Meeting Zhou Yitang, rather than being a premeditated plan, was more of a spur-of-the-moment decision.

If it were premeditated, Chen Yi wouldn't need to buy fireworks, nor would he end up being chased down half the street by a group of children.

But it was precisely this impulsive act that could stir the heart of his former wife in this life.

Because she didn't expect it.

Sometimes, it's just like this—

Something done a thousand times that's entirely predictable fades quickly, while something done just once that's completely unexpected can linger in memory for a lifetime.

The subtle pleasures in life are undoubtedly delightful, but beyond them, there are still countless other flavors.

After briefly explaining his plan to Zhou Yitang, Chen Yi returned to the palace.

Naturally, he spent the night in Dong Guifei's courtyard, wrapped in a warm quilt.

The bedding was cozy, and with a beauty by his side, no matter how tightly Chen Yi embraced her, it seemed never enough. But at dawn, a palace maid arrived, saying the Empress Dowager wished to see him.

Chen Yi casually freshened up, dressed, and followed the palace maid to the meeting place.

From a higher vantage point, he could see a tiny figure, no more than a speck, appearing beneath the Moon Pavilion.

Empress An stood on the terrace, gazing out at New Year's Day. Around Lianyin Lake, palace maids sprinkled fish feed into the water, where thousands of golden koi surged, accompanied by the surrounding bright red lanterns—a truly festive sight.

Footsteps echoed behind her. Without turning, Empress An already knew who had arrived.

"Did you sleep well last night?" Empress An asked.

Chen Yi stopped in his tracks, his expression somber, and after a long pause, he replied:

"It was fine."

His tone carried a hint of hesitation, the kind of reluctance that comes with accepting someone's goodwill but feeling awkward about reconciling. Empress An understood—

At times, people are willing to reconcile in their hearts, yet they falter, unsure how to begin. Even when they do, their words often come out stiff and uneasy.

Dissolving such barriers takes time.

And time was something she had in abundance.

Empress An spoke leisurely, "Do you know that Guifei's name?"

"Seems to be Dong Zhiji, courtesy name Ling Shan," Chen Yi replied.

"No matter how a Korean chooses a Chinese name, you can tell they're Korean as soon as you hear it," Empress An paused briefly before continuing, "Don't worry—she has no family backing her. However you treat her, she wouldn't dare utter a word of complaint. As for the palace, no one will fault you either."

This was an intentional yet subtle reminder: Dong Guifei, given as a gift by the palace to Chen Yi, would remain his as long as she depended on the palace's favor. Conversely, if the palace withdrew its favor, they could reclaim her at any moment.

Empress An continued, "On New Year's Day, one should hear cheerful news. Although the daughter of Prince Xiang is unwilling to become the Commandery Princess, revoking her criminal record isn't difficult. As for Prince Mansion—I've arranged for it to be granted to you as a Marquis Mansion, and people have already been sent to manage it. By Lantern Festival, you'll marry her. This palace knows you've always favored her, but there's an order to things. You must first wed the East Palace and establish her as your primary wife."

Chen Yi gave a faint acknowledgment, "Thank you, Your Grace."

Empress An much preferred hearing him call her "Mother." But considering the fragile progress in their relationship, she didn't wish to upset him or rush matters prematurely.

Empress An's mood softened; she turned, her gaze as gentle as rippling water.

She stepped closer to him, paused briefly before passing by, and said:

"Come with this palace."

Chen Yi obeyed, following behind her, one step after the other, as they descended the Moon Pavilion by Lianyin Lake.

Initially, palace maids trailed them, but after a short stretch, they stopped following. Empress An seemed to guide Chen Yi out of the inner court, populated predominantly by women, and toward the outer court.

Through the winding paths of the palace's outer court, they reached a secluded area surrounded by dense foliage and ringed by green bamboo, shadows concealing unknown figures.

The pair finally stopped at a partially open courtyard, where a small training ground awaited, complete with dummies, wooden stakes, and a weapon rack stocked with various swords, spears, and staffs.

Chen Yi hesitated, his back bristling with alertness, sensing eyes on him.

Empress An's gaze remained steady, "Come out."

From the shadowy corner near the wall, two dark figures darted forward. Though dressed in the uniform of palace maids, their movements were efficient, their breathing as steady as death. They were no more than ten paces away—a distance that straddled the line between safety and danger.

The two women leapt nimbly before Empress An, syncing their actions flawlessly as they knelt on one knee, "Your Grace."

Noticing Chen Yi's unease, Empress An chuckled, "They are two of the four most prized disciples of the nanny, all stationed as protectors of this palace within the inner court. Unfortunately, their looks are too plain to suit you."

Chen Yi recognized their identities and said, "The Twin Herons?"

Empress An nodded approvingly and said, "Indeed, that's them. Jianghu is rife with stories about them—this palace only listens, but they all seem so exaggerated."

In this world, there were countless beautiful women, and even more of them were skilled martial artists, both men and women alike.

Because of this, Jianghu abounded with tales of women assassins, most of whom were renowned beauties. After all, beauty is an irresistible weapon. However, the Twin Herons were an exception.

Beauty was hard to defend against as a weapon, yet those in positions of power weren't fools. Knowing beauty could be a trap, they kept their distance from unfamiliar and tempting faces.

Closing one loophole would, inevitably, open another. Therefore, those quiet, inconspicuous maids and servants—whose existence often faded from their masters' memory—would most likely be the ones revealing a hidden blade.

The Twin Herons embodied this principle.

"Beauty is indeed a weapon, but excessive reliance upon it tends to overshadow the more substantial," Empress An remarked calmly. "In Xique Pavilion, the most stunning individuals rarely ascend to the status of leaders."

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