However, even the most vibrant spring must eventually come to an end. The wisteria blossoms began to fall, and slender bean pods appeared on the branches. An'an keenly noticed that her grandparents were packing their luggage more often, and there was something in their eyes that she didn't quite understand—a feeling called "reluctance to part."

Finally, on another evening with a sky full of sunset colors, after dinner, the Emperor Emeritus held An'an and sat on the soft couch by the window. Pointing to the magnificent clouds on the horizon, he said in as gentle a tone as possible, "An'an, Grandpa and Grandma are going to see the scenery in another place in a couple of days."

An'an was playing with a warm jade pendant on the Emperor Emeritus's waist when she heard this. Her little body stiffened abruptly, and she raised her head. Her big eyes instantly filled with tears, like a startled fawn: "Grandpa Beard and Grandma...are you leaving?" Her voice trembled with disbelief.

The Empress sat down on the other side with a tender expression, pulling the little one into her arms, and explained softly, "Yes, my dear grandson. Grandpa and Grandma, like An'an, also love to travel and play. When our An'an's little brother or sister is born," she gently touched Shen Yuewei's swollen belly, "Grandpa and Grandma will definitely hurry back to see An'an and our little baby as soon as possible, okay?"

"Oh no!" An'an's tears fell with a "plop," her little mouth pouting, looking extremely aggrieved. Her little hands tightly gripped the Emperor Emeritus's clothes. "An'an doesn't want Grandpa and Grandma to leave! An'an still wants to ride a big horse! Still wants to plant flowers! Still wants to see the big white goose!" The more she spoke, the sadder she became, her little shoulders trembling, and large tears rolled down, hitting the Emperor Emeritus's hand, burning his heart.

A rare look of helplessness and heartache appeared on the Emperor Emeritus's dignified face. He awkwardly wiped away An'an's tears with his large hands, the rough fingertips scraping against her delicate skin, only making her cry harder. He could only hold his little granddaughter tighter in his arms, clumsily coaxing her, "An'an, don't cry, don't cry... Grandpa promises, I'll be back soon! I'll bring An'an... bring her the best candied hawthorns in the capital! I'll bring her... bring her a little clay doll that can do somersaults!" He racked his brains for things to say to the child; the emperor who usually commanded the court with such authority appeared clumsy yet sincere at this moment.

The Empress's eyes also reddened. She gently cupped An'an's little face in her hands and carefully wiped away the tears with her handkerchief. Her voice was so gentle it could melt water: "An'an, my dear, my precious darling. I can't bear to part with you either. Look," she pointed to the jasmine seedlings in the courtyard outside the window, which An'an had "personally planted," "Emperor Grandma and Emperor Grandpa are gone, but An'an's little flowers are still here. An'an will help Empress Grandma take good care of them, water them, and watch them grow and bloom, okay? When they bloom, they'll smell so sweet, and when Empress Grandma smells the fragrance, she'll know that our An'an misses her."

An'an sobbed, her eyes blurry with tears as she looked at the Empress, then at the seedlings swaying gently in the evening breeze outside the window. Her crying gradually subsided, turning into a plaintive whimper. She stretched out her little finger and hooked it with the Empress's pinky, her voice thick with emotion: "Pinky promise... Grandma, you keep your word... When the flowers bloom... I'll come back..."

"Alright! Pinky promise, a hundred years from now!" The Empress immediately extended her little finger, solemnly hooking it with her granddaughter's, and gave it a vigorous shake. Seeing this, the Emperor Emeritus also quickly extended his calloused little finger, awkwardly leaning forward: "And Grandpa Emperor! Count him in too!"

Watching the three generations solemnly make a pinky promise, Shen Yuewei nestled beside Xiao Chengjing, her eyes welling up with tears, yet a gentle smile played on her lips. Xiao Chengjing put his arm around her shoulder, his large hand gently stroking her arm, offering silent comfort.

On the day of their departure, dawn was just breaking. The carriage was already prepared in front of the Prince Jing's residence. An'an was held tightly in Shen Yuewei's arms, her little face taut, her large eyes brimming with tears, yet she bravely held them back. She clutched a small brocade bundle tightly to her chest.

The Emperor Emeritus and the Empress walked over. The Empress bent down and kissed An'an's forehead, then hugged Shen Yuewei and whispered, "Take good care of yourself and the baby. We await your good news." The Emperor Emeritus patted Xiao Chengjing's shoulder, his meaning unspoken.

"An'an," the Emperor Emeritus bent down, looking at his granddaughter's red eyes, and tried to make his voice sound lighter, "Grandpa is leaving. Listen to your father and mother."

An'an suddenly broke free from her mother's embrace and ran to the Emperor Emeritus. She stuffed the small bundle in her arms into his hands, her small voice trembling with tears, yet exceptionally clear: "Grandpa Beard... here! An'an's flowers!" A corner of the bundle unfurled, revealing several clusters of heavy wisteria blossoms still glistening with morning dew. She had pestered Chunxing to pick them for her early that morning.