The low-key prince summons trainees from the Imperial Household Department at the start of the game.

After Zhou Qian left, the courtyard gate of Ningcui Pavilion closed gently.

The old nanny bolted the door shut and turned to go back to her room.

Only Consort Rong and her son Zhou Ying remained in the main hall.

The leftovers on the table hadn't been cleared away yet, and the egg drop soup had already gone cold, with a thin layer of oil condensing on the surface.

Consort Rong stood by the door, watching the reddish-brown dragon robe disappear at the end of the corridor.

The gentle smile on his face slowly faded like the tide, revealing a cold and calm expression beneath.

She stood there for a long time, so long that the night wind ruffled the stray hairs at her temples, so long that one of the palace lanterns under the eaves was blown out by the wind.

She turned and walked back to the main hall, where Zhou Ying was bending over to clear the dishes. Her movements were practiced and skillful, clearly indicating that this was not the first time she had done such a servant's job.

He looked up at his mother and paused slightly.

The way the mother looked at that moment was completely different from how she looked at the dinner table.

That wasn't the gentle, loving gaze he was familiar with, but a cold, icy scrutiny he had never seen before.

"Mother?" he called out tentatively.

Consort Rong did not respond to him, but went straight to the old wooden chair in the hall and sat down.

Her posture remained dignified, but that gentle and submissive temperament had completely vanished.

Instead, it is replaced by a composure and dignity that only those who have long held a position of power possess.

She held the teacup, gently stirring the floating tea leaves with the lid, her voice low but carrying an unyielding coldness: "It's a good thing that your father is here today."

"He said he would arrange practical tasks for you, so do them well, but there's one thing you need to remember."

"You can take what he gives you, but you can't take what he doesn't give you, at least not openly."

Zhou Ying put down her bowl and chopsticks, straightened up, and looked at her mother.

He keenly noticed a very subtle flaw in his mother's words.

She used "he gave it to you" instead of "your father gave it to you".

He couldn't possibly overlook this subtle difference in title, having lived in the deep palace for sixteen years.

"Mother, is there something you're hiding from me?"

Consort Rong raised her eyes to look at him, the coldness in her gaze slowly receding, replaced by a gentle mist.

But the thin mist was too thin to conceal the surging undercurrents beneath.

She put down her teacup, stood up, walked to Zhou Ying, and reached out to straighten the fine wrinkle on his collar. Her voice was as soft as humming a lullaby: "Ying'er, there are some things that are not the time to tell you yet."

"Just know that you are never walking this path alone."

"Someone is paving the way for you, and others are watching over you in the shadows. Just keep moving forward and take each step carefully. When the time comes, you will naturally find out."

She released her grip and took two steps back, a gentle smile returning to her face, as if everything that had just happened was merely Zhou Ying's illusion.

Zhou Ying stood there watching his mother turn and walk into the inner room, the carved wooden door slowly closing in front of him.

A few low coughs and the rustling of clothes came from the crack in the door, then silence fell.

He stood there for a long time, then silently picked up the bowls and chopsticks from the table and went into the small kitchen. He rolled up his sleeves and washed the bowls and chopsticks clean with the cold well water, then placed them on the wooden rack.

He dried his hands with a cloth, pushed open the door, and walked out of Ningcui Pavilion.

The night breeze blew from the direction of Taiye Pond, carrying the fragrance of water plants and lotus flowers, but it could not dispel the doubts in his heart.

He glanced back at the window of his mother's house, which was emitting a dim yellow light.

A profile of a seated figure is reflected on the window paper.

That profile was so still that it didn't resemble the gentle and loving mother he knew; it was more like a stone statue sitting upright in a temple.

He turned around and strode towards the palace gates.

He received the latest intelligence from Shangguan Jin Hong from the Hai Sha Gang tonight. That line has been laid for three months and can't be delayed any longer.

No matter what his mother was hiding from him, he had to do his own job well first.

Only those with sufficient power and influence are qualified to pursue the hidden truths.

Consort Rong sat before her dressing table in the inner room, watching her son's figure gradually disappear into the distance as he walked through the passageway in the bronze mirror.

She only slowly withdrew her gaze after the palace gate closed behind him.

The bronze mirror reflected a well-maintained face, yet the fine lines around the eyes were still visible.

She raised her hand and pulled out the silver hairpin from her hair bun, her black hair cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall.

She didn't look at herself in the mirror, but instead looked at the inconspicuous ebony jewelry box in the corner of the dressing table.

A lotus flower is engraved on the jewelry box.

It was not the peony pattern commonly used in the Great Zhou Palace, but a blooming lotus flower.

This lotus pattern has almost disappeared from the Great Zhou court because it was the clan emblem of the previous Great Qian imperial family.

She stretched out her slender fingers and gently stroked the lotus flower, her fingertips lingering on the veins of the petals for a long time before she suddenly spoke, her voice calm and undisturbed: "Come in."

A hidden door in the corner of the inner room slid open silently, and an old nanny came out from behind it.

She wore an inconspicuous coarse cloth palace dress, had a full head of white hair, and looked as old as a woman in her seventies or eighties.

But the eyes that peeked out from under the gray eyebrows were surprisingly clear, without a trace of the cloudiness that comes with old age.

She walked behind Consort Rong and stood with her hands at her sides, her movements clean and efficient, without making a single unnecessary sound.

Consort Rong did not turn around, but looked at the aged face behind her in the bronze mirror.

She asked if everything was arranged, and the old nanny replied in a low voice that everything had been done according to the Empress's instructions.

"A message has been sent from the Taibao Mansion that the Third Prince's name has been placed under the Imperial Horse Administration on the Ministry of Personnel's list. The Yuwen family will ensure that this position does not fall into the hands of others."

"Tell the Taibao's office not to be too hasty. The emperor has just developed some goodwill towards my son and me, so it's not wise to rush things at this time."

Consort Rong's fingers paused on the lotus pattern, a faint, cold smile appearing on her lips. "All these years, they have been watching over us from the shadows."

"It's been three hundred years. Since the day the Great Qian Dynasty fell, they have been guarding in the shadows for three hundred years, outliving countless generations, to finally reach this position today."

"No rush, take your time. You can go now."

The old woman bowed and retreated through the hidden door, which closed silently behind her, restoring the wall to its original state without leaving any trace.

Consort Rong sat alone in front of the mirror and gently opened the jewelry box with the lotus pattern.

There were no gold or silver jewels in the box, only a small bronze seal with the same lotus pattern engraved on it.

She held the seal in her palm, feeling the cold temperature of the bronze penetrate her skin and seep into her bones, then closed her eyes, tilted her head back, and took a deep breath.

"All of this originally belonged to us."

Her voice was extremely soft, as soft as a sigh, yet it carried an obsession that had not been extinguished for three hundred years.

The moonlight streamed in through the window, casting a half-light, half-shadow reflection on the face in the bronze mirror.

Half of her face is that of Consort Rong, gentle and graceful; the other half is the cold fate of a descendant of the previous dynasty.