After dining and freshening up at his younger brother's residence, Ming Jinghai stepped outside to find the palace carriage awaiting him at the gates of the Ming family manor.
As they passed the Ministry of Rites, Ming Jinghai noticed its vermilion-lacquered doors and the imposing stone lions flanking the entrance. He turned to the coachman: "Eight months ago, when I left the capital, the Ministry didn’t look like this."
"Your Excellency, the Ministry has been undergoing renovations," the coachman explained. "The stone lions and paving stones were recently replaced."
The carriage wheels rolled over the newly laid flagstones, and Ming Jinghai studied the rebuilt walls in silence.
"Your Excellency must be wondering why such extensive changes were made?"
Ming Jinghai glanced at the imperial coachman with amusement. "You’ve guessed correctly."
"Some time ago, His Highness Prince Chen was assigned to oversee the Ministry by His Majesty. Seeing its dilapidated state, the prince couldn’t bear the thought of officials working in such poor conditions and petitioned the Emperor for repairs." The coachman lightly flicked the reins. "Before long, the Ministry was transformed."
"My thanks for the explanation." Ming Jinghai lowered the carriage curtain and stroked his freshly shaven chin. There were three routes from his brother’s home to the palace—only the longest one passed directly by the Ministry’s front gate before entering through the Vermilion Bird Gate.
Had this coachman deliberately drawn his attention to the Ministry’s changes? Was this the Emperor’s design, or the driver’s own initiative?
Upon meeting Emperor Longfeng, Ming Jinghai presented the confidential evaluation reports of officials and recounted his observations along the way.
"We’ve missed your service, dear subject." The Emperor guided Ming Jinghai to a seat. "With loyal ministers like you, We are spared the fate of becoming a blind ruler upon the throne..."
"Your Majesty flatters this unworthy servant." Ming Jinghai’s eyes reddened slightly. "To earn Your Majesty’s trust is an honor worth dying for."
Deeply moved, Emperor Longfeng patted his shoulder. "Good, good, good."
After this triple praise, the conversation turned casual. The Emperor inquired after Ming Jinghai’s health and journey, then gently broached another matter: "We know your bond with your late wife ran deep. Yet with her passing these many years, your household lacks a mistress’s care. Perhaps We might select a worthy lady to attend to your needs?"
"Your Majesty’s kindness humbles me. At fifty, I’ve grown accustomed to solitude—why burden some fine young woman? Flowers and jade deserve better than a twice-widowed man with two grown sons, let alone the duties of managing my household."
"Nonsense! A man of your talents disparages himself too easily."
"Your Majesty." Ming Jinghai shook his head with a smile. "I pledged undying loyalty when I married my wife in youth. That she departed early is misfortune enough—how could I face her in the afterlife having broken my vow?"
Seeing his sincerity, the Emperor relented. "Since we’ve been parted so long, tonight you shall drink and converse with Us till dawn."
Ming Jinghai rose and bowed. "As Your Majesty commands."
———
"Your Highness, His Majesty sends word that he’ll be conversing with Ming Jinghai tonight and cannot visit. He bids you not to kick off the blankets and to retire early." Xiangjuan approached Consort Su. "Shall I convey any message?"
"Ming Jinghai?" The consort’s beautiful eyes flickered. "He’s returned?"
Xiangjuan nodded. "Eunuch Liu said he arrived today."
"As Jiuzhu’s uncle, he’s effectively family to my son." After a pause, Consort Su instructed: "Send those new pastries from the kitchen to Taiyang Palace—say they’re for His Majesty and Ming Jinghai to sample."
Xiangjuan blinked in surprise. Never before had the consort sent food during imperial audiences.
"The Ming family is different." A knowing smile played on Consort Su’s lips. "Just do as I say."
"Yes, Your Highness." Xiangjuan personally delivered the delicacies to Liu Zhongbao. "Eunuch Liu, if you please."
"Of course, Auntie." The eunuch accepted the box without inspecting its contents. "This servant takes his leave."
After his departure, Xiangjuan found the consort gazing absently at her mirror. Gently massaging her shoulders, she ventured: "Missing Miss Ming?"
Consort Su laughed. "Don’t tease—lest the Mings think I’m stealing their daughter."
"This gloomy weather reminds me of an old memory." Removing her phoenix hairpin, the consort reclined on the daybed. "Remember eight years ago, when Du Qing and I fished from a pleasure boat in Lingzhou? The child he rescued—that girl of about nine?"
"Why recall that now?" Xiangjuan stored the hairpin as a maid brought a stool. "You warned His Highness never to speak of it."
"I don’t know why, but I keep seeing that little girl—how she wept silently without a sound." Consort Su gave a self-deprecating smile. "Am I growing old?"
"Nonsense! No sixteen-year-old could rival Your Highness." Xiangjuan chuckled. "It’s just your tender heart sympathizing."
"We’d meant to try Lingzhou’s famous baked fish that day, but saving that child meant missing the meal." Closing her eyes, the consort murmured: "A fair trade—one dish for a life."
"Kindness begets blessings. Your compassion will be rewarded." Noticing her mistress’s drowsiness, Xiangjuan draped a quilt over her and sat quietly in vigil.
She remembered it well—the planned imperial incognito trip for Lingzhou’s fish abandoned when urgent dispatches arrived. To console the disappointed prince, the consort had taken him boating. Instead of fish, his line had hauled up a bound child.
Plump and fair-skinned, clearly well-cared for, the girl had survived because thick winter clothes kept her afloat despite tied limbs. Frozen stiff, gagged mute—only when Du Qing removed the cloth and wrapped her in his fox-fur cloak did she begin shivering with silent tears.
After changing into dry clothes and accepting candies from the prince, she finally spoke—yet refused to reveal her origins.
Xiangjuan barely recalled the child’s words, only the startling clarity of her eyes as she performed an almost monastic bow, vowing: "This unworthy one will repay Your Highnesses’ mercy."
As if carving their faces into her soul.
After the incident, the Empress secretly sent people to investigate Lingzhou City and learned that a child trafficking case had occurred there. The local soldiers were tracking the kidnappers, and along the way, they discovered several children who had been abandoned in haste by the traffickers.
It seemed that the little girl was also one of those discarded by the kidnappers.
The child had no idea how vast the world was, nor that the Empress was no ordinary noblewoman. In all likelihood, she would never have the chance to meet Her Majesty again in her lifetime.
"If I had known the girl was merely taken by traffickers, I wouldn’t have spoken to her so gravely," the Empress murmured before leaving Lingzhou. She worried the child might have taken her words too seriously and refrained from telling her family anything.
Recalling these memories, Xiangjuan shook her head. At that time, the Empress had only recently emerged from the bloody struggles between the princes, surviving countless assassination attempts and schemes, leaving her overly cautious and wary in her actions.
If it were the Empress now, she would have immediately ordered a thorough investigation and even gone to the Emperor to complain and seek comfort.
With a sigh, Xiangjuan stepped outside and gazed at the exquisitely ornate imperial palace. How many within these walls had become casualties of the ruthless power struggles?
The Emperor, the Empress, the other consorts—though they appeared as victors in these battles, the shadows of that bloody conflict still lingered over the palace.
Perhaps...
She withdrew her gaze and turned to look at the sleeping Empress.
Perhaps it would all continue.
At dinner, the palace servants laid out the dishes. Liu Zhongbao placed a plate of pastries on the table. "Your Majesty, these are new pastries from Consort Su’s palace. She instructed this servant to bring them for you and Lord Ming to enjoy."
"Consort Su is most thoughtful," Emperor Longfeng replied with mild surprise before quickly regaining his composure. He turned to Ming Jinghai. "Minister, the pastries from Mingyue Palace are always delicious. Would you care to try one?"
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Just as Ming Jinghai picked up a pastry with his chopsticks, a servant announced the arrival of Prince Chen.
He glanced at the Emperor and set down his chopsticks, preparing to bow.
"Ah," Emperor Longfeng stopped him with a hand on his arm. "This is a private meal between us. There’s no need for formalities."
Ming Jinghai felt the Emperor's grip—firm enough to convey he wasn’t jesting—and sat back down without further protest.
"Father." Prince Chen entered the inner hall, bowing respectfully to Emperor Longfeng before offering a junior’s greeting to Ming Jinghai. "Lord Ming."
"Your Highness." Ming Jinghai returned the gesture with a polite nod.
"Everyone here is family. Sit and eat." The Emperor motioned for Prince Chen to take a seat. "Your Uncle Ming has traveled across the lands of our great empire, excelling in both civil governance and military strategy. You would do well to learn from him."
Ming Jinghai silently studied the Emperor. With just a few words, His Majesty had casually bestowed upon him a princely nephew—something he hardly dared acknowledge, no matter how boldly the Emperor phrased it.
Prince Chen nodded, already reaching for the dishes.
"Father, how was this pigeon soup prepared? It tastes exceptionally rich." He took another sip. "Could you have the imperial chefs write down the recipe for me? I’d like my own cooks to learn it."
"I recall you never cared much for such broths before," Emperor Longfeng raised an eyebrow. "Has your taste changed recently?"
"Pigeon soup nourishes the mind," Prince Chen declared confidently. "I’ve been studying diligently and thought it would be beneficial."
Besides, it wouldn’t hurt for Ming the Little Pig to have some too. As a prince, it was rather embarrassing to keep eating at his fiancée’s home.
"Your Highness is already wise and brilliant—no need for external aids." Seeing that neither the Emperor nor the prince adhered to the rule of silence during meals, Ming Jinghai set down his chopsticks and spoke. "My humble residence has a few military strategy books I wrote in my spare time—mere amateur musings. If Your Highness has no objection, you may borrow them whenever convenient."
Not long ago, Ming Jingzhou had said the same thing to him.
Prince Chen forced a smile. "Thank you, Minister. I shall visit your estate tomorrow to borrow them."
"They are but crude writings. Your Highness need not trouble yourself."
"To peruse Your Excellency’s works is an honor." Prince Chen maintained his strained smile. "With your talent, even a single word carries wisdom—how could they be crude?"
They were all Ming the Little Pig’s elders. Be polite, be polite.
"Your Highness flatters me. Tomorrow morning, I shall await your esteemed visit." Ming Jinghai smiled faintly before addressing the Emperor. "Your Majesty, I observe that His Highness carries an air of nobility and dignity, reminiscent of Your Majesty in younger days."
Emperor Longfeng laughed heartily at this.
"With the Ming family keeping an eye on this troublesome boy, I can rest easy." The Emperor patted Ming Jinghai’s shoulder. "Minister, he will soon be your son-in-law. Do guide him well."
Ming Jinghai rose and bowed deeply. "Your Majesty’s trust is understood."
When he straightened, he looked at Prince Chen with the affectionate smile unique to elders.
However, his thick brows and large eyes made the prince’s heart skip a beat. The last time he’d felt this way was when he’d given Ming the Little Pig silver and was caught by Ming Jingzhou.
The next morning, after returning home, Ming Jinghai changed clothes and practiced the Five Animals Exercise in the courtyard. His son Ming Cunfu, still yawning and half-asleep, wandered into the main courtyard and startled at the sight of him. "Father, you’re back from the palace so early?"
"The early hours hold the day’s fortune." Ming Jinghai eyed his son’s fine attire. "Where are you off to?"
"I... I’m delivering a poetry collection to Miss Zhou." Ming Cunfu blushed and lowered his head.
"Good. Courting your future wife like a true man." Ming Jinghai handed him a banknote. "Go on. Don’t be stingy in front of the young lady."
Ming Cunfu glanced at the amount—forty taels!
His father was uncharacteristically generous!
"Uncle, Brother Fu." Jiuzhu poked her head through the courtyard gate. "Mother sent me to bring you some hot pastries."
The brothers’ courtyards stood side by side, separated only by a low wall. Ming Cunfu glanced between the two residences. "Little Sister, did you climb the wall again?"
No wonder he hadn’t heard any servants announce her.
"Family shouldn’t stand on ceremony." Jiuzhu smiled sheepishly. The wall was built so low between their homes precisely for convenience.
"Come in, Pearl." Ming Jinghai beckoned her inside, washing his hands before sampling a pastry. "You like climbing walls too?"
Ming Cunfu: "..."
As an elder, wasn’t the inclusion of "too" a bit inappropriate?
Uncle and niece sat at the stone table, and Ming Jinghai urged Jiuzhu to join him. "When your father’s home, I never bother with the front gate either."
"No wonder there are worn marks on that side of the wall—it was you, Uncle!" Jiuzhu, having just eaten breakfast, managed only a few bites. "It does save a lot of time."
"If not for gossip, I’d have built a door right through that wall." Ming Jinghai sighed. "Alas, public opinion is formidable. Even if we care little for rumors, we must consider others."
"Whether there's a gate or not doesn't matter—the wall is so low you could easily climb over it," Jiuzhu said after taking a sip of tea. "Mother said Uncle has been to many fascinating places. Is that true?"
"Of course!" Elderly relatives, when indulging their favorite younger family members, couldn't help but boast a little about their glory days. Ming Jinghai immediately perked up at Jiuzhu's question.
Ming Cunfu watched as one spoke with animated gestures and the other listened with rapt attention, both completely forgetting his existence. He let out a quiet sigh.
"Master, Prince Chen has arrived."
"His Highness?" Jiuzhu, who had been thoroughly engrossed, froze for a moment at the mention of Prince Chen before jumping to her feet. She lifted her skirts and hurried to the courtyard gate. "Where is His Highness?"
Seeing his niece's reaction, Ming Jinghai motioned for his son to come closer and whispered, "Does Jiuzhu like Prince Chen that much?"
Ming Cunfu nodded. "Not just like—she also hates it when anyone speaks ill of Prince Chen."
Ming Jinghai pondered for a moment before nodding. "With Prince Chen's looks, he certainly has the charm to bewitch young women."
Wait—was that really the right way to phrase it?
When Prince Chen stepped through Ming Jinghai's gate, his mood was solemn. But the moment he spotted Jiuzhu waiting on the courtyard steps, he quickened his pace to reach her.
"Ming little pig, what are you doing here?"
"I was listening to Uncle tell stories about faraway lands. I never expected to see you here—what a wonderful coincidence!" Jiuzhu beamed. "Did you come to see Uncle?"
Prince Chen gave a silent nod.
"Let me take you inside! Uncle tells the best stories." Jiuzhu tugged at Prince Chen's sleeve as they walked into the courtyard. After just a few steps, Ming Jinghai and Ming Cunfu came forward to greet them.
"Greetings, Your Highness. This humble official failed to welcome you properly. Please forgive my oversight."
"No need for formalities, Lord Ming." Prince Chen extended his other hand to steady Ming Jinghai. "I am the one intruding."
Ming Jinghai straightened and watched as his niece clung to Prince Chen's sleeve, while the prince willingly offered it to her. Then he glanced at his son, who blushed at the mere mention of Miss Zhou, and couldn't help but feel a twinge of disdain.
This was the difference between them.
Ming Cunfu, confused by his father's gaze, wondered what he meant by that look.
"Your Highness, please have a seat." Ming Jinghai gestured toward the stone table. He noticed Prince Chen swiftly dusting off a stone bench with his wide sleeve before guiding Jiuzhu to sit.
Meanwhile, his niece had taken a plate of pastries from the food box and set it in front of Prince Chen.
Everything was picture-perfect—except that it made him feel a little unnecessary.
"Uncle," Jiuzhu propped her chin in her hands, her bright eyes fixed on him. "Tell me more of that story from earlier!"
Ming Jinghai and Prince Chen exchanged a glance, the air between them tinged with awkwardness.
After all, when men tell stories, there’s always a bit of embellishment and exaggeration involved. What if Prince Chen exposed his tall tales? His dignified image in front of his niece would surely take a hit.
