“Miss—we’ve arrived.”
Trudging along in a daze behind the man before her, Lin Lin soon found herself before a dilapidated, overgrown palace building. Weeds sprawled across the courtyard, completely untended.
“The deposed Crown Prince should be inside. This servant will not enter.”
Zong Shan spoke tactfully—after all, he served the current Crown Prince, and he suspected the former Crown Prince would have no desire to see him. He stopped respectfully at the arched gate, his face beaming as he exchanged pleasantries with Lin Lin.
“Once you’re settled here, if you face any difficulties or feel unaccustomed to anything, please don’t hesitate to tell me. I’ll help you prepare whatever you need. I usually wait in the Eastern Palace—if you wish to see His Highness, I can help arrange it.”
This woman was clearly dear to the Crown Prince’s heart. Even if she had to leave the Eastern Palace for now, she must not be neglected. Though he could not claim to have met everyone in the palace, serving the Crown Prince had taught him to read people well—and he could clearly see how special she was to His Highness.
Besides, things in the palace could change in an instant. Today’s outcast might be tomorrow’s noble. It never hurt to keep good relations with others. By befriending her now in her time of need, he hoped she would remember his kindness if her fortunes improved one day—helping his own path to advancement go more smoothly.
Even if she never rose to power, making an extra friend would do no harm. They had known each other for several days now, and he found Lin Lin to be genuinely pleasant—nothing like the crafty, scheming courtiers in the palace, who were so seasoned they seemed almost inhuman and drained his energy to serve!
Even on her own merits, he was happy to befriend her—it was rewarding both practically and emotionally.
He truly did like Lin Lin: simple, pure, kind, and lovely to look at. Though she was a bit delicate and prone to tears, she had a gentle charm that was easy to care for. No wonder the Crown Prince had grown fond of her.
“Mm-hmm—I understand. Thank you!”
Lin Lin nodded earnestly, her eyes still red from crying.
She knew the Eastern Palace was vast and crowded; barging in to see Xiao Fusu would be inappropriate and might cause him trouble. Having someone like Zong Shan—who served closely by His Highness’s side—to act as a go-between was truly helpful.
Though she wondered if Xiao Fusu would forget her someday, or if he would even want to see her again.
The thought filled her with sorrow and resentment at being cast aside, but more than that, she felt deep longing and reluctance to part with him. Her heart was heavy with melancholy and loss.
“Take heart! Take heart! What’s done is done—you must make the best of it.”
Seeing her dejected state, Zong Shan offered words of comfort.
Unlike her somber mood, he was quite pleased to have this chance to speak with her alone.
If he were not a eunuch, and if they were of similar age, he might even have developed feelings for her that were not proper.
But knowing full well he was a eunuch—“incomplete” as some would say—he had long since let go of such impossible fantasies.
Everyone’s fate was different. He was a man born to hardship; his life was meant to be devoted to his master alone, with no place for matters of love or romance.
Such thoughts should have saddened him, yet speaking with Lin Lin now only lifted his spirits.
His mood improved, he found himself chattering away like an old friend, unable to hide his concern. “Life here in the Cold Palace won’t be as comfortable as it was in the Eastern Palace—you’ll surely find it unfamiliar, quiet, and plain. But even so, you must stay strong! If you face any troubles, come to me without hesitation. Setting aside the palace’s complicated rules and ranks, I already think of you as a friend—I only hope you won’t think me presumptuous for considering myself your equal, being just a eunuch.”
“Not at all! Here I am, down on my luck, yet you not only don’t mind the trouble but take such care of me—thank you so much! I may be insignificant, but I’ll never forget this kindness. If I ever have the chance, I’ll repay you for your goodwill!”
She looked at him with heartfelt gratitude—unaware that her words would prove prophetic in time.
A light breeze brushed her cheeks, carrying the fresh, damp scent of grass. It was then that Zong Shan realized he had lingered too long.
Really… whenever he was with her, he could not help but talk more than usual.
What was wrong with him?
Shaking off the self-mocking thought, he looked up at her and smiled gently. “It’s getting late—I should go now. Take care of yourself.”
“Okay.”
Lin Lin nodded in return, her eyes filled with gratitude as she watched him.
“Farewell.”
Zong Shan said no more. With one last smile, he turned and left.
Once he was gone, Lin Lin could no longer stand steady. She reached out to lean against the palace wall beside her, barely keeping from collapsing as her legs weakened.
She was still ill—she had only just finished a bowl of medicine before being sent away by Xiao Fusu. Though it was not yet winter, the wind on her skin made her feel even worse.
In the hall earlier, she had been too heartbroken to notice how unwell she was. Now, as she calmed down, the weakness washed over her fully. Her heart beat heavy and slow in her chest—thump, thump, thump—as if it might burst out at any moment.
This was bad… she had never let herself fall into such a sorry state before.
An expression that looked almost like tears crossed her face.
No… it was a wry smile.
But it was a smile more miserable than any cry.
This was not her own assessment—it came suddenly from the system that had reappeared.
“Hey hey— I was only offline for one day, and you’ve managed to make yourself look like this. That smile really is worse than crying.”
The blasted system materialized out of nowhere before her, eyeing her pitiful, disheveled state with absolute certainty.
“I may be down, but I’m not out.”
Lin Lin shot it a glare. She felt wretched enough already and had no desire to speak to it.
It had vanished when she needed it most, only to reappear now that she had already suffered through everything.
Where had it been when she needed help?
“In the end, I was left to handle everything on my own.”
She complained with a sniff, tears of frustration welling in her eyes.
“Tsk tsk—it seems this world really can’t get by without me. One wrong step from you, and your life would be over.”
After all, this host did not seem to have the sharpest mind. It would have to pay close attention and help her out if they were to complete their mission.
The system looked at her, its gaze brimming with self-satisfaction.