Will things ever be good again?

As he gazed at Yun Xueyan’s serene sleeping face, her long lashes fluttered gently, casting faint shadows across her cheeks. The swelling that had marred her features the day before had faded overnight. The corners of her lips curved upward in a quiet smile—she looked so beautiful like this.

Duan Nanyu rose, straightened his robes, and only then noticed a sewing basket not far from the dressing table. He walked over and idly sifted through its contents. At the very bottom, he found a sachet. Embroidered with the character "Yu" in gold thread, the work was exquisite, though it seemed unfinished. Yet he was more than satisfied.

A strange excitement welled up within him. Was this something she had made for him? Like a child with a precious treasure, he tucked the sachet close to his heart. Then he returned to the bedside and placed a gentle kiss on Yun Xueyan’s forehead.

He and she—perhaps they would truly be well together after all...

“Yan’er… wait for me to return. I will make you happy, I promise.” His words were a deep, lingering whisper. He gazed at Yun Xueyan for a long moment before finally turning to leave.

“Zihun, take good care of her. Afterward… if you wish to leave, you may, but do not let her come to harm.” There was no need for more words; Zihun understood.

“Yes,” Zihun replied with a nod.

Lying on the bed, Yun Xueyan turned her face toward the wall. Silent tears slipped from the corners of her eyes, soaking the pillow beneath her one drop at a time.

Would she and he truly be well? Would they ever be free of all barriers and doubts?

All she knew was that, by his side, she would always be just a concubine—forever sharing her husband with other women. Her dream would never come true.

To be with one man for a lifetime, and he with her—such a wish would remain nothing but a fantasy.

Covering her face with both hands, she began to sob aloud. Tears seeped through her fingers, falling in streams—not just tears, but the shattering of her hopes for happiness.

The life fate had dealt her would always be like this—tied to other women by the same man, her destiny sealed.

What more could she do? Did she even have a choice?

Now, with Duan Nanyu treating her so kindly, she ought to be grateful—grateful for heaven’s small favor and mercy.

She should not ask for more, should not hope for anything beyond this. A simple, stable life was enough.

There was regret, there was melancholy, but most of all, there was a bewildered emptiness about what her life had become.

Exhausted from crying, Yun Xueyan once more drifted into a heavy sleep, worn out and no longer able to trouble herself with thoughts of an illusory future.

Near midday, Ziyu finally brought in a meal. Seeing Yun Xueyan still asleep, she set the food down and called softly, “Consort Yan, please wake up and eat something. You need to keep your strength.”

The woman lying in bed was pale and wan, her eyes deeply sunken and shadowed with fatigue.

Ziyu looked at her with aching concern—she had suffered so much, and yet had always managed to endure. Surely now, things would finally get better.

The prince was beginning to care for her, and at that thought, Ziyu could not help but smile, feeling happy for Yun Xueyan.

When Yun Xueyan opened her eyes and saw Ziyu sitting at her bedside, she managed a faint smile. “Ziyu, you’re here. Help me up, will you? It must be midday by now.”

“Yes, you didn’t eat anything this morning. You should have a little now and rest some more, or your body won’t hold up.” Supporting Yun Xueyan, Ziyu brought the meal over and fed her small bites.

But after only a few mouthfuls, Yun Xueyan could not eat any more and shook her head. She truly could not swallow another bite.

“Ziyu, take it away, please. I want to rest.” She pushed the food aside, lay back down, closed her eyes, and soon drifted back into sleep.