“I heard the Fourth Prince has come to Jiangnan.”
“The Fourth Prince really has come to Jiangnan. Someone saw him just the other day.”
“It’s already December, almost New Year’s. Why would a noble prince like him come to Jiangnan at this time?”
“You all don’t know about this, do you?” In the depths of winter, amid heavy snow, in a small tavern in Xiwu Town, Jiangnan, a few tables of men huddled together mysteriously, chatting.
“They say it’s for a woman!”
The man took a sip of wine, met the curious gazes of everyone in the room, and swept his murky eyes around. Seeing even the innkeeper at the door put down his ledger to look at him, he laughed loudly and dropped a bombshell.
“The Fourth Prince kept a mistress, and she ran away!”
The room fell silent, followed by a collective sigh of disbelief. No one could believe that a prince of the Forbidden City—a son of the Emperor, a celestial being akin to a deity—could be abandoned.
What woman would ever dare to run away?
Even as a mere mistress, she would be living in a golden nest, enjoying a lifetime of wealth and luxury beyond measure.
How could she possibly run away? And flee so far, all the way to this small town of Wuzhen?
“Don’t you doubt it,” the man insisted, growing agitated as he revealed more. “I saw it with my own eyes. The prince was seated on a tall horse, leading over a dozen squads of cavalry, carrying portraits and searching house by house along the streets.”
“Is this really true?” someone asked, intrigued by the certainty in his tone. “The Fourth Prince seems to be just over twenty, doesn’t he? I’ve heard his household is quiet, and he doesn’t seem like a man driven by lust.”
“Even heroes struggle to resist the allure of beauty,” the man scoffed, tearing off a large piece of meat with his teeth. “Now that the mistress has abandoned the Fourth Prince and run away, hasn’t he still chased her all the way to Jiangnan?”
“Well then…” The innkeeper set down his abacus, voicing the question on everyone’s mind. “What kind of woman could this possibly be?”
As his words faded, the sound of hoofbeats echoed from the entrance.
Everyone turned to look. Three figures stood at the doorway, unnoticed until now.
In the heavy snowfall, the world outside was a vast expanse of white. All eyes were drawn to the person in the center—dressed in a plain pleated skirt, draped in a crimson fox-fur cloak trimmed with white sable fur. Her head was bowed, the hood concealing her face.
Yet the skin visible beneath the hood was even fairer and more delicate than the snow itself.
The entire room stared, mesmerized. It took the innkeeper a long moment to snap out of his daze and step forward to ask, “Are you here for lodging or a meal?”
“Two of your best rooms,” a maid suddenly stepped forward, blocking everyone’s view. It was unclear how long they had been standing at the entrance, but now she glared fiercely at the roomful of people, her expression strange and guarded.
“Oh, right away,” the innkeeper stammered, quickly averting his gaze and personally leading them upstairs.
“Miss, they’re all talking about you.”
As soon as the door closed, Ban Xia turned around. “The Fourth Prince has chased you all the way here, and now everyone knows about it!”
“Yes, it seems the whole world knows now.”
The crimson hood was lowered, and Ye Nanyuan turned around, revealing an exquisitely beautiful face.
Radiant as a lotus, with lips like vermilion and teeth like pearls, her features were gentle and graceful, delicate and touching. Yet, between her brows and eyes, there lingered a subtle, captivating allure.
Like her clear and mellow voice, gentle and soft, it carried the delicate tenderness of a Jiangnan woman.
The rising tone at the end naturally held a hook that could captivate one’s soul.
Even after seeing this face countless times, Ban Xia was still stunned for a long moment. No wonder the Fourth Prince couldn’t forget her young lady, chasing her all the way from the capital to Jiangnan.
But thinking of her young lady’s reluctance, Ban Xia’s face clouded with worry as she fretted: “Will the Fourth Prince catch up?”
Ye Nanyuan walked forward, lifted the window, and glanced outside. The sky was gradually darkening, and the snow was falling heavier and heavier. Under these conditions, the carriage tracks would be completely covered within half an hour.
Her dark eyelashes lowered, and her delicate, soft voice trembled slightly: “I don’t know either.” She was born too beautiful, her brows slightly furrowed, delicate and fragile, pitiable and endearing, evoking a sense of tenderness.
The wind and snow grew fiercer, the north wind howling against the windows with a biting sound.
The carriage tracks in the snow were almost completely obscured.
The lively tavern had quieted down, with only the occasional crackle of charcoal from the brazier. Ban Xia was making pastries in the back kitchen, while the innkeeper propped his head up, drowsy and nodding off.
Suddenly, the sound of hoofbeats thundered at the door, as if a thousand troops and horses were approaching. The innkeeper’s elbow slipped from his chin, and his face slammed onto the table.
“Bang—”
The tavern door was kicked open. Looking up, a man strode in through the heavy snow.
Tall and straight, he exuded an air of nobility. Over his black robe, he wore a dark crane-feather cloak, standing tall at the doorway, the black jade pendant at his waist still swaying.
He must have rushed here in haste, as snow clung to his hair and collar.
“Where are they?” Before the innkeeper could react, the guard beside him swung his blade.
The few tables of patrons who had been drinking and chatting moments ago were now all restrained by the guards, trembling like sieves.
“Wh-who…” The innkeeper’s tongue stumbled, his words trembling: “What people?”
“The ones who just entered your inn—two women and a coachman…” The gleaming blade reflected the innkeeper’s terrified, twitching face: “U-up, upstairs.”
As soon as the words fell, the man in the black robe headed upstairs.
The guard shoved the innkeeper, who stumbled back into his chair. Without even checking if his neck was still intact, he craned his head to watch the retreating figure ascending the stairs.
Could this… could this be the Fourth… Fourth Prince?
The rumors that the Fourth Prince had been jilted and had chased all the way to Jiangnan—could they actually be true??
When the footsteps approached, Ye Nanyuan was practicing calligraphy. Her Wange Calligraphy Style was not yet refined, so she practiced for a while at this hour every day.
The footsteps, swift and steady, came to a halt right outside her door.
The next moment, the door creaked open from the outside.
Thinking it was Ban Xia returning, she didn’t look up, her tone spoiled and petulant: “Back so soon?”
But it wasn’t Ban Xia standing outside the door—it was the Fourth Prince, draped in his cloak.
Imposing and tall, he stood at the doorway like a solid wall.
His slightly darkened expression was hidden in his eyes, unreadable. Beneath his thick lashes, a pair of obscure eyes fixed on the woman before him, his voice deep like water striking stone: “Three months have passed. I suppose it can’t be considered early.”
With a soft “thud,” the brush in Ye Nanyuan’s hand fell onto the table, ink splattering across the paper and ruining half of it.
She lifted her head, looking toward the doorway in disbelief. Only when she caught sight of that familiar face did her complexion instantly turn deathly pale. Subconsciously, she took a step back. “How… how is it you?”
The crabapple gold hairpin at her temple brushed against her cheek, its pearl pendant sliding down her face. She was born with extraordinary beauty—when her brows and eyes curved into a smile, their radiance was captivating enough to hold anyone’s gaze.
Yet at this moment, all color drained from her face. Her willow-like brows furrowed, and her delicate frame trembled with fear.
The joy of having recovered what was lost vanished from his eyes in an instant. With his long, slender fingers, he slammed the door shut and retorted, “Why should it not be me?”
“Don’t come any closer.” Yet Ye Nanyuan, standing before the desk, was utterly terrified. Her face pale as a sheet, she retreated backward. Her beauty was so striking that even trembling in fear, she remained breathtakingly lovely.
But the Fourth Prince seemed deaf to her words. His black boots embroidered with auspicious clouds continued to advance step by step.
Until he pressed her against the wall, trapping her beneath his body.
At such close quarters, his icy aura resembled a beast on the verge of fury. “Why did you run?” he demanded, his fingers pinching her chin and stroking her cheek while his right hand reached out to firmly grip her waist.
She was delicate and soft, her skin smooth and fine, her waist as slender as a willow branch, easily encircled by a single hand. His broad palm clasped her waist, his hand moving up and down as he toyed with her.
A familiar sensation washed over him. The Fourth Prince recalled the intimacies they had shared on the bed in the past and let out a deep sigh.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the fury in his gaze had subsided considerably.
He had thought she was still young, willful—that finding her would be enough.
Yet before he could speak, he was abruptly pushed away. Ye Nanyuan remained in the posture of having shoved him, only after a moment trembling and hurriedly pressing down on the collar of her robe, which had slipped open during the struggle.
She always dressed simply and modestly. Just now, her collar had come undone, revealing a small patch of skin—fairer than ivory, smooth and lustrous like jade, making one wonder if the slightest pressure would leave a mark.
Only he knew how soft and delicate that touch truly was.
Where his fingers brushed, it felt as though fire had been ignited, eliciting tender tremors throughout.
In the end, he could not bear to press further. Lowering his eyelids, he suppressed his anger imperceptibly. “Why did you run?” he asked again, his voice cool and detached, as though the man who had smashed everything in the room upon discovering her absence were not the same person.
“The Beile actually asks me why I ran?”
Ye Nanyuan slowly turned around. The moment her eyes met his, they instantly reddened.
Her pale lips moved, but before she could speak, tears suddenly began to fall. “When I first met you, you told me you were just an ordinary merchant.”
“You said you had only one virtuous wife at home, forced upon you by your parents’ wishes.” Her lips trembled as she repeated the words he had once spoken.
Never did she imagine they would sound so cold and mocking now.
She was beautiful, with a delicate face that was flawless in its elegance, especially her phoenix eyes—bright as stars, shimmering with emotion, every trace of love, hatred, resentment, and longing written within them.
It was these eyes he had loved most.
Now, those eyes were red and swollen, tears streaming down her cheeks. “It was Nanyuan who was foolish, stubbornly falling for you, insisting on becoming that hidden mistress.”
She slowly straightened up, her bloodless lips trembling beneath the torrent of hot tears.
A self-mocking smile touched her lips. “It was my own blindness, not recognizing how noble your status truly was, with a household full of wives and concubines, surrounded by children.”
“Nanyuan is of lowly birth, yet I dared to dream of climbing high.”
Her eyes were bloodshot from crying as she bent her knees to bow to him. “I beg you, Fourth Prince, to forgive this humble servant Nanyuan for her past insolence, her persistence, and her crime of clinging to power.”
She smiled on the surface, but hot tears continued to fall, one after another, splashing onto the ground.
The Fourth Prince’s hands, hanging at his sides, suddenly clenched.
“I never meant to deceive you back then.”
But she turned her head away, refusing to look at him again. “I beg you, Fourth Prince, to release Nanyuan. Let me live out my days quietly in this remote town.”
Ye Nanyuan leaned back, her entire being too vivid, too fragile. Beneath her slender neck, she seemed as delicate as if she could shatter at the slightest touch.
His black boots first took a step back.
But in the next instant, he strode forward, the anger in his eyes no longer containable, a cold smile curling at the corners of his lips. “You are already mine. Do you think I would let you stay in this backwater, following some country bumpkin?”
He let out a cold breath, his anger fully unleashed. His fingers reached out, slipping beneath her crimson cloak, parting her collar, and delving into her robes.
His burning fingers roamed over her body, and she panicked, immediately grabbing his wandering hand. “What are you doing?”
His eyes were frosty as he retorted without mercy. “Taking you, of course. What else did you think?”
With a gentle flick of his fingers, her plain white skirt fell to her feet.
He seized her hand and pulled her forward, pressing her down onto the desk. Ye Nanyuan trembled all over, her collar wide open, revealing her slender waist and snow-white skin.
She had a slim waist, long legs, and striking features. Her shimmering eyes brimmed with hot tears, accentuating the breathtaking beauty of her face.
The eyes that pinned her down gradually filled with desire. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to suppress it, but his gaze swept to her side: “Since parting, I recall our meetings, how often in dreams have I been with you?”
She was pressed against the desk, a pile of papers beneath her.
When she had first entered, she had been practicing calligraphy.
Releasing her wrist, he bent down and pulled the paper from beneath her. The rest of the poem came into view: “Tonight, I hold the silver lamp high, fearing our reunion is but a dream.”
He slowly raised his head, his gaze shifting to her.
Ye Nanyuan’s already bloodless face turned deathly pale the moment she saw that paper.
All the love and hatred, the complexity and longing in her eyes were laid bare before him, flooding into his heart.
He set down the paper, and she turned her head away, softly sobbing.
With a faint sigh, his heart was in turmoil. Bending down, he pulled her into his embrace, holding her so tightly that veins bulged in the crook of his arm.
Ye Nanyuan sank entirely into his embrace, her eyelashes trembling, her gaze lowered. On her right cheek, fairer than snow, tears still glistened, and beneath her shimmering eyes lay a fragility that stirred pity from the depths of one’s heart.
“It is I who have wronged you,” the Fourth Prince closed his eyes, holding her even tighter.
Even his icy gaze could not conceal the struggle and remorse within.
Ye Nanyuan trembled slightly in his arms, then suddenly lifted her face. All the fragility, innocence, and pitiful charm vanished in an instant.
She blinked, resting her chin on his shoulder, her reddened eyes now calm and devoid of any ripple of emotion.
She lifted her gaze to look ahead.
From June until now, she could not help but recall how, over the past six months, she had step by step laid her trap, ensnared him, and become his mistress.
Lost in memories of the past, she curved her red lips and leaned close to his ear, uttering a silent, mocking word.
“Brother-in-law.”