If Jiuzhu were to evaluate the longevity banquet hosted by the Pingyuan Marquisate, she would say that the food was delicious.
Seated at the head of the table was the Old Lady of Pingyuan Marquis Manor. Despite her advanced age, she exuded an innate grace and elegance, with no trace of the weariness often seen in the elderly.
In contrast, the Lady of Pingyuan Marquis, who was busy entertaining the guests, wore a smile that seemed somewhat forced, likely due to her concern for her seriously ill husband.
From the start of the banquet until now, the Pingyuan Marquis had only sat at the table briefly, supported by a servant, before excusing himself and leaving without touching a single bite of food or drink.
If Jiuzhu hadn’t personally heard about the Marquis’s grave illness, she might have doubted whether it was true at all.
The elegant and dignified Old Lady, the meticulous Lady of the Marquisate, and the composed children of the household—amidst the bustling and opulent celebration, Jiuzhu couldn’t help but feel a creeping unease as she observed the Zheng Family’s every detail.
After the meal, maids brought water for the guests to rinse their hands and mouths. Jiuzhu noticed the Old Lady affectionately holding Prince Qi’s hand, her smile radiating warmth and kindness.
Jiuzhu recalled what her masters had once told her.
Beneath the surface of beauty and splendor, one might find rare treasures, but also the most vile and rotting filth.
“Now that we’ve eaten, let’s take a stroll in the garden to aid digestion,” Lady Shen said, knowing Jiuzhu had no interest in the opera performances. She adjusted Jiuzhu’s collar gently. “We’ll leave in half an hour.”
“Alright,” Jiuzhu replied. She had no interest in the poetry or marriage discussions among the ladies, nor was she particularly impressed by the Zheng Family’s refined elegance. Taking her mother’s advice, she headed to the nearby bamboo grove to sit for a while.
The bamboo grove was quiet and serene, with the occasional chirping of birds. Jiuzhu picked up a few small stones from the ground and sat at a table, playing a game of tossing stones with a few maids.
“Miss, I used to play this often as a child, but I could never beat you,” one of the maids sighed in admiration. “Your fingers are so nimble.”
“It’s quite simple,” Jiuzhu said, tossing a few stones into the air and catching them effortlessly. “It’s just a matter of practice.”
She had done far more than just catch stones—her masters had once made her chase rabbits all over the mountains.
“There’s a trick to it. Come, let me show you,” Jiuzhu beckoned the maids to sit down. “Your hand and eye speed need to match. Don’t let your hand deceive your eyes…”
Behind the bamboo grove, Prince Qi paused when he heard the sound of a woman’s voice.
Even without looking, he knew it was the young lady from the Ming Family.
The wind rustled through the bamboo, and Prince Qi glanced at the faint silhouette of a figure in light pink before turning to leave.
“Your Highness.”
Turning around, Prince Qi saw Sun Caiyao approaching him. He smiled gently. “Miss Sun.”
“Miss, could you demonstrate one more time? My eyes are keeping up, but my hands aren’t…”
“Alright, but this is the last time.”
Sun Caiyao glanced toward the bamboo grove and curtsied slightly to Prince Qi. “Your Highness,” she said with a smile. “I wonder which young ladies are playing in the grove.”
Prince Qi chuckled but said nothing.
He was always so gentle and considerate toward women. His gaze felt like a warm spring breeze, effortlessly stirring one’s heart.
From the grove came the light, carefree laughter of a young girl. Though soft, each laugh felt like a needle piercing Sun Caiyao’s heart.
Half a year ago, she had dreamed of a future—a dream whose truth she couldn’t discern.
In that dream, the carefree girl in the grove would marry the man before her, becoming the envy of countless women as the Princess Consort of Qi.
The dream was chaotic, but upon waking, she remembered only that Prince Chen, the Emperor’s beloved, would die two days before Consort Su’s birthday. The Princess Consort of Qi, having privately spoken with Consort Su, would earn the disdain of Consort Ning, and her relationship with Prince Qi would grow increasingly distant.
If the dream were true, then perhaps it was a good thing that Jiuzhu hadn’t yet married Prince Qi—at least she wouldn’t face the scorn of her mother-in-law or the coldness of her husband.
But whether the events of the dream would come to pass or not, Sun Caiyao didn’t want Prince Qi and Jiuzhu to have any chance of growing closer.
She didn’t believe in fate or dreams—she believed only in herself.
“Miss,” Chunfen whispered to Jiuzhu. “There seems to be someone behind the bamboo grove. Should I go take a look?”
“Don’t!” Jiuzhu grabbed Chunfen’s wrist. “If you don’t know who’s speaking or what they’re saying, it’s best not to look.”
“Curiosity…” Jiuzhu stood up and led Chunfen in another direction.
Curiosity could be deadly.
As they left the bamboo grove, Jiuzhu spotted the middle-aged man with a scar on his chin again. He was dressed as a steward and, upon seeing Jiuzhu emerge from the grove, he greeted her with a servile smile and a deep bow.
Jiuzhu paused as she passed him, turning to look at him.
Startled by the noble lady’s sudden attention, the man bowed even lower, his head almost touching the ground.
“Are you a steward of the Marquisate?”
“Yes, my lady. I am an outer courtyard steward. If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to command me.”
Jiuzhu studied him for a moment. “Stand farther away.”
“What?”
Jiuzhu left with her maid, leaving the steward puzzled. What did the lady mean by that?
He touched the scar on his chin. Was it because the scar was too ugly, frightening the noble lady? Thinking of how he got the scar, his expression darkened.
After the guests had left, the smile on the Old Lady of Pingyuan Marquis Manor’s face slowly faded. She gently fingered her prayer beads. “Zhenzhen, I noticed today that you seemed to be avoiding the young lady from the Ming Family.”
Zheng Zhen stood up nervously. “Grandmother, there was a misunderstanding between me and Miss Ming.”
The Old Lady nodded slowly. “Though she will eventually be cast aside by the Ming Family, until Prince Chen loses power, you must not be discourteous to her.”
If the Ming Family truly valued this daughter, they wouldn’t have sent her to live in a Taoist temple for so many years under the pretense of poor health and prayers for blessings.
The three Ming brothers were indifferent to Prince Chen. The Emperor thought that by marrying a Ming daughter to Prince Chen, he could secure the family’s support, but he failed to understand the stubbornness of scholars in certain matters.
Years ago, the Ming brothers had been exiled to a harsh, cold land for the sake of the current Emperor. Now, they were willing to sacrifice a daughter for the same principles.
In terms of talent, virtue, and righteousness, Prince Chen was far inferior to Prince Qi. Moreover, Consort Su had long been at odds with the civil officials, making it impossible for the Ming Family to support Prince Chen.
Throughout history, sacrificing an unimportant daughter for the sake of family honor was never uncommon.
“But Grandmother, the Ming Family didn’t bring any male guests today,” Zheng Wangnan said, concerned that the Ming Family might grow closer to Consort Su and her son, causing trouble for Prince Qi.
“Whether they come or not is unimportant,” the Old Lady replied with a smile. “As long as they don’t support Prince Chen, that’s enough for us.”
“My ears are burning,” Jiuzhu said in the carriage, covering her red ears. “Is someone talking about me behind my back?”
Lady Shen laughed at her daughter’s pouting expression and draped a cloak over her. “The weather is getting colder. Don’t let your ears get frostbitten.”
Jiuzhu was puzzled. She wasn’t cold.
It must be someone gossiping about her.
Wrapped in the thick cloak, Jiuzhu felt a bit warm and secretly lifted the carriage curtain a crack. She spotted Prince Chen riding on horseback.
“Prince Chen,” Jiuzhu leaned out, smiling. “Where are you going?”
Seeing the little head poking out of the carriage, Prince Chen rode closer and bent down to look at her. “The royal stables have just received a batch of spirited horses. I’m going to take a look.”
“Oh,” Jiuzhu replied. She wasn’t particularly skilled at riding and had little interest in spirited horses, so she pulled her head halfway back inside.
“Since we’ve run into each other, why don’t I take you to pick out a horse?” Prince Chen found it a bit tiring to speak while bent over, so he dismounted. “The royal stables have many adorable foals. You can choose whichever one you like, and I’ll give it to you.”
“Prince Chen.”
A woman’s voice came from inside the carriage, and Prince Chen was momentarily surprised. A finely dressed woman stepped out and curtsied to him.
It was his future mother-in-law, Lady Shen.
Prince Chen thought for a moment, then let go of the reins and returned a half-bow.
Lady Shen sidestepped slightly to avoid the full bow and glanced at her daughter, who was still peeking out from the carriage. She had bowed to Prince Chen countless times, but this was the first time he had returned even a half-bow.
In the past, their interactions had been limited to formal courtesies—one bowing, the other receiving. But now, as Lady Shen watched Prince Chen prepare to take her precious daughter to the royal stables to pick a horse, her feelings were complicated.
“I didn’t realize Lady Shen was also in the carriage. I, this prince…” Prince Chen turned his head and caught sight of Jiuzhu’s bright, curious eyes. His words faltered, and he quickly corrected himself: “This humble one has been impolite.”
Sigh. He had never been fond of dealing with the wives and daughters of civil officials. Conversations with them were always so exhausting.
“Your Highness is too kind,” Lady Shen replied with a polite smile. Even if you dared to be impolite, what could I possibly say?
The royal stables, the emperor’s personal horses—who else but Prince Chen would have the audacity to casually pick a horse there, and even coax her daughter into joining him?
“Do you have any white ponies?” Jiuzhu asked eagerly. When she was very young, she had gone shopping in Lingzhou City with her teachers and seen a wealthy young master leading a pure white pony. It had been absolutely adorable.
“We do,” Prince Chen replied, subtly gesturing for her to come closer. “So, are you coming?”
Jiuzhu was tempted. Her toes inched toward the edge of the carriage, and she stole a few glances at Lady Shen.
“Come back early,” Lady Shen said, pretending not to notice Prince Chen’s subtle gestures behind his back. “You don’t know how to ride, so stay away from the spirited horses.”
“Please don’t worry, Madam. I—this humble one—will take good care of her.”
Lady Shen inwardly scoffed. It was precisely because she was going out with this troublemaker that she was most uneasy.
“Don’t worry, Mother. I’ll be on my best behavior,” Jiuzhu assured her before hopping out of the carriage and running over to Prince Chen, her face radiant with excitement. “A white pony, a white pony, I want a white pony!”
Lady Shen was puzzled. Her daughter was usually distant and formal with other young men. Why was she so trusting of Prince Chen?
She studied Prince Chen’s face. Could it be that a man’s looks could bewitch a woman’s heart?
What a devastatingly handsome troublemaker!
As she turned back to the carriage, Lady Shen lifted the curtain and saw her daughter waving goodbye with an innocent, joyful smile.
Oh well.
Lady Shen let the curtain fall. This was her daughter’s future husband, after all. She needed to maintain a good attitude and not let herself get upset. Her daughter was still young and would need her guidance in the future. She couldn’t afford to let her health suffer from frustration.
On the bright side, at least Prince Chen had referred to himself as “this humble one” in her presence.
The royal stables were home to a variety of fine horses. Jiuzhu gazed at the seemingly endless rows of paddocks and exclaimed, “How much money does it take to raise so many horses?”
“Little one, think bigger,” Prince Chen said, twirling a riding crop in his hand. “These horses are the finest breeds carefully selected from stables across the country. Under the meticulous care of the grooms, they are bred to produce the best warhorses, which are then sent in large numbers to the army. A good warhorse is a soldier’s greatest weapon.”
“That’s amazing,” Jiuzhu said, her eyes wide with admiration. Though she didn’t understand much about horse breeding, she knew that any horse capable of helping soldiers defend the borders must be exceptional.
Seeing Jiuzhu’s admiration, Prince Chen grew more enthusiastic. He explained the strengths of various breeds and eventually helped her pick out a small pony.
“Here, try riding it,” Prince Chen said, personally adjusting the saddle for her.
Jiuzhu hesitated, not wanting to appear timid in front of her dashing companion. “I’m just a little scared. Just a tiny bit.”
Her feet were already shuffling backward, and yet she claimed it was only a little?
Prince Chen chuckled and, with one hand, lifted Jiuzhu by the waist and effortlessly placed her on the pony’s back.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said, finding himself unusually patient with this slightly naive young lady. “I’ll lead you.”
“Then… don’t let go, okay? It’s not that I’m scared, I’m just not familiar with the royal stables,” Jiuzhu said, straightening her back with determination. But as soon as the pony began to move, she timidly hunched over again.
“Alright, I won’t let go,” Prince Chen replied, one hand holding the reins and the other covering his amused smile.
Hmm, she was just a little timid, like a puppy. Not scared at all.
“Your Highness,” a servant approached and whispered, “The horse you selected has been saddled. Shall we begin the training?”
Prince Chen glanced at the timid “puppy” on the pony’s back and sighed.
“Never mind. We’ll come back another time.”
Why had he brought this little girl to the stables in the first place?
