In the storybook, the woman herself is the fox.
Her husband repeatedly warned her not to leave home.
She didn’t listen to him, and so the story turned into a tragedy.
Outside the storybook, Yan Nantian also told Yun Zhao not to leave home.
So what he meant was…
Yun Zhao pondered for a moment, then angrily slammed the table: “He dares to call me a fox demon?!”
The palace servants exchanged glances, pretending not to hear: “…”
This little ancestor’s ability to twist words was truly unmatched.
*
In the evening, Lady Xiangyang sent over a freshly brewed bowl of dragon marrow soup.
Along with it came a message—
“I heard that little Yan brought that wretched maid into the Forbidden City? Don’t you dare lose face over this, hurry up and follow them! If you spend a night there and something happens, you’ll regret it to death!”
The aunt relayed Lady Xiangyang’s exact words with a serious expression.
Her demeanor was eerily similar to Yun Zhao’s mother.
Yun Zhao: “…”
The villain wasn’t wrong—both mother and daughter were obsessed with love and romance, always scheming against the protagonist and her mother.
Yun Zhao could already imagine the “spectacle” when Wen’s mother returned—Lady Xiangyang would undoubtedly go mad, and no one could stop her.
After the aunt left, the entire Eastern Palace was on edge.
Everyone was afraid Yun Zhao would rush to the Forbidden City to cause trouble.
With just a wave of Yun Zhao’s hand, the shoulders of the servants and guards would tense up slightly.
As she moved in and out of her chambers, the expressions of those around her shifted between tension and relief.
Yun Zhao: “…” This was fun.
As night fell, Yun Zhao finished her bath and stepped into her chamber, only to see the senior palace maid presenting a letter from the palace as if it were a life-saving elixir.
It was written on white paper with a bamboo pattern, the handwriting elegant.
The lighting in the room was just right—neither too bright nor too dim—as her eyes fell on the black ink against the white paper.
Since Yan Nantian wasn’t here, a maid brought over a piece of fire silkworm cloth to dry her hair.
Yun Zhao leaned against the headboard, feeling utterly comfortable.
She lowered her gaze to read the new story he had written.
“…Huh?”
He wrote another ending for the fox and the man.
The fox didn’t leave home.
She recovered from her “illness,” put on a windproof veil, and was led by her handsome husband, step by step, out of their courtyard.
Through the thick black veil that obscured her vision, she could faintly see the waterwheel by the river, the chickens and ducks pecking in the neighbor’s yard, and the peddler setting up his candy cart under the large locust tree.
She had never seen them before, but she felt as if she had known them all along.
He held her hand, his fingers trembling slightly, perhaps from excitement.
He gripped her hand tightly, as if silently making a promise.
And so, step by step, they left the small village.
They went to the town, to the city, to the capital, to Luoyang.
Yan Nantian spent a great deal of time describing their journey in detail. Long passages were filled with descriptions of scenery, written in such a dull manner that it was almost sleep-inducing.
Yun Zhao read on, and before she knew it, she had fallen asleep.
The night passed without dreams.
When she woke up in the morning, she suddenly remembered something and picked up the scattered pieces of paper by her pillow to continue reading.
An entire page was filled with descriptions of the scenery of Luoyang.
Yun Zhao was speechless: “…Is he just padding the word count?”
She flipped the page, and there was only one left.
Unlike the densely packed text before, this page was clean and simple, with a few bold, confident characters written on it.
He wrote—
[Good morning, little Yun Zhao.]
Yun Zhao: “…”
It seemed he was well aware of how boring his writing was.
*
Over the next few days, Yun Zhao stayed obediently in the Eastern Palace, eating and sleeping on time, behaving so well that it made all the palace servants uneasy.
They couldn’t shake the feeling that she was planning something big.
Every night, Yan Nantian would send her a bedtime story.
Immortals, ghosts, spirits, and monsters—he used all sorts of tales to lull her to sleep.
But for some reason, these stories seemed to be missing something. Unlike the fox story, which, though seemingly ordinary, left her with a lingering sense of melancholy.
About a week later, on a sunny afternoon, the palace gates suddenly swung open.
Yun Zhao leaned by the window and looked across the courtyard, spotting a familiar figure.
He was dressed in black, his complexion pale from a distance, and his exhaustion was evident.
When he saw her, his eyes lit up.
He hurried through the courtyard and corridors, his quick steps leaving the servants’ greetings behind.
Yun Zhao never went out to greet anyone.
Yan Nantian burst into her chamber and saw her sitting by the window, smiling, her legs swinging slightly as she held out a small plate of pastries.
“Here!”
Yan Nantian chuckled.
After rushing back, anyone would expect to be offered water, but only she would hand him dry, crumbly cakes.
He took the crystal plate and, without hesitation, picked up a pastry and popped it into his mouth.
She didn’t know how to care for others, but even her thoughtless gestures were precious and shouldn’t be missed.
After swallowing a few cakes, his throat felt like it was on fire.
“Brother Yan!” Yun Zhao smiled at him, her voice crisp and clear.
Yan Nantian: “…Go on, I can take it.”
Yun Zhao widened her eyes slightly: “Oh, why does your voice sound so hoarse?”
Yan Nantian: “…”
He didn’t want to talk and poured himself a cup of tea to drink.
She continued cheerfully: “I’ve stayed at home all these days, I didn’t go anywhere!”
Even though he could see the mischief in her eyes, waiting for him to fall into her trap, Yan Nantian could only reply, “Yun Zhao is so well-behaved. You must be bored, right?”
“Yes!” she nodded vigorously.
He reached out and ruffled her hair: “When I finish this mission, I’ll definitely spend time with you…”
Before he could finish, she was already tugging at his sleeve.
“I want to go with you,” she said.
“Yun Zhao,” Yan Nantian felt a headache coming on, “this mission is very dangerous.”
“I know!” Yun Zhao replied quickly, “You said you’re going to find Wen Nuannuan’s mother.”
Yan Nantian waved his hand lightly.
The servants silently exited and closed the chamber doors.
“The Loulan Sea Market,” Yan Nantian explained, “a legendary ancient city on the sea, inhabited by sea folk and immortals. There’s no reliable information about it, and I can’t let you risk your life in such a place.”
Yun Zhao didn’t speak, silently turning her back to him.
After a while, her voice drifted out softly: “Brother Yan, last time you went to the Whale Fall Sea without me, and you brought back Wen Nuannuan. It made me so sad.”
She hung her head, her shoulders hunched, looking utterly dejected.
Yan Nantian sighed: “Yun Zhao…”
She wasn’t throwing a tantrum or being difficult, but her quiet sadness was even harder to handle.
She murmured: “Brother Yan, I’ve been thinking… if I had always been by your side, maybe I wouldn’t feel so sad. This time, when you go to rescue Wen Nuannuan’s mother, she’ll be going with you, right? Even if I trust you, you’ll be traveling so far together, facing dangers together, while I’ll be left here alone, feeling miserable.”
His fingers tentatively, gently rested on her shoulder as he struggled to speak: “Yun Zhao, can you wait for me a little longer?”
“I thought that from now on, no matter where Brother Yan goes, I’ll follow,” she said, her head bowed as she fiddled with her fingers, “to the town, to the city, to the capital, to Luoyang…”
She listed all the places the handsome husband had taken the fox.
The slender fingers on her shoulder curled slightly.
Yun Zhao’s voice was firm but tinged with laughter: “Luoyang, the ancient capital, is famous for its peonies—Yao Huang, Dou Lu, Wei Zi, Lan Tian, Bai Xue… In spring, the flowers bloom in abundance, like a green carpet covering the hills… In summer, the fruits and vegetables are plentiful, and the water banquets are refreshing… In autumn, the sky is high and the air is crisp, with red maple leaves and golden ginkgo trees… In winter, the land is blanketed in snow, perfect for soaking in hot springs and drinking lamb soup…”
Yan Nantian’s fingers trembled slightly.
The dull, sleep-inducing words he had written to lull her to sleep—she had memorized every single one.
She had always hated memorizing, and because of that, she had often been chased by her teacher with a ruler.
The image of her curled up in bed, struggling to memorize his letters, softened even the hardest of hearts.
“Brother Yan…” Yun Zhao let her sleeve fall, covering the cheat notes on her wrist, and turned back to him, her eyes pleading, “You really won’t take me with you?”
Yan Nantian: “…”
Facing those eyes, the word “no” felt heavier than a thousand pounds.
She looked at him expectantly: “Hmm?”
Her eyes seemed to say—Are you really going to leave me all alone, to let me suffer in solitude?
Yan Nantian: “…”
Yan Nantian: “Fine, I’ll take you.”
After agreeing, he realized he would be traveling with two women, with palace spies watching their every move…
His headache was about to explode.
