The maidservant trembled with fear, not daring to lift her head, her whole body stiff and unable to move.

She thought she had said something wrong.

The adult and Princess Mingyi have always been at odds, and the two even dislike each other so much that they have never met.

The princess disliked the official very much. She summoned him several times, brought him to the palace, and then left him waiting for several hours before sending a eunuch to dismiss him with a casual remark: "The princess is busy, please come another day."

"This servant misspoke; perhaps this servant misread it. Please forgive me, sir."

Under the flickering golden light, his pale skin made him appear even more aloof, and his cold eyes were sharper than ever before. He took out a handkerchief, "Whose handkerchief is this?"

The maid took a deep breath, her chest tightening from the invisible pressure that pressed down on her, rendering her speechless. She opened her mouth, but dared not repeat herself, nor dared she lie.

So the maid whispered, "Princess Ming... Princess Mingyi."

They stumbled and stammered, not daring to make a loud sound.

The man clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His face remained stern and cold. "You're not mistaken?"

"If you dare to talk nonsense..."

The maid knelt down and kowtowed, hurriedly explaining, "This servant dares not speak nonsense. This servant used to be a maid serving in the Empress's palace. Last Mid-Autumn Festival, the Empress gave this servant to you, sir."

“This servant remembers clearly that only Her Highness the Princess’s handkerchief is double-sided embroidered.”

The embroidery is exquisite and the patterns are rare.

Her Highness the Princess is extremely fond of these exquisite and rare little trinkets.

The atmosphere was cold and unwelcoming.

There was a long silence.

The kneeling maid kept her head down, not daring to raise it. After a long time, she still didn't hear a sound.

He cautiously raised his head and took a look.

The adult's face seemed somewhat broken; he clenched his handkerchief tightly, and his whole body seemed unsteady.

The man's voice was hoarse, "Go to the palace."

"Call Zhao Ji back."

He spoke each word slowly and deliberately, his movements extremely stiff.

"Go now!" the man suddenly roared. The maids and servants around him were terrified and immediately went to the palace to find someone.

The man closed his eyes briefly, seemingly in despair. Princess Mingyi… how could it be Princess Mingyi…

He had dealt with her several times, but they had never met.

If we both dislike each other, it's easier to avoid seeing each other.

In the eyes of the cold-blooded regent, Princess Mingyi was an arrogant, domineering, and somewhat foolish person.

She always enjoyed teasing him, and wanted to kill him, but couldn't bring herself to do it.

Unable to find fault with him, unable to find any leverage against him, and with no way to do anything to him openly and honestly, they finally came up with the stupid idea of ​​having someone assassinate him.

He never imagined that the person he was looking for would have any connection with Princess Mingyi.

He didn't take her little tricks seriously; he simply didn't want to waste any more time with her.

The man leaned against the doorpost, the color draining from his face bit by bit. Sunlight swept across his pale profile, his taut jawline cold and hard. He recalled that he and Princess Mingyi had met before.

Spring encirclement six months ago.

As he stepped into the hunting grounds, the sound of galloping hooves gradually grew closer from afar. A graceful figure could be seen in the distance: a young girl sat on a horse, brandishing a long whip. The wind whipped her long, black hair high in the air. Her face was veiled. She seemed to pass by him like a gust of wind, as if she hadn't seen him at all, yet it was as if she had deliberately struck him hard with her whip.

That figure from behind.

It should have been blurred.

Now that I think about it, it's crystal clear.

Mingyi… Mingyi…

After an unknown amount of time, the attendant, whose horse had run itself to death, returned to report: "My lord, Chief Steward Zhao sent me to report that the major threat to the palace has been eliminated, so you need not trouble yourself with such a trivial matter."

The surroundings were deathly silent, so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The swirling snow seemed to him as a crimson expanse, and a metallic taste rose in his throat. He swallowed it silently and pursed the crimson from the corner of his lips.

In his dream, Zhou Ji was no longer the one who stood by indifferently. He seemed to be trapped inside the man's body, and he could clearly feel his calm yet gradually turbulent emotions, which finally returned to deathly stillness.

It's like plain water with no flavor being boiled until it's scalding hot, and then gradually cooling down.

My chest felt so tight that even breathing became difficult, and the pain made me bend over slightly, but it felt like I could never straighten up again.

Mingyi… Mingyi…

The two words hovered on his lips, but he couldn't utter a sound.

When Zhou Ji woke up, he didn't look well. His face was pale, and although he had just woken up, he didn't look very soft. Instead, the person in the mirror looked sharp, with cold eyes and an expressionless face.

He also really wanted to know what was going on.

Sometimes he felt like he was that taciturn man in his dreams.

Sometimes he felt he wouldn't do that.

He subconsciously didn't want to admit it.

Coming to his senses, Zhou Ji's gaze lingered on her soft, delicate face, and he was now even more certain of her identity.

The existence of ghosts and superhumans may sound unbelievable, but it's not that hard to accept.

No matter who she is, once he has her, there's no escaping her. Not even a god could take her away.

Zhou Ji suddenly spoke up: "This name sounds very nice."

It seemed like just an ordinary compliment.

It doesn't have any profound meaning.

Jiang Yue tensed her thin back, feeling somewhat uncomfortable all over. In an instant, she suddenly remembered the scene she had witnessed.

Standing before her tombstone, Zhou Fuwei said softly, "The name Mingyi sounds beautiful; it suits you perfectly."

Jiang Yue suddenly felt a chill run down her spine. Could there really be such coincidences in this world?

She looked up, staring blankly at Zhou Ji. The man lowered his eyes, his expression serene, his emotions completely hidden, making it impossible to discern his joy or anger.

He asked, "What's wrong?"

Jiang Yue replied stiffly, "Nothing much."

On the way back, Jiang Yue, unusually, didn't doze off; her mind was filled with random thoughts.

I originally planned to pretend I was deaf and dumb and not ask any questions.

She changed her mind: "Why call me Mingyi?"

Zhou Ji sat upright beside him, his hands folded and casually resting on his lap. He made up a lie without changing his expression: "I saw it in your notebook. I thought it was your nickname, and I thought it sounded nice, so I called you that."

Zhou Ji's acting skills were superb; he really acted convincingly, not at all like he was lying.

The man's eyes held a deep, all-seeing darkness. He calmly retorted, "Isn't that so? Then I'll be more careful in the future."

Jiang Yue only dared to believe half of what he said, but her serious expression did ease a little.

"It's my nickname, only my parents can call me that, you can't."

After a brief silence, the man said in a low voice, "Okay."

Zhou Ji withdrew his gaze and absentmindedly looked ahead. The dark sky seemed to gradually overlap with the memorial tablet—"My wife Mingyi."

Did she know that she...died at sixteen?