Nan Rao fainted with startling suddenness.
They had added warmer clothing for her over the past few days, and nourishing supplements had been mixed into her food, yet none of it could compensate for her frail constitution.
Every arrangement that followed was made in great haste—there was not a moment to spare. Pei Ling personally brought her back to the Chancellor's residence.
That night, the lamps of the Chancellor's mansion burned until dawn.
The physicians of the residence were highly skilled. They took Nan Rao's pulse with great care for a long while, then wrote down a detailed account of her physical condition and presented it to Pei Ling.
"Your Excellency, this young lady suffered a shock. Her emotions fluctuated too violently, causing her to collapse suddenly."
That was what the physician said.
Pei Ling remained silent for a long time.
He had people watching Lu Ke at all times. Lu Ke would not have dared to say anything that would directly provoke her—he had only urged her to trust him.
Was the prospect of going with him truly so unbearable to her?
Enough to wound her to this extent?
Yan Zhan chose this moment to enter. He carried documents in his hands, his expression seeming somewhat unusual. He stepped forward and said in a low voice, "Your Excellency, regarding the princess—this official has completed the full investigation."
Only then did Pei Ling turn and head to the study.
Outside, heavy snow drifted through the bitter winter air. Inside the study, candlelight burned bright, and the fragrance of agarwood from the Boshan incense burner permeated everything, seeping into one's lungs without resistance, warm as early summer.
Pei Ling stood before the window for a long time, his silhouette cast as a dim shadow by the lamplight.
He looked at the documents before him and was silent for a long while.
The documents were dozens of pages thick—everything Nan Rao had experienced over these years, every detail, no matter how small, had been recorded.
Every word was like a knife carving into his heart, each character cutting to the bone.
So it turned out that after she fell off the cliff back then, she had not truly turned misfortune into fortune. Instead, she had lain in the snow waiting to die, until a family of hunters rescued her.
Over the years, Duan Xun had taken her to see renowned physicians far and wide, all of whom said she could not survive. Had Duan Xun not come from a great clan with vast wealth, sparing no expense on the finest medicines in the world to sustain her, her life could not have been preserved.
She had lost all her memories and suffered from severe headaches.
She was afflicted with a Cold Affliction and was extremely sensitive to the cold.
She had once attempted suicide because she did not wish to burden others.
And then—Pei Ling's gaze fell upon even more shocking words.
It would be extremely difficult for her to conceive again.
No wonder she had been married to Duan Xun for years without bearing children.
Pei Ling's jaw tightened. His hands clenched beneath his sleeves until they turned pale. His heart felt as though it were being drowned by waves surging in one after another, and for a moment, he felt lost.
He simply could not connect the pitiful, orphaned woman described in these pages with the radiant, willful, dignified princess in his memories.
He could not even imagine how so many illnesses and injuries could all converge upon a single person.
No wonder every time he held her, she felt as light as a feather—so thin and frail it was pitiful.
During all the time he could not see her, who knew how much suffering she had endured.
"Your Excellency, Nan Rao has awakened," a servant entered at that moment and reported in a low voice.
"Nan Rao."
Pei Ling slowly savored this unfamiliar name. His gaze fell upon the prescription at hand, and he smiled with a hint of irony.
The southern ridge daphne flower—it too was a medicinal herb.
Though slightly toxic, it could cure illness. It grew mostly in mountainous rocky areas and cliff faces, tenacious in its vitality, able to survive even in the harshest environments.
But such an ordinary, unremarkable name was truly unworthy of her.
Xiao Lingzhang was her true name.
"Zhang"—half a gui jade, the ritual vessel used by the Son of Heaven to worship heaven, earth, mountains, and rivers. Everyone said that the late emperor, having a daughter in his old age, bestowing this name upon the princess was proof enough of his deep affection for his youngest child.
Pei Ling silently withdrew his gaze and looked out at the ceaselessly falling snow.
This snow had fallen for too long. It was time for it to stop. Now that she had returned to his side, he would slowly make her forget everything about Nan Rao and become his Xiao Lingzhang once more.
No one would ever take her from him again.
When Nan Rao woke from her coma, she was disoriented for a moment.
Having spent so long in that dark, damp, cold dungeon, suddenly seeing a warmly appointed bedchamber gave her a surreal sense of having returned to the world of the living.
Her head felt as heavy as if it were filled with lead, and her entire body was weak. She could only see figures moving back and forth before her eyes.
"The young lady is awake." The young maidservant attending to her looked very young, with a delicate, pleasant face. She smiled at Nan Rao with curved eyes. "This servant is called Lu Ying. I have been ordered to attend to the young lady's daily needs."
Nan Rao was momentarily stunned.
Lu Ying knew well that this person before her could not be treated lightly—otherwise, the Chancellor would not have personally carried her back yesterday and tended to her until dawn. Seeing that Nan Rao was still in a daze, she offered words of comfort: "There is no need to be afraid. No one here will harm the young lady. This servant will attend to you personally. If you need anything, you need only command me."
Nan Rao managed a faint smile at her. "Thank you."
Afterward, she chatted with Lu Ying and roughly learned her situation.
This was indeed the Chancellor's residence.
Under the laws of the current dynasty, the Chancellor and the Three Excellencies and Grand Tutor were each permitted to establish their own offices and appoint staff. The Chancellor's residence was divided into a front courtyard and a rear courtyard. The front courtyard was where matters of state were handled. The Chancellor had numerous subordinate officials, each with their own duties—matters of the people's livelihood, reports from the commanderies and princedoms, and all affairs of the realm were settled here. Even the clerical staff numbered three hundred and sixty-two, making it a veritable miniature court.
As for the rear courtyard, it was merely the living quarters.
Though all the arrangements were centered on quiet elegance, the pavilions and waterside terraces were complete in every detail—towering Hua Mountain peaks, winding deep waters, and a thousand brackets spreading like rosy clouds, all in the utmost grandeur.
The small courtyard where Nan Rao resided was the most secluded and tranquil place; no one would discover her presence there.
Once word of her awakening spread, meals were quickly delivered. Considering her frail condition, the food was light and plain in appearance, but in truth it held hidden treasures—countless rare ingredients worth a fortune were mixed in.
Nan Rao vaguely sensed something amiss, but before she could decline, several garments were delivered as well.
A single sweeping glance at the gowns sent over was enough to tell that several were cut from luxurious silks such as Double-Silk Satin, Double-Cluster Satin, and Celestial-Pattern Satin. Though the styles were not extravagantly ornate, they were still worth a thousand pieces of gold.
Nan Rao felt uneasy about it and did not touch those clothes.
It was not until footsteps sounded from outside and Pei Ling stepped through the snow, entering slowly, that he saw the woman in plain robes with hair loose, still weakly reclining on the couch.
Seeing that it was him, she hurriedly tried to rise, but was cut off by two words: "No need to get up."
Nan Rao could only pause.
When his gaze swept over her, cool and clear, as if appraising her—though his eyes were lucid and held not the slightest hint of impropriety—she still found herself gripping the bed curtain, wanting to shrink back.
Seeing her discomfort, Pei Ling turned his back to her and asked in a gentle voice, "Why do you not wear the clothes the servants sent?"
"To answer Your Excellency…" She lowered her lashes and spoke softly, "These garments are too precious. This common woman cannot accept them. Moreover…"
She gathered her courage and lifted her eyes to look at him.
"My husband passed away not long ago. It is proper for me to observe mourning for him. It would not be fitting to wear such bright colors."
At these words, the air fell silent for a moment.
Yan Zhan, following behind Pei Ling, was no stranger to storms in his daily life, but even he nearly lost his composure at the phrase "observe mourning for my husband."
He instinctively glanced at Pei Ling.
Pei Ling kept his lashes lowered the entire time, making it impossible to read the emotions in his eyes.
With him silent, the air grew so stiff it became tense.
Nan Rao almost thought she had angered him, and was about to continue explaining when she suddenly heard him say, "Very well."
Pei Ling clenched his hands tightly within his sleeves, shut his eyes abruptly, and steadied the churning emotions in his heart. In as cold a tone as he could manage, he instructed Yan Zhan behind him, "Make the arrangements. Send over some white garments later—no need for expensive fabrics, just something warm enough will do."
"Understood." Yan Zhan kept his eyes lowered and his mind composed, thinking to himself that the Grand Chancellor truly had remarkable restraint.
Nan Rao immediately let out a breath of relief and curved her lips slightly.
"Thank you, Your Excellency."
Though Nan Rao thought that a man of his age must surely already have a wife, she still dared not naively believe that he truly had no other intentions. The hearts of people in this world were difficult to fathom; she always had to maintain an extra measure of caution.
At the very least, wearing mourning clothes would constantly remind everyone around her that she had already been married.