As soon as Wu Yingyue entered the capital of the Northern Province, the bitter wind blew through the cracked windows of the carriage. He lifted the curtain and was stunned.

What greeted him was not a city, but a grave of frozen sorrow.

The gates were half-collapsed and frost thick on the stone. Outside the walls, rows upon rows of refugees huddled together wrapped in tattered quilts with eyes hollow and lips blue. Some had dug holes in the snow just to shield themselves from the wind. Others simply knelt there like statues.

Wu Yingyue stepped down from the carriage, with a flick of sleeve indicating servants to distribute the food. The moment his boots touched the icy ground, the crowd surged forward.

"Your Highness!"
"Help us!"
"Please, save my child—save my family!"

He barely had time to speak before dozens of them knelt in front of him, heads bowed to the ground, sobbing and pleading.

He was anxious but how could he not be? He forced his voice to remain steady.

"The court has already ordered relief efforts," he announced. "There are soup kitchens in the south and west districts. Grain has been allocated. You will not be abandoned."

A low murmur of relief passed through the crowd, but before it could settle, a scream tore the air.

"Child! My child!"

Everyone turned. A woman stumbled through the snow, holding a limp bundle in her arms. Her hair was loose, eyes bloodshot. "Wake up, please wake up!"

A physician pushed through the crowd to examine the boy. Moments later, his expression darkened. "This child... he was only five," he said softly to Wu Yingyue. "He hadn't eaten in days. When food finally came, he choked... It was too late. His body couldn't take it."

Wu Yingyue stood frozen. He looked down at the mother, who knelt on the snow, wailing and rocking the lifeless child. Her fingers were frostbitten, but she rubbed the lifeless body with gentle hands trying to warm a corpse.

"Please!" she sobbed. "He's only five! He's still warm—please, Your Highness! You are the Crown Prince. If you don't save us, who will?"

"He is dead, please understand lady," Lingling stepped forward and gently patted the woman.

The woman fell to the ground, clutching the boy to her chest. Her cries shattered the already-fragile calm. "No... no! You're lying! He's just sleeping! He's just tired from being hungry!"

"I..." Wu Yingyue's lips moved, but no sound came out. His fists clenched inside his sleeves.

She crawled toward Wu Yingyue, still holding the child, her forehead striking the ground again and again. Blood bloomed on her head, but she didn't stop.

"Please save him! You are the Crown Prince! Please!"

It was then a voice rang out from the crowd,

"This is divine punishment!"

Heads turned.

"It didn't snow like this before! Not like this! Three years ago, everything changed! The Second Prince disappeared, and now this false one sits in his place—Heaven is angry! This snow is a curse!"

"This is punishment!" someone screamed, supporting the voice. "Heaven is punishing us!"

More murmurs spread like wildfire.

"Heaven is angry!"

"The Crown Prince has brought this disaster upon us!"

"This snow is punishment—!"

"It's all the prince's fault! This is a disaster sent from heaven to warn the world!"

Then chaos broke loose.

Someone threw a rock. Someone else shouted for justice. A man with a sickle surged from the crowd, eyes bloodshot and struck.

Wu Yingyue staggered back but before the blade could reach him, Zhou Wangshu was already there. The sickle dug in Wu Yingyue's shoulder, narrowly missing his neck, and blood splattered onto the snow.

The soldiers rushed in, but it was too late to contain it all. The crowd was scattering, some screaming, some still weeping.

Zhou Wangshu stepped beside him, his hand gripping Wu Yingyue's arm to steady him.

"Are you hurt?" Zhou Wangshu asked quietly.

Wu Yingyue did not answer.

In the chaos, where no one noticed, several figures quietly slipped away from the crowd.

Zhou Wangshu caught the flicker of movement too late. His brows furrowed, but he said nothing.

The soldiers were too busy trying to regain control, herding the frightened refugees back into lines and preventing any more violence. The mother's wails still echoed like a curse through the frost-bitten air.

Wu Yingyue finally looked away from the snow.

"Let's go back," he said softly.

As he turned, his knees buckled as blood soaking through the layers of his robe, staining the snow beneath him. The world tilted. Zhou Wangshu caught him just in time.

"Your Highness!"

Wu Yingyue blinked slowly, as if unsure of what was happening. He had lost too much blood.

"Don't... don't let the refugees panic again," he murmured, breathing shallowly. "They can't take more chaos."

"You need a physician." Zhou Wangshu's voice was tight.

He didn't argue. He didn't have the strength to.

On his way back to camp, he finally collapsed.

==============================================================================================================================================

Inside the Crown Prince's camp, the brazier burned low. The air was thick with the scent of medicine and blood.

Wu Yingyue lay unconscious on the bed, his robes removed, and bandages wrapped tightly around his shoulder and side. The imperial physician worked quickly as his hands stained red and sweat beading on his brow despite the cold.

"This wound was deep. Had it been just a few inches to the right..." he muttered, shaking his head. "His Highness is fortunate."

Zhou Wangshu stood nearby, arms crossed and nodded.

After some time, the bleeding stopped, and Wu Yingyue's breathing grew steadier. The physician finally stepped back and bowed. "His Highness should rest. Do not disturb him unless necessary."

Everyone retreated but Guang Ze remained by the bed, not moving from Wu yingyue side.

Late that night,

The moon hung low and pale outside the thin curtain.

Wu Yingyue stirred in pain, eyes fluttering open. His entire body felt heavy, dulled by medicine, but the ache in his side reminded him he was still alive.

Guang Ze sat beside him, hunched slightly over the brazier rubbing his hands over the gentle flames.

"...Still here?" Wu Yingyue's voice was hoarse.

Guang Ze turned quickly, eyes soft with concern. "You're awake."

"I thought I was dead."

"You nearly were," Guang Ze said quietly, then helped him sit up slightly and passed him warm water. "The wound was deep. You've been unconscious for half a day."

Wu Yingyue drank in silence,"...What's happening outside?" he asked.

"They managed to calm the refugees, but... the rumors are spreading. Some say this is divine punishment. That the Crown Prince brings misfortune."

Wu Yingyue didn't respond for a moment. His eyes looked past the window.

"...We used to play in snow like this, do you remember?" he said suddenly.

Guang Ze blinked. "In the palace courtyard. You, me, and the Second Prince."

"Mn. Wu Ziming always made the biggest snow statues. Mine looked like melted buns."

"You got angry and kicked his snowman over," Guang Ze smiled faintly handing Wu Yingyue medical soup by physician.

"And then he used to cry all afternoon, and I used to coax him with sweets. " Wu Yingyue said with a fond smile.

"Back then... things were simpler."

The brazier flickered low, casting a faint orange glow across Wu Yingyue's pale face. Outside the tent, snow crunched under the steps of patrolling guards. But inside it was all still.

Guang Ze sat quietly beside the bed, hands folded on his lap, waiting as Wu Yingyue slowly finished the last of his medicinal soup.

There was a long silence.

Then, in a voice low and faint, Wu Yingyue spoke:

"My father is suspicious by nature. My second brother... he was always the favored one. Loved dearly by his mother, admired by the officials. Even the commoners adored him."

He paused, eyes fixed on the brazier's flame, instead of the window. "He had the support of the Zhou family. Master Zhou's influence ran deep. And Master Zhou... he always hated me."

Guang Ze's brow twitched slightly, but he said nothing.

Wu Yingyue's lips curled bitterly. "I look too much like my father. That's what they say. General Zhou hated that. My father fears the Zhou family's power, but he envies it too. He always has. It's like a thorn in his throat, he can't swallow it, and he can't spit it out."

He leaned back against the cushions, his breath shallow from speaking.

"If my father were to learn that Wu Ziming is still alive..." He gave a soft hollow laugh. "He wouldn't sleep a single night in peace again."

"You've thought this through?"

Wu Yingyue nodded weakly. "Because I have no other choice."

His gaze shifted toward Guang Ze, eyes dark with exhaustion and clarity.

"I was never the one they wanted. Not my mother. Not the court. Not even the Wu Imperial family. I was born when my mother was still under father's control. Not like my brothers, born when their love had thawed. I was the tie between her and a man she resented. Even as a child, I could feel it."

He paused, then spoke more slowly, "And now, I've broken with the Zhou family entirely."

"If the court wants to pit me and the Zhou family against each other to maintain balance... If the emperor wants to use me as a pawn to steady his crumbling throne..."

His eyelashes lowered casting a shadow on his delicate face.

"Then what am I, Guang Ze?"

Silence took over the room for a moment but as if something inside him finally cracked, Wu Yingyue continued, "For several days in a row, I've submitted petitions to the court begging them to open the warehouses and release grain. The price has skyrocketed in the northern provinces. The people can't even afford coarse millet. Children are starving. Merchants are hoarding grain in broad daylight."

A dry and bitter laugh came from him, "I wrote everything down. Detailed the situation, names, dates, numbers, proposals... I handed it all to them like a servant laying out dishes, hoping for a glance of favor."

His gaze dropped.

"But there's been no reply. Not even a refusal. Just silence."

Guang Ze's brow furrowed, "No answer at all?"

"None, not a single reply."

He finally exhaled as if his body was tired of holding the weight of it all. Then, like a child folding into himself, he bowed his head, pressing his forehead lightly against his palm.