fang Linyuan had no doubts, and immediately responded, "Alright."

Thinking about the case he was to investigate in the north, which might take a long time, Fang Linyuan couldn’t help but ask, "And what about you?"

He didn’t even know why he asked that question. Once it was out, he felt a little embarrassed and scratched his head.

But Zhao Chu looked natural, removing the silk ribbons and lowering his wide sleeves as he answered, "I have other arrangements."

"Oh..." Fang Linyuan replied.

Actually, he already knew without asking.

An imperial envoy travels but isn’t part of an army, so the journey would take time. His departure could likely be for over a month.

Even if Zhao Chu wanted to go, he would be too busy. Moreover, since he had already sent someone in his stead, there was no need for him to go.

Fang Linyuan thought this, but for some reason, the reluctance to leave suddenly crept up on him at this moment.

"Then just take care of your arrangements," he forced that feeling down and said to Zhao Chu. "You don’t need to worry about the military in Yan Province."

Zhao Chu slightly nodded and asked him, "The sugar-preserved osmanthus will be ready today. Do you want to eat osmanthus pastry or osmanthus dumplings?"

Both sounded delicious.

But the thought of leaving had come so suddenly. Thinking about how he would be leaving in a couple of days, Fang Linyuan found that he didn’t have much of an appetite upon hearing about the osmanthus desserts.

Instead, for some reason, the fragrance of osmanthus flowers, which Zhao Chu often used, lingered vaguely in his mind.

*

The next morning, the imperial envoy’s procession, bathed in the warm orange light of the autumn sunrise, set out along the official road heading north.

This time, the procession was quite lively. In addition to the officials, attendants, and guards, there was also a group of merchants driving chariots.

It was said that the Yan Province Merchant Association, along with several prominent merchants from the capital, had donated disaster relief grain and supplies, and they were accompanying the imperial envoys on the journey.

Fang Linyuan didn’t pay much attention to this.

The procession was moving too slowly, so he didn’t ride a horse. Instead, as soon as he left the gates, he climbed into his carriage. The carriage swayed gently, and since it was still early, he quickly fell asleep.

When he woke up, he heard the sound of rapid knocking on the carriage.

"Lord Marquis, Lord Marquis!"

Fang Linyuan woke groggily to find a servant from the Anping Marquis' residence standing outside the carriage.

The servant was holding a letter in his hands, riding alongside the carriage and saying, "The Princess is ill. The Lady has sent me to deliver the message to the General, asking you to hurry back to the capital as soon as you finish your business."

"What?" Fang Linyuan furrowed his brows and quickly drew open the curtain.

"She was found this morning, and the physician was called. They say it’s smallpox. This disease is highly contagious. Right now, Huaiyu Pavilion is completely sealed, with only the Fifth Princess’s servants from the palace attending to her. We don’t know the details..."

So serious!

Fang Linyuan was startled by the news, and immediately reached out to take the letter from the servant.

At that moment, as he made the motion, he turned his body slightly and caught a glimpse of the merchant group following the procession.

He paused for a moment, then turned his head, looking toward the golden light that had briefly flashed in his peripheral vision.

He saw a man dressed in white, with a golden ancient demon mask on. The person, wearing the mask, was just about to peek out of the carriage window and speak to a young servant.

Seemingly sensing Fang Linyuan’s gaze, the man raised his head and looked directly at him.

Their eyes met, and the man slightly raised his lips, offering a polite and refined smile.

Who else could it be!

Right in front of Fang Linyuan was the head of the merchant group escorting the supplies—the famous and wealthy merchant from the Chu family, Zhu Yan.

 

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The author has something to say:
Enthusiastic Merchant Boss, Zhu: Hey!

Translator : DarNan