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In the depths of the palace, a lady was singing an old yet simple tune, her voice sounding weak yet far-reaching.

Meng Fuyao's heart skipped and beat and felt goosebumps on her skin. From the corner of her eye, she spotted a flash of light. Tilting her head, she saw two narrow streams of water flowing down Zhan Beiye's face, while he was intently listening on the wall.

The tears gathered into a drop of water on the face of the man who never cried, and slowly, it fell.

That drop of water reflected the moonlight, and it was frighteningly bright.

Meng Fuyao pressed her fingers into the wall.

They were a pitiful pair of mother and son in the royal family.

Day and night, the mother did not sleep, and continuously sang in the garden that was nearest to the wall; a wall away, the son was tear-stricken, listening to the yearning voice of his mother who was so near, and yet he could not meet her.

The mother had gone berserk, but she was acutely aware of her son's situation — the son rushed his journey and was willing to sacrifice everything to dash back to her side, but he could only imagine her withered face outside the palace wall.

So close, yet so far.

Meng Fuyao pressed her forehead against the cold wall, and she too became tearful, as she thought of her hospitalized mother in the previous world.

Was she also waiting for her and singing the tune ”Good Baby” whenever she missed her?

Did she also go through sleepless nights and instead visited the garden under the moonlight, caressing the resting flower buds with her weak fingers?

Her silent tears stained the dark red walls, and Zhan Beiye looked towards her. The tears had dried up in his eyes, but those eyes carried additional emotions of pity and dejection. His movements were constrained on the wall, so he reached out and gently patted Meng Fuyao on her shoulder.

Meng Fuyao gave him a forceful smile, and the light and shadow in her eyes looked like a sky of broken stars.

Looking at her felt like he was glancing at a scar he had from birth, one that was painful but inseparable.

This girl who would cry because of him…

These people that he was determined to protect in his life…

Determination burned in his eyes. With a slight shift of his body, he was about to flip over the wall.

”… I do not know when my son will be back…”

”Consort Dowager Gongjing.”

The sudden male voice made both Meng Fuyao and Zhan Beiye jump in shock. With her quick reflexes, Meng Fuyao quickly grabbed on to Zhan Beiye, stopping him in his tracks.

”It's late, it will be better for you to head back to your room and rest,” it sounded like a eunuch trying to persuade Zhan Beiye's mother.

There was no reply as she continued to sing.

”Please enter your room!” another male said, and he sounded young but cold. His spoke slowly, placing special emphasis on ”Please”.

The eunuchs and servants seemed to have received instructions as there was the sound of footsteps, and then the singing stopped, as though someone had held on to the Consort Dowager. However, she seemed unwilling to cooperate as there were sounds of struggling, panting, kicking and dragging.

”Ouch!” someone cried. ”She bit me!”

When they heard the struggling, Meng Fuyao immediately pressed down Zhan Beiye.

In an instant, his eyeballs turned red, and his hair stood on end. Meng Fuyao wore an expression of pleading, silently begging with her eyes. 'Don't, please don't!'

The palace was full of guards, and that young man was probably his younger brother, waiting for him to fall into the trap. Showing up now was no different from sending himself to death.

Zhan Beiye leaned on the wall, his body shaking tremendously. As he dug his fingers into the wall, a bloody mess of flesh appeared at his knuckles.

He turned his head very, very slowly towards Meng Fuyao… He could dash head in without any fear of death, and face Zhan Beiheng and his traps, just so that he could protect his mother from the servants' rough pulling. His mother was afraid of strangers, and she had never allowed anyone other than him to touch her. Thinking of how scared and helpless she must have felt at that moment, he wanted to suffer in place of her so badly… But, he couldn't.

He was not alone. Meng Fuyao was right beside him.

He wanted to be responsible for his mother, but he also wanted to be responsible for Meng Fuyao. How could he put her in danger because of his selfishness?

Zhan Beiye closed his eyes.

He pressed his forehead against the wall silently and without any motion, but with all his might. Without any regard for his own health, he drilled his head into the wall and rubbed against it, causing the dark-red outer layer to wear off, and staining the wall with a different layer of crimson red. That red area continued to widen, but he refused to stop, as though that was the only way to suppress his pain of not being able to save his mother, even though she was being humiliated.

Meng Fuyao forcefully bit on her lower lip, sinking her teeth deep in. Looking away from Zhan Beiye, she forced herself to think of a way to save his mother, or at least allow them to meet each other. The poor lady really seemed like she had no more strength to persevere.

As the struggle ensued in the palace, Meng Fuyao continued holding back Zhan Beiye, for fear that he would be unable to withstand this grueling torture and suddenly jump up to attack. Amid the commotion, someone spoke.

”Forget it.”

It sounded like the voice of a middle-aged man and had the authoritative tone of a leader who was used to being in power. Beside her, Zhan Beiye's eyebrows twitched, and Meng Fuyao immediately understood that Zhan Nancheng was present as well.