As for why Yin Weiyin discovered it instead of Yin Tingxue, first, it's because the little fox's cultivation is still too weak; second, the little fox couldn't endure much and quickly became exhausted, naturally gaining less cultivation.

Chen Yi smiled gently at this moment. Yin Weiyin seemed to understand something, her eyes faintly stinging. She unknowingly curved her lips and patted his arm, softly saying:

"Good, good brother…"

She didn't notice the warmth flowing through her heart,

only thinking to herself that she was taking another step toward reversing the absorption from him.

Chen Yi pulled her into his embrace. The dual-cultivation effects of the Resentment Yin-Yang Technique weren't bad. If they persisted day after day with meticulous effort, it wouldn't be long before Yin Weiyin could enter the Golden Core Realm.

The warm fragrance in his embrace was intoxicating. Seeing his woman's cultivation rise gave Chen Yi an inexplicable sense of accomplishment.

However, there was another matter to address right now.

Chen Yi glanced at the Great Yin, then turned to look at Little Yin, the two women who would soon be married to him.

Both ladies of Yin were also looking at him, their gaze shimmering.

Chen Yi took a deep breath and slowly began:

"The wedding will happen soon… I don't know exactly when, but the sooner, the better."

Little Yin murmured in agreement, saying little, while the Great Yin responded:

"I know. You're eager to leave the capital quickly."

Though Yin Weiyin wasn't entirely clear about Chen Yi's enmity and grievances with the palace, her understanding was partial at best. Yet, after all they had been through, she could see plainly that the palace was not about to let Chen Yi leave easily.

She added, "I will return to Taihua Mountain later to cultivate with my master, living in seclusion to escape worldly intrigues."

Chen Yi had heard about this from Yu Zhen before; when he left the capital, heading west, he would undoubtedly pass Taihua Mountain.

But the pressing concerns right now were leaving the capital and the matter of Zhou Yitang.

Chen Yi continued, "The wedding mustn't be extravagant. If the palace becomes aware, I'll be monitored even more closely. Once you return home, tell your father and mother to keep things understated."

The two women seemed to take this in silently, yet at this moment, the little fox thought of a question.

Yin Tingxue poked Chen Yi's waist. When he turned his head, she asked:

"Does Master Zhou know about our wedding?"

As soon as her words landed, the entire bedroom fell silent.

Chen Yi pressed his head in frustration — this was precisely his second source of worry.

If it had been earlier, say when they'd just exited the Tushan Underground Palace, this wouldn't have been a concern at all. But circumstances were different now. Calling her a maidservant was just lip service, as both of them internally denied the label. Zhou Yitang had increasingly assumed the role of teacher, while he increasingly resembled a disciplined apprentice. Even as countless past grievances dissolved between them, their hearts—though separated by a thin layer of veil—were already intimately close.

Chen Yi often said that spot in his heart was reserved for her, but after the wedding, the official wife wouldn't be her. Such an arrangement was heartbreakingly unfair.

Additionally, if he wanted to leave the capital, Zhou Yitang's assistance would undoubtedly be indispensable. If complications arose, he truly wouldn't know how to handle them.

After thinking for a while, Chen Yi gave a light slap to Yin Weiyin's bottom.

The female crown shivered involuntarily, looking at Chen Yi in bewilderment, only to meet his slightly stern gaze as he said:

"Phoenix Luan, avoid her for the next few days."

Today's actions from Yin Weiyin had almost exposed this matter.

The female crown pouted her lips in dissatisfaction, yet under his gaze, she wilted and grudgingly said:

"I know—you're more concerned about her than you are about me."

Great Yin's resentment sparked a chuckle within Chen Yi. Gently holding her, he began to ponder what excuse to find to comfort her.

Yin Tingxue, quick to sense the mood, interjected first: "That's not it, Sister Weiyin. He's just caring in different ways, teaching according to each person's needs, with their own merits."

This explanation was pleasing to the ear, and Yin Weiyin's eyes regained their sparkle as she stared straight at Chen Yi.

Chen Yi couldn't help but laugh, planting a kiss on her lips, as he said:

"It's true—don't you see? You're even sillier than the little fox."

Yin Weiyin was noncommittal, her beautiful eyes sweeping over him before falling, carrying a faint hint of pity.

As if he hadn't yet realized who truly held the upper hand.

.........

.........

After last night's poetry gathering, the secluded courtyard where the widow of the Cui family lived remained steeped in daylight.

The winter wind carried falling leaves, sharp and icy. But its mistress, well past the youthful vigor needed to endure such cold, resided there nonetheless.

At her dressing table, her pale complexion reflected years gone by.

Xiuhe didn't recall when she'd woken up. All she remembered was seeing Lin Wanxiao seated in front of the mirror when she did. Her palm was as cold as ice, and the sound of wind rattled the courtyard's windows. Yet Lin Wanxiao remained motionless.

The maidservant, younger by several years, rubbed her aching, dizzy head and spotted the empty wine cups on the table. She remembered the poetry gathering last night—her lady didn't attend, nor did the sachet prepared for him find its way to him.

Her mistress looked heartbroken, her expression solemn and desolate. In despair, she opened a cask of Forgetting Sorrow wine. Together, master and maid drank to their misery until sleep claimed them.

And then… she'd seemingly dreamed a dream…

Xiuhe tried to recall, but her face grew stunned as the memory unfolded. In the dream… he appeared, living in the same courtyard as her mistress. The lady was no longer so achingly alone, but instead paired with him, inseparable… The details of the dream, as she remembered them, shocked her further.

How could one remember so vividly?

Before she could ruminate further, she suddenly noticed a single teardrop sliding from Lin Wanxiao's eye.

Xiuhe paused, stunned, then quickly rose to her feet, calling out:

"Lady, lady… What's wrong? What's wrong?"

Lin Wanxiao didn't respond, clutching the sachet that was never delivered, tears flowing unabated. They fell one by one, rolling like the thawing snows of spring. The cold wind howled at the thresholds, skirling in lamentation, while Xiuhe only heard her mistress's quiet sobs.

Xiuhe panicked, at a loss for how to comfort Lin Wanxiao, unable to grasp the deeper causes of her distress.

Could it be that her lady also dreamt the same dream?

But, after all, it was only a dream…

Xiuhe understood her lady's visible sorrow but could not comprehend the inner turmoil of the young mistress. At her wit's end, she resorted to wiping Lin Wanxiao's tears with a handkerchief.

After quite some time, Lin Wanxiao's crying finally subsided, her eyes red and swollen. Her reflection in the mirror appeared less gaunt, but she despised the image fiercely, turning away from it.

Seeing her mistress's mood lighten a bit, Xiuhe quickly fetched a talebook to read aloud, hoping to turn her tears into laughter.

Opening to a random page, Xiuhe began:

"Of all the women in the world, who has love as fervent as Du Liniang?... Love arises inexplicably, becoming all-consuming."

Lin Wanxiao froze; her face turned unbearably pale as tears welled again. Wasn't this from *Peony Pavilion*? A story of a woman meeting her destined lover in a dream. How beautiful the tale had seemed before—Du Liniang dreamt of meeting Liu Mengmei, her perfect match. But, but… Du Liniang met Liu Mengmei, so who did she meet?!

The source of her widowhood—the one who crushed her husband's family—had now made her abandon all propriety by birthing that dream.

Lin Wanxiao tried to rise but tottered weakly, a feeling of being torn apart engulfing her completely, as though her heart and lungs were being shredded. Collapsing onto her dressing table, she gasped for breath while flashes of parting scenes raced through her mind.

She'd begged him then, saying, "Come back soon…"

"No…"

She'd said to him, "In *Peony Pavilion*, the lovers also meet in a dream."

"No…"

Afterward, she had tightened his belt and straightened his robes as he, in turn, gazed at her—and, before leaving, kissed her farewell.

"No!"

He'd said, "If upon waking from the dream, you still hold me as your husband, then I won't forget you."

"No, no, no!"

The Lin Family Young Lady, delicate as fractured porcelain, collapsed onto the dressing table, teetering on the edge of utter ruin. The dam of years spent in lonely widowhood was breaking piece by piece…

She gripped the sachet that was never delivered, as though about to crush it to dust.

"It's just a dream…"

The young mistress murmured shakily,

"He's not my husband!"

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