It would be false to say Song Chuyi was entirely unaffected by talk of gods and fate. After all, she'd been reborn inexplicably, carrying a deep grudge from a past life—how could she disregard the supernatural? With uneasy apprehension, she opened her palm briefly, gncing at the lines there before swiftly closing her fist.

  She didn't fear retribution. Rather, she dreaded the possibility Yuan Hui had hinted at—that she might bring harm upon those she cared about.

  Looking back, life's grandeur seemed fleeting and illusory, and her new chance at life felt as fragile as a thread above stormy seas. Often, in the dark of night, she'd awaken abruptly from nightmares, memories of her previous life and this one blurring indistinguishably together. Reality and dreams intertwined until she could hardly tell one from the other. Since her rebirth, each day felt like walking a tightrope, carefully pcing each step as though bancing on thin ice. She never dared rex her vigince, constantly aware of the heavy cost of defying destiny. Deep down, she knew Yuan Hui's words held a grain of truth, and perhaps that's why she'd never slept peacefully since.

  She stood silently at the center of the hall as cold winds rushed in from all directions. Pulling her hood tighter around her, she touched her face with trembling fingers, suddenly realizing her skin was icy cold.

  Song Yan approached and took her hand, gently shaking her when he saw her lost in thought. "He's talking nonsense, sister. Don't pay him any attention."

  Cause and effect—if karma truly existed, shouldn't Yuan Hui himself, as a monk committing such misdeeds, be the first to suffer its consequences?

  Snapped from her daze, Song Chuyi gently squeezed Song Yan’s hand, then turned to look at Zhou Weizhao. "Why has Your Highness come?"

  "I've come to celebrate An An’s birthday." Zhou Weizhao smiled lightly, holding up an exquisite brocade box. "An An mentioned st time that she wanted sugar figures crafted by Master Lang. I’ve specially brought some for her."

  Nanny Xu hurried into the front hall, urging them to come to the rear courtyard for longevity noodles. She smiled warmly, adding, "We also prepared some longevity peach buns today, made with flour mixed with peach syrup. I'm not sure if they'll taste just right, but we’ll steam them fresh as soon as Auntie returns."

  Uncle Zhang had already led servants out to repair the damaged gate. Where had Yuan Hui found such incredible strength? To smash such a rge gate as if it were nothing—indeed, it was embarrassing for outsiders to see.

  While everyone was busy eating noodles, Song Chuyi frowned slightly and quietly called Zhou Weizhao aside, asking tentatively, "Did Qingzhuo and Hanfeng not accompany you this time?"

  The wind under the corridor howled relentlessly, leaving Song Chuyi’s face flushed despite the protection of her hood. Zhou Weizhao gnced at her, responding gently, "Yuan Hui isn't as simple as he appears. It’s fortunate you didn’t try to kill him outright."

  Precisely for that reason, Song Chuyi had left herself some room for maneuver and maintained her hold over Yuan Hui's mother and sister. It was the only leverage that could give Yuan Hui pause.

  This monk, highly accomplished in both Buddhist studies and martial arts, had powerful backers.

  "He spent barely a night in Shuntian Magistrate’s office before being released." Song Chuyi turned to meet Zhou Weizhao’s gaze, her eyes sharp and probing. "Does Your Highness know who might have intervened?"

  Zhou Weizhao returned her stare with a faint smile. "Before Master Yuankong, the abbot of Huangjue Temple, descended the mountain, he had first sent a visitation card to Grand Secretary Du's residence."

  Indeed, Yuan Hui was an extremely tricky opponent. He had deep ties with Prince Duan, maintained mysteriously friendly retions with Prince Gong, and even after pledging loyalty to the Prince of Commandery, Prince Gong's people were still willing to lend him a helping hand.

  However, Prince Gong’s motive was likely less about helping Yuan Hui and more about preventing the Cui and Song families, future supporters of the Eastern Pace, from gaining too much advantage. Nonetheless, Grand Secretary Du had indeed been persuaded to act.

  Yet Song Chuyi instinctively felt something wasn’t right. Grand Secretary Du’s decision to help Yuan Hui might not have been at Prince Gong's direction.

  She recalled how, years ago, before Cui Shaoting repced the previous governor of Fujian, Lord Du, then just a schor at the Hanlin Academy, had vehemently opposed the removal, even nding himself briefly in prison as a consequence.

  Connecting these events with memories of her past life, Song Chuyi vaguely sensed she was nearing a revetion but struggled to grasp its true depth, causing her head to ache slightly.

  "Grand Secretary Du has cultivated his power in the capital for many years," Zhou Weizhao continued calmly. "If he chooses to aid Yuan Hui, it’s no surprise Yuan Hui could locate those he sought. Still, you needn’t worry too much. Grand Secretary Du currently has no wish to antagonize the Song and Cui families openly, and Qingzhuo and Hanfeng are also watching over the situation closely."

  But Song Chuyi was reluctant to let Yuan Hui off the hook. Unlike the Chen family or Prince Duan, Yuan Hui was truly dangerous. If he had wanted, no one present just now could've stood against him. Killing her would've been effortless.

  "If I insist on killing Yuan Hui, would Grand Secretary Du reveal himself fully to protect him?" Song Chuyi frowned, her eyes fixed on Zhou Weizhao. "Your Highness, when I first asked for your assistance, I told you clearly: I won’t spare anyone who tries to take my life. If I let Yuan Hui go now, the next person who dies will surely be me. I can’t risk the lives of myself and my family."

  "This is exactly what I wanted to advise you," Zhou Weizhao replied firmly. "Once you've made up your mind to act, never hesitate or waver. If you’re holding a bde, never listen to others who try to persuade you to put it down—because someone else might pick it up to stab you."

  Pausing briefly, Zhou Weizhao added thoughtfully, "Yuan Hui’s reputation is already utterly ruined. Grandfather Emperor now thoroughly detests him. This is precisely the moment to strike decisively. You’re right—if he doesn’t die now, next time it will be your life on the line."

  Indeed, Song Chuyi had dealt Yuan Hui a crippling blow, cutting straight to his heart and ripping away his ambitions and future prospects.

  Yes, Yuan Hui’s greatest advantage had always been Emperor Jianzhang’s favor. Previously, everyone showed him respect precisely because his words had influence over the Emperor. Now that Emperor Jianzhang had grown disgusted with him, naturally, those beneath would adjust their allegiances accordingly.

  Even if Grand Secretary Du, motivated by personal feelings or hidden agendas, could save Yuan Hui once, he certainly wouldn't be able to do so repeatedly. Likewise, the Prince of Commandery and Consort Fan were constrained by circumstances and wouldn't intervene openly, especially given their delicate retions with the Crown Prince.

  "When I left the mountain, my master gave me a piece of advice," Zhou Weizhao continued gently, observing as determination returned to Song Chuyi’s eyes. He offered her a reassuring smile. "Now I’ll pass it on to you: Don’t expect. Don’t imagine. Don’t force things. Allow matters to unfold naturally—if it’s meant to be, it will inevitably happen."

  Retribution or no retribution—she’d done all she could, and the rest was up to fate. Such distant worries could wait; what mattered most was living well in the present.

  At that thought, Song Chuyi suddenly felt her heart settle, as crity brightened her mind.