Chapter Fifteen: A Perfect Match

"Binghui, how's the matter I asked you to do last time? Father has been away from home these past few days, have you heard anything from him?" Huairou skipped and hopped as she waited for Binghui at the Prime Minister's residence, her voice clear and melodious like a wind chime, her eyes brimming with anticipation. This was Binghui's second year serving in the Secretariat, and he stood tall and elegant in his blue robe, his demeanor increasingly composed.

"Huairou, what brings you here?" Binghui greeted her with a smile, inviting her into the inner courtyard. He knew she had come about border trade, but he deliberately teased her. Huairou feigned anger, lightly stamping her foot: "Now that you have an official position, even I have to be teased!" Her tone was coquettish, just as it always was.

Years had passed, and the Lu family had actually put the marriage proposal on their agenda. When Binghui looked at Huairou, his eyes naturally held a tenderness that was different from before. This time, Huairou unusually asked him for help, and Binghui had thought it over carefully before subtly informing his father of the proposal. With his father's secret intervention, the matter was able to proceed smoothly.

Months had passed since they last met, and Huairou's thoughts seemed to constantly revolve around the Seventh Prince. Binghui felt a pang of sadness, thinking that if the Seventh Prince were to travel to the Northern Border sooner, Huairou might be able to return to his side sooner. Perhaps it was time for her to understand his feelings.

“Huairou,” Binghui called softly, “come here.”

Huairou obediently approached, leaned over the table, and gazed at him with her bright, watery eyes.

"The Emperor has already granted permission for border trade. Do you know why?"

Upon hearing that things had gone smoothly, Huairou was overjoyed and gently tugged at his sleeve: "Thank you, Binghui, this must be thanks to you."

Binghui smiled without saying a word, his folding fan twirling lightly, but his gaze never left her for a moment. "Minister Guo also seconded this proposal and recommended that the Seventh Prince go north to oversee trade."

Upon hearing this, Huairou knew that he had already seen through her thoughts. Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she smiled evasively, saying, "Going north is a tough job. If the Seventh Prince goes, he will probably suffer just like my brother."

Binghui gazed at her brow, his voice growing gentler: "Huairou, I don't know why you insisted on helping the Seventh Prince go north, even getting several ministers to jointly remonstrate. However, since the Seventh Prince is going to the border as you wish, you... should return to my side."

Huairou wasn't stupid; in fact, she knew Binghui far too well. She had known him for over a decade since he was still Moli, and had long been accustomed to having him in her life. Whether in her past life or this one, though they may not have shared the passionate joy of young love, she always remembered the deep affection between husband and wife. She also remembered her brother Qiyu's parting words—"In this life, I hope you find a good man and live a peaceful life."

Perhaps it was fate, or perhaps it was because Moli was now a mother and had less attachment to romantic love. In this unexpected turn of events, she saw her deceased "son" again, and found herself in the capital with Binghui, from a prominent family, living a life of comfort and ease. All of this, perhaps, was just as her brother had described as a "perfect match."

She remained silent for a moment, her eyes seeming to hold a thousand words, but in the end she simply nodded gently, a tender yet complex smile playing on her lips.