“Have a seat.”

Wen Chan turned and gestured for Pei Rusong to sit opposite her.

Reuniting under such circumstances, both of them could guess most of the story, so there was no need to pretend to be strangers. Wen Chan was still dressed as a young maiden, but her demeanor had naturally returned to the same calm composure as in her past life. Pei Rusong stared at her fixedly, the corners of his eyes gradually turning red.

“Why are you crying?” Wen Chan couldn’t help but laugh. “There's a group of people watching outside. You're making it seem like I'm bullying you.”

Pei Rusong turned his face away and blinked hard, seemingly trying to suppress his tears, but it had the opposite effect. His eyes were naturally elegant and long, slanting upwards at the corners, giving him a sharp, disdainful look. But now, they were brimming with unshed tears, leaving only a heart-wrenching pitiableness. Moreover, to disguise his identity, he was only wearing a plain white robe without any patterns or embroidery, which further accentuated his pale, thin appearance, making him look like a haggard and downcast noble scion.

Seeing him press his lips together, struggling to hold back his tears, Wen Chan's heart finally softened, and her tone gentled a little. “Why put yourself through this? You've already died once. What is there that you can't let go of...”

“Your Highness says that so lightly.” Not only was Pei Rusong not comforted, he became even angrier. “True. Your Highness is decisive in killing. You can even use your own life in a scheme. You can let go whenever you say so. How could a humble person like myself dare to compare with Your Highness? I'm afraid that in Your Highness's eyes, everyone else is just a bunch of useless cowards who cling to life and groan without being sick.”

Wen Chan: “Did you go to all that trouble to sneak into the Princess Manor just to dredge up old scores from our last life with me?”

Pei Rusong: “...”

He choked with anger, took a deep breath, and barely managed to steady his voice before continuing, “Your Highness remembers, and so do I. How can one separate the past life from the present? If I hadn't come looking for you today, was Your Highness planning to pretend this never happened and just let everything in the past slide?!”

“The past is the past. We've been reborn. Whether you and I want it or not, the past is already behind us,” Wen Chan said. “So, you're throwing a tantrum at me because you weren't chosen as the Prince Consort, is that it?”

Pei Rusong: “...”

'Even if you guessed it, would someone just say it so bluntly?'

“No!” Pei Rusong flatly denied. “I just discovered that the course of this life had changed and guessed that Your Highness might also have been reborn. So, I went through various channels to get an introduction, simply wanting to confirm the truth.”

Wen Chan gave a half-smiling “Oh.” “Young Master Pei truly has powerful connections, able to get my uncle the Prince of Dan and the Grand Princess to pull strings for you. Many imperial relatives and nobles don't have that much clout.”

Pei Rusong shot her a reproachful glance and said with a straight face, “The Prince of Dan is fond of painting, calligraphy, and music, and he treats worthy men with respect. I was fortunate enough to win his favor in my youth. This time, I owe him a great debt, which I will certainly repay handsomely in the future.”

The faint redness in his eyes gradually faded. Wen Chan secretly breathed a sigh of relief and tried to steer his attention back to the main topic. “Which day did you come back?”

“The seventh day of the twelfth lunar month,” Pei Rusong said. “And Your Highness?”

He didn't miss the flicker of surprise on Wen Chan's face. “Also the seventh of the twelfth lunar month?”

Wen Chan frowned. “That's strange. We died many years apart. If we were to be reincarnated, I should have been before you. How could we be reborn on the same day?” She stared at Pei Rusong suspiciously. “Could it be that you—”

This time it was Pei Rusong's turn to sigh. He said softly, “Let me start from the beginning, Your Highness.”

“That autumn, the Prince of Yan received Your Highness's handwritten letter ordering him back to the capital to protect you. Without the slightest suspicion, he immediately led his troops toward the Capital City, encountering no obstacles along the way. Outside the capital, we met with Partridge, who was responsible for receiving us. He carried Your Highness's personal edict, telling us to wait for the signal to act before entering the city.”

“That night, the Imperial Guard set fire to Ciyun Temple. The Prince of Yue's conspiracy to force the abdication, rebel, and assassinate Your Highness was exposed. Only then did everyone understand that this was the perfectly justifiable reason Your Highness had prepared for the Prince of Yan to deploy his troops.”

“Everything was within Your Highness's calculations. The Prince of Yan entered the capital to eliminate the rebel army. All of the Imperial Guard, except for the Left Valiant Cavalry Army, submitted to the Prince of Yan. The Son of Heaven was gravely ill, imprisoned in Herui Palace by Consort Yu and the Prince of Yue. After being rescued, he immediately summoned all civil and military officials, issued an edict in court, and announced his abdication in favor of the Prince of Yan.”

“The Prince of Yan executed the Prince of Yue and his faction, ascended the throne smoothly, changed the era name to Dingxing, posthumously honored Your Highness as the State-Guarding Grand Princess, and rebuilt Ciyun Temple in commemoration.”

“He was a good emperor who lived up to Your Highness's expectations. He reigned for nine years, diligently governing the state. The borders were stable, the surrounding tribes submitted, and the common people of the realm lived and worked in peace.”

“Wait a moment,” Wen Chan interrupted him in disbelief. “What do you mean, ‘reigned for nine years’?”

Pei Rusong lowered his eyelids, his long lashes half-covering his pupils, his expression inexplicably gloomy. “Exactly what it means literally.”

“The Prince of Yan... no, I should call him the Late Emperor now. The empire the Late Emperor inherited was a huge burden, brilliant on the surface but rotten within. After he ascended the throne, he often reviewed memorials until late at night. When urgent military matters arose, he would deal with them immediately, no matter the time. He wished he could handle every single affair of the realm personally...”

Wen Chan: “Did no one try to advise him?”

“They did, but the Late Emperor said he came from the army, was physically strong, and wasn't afraid of exhaustion.” Pei Rusong's fingers resting on the table curled slightly. “Besides, the court couldn't function without him. His sons were young, the court officials all had their own agendas, corruption was rampant in the regions, and border generals were building their own power with their armies. To eradicate these deep-seated problems, he had to first throw himself into the task.”

Wen Chan frowned but didn't interrupt, letting him continue. “On the fifteenth day of the sixth month in the eighth year of Dingxing, the Late Emperor passed away suddenly in Tongtian Hall late at night. The event was extremely abrupt; there was neither a written will nor a verbal edict. The Crown Prince was not yet six years old. The Empress, wary of the court officials and fearing they would use the opportunity to stir up trouble, first summoned the Prince of Liang to the palace and entrusted him with managing the situation.”

“The Late... What illness did Wen Zhuo have? How could he die so suddenly? Were there no signs at all beforehand?”

“The official story was that a heart ailment was triggered by overwork,” Pei Rusong said. “The Late Emperor had long suffered from heart palpitations and had summoned the imperial physicians several times. The medical records and prescriptions all match up.”

“And in reality?”

“The Late Emperor, exhausted by state affairs, probably often felt mentally drained. He summoned Daoist alchemists to the palace to refine elixirs for him and relied on ingesting these golden pills to boost his energy...”

All the teaware on the table jumped. Wen Chan was furious. “How did the last few emperors of the previous dynasty die? How did Emperor Shunzong die? Did he forget, or did you get amnesia too? What about Lu Shuo? Yang Tingying? Have all the civil and military officials in the court stopped breathing? Why didn't anyone stop him!”

Pei Rusong seemed to have expected her reaction. He didn't argue when she yelled at him, simply lowering his head silently like a punching bag.

“...”

Wen Chan knew she was misdirecting her anger, but she was too furious to have the patience to soothe him. She had painstakingly planned for over a decade, even sacrificing her own life in the end, just to pave this path to the heavens for Wen Zhuo. It was precisely because she trusted his abilities that she entrusted the power of the Princess Manor, and even Pei Rusong, to Wen Zhuo, hoping he would become a great ruler of a revived dynasty and that those people could live peaceful lives after her death. But that unreliable Wen Zhuo had actually brought about his own death!

Pei Rusong pushed a teacup toward her and comforted her softly, “Calm down. It's all in the past.”

The very same Princess Chiming who had just been saying “get over it” and “let it go” pressed her throbbing temples, her face as dark as water, and said through clenched teeth, “Continue. Tell me about the Prince of Liang and the Empress.”

“The Empress Dowager,” Pei Rusong corrected her with precision. “The Prince of Liang controlled the Baotao Guard. The Late Emperor still trusted him, and the Empress Dowager probably also thought he was a loyal and virtuous prince, so she readily handed over the regency to him. She wanted to use the Prince of Liang's power to suppress the court officials, so when the Prince of Liang turned on her, the officials naturally wouldn't help her.”

“The Prince of Liang served as regent for two years. Anyone with eyes could see he was sharpening his blades, and that any day he pleased, the heads of the emperor and his mother would roll. The Empress Dowager finally couldn't sit still any longer.

“She has terrible judgment but a fondness for using a borrowed knife to kill. In the little emperor's name, she sent a secret decree to the Military Governor of Baoning, Mu Wen, ordering him to enter the capital to serve the king and cleanse the court of evil ministers. But when the Late Emperor was on the throne, he had already realized the hidden danger of the ten provincial governors growing too powerful and had begun to restrict the military authority of the border generals. The relationship between the court and the border armies was very tense. And Mu Wen was not only a border general but also one of the Hukeyan people. He had long been colluding with the Tongluo and was not loyal to the Great Qi Dynasty.”

The consequences of letting a wolf into the house were a lesson written all over the history books, but unfortunately, people always repeat the same mistakes.

Mu Wen betrayed Qi, threw open the country's gates, and led the Tongluo wolf cavalry to the walls of Zhaojing. The Prince of Liang was defeated and killed, and both the Empress Dowager and the little emperor were forced to drink poison.

Mu Wen installed Wen Xiu, the son of Prince An, Wen Gong, as a puppet emperor. In an extremely ironic twist, the new emperor Wen Xiu's mother was none other than Su Lingjun, the daughter of the Su Clan of Zhongzhou, who had once been betrothed to Pei Rusong.

“And then?”

Pei Rusong shook his head.

For a rare moment, Wen Chan showed a hint of hesitation. Considering Pei Rusong's feelings, she didn't ask her question directly. Fortunately, Pei Rusong was perceptive and offered an answer on his own. “There's no need to avoid the subject. I probably fell ill from worry, caught a cold, and died.”

Wen Chan silently calculated in her mind. It was about two years after Wen Zhuo's death from illness, and about eleven years after her own death, that Pei Rusong also passed away.

But—

She studied Pei Rusong's candid expression with suspicion, wondering to herself: 'Did he really 'die of illness'?'

Pei Rusong met her gaze, a bitter and self-deprecating smile touching his lips.

“Whatever Your Highness wants to ask, you can just say it.”

In his narrative just now, there were various subtleties and illogical points hidden between the lines, which someone as sharp as Wen Chan must have already noticed.

But noticing was one thing; having the courage to say it was another. Wen Chan had plotted painstakingly, not hesitating to sacrifice her own life, only to get such an outcome. To her, it was tantamount to a complete failure.

“After I died, you... didn't have a good time, did you?”

Pei Rusong's eyes shot up.

He once thought Wen Chan was born with walls of iron and bronze, that in two lifetimes combined, he could never hope to hear a single soft word from her mouth. This person always had a grand game of chess in her mind. Every piece felt important, but the player could never show favoritism to any single piece.

She should have cared most about winning or losing the game, not the feelings of one of the pieces.

“Yes.”

Pei Rusong only felt his eyes grow hot again. He glanced away as if to hide it, his voice so low it was almost inaudible.

“Not good at all.”