He acted as though he knew nothing, his expression calm and unreadable, and followed the servant toward the main courtyard. Because the summons had come hastily, he hadn’t had the chance to check the chicken coop or kitchen.

Before leaving, he casually took two packets of cold medicine, planning to deliver them to Fourth Aunt’s quarters on his way back.

───♡───

When Su Xi finished her homework and logged back in, she found that the little Zai Zai was no longer in the firewood yard. She had no idea where he had gone.

Suddenly, a new quest popped up on her screen:

> “Main Quest 3: During the Qiuyan Mountain hunt, befriend the Second Prince! Successfully enter the Imperial Academy.”

> “Difficulty: Six stars. Rewards: 200 gold coins, 12 points.”

Su Xi was dumbfounded. Question marks filled her head. What on earth was her Zai Zai up to? How had she gone to do homework for just a bit, and suddenly another main quest had appeared?!

These main quests only triggered when the protagonist encountered related events or information. For one to appear now meant that the protagonist already had such thoughts and intentions—or was about to take action toward them.

Su Xi opened the map and checked the Zai Zai’s location.

He was currently in the Old Madam’s Mei’an Courtyard and hadn’t moved for half an hour.

What were they talking about?

Although she couldn’t hear their conversation, Su Xi could more or less guess.

The system explained: “After what happened last time, the Old Madam no longer favors Lu Wenxiu. She thinks he’s useless and incapable of great things. Now she intends to push the protagonist toward the Second Prince, hoping he can earn the Second Prince’s favor and become his study companion.”

Although the Second Prince wasn’t the Crown Prince, he still wielded considerable power. If one became his study companion, one could at least attain the rank of shilang [assistant minister]. By then, even as a concubine’s son, he would no longer be someone easily looked down upon.

The Princess Consort of Ning wouldn’t dare to act recklessly or attempt to harm him again.

Moreover, this was also a chance to enter the Imperial Academy.

When Su Xi had been tidying the wardrobe earlier, apart from tattered clothes, all she found were books. From that alone, she could tell—her little Zai Zai probably didn’t care much about currying favor with the Second Prince; what he truly desired was to study at the Imperial Academy!

He was only fourteen, yet the Four Books and Five Classics in his wardrobe were already worn and frayed from constant reading. A common private school outside Prince Ning’s mansion could no longer teach him anything new. To learn more, he had to enter the same Imperial Academy that all princes studied in—to master the art of governance and statecraft.

Besides, Su Xi remembered from the background description that the Imperial Academy had a highly renowned Grand Tutor.

So rather than saying this quest was about befriending the Second Prince, it would be more accurate to say—it was about using the Second Prince as a bridge to enter the Imperial Academy.

Although the game’s ultimate goal was to help the protagonist ascend the throne, the little Zai Zai had always kept a low profile. Su Xi had nearly forgotten his ambition. Now that the main quests were steadily progressing toward that goal, she finally caught a glimpse of his hidden drive.

Ambition was a good thing!

“Then when he ascends the throne, does that mean he’ll start choosing consorts?!”

System: “……”

Su Xi imagined the scene—countless beauties from the common folk lined up before her, their chins gently lifted by her hand, eyes glimmering like autumn waters as they awaited her selection. The thought instantly excited her, and she became eager to earn more points.

Last night she had repaired the chicken coop and turned the soil—improving the external environment—so the system had rewarded her with two points. Her total points now stood at 13—

But she was still a long way from unlocking the next panel!

No, if her little Zai Zai was working hard on his career, how could his “mother” slack off?

Taking advantage of the moment, Su Xi frantically searched around the little Zai Zai’s residence for anything else she could improve. Seeing the bamboo grove leading outside all crooked and slanted, she decided to straighten every single stalk, tapping the screen until her fingers nearly went numb—finally earning another point!

Next, she ran to the kitchen and washed every pile of firewood, every messy pot and bowl—

Basically, she did every bit of labor possible!

Her points only slowly climbed to 15.

At last, she could unlock another area. Su Xi flopped back onto her bed, let out a long breath, and immediately asked the system, “Where is he now?”

System: “He’s already left the Old Madam’s Mei’an Courtyard and is currently at Fourth Aunt’s quarters.”

Su Xi instantly instructed the system to unlock Fourth Aunt’s courtyard.

The courtyard was small, but once unlocked, the neighboring courtyards—including those of the other concubines—became accessible too.

It was an unfamiliar place to Su Xi. The grayish-blue stone path was covered with snow, though compared to her little Zai Zai’s courtyard, it looked better maintained. Someone had swept the snow to the side to prevent slipping—clearly, Prince Ning treated his Fourth Concubine far better than he treated the little Zai Zai.

The little Zai Zai, seeing he had extra cold medicine, worried that Fourth Aunt’s illegitimate daughter might have caught a chill, so he brought the medicine over.

But Fourth Aunt, always cautious and self-serving, couldn’t bear to show even the slightest kindness toward him.

Su Xi immediately felt a flicker of indignation—but knowing it was just part of the game’s design, she quickly pressed down the unease in her chest.

She swiped across the screen to move through Fourth Aunt’s courtyard. Following the covered corridor forward, her view soon caught sight of a small figure in a white, worn-out robe.

It was her little Zai Zai. He was standing there beneath the eaves, seemingly having already delivered the medicine and preparing to head back.

Yet, for some reason, he had paused at the end of the corridor.

What was he looking at?

Su Xi shifted the camera to follow his line of sight—there, under the eaves, an older servant woman was holding a bowl of freshly made osmanthus cake, offering it to a young maid who looked about eleven or twelve.

The old servant’s face was full of gentle affection as she patted the little maid’s head and said softly, “Eat slowly. It’s your birthday today—there’s no rush.”

The interface slowly displayed their names above their heads:

Momo A, Maid A-A.

Su Xi: “……”

Could this game please stop giving everyone such lazy, ridiculous names?!

Still, she understood—those two must be mother and daughter. The servant woman worked at Princess Ning’s side; Su Xi had seen her by the stream before.

As for the little maid, she had likely been assigned to Fourth Aunt’s quarters by Princess Ning to keep watch.

But regardless of the schemes and rivalries between the mistress and concubines, the maid’s mother had still remembered her daughter’s birthday and, even at personal risk, had snuck over to bring her a warm treat.

When Su Xi turned the camera back toward the corridor, however, the small white-robed figure was already gone.

Su Xi: “?”

She suddenly asked, “When is the protagonist’s birthday?”

The system pulled up the background profile again—

And there it was: today!

Su Xi smacked her forehead. She’d seen that bit in the background before and hadn’t remembered a thing—what a pig brain!

The text read:

> [Lu Huan, the concubine-born son, was born on the same day as the current Crown Prince. However, their birth hours were in conflict. At the moment of Lu Huan’s birth, Prince Ning offended the Emperor in the palace and nearly lost his title. From that day onward, Prince Ning came to believe Lu Huan had blocked his career path and became cold and distant toward him. The mother who died giving birth to Lu Huan was hastily buried, and no one in Prince Ning’s manor was permitted to remember his birthday.]

No wonder—just now, she had noticed that outside the courtyard walls, the atmosphere was lively and festive, with lanterns and banners everywhere and faint music drifting through the snow. So it turned out today was the Crown Prince’s birthday, a grand celebration for the entire capital. The palace held lavish banquets, and even the city streets were bustling with joy.

Yet on this very same day, her little Zai Zai’s courtyard lay silent and deserted. His lone footprints in the snow were already being swallowed by the wind.

A swelling tightness rose in Su Xi’s chest—an ache she couldn’t quite name. Then, a sudden thought struck her. She quickly switched the view back to the firewood yard!

She asked the system, “How long until he gets back?!”

The system calculated. “He’s reached the stream. About three minutes’ walk.”

That’s enough time!

Su Xi tapped open the in-game shop at lightning speed and began frantically picking out items.

The shop’s birthday gifts were abundant—all sorts of items from the mortal world of ancient times: rabbit lanterns, sugar figurines, calligraphy, paintings, and so on. But Su Xi had no time to browse carefully.

After searching for a while, she finally found the section for longevity noodles.

She carefully selected a bowl that looked the most piping hot and fragrant.

Her movements quick and decisive, she placed the bowl on the kitchen stove. As soon as it appeared, white steam rose up, illuminated by the faint firelight beneath the stove, making the noodles look especially appetizing.

Su Xi even made sure to add a soft-boiled sweet egg on top.

Just then, footsteps sounded from the bamboo grove.

Afraid that her little Zai Zai would come back and go straight to sleep without visiting the kitchen—and thus miss the noodles—Su Xi hurriedly switched the view outside the kitchen and hung a swaying rabbit lantern under the eaves.

───♡───

Lu Huan walked back through the bamboo grove, hearing along the way the festive noise from outside Prince Ning’s residence—the whole capital in celebration. His lips pressed together, his expression unreadable. In truth, every year on this day was no different for him; he had long since grown used to it.

Only… that person—

Hadn’t appeared for three whole days.

…Would they never appear again?

Or perhaps, as he had suspected, the occasional deliveries of things had merely been passing whims—no malice, true, but neither sincerity. Maybe it was just a fleeting moment of sympathy, or amusement? After all, he was nothing but a low-born concubine’s son—why would someone go through such trouble for him?

Lu Huan lowered his gaze, a trace of self-mockery flickering across his eyes.

He clenched his fists slightly, forcing himself to stop thinking. Whoever that person was, whatever their intentions, he would ignore it. He must not let his heart waver—otherwise, he’d be falling right into their snare.

He quickened his pace toward the firewood yard.

But as he passed by the kitchen, something made him pause—an instinct. Without thinking, he looked up.

In that instant, snowflakes drifted down, landing softly on his shoulders. His steps froze. His gaze locked onto the eaves.

Behind him stretched the cold, silent bamboo grove, his lone trail of footprints leading back through the snow. Before him stood the familiar three small kitchens—nothing different from usual. Nothing, except—

A single rabbit lantern hanging under the eaves, glowing warm yellow.

The wind rocked it gently, making its light flicker in fine, trembling ripples. The fragile brightness cut through the night and snow, falling into his dark eyes.

“……”

This—

His breath caught. The heart that had been restless and heavy moments ago suddenly thudded hard in his chest, as if struck by that wavering light that seemed to be waiting just for him to return home.

Then—thump, thump—it beat faster and faster.

He strode quickly into the kitchen—

Empty.

Utterly silent.

A faint, almost imperceptible disappointment flickered across Lu Huan’s eyes.

…Until he turned around—and saw the bowl of longevity noodles sitting on the stove, steam rising warmly into the air.