Ch 23: When the Wild Goose Returns

All eyes were fixed on Qing Yan—one pair after another, filled with disbelief.
Their stares felt like needles pricking into her skin, unbearably sharp.

But standing face-to-face with Duan Wucuo had already drained every ounce of her strength.
The hand gripped in his palm burned as if set aflame.
She barely had the energy to notice the others’ layered and complicated gazes.

Su Ruche’s stare was locked on the clasped hands between Duan Wucuo and Qing Yan, unable to tear herself away.
She clenched her handkerchief so tightly that only after Duan Wucuo had left did she realize—her favorite pinky nail had snapped from the pressure.

Duan Wucuo had walked off just like that.
He didn’t wait for Qing Yan’s reply, nor did he wait for the ladies in the small garden to recover from their shock.

After a while, Qing Yan sat down, the heavy ring of keys still in her hand.
But the probing stares directed at her hadn’t moved away.

Cheng Muxin was the first to speak:
“Congratulations, Princess.”

Qing Yan returned to herself, letting her gaze float lightly across everyone’s faces.
She slowly curved her eyes into a smile and said,
“Still uncertain.”

The dark-skinned girl rolled her eyes before adding,
“Well, now that’s strange, isn’t it?
If it’s still ‘uncertain,’ why would he hand you the task of restoring Prince Zhan’s manor?
Does he take the princess for what—a servant? A carpenter?”

Qing Yan put on her most innocent expression.
She blinked and said, seemingly surprised:
“I don’t know either.
If this sister is curious, perhaps you could ask Prince Zhan and come back to tell me.
I’d be ever so grateful.”

The girl’s mouth twitched.

Go ask Duan Wucuo herself?

She wasn’t ready to die yet.

She didn’t even bother hiding the sarcasm in her tone:
“What’s my relationship with Prince Zhan?
What’s your relationship with him?
It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to ask.
Shouldn’t you be the one to find out?”

Qing Yan’s clear eyes made her appear deceptively naive.

She gently shook her head and replied softly,
“I wouldn’t dare.”

The dark-skinned girl froze. Her tongue twisted, and she couldn’t figure out how to continue.
In her heart, she could only curse: That girl is a master at playing dumb.

Dan Qianyue was now openly sizing Qing Yan up.

Tao Ningxin casually pointed at a pot of daffodils and praised their beauty, smoothly redirecting the conversation toward flowers.

The strange tension in the little garden slowly began to dissipate, and eventually, the attention and discussion moved away from Qing Yan.

She didn’t let it show on her face, but inside, she quietly let out a breath of relief.

Duan Wucuo’s sudden appearance had left her heart pounding in chaos.
But under the scrutiny of others’ malice, she had no choice but to keep calm and pretend nothing was wrong.

From a young age, she’d learned never to let others see her fall.

She forced herself to follow the chatter, though her mind wandered the entire time.
She kept thinking about the heavy ring of keys in her hand.
About Duan Wucuo.
About what she was going to do now.

Su Ruche, as the host, remained unusually silent.
Not long after, she found an excuse to slip away, leaving the rest of the ladies in the garden.

She turned and stepped into a small flower room.

Inside, Cheng Ji lounged in front of a pot of magnolias, legs crossed, fiddling with one of the blossoms.

Su Ruche stood in the doorway, looking at him.
“You saw Princess Huachao with your own eyes today.
Isn’t she even more beautiful than in the portrait?
I didn’t lie to you, did I?”

Cheng Ji stood, walked to the window, and lifted the curtain to glance at Qing Yan in the distant garden.

Su Ruche wrestled with the jealousy and hatred boiling inside her.

She asked:
“So? Young Master Cheng, what do you think?
To your taste?”

Cheng Ji scoffed.
“What exactly did this Princess Huachao do to you?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Su Ruche replied coolly.

“I wasn’t going to get involved.
But you lied to me.”

He turned and shot her a sideways glance.
“You said she was with Prince Min.
But today, clearly, it was Prince Zhan who showed up.
Tch. If I hadn’t come, I’d have missed quite the scene.”

Su Ruche didn’t flinch. She smiled faintly and said slowly,
“What, does Young Master Cheng only dare steal women from fools, but not from Prince Zhan?”

Her gaze carried subtle scorn and provocation.

Cheng Ji crossed his arms and tapped his fingers rapidly against his bicep, eyes narrowing in calculation.

Su Ruche wasn’t in a rush either.
She said evenly:
“I didn’t lie to you about everything.
That princess isn’t too bright.
She does want to marry Prince Min.
If you don’t believe me, ask her yourself—ask who she wants to marry.”

Cheng Ji said nothing.

Su Ruche knew she couldn’t stay away from the guests for too long, and rushing Cheng Ji wouldn’t help.

She simply added,
“You decide, Young Master Cheng.”

Then turned and left the flower room.

Back in the garden, she had just returned when Qing Yan excused herself and left.

Su Ruche’s gaze lingered on the heavy ring of keys in Qing Yan’s hand.
Inside, she was gnashing her teeth.
On the surface, she had to maintain the act of a sweet, innocent girl, calling “Sister” in a honeyed tone.

She watched Qing Yan leave.
Beside her, a young lady whispered,
“Princess Huachao is actually quite nice.
She’s gentle, soft-spoken, generous, and doesn’t hold grudges or argue.
And she really is beautiful.
Such a pretty little face—when she smiles and talks with those curved eyes, just hearing her soft, sweet voice makes you feel happy…”

Su Ruche’s smile faded, her eyes gradually turning cold.

—

Back at the side palace, Qing Yan strode into her room and threw the heavy keyring onto the bed.

She opened her hands and saw that she had gripped it so tightly, red marks from the hard edges were carved into her soft palms.

She rubbed them with her thumbs and let out a small whimper.

Wen Xi looked at her helplessly.
“So… there’s no turning this around now.”

Knock knock knock—

A guard knocked at the door.

Wen Xi answered.

A guard stood at the threshold and reported: “An elderly man claiming to be the steward of Prince Zhan’s manor is here to see the princess about the renovations.”

Qing Yan lay face-down on the table with her eyes shut, playing dead.
Then suddenly, she opened her eyes, now sparkling brightly.
She sprang to her feet, face taut with resolve.
“Let’s go. To Prince Kang’s manor.”

“What excuse this time?”
Wen Xi asked.

“No excuse.”
She huffed. “I’m going to find that bald monk!”

The guards were still outside. Wen Xi had no choice but to lower her knees in a proper curtsy and respectfully respond,
“Yes, Princess.”

On the carriage ride to Prince Kang’s manor, Wen Xi asked,
“What are you trying to do now?
Don’t make things worse with clever tricks.”

“I know what I’m doing.”
Qing Yan replied, though anyone could see her lips tightly pressed in frustration, her face puffed in a pout.

She lifted the side curtain of the carriage and looked out the window.

The side palace wasn’t far from the main palace, and to get to Prince Kang’s manor, they had to pass the palace’s west gate.

Just as she lifted the curtain, she happened to spot a procession of palace attendants exiting through the west gate.

She was about to let the curtain fall when one figure caught her eye.

“Chang Bai?”

But the carriage turned, and the group vanished from view.

Qing Yan lowered the curtain and shook her head gently.
How could it be Chang Bai?

He was supposed to be far away in Zhan Yuan Prefecture, hundreds of miles from the capital.
There was no way he’d come to the capital—much less enter the palace as a eunuch.

She rubbed her eyes and muttered,
“Sister Wen Xi, that medicine is ruining my vision.
My eyes are always sore and dry… and now I’m seeing things.”

Wen Xi’s heart sank, and she leaned over to inspect Qing Yan’s eyes.
The medicine did have serious side effects—but not this quickly.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really. I think it’s fine now.”
Qing Yan smiled, curling her lips.

But she rubbed her stomach, realizing with regret that she’d left too hastily and forgotten to eat.
She hadn’t eaten much at the Su manor earlier—too preoccupied and too polite.
Now, she was starving…

—

Chang Bai had exited the palace on official orders.
He paused, glancing toward the carriage that had just turned away.

“Which noble household’s carriage was that?” he asked.

A guard at the gate looked over and replied,
“That would be Princess Huachao from Tao Kingdom.
Probably heading to Prince Kang’s manor again to find Prince Zhan.
Heh, she’s a bold one, that princess.”

Chang Bai gave the guard a glance that made him lower his head immediately in embarrassment.

Chang Bai looked away. His long lashes cast soft shadows on his pale skin.
He waved a hand and silently led his team in the opposite direction.

—

When Qing Yan arrived at Prince Kang’s manor, she didn’t go to the Princess Consort as usual.
Instead, to the servants’ shock, she headed straight to Duan Wucuo’s residence.

Duan Wucuo was in the middle of a meal.

Qing Yan clenched the hem of her dress and marched up to him, speaking solemnly:
“I want to talk to you.”

Duan Wucuo didn’t even lift his eyelids. He calmly rolled up his sleeves and poured himself a bowl of soup.

Qing Yan furrowed her brows.
“I pretended to cozy up to you, to please you.
It was all fake.
I don’t want to marry you. Not one bit.”

Wen Xi jerked her head up in shock, staring at Qing Yan.

Qing Yan inched a little closer, lowering her head to look at Duan Wucuo.
She bit her lip and mumbled like a child making a guilty confession,
“I thought… I thought if I acted like that, you’d be disgusted.
Then you’d reject the marriage yourself.”

“But…”
Her voice trailed off, her head dropping lower.

Her small hands clenched at her skirt, fingers twisting the soft fabric in nervous tension.

“But I didn’t act well enough.
You saw right through me…”

Her voice was soft and muffled, laced with small frustration and even smaller hurt.

“Even in the carriage, I was fuming and trying to come up with a new plan.
Trying to figure out how to trick you again…”
She sighed, defeated.
“But I’m not smart enough. I couldn’t think of anything.”

Only then did Duan Wucuo finally lift his gaze to look at her.

Qing Yan was petite to begin with, slender like a delicate child.
Now with her head bowed like a scolded one, she looked even smaller, more pitiful.
Her fidgeting hands only made her distress more obvious.

She peeked up at him.

The moment their eyes met, she quickly ducked her head again, her shoulders shrinking.

She didn’t dare raise her head anymore and murmured,
“I’ve already confessed everything…
Can Your Highness let me go now?”

Silence.

She heard no response.

Unable to resist, she peeked at him again—he was calmly eating, as if nothing had happened.

Was my voice too quiet?
But speaking softly made the confession seem more real…

Her brain worked frantically. One plan failed, so try another.

Then she gasped,
“Don’t tell me… Your Highness, you actually fell for me?”

Duan Wucuo’s eyes softened. He replied gently:
“You don’t know if someone likes you—until they’ve had you.”

Qing Yan blinked slowly.
Then it hit her what he meant—so suddenly she accidentally bit her tongue.

Ouch.

Duan Wucuo set down the soup bowl.
“The Princess thinks I was intrigued because everyone wants to marry me—and you don’t.
So your uniqueness drew me in, and now I insist on marrying you.”

Isn’t that exactly what happened?
Qing Yan thought—but didn’t say.

“I chose you,” he said, “because your face is still passable.”

Her eyes widened.

Across the jade-inlaid table, she stared at Duan Wucuo in stunned silence.

Her mind went blank. All her schemes fizzled into nothing.

She finally remembered that time under the moonlight—when he’d wrapped her in his robe, cradled her chin, and said:
I only did it to look at your face.

So he’d made it clear from the beginning.

Early spring wind drifted across her cheeks, cool and light.

After a moment, her gaze dropped bit by bit—until it landed on his fingers.

He picked up a lotus syrup pastry and elegantly took a bite.

The soft, glistening green filling peeked through the delicate petals.

It looked nothing like the ones she’d had before.

It looked… kind of delicious.

Qing Yan stared longingly at the pastry missing a bite.

Just then, her empty stomach rumbled.
Gurgle.

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