Once I'd recovered from my illness, Anran invited me to meet at Tongde Pavilion. From childhood friends to sisters-in-arms, Anran hugged me and cried for ages before grilling me about my relationship with Jiang Rui. Blushing, I gave her the answer she wanted.
She took a swig of wine and grumbled, "I copied so many poems for Prince Lin because of you, only to find out you liked Prince Yan all along. You tricked me so badly!"
"What? Those sappy poems were from you?" I gaped.
"Of course!" Anran waved her hand proudly, then took another drink.
Wait, even if I'd asked Anran to write them, why would they be sent to Prince Lin? I was still confused.
"Anran?" I turned to her, only to find her already slumped over the table—one cup and she was out cold. I set aside my questions and called for the maids to help her to my carriage.
After settling Anran, I was about to board my own carriage when—
"Princess!" Chuntao screamed.
A sharp blow struck my head. Warm blood blurred my vision.
"Who—" I managed, before everything went black.
Blinding light forced my eyes open. My head throbbed, memories flickering by in a dizzying rush. At last, everything snapped into place.
Jiang Rui's eyes, bloodshot and wild with relief, hovered above me. "Yun'er, you're finally awake."
I felt stiff, as if I'd been away for years.
That day, the new emperor had ascended the throne. I'd been waiting to confess my feelings to Jiang Rui, only to be tripped on my way out of the palace.
But even after losing some memories, I still ended up married to him.
I glanced at Jiang Rui, recalling all my past boldness, and my cheeks burned. He misunderstood, thinking I was unwell, and reached out to check my forehead. But waking up as his wife was a lot to process, and I instinctively shied away.
His gaze shifted from disbelief to calm, then to dim resignation.
"Yun'er… your memory's back?"
How did he know I'd lost it? I nodded, about to explain, but he suddenly stood up. "I have things to handle. Rest well."
He was gone before I could stop him.
The next day, Lin Wanran was dragged before me, hands bound, evidence in hand. I cursed under my breath. She'd been released from prison by Prince Lin, who had no idea she still wanted to harm me.
"Why do you keep trying to hurt me?" I demanded.
Lin Wanran stared at me for a long time, then smiled coldly.
"You're really hard to kill, aren't you? Three times and you're still alive."
Three times?
She raised her voice. "Do you know what I hate most about you, Yun'er? You just sit there and everything falls into your lap. Why?"
She lifted her skirt, her face twisted with envy. "Birth, talent, beauty—what do I lack compared to you?"
I laughed. "That's no excuse to hurt people!"
She seemed to find this amusing. "So what? Even if I hurt you, what can you do? The child I carry has imperial blood."
Lin Wanran was utterly unrepentant, flaunting her crimes. I couldn't let her off.
I sat down, voice calm. "Let's see how your 'imperial blood' protects you."
She froze.
BANG! The door flew open.
I calmly picked up my tea.
Showtime.
"Daring to taint the imperial line—how bold!" Prince Lin stormed in, tossing a man to the floor.
"Your 'brother' has confessed, Lin Wanran, you wretch!"
A flicker of panic crossed Lin Wanran's face, but she quickly composed herself. "Your Highness, you must believe me—the child is yours! That man is just a jealous country bumpkin trying to ruin me!"
I set my teacup down and recited, "Tongde Pavilion, Lin family embroidery, red mandarin-duck corset."
With each word, Lin Wanran paled, collapsing to the floor.
Who would have guessed her so-called brother was actually her fiancé from the countryside? She'd tried to break off the engagement after coming to the capital, but he forced himself on her in revenge—and, desperate to save himself, he'd handed over the hidden corset as evidence.
Lin Wanran was dragged away, hollow-eyed.
Before she was gone, I called after Prince Lin, "Ruining a woman isn't any better—deal with him."
Lin Wanran broke free of the guards, shrieking, "Yun'er, I'll never thank you for this!"
I'd finally gotten justice, but felt no joy.
"Chuntao, is His Highness still busy?" I asked.
Chuntao dodged my gaze, but under my persistent questioning, finally nodded.
During my recovery, I sent Chuntao to invite Jiang Rui many times, but each time he declined, citing official duties. It had been eleven days since I last saw him. Today, I decided it was time for closure.
I barged into the study and confronted him. "Jiang Rui, are you avoiding me?"
"I'm not," he replied, eyes lowered.
I stood there, staring at him, refusing to look away. After a long silence, his voice came out hoarse: "The divorce papers are on the table." Without another word, he turned and left, leaving me feeling defeated and hollow as I returned to my courtyard.
Ever since I regained my memory, Jiang Rui's attitude toward me reverted to the distant politeness of the past. All those sweet days together now felt like a fleeting dream. Did he truly never care for me? Was our marriage only the result of my relentless pestering? Who would want to marry a woman who always bullied them?
I let out a self-mocking laugh. Bullying Jiang Rui was never my intention.
Our mothers, Lady Xu and Consort Jing, were lifelong friends. Jiang Rui and I grew up together, childhood playmates who gradually developed feelings for each other. But everything changed the day I overheard a secret: the late emperor, fearing my father would use our marriage to sway court politics, considered having Consort Jing executed to maintain balance among the ministers.
The ruthlessness of imperial power chilled me to the bone. Consort Jing had always treated me like a daughter. Determined to save her, I deliberately picked a fight with Jiang Rui that day.
"You ate the last hibiscus cake! That's unforgivable—I never want to see you again!"
For the next three years, every time I saw him, I'd find some excuse to be cold or even mean, hoping to convince the late emperor I'd lost interest. Only then did he drop his suspicions and spare Consort Jing. Ironically, the emperor died before issuing any decree, and the eldest prince—not Prince Lin—ascended the throne.
But those years of "bullying" had buried the feelings between Jiang Rui and me. I sighed, picked up my bundle, and prepared to leave.
Just as I stepped out, Jiang Rui appeared, visibly agitated. "Princess, are you planning to abandon your husband and child?"
"What child?" I scoffed—beside the point.
Wasn't the divorce what he wanted? Why act like the victim now?
I tried to walk past, but he grabbed my hand, his gaze locking onto my face, a mix of pain and joy in his eyes. "Yun'er, you hid the truth from me for so long. If your father hadn't slipped up, I'd never have known all those years you 'bullied' me were for my sake!"
Old habits die hard—I pinched him, seeing his eyes rimmed red. "You really suffered, didn't you?" I tried to pull away, but he held on even tighter.
"Jiang Rui, you don't even like me. Let me go."
He smiled—a dazzling, heartbreaking smile. "You're right. I don't like you."
My heart twisted, but before I could react, he pulled me into his arms, holding me tight.
He leaned down, whispering against my ear, "Because I love you."
I froze, my face burning. "You… you… what did you say?"
He turned me around, cupped my face, and looked into my eyes. "Yun'er, I love you."
His gaze was open, overflowing with emotion. I couldn't bear to look, so I lowered my eyes. "Then why did you avoid me in the study? Why did you want a divorce?"
He hugged me tighter, voice gentle. "I misunderstood. I was jealous. I thought… I thought you liked Prince Lin."
Thinking of those misleading letters I'd had Anran write, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "That was my fault. I let you misunderstand."
He shook his head. "No, I wasn't brave enough."
I blinked. "But I was always so mean to you."
He squeezed my hand, smiling softly. "That wasn't bullying. That was love."
He told me so much—how he'd longed to see me but feared I'd turn him away, how he couldn't bring himself to treat his bruises after I hit him. "All I ever wanted was to grow old with you."
The breeze blurred my vision, but it wasn't the wind making noise—it was my heart.