Chapter 1

(1/3)

Pei Yun thought, she was probably about to die.

When truly confronted with this moment, her heart was calm and unruffled, not even a trace of struggle within her. She allowed her body to sink quietly toward the pitch-black depths of the lake.

The water around her isolated her from the clamor above; with the sudden collapse of the curved bridge, the imperial garden above must now be thrown into chaos.

Through the lake water, Pei Yun looked up. The blazing sun, once scorching in the sky, had faded to a cold, pale glimmer among the rippling waves, much like the indifferent and hollow look in her eyes at this very moment.

Even as she saw her husband swimming toward another woman, her lips merely pressed into a faint, mocking smile.

No sadness, no pain, no regret...

She simply found it all dull.

She knew very well, it was not that she was about to die, but that she wanted to die.

She was simply too tired.

This was not a sudden impulse, though Pei Yun could not say precisely when the thought had first arisen.

Perhaps it was two days ago, when she suddenly realized her only son—the highly praised Crown Prince’s eldest grandson—was now thoroughly estranged from his own mother.

Or perhaps it was when she happened to overhear palace gossip, how the sixth Miss Shen, who had recently returned to the capital, had grown into a graceful beauty, her features strikingly reminiscent of her long-deceased elder sister. At the spring banquet hosted at the Shen residence, she had even caused the Crown Prince to lose his composure.

With the emperor gravely ill, once the Crown Prince ascended, the position of Empress was unlikely to fall to her, the Crown Princess.

Or perhaps it was simply this morning, when she discovered a strand of white hair at her temples while dressing.

Only then did she realize that it had been thirteen years since she married into the Eastern Palace.

She was only twenty-nine, yet had aged before her time.

Over those thirteen years, she had labored and schemed step by step, learning how to manage palace affairs, supervise the servants, progressing from confusion and ignorance to a point where everything was handled with perfect propriety, beyond reproach. She had clearly become the Crown Princess she aspired to be, the one praised by all. Yet, looking back suddenly, she found she had nothing at all.

Her parents were gone, her siblings all dead, and as for her two children...

Rescuers from the palace were already swimming toward her, but she no longer cared for life.

Pei Yun slowly closed her eyes and let her mind grow hazy.

It was said that before death, one’s life flashes before their eyes. She was no exception.

She seemed to feel the wind whistling past her ears as she galloped through the forests of Wunan Mountain, heard her father’s hearty laughter as he called her by her childhood nickname, then saw her brother returning from his travels, lovingly ruffling her hair and handing her and her sisters little cakes. In a fleeting vision, her younger sister, still a child, hugged her waist and called softly for her big sister, while their mother stood nearby, smiling gently...

Those faded memories gradually sharpened, and Pei Yun finally remembered that under the protection of her father and brother, she too had once lived freely and joyfully.

But all of it ended in a single moment.

Perhaps it was when her father died on the battlefield, or perhaps when the imperial edict arrived, bestowing upon her the title of Crown Princess.

(2/3)

The Crown Prince, Li Changye, had long been betrothed since the age of seventeen to his cousin, the beloved niece of the late Empress Xiaoren.

The two grew up together, perfectly matched and admired by all in the capital. Yet fate is ever unpredictable; the legitimate second daughter of the Shen family died suddenly at sixteen, and the emperor was left to select another wife for the Crown Prince.

Many noble girls in the capital were considered suitable, but no one expected such immense fortune to fall, without warning, upon the distant Pei family.

For Pei Yun, it was less a joy than a bewilderment. Her future seemed shrouded in mist, the road ahead uncertain, and she had indeed stumbled painfully along it for more than a decade.

If given another chance, if she could choose, she would never have entered the Eastern Palace.

Even as the suffocating sensation of drowning crept over her, Pei Yun still managed a smile—one of calm relief, a lightness she had not felt in years.

At last, it was all about to end...

Yet in the midst of this confusion, the sense of impending death quietly faded. The chill of the water encasing her body was replaced by a gentle warmth. Pei Yun felt an itch in her throat and coughed softly. The next moment, a pair of large hands supported her slender back and neck, lifting her up. The cool rim of a cup touched her lips; she swallowed instinctively, warm water soothing her parched throat.

Realizing something was wrong, she slowly opened her eyes. When she saw the man before her, her brows knit together.

Her first reaction was disappointment—had she failed to die after all?

The man giving her water was strikingly handsome, with a noble bearing and a perpetual air of cool detachment. Who could he be but her husband, the Crown Prince Li Changye?

A wave of deep-seated resentment welled up in her chest, yet Pei Yun soon sensed something was amiss. This face seemed younger than she remembered.

Li Changye, seeing his wife gaze at him, frowned slightly, suspicion flashing in his eyes.

He had not sent word ahead when coming to Linlang Hall this time, and had roused Lady Pei from her rest. Yet, knowing his Crown Princess, even if she were ill, she would ignore her own health and rise to greet him with perfect decorum.

She had always been so impeccable in etiquette.

But now, she only stared at him in silence, the usual gentle smile gone, her brows drawn tight, her expression tinged with strangeness.

Li Changye did not dwell on it, assuming she was simply dazed from sleep. He had heard she suffered greatly in childbirth this time, laboring a full day and night, and still needed to rest even ten days after their son’s birth.

He had missed being at her side during both of her pregnancies. This time, the journey from Qinxian was long; by the time he returned, their child had already been born three days.

Li Changye felt a pang of guilt toward Pei Yun. After a moment’s thought, he spoke first: “The dam in Qinxian is soon to be completed. That region in Yu Prefecture suffers floods nearly every year, and the people are destitute. This is a matter concerning the livelihood of an entire province—a great work for the people. I must go, and may have to depart today...”

As Pei Yun listened to these all-too-familiar words, a sudden realization struck her.

The dam at Qinxian?

She remembered clearly: that was in the twenty-third year of Qingzhen, the very year when she and Li Changye’s second son, Li Chen, was born.

At the thought of her younger son, Pei Yun felt a dull ache in her chest. Looking again at the man before her, she seemed to understand something.

Perhaps Heaven, knowing the grievances in her heart, had given her this final chance for release at the moment of her death.

(3/3)

No matter how others saw him—upright, noble, a peerless gentleman—Pei Yun, in her lifetime, had grown thoroughly weary of her husband.

She had many complaints against him, but perhaps the greatest grievance was from this very day six years ago, when he came suddenly to Linlang Hall to tell her he was leaving again.

The Crown Prince was often busy with affairs of state, frequently dispatched by the emperor to inspect conditions throughout the realm. Since Pei Yun entered the Eastern Palace, she had long grown used to his frequent absences.

She was not surprised by his departure, but this time, she could not silently swallow her pain. When she gave birth to Chen’er, her suffering was a hundredfold greater than with Jin’er; the child was in the wrong position, and she endured excruciating pain as the midwives tried to turn him, then suffered hemorrhaging after birth, bleeding so much she nearly died.

In her moment of life and death, he was not there. When he finally returned, he merely held her hand and murmured a few words of comfort, stayed a couple of days, then quickly left again.

Pei Yun knew he was sincere about the people’s welfare; his words were not just a noble excuse. But the implication was always that she ought to be virtuous and magnanimous, that if she could not accept his leaving, she was petty and unfit to be the wife of the heir apparent.

She understood the reasoning: for the sake of the people, one woman’s sacrifice was trivial, and she was not so small-minded as to begrudge it. But after so many times, she could not be expected to bear it without complaint.

She also resented how he always placed her on a pedestal with such words, leaving her no room for refusal.

She often felt that upon entering the Eastern Palace, she had been trapped in a cage called “propriety,” bound so tightly she could not break free.

Li Changye saw her lips press together in silence, no longer responding with the usual words of understanding. He guessed she must be displeased.

But that was to be expected.

So he softened his tone, continuing as he had planned: “I hear that Qinxian produces a special kind of brocade—brilliant and beautiful, perfect for clothing. When I return, I’ll bring you a few bolts. Would you like that?”

The words were exactly the same as those from before.

If the earlier speech left Pei Yun with no grounds to argue, this one instantly awakened a grievance buried deep for years.

She suddenly sat upright, eyes fixed on the man before her, and her laugh, cold and faint, echoed clearly through the quiet inner chamber.

“Is Your Highness truly offering me a gift, or merely trying to brush me off and ease your own guilt?”

The words, spoken so suddenly, drew startled gasps from within the hall. Chang Lu, the attendant at the Crown Prince’s side, stared wide-eyed, hardly able to believe such words could come from the ever-proper Crown Princess.

He stared fearfully at his master, who sat rigid as a pine at the bedside.

Chang Lu could not see, but Pei Yun, meeting Li Changye’s eyes, saw his expression with perfect clarity.

His thin lips pressed into a line, his eyes narrowed, their blade-like gleam probing her intently.

In the past, such a look from him would have made Pei Yun all the more cautious, treading carefully for fear of angering him.

But this time, perhaps emboldened by the thought that this was a singular chance granted to her before death, she did not shrink back. Instead, she lifted her chin slightly, her tone tinged with open mockery.

“Do you think a wife is nothing more than an ornament—merely there to grant you face, to manage everything in perfect order, and that nothing else matters? Even those so-called gifts are simply orders passed down to servants. Why go through the motions of asking me yourself?”