When Ming Jingzhou returned home, the sky had already darkened. Pushing open the courtyard gate, he saw his daughter waiting for him, bundled in a thick cloak.
"Father." Jiuzhu, who had been drowsy, lifted her head and greeted him with a bright smile. "You're back! I asked the kitchen to keep some soup warm for you. Have a bowl to warm yourself."
"Why aren't you in bed yet?" Ming Jingzhou, chilled from the cold, dared not stand too close to her. "Where’s your mother?"
"Mother spent the whole day going over the account books and has already retired for the night." Jiuzhu took a hand warmer from her sleeve and handed it to him with a smile. "The soup will be here shortly. Warm your hands with this first."
Ming Jingzhou chuckled, cradling the slightly small hand warmer between his palms. "You waited here specially—do you have something to say to me?"
Jiuzhu touched her cheek, suddenly doubting herself. Had she been that obvious?
Seeing her expression, he shook his head with a quiet laugh and followed her into the main hall. Chunfen soon entered, carrying a steaming bowl of soup. "Master, this soup was specially prepared by the young miss for you. She insisted you drink it all."
He downed the soup in one go and nodded approvingly. "It’s delicious."
Jiuzhu beamed. "I added a few goji berries while it was simmering. I was worried you might not like it, but I'm so glad you do!"
Setting the empty bowl aside, Ming Jingzhou asked, "Jiuzhu, what did you usually do during New Year’s back in Lingzhou?"
"First, my masters and I would clean the Taoist temple, then copy scriptures and pray before the statues of the Three Pure Ones," Jiuzhu replied, resting her chin on her hand as she reminisced. "My masters said other temples had many rules, but ours was small and simple—what mattered most was sincerity."
"Every New Year’s morning, when I lit the first incense for the Three Pure Ones, I secretly prayed for your safety." She giggled. "Since it was the first offering of the year, I thought they’d remember my wish better."
"And every New Year, my masters would make me new clothes. The elder master always complained that the second master’s sewing was terrible, but I thought they were lovely—she even embroidered little dogs on my sleeves!" Her eyes sparkled as she recounted childhood memories.
She told him about the time she was punished for mischief, only for both masters to coax her with roast goose. When her father laughed, she gazed at him earnestly. "Life in the temple was simple, but my masters gave me everything they could."
"I learned to read and understand life’s principles." Her clear, gentle eyes seemed to comfort someone on the verge of tears. "I never suffered much—I ate well, slept well—so don’t be sad about my past, Father."
In that moment, Ming Jingzhou’s heart ached as if pierced by countless needles.
This child was consoling him.
"I know," he replied hoarsely, forcing a smile. "I know. Now, go to bed. Tomorrow, I’ll bring you roast goose when I return from the Ministry of Rites."
Jiuzhu usually addressed him formally as "Father," following capital customs, but he preferred the affectionate "Daddy" she used when trying to cheer him up.
"Then you mustn’t be sad anymore," she said, tugging his sleeve. "Rest early. I’ll bring you lunch tomorrow."
"Alright." He patted her head with his now-warm hands. "Go to sleep. Daddy isn’t sad."
"You’re the best, Daddy!" With a sweet smile, she left with Chunfen.
Alone, Ming Jingzhou sat silently at the table, covering his eyes.
"Master." Lady Shen emerged from the inner chamber, draped in an outer robe, and sat beside him, gently rubbing his back.
"I’m fine," he muttered, though his cracked voice betrayed him.
Lady Shen leaned against his shoulder. "She waited for you all day. After how angry you were yesterday, she was worried, even if she didn’t say it. She’s usually asleep by now—why else would she be boiling soup?"
She hadn’t interfered because she knew, on this cold night, father and daughter needed a warm bowl of soup and a quiet conversation.
After a long silence, she whispered, "Don’t cry. Let’s go to bed."
"I’m not crying," Ming Jingzhou insisted, avoiding her gaze, though his voice was rough.
"I’ve arranged New Year’s gifts for Jiuzhu’s masters," Lady Shen said, tactfully ignoring his tears. "It’s a shame they refuse to come to the capital. We could’ve taken care of them."
"Perhaps Taoist sages prefer being wild geese among the clouds to pampered cats in the capital," he sighed. "Forcing them here would hardly be gratitude."
Yet he and his wife owed those masters a debt they could never repay.
Drying his eyes discreetly, he turned to her. "Go back to bed. It’s cold—don’t fall ill."
Noting his reddened eyes, Lady Shen called a maid to help him wash up. Once in bed, she asked softly, "Shall we bring Jiuzhu to the palace banquet this year?"
"We must." His voice was muffled under the blankets. "When I saw His Majesty today, he specifically asked us to bring her."
"Very well." After a pause, she patted the lump under the covers. "Even if she marries, she’ll stay within our sight. It’s better than..."
Better than the years when they didn’t even know if their child was alive.
Logically, it was true. But how could parents truly rejoice?
---
"Raise the lantern higher—don’t let it tilt!"
"Aunt, where should we hang this eight-treasure glass lantern?"
"That’s a gift from Her Highness for the County Princess. Place it in her room, carefully—don’t drop it!"
"Aunt, the Palace Administration sent new fabrics. Would you like to inspect them?"
"Set them aside for now. Have the rewards for the consorts been delivered?"
"Yes, but the servants at Shallow Breeze Pavilion said Concubine Zheng is unwell."
"Unwell?" Xiangjuan pondered briefly. "Wait here. I’ll consult Her Highness."
Consort Su was trying on her banquet attire, while an eight-tailed phoenix hairpin adorned with pearls glowed brilliantly in its case.
"Zheng Lanyin is ill?" The smile faded slightly from Consort Su’s lips. "Send for a physician from the Imperial Hospital."
"Your Highness, tonight is New Year’s Eve. Summoning a physician might bring ill fortune."
“What’s this talk of luck or ill omen? This consort has never believed in such things.” Consort Su scoffed lightly. “Moreover, His Majesty is a wise and virtuous ruler. With his imperial aura shielding us, no inauspicious force would dare approach.”
“So, in my beloved consort’s heart, I even possess the power to ward off evil spirits?” Emperor Longfeng strode into the room, dressed in the dragon robes he wore for court audiences. “Do you like the new jewelry I had the Palace Administration craft for you?”
“I heard this bracelet was designed from a sketch drawn by Your Majesty himself?” Consort Su picked up a filigree bracelet from her jewelry box. “Your Majesty claims to be busy all day, yet you found time to make this for me?”
“No matter how busy I am, I could never forget your preferences.” Emperor Longfeng took the bracelet and fastened it around her wrist, nodding in satisfaction. “Your wrist is as delicate as boneless jade, fair as the glow of the bright moon. This bracelet may seem exquisite on its own, but on your wrist, it pales like mere stardust beside the moon’s radiance.”
“Where did Your Majesty learn such honeyed words?” Consort Su shot him an amused glare but kept the bracelet on, stroking it fondly. “Have you spoken to Ming Jingzhou about bringing Jiuzhu to the palace banquet?”
“I did mention it. I’m just worried that if this continues, the bond between me and Minister Ming might suffer.” The emperor’s dwindling conscience pricked him slightly. “Their family only just got their daughter back, and before they’ve even had time to cherish her properly, our son is set to marry her away. Do you think a father’s heart can bear such a thing?”
“Got her back?” Consort Su was puzzled. “Wasn’t the Ming family’s young lady fostered in Lingzhou?”
She distinctly remembered His Majesty mentioning Jiuzhu’s background when discussing Prince Chen’s marriage prospects—how the Ming brothers had been exiled to the harsh frontiers and, fearing their newborn daughter wouldn’t survive the journey, entrusted her to a foster family in Lingzhou.
So why was it now phrased as “getting her back”?
“After so many years apart while she was fostered in Lingzhou, isn’t it the same as getting her back?” Emperor Longfeng regretted his earlier decision to conceal the truth about Jiuzhu’s rediscovery, fearing Consort Su might overthink the girl’s origins.
If his beloved consort were to uncover the truth now…
Fortunately, Consort Su didn’t dwell on it. Instead, she sifted through her jewelry and sighed. “I don’t understand the Ming family’s reasoning. How could they leave their daughter in a Daoist temple all these years? Were they not worried? If they didn’t care for her, that would be one thing, but it’s clearly not the case. On her birthday, Lady Shen looked at Jiuzhu as if she were a treasured pearl.”
She shook her head. “If they love her so much, why didn’t they bring her home sooner? A child raised outside must have endured hardships. No wonder some in the capital whisper that the Mings don’t value their daughter. Had I not seen Lady Shen’s devotion to Jiuzhu myself, I might have thought the same.”
Emperor Longfeng dared not respond.
“Luckily, our Jiuzhu has a sweet temperament and a kind heart.” Consort Su rummaged for jewelry that would suit Jiuzhu. “Everything about her is delightful.”
*Our* Jiuzhu?
The emperor nearly reminded his consort that Jiuzhu belonged to the Ming family, not to *them*—but he held his tongue.
Picking up a phoenix hairpin box, he frowned slightly. The eight-tailed phoenix pin was lovely, but it couldn’t compare to the grandeur of a nine-tailed imperial phoenix pin.
“Your Majesty, why are you staring at that hairpin?” Consort Su glanced at him.
Emperor Longfeng smiled. “I was thinking of having a new imperial phoenix pin made for you after the new year.”
“I already have plenty of phoenix pins. What use do I have for another?” Consort Su replied absently, her gaze drifting to the window—where she spotted their son meandering toward them.
The emperor said nothing, but in his heart, he wished to gift the woman he loved most a nine-tailed imperial phoenix pin.
Such a pin could only be worn by an empress… or an Imperial Noble Consort.
“Your son greets Father Emperor and Mother Consort.” Prince Chen craned his neck, his eyes brightening at the sight of the jewelry-laden dressing table. “Picking out accessories?”
“Perhaps this son could offer his humble opinion?”
If any pieces didn’t suit his mother but happened to be perfect for a certain young lady… well, he’d be more than happy to take them off her hands.
