What followed proceeded with surprising smoothness.
Xu Wan actually agreed to marry into the Zong family, betrothed to him despite his uncertain fate. She neither attended the Duke of Jin’s plum blossom banquet nor married Chen Yunyu. On the eighth day of the first lunar month, she became his wife and began raising Jin Cheng.
Later, the Crown Prince guessed he was still alive, assuming he had abandoned his feud with the Luo family and instead taught Jin Cheng the art of rulership, ensuring the boy wouldn’t become a puppet of the Luo family after ascending the throne.
Meanwhile, Zong Zhao, while awaiting the antidote’s development, resolutely traveled to the border to strike a deal with Luo Jingfeng. He aimed to earn military merits and the Emperor’s trust, to stand on equal footing with Luo Jingfeng—lest the Luo family grow unchecked and become another threat to Great Chu should the Emperor fall.
After over three years of meticulous planning, the final move was made.
They won.
He saved Yan Suxue, saved Xu Wan, saved the Crown Prince, and saved the entire Zong family. He had walked a path entirely different from his past life.
And this path was the best solution he could conceive.
Zong Zhao snapped out of his thoughts, gazing at Xu Wan asleep beside him. He faintly recalled his emotions on the day he first returned—the girl he had always longed to marry had finally become his wife.
It felt unreal, like a dream.
He reached out, pinched her soft cheek, then nuzzled against her neck, warmth and tenderness making it impossible to resist drawing closer.
Xu Wan, disturbed in her sleep, turned away with a frown, her breathing uneven.
Zong Zhao chuckled, tucking the loose quilt around her before wrapping an arm around her waist and drifting off.
Early the next morning,
he went to the bridge where they had met twice before and found the steamed bun shop still open. Eyeing the colorful little buns, he told the vendor, “Two of each, please.”
“Right away!”
Xu Wan woke later, remembering how she’d tried questioning Zong Zhao the previous night, only to be teased relentlessly until dawn. Fuming, she scrambled up to confront him—only for her maid Cui Liu to say he’d gone out.
“Hiding from me now?!” she grumbled.
When Zong Zhao returned with a food box, Xu Wan was sipping porridge and shot him a disdainful hum. Her childish pout was endearing.
Suppressing a smile, he opened the box. “I bought these for you. Do you like them?”
“What?” She peeked inside, instantly captivated.
The box held an array of tiny, vividly colored buns shaped like pigs, rabbits, cats, and dogs—adorable and artfully made.
Xu Wan was smitten!
She picked up a pig bun, held it up to the sunlight, and gently squeezed it, giggling as the plump shape deflated and rebounded. “So cute! Did you go buy these this morning?”
Zong Zhao didn’t understand her habit of inspecting pig buns under sunlight, but seeing the gesture again merged past and present into one—his gentle wife now sat beside him, sharing sweet marital banter.
“Mm,” he replied softly. “Do you like them? They’re still warm. Try one.”
Xu Wan handed him the pig bun, then took a rabbit-shaped one, waving it playfully. “Let’s eat together.”
“Alright.” He accepted it, stealing glances at her delighted expressions, his own lips curving whenever she smiled.
She didn’t press him about last night.
Perhaps he truly wasn’t ready to tell her, or maybe he wished to shield her from unpleasant truths.
But…
If he didn’t want to share, she wouldn’t pry.
Everyone had their secrets—she had hers too.
Meanwhile, the palace was in chaos.
With the new Emperor’s coronation ceremony scheduled for the next day, officials from the Ministry of Rites and palace stewards scurried about, overwhelmed.
Zong Wenxiu oversaw his younger brother’s robe fittings and etiquette drills.
The robes were simple—just stand still and let attendants adjust them. But mastering ceremonial rites was another matter entirely.
The little tyrant’s manners were already lacking, and the coronation demanded perfection. After trudging in oversized robes for what felt like eternity, Jin Cheng still couldn’t satisfy the Ministry’s standards. Frustrated, he wailed, “How much longerrr?!”
The more he rushed, the worse he performed. Jin Cheng was ready to quit.
“If he doesn’t want to learn, forget it. What nonsense etiquette—why should my Cheng’er bother? Scrap it all!” Luo Jingfeng’s arrogant voice cut through the hall.
“Greetings, Duke of State Protection,” the attendants hastily bowed.
Jin Cheng glared at him, recalling yesterday’s incident at the Eastern Palace.
Hmph. Treacherous old fox.
With his nephew sulking, Luo Jingfeng turned his ire on the Ministry: “A whole morning wasted on etiquette? It’s just walking a few steps!”
The Minister of Rites trembled. “Your Grace, the coronation is of utmost importance. All officials, regional governors, and even commoners will witness it. Any lapse in decorum could tarnish His Majesty’s reputation.”
Luo Jingfeng scoffed. “Cheng’er is the Emperor—the sovereign. Which official would dare criticize? Regional governors can’t even make it here in two days, so no need to fret. And inviting commoners is a security risk for a young ruler. Cancel that.”
With a wave, he dismissed the Ministry’s concerns.
“Y-Yes! This official will streamline the rites immediately,” the Minister stammered.
“Everyone, out.”
“At once.”
The hall emptied, even Zong Wenxiu stepping outside to wait.
Luo Jingfeng approached with memorials, coaxing, “Cheng’er, newly enthroned emperors traditionally grant amnesties, tax exemptions, and rewards to win hearts. Here’s a list Prime Minister Shen and I prepared—just memorize it for tomorrow. No need to worry.”
Jin Cheng remained sullen, ignoring both the man and the documents.
Luo Jingfeng’s face darkened. After a pause, he leaned in conspiratorially. “The imperial princes must be enfeoffed with titles and mansions, but I recall you loathe a few of them. Should I… eliminate them for you?”
Jin Cheng gaped in horror. “What?! Sure, they bullied the Crown Prince, but that doesn’t mean slaughtering them all! You’re too bloodthirsty!”
