The noble girl is beautiful.

Snow had fallen for half the day, and by evening, the rooftops and courtyards were covered in white. Hua Mei entered the room and lit the lamps, while Du Juan was in the inner chamber preparing the bed, warming it with a bed warmer, and laying a silk quilt neatly over it.

Hua Mei brought over the mirror and carefully arranged her hair. She said to Shen Yourong, “Miss, today is my sworn sister’s birthday. I’m going to have a few drinks with her and will stay there tonight.”

Shen Yourong agreed, sitting by the heater with needlework in hand. She instructed her to select two gold hairpins and a piece of red silk from the cabinet to bring as gifts for her sister. “Go ahead, but make sure to dress warmly and don’t catch a cold.”

Hua Mei acknowledged and packed the items into a bundle. After exchanging a few words with Du Juan, she left with a lantern in hand.

Du Juan finished preparing the bed and hung a newly made sachet on the bed curtains. She looked at Shen Yourong and said, “Miss, it’s getting late. You should stop with the needlework.”

Shen Yourong was making a hand warmer. Ever since Shen Qingyan’s return, she had suddenly taken up needlework again, almost obsessively.

“I’m almost done,” she replied, gently stroking the embroidered fabric, lost in thought.

Du Juan approached to persuade her, “Miss, it’s time to rest.”

She helped her undo her hair and change out of her clothes. Feeling unsettled, Shen Yourong held onto her and said, “You should sleep with me tonight. Let someone else keep watch outside.”

Du Juan agreed. The two lay down together on the intricately carved bed. Shen Yourong leaned against the pillow, her fingers playing with the sachet hanging at the bedside. The maid outside, noticing the quiet inside, lifted the glass cover, blew out the candle, and settled down on a small bed in the outer room.

As Du Juan lowered the bed curtains and tucked in the quilt for Shen Yourong, she asked, “Miss, aren’t you going to sleep?”

Shen Yourong propped her head up with one hand, her bright eyes gazing at the top of the curtains. “I can’t sleep.”

Du Juan laughed and asked, “What’s troubling you, Miss? Is something on your mind?”

Shen Yourong looked at her and said, “It’s not just a worry—there’s someone too.”

Startled, Du Juan said, “Miss…”

Shen Yourong replied, “I’m just telling you.”

Du Juan’s heart softened, and she said, “Whatever it is, Miss, I’m here to listen. I won’t breathe a word to anyone else.”

“I trust you,” Shen Yourong said, “but there are some things I don’t even know how to start talking about.”

She sighed deeply.

Du Juan was older than her and had grown up with her. Shen Yourong had faced many hardships before becoming the graceful and respected lady she was now. When they were young, before Shen Yourong became so well-regarded, she had endured many grievances.

Sometimes, Du Juan wished that Shen Yourong’s current grace and poise were just an act, so that, in private, she could be more carefree, like Shen Qingyan.

“Last year around this time, I gave him a hand warmer,” Shen Yourong said.

“I remember,” Du Juan said. “It was such a beautifully crafted piece, with bamboo leaves embroidered so vividly they seemed to sway in the wind. You worked on it for a long time.”

Shen Yourong continued softly, “At that time, I asked him if he had ambitions for the throne. He admitted it, and I was so frightened that I hurriedly ran away.”

She chuckled, “But in my heart, I still couldn’t let go of him. So I went back and told him that the Fourth Prince wasn’t going to marry me anymore. I asked him what he thought about it.”

Du Juan laughed, “What did he say?”

“He said, ‘What does that have to do with me?’” Shen Yourong huffed, still feeling a bit wronged when she recalled it. “After that, I didn’t dare consider marriage anymore.”

Du Juan smoothed her hair and said, “Miss, I think you’re just a little scared of him. I don’t see how he’s any different from anyone else.”

“Really?” Shen Yourong held her face in her hands, her pale fingers resting on her cheeks, her expression as radiant as spring flowers.

“I want to give it a try,” she said. “Not for him, but for myself. I like him, and for my own heart, I want to be with him.”

Du Juan remained silent for a moment before saying, “As long as you’re happy, Miss, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Shen Yourong smiled, her eyes bright as she looked at her. “I want to see him. I want to see him right now!”

Du Juan said, “Then I’ll send someone tomorrow to arrange it.”

Shen Yourong pondered, “What should I say to him? What if he doesn’t like me anymore?”

Du Juan teased, “How could that be? Miss, you’ve always been so perceptive. How are you suddenly blind to the affection in the prince’s eyes?”

Shen Yourong laughed, and the two continued chatting quietly until, filled with anticipation for seeing him soon, Shen Yourong gradually fell asleep.

In the middle of the night, the weather suddenly changed. Thunder and lightning split the dark sky, with purple flashes streaking across the heavens, illuminating the earth as if it were daytime.

A loud crash of thunder woke Shen Yourong. Outside, the courtyard was filled with noise.

Du Juan held her close. “Don’t be afraid, Miss. I’ll go check it out.”

She threw on a silver fur coat and slipped on her shoes before stepping out into the outer room. “What’s going on?” she asked.

A servant woman outside replied, “It’s just the thunder.”

Thunder in winter was indeed unusual. Du Juan tightened her coat, lifted the curtain, and went outside, where she saw maids and servants rushing about with lanterns, looking flustered. She sent someone to find out what was happening, and they quickly returned to say that a tree in the garden had been struck by lightning.

Before long, another maid reported that the fire had been extinguished and that the madam had ordered everyone to return to bed, saying that any matters could be discussed in the morning.

Du Juan acknowledged this, rubbed her hands together for warmth, and returned inside.

Shen Yourong was sitting up in bed, looking through the curtains. “What happened?” she asked.

“Nothing serious,” Du Juan replied. “A tree in the garden was struck by lightning and caught fire, but it’s been put out.”

Shen Yourong remarked, “Thunder in winter is indeed rare.”

Du Juan poured some hot tea from the stove and handed it to her. “Have a sip, Miss, and go back to sleep. The night is still long.”

Shen Yourong nodded, took a sip, and lay back down, but her heart was restless. It took her a long time to fall asleep again.

The next morning, as she got up to wash, several servants came in carrying rolls of red silk. She asked, “What’s this for?”

One of them answered, “The madam ordered it. We’re supposed to hang red silk in high places around the courtyard to ward off bad luck.”

Shen Yourong motioned for Du Juan to accept the silk and see the servants out.

Du Juan returned and said, “I’ll have the ladder brought out and get the silk hung up right away.”

Shen Yourong nodded. She stood by the window, brushing her hair, watching as young maids climbed ladders to tie the red silk to high places—the swing, the soapberry tree, the columns flanking the main hall. In the bleak winter light, the red silk stood out like a burst of flame.

“Enough of those elaborate decorations,” Shen Yourong said. “Just pin a few jade hairpins instead.”

She changed into a yellow-green long coat and a tea-brown skirt. Once she was ready, she went to visit the old Lady.

Shen Qinghan was already there and rose to greet her when she entered. The two paid their respects to the old lady and then moved to the small flower hall for breakfast.

The maids brought in a light meal—several small dishes, shrimp cakes, and a large bowl of duck slices in porridge. Shen Yourong and Shen Qinghan dined together while listening to the old Lady talk with the elder madams through the screen.

She was discussing the inauspiciousness of winter thunder, saying that it signaled turmoil—disrupting the natural order and heralding unrest, corruption, and disaster.

At Donglin Temple, in front of the main hall, all the monks sat chanting in unison. The sound of the bells and chanting carried far into the distance.

Ji Zhuo, wrapped in a white fur cloak, stood watching an old plum tree by the courtyard wall. The tree had been struck by last night’s lightning, half of it charred black. Yet, on the remaining branches, red plum blossoms bloomed defiantly. The blackened bark and the bright red flowers embodied both the harshness and intensity of life.

Changming approached him from behind and said, “Your Highness, someone is here to deliver a letter.”

Ji Zhuo took the letter, which was still warm, and broke the seal to read it.

A faint smile appeared on his lips as he murmured, “Winter thunder, falling plum blossoms—perfect timing.”
He absently stroked the hand warmer and said, “What about the rumors in the city?”

“They’ve started spreading,” Changming replied, “and they’re growing more intense. It seems we’re not the only ones fueling the fire.”

Ji Zhuo lowered his gaze. “It’s the Crown Prince.”

The winter thunder was an ominous sign. The emperor, being proud, was unwilling to issue an edict of self-blame. The only option was to conduct a sacrifice to heaven. However, the emperor was old, and the ceremony was cumbersome and exhausting. Moreover, many elderly people couldn’t survive the winter, so care had to be taken with their health. Thus, the task of performing the sacrifice had to be delegated to the Crown Prince.

The Crown Prince orchestrating this was clearly trying to gain favor and prestige at the emperor’s expense.

Changming commented, “The Crown Prince does not share his father’s concerns.”

Ji Zhuo smiled, though it was unclear whether it was a smile of scorn or pity.

Chang Su suddenly entered the courtyard and approached him, saying, “His Majesty has summoned the Prince to the palace.”

Changming frowned. “Do you know what it’s about?”

Chang Su said, “The Emperor mentioned that the Prince is well-read and has been asked to consult with the officials from the Bureau of Astronomical Phenomena to assess the omens.”

Ji Zhuo’s expression remained calm, but his demeanor turned icy, causing those around him to hesitate.

Seeing this, Changming quickly said, “Prince, if you’re going to the palace, you should change into another set of clothes first. These were just made by the young lady, and you wouldn’t want to get them dirty.”

Ji Zhuo paused, and his eyes suddenly softened. “Indeed.”

Shen Yourong had given him a set of clothes through Shen Shuo. Ji Zhuo, being perceptive, quickly noticed her kindness. If it weren’t for today’s matter, he might have been in high spirits for a long time, and those attending to him would have found their duties easier.

Changming sighed inwardly and followed him into the palace.