Nan Rao threw off the covers and got out of bed. The snowy night was bitterly cold, and she felt the chill pierce straight to her bones almost instantly. She dreaded the cold more than anything, and now she couldn't help but shiver slightly, her teeth clenched tight together.
Even so, she still didn't put on the outer robe hanging to one side, nor did she put on shoes. Her bare, fair feet stepped onto the ground, cold as cast iron, and she didn't even reach up to smooth her disheveled black hair.
Her gaze was calm as she pushed open the door and walked straight out.
Snowflakes fell like grains of salt, drifting slowly down from midair, illuminated by the rows of lanterns hanging beneath the eaves.
Several guards were stationed outside.
When they saw Nan Rao suddenly emerge like this—clothes in disarray, hair loose and unkempt—they were all startled and hurried forward to block her way. But she seemed not to pay them any mind at all, showing no intention of stopping. Instead, it was the guards who, in trying to avoid her, were forced to retreat step after step, stumbling awkwardly.
After all, the woman before them was the Grand Chancellor's person, and she wore only a thin garment. They didn't even dare look at her closely, let alone reach out and touch her.
The guards exchanged glances. One hurried off to report to the Grand Chancellor, while the rest continued trying to block Nan Rao.
Nan Rao charged about frantically, her white robes and loose hair making her look like a ghost drifting through the night. She paid no attention to the people blocking her path. She only felt cold—a bone-deep, agonizing cold that numbed her completely.
This self-tormenting, frantic behavior quickly alerted Pei Ling.
Pei Ling had been in the front hall dealing with Yang Zhao's matter, but he'd only gotten halfway through before he anxiously turned back. From a distance, he saw her standing barefoot in the icy snow, and he strode over quickly to pull her into his arms.
"What are you doing?!" His tone was cold and urgent despite himself.
She was held in his embrace, her shoulders trembling from the cold, and she looked up at him with dark, moist eyes. "Where did you go, my lord…"
Pei Ling was taken aback. Looking down, he saw snow on her brows and lashes, tears on her cheeks, and a clearly dazed expression on her face. He immediately regretted how harsh his tone had been.
He pressed his lips together and said in a low voice, "I didn't go far."
"When I woke up… I didn't see you…"
"You were looking for me?"
She didn't answer, only clutched the fabric of his robes.
Pei Ling frowned deeply. A flood of emotions surged through him—heartache, suspicion, self-reproach, and faintly mixed in, an indescribable joy. Compared to her earlier fierce resistance and utter refusal to be swayed, the dependence the woman in his arms now showed came far too quickly, as unreal as a dream.
But considering what she'd been through over the past day and night—being forced to kill someone with her own hands—anyone would be frightened. It was understandable, after all.
There was no time to dwell on it now. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her back into the room, wrapping her in thick quilts. Feeling that her hands and feet were cold as ice, he quickly instructed the maidservant behind him, "Bring the hand warmer."
The maidservant hurriedly brought over the purple-gold bronze hand warmer decorated with floral patterns. Pei Ling tucked it into her arms, warming her hands and feet, while gently patting her back with his palm to soothe her.
She curled up in Pei Ling's arms, her lashes lowered, quiet and still.
Yan Zhan had still been in the front hall moments ago. He'd seen the Grand Chancellor, calm and composed one moment, sternly and coldly interrogating the other party, then the next moment sweeping away with his sleeves, disappearing without even a word of instruction.
Even Wang Che stood frozen in place, asking Yan Zhan with a bewildered look, "Brother Boyu, what's with the Grand Chancellor?"
Yan Zhan pressed his hand to his forehead with a wry smile. "No trouble. Let me go ask."
It was probably because of the Princess again.
Sure enough, when Yan Zhan hurried over in pursuit, he saw the Grand Chancellor holding the Princess in his arms, patiently comforting her. Yan Zhan's eyes widened in astonishment, and he stammered, "Grand Chancellor, um… Wang Che and the others are still…"
"You handle it."
How could Pei Ling possibly leave right now?
In any case, Yang Zhao wasn't anyone important. This time, he had indeed sent men to injure Nan Rao—one of his subordinates dead, one wounded—and Pei Ling had the leverage. Even if Grand Tutor Yang wanted to come argue with Pei Ling over this, he'd only embarrass himself knowing he was in the wrong. It was enough to let Yan Zhan and Wang Che handle it.
Yan Zhan knew the situation was unusual and didn't ask another word, turning to withdraw.
Yan Zhan had only thought the Princess was acting a bit strangely tonight. He never imagined that she would truly cling to Pei Ling without letting go.
In the days that followed, she couldn't sleep peacefully. If she woke in the night and didn't see anyone, she would rush out in a panic.
Every single time, she went without shoes.
On top of that, her head injury was serious. She occasionally suffered sudden dizzy spells, and the swelling hadn't gone down even after the female physician applied medicine. A more skilled doctor needed to be brought in to examine her.
Under these circumstances, Pei Ling couldn't rest easy.
He had no choice but to watch over her personally.
As Grand Chancellor, he oversaw all officials and bore a heavy burden of government affairs. Though his subordinates each had their own duties, and the Chancellor's Chief Clerk assisted in management, Pei Ling had still often worked late into the night over these past five years—staying up until dawn was not uncommon.
In addition, there were matters such as presiding over court deliberations. After collective discussions, the Prime Minister would lead the memorials to the throne, and whenever matters of great importance arose, they were decided jointly by the Prime Minister and the Emperor. Though the current Emperor had long since come of age, he had relied too heavily on Pei Ling even before ascending the throne, and after taking power, he had appeared overly indecisive amid the maelstrom of clashing factions. Even now, he rarely made major state decisions alone.
Yan Zhan watched helplessly as Nan Rao clung to Pei Ling so tightly that whenever he had matters to report, it was nearly impossible to find a moment to speak with the Prime Minister alone.
Pei Ling's temperament was cold and merciless. Had it been anyone else, there was no way they could have moved him in the slightest. Even those who had once shared good rapport with him would find it difficult to seek private leniency when trouble arose.
Let alone forcing him to spend every day by their side, neglecting his duties.
Only the Princess was different.
Pei Ling's study housed numerous important documents and case files, with heavy guards surrounding it and no unauthorized personnel permitted near. Yet under these special circumstances, an exception was made for her.
Nan Rao wore thick clothing, draped in a heavy crane-feather cloak, a hand warmer clutched to her chest as she followed him into the study.
While Pei Ling dealt with the mountain of accumulated official business, she rested at the side.
Neither spoke.
There was little exchange between her and Pei Ling, yet they shared an unspoken understanding. He did not mention his late wife, and she did not utter a single word about Duan Xun. But after that night's embrace, the barrier beneath the veil of worldly propriety had been thoroughly shattered.
In Pei Ling's eyes, there was naturally no such thing as worldly prejudice or the bonds of human ethics, nor could this be considered stealing another man's wife. If one insisted on scrutinizing it, Duan Xun was the one who had inserted himself between them.
As for Nan Rao.
She appeared very quiet.
When Pei Ling was writing, she would occasionally walk to his side and take the initiative to grind ink for him.
Pei Ling did not shield his official correspondence from her gaze. From Nan Rao's angle, she could clearly see the man's brush flying across the page, writing with effortless flourish, free and flowing.
The saying goes that the writing reveals the person, yet Pei Ling's calligraphy was nothing like his cold, forbidding exterior. On the contrary, it was extremely neat and beautiful—like iron strokes and silver hooks, with an ancient elegance in the brushwork, bold and unrestrained. Only at the turning points did the tip of the brush reveal a sliver of sharp, icy edge.
She saw the signature: "Guanqing."
Pei Ling, courtesy name Guanqing.
Pei Guanqing.
She merely recited these three characters in her heart, yet it felt as though she had called them out countless times. A sharp pain suddenly struck her mind, causing her brows to knit tightly.
—Ever since her head injury, the frequency of her headaches had increased considerably.
Just as she closed her eyes to endure the pain, her fingers, which were pinching the ink stick, were suddenly clasped by a warm, large hand.
She started. Beneath the hazy lamplight, Pei Ling's features were faint and indifferent as he rubbed her ice-cold fingertips. "So cold. Go rest."
She lowered her eyes and asked, "Does my lord find me a nuisance?"
Pei Ling said, "Of course not."
She set down the ink stick and went to the side to pour a cup of hot tea, holding it with both hands as she offered it to him.
Pei Ling's brush paused mid-stroke. He raised his dark eyes, his gaze landing on her slightly anxious face.
"I told you there's no need to wait on me. You are not a maidservant; you needn't do such chores." He lowered his eyes with a sigh, taking the teacup and setting it aside. "The tea is scalding. Don't burn yourself."
She hesitated. "I… I have nothing else to do anyway."
Pei Ling's gaze darkened as he carefully studied her face. Her complexion was porcelain-white, her lashes lowered, her lips gently pressed together, as though she were deeply uneasy.
Perhaps in these past few days, she had realized she was alone and helpless, and wanted to find another powerful man to rely on. Or perhaps, after this escape, she had discovered that Pei Ling harbored feelings for her and had chosen to accept her fate.
Whichever it was, it meant she would be more receptive to staying by his side.
The moment Pei Ling thought of this, it was as though a stone had sunk to the bottom of a lake, stirring ripple after ripple in his heart.
He pitied her current unease, yet he also eagerly anticipated what her reaction would be when she learned the truth. He had endured for so long, and finally, he could freely tell her that they were husband and wife.
Once the winter solstice palace banquet was over, this winter that had not ceased for five years would finally come to an end.
Everything would be fine.
Nan Rao clung to Pei Ling relentlessly. Every day, she waited until he finished his official business, and only when dusk fell would they leave the study for their meal. On this day, Attendant Lyu arrived from the palace—the Emperor had summoned Pei Ling to the palace to discuss important matters.
Nan Rao still clutched Pei Ling's sleeve, refusing to let him go.
She did not understand the greater picture; she only held onto Pei Ling, absolutely refusing to release her grip.
Earlier, worried that she might do something rash, all sharp objects near Nan Rao had been confiscated, including the dagger Lu Ke had given her. Over these past few days, Nan Rao's condition had improved, which pleased him greatly. To coax her into letting go, Pei Ling gave her his own imperial dagger—one that could cut through iron like mud.
He placed the dagger in her arms. "Keep it for self-defense. But you are not to harm yourself with it."
Only then did she relax her fingers slightly, lowering her head in silence.
After Pei Ling left, she sat motionless in the room, staring at the dagger in her arms.
Just then, she suddenly heard a faint sound at her ear.
It was like the soft click of something being gently pried open—extremely subtle—followed by the dull thud of footsteps landing.
In the darkness, she held her breath, and a familiar female voice came to her ear.
"Princess."
It was Xie Mingyi.
Several days had passed, and despite Nan Rao exhausting every means to cling to Pei Ling, she still hadn't managed to search for anything that could confirm her identity.
Xie Mingyi, however, came to find her ahead of schedule.
It was precisely because of these days of pestering that Nan Rao came to understand more deeply what the phrase "holding sway over the court, covering the sky with one hand" truly meant. The Prime Minister's estate had far more guards than she had imagined, and occasionally when Pei Ling went out, even the Yulin and Huben guards tasked with protecting the Emperor himself would escort him[1].
Thinking of this, Nan Rao couldn't help but ask: "How did you… get in?"
Xie Mingyi had actually managed to sneak in?
Xie Mingyi replied succinctly: "Over these five years, in order to investigate the truth behind Your Highness's murder, I've snuck into the Prime Minister's estate at night—if not a hundred times, then at least fifty."
Practice makes perfect.
She had even attempted to assassinate Pei Ling.
Unfortunately, she hadn't succeeded.
Not only had she failed, but once Pei Ling had captured her alive and nearly executed her on the spot.
Xie Mingyi did not fear death. When she was forced to her knees with her arms twisted behind her back, she sneered at Pei Ling: "Kill me if you wish. I'll go down below to accompany the Princess."
She couldn't remember Pei Ling's expression at that moment, only that at the critical juncture, Princess Rongchang, Xiao Ruo, had rushed over in a panic.
Xiao Ruo was still young then and greatly feared Pei Ling's icy demeanor, yet she spread her arms wide like a mother hen shielding her chicks, placing herself in front of Xie Mingyi, and stammered at Pei Ling: "I-I have already obtained a decree of grace from my imperial brother. Xie Mingyi is now my maidservant!"
It was only later that Xie Mingyi learned the person who had urgently summoned Princess Rongchang that night to save her was the eldest son of Grand Commandant Deng, the then Palace Counselor Deng Xuan.
Deng Xuan, courtesy name Jiming, was also the cousin who had doted on Princess Huayang since childhood.
Because of this incident, Deng Xuan had offended Pei Ling and was later transferred out of Luoyang to serve as a county magistrate.
Many memories flashed through her mind.
Xie Mingyi only asked: "Your Highness, have you made up your mind?"
Over these past few days, Xie Mingyi had also seriously considered how to keep the Princess safe from Pei Ling's grasp. She felt the most secure method was to bring the Princess to the Grand Commandant's estate. Though the Grand Commandant had been bedridden with illness these past few years, he was still the Princess's maternal uncle and a nephew of the Grand Empress Dowager.
As for how to escape this place…
Xie Mingyi had just taken the opportunity to pilfer two sets of servants' clothes, and had deliberately chosen a time when Pei Ling was away from the estate and the guards were lax. If that still didn't work, she would simply lure the guards away to ensure the Princess could escape first—she wouldn't mind being captured alive once more.
After hearing her plan, Nan Rao quickly shook her head and said: "No, that's too risky."
Just as she finished speaking, hurried footsteps sounded from outside.
"Milady?"
The door was knocked upon—it was Di Yue's voice. "Are you alright?"