The time before she turned nine years old seemed as if it had never existed.
From the moment her memories of her past life became clear, Li Fuxiang was the treasured jewel of the current emperor. After the death of his biological mother, Lady Xu, he was nominally placed under the name of Noble Consort Xian. However, that was in name only; Noble Consort Xian rarely saw him. Li Fuxiang was raised and personally educated by the emperor in the Qianqing Palace. Even when he reached the age to leave the palace and establish his own residence, the emperor was reluctant to let him go. Whatever he desired, he was granted without exception.
At the age of sixteen, Li Fuxiang followed the Marquis of Wei, Zheng Qianye, to battle on the western frontier. While guarding the camp, he unexpectedly encountered an ambush. Leading three thousand light cavalry, he broke through the siege on a snowy night. Instead of retreating, he advanced, charging straight into the enemy’s central command tent with a spear, beheading the enemy commander. His exploits in that single battle shocked the world.
At seventeen, he was conferred the title of prince.
At eighteen, he married the second legitimate daughter of the Gao family.
At nineteen, the conflict in the western frontier reignited. Prince Xiang took command once again, achieving another victory.
At twenty-one, he ascended as the Crown Prince, and his wife, Madam Gao, was titled the Crown Princess.
Gao Yuexing exhaled a long breath.
Everything she knew was about future events, none of which were of any help to the present.
The current Fifth Prince was a complete stranger to her.
She had just inquired about the Fifth Prince’s given name, only to learn that the emperor had yet to bestow one.
A nameless prince, deeply despised by the emperor.
He was a completely different person from Li Fuxiang.
So, where exactly was her young master now?!
Who else were the princes in the palace?
Gao Yuexing counted on her fingers.
Since entering the palace, the only ones she had not yet seen were the First Prince and the Second Prince.
The First Prince, Li Fuqian, was already sixteen years old—clearly the age didn’t match.
Without hesitation, Gao Yuexing decisively ruled him out.
What about the Second Prince?
The Second Prince was also a figure whose name remained unknown.
In the historical records written in her past life, not a single word was mentioned about him. Even the Third Prince received a passing mention, but the Second Prince seemed to have been deliberately erased from existence.
Gao Yuexing sighed.
To uncover the truth would take far more than a day’s effort. Matters in the palace could not be rushed. It was better to settle her heart first, proceed gradually, and observe and listen more.
After resting for two days, Gao Yuexing accompanied the princess to the Wenhua Hall to attend lessons taught by the Grand Tutor.
The emperor’s offspring were few and far between—only three or five children in total. The First Prince, Li Fuqian, had already reached the age to marry and no longer attended lessons with the others. Thus, in the Wenhua Hall, there were only two princes and one princess attending lectures. Gao Yuexing, having newly entered the palace as a study companion, added a bit of novelty to the group.
The Third Prince, Li Fuqiu, was absent today, having been punished by the emperor and placed under house arrest.
Gao Yuexing saw the Fifth Prince again.
He was crouched in a corner, head lowered, obediently peeling peanuts. The peanut shells were piled all over his books. Attending lessons for him was merely a formality—he showed no reverence for it at all. When he heard that Grand Tutor Liu was coming, he rolled up his books, shook the peanut shells into the book box, clapped his hands clean, and then sat upright, feigning seriousness.
As soon as Grand Tutor Liu entered the room, he said nothing. He simply picked up the discipline ruler and walked straight to him.
This was clearly not his first time experiencing such a situation. He remained calm and composed, resignedly placing his left hand on the desk.
Slap.
Slap.
Slap.
Three strikes of the ruler landed without the slightest mercy.
Grand Tutor Liu, though well past sixty, was full of vigor. His deep-colored, slightly worn robe had been washed to a faded hue, covering his thin and aged frame. Yet his shoulders and back remained as straight as ever.
Truly a great scholar of his time—his upright character commanded respect.
The Fifth Prince withdrew his small hand, rubbing it on his lap. He neither cried nor made a fuss, clearly accustomed to this treatment. His expression seemed to say, Punish me if you must; next time, I’ll still dare to do as I please.
Gao Yuexing suddenly found this Fifth Prince’s personality rather amusing.
Grand Tutor Liu turned to glance at Gao Yuexing.
Gao Yuexing respectfully greeted him.
Seeing how small she was, Grand Tutor Liu scrutinized her for a moment, then sighed with a soft smile, his expression much gentler.
In her previous life, Gao Yuexing had never had the chance to meet Grand Tutor Liu. She had only heard that he was a broad-minded and affable teacher, easy to get along with.
Today, Grand Tutor Liu’s lecture was on the Spring and Autumn Annals. His three students consisted of two older children and one younger.
The princess had little interest in reading and writing. Though she appeared quiet and well-behaved, her gaze wandered, her mind clearly far away.
The Fifth Prince’s indifference was even more blatant—sitting through a full lesson seemed like pure torment for him.
Grand Tutor Liu helplessly looked at his students and was surprised to find that the only one paying serious attention was the not-yet-six-year-old Gao Yuexing.
Gao Yuexing rested her chin in her hands, her expression intensely focused.
Grand Tutor Liu put down his book and asked, “Do you understand what I’m teaching?”
Gao Yuexing tilted her small face up to look at him, cocked her head to the side, but said nothing.
Grand Tutor Liu didn’t press further.
He was already old, nearing the end of his life, while the children before him, still so ignorant and innocent, were only just beginning theirs.
At the end of the lesson, Grand Tutor Liu called Gao Yuexing over and gifted her a set of his old books.
Gao Yuexing cherished them deeply, carefully storing them in her book box.
The Fifth Prince was the last to pack his things. He hurriedly shoved his books into the arms of an attendant. Gao Yuexing noticed that his small book box was stuffed full of various snacks, leaving her utterly speechless.
She stopped in her tracks.
The Fifth Prince caught her gaze. The two stared at each other in silence for a long moment. Then, the Fifth Prince blinked, reached into his book box, and pulled out a soft, white candy gourd, offering it to her.
The sugar gourd was no larger than a child’s palm, round and full, exuding an endearing charm at first glance.
Gao Yuexing stared at the sugar gourd, lost in thought.
The princess, curious, asked, “What is it?”
Gao Yuexing gestured for her to take a bite.
The princess frowned and shook her head disdainfully.
Sugar gourds were offerings for the Kitchen God in common households during the New Year. For children among the common folk, candy was a rare treat. They eagerly awaited this day all year, hoping to receive one or two pieces from their elders, treasures to be carefully kept and nibbled at slowly, savoring sweetness that reached deep into their hearts.
Naturally, the princess wouldn’t recognize it.
In the palace, everything from drinks to meals was made with the finest ingredients. Such coarse, unsanitary food would never appear on their plates.
Gao Yuexing thought of someone.
—Mute Auntie.
In her previous life, before she married Li Fuxiang, Gao Yuexing hadn’t known what a sugar gourd was either. But after their marriage, every New Year’s Eve, the Mute Auntie would personally lead the palace staff in preparing some delicious snacks.
Li Fuxiang had a sweet tooth, and his favorite treat was none other than these soft, sticky sugar gourds.
Holding the sugar gourd handed to her by the Fifth Prince, Gao Yuexing wrapped it in a handkerchief and took a small bite.
The cloying sweetness spread quietly across her lips and teeth.
She couldn’t remember if it tasted the same as before.
But in her heart, amidst the twists and turns of uncertainty, a sudden clarity emerged.
—Why not try finding the Mute Auntie first?
It was said that when Li Fuxiang was young, the only one who served him closely was the Mute Auntie.
Perhaps finding her would be the key to unraveling the mysteries troubling her now.
Gao Yuexing cradled the small sugar gourd and asked the Fifth Prince where it came from.
The Fifth Prince ignored her, grabbed his attendant, and dashed out of Wenhua Hall.
Gao Yuexing didn’t have time to follow.
In the distance, a group of palace maids appeared, hurrying toward them, their skirts fluttering gracefully but their steps steady. The leading maidservant, someone from Noble Consort Xian’s retinue, beamed with joy and announced, “Princess, His Majesty has arrived at Chunhe Palace and summoned you for a conversation!”
The princess’s face lit up with delight. “Really!?”
It was clear that the emperor didn’t visit Chunhe Palace often. Even for someone as noble as the princess, meeting him wasn’t a casual occurrence.
The princess said eagerly, “Ah Xing, let’s go back quickly!”
Gao Yuexing, however, stepped back and clasped her hands together, restraining herself. “Princess, His Majesty hasn’t summoned me.”
It wasn’t proper to appear before the emperor without being summoned.
When Gao Yuexing had been the Princess Consort of Prince Xiang, her every word and action had been bound by such rules.
The identity of a princess consort, the duty of a wife—these were like inescapable shackles, fused to her very bones.
The princess wrinkled her nose. “You’re still young, but you act like such a little traditionalist… Fine, then. You can head back first. Don’t wait for me for lunch. Since Father finally has some free time to visit, Mother will surely keep him for a long chat.”
Gao Yuexing nodded obediently.
The princess left, surrounded by her attendants.
The palace servants, who had come and gone in such a hurry, did not spare her a second glance.
In the blink of an eye, the grand entrance of Wenhua Hall was empty, leaving only Gao Yuexing, a small, solitary figure.
Even the guards outside the hall couldn’t help but cast sidelong glances at her. Yet Gao Yuexing didn’t feel lonely at all. She stood still for a moment, carefully wrapping the sugar gourd in a silk handkerchief before tucking it into the pouch at her waist.
In her past life, as she approached her final moments, she had desperately prayed not to die in such a miserable way.
And so, when she opened her eyes again, she found herself given another chance at life.
Could the gods really hear the voices in people’s hearts?
Standing under the blazing midday sun, Gao Yuexing wandered aimlessly until she unknowingly stumbled into a completely unfamiliar place. The sight of weeds growing wild between the cracks of the bricks beneath her feet snapped her back to reality. She looked around at her surroundings and was startled.
Ahead of her appeared to be an abandoned palace.
The gate was desolate and gray with decay.
It was only upon closer inspection that she could make out the dust-covered plaque above the door, which bore the name: Xiaonan Pavilion.
The heavy wooden doors were peeling and blackened, with an ancient, weighty lock of black iron hanging on them. It was covered in dark red rust, exuding an air of desolation and ruin. Even under the bright noon sun, the place radiated an eerie chill.
Gao Yuexing looked back at the path she had taken, feeling more confused than ever.
In my past life, this place didn’t exist in the palace.
Standing there alone, her rational mind told her to quickly leave this suspicious place. Yet inexplicably, her legs moved of their own accord, carrying her closer.
Wild grass grew in abundance along the palace walls.
In the midst of the withered winter weeds, a small bundle of white fur stood out—a cottony kitten darting through the grass with a rustling sound. It stopped near a section of the wall, tail held high, and stayed there, unmoving.
Gao Yuexing slowly approached.
The kitten was clean, its fur soft and fluffy. A collar around its neck suggested it belonged to some noble in the palace who kept it for amusement.
It wasn’t afraid of people; even when it heard someone approaching, it didn’t run away.
Gao Yuexing watched as it stuck its head into a hole in the wall, squirming halfway in before getting stuck, leaving only its chubby rear visible.
A muffled meow echoed from the other side of the wall.
Gao Yuexing lifted her skirt, grabbed the kitten’s hind legs, and tugged with some effort to pull it free.
Startled, the kitten left a black paw print on her white cloak before scampering away, revealing the hole in the wall.
Bending down, Gao Yuexing listened carefully. The faint sound of wind seemed to whistle through the opening.
Just then, a pair of jet-black eyes peered through from the other side of the wall, startling Gao Yuexing.
The owner of those eyes was clearly a child.
Half of his face was exceptionally youthful.
Gao Yuexing stepped back a little, her heart pounding like a drum. She clutched her chest, trying to calm herself.
But as she looked more closely, she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
The child was hugging his knees, crouched on the ground. He wasn’t wearing shoes, and his frail body was wrapped in a coarse cotton robe that didn’t fit, washed to the point of fading and patched repeatedly—barely sufficient to cover him. He looked terribly haggard and thin, his small face devoid of any flesh, with only a thin layer of skin stretched over his bones. His hair was a sickly shade of yellow, limp and lifeless, draped over his shoulders.
Yet even in such a sorry state, the natural elegance and charm in his features could not be concealed.
Gao Yuexing stared at him for a long time, unable to look away, even as her eyes stung and filled with tears. Large drops rolled down her cheeks, falling onto her hands before she hastily wiped her face in a fluster.
Finally, she saw him.
The one who had occupied her thoughts, haunted her dreams, and tethered her soul.
—The young Li Fuxiang.
For a moment, Gao Yuexing felt like she was dreaming.
She had known that Li Fuxiang’s childhood in the palace had been difficult, but she had never imagined it was so harsh it bordered on abuse.
She had envisioned countless ways their reunion might happen, but never had she imagined this bleak scenario.
His eyes were as clean and innocent as they had been in her dreams.
The two children stared at each other through the small hole in the wall.
Suddenly, he reached out his hand, pushing it through the wall with some difficulty, his fingertips brushing the tear-streaked skin beneath Gao Yuexing’s eyes.
Gao Yuexing grabbed his hand tightly.
In the past, she had loved entwining her fingers with her husband’s, locking hands in intimate companionship. The adult Li Fuxiang’s hands had never been particularly broad or strong. Outwardly, he didn’t seem like a commander of armies at all. Born prematurely, he had always suffered from chronic respiratory issues and poor health. Even with the emperor lavishing precious medicines on him for years in the capital, every military campaign would still take half his life. Each winter, before the first snow fell, his inevitable illness would arrive first.
Gao Yuexing forced herself not to dwell too deeply on the past, commanding her thoughts to return to the present.
She felt a struggle in her palm.
The young Li Fuxiang forcefully pulled his hand back, revealing crisscrossed red marks where her grip had been too tight.
Flustered, Gao Yuexing blurted, “I’m sorry…”
The boy ignored her apology. Lowering his gaze, he silently picked up a few pieces of broken stones and used them to block the hole in the wall, cutting off Gao Yuexing’s view.
He seemed angry.
Gao Yuexing turned and ran into the wind, her chest tightening, as a suffocating sensation surged over her like a rising tide.