Fu Xiao’s sudden change stirred the strongest reaction not from Prince Ping nor from Concubine Zhou, but from the Princess Consort, who was still confined to her courtyard.

Though she was under house arrest, news still reached her ears.

When Fu Yi told her that Fu Yanghong intended to forgive Fu Xiao, the Princess Consort had felt anxious but still clung to a sliver of hope. As long as Fu Xiao remained entangled with that courtesan, Fu Yanghong would never fully pardon him.

But to her dismay, within just a few days, Fu Xiao had truly let go. He no longer clamored to marry the dancer and had thrown himself into work with more fervor than ever. The Princess Consort could no longer sit still—it was as if she’d aged several years overnight.

“Truly, like father, like son—just as heartless! And what is Fu Yi doing? What is he thinking? How could he let Fu Xiao get his way like this!”

“Master Fu Yi has not been idle either,” a maid replied cautiously. “But now that Mistress Zhou holds sway and whispers to the prince in bed, how could His Highness not begin to favor Fu Xiao?”

The Princess Consort’s face darkened. “Bring Fu Yi to me. Tell him—tell him I’ve agreed! But I must be the one to choose the family Light Cloud will marry into!”

Once Lu Qingyun was wed, she could no longer be the legitimate wife of the Fu family. But a noble concubine—yes, that was still possible. With the Princess Consort’s support, no one would dare bully her!

Though bitterly unwilling, the Princess Consort couldn’t bear to watch the Fu household fall into Zhou’s hands. She had no choice but to let Light Cloud suffer a little now—for the sake of the greater game.

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But Fu Yi never came.

The Princess Consort grew frantic. “Did you make it clear to him? Where is he? I want to see him!”

The servant hesitated. “Your Grace… the young master said… he doesn’t have time to come. And he also said…”

“What else did he say?!”

“He said… since you can’t bear to part with Miss Light Cloud, then he doesn’t wish to break your heart either.”

The Princess Consort suddenly sat upright, a flicker of joy flashing through her eyes. “Truly? That’s wonderful! I knew it—he’s just soft-hearted with a sharp tongue.”

She hadn’t expected Fu Yi to be the first to yield. Excellent! Once she regained control, she would find a way to have Fu Yi marry Qingyun as soon as possible and put an end to all future trouble.

“Did he say when I can leave?”

“Well… the young master didn’t say. He only asked that Your Grace take care of your health.”

A long-lost look of contentment bloomed across the Princess Consort’s face. So Yi’er had finally felt the pressure now that Fu Xiao had started to rise. He must understand now how hard she had worked for his sake all these years. Mama Chang had worried too much—look, she and Yi’er were just like before again.

…

The Princess Consort thought Fu Yi was pleading on her behalf, but in truth, Fu Yi had been loitering in front of Qingxin Pavilion for two days. One of the shop assistants finally noticed him and casually mentioned it to Bai Qingqing.

“Fu Yi?” Bai Qingqing put down what she was holding. “He came to see me?”

“That I can’t say for sure. But he looked terrible—like he’d lost his soul.”

Bai Qingqing thought for a moment, then washed her hands and went out herself. Sure enough, she spotted Fu Yi’s figure at the street corner.

The servant had put it mildly. He didn’t just look lost—he looked like a man completely hollowed out.

Once a noble young gentleman, elegant and charming, the kind who could make hearts flutter with a glance—now disheveled, broken, with such a hopeless air about him that were he dressed a little more raggedly, he’d be indistinguishable from a beggar. Who would guess this was the legitimate son whom Prince Ping took such pride in?

Bai Qingqing walked over slowly and stopped before him. Fu Yi’s head was drooped, but he lifted it inch by inch, wooden and dazed. When his bloodshot eyes finally landed on her face, a deep crimson welled up in them, as if he were seeing the last sliver of light left in the world. He murmured, “Qingqing…”