Ch 24: When the Wild Goose Returns

Duan Wucuo heard it—the faint rumble of a stomach.
He lifted his gaze to Qing Yan. Her face flushed, and she awkwardly turned her eyes away, folding her small hands over her belly, as if pressing it would silence it.

Duan Wucuo raised a hand in a courteous gesture, inviting her to sit, and then resumed his unhurried meal.

Qing Yan peeked at him, then furtively glanced toward the table.

Besides the lotus pastries, which weren’t quite like the ones she’d had before, there were two other types of cakes, a bowl of candied fruit, and a small bowl of soup.

One white porcelain plate had a sauce-painted design of branches and leaves, with soft, glistening crabapple pastries arranged among them like an elegant painting.

Another dish held small black square cakes—smooth as satin.
Qing Yan had never seen such a thing and couldn’t guess what it was made from.

The candied fruit gleamed with rich color, and the soup looked light and pale.

Qing Yan watched as Duan Wucuo served himself a spoonful of soup and drank it, but she still couldn’t tell what it was.

She pressed her lips together.
She hadn’t come here to eat—how could she sit and share a meal with him?

Turning her head slightly, she shifted her gaze aside, stealing sidelong glances at Duan Wucuo.

But after making the invitation, he paid her no mind, focusing solely on his food.

Qing Yan stood awkwardly in front of the jade-inlaid table.
Though only a short time had passed, it felt like forever to her.

She watched him finish the small bowl of sweet soup and place it on the table—completely empty.

Was it really that good…?

Gurgle.

She frowned.

Edging forward, she sat hesitantly on the edge of a stone stool.

Her eyes never left Duan Wucuo’s face, but he ignored her still, fully intent on his meal.

Only then did Qing Yan finally reach out to take the lotus pastry closest to her.
She moved slowly, inching her fingers forward. When she picked it up, her fingertips trembled slightly—then she quickly pulled her hand back and took a bite.

It was soft, sweet, perfectly balanced.

Beyond the familiar lotus scent, a subtle floral fragrance lingered on her tongue.

She blinked, took another tiny bite, then another… until the entire pastry was gone.

A bit of green filling had smeared onto her fingertip. She couldn’t help licking it clean.

Just then, that delicate floral aroma started to deepen.
Qing Yan realized it carried a faint wine-like fragrance.

She ran her tongue along her teeth, savoring the unfamiliar aftertaste.

Almost without thinking, she reached for another piece.

After the second lotus pastry, she tried one of the mysterious black square cakes.
Then the crabapple pastry…

They were all delicious.
But the lotus pastry was her favorite.

Just as she reached out for a third, Duan Wucuo handed her a freshly served bowl of sweet soup.

She froze, looked at him, then took it quietly.

Awkwardly, she whispered a “thank you,” eyes downcast, stirring the soup with the porcelain spoon. She took a sip.

Ah—autumn pear soup.

So sweet. So very sweet!

She set the spoon aside, lifted the small porcelain bowl in both hands, and downed it in just a few gulps.

Duan Wucuo watched with amused interest as she ate with faint clumsiness and childish delight.

When Qing Yan finally placed the empty bowl down, a sudden realization struck her…

Duan Wucuo had been dining alone.
There had only been one set of utensils on the table.

And the bowl and spoon he used to serve her the pear soup… seemed to be the very ones he’d just used himself…

Her face flushed with embarrassment.

She straightened her spine, chin lifted slightly in an attempt to play it cool.
“They’re all sweet,” she said.

Duan Wucuo replied with a simple, “Mm.”
He picked up a piece of candied fruit.

Another sweet…

Qing Yan went quiet.

She sat still, watching him eat, her eyes fixed, not even blinking.

The glossy red candied fruit gleamed between his pale fingers—looking irresistibly tempting.

He picked through the bowl, choosing the ones he liked.

“Do you want some?” he asked.

The fruit must have been a little tart, because his brows furrowed slightly.

“No.”
Qing Yan answered firmly.

Duan Wucuo popped one into his mouth, then set the bowl back on the table.

After a moment, Qing Yan spoke again:
“The chef at Prince Kang’s manor is amazing.
Maybe I’ll ask the Princess Consort if we can buy him.”

While eating, Duan Wucuo replied lazily,
“That chef? Princess, you probably can’t afford him.”

From that, Qing Yan guessed the chef didn’t belong to the Prince Kang household at all, but to Duan Wucuo himself.

She dared not covet him anymore.

Looking at Duan Wucuo across the table, Qing Yan’s heart gradually calmed.
Then, a sense of confusion crept in.

She had never imagined she would one day sit across from him like this, sharing a meal.

She had to admit—Duan Wucuo really was extraordinarily handsome.

But his looks weren’t just in his face. They were in the way he moved, how he sat, the grace in every gesture.

As she gazed at him, Qing Yan—for the first time—truly realized she was going to marry him.

And for one fleeting moment, she thought:
If I really were Princess Huachao, maybe I’d be happy about this?

Even if there was no love, this would still be a fine match.
A marriage of equals, a well-matched pair.

But she wasn’t.

She was someone who had stolen the identity of a princess—someone of the highest rank.

And now she was going to marry the god-like Prince Zhan of Yi Kingdom under that false name.

She didn’t just fear being exposed.

She feared… that she might come to enjoy this life too much.

She feared this luxury, this peace, this warmth—because it never truly belonged to her.
She felt like a thief, sneaking into a dream that was never hers to have.

What is owed must always be repaid.

And perhaps, one day, she would pay dearly for these good days she now enjoyed.

Lost in wild, uneasy thoughts, Qing Yan reached out and picked up another candied fruit to eat.

Duan Wucuo glanced at her and asked, “Princess, do you have any more clever schemes?”

“Schemes?”
Qing Yan mumbled through the candied fruit, her words unclear.

“Schemes to marry someone else.”

Qing Yan swallowed and shook her head. “I’ve thought it through. I came here for a political marriage—for peace and friendship between Yi and Tao. It’s not worth fussing over the details. Whoever I marry doesn’t matter. Marrying Prince Zhan is quite fine.”

As she spoke, she lifted her bowl to pour herself more of the autumn pear soup.

…but something about that sounded off, like she was giving up out of sheer frustration.

The tone reeked of reluctant surrender.

Duan Wucuo fell silent for a moment, then asked, “So you’re really done with all your little tricks?”

“Mm-hmm. I’ll start gathering craftsmen as soon as I return, and begin plans to rebuild Prince Zhan’s manor.”

Qing Yan took another sip of soup.

Duan Wucuo looked almost disappointed.

He’d thought teasing this little cat would last longer—but who would’ve thought that once she sensed she was losing, she’d just throw her paws in the air and surrender?

Tsk.

Duan Wucuo said, “Very well. In that case… let’s move the wedding date up.”

“Cough, cough, cough!” Qing Yan choked hard on her soup.

“Now that’s more like it,” Duan Wucuo drawled with satisfaction, nodding.

It was only when she panicked and lost her composure that she was at her most adorable.

He stood, and with the pad of his finger, wiped a drop of sticky soup from the corner of Qing Yan’s lips.

The autumn pear soup clung to his fingertip.

He rubbed it between his fingers, then pressed the sweetness right back onto her lips.

It was very sweet.

Without thinking, Qing Yan’s tongue flicked out and licked it.

His fingertip was cool.

Qing Yan’s eyes widened—then her face flushed red and she hurriedly lowered her head.

A smile crept into Duan Wucuo’s eyes.

He said, “Oh? You didn’t blush until now. That’s progress.”

“Ridiculous! The soup was just too hot!”
Qing Yan threw him a flustered glance, then shot to her feet, clutching her skirt as she scurried away.

All the graceful manners Wen Xi had taught her were completely forgotten.

Duan Wucuo leaned back slightly, watching her hurried, flustered retreat.

Bu Er came running up, soaked with sweat. “The meat’s done steaming!”

When he saw Duan Wucuo unmoved, he followed his gaze, looking in the direction Qing Yan had disappeared.

Bu Er rubbed his bald head, quite pleased:
The burnt-down Prince Zhan’s manor would be rebuilt.
The lady of the house would soon move in.
Maybe, just maybe, he’d get to hold a little master in his arms someday—hehe.

Duan Wucuo kept his word.
The very next day, the imperial decree of marriage was issued.

What had sounded like a joke turned out to be real.

The edict declared that Princess Huachao would marry Prince Zhan.
Given that she had journeyed from afar, she was not to be slighted.

Although Prince Zhan had taken Buddhist vows, the grand wedding ceremony must still be held.
After the ceremony, he would return to Yongzhou Temple to pray for the late emperor and the people of Yi, and only return after three years term is complete.

The news caused an uproar.

But Qing Yan?
She wasn’t surprised at all.

She lay sprawled on her beauty couch, lazily picking through a box of candied fruit.

“Sister Wen Xi, the ones from Prince Kang’s manor were tastier.”

“All you think about is eating,” Wen Xi said sternly.
“You barely know how to read, let alone play the zither, play chess, write, or paint.
If you’re to spend time with Prince Zhan day in and day out, how confident are you that you won’t slip up?”

Qing Yan drawled, “Well, I already offended a toad—and still didn’t manage to marry into the inner palace.”

She pouted, looking all innocent, as if to say: I tried my best.

Wen Xi frowned. “Then how about you spend less time snacking and more time studying?”

Qing Yan popped another candied fruit into her mouth, her soft eyes drifting playfully as she grinned:
“No need to worry. I may not be good at studying, but I am good at making up stories…”

Wen Xi frowned harder. She had no idea what nonsense Qing Yan was scheming now.

Originally, they had planned to hold the wedding after Duan Wucuo returned from his three-year temple stay.
But now that the date had been moved up, the wedding was set for just seven days later.

The problem: Prince Zhan’s manor was still uninhabitable.

So Emperor Wen He gave a grand stroke of the brush and purchased a residence in the capital for use until the manor was rebuilt.

Back when it burned down, Duan Wucuo had declined repairs, since he would be leaving for Yongzhou Temple anyway.
He had even dismissed most of the household staff.

Emperor Wen He handed the matter to Liu Zhengping.

He was to select suitable palace maids and eunuchs to temporarily serve there.
With such little time, there was no way to buy new servants who would be as reliable as those trained in the palace.

After some thought, Liu Zhengping summoned Chang Bai.

With a mild voice, he said, “My good boy, your godfather has found you a wonderful assignment.”

Chang Bai bowed and poured tea, respectfully offering it to him.

Then he stood aside and said, “I’d prefer to remain at your side, Godfather.”

Liu Zhengping shook his head, eyes smiling as he looked at his fair, bright-eyed godson.

“You’re still young.
Staying with me forever will only keep you from growing.
Prince Zhan is getting married, and his new estate needs an entirely new staff.
This is your opportunity.
Serve him well, and you may follow him to his fief later—or return to the palace.”

He paused, then added in a lowered voice:
“It’s uncertain whether Prince Zhan will ever return to his fief at all.”

Chang Bai’s long lashes lowered, hiding the flicker of shock in his eyes.

No prince granted a title would not go to his fief.
The meaning of Godfather’s words couldn’t be clearer.

And suddenly, it all made sense.

Liu Zhengping placing him beside Duan Wucuo wasn’t just training.
It was a move—one made well in advance.

“Chang Bai won’t let you down,” he said, bowing deeply.

Liu Zhengping took his slender arm and helped him up with a smile.
“Then I’ll leave the matter of selecting palace staff to you.
The wedding is in seven days. Time is tight.
Not a single detail of Prince Zhan’s new home can be out of place.
If you can’t reach the prince, consult Bu Er.”

“Yes.”

Still uneasy, Liu Zhengping added, “You might also consider that Princess of Tao’s preferences.
She will be your mistress for some time, after all.”

Chang Bai smiled and said, “I know what to do.”

He left Liu Zhengping’s quarters, changed out of his eunuch robes, took the official seal, and departed the palace to inspect the new estate granted to Duan Wucuo.

Of course, every time he left the palace, he always made sure to take a certain “detour.”

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