The Legend of Zhen Huan: Year after year, we share the spring breeze

Seeing that the weather was fine, An Lingrong asked Shen Meiyu to go visit Zhen Huan together.

It was so cold and deserted in the Suiyu Pavilion that you could hear a pin drop.

This was the first time Shen Meizhuang had come to Suiyuxuan since Zhen Huan fell ill. Looking at the furnishings in the palace, the lazy servants, and the fallen leaves that hadn't been swept clean in the courtyard, anger rose in her heart. "How dare the Imperial Household Department neglect you like this? When I return to the Queen, I'll punish them severely."

An Lingrong smiled bitterly. "Empress?" The Empress wished Zhen Huan would remain ill.

"Sister Mei, please don't be angry. Please sit down quickly. Sister An, sit down too. I like quietness when I'm sick and I can't stand the servants moving around." Zhen Huan looked at Shen Meizhuang with a smile. "Besides, you are in the emperor's favor now, so they dare not neglect me too much. Life is going well!"

After saying that, he looked at An Lingrong again, "Judging from your complexion, are you feeling better now?"

An Lingrong sat on the soft stool. "Yes, as soon as I got better, I came to visit you with Sister Mei. How is Sister doing?"

Zhen Huan smiled unnaturally and said, "It's still the same. I need to take care of it slowly. It will be fine when spring comes and the weather gets warmer!"

After that, he asked curiously, "I heard that the emperor gave you a book a few days ago. I wonder if I can take a look at it?"

An Lingrong came here just for this matter.

"The Collection of Nalan's Poems. Nalan was a person from the time of Emperor Kangxi. Oh, no, this seems to be the manuscript of Nalan Rongruo." Zhen Huan could tell the difference of this collection of poems at a glance.

Shen Meizhuang and An Lingrong leaned over curiously, but couldn't figure out what was going on.

An Lingrong then recounted what had happened that day in detail, rewrote the poem and handed it to Zhen Huan.

Zhen Huan read the poem carefully, thought for a moment, and then threw the paper into the brazier next to her, which instantly turned into ashes.

The two looked at her in confusion.

Zhen Huan said sternly, "Sister An, no matter how you knew this poem, never mention it again."

Seeing An Lingrong's confusion, Zhen Huan thought for a moment and then brought up something, "Sister, do you know anything about the Nanshan Collection case during the reign of Emperor Kangxi?"

An Lingrong shook her head.

Zhen Huan explained in detail:

Nanshan Ji, a collection of Ming dynasty history compiled by Dai Mingshi, draws heavily on material from Fang Xiaobiao. Fang Xiaobiao was exiled for his father's crimes, but two years later, he was pardoned and defected to Wu Sangui. Later, when Wu Sangui rebelled against the Qing, Fang Xiaobiao surrendered first, sparing his life. Returning to Nanjing, he became a monk and compiled a collection of unusual events from the Southern Ming period in Yunnan and Guizhou into Dianqian Jiwen (Yunnan and Guizhou Chronicles). Dai Mingshi, a fellow townsman, collected these anecdotes in Nanshan Ji, citing the year following Zhu Youlang's death as the founding year of the Qing dynasty. Later, an imperial censor accused Dai Mingshi of being a dissolute official with strong anti-Qing ideologies. Dai Mingshi was executed by slow slicing, and all his clansmen were beheaded and thrown into the streets, with their children exiled to the frontier. Anyone implicated in Nanshan Ji was hanged. Fang Xiaobiao's body was exhumed and mutilated, and other officials implicated were demoted and dismissed from office. The entire case implicated hundreds of people, with over 300 sentenced to death alone.

After Zhen Huan finished explaining, An Lingrong still didn't quite understand.

Shen Meizhuang sighed and said, "Think carefully about the content of your poem."

An Lingrong thought about the meaning of the poem again, and finally realized it, her lips trembling: "I, I..."

"Don't be afraid, Sister An. The Emperor knows this poem has nothing to do with you, so he didn't blame you. He gave you this collection of Nalan's poems so you can read more of them and forget the others. This is also his way of protecting you." Zhen Huan helped An Lingrong analyze the situation and raised the book in her hand. "This is a manuscript, the only one in the world. It shows how much the Emperor loves you."

An Lingrong finally breathed a sigh of relief. As expected, the heroine was the one who knew the emperor best.

However, she could not bear the emperor's "love" and only hoped that the emperor could forget her.

"Sister An, you must remember to be careful with your words and actions in the future."

An Lingrong slapped herself twice, causing Zhen Huan and Shen Meizhuang to immediately grab one of her hands. "My mouth was the cause of trouble last time, and it's the same this time. Just give me a bowl of poison to make me mute, and that'll save you the trouble."

Shen Meizhuang laughed and said, "You! I told you to be careful with your words and actions, but you still talk nonsense!"

An Lingrong held their hands and said solemnly, "Thank you both sisters for your help. Lingrong is very grateful."

I thought I could help them both, but I didn't expect that if it weren't for them, I would have died several times!

A few days later, Yongzheng finally turned over An Lingrong's green card.

Aunt Jiao Yin arrived at the Yanx Palace early in the morning, washed An Lingrong from head to toe, smeared perfume on her body, and rolled her into the shape of an old Beijing chicken roll with a brocade quilt. Two eunuchs from the Jingshifang carried her to the dragon couch in the Yangxin Palace.

Ding, your Ele.me takeaway has been delivered.

An Lingrong lay on the bed speechless. Although she often drooled over handsome guys with eight-pack abs in her previous life, she had never had a serious relationship. Now she had to devote herself to an old man who was nearly fifty years old. Although the emperor was well maintained and was a handsome and elegant uncle, he was really not the type An Lingrong liked.

Hey, that’s not right. The soul is mine, but the body is not mine.

Thinking of this, An Lingrong felt less nervous.

The air conditioning temperature in the Yangxin Palace is too high. An Lingrong is sweating slightly.

The western clock struck nine, but Yongzheng was still reviewing memorials.