Chapter Thirty-Nine

Since Shen Wan was taken away from the Eastern Palace, she had vanished as if swallowed by the earth, leaving no trace behind. She was neither returned to the palace nor was a single word about her whereabouts disclosed to the Crown Prince. It was as if she had never existed there at all, as though she had been swallowed by an unfathomable black hole, disappearing completely from everyone’s sight.

A subtle unease stirred in the Crown Prince’s heart, a nameless anxiety that clung to him relentlessly, making him restless and uneasy. Yet, strangely, the Emperor neither unleashed the storm of rage the Crown Prince had anticipated nor immediately took any punitive action. This unusual calm shrouded the court in a fog of confusion, deepening his bewilderment.

The political arena remained as treacherous as ever. Leng Yichen was like a fierce bird of prey locked onto its target, relentlessly attacking the Crown Prince without a hint of respite. In every court debate, his words were sharp and pointed, striking directly at the Crown Prince’s vulnerabilities, allowing no room to breathe. Even the Emperor had abandoned his usual leniency, harshly reprimanding the Crown Prince in court. His words were like gleaming blades, mercilessly piercing the Crown Prince’s heart, bluntly declaring that he was “unworthy of his position.” The chilling authority in the Emperor’s voice struck like heavy hammers, leaving the Crown Prince dizzy and barely able to stand.

Yet just when the Crown Prince thought he was about to plunge into an abyss, the Emperor finally issued an edict. The decree stated that since autumn, the northern frontier had been ravaged by a devastating locust plague, leaving the people in unbearable suffering and the land desolate. To give the Crown Prince a chance to redeem himself, he was ordered to depart immediately to the northern frontier to lead the disaster relief efforts.

After court adjourned, the Crown Prince dared not relax for even a moment. After making the necessary preparations, he was eager to set out on the relief mission. Deep down, he clung to a childish hope—if he could manage the relief efforts efficiently and restore peace and prosperity to the people of the north, perhaps the Emperor would forgive him, allowing his position in the Eastern Palace to remain secure and all turmoil to subside.

At the moment of departure, the Crown Prince glanced back at the capital, his eyes still filled with naive hope. He foolishly believed that the Emperor’s decision was out of care, meant to shield him from the dangerous intrigues of court. He optimistically thought that although Leng Yichen’s attacks were fierce, as an elder, he would surely relent after the Crown Prince had endured hardship and accomplished his task. Surely, Leng Yichen would not continue to obsess over trivial past matters once he returned from this arduous journey.

Yet fate quietly laid a cruel trap at this very moment. Unaware, the Crown Prince was stepping onto a path of no return, never again to set foot in the familiar yet alien capital.

At dawn, a thin mist cloaked the mountains like a delicate veil, wrapping the entire world in a quiet hush. Shen Ningshuang sat in a small sedan chair, winding along the mountain paths until she reached a mid-mountain Buddhist temple.

Though modest in scale, the temple exuded a solemn and sacred aura. Its green-tiled roofs and white walls, bathed in morning light, radiated an ancient charm. The upturned eaves and elaborately carved brackets resembled a great roc about to take flight—graceful yet dignified. In front of the temple stood several ancient pines and cypresses, standing tall and proud like loyal guardians of this sacred place. A woman, with a poised figure as straight as a pine, dressed in simple monastic robes, rhythmically struck a wooden fish. The crisp, melodious sound echoed through the tranquil forest like a clear mountain spring, cleansing the spirit.

Shen Ningshuang stepped lightly into the temple, lifting her chin slightly to survey the surroundings with a complicated expression in her eyes. Then her gaze fell upon the woman’s back. After a long pause, she finally spoke softly, “Mother...”

The wooden fish struck ceased abruptly, as though held silent by an invisible hand. Yet the woman did not rise immediately, instead replying calmly, “You’re still as stubborn as ever, refusing to accept fate. The Buddhas above, and yet you don’t even offer them a bow in respect.” Her voice was gentle but tinged with resignation, as if long accustomed to Shen Ningshuang’s obstinacy.

“You pay your respects every day, Mother, but what have you truly gained?” Shen Ningshuang frowned slightly, her tone questioning. She could not fathom the meaning behind her mother’s pious devotion.

The woman did not answer, as if lost in thought, no longer responding, as if the world around her no longer mattered and she had retreated into her own realm.

“Mother, you should return to the mansion. That Shen Wan...” Shen Ningshuang tried to change the subject, hoping to break the deadlock.

“I know.” The woman interrupted, her voice still calm. “I have long known the origins of those three girls.” Her words were brief but seemed laden with endless secrets.

“Then why...” Shen Ningshuang asked eagerly, eyes full of confusion, desperate for answers.

“Ningshuang, I know your father never betrayed me. You must want to know why, so I can tell you now that you’re grown.” The woman rose slowly, turning to face her daughter. Her face showed signs of weariness, yet her gentle grace remained intact.

“Your father and I fell in love at first sight, a love story for the ages. At that time, we saw only each other, as if the whole world had shrunk to just us. But with your father’s status, to marry only one woman for life was an impossible dream. We thought we were prepared, but reality was far more complicated.”

She lifted her gaze toward the temple’s vaulted ceiling, as if recalling a distant, unforgettable past.

“Countless royal relatives and clan elders tried to make your father take concubines. He bore unimaginable pressure and refused time and again, offending many. In the end, I realized that to him, I was not a help but a burden and a chain.”

A flicker of sadness passed through her eyes, like a wounded bird.

She paused before continuing, “When the late Emperor passed, the current Emperor sent the Empress Dowager and Empress to imprison me and your brother in the palace, threatening your father’s loyalty. I believe that if your father had been alone, he would have risked everything to restore justice. But he was not alone; he had a fatal weakness.”

“His weakness was me and your brother. So even if he bore the name of betrayal, he ultimately acted against his true will. Child, love can take many forms—it does not always mean lifelong companionship. Sometimes, to love is to sacrifice oneself to protect the other.”

Her eyes shone with unwavering resolve, as if imparting a profound truth about life.