The dream was long.
Perhaps because she had not rested properly for many days, Nan Rao slept extremely deeply, almost unable to wake. It was not until early the next morning, when someone was unlocking the cell door, that she was suddenly startled awake.
Her body was still terribly cold, her limbs as limp and powerless as if drained dry. After this sleep, her body seemed even heavier. She forced a thread of clarity into her consciousness and looked toward the outside of the cell, thinking it must be her turn to be interrogated.
Unexpectedly, the moment the person entered, they instructed: "Remove her shackles."
Nan Rao froze. Interrogations took place in the imperial prison—why remove the shackles? The person saw her confusion and unease, smiled, and only said: "Do not be nervous, madam. Today a person of importance wishes to question you. Just come with us."
A person of importance?
Which person of importance?
Was it that official from yesterday?
Nan Rao's thoughts were in chaos, but the other person had already swiftly removed her shackles and gestured for her to rise and follow.
She quietly followed behind the prison guard, leaving the imperial prison. After who knows how many twists and turns, she was brought to a room, and the guards closed the door and left on their own.
Several maidservants were waiting inside. Seeing Nan Rao arrive, the one at the head stepped forward eagerly, smiling: "Madam has traveled far and been through much. Let us first attend to your bath, then change your clothes before you go to see the official."
Before Nan Rao could even understand what was happening, she instinctively reached out to block the hand that was reaching to undo her clothes, stepping back to decline: "Thank you for your kindness, but—"
Yet the other party seemed to have no regard for her wishes, still reaching out to pull her over. Nan Rao was forced to retreat again and again until her back pressed against the wall. Slightly annoyed, she spoke up: "I have come to see the official regarding the wrongful case of my husband. I have never heard of any rule requiring a bath and change of clothes."
Unexpectedly finding her so stubborn, they exchanged glances. The lead maidservant's eyes flickered, and she smiled: "Since madam does not wish to bathe, then so be it. But you must at least be properly tidied. If you appear disheveled before the official, it would seem rather presumptuous."
That statement did make sense. Nan Rao had been travel-worn and looked quite unkempt. If the person she was to meet held high position and great power, she should indeed tidy herself as a matter of courtesy.
She thought for a moment, then cooperated and sat down before the bronze mirror.
The maidservants moved swiftly, unpinning Nan Rao's hair bun. Her full head of dark hair instantly cascaded down her back—black, soft, and lustrous, though the ends were slightly dry. It was clear she had lived well before, but had suffered considerably in recent days.
Soon, they finished combing her hair. The next step was changing her clothes.
Nan Rao said softly: "No need to trouble yourselves. I will do it myself."
The maidservants had no choice but to withdraw.
Nan Rao carefully locked the door before beginning to change. She unfolded the garment and examined it closely—it was an apricot-yellow curved-hem robe of fine fabric and cut. The strange feeling in her heart grew even stronger.
After changing, she walked to the window and pushed the previously ajar window a bit wider, wanting to see what was happening outside.
Unexpectedly, she heard fragmented voices carried on the howling north wind.
It was those who had just attended to her toilette.
"They say the person we just served is a female prisoner held in the imperial prison. Do you think, with looks like hers, Chief Clerk Yan has taken a fancy to her?"
"I heard this woman comes from a humble background, and she's been married before?"
"There are plenty of nobles in Luoyang who favor married women. Those who have been married are better at bearing children—if she becomes a concubine, she can continue the family line."
"Shh, keep your voice down."
Hearing these words, Nan Rao's heart plummeted straight down, sinking to the very bottom.
Chief Clerk Yan…
The official who had done her justice yesterday was indeed called Chief Clerk Yan.
Had he also arranged for her to change clothes today? Could it truly be, as they said, that Chief Clerk Yan harbored improper intentions toward her?
Yesterday, based on her first impression, she had felt that Chief Clerk Yan's attitude toward her was more like that of someone encountering an old acquaintance, not someone moved by lust. Had she misjudged?
Nan Rao grew increasingly uneasy. Yesterday she had only hoped that the official would do her justice; she had never imagined being given such "special attention."
Thinking it over carefully, it was indeed wrong. If the official were an upright man, he should have attended to her after the interrogation was complete and her grievances confirmed—only then would there be no room for gossip.
Anyone who entered the imperial prison would be in a sorry state. Why would they give her the opportunity to bathe and change clothes?
People who had long navigated officialdom rarely did things without benefit. Nothing in this world fell from the sky. What she feared was that behind this kindness lay a price she would have to pay far more dearly.
As Nan Rao was pondering this, footsteps sounded from outside. She quickly closed the small window.
Someone knocked on the door.
"Madam, it is time to go."
Nan Rao's heart pounded harder. She quickly responded, "Coming."
Even as she answered, she rapidly scanned the room. Seeing a pair of scissors on the table, she snatched them up and hid them in her sleeve.
Wolves and tigers lurked all around Luoyang, and she was mostly powerless to protect herself here. From the moment she decided to enter Luoyang to seek justice, she had already prepared for the worst.
She gripped the scissors tightly, took a deep breath, and slowly pushed the door open to walk out.
Yan Zhan, dressed in casual attire, stood guard under the corridor, waiting for Nan Rao to come over.
Servants were clearing the accumulated snow. No sooner had they finished sweeping it clean than a thick layer of snow covered the ground again, leaving footprints of varying depths as people walked over it. She followed behind the others with her head lowered, walking slowly. The thin sunlight fell upon the woman's slender silhouette, as if gilding it with a warm glow.
A bleak winter wind swept through the corridor, lifting the woman's soft hair tips. Several strands of jet-black hair brushed across her snow-white neck, further accentuating a graceful, supple curve.
Everyone around was somewhat stunned by the sight.
Luoyang was never short of beauties, but a woman with such looks and bearing as the one before them was extremely rare.
One might have mistaken her for a gentle and refined young lady raised by a noble clan.
Even Yan Zhan was momentarily taken aback, thinking to himself: Indeed, clothes make the man. Yesterday she had been so disheveled that he almost didn't recognize her. Today, with a change of clothes, she finally bore some resemblance to her former self.
Yan Zhan waited until Nan Rao drew near before turning around, signaling her to follow.
Nan Rao's eyelashes trembled. She wanted to ask him something, but he walked quickly, as if pressed for time. The attendants behind her also urged her to keep up. Her fingers lightly clutched her skirt, forcibly suppressing the unease in her heart as she followed.
Soon they arrived outside a room. Yan Zhan stopped and said to her, "Madam, please go in." With that, he pushed open the door.
Nan Rao hadn't expected to be entering alone. Clearly, the person she was to meet today was not Yan Zhan, but someone else.
Moreover, this person's status was far above Yan Zhan's, which was why Yan Zhan himself was personally escorting her.
"Lord Yan…"
She looked at Yan Zhan, with many questions she wanted to ask.
"You need not be afraid. The noble person inside is the one who can truly render a verdict on the case you wish to plead."
Because the door was open, Yan Zhan instinctively lowered his voice as he spoke.
Nan Rao looked toward the doorway.
What awaited her inside was entirely unknown.
Having come this far, she had no other choice. She clenched the scissors in her sleeve and slowly walked in.
"Bang."
The door behind her was suddenly shut.
Her path of retreat was cut off. Nan Rao's back stiffened for a moment as she stood still, not moving for a long while. She kept her head cautiously lowered, though her peripheral vision was quietly observing the scene inside.
Since they were still within the Tingwei office, this room appeared to have been hastily prepared, with simple and plain furnishings.
But compared to the wind and snow raging outside, the interior was already quite warm.
"…My lord?"
She couldn't help but call out.
No one answered.
Caught between advancing and retreating, Nan Rao tentatively took two more steps forward. When her peripheral vision caught a glimpse of a corner of dark blue robe, she was suddenly startled.
Someone was sitting there.
The moment Nan Rao sensed it, she dared not hesitate any longer. She turned slightly and knelt properly in the direction of the person, prostrating herself in a full formal bow.
"Your subject pays respects to my lord! Your subject's name is Nan Rao, from Qingzhou. My husband is Duan Xun, a scion of the Duan clan. Last month, my husband was killed by someone's machinations on the battlefield. The Duan clan has been accused of colluding with the enemy and betraying the state—this is a grave injustice. Your subject has traveled a thousand miles to Luoyang to seek justice for the Duan clan. I beg my lord to render a fair judgment for your subject!"
She prostrated herself on the ground, each word resolute.
The moment she finished speaking, she felt a gaze fall upon her.
It was almost tangible.
He was looking at her.
Nan Rao remained kneeling with her head bowed, her posture proper, neither servile nor overbearing. She had not raised her head and had no idea of his appearance, age, or current state. Was he looking at her? Why didn't he speak?
Faintly, she caught a subtle, elusive fragrance of tea drifting through the air.
The man seemed to be drinking tea.
From not far away came the extremely faint sound of a cup being set down, as if placed on a ceramic table. She wasn't sure if she'd misheard, but she seemed to catch the barest trace of a sigh.
Then, he stood up.
Footsteps drew closer.
A beautiful, slender hand appeared in Nan Rao's field of vision.
She remained kneeling with her head lowered, not offering her hand to him, stubbornly repeating herself: "Your subject is already a married woman. I beg my lord to enforce the law impartially and seek justice for your subject."
Yet that hand remained steadily extended in the air.
"Give me what's in your hand."
The moment he spoke, his tone carried a faint air of one in authority issuing a command—not cold, yet it made one instinctively want to obey.
Nan Rao was greatly startled, not expecting this person to be so perceptive. But she gritted her teeth and still didn't move.
"What are you holding in your hand."
Seeing how stubborn she was, he slowly spelled it out.
Nan Rao felt her blood rush to her head. Because of her extreme tension, her palms were already slick with sweat. She knew that since he had discovered it, pretending to be foolish was useless. Under his coercion, she could only slowly extend her right hand.
There, in the woman's fair and slender right hand, was a small pair of scissors tightly gripped, its sharp point exceptionally keen, reflecting a cold, sinister gleam in the dim room.
Seeing that it was a pair of scissors, he suddenly let out a faint laugh.
"Afraid I'll do something to you?"
She said nothing, tacitly confirming it.
The woman lying prostrate on the ground was thin and frail, yet her spine carried a resilient arc. She looked as if a single blow could break her, but the hand gripping the scissors was taut with unusual tension.
She refused to hand him the scissors.
"I am alone in the world, and only wish to use this to protect myself. I beg your honor to understand." Her voice was soft.
He did not press her. Withdrawing his hand, he straightened up and turned back toward the pottery table. Nan Rao sensed his back was to her and, emboldened, quietly lifted her head, her gaze landing on his retreating figure.
Outside, wind and snow raged. The north wind blowing through the window crossed the pottery table, swaying the candle flame and lifting the man's dark robe and wide sleeves, making his tall, upright form all the more striking—like a pine, like a crane.
While she was watching him, he had already picked up the pottery bowl from the table and turned around, his gaze drifting toward her at a leisurely pace.
Their eyes met for a fleeting instant across the space between them.
The candles on either side flickered violently, casting a dim yellow warmth across the man's brow, nose, and eyes—save for a pair of clear, dark, deep-set eyes, as if fathomless.
This time she saw his face clearly, then quickly lowered her lashes and bowed her head.
This man…
His bearing was noble and pure as a gentleman's, yet beneath his handsome, aloof exterior seemed to lurk an indescribable ruthlessness and coldness.
Nan Rao grew even more hesitant and uneasy, her mind racing. She was uncertain of his intentions—had he summoned her here to interrogate her about the wrongful case after all?
"Your honor, I wish to ask—" she ventured.
Before she could finish, the man had already walked back to stand before her, crouching down slightly in front of her.
His beautiful, slender fingers held the pottery bowl and set it before her. "Before we discuss anything else, eat some pastries first."
Nan Rao was momentarily speechless.
At a time like this, he was telling her to eat? Her gaze followed his clean, well-proportioned fingers and landed on the delicate pastries arranged in the pottery bowl.
They smelled wonderful.
They looked… extremely delicious, likely.
The more she looked, the hungrier she grew. She forced herself to look away. "I came to see your honor because my hus—"
"I know."
The man cut her off abruptly, speaking unhurriedly: "Since you have a request of me, surely you know that many things in this world must be exchanged for a price. Are you not afraid that by repeatedly offending me and provoking my ire, I will refuse to act on your behalf?"
Nan Rao's face paled slightly.
She closed her eyes and said in a low voice: "A gentleman stands alone yet equal to heaven and earth—how could that be achieved by currying favor and patching things over? I seek justice, but I have never said I would do anything." She paused briefly, then added bluntly: "Besides, would an official who forces innocent commoners to compromise and yield truly accept such a thorny case on my behalf?"
She could die, but she would never suffer humiliation.
If possible, Nan Rao wanted to live well. But if they tried to force her into something, this pair of scissors would find its way into them.
He listened patiently to her finish, then slowly gathered his sleeves, a faint, ambiguous smile on his lips. "I merely asked you to take a bite of pastry. Is that also 'compromising and yielding'?"
It was not.
Nan Rao could no longer refuse. She reached out, took a piece of pastry, and gave it a small bite.
Sweet.
It was a flavor she liked.
"Thank you, your honor."
After going hungry for so long, her body had grown numb. Now that her taste buds were stimulated, hunger finally registered belatedly. Nan Rao nibbled at the pastry, and though she doubted he would drug it, she still restrained herself from eating too much.
While she ate with her head lowered, he stood not far away, quietly watching her. She could even catch the scent of agarwood carried on his robes.
It was not a common incense, yet it felt familiar to her—though she could not say where she had smelled it before.
This man before her—she could not fathom him.
She did not know his identity, nor his intentions. She had initially thought he might be moved by her appearance, but now that seemed unlikely. His attitude toward her was as strange as Yan Zhan's, and she could not understand why.
Even as she ate the pastry, the man beside her was like a dormant, fearsome beast—she could not ignore his presence at all, and her heart would not settle.
When she finished, she said, "Your honor, my husband—"
Pei Ling's gaze turned abruptly cold. He did not answer directly, but rose swiftly to his feet.
She started, looking up at him.
"Stand up first, then speak." His eyes were half-lidded as he turned aside, his emotions unreadable.
Hearing this, Nan Rao braced herself and pushed up from the ground. She had only been kneeling for a short while, yet her legs had gone numb. The movement was harder than she had imagined, and her already-foggy head spun even more, leaving her nearly without strength.
The moment she stood, a violent wave of dizziness struck without warning.
Nan Rao's vision went black. Even as she bit her tongue to hold on, the world before her began to spin and tilt at breakneck speed.
She shut her eyes abruptly and collapsed without any warning.
The man noticed something was wrong with her. As she fell, he moved with lightning speed to catch her—but the moment he touched her, he found her body burning hot. She was running a high fever.
His expression shifted slightly. He barked in a deep voice, "Someone come!"
Yan Zhan, who had been standing guard outside, hurried in. His expression changed drastically when he saw Nan Rao unconscious in Pei Ling's arms. He rushed out to order someone to fetch a physician, and only after giving the instructions did he come back in to apologize: "Your Excellency, this official was remiss. I thought that after instructing the Commandant of Justice, all would be well. I never imagined she would be this frail. Had I known, I would have sent for a doctor yesterday…"
Pei Ling lowered his lashes, gazing at the pale face of the woman in his arms, his expression shifting with uncertain emotions.
She was so thin—even held in his arms, she was as light as a soft cloud, feeling as though he could not grasp her, as if she might dissipate in an instant.
Pei Ling raised his sleeve and gently wiped away the tear stains at the corners of her eyes. He was about to lift her horizontally and rise to leave when he noticed that even in her unconscious state, her right hand still clutched the scissors tightly.
She did not remember him, and she was on guard against him to the utmost.
Pei Ling fell silent for a moment.
"She…" Yan Zhan watched this scene, still finding it absurd in his heart, and asked cautiously: "She is truly Her Highness?"
Pei Ling said: "She is."
Everyone in Luoyang knew that the current Prime Minister, Pei Ling, had a deceased wife.
That deceased wife held an even more esteemed identity—the sole daughter of the late emperor, the Grand Princess of Huayang, Xiao Lingzhang.
Had they not seen it with their own eyes, no one would have imagined that the princess who fell off a cliff five years ago, leaving no remains behind, had miraculously survived, lost all her memories, and reappeared in Luoyang.
And happened to be seen by Pei Ling.
Yesterday.
Pei Ling was riding in his carriage out of the palace when, passing by the gates of the Commandant of Justice's office, he suddenly heard the sound of drums pounding.
"How peculiar," said Yan Zhan, who was driving the carriage, puzzled. "In this heavy snow, someone is actually beating the petition drum—and a woman at that."
Pei Ling had been resting with his eyes closed in the carriage. Upon hearing this, he reached out and lifted the curtain, casting a casual glance outside.
And that was all it took—one glance.
The woman's back was extremely familiar.
Pei Ling had lost his wife for five full years, yet for her voice, her appearance, her silhouette—even if another five years passed, he would never forget them.
When the yamen runners came out to escort her inside, he finally saw her face clearly.
It was her.
His princess, found again after losing her.