Ch 19: When the Wild Goose Returns

Qing Yan tucked the little note into her sleeve, lifted her skirt slightly, and stepped onto the stone stairs.

As she looked up at the maid holding open the curtain at the doorway, she suddenly felt a twinge of nervousness.

The awkward parting conversation from the day before still echoed in her ears, the breeze brushing her cheeks seemed to replay it, causing her face to flush involuntarily.

Her fingertips clutched the hem of her veil of pale green gauze, giving it a little tug.

Then, holding her head high with a proud air, she ascended another step and entered the study.

Duan Wuyu tactfully excused himself first. Duan Wucuo was still seated by the window, calmly copying scripture.

Qing Yan moved to his side and cast a glance at the scripture he was copying, speaking in a soft, delicate voice, “Yan’er is unfamiliar with everything in Yi. Being stuck in another palace is dreadfully boring.
I wonder if Your Highness might spare some time to walk the bustling capital with me?”

Her voice was sweet and lilting, the ending soft and coquettish.

Even through the veil, one could almost imagine her downcast eyes and pouting lips in mock grievance.

The maid grinding ink curled her lips, thinking Princess Huachao had none of the elegance of a noblewoman—completely disdainful.

Duan Wucuo paused his brush, turned his face, and looked at her.

Qing Yan lifted her veil and gave him a smile so exaggerated and tragic it was practically criminal.

Duan Wucuo blinked.

In the corner, the maid tending incense gave a start, nearly dropping the lid of the censer.

The ink-grinding maid, who stood closer, fought hard not to burst out laughing.

Qing Yan squinted her eyes into slits, voice saccharine:
“To see Jiu Lang, Yan’er dressed up specially. Am I pretty?”

As she spoke, she hooked her fingers over the veil resting on her hat brim and fully revealed her face. She slowly blinked at Duan Wucuo.

With that motion, the purple eye shadow on her lids became painfully obvious.

Between her thick, straight brows was a green horse-hoof-shaped huadian—a rarely seen decorative motif.

Her rouge was thick, two round blotches smeared on her cheekbones.

Her lips were painted dark red, nearly purple.

To top it off, on the left corner of her mouth was a large “matchmaker’s mole” drawn with brow pencil.

Duan Wucuo smiled.

He saw right through her little ploy—trying everything she could to make herself repulsive so that he would reject the marriage.

Ever since he’d taken monastic vows, he had too much time on his hands. Teasing her had become a harmless diversion.

But after a few rounds of this game, he was starting to lose interest and had planned to return to Yongzhou Temple.

He hadn’t expected this silly girl to come knocking again. Still, her antics did add some color to his otherwise dull days.

He said leisurely, “The Princess’s makeup is… quite unique.”

Qing Yan covered her face with her hands in mock shyness.

Duan Wucuo’s eyes fell to those hands—slender, fair, delicate. Truly the hands of a beauty.

Except… the edges of her nails were black, packed with grime.

Even the lowest-ranked scullery maid wouldn’t be this filthy.

Qing Yan grinned at him and stuck her filthy thumb in her mouth, sucking on it.

The ink-maid turned away and made a gagging face at the incense maid, then composed herself and turned back as if nothing had happened.

Duan Wucuo’s smile deepened.

He set down his brush, and a maid immediately stepped forward with a copper basin for handwashing.

Unhurried, Duan Wucuo rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands, and picked up the cloth beside the basin, soaked it, then wrung it out.

Qing Yan’s heart leapt. Surely now he would finally wave her away!

She stared at Duan Wucuo, full of hope—only to see him step toward her.

Before she could react, Duan Wucuo’s palm rested gently on her lower back, guiding her forward.

Qing Yan froze. Her apricot eyes widened in shock as she stared up at him.

Then the wet cloth came down over her face, and everything went dark.

Through the warm dampness, she felt his hand move in circles on her cheek.

The cloth slowly moved down, revealing her eyes.

She tilted her head back, dazed, looking up at him.

Duan Wucuo lowered his head, expression neutral—focused as he wiped her face.

He glanced up at her briefly, then rinsed the dirty cloth in the basin and wiped her face again.

Her face was a chaotic mess of garish colors, but her eyes remained bright, as clear as morning dew in a forest, shimmering in the soft light of dawn.

Duan Wucuo lingered for a moment on her gaze before continuing to clean away the heavy makeup.

“You’re not suited for thick makeup,” he said.

His tone was casual. His movements, wiping her face, were natural.

The maids in the room stared wide-eyed—was this truly their Prince Zhan?

With the makeup gone, her cheeks were flushed—whether from the heat or her racing heart, she didn’t know.

“D-Do I… not look good?”

She stammered, unsure what she was even saying.

Duan Wucuo gave the faintest of smiles, put down the cloth, and reached for her hand.

Qing Yan instinctively drew back, hiding both hands behind her back. Her veil fell again, hiding her blushing face and granting her a brief sense of safety.

But Duan Wucuo bent forward, arms looping around her slim waist, gently capturing her wrists.

The subtle scent of sandalwood on him filled her senses.

He placed her hands into the copper basin and began washing them.

Her small hands were wrapped in his, the warm water enveloping them both.

The heat she felt came not from the water—but from his hands.

“I—I can do it myself!”

Qing Yan tried frantically to pull away, desperate to escape this mortifying situation.

Clang!

The copper basin tipped from the pearwood stand and crashed to the floor, splashing water everywhere.

Both their robes were soaked.

Qing Yan staggered back, chest rising and falling.

Surely it was because the windows were shut—that must be why she felt so short of breath.

Duan Wucuo bent down and picked up a little note that had fallen from Qing Yan’s sleeve.

Unfolding it, he let out a soft “Oh?” and said with a half-smile,
“Seems the Princess had today’s outing well-planned—every shop listed quite neatly.”

“N-No, it’s not…” Qing Yan was on the verge of tears.

That note had come from a palace guard—it listed all the most famous food spots in the capital.

She had originally thought that if she dressed like this to invite Duan Wucuo, he would surely look disgusted and send her away.

Then she could gleefully take Wen Xi’s arm and go taste all those delicious treats one by one…

But Duan Wucuo acted as though he hadn’t heard a word she said. He slipped the note into his sleeve and said with a completely serious face, “The Princess’s kind intentions—I, though a man of the cloth, dare not disappoint. I shall go change clothes. Please wait a moment.”

He also instructed a maid to bring Qing Yan to Consort Kang to change into a clean outfit.

Duan Wucuo passed her with a calm expression and left the study.

Once outside, the corner of his lips tugged upward into a faint, not-so-benevolent smile.

He headed toward his private quarters. Before he even got close, he caught a strong scent of alcohol in the air.

His gaze darkened slightly, with a hint of unreadable chill.

He stepped inside and, just as expected, found Xuan Bai kneeling on the carpet before the bed, nearly naked.

Xuan Bai was a maid in Prince Kang’s residence. Ever since Duan Wucuo moved in, her longing had been written all over her face.

She had seen everything yesterday at the Qiangli Garden.

So last night, she had soaked herself in a wine vat.

She waited until Duan Wucuo left for the Yunxiao Pool this morning, then snuck into his room and knelt here to wait for him to return.

She’d already been waiting for an hour. When she finally saw him enter, she suppressed her joy and nervousness, lifted her face, and gazed up at him with affection.

Duan Wucuo slowly walked up to her, crouched down in front of her, and curled his lips into a faint smile.

Xuan Bai sank into that smile, the room spinning around her. All her senses scattered—she could see no one but him.

In that moment, she was so entranced that she felt dying for this smile would be worth it…

Meanwhile, Princess Consort Kang had chosen a pale apricot ruqun for Qing Yan. The smoky gauze fabric draped her like clouds and mist, giving her a softer appearance.

The outfit belonged to Princess Consort Kang’s younger cousin, who often visited. When she had new clothes made last time, she had some tailored for her cousin as well. This was one of them, though it hadn’t yet been picked up.

“Your veil is wet too. Just use this draped hat for now.”

Qing Yan thanked her and turned to leave.

But the moment she was out of Princess Consort Kang’s sight, her expression collapsed.

Thankfully, the red veil covered her sulky face.

As she walked along the covered walkway, she caught a strong scent of wine.

She looked over curiously and saw two servants from the manor carrying a rolled-up straw mat, walking quickly toward the back gate.

Qing Yan glanced again—and caught sight of a pale foot sticking out from one end of the mat.

Her eyes widened in shock.

“Princess.”

Duan Wucuo leaned casually against a corridor pillar, arms folded, smiling at her.

Qing Yan froze. With no time to think about the corpse, she stiffened and walked toward Duan Wucuo.

Once she reached him, she spoke with dying reluctance, “Your Highness is a Buddhist and must observe precepts. But the places I want to visit are all famous for their meat dishes. Am I making things too difficult for you?”

Duan Wucuo remained leaning against the pillar, unfolded the note, and ignored her words as he asked, “Where do we go first?”

Qing Yan deflated.

In the carriage, she puffed out her cheeks behind the red gauze, clearly sulking.

She felt wronged—not being able to link arms with Sister Wen Xi and enjoy all the good food.

And now she had to eat with Duan Wucuo? Even the most mouthwatering delicacies would lose their flavor.

Duan Wucuo sat across from her, watching her with interest, as if he could see through the gauze and into her grumpy little face.

The carriage stopped at Shuiyun Pavilion.

It was located away from the busy market street. From the outside, it was unimpressive. Inside, it wasn’t luxurious either—in fact, rather plain.

But its food was excellent, earning it the favor of many, including high officials and nobles.

The second floor had private booths separated by folding screens. Though they provided visual privacy, they didn’t block sound.

Qing Yan and Duan Wucuo had just sat down. As soon as she removed her veil, she heard familiar voices coming from the next room.

Not only were the voices familiar—they were talking about her.

“…This Princess Huachao is honestly laughable. Who knows if she was raised in the countryside and only recently recognized back into the royal family. She doesn’t act like a princess at all.”

The speaker was Tao Ningxin.

Another unfamiliar voice asked in surprise, “Really?”

Cheng Mujin sipped her tea and said lightly, “She’s at Prince Kang’s residence almost every day. You’re Princess Consort Kang’s cousin—go take a look yourself and you’ll see.”

So the earlier speaker was Dan Qianyue, Princess Consort Kang’s cousin.

Dan Qianyue asked, “Is she really going to marry Prince Zhan?”

“Who knows? It’s all up to him. But if you ask me, she’d be better off marrying Prince Min.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. No matter how improper she is, she’s still a princess from Tao. How could she be made a side consort to a blind fool like Prince Min?”

“You don’t know? Prince Min’s consort died from illness! He’s coming to the capital soon for the Empress Dowager’s birthday.”

“I think that dumb princess and blind fool are a perfect match! Hahaha…”

The girls all burst into laughter.

Qing Yan hadn’t cared much at first about them badmouthing her.

But the more she listened, the more her eyes began to sparkle—brighter than the stars in the night sky.

Prince Min?

He lost an eye to illness as a child and was slower than others.

His fief was far from Zhan Yuan Prefecture.

He was a fool. He wouldn’t recognize she was an imposter.

And his territory was distant—she wouldn’t run into anyone from her past.

Wouldn’t that make him the perfect person for a political marriage?

Duan Wucuo glanced at Qing Yan’s starry eyes with a cold stare.

At last, his expression darkened.

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