The next day, evening.
A few days before the Empress Dowager’s birthday was Consort Rong’s birthday. Though it couldn’t compare with the Empress Dowager’s celebration, a family banquet was still arranged in Yu Tang Hall.
The hall was already bustling with activity. Among the palace’s four consorts, everyone had arrived except for Consort Xie, Xie Zhaozhi, who oversaw the imperial harem.
Xie Zhaozhi didn’t arrive until nightfall. The moment she entered the hall, Consort Rong’s expression involuntarily darkened.
“Sister Xie actually came! My humble Yu Tang Hall is truly honored,” Consort Rong said, though she had instantly replaced her displeasure with a warm smile.
Xie Zhaozhi also curved her lips upward, stepping forward to support Consort Rong and prevent her from bowing. “Today is your birthday, sister. There’s no need for such formalities.”
Consort Rong cheerfully invited Xie Zhaozhi to sit nearby. Three seats were arranged at the head—the central one naturally belonged to the Emperor. As Xie Zhaozhi held the highest rank and couldn’t be seated below, the palace attendants had placed one seat on each side of the Yu Zuo.
An opera stage had been set up in Yu Tang Hall’s courtyard, where performers were already singing. Palace attendants presented the opera selection booklet, inviting their mistresses to choose scenes.
Xie Zhaozhi declined politely, “Sister should choose first. How could I possibly overshadow the host today?”
“I’ve already selected two scenes. Please choose one as well, sister.”
Unable to refuse further, Xie Zhaozhi scanned the booklet, her smile widening. “Then let’s have ‘The Lady of the Xiang River.'”
Consort Rong’s smile froze on her face.
“The Lady of the Xiang River” told the story of the ancient sisters Ehuang and Nüying serving the same husband.
Taking a deep breath to maintain her composure, Consort Rong heard Xie Zhaozhi continue, “I heard your cousin has entered the palace, sister. Why haven’t I seen her?”
“She’s quite timid, afraid she might offend you, sister.”
“That’s no trouble.” Xie Zhaozhi’s smile deepened. “After all, we’ll have to meet eventually.”
The implied meaning made Consort Rong’s eye twitch. She had to dig her nails tightly into her palm to remain calm.
She shot Granny Qu a meaningful glance, and Granny Qu immediately sent someone to inquire when Yan Pingxiao would arrive.
Noble Consort Cheng sat below, eating pastries while overhearing the veiled conflict between the two women above.
She clicked her tongue softly. Why all the indirect hostility?
They’ve been competing for so many years, yet neither has gained more of His Majesty’s attention.
Shaking her head, she glanced at Consort Song beside her, who was busy gnawing on pork knuckle.
Noble Consort Cheng sighed and turned her attention back to the opera performance.
Nan Shu knew Yan Pingxiao would likely visit Yu Tang Hall that night and naturally didn’t dare stay there. Using the excuse that her facial rash hadn’t healed, she went to Chang Yuan Lake.
Chang Yuan Lake bordered the imperial garden. At dusk, the lakeside was very tranquil. With everyone gathered at Yu Tang Hall today, she was sure no one would come here.
“Wouldn’t you like to go see, miss?”
Nan Shu shook her head. “Today is her ladyship’s special day. I shouldn’t intrude on the festivities.”
She sat in the pavilion, enjoying the lakeside scenery.
In spring, the imperial garden should have been blooming with various flowers, but wherever Nan Shu looked, she saw only vast stretches of pale crabapple blossoms.
Qing Zhu followed her gaze and murmured, “They say the late Empress particularly loved crabapple flowers, so they’re planted in many places throughout the palace.”
Nan Shu withdrew her gaze, lowering her eyes to stare at her toes. Her voice was very soft, “People always do these belated things, proclaiming how devoted they are.”
Qing Zhu blinked, not quite catching what she said.
A gentle breeze quietly arrived, blowing Nan Shu’s loosely tied veil into the lake.
Nan Shu instinctively reached for it but was stopped by Qing Zhu.
“Miss, has your face healed?” Qing Zhu looked left and right, speaking excitedly.
Nan Shu touched her cheek. Having grown accustomed to wearing the veil recently, she hadn’t applied rouge to create rashes on her face: “Some parts haven’t fully healed yet. I’ve covered them with powder.”
Qing Zhu nodded as if suddenly understanding.
Without her veil, Nan Shu felt uncomfortable and insecure.
She stood up, glanced at the veil floating away on the lake, and was about to ask Qing Zhu to fetch another one when she turned and saw a man standing in the distance.
He stood beneath a canopy of crabapple trees, their falling petals covering his broad shoulders and his black dragon robe.
The distant flower branches blurred her vision.
As the man gradually approached, pushing aside the branches, the face that had haunted his dreams suddenly appeared before his deep, dark eyes.
Yan Pingxiao was completely frozen.
Time seemed to stand still at that moment, with only his chaotic heartbeat echoing in his ears.
The Imperial Carriage had arrived at Chang Yuan Lake. Seeing the crabapple blossoms floating along the lakeshore, Yan Pingxiao remembered how the woman had loved crabapples in the past, so he stopped the carriage to approach.
Tang Shunfu behind him also clearly saw the woman’s face. His pupils instantly contracted violently, and he fell to the ground:
“A ghost… a ghost…”
Who could tell him why this person looked so similar to Miss Shen?!
Nan Shu was startled by the sudden appearance of the person. Then, as the imperial yellow color symbolizing his status reflected in her eyes, both she and Qing Zhu instantly understood who had arrived.
Before she could withdraw her gaze, their eyes met in an instant.
Nan Shu’s breath caught, as if she had fallen into an icy abyss.
She dug her fingernails deeply into her palm, supporting herself to maintain composure.
In the man’s eyes, she saw an incomprehensible mix of shock and sorrow.
Qing Zhu beside her quickly tugged at her sleeve. Nan Shu hurriedly lowered her eyes, her slender waist bending in a graceful bow:
“Your humble subject pays respects to Your Majesty.”
The scattered yet heavy footsteps were particularly clear in the quiet lakeside. Nan Shu felt her chest constrict, her breathing instinctively tightening.
Yan Pingxiao stood before her. The woman wore a goose-yellow brocade skirt, the breeze catching a strand of her hair that continuously brushed against her cheek, causing her to slightly furrow her delicate eyebrows.
Through the layers of flower branches, across the vast expanse of time, he seemed to see Shen Lan Shu again.
The man’s eyes grew dazed, a sudden sharp pain piercing his heart as his heartbeat and pulse seemed to spiral out of control.
Nan Shu kept her head lowered, not daring to make the slightest sound.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and forced herself to calm down.
She was Nan Shu now, the daughter of Qingzhou’s magistrate Nan Shu. She had a clear and documented background, while Shen Lan Shu had died five years ago.
The man’s gaze remained fixed on Nan Shu, the corners of his eyes turning crimson.
Nan Shu clenched her skirt, her eyes firmly fixed on the bluestone pavement, not daring to look up even slightly. Her long, delicate eyelashes trembled continuously.
Yan Pingxiao suddenly raised his hand and grasped her chin.
Caught off guard, Nan Shu lifted her head and instinctively opened her eyes, meeting the man’s profound dark gaze.
The exact same face, even the evasive look of fear was nearly identical.
Yan Pingxiao suddenly remembered the twenty-ninth year of Yong’an, when he returned from outside the city and found Shen Lan Shu attempting to escape in a dilapidated ox cart. The way she had looked at him then was exactly as it was now.
Timid and flustered.
“You’re back…”
The timely flicker of confusion and bewilderment in Nan Shu’s eyes pierced Yan Pingxiao’s heart.
She didn’t recognize him.
The distant sound of wind whispered in Yan Pingxiao’s ears, his gaze filled with sorrow and uncertainty.
Of course, how could it be her?
Every word in the letter she left behind was a final farewell to him.
Even through reincarnation, she probably wouldn’t want to see him again.
Yan Pingxiao released his hand in despair.
Nan Shu hastily retreated two steps, her knees scraping painfully against the rough stone pavement.
After a moment, a man’s detached voice sounded above her head: “Rise.”
Nan Shu kept her head lowered as she stood up, then quietly shifted two steps closer behind Qing Zhu.
“Tang Shunfu.”
Tang Shunfu trembled as he scrambled up from the ground. Heaven knew how shocked he had been when he saw Nan Shu.
Others might not have seen Shen Lan Shu before, but not only had he seen her—he had even been present when her body was prepared for burial. This scene struck him with no less terror than witnessing a corpse returning to life.
“Y-Y-Your Majesty… what are your orders?”
“Take her to Xuanzheng Hall.” Yan Pingxiao stared intently at Nan Shu, his usually steady voice carrying a barely perceptible tremor.