Days always passed with peculiar swiftness.As the weather turned colder, students at Guangwen Hall began preparing for the month-end examinations.
Boys prepared to launch their official careers, while girls showcased their talents to enhance their marriage prospects or catch the eye of families of equal standing.
This was the inevitable duty of noble children. Even a pampered girl like Feng Anning had begun studying diligently. Shen Qing and Shen Yue needed no mention—especially Shen Yue, who spent entire days in the east courtyard playing the zither and reciting poetry, hoping to make another grand impression.
Both Shen Qing and Shen Yue had reached fifteen, and according to custom, it was time they were matched with suitable families. In Ming Qi, girls could become engaged at fifteen and typically married at sixteen. The reason these two remained unengaged was simple: they were too selective. Ordinary matches were beneath them, while prestigious matches seemed somewhat presumptuous.
In the end, both families had, without prior consultation, set their sights on the same target—Prince Ding.
Among the late Emperor's nine sons, only the ninth, Prince Ding, remained unmarried. Just over twenty years old—precisely the right age for marriage. Yet due to various complications, the position of his princess consort remained undecided. Like a fragrant cake attracting bees, Prince Ding would serve as an examiner at this month's examination. Therefore, countless young ladies exerted themselves desperately, hoping to make a favorable impression before him, wishing he would fall in love at first sight.
Shen Miao harbored no such thoughts.
In this second life, she remained a woman unfamiliar with romance. She couldn't compose poetry or match couplets, couldn't play the zither or dance. She certainly couldn't stand on stage discussing court politics. Moreover, she had no desire to entangle herself with Prince Ding again.
In her previous life, Prince Ding had used her Shen family, murdered her children, and massacred her entire clan. This blood debt would be settled eventually. Given such an enmity, how could they possibly become husband and wife?
Feng Anning asked her, "Why aren't you studying? The month's end approaches. If you fall behind again, won't people laugh themselves silly?" After Shen Miao's fall into the water, she'd become much more reserved. Feng Anning had thought she'd suddenly gained insight, but now it seemed she was no different than before—still that foolish, ignorant student.
Shen Miao replied calmly, "Since I won't understand anyway, why waste the effort?"
Yi Peilan, listening from the side, burst into laughter. "You can't make a silk purse from a sow's ear—that's all there is to it."
Shen Yue conversed with Shen Qing nearby, pretending not to hear, offering no defense. These days, Shen Miao no longer tried to please them as before, which had displeased them greatly. They could hardly wait to see Shen Miao humiliate herself.
Shen Miao, however, seemed not to have heard Yi Peilan's words at all. She stood gracefully. "I'll take a walk in the garden."
After her departure, Yi Peilan sneered, "Running away because she has nothing to say—truly as timid as a mouse."
"Have you said enough?" Feng Anning frowned. "Are your studies so excellent?" She'd always commanded authority in Class Two and was pampered at home. Yi Peilan didn't want to offend her, so she fell silent.
Meanwhile, Shen Miao arrived at the garden and walked slowly among the paths.
Guangwen Hall was a place of refined elegance. The garden overflowed with lush woods and bamboo groves, ponds and rockeries, all arranged with delightful charm. Walking within, one could smell the forest's fragrance, refreshing the spirit.
She simply wanted solitude and quiet for a while. Class Two was full of impetuous children, while she—in her previous life—had even been a mother. As Empress, most days were spent receiving greetings from various consorts or remaining alone in her Phoenix Palace. Accustomed to cold solitude and emptiness, she was truly too weary to deal with children's clamor, whether ridicule or mockery.
None of it mattered to her anyway.
As she walked, a snow-white rice ball appeared before her.
The little ball, dressed in an ivory satin robe, stood beneath the bamboo. The clothes should have looked beautiful, but his round figure rendered them somewhat misshapen. And the little topknot atop his head made him appear rather comical and endearing.
"Su Minglang," she said softly.
The little ball heard her and hurriedly turned around. Looking at Shen Miao, a trace of delight flashed in his eyes. He seemed to want to rush toward her but hesitated, standing still and gazing at her without speaking.
This child looked like a four or five-year-old infant. Shen Miao felt a slight headache. Could he be mistaking her for his mother?
Su Minglang stared at Shen Miao, pursing his lips as if wanting to speak, yet remained silent. Then his eyes reddened, and he murmured softly in a sweet voice, "I'm sorry..."
I'm sorry? Shen Miao felt slightly startled. She watched as the little ball's mouth drooped downward, looking so aggrieved he seemed about to burst into tears.
The next second, a lazy voice drifted through the air.
"So it was you."
The words carried a note of dangerous amusement, freezing the moment like a blade drawn slowly from its sheath.
Next
.jpeg)
.jpeg)