Gan Cai’er lifted her head and took one last look at the deep mansion with its blue bricks and green tiles, then dragged her feet, step by step, away.
After leaving the Weiguo Duke’s Mansion, Gan Cai’er did not return to the southern part of the city along the same road but instead headed east.
By now, the heavy snow had stopped, but the sky remained a dull gray. Dark clouds loomed in the distance, as if brewing an even greater storm.
From the west to the east of the city, Gan Cai’er walked even more slowly, breathing more heavily. With each inhale and exhale, it felt as if shards of ice were cutting her throat.
For a moment, she felt as though she would never reach her destination.
But driven by sheer determination, by evening, Gan Cai’er finally dragged herself, step by weary step, to the residence of Hanlin Daxueshi and the current Taifu, Lan Tingzhou.
She turned to the northeast corner of Lan Fu and knocked on the side gate.
With a creak, the door opened, revealing a weathered face.
“Madam, you’ve come.”
“Zhang Bo, please don’t call me that anymore. I haven’t been the madam here for a long time.” Gan Cai’er nervously pinched the hem of her clothes, standing there awkwardly.
The old servant of the Lan family’s address of “Madam” filled her with shame. Back then, it was she who had betrayed Lan Tingzhou, making him the biggest laughingstock in all of Jingdu, humiliating him and nearly ruining his career. She had no face to return to Lan Fu, but…
“Madam, are you here to see the young miss?”
Gan Cai’er nodded.
“The young miss is building snowmen in Xiao Huayuan. She said she wanted to fill the entire garden with snowmen, so she probably hasn’t left yet.”
“Thank you, Zhang Bo.”
After expressing her gratitude, Gan Cai’er made her way into the mansion, familiar with every turn.
Lan Fu was not large, and before long, Gan Cai’er spotted a small figure in the garden. Dressed in a red brocade robe trimmed with fur, the child was joyfully hopping around the garden, full of energy. Several maids hurriedly followed behind, careful to keep her from falling.
The girl with the smiling, crescent-shaped eyes was none other than Gan Cai’er’s daughter, Meng Fu.
Hiding behind the rockery, Gan Cai’er watched Meng Fu with an almost greedy gaze—watching her scoop snow with a small shovel, build snowmen, have snowball fights with the maids, and pout playfully when she lost…
The more she watched, the more she adored her, and the harder it became to let go.
Until a gentle, melodious voice rang out.
“Fu’er, you’ve been playing in the snow all afternoon. It’s time to rest.”
Following the voice, a young woman slowly entered the garden.
Clad in a White Fox Fur Cloak, she appeared both dignified and elegant. Behind her followed a matron and two maids, their demeanor humble and respectful, clearly well-trained in etiquette.
Seeing the newcomer, Meng Fu dropped her small shovel and happily rushed over, whining in a childish, cooing voice, “Mother Let me play a little longer”
The woman crouched down, took out a handkerchief, and gently wiped the sweat from Meng Fu’s forehead. Softly, she said, “You’ve played for too long today. Be careful not to catch a cold. If you haven’t had enough fun, you can come back tomorrow.”
“Oh” Meng Fu, though reluctant, obediently nodded.
Watching this scene, Gan Cai’er felt a mix of bitterness and envy. Someone like Shen Yun was the epitome of a true noble lady—her innate grace, elegance, and composure were qualities Gan Cai’er could never emulate, not even in a hundred lifetimes.
For Fu’er to be raised by her was undoubtedly for the best, far better than being with her own disgraced self.
Gan Cai’er wiped away her tears, suppressing the reluctance in her heart, and turned to walk toward the side gate. Before leaving, she took out a brand-new pouch and handed it to Zhang Bo.
“Zhang Bo, please find an opportunity to give this pouch to Fu’er. Just don’t tell her who gave it. And…”
“This old servant understands. No one will ever know that Madam came here,” Zhang Bo knowingly interjected.
Gan Cai’er looked at Zhang Bo with gratitude. Being able to secretly see her daughter relied entirely on this former old servant facilitating her visit and covering for her.
She then took something else from her bosom and handed it to Zhang Bo—a pair of cotton kneepads.
“My needlework is poor, and the stitches are unsightly, but at least these kneepads are sturdy and warm. I hope you won’t mind them, old sir.”
“This… this… how could I possibly accept such a thing”
Before Zhang Bo could refuse, Gan Cai’er stuffed the kneepads into his arms, then turned and walked out of the side gate.
The sky had already darkened—not the darkness of approaching night, but the oppressive gloom of gathering storm clouds.
After leaving Lan Fu, Gan Cai’er stood at the street corner, gazing at the lamplight shining from every household and listening to the lively laughter from each home. Suddenly, she found herself unsure of where to go.
Today was New Year’s Eve, a day for family reunions. But where was her home?
It seemed as though there was no place in the world that truly belonged to her, nor was there a home waiting for her return.
Lonely and weary, Gan Cai’er made her way toward the southern part of the city.
Not long after Gan Cai’er left through the side gate, a tall figure approached Zhang Bo.
“Has she left?”
“Reporting to you, sir, Madam left after seeing the young miss.”
“Hmm.”
Lan Tingzhou responded indifferently but remained standing without moving.
Zhang Bo glanced at him curiously, noticing that his gaze was fixed on his hands. Looking down, Zhang Bo saw he was holding a pouch and a pair of kneepads.
So, he raised the two items toward his master and said with a cheerful smile, “The pouch is from Madam for the young miss, and the kneepads are for this old servant to keep warm—Madam truly has a kind heart.”
“Hmph, such crude craftsmanship, and she dares to give them as gifts,” Lan Tingzhou said coldly.
With that, he untied the jade pendant from his waist and handed it to Zhang Bo.
“Take this jade pendant to Fu’er. As for the kneepads, go to the accounts office and withdraw some silver to buy yourself a proper pair.”
Then, Zhang Bo watched helplessly as his master took away the young miss’s pouch and his own kneepads.
Clutching the jade pendant, Zhang Bo wore an expression of speechlessness.
“The weather is cold this year. Have more silver charcoal and cotton clothes sent over.”
From afar came Lan Tingzhou’s cool voice.
Meanwhile, as Gan Cai’er neared the southern part of the city, a deafening “Boom!” echoed through the sky as thunder suddenly cracked!
Startled, Gan Cai’er fell to the ground, a sharp pain shooting through her ankle, leaving her unable to move an inch.
As the thunder roared, the sky seemed to tear open, and fierce winds carrying snowflakes violently swept across the entire Jingdu. In an instant, snow filled the sky, howling winds raged, and layers of snow swirled…
The blizzard had arrived.
Battling the fierce wind and snow that whipped against her face, Gan Cai’er struggled to move forward with great difficulty. But before long, she was frozen numb, unable to muster any strength.
She collapsed in the snow, barely opening her eyes to gaze at the dark, heavy sky, lost in a daze, silent and still. Slowly, her hands and feet grew cold, and the light faded from her eyes.
As her last shred of consciousness faded, Gan Cai’er thought that dying here meant she wouldn’t even have a grave—not even a neglected one would be too much to ask.
Looking back on her life, it was truly laughable, pitiful, a failure, and absurd.
Meanwhile, in the imperial palace, amid the lively and warm revelry of song and dance, an urgent report arrived, bringing news that shook the entire Jingdu: Duke Weiguo, who had fallen in battle and been buried for four years, had risen from the dead!
“Summon him! Quickly!” the Jing He Emperor exclaimed excitedly.
At the same moment, Gan Cai’er breathed her last.
A fierce wind swept through, and the blizzard buried her completely.
All that remained was a vast expanse of white, pure and clean.
Gan Cai’er died on the thirtieth day of the twelfth lunar month in the Jinghe Twentieth Year.
On this same day, Meng Yu finally completed his mission of feigning death to lure the enemy and returned to life.