Author Archives: Thandar

Ch 12: When the Wild Goose Returns

The moment the palace doors closed behind her, Qing Yan hesitated.

Climbing into someone’s bed… was truly disgraceful.
Just the thought of it made her feel deeply uncomfortable.

If she were Qing’er, she would never have agreed.
Just like before.

But she was Qing Yan now.
She had returned to Yi Kingdom only to repay Princess Huachao’s life-saving grace.
Even her life could be given in return—so what was a little discomfort?

She had known from the start this was a political marriage. That matter would have to happen sooner or later.
She always joked to Wen Xi about wanting to live a peaceful life in the Cold Palace.
That was partly true—but mostly, it was a tactic to make herself seem insignificant, so no one would dig into her true identity.

The inner palace was filled with women. As long as she kept her head down, eventually people would forget her.
Even if the palace was a cage, it was one that could protect her. She didn’t want to leave it.
She feared meeting anyone from her past—even if it was unlikely.

If she were married to someone else, she’d inevitably have to attend banquets and meet others.
And more importantly, she truly didn’t want to marry Prince Zhan.

Every time she thought of that title, she remembered being scolded as a child by older maids:
“If you can’t even do this, just wait till Prince Zhan gets hold of you—he’ll break your arms and legs and boil you for the wolves!”

Especially after meeting Duan Wucuo in person, Qing Yan had treated him like a plague god.

She didn’t dare look into his eyes. His smiling eyes always seemed like they could see right through her.

She didn’t even know why, but whenever she met Duan Wucuo’s gaze, she felt a guilty conscience—like he would expose her any second.
And if he did, her death wouldn’t matter—but she couldn’t drag down Princess Huachao because of her own foolishness.

Qing Yan quietly took a breath to steel her nerves.

So what if it was seduction?

She could handle this.

On the way to Yi Kingdom, she had secretly studied little pamphlets on the subject.

She finally crept to the side of the bed and cautiously lifted her eyes—Emperor Wen He wore pale snow-colored trousers.

Just one glance, and she quickly dropped her gaze, not daring to look higher.

Her heart thumped wildly.

“If I dawdle, he’s going to wake up…” she muttered.

She bit her lip, slipped off her shoes at the foot of the bed, and—bracing herself—climbed in.

She moved carefully, bending to avoid the emperor’s legs, inching along the wall like a little snail.

She didn’t make a single sound, not even in her breathing.

At last, she made it to the far side of the bed, pressed against the wall, still on her hands and knees, motionless.
She didn’t dare look at the man lying beside her.

“I need to lie down…” she told herself three times before her stiff body finally moved again.

Still cautiously, she straightened her legs, slowly turned onto her side, and lay down facing the wall.

Her face was nearly flush with it.

Such a simple action—yet Qing Yan felt she’d used up all her strength.
Her hand near her face clenched slightly, fingers trembling.

Now that she had climbed into the bed and thrown away her shame, she was terrified for her life again.
What if the Yi emperor woke up and found her there? Would he fly into a rage?

Should she wait for him to wake naturally, or wake him herself?

If he needed to be called awake by servants, there’d be no moment alone to carry out the “seduction” plan.

Qing Yan was still lost in worry when the man behind her suddenly rolled over.

She stiffened at once.

His breath brushed against the back of her neck, sending a chill and a tingle down her spine.

Then, a weight pressed down on her waist—his hand.

Qing Yan froze for a long time, but he made no further move.

Was he still asleep?

She quietly let out a breath, but couldn’t relax.
The arm across her waist felt like a thousand pounds.

She scolded herself—
Qing’er, you’re so stupid!

Don’t be afraid. Grab his hand, turn around slowly, and look at him with the gentlest, most affectionate gaze of your life!

She finally summoned her courage and inched her little hand toward his.
Her fingers just touched the back of his hand—she flinched, then tried again.

She placed her palm lightly on top of his.

Her five fingers were stiff and outstretched.

His hand was slightly cool.

Now what?

Qing Yan slowly curled her pinky and lightly scratched the back of his hand.

It was feather-light.

Warmth rose from her pinky like a tiny flame slowly crawling upward.

Her hand froze again. Her mind blanked. She had no idea what to do next.

Then he suddenly flipped his hand over and caught hers.

Her hand was so small. His was large and strong.
Her fingers lay limp and obedient in his grip.

His thumb gently, slowly stroked the back of her hand.

Qing Yan froze.

Was he… awake?

People might unconsciously grab someone’s hand in their sleep.
But this slow, deliberate stroking—he was definitely awake.

Qing Yan shut her eyes and took a deep breath.
When she opened them again, she’d switched to the sweetest, gentlest smile she could manage.

She reached out and grasped his hand—cold and heavy—carefully holding his index finger.
Then, as gracefully, tenderly, and alluringly as she could, she turned to face him.

Her eyes lifted slowly, full of soft shimmer.

But the moment her gaze met Prince Zhan’s—

All the grace, all the charm she had painstakingly summoned—collapsed in an instant.
What remained was pure embarrassment.

The tenderness on her face hadn’t even faded yet—now it only served to mock her.

“P-Prince Zhan…”

Duan Wucuo had propped himself up, clearly watching her for a while now.
Who knew how much of her squirming, flustered performance he’d already seen.

He spoke at last, voice unhurried and indifferent:

“This humble monk is a man of the cloth, devoted to precepts and worship.
For a woman to tempt others into breaking their vows and harming their cultivation—
In death, such a soul must descend to the Eighteenth Level of Hell.”

Qing Yan’s scalp tingled. She instantly yanked her hand from Prince Zhan’s and scrambled backward.

But the wall was behind her—there was nowhere to run.
Her head struck the wall hard, the pain bringing tears to her eyes.

Everyone said Prince Zhan killed with a smile.
If he smiled at you, you ought to feel danger.

Yet as Qing Yan glared at him with wide almond eyes, she found the legend lacking.
It was this expressionless version of Prince Zhan that made her hair stand on end, made her tremble with dread.

He spoke again, slowly and deliberately:
“At Ouhé Lake, I thought the princess was merely naive, being used by the two county princesses.
Now I see—you were an accomplice from the start.”

Qing Yan hurriedly stammered,
“I—I… I won’t tell anyone what I saw between you and Consort Shu, alright? So please don’t tell anyone I tried to seduce the emperor either, okay?”

Prince Zhan was visibly stunned, his gaze faltering for a moment.

“Me and Consort Shu?”

Wasn’t that the case?

If not, why else would he be resting in her bed?

Qing Yan nodded firmly, whispering,
“Let’s just keep each other’s secrets, alright?
We’ll pretend none of this ever happened—we didn’t see each other at all!”

Prince Zhan let out a breathy laugh, clearly exasperated.

Ever since he returned from Yongzhou Temple, he had cultivated peace of mind and rarely lost his temper.
Yet today, Qing Yan had managed to provoke him twice in a single day.

He raised his hand, knuckles brushing her cheek.

To Qing Yan, it felt like something cold and slithering—dangerous and numbing.

His hand slowly trailed down to her slender neck.
Then, without warning, he gripped it and lifted her before him.

Her face was mere inches from his.
At such close range, her every exhale warmed his face—slightly sweet.

Her eyes were full of panic, like a startled fawn lost in the misty woods after rain.

Qing Yan forced herself to be bold:
“If you don’t let go of me, my imperial father will send troops to defend my honor!”

But as soon as she spoke, the sweet scent brushing his face grew stronger.

Prince Zhan didn’t respond.
He only furrowed his brow slightly, the disgust between his brows obvious—
and his hand around her neck relaxed and let go.

Just then, Qing Yan—already tightly wound—heard movement from the next room.

A woman’s startled cry, quickly muffled.
Whether by someone else’s hand or her own, she couldn’t tell.

Then came soft sounds—half crying, half moaning.

Qing Yan blinked in confusion.

And then came the unmistakable sound of a canopy bed shaking.

The room next door was built later, sharing only a thin wall with this one. It didn’t insulate sound.

The bed must’ve been pushed right up against the wall, because each time it creaked, it thudded against it—sending the sound straight through.

Qing Yan lifted her head, eyes drifting to the canopy tassels above the bed, which seemed to sway along with the noise.

She finally understood what was happening—and her face flushed crimson.
Utterly humiliated, she buried her face in the bedding.

Prince Zhan glanced down at her.

Even her ornate gown couldn’t conceal how delicate she was—so thin at the waist, she looked like she might break with a touch.

A beauty like a painting… but no trace of regal composure.

Her green skirt pooled messily around her; one foot curled beneath it, the other bare with a silk stocking halfway off, revealing her soft round heel.

She was lying prone, flushed cheeks buried in the bed, her hairpiece askew.
A portion of her nape was exposed—smooth and white as jade.

Prince Zhan reached out and gently adjusted the hair ornament by her temple.

Then he said:
“This humble monk shall gift the princess a tortoise shell one day.”

Qing Yan bit the bedding and mouthed:
Not listening, not listening—stupid tortoise chanting sutras!

Outside, a flurry of footsteps approached—many people, it sounded like.

And faintly, Qing Yan thought she heard the empress’s voice.

Startled, she immediately raised her head to look toward the door.

“What do we do?”
She grabbed Prince Zhan’s hand in a panic, eyes wide with worry.

“Are they coming to catch us in the act?
If they find us like this… and the emperor orders a marriage between us—what then?!”

She didn’t know that the emperor had already discussed such a match with Prince Zhan in private—and Prince Zhan had agreed to it.

He glanced at her hand grasping his, then at her face.

Her face was even redder than he’d expected.

Just as the guards burst in, Prince Zhan picked up her shoe and stocking and dragged her into the wardrobe.

It was cramped, filled with women’s clothes.
Consort Shu’s garments had been perfumed, and the fragrance filled the tight space.

Light filtered in through the carved slats.

It took a moment before Qing Yan noticed what he held—her stocking and shoe.

She froze, then bashfully tugged up her skirt and peeked at her foot.
Sure enough—she was missing a stocking.

She wrinkled her brow in embarrassment, then gently pulled the stocking from Prince Zhan’s fingers and awkwardly tried to put it on.

Balancing on one foot, she nearly toppled into the wardrobe wall.

Prince Zhan steadied her—she stumbled forward, bumping her forehead into his chest.

Her ears turned red.
She shifted away from him, ears perked to catch the sound outside.

The guards hadn’t searched thoroughly—once they saw no one on the bed, they rushed into the next room.

Then came a brief stillness… followed by the sound of kneeling.

“All hail His Majesty!”

Mixed with that, the sound of a woman sobbing.

Qing Yan stared in shock—unable to believe it.

So… Emperor Wen He was in the next room?

“Ruqing?”

—It was the empress’s voice.

High-pitched and sharp, filled with disbelief and fury worthy of her station.

“Elder Sister! Someone set me up! You must stand up for me!”

That was Su Ruqing, crying for help.

The emperor seemed to say something, but it was too far to hear clearly.

Then came another shout—this time from one of the older palace maids:

“Quick! Summon the imperial physician—!”

°❀.ೃ࿔°❀.ೃ࿔

Ch 11: When the Wild Goose Returns

Su Ruche was close with her younger brother Su Hongfang, so naturally, she didn’t like how Qing Yan was speaking. And being used to her own noble status, she disliked Qing Yan’s commanding attitude even more.

The thought that Duan Wucuo might marry Qing Yan first made Su Ruche feel nauseated.
She wanted nothing more than to ruin Qing Yan completely.

But there was no choice—stealing the position of Princess Zhan from Qing Yan would certainly be easier than taking it from her own sister.

So, for now, she could only stomach the disgust and help push Qing Yan into marrying Duan Wucuo.

She said, “All right. If not today, there’s always next time. No need to worry, Sisters. But we can’t just keep hiding here—there are so many guests outside. We can’t risk raising suspicion. We’ll come up with a better plan another day. Besides, since the princess will be staying in the capital, it’s best to meet more people today while there’s a chance.”

Su Ruqing casually replied, “When the princess becomes a noble consort in the future, there’ll be no need for her to reach out to anyone.”

Su Ruche paused, then gave an awkward smile.
“You’re right. That was careless of me.”

The Su sisters had already begun to form different assumptions—or perhaps different hopes—regarding Qing Yan’s future.

“Why not just finish it all in one go today?
As a foreign princess, she can’t just enter the palace freely. After today, seeing His Majesty again will be nearly impossible.
The only question is—does the princess dare take the risk?”

Su Ruqing spoke with resolve.

Su Ruche’s eyes flickered as she asked first, “Sister, what’s your idea?”

“His Majesty always naps at Consort Shu’s quarters in the afternoon.
As someone from Yi Kingdom, it’s not impossible for Princess Huachao to get lost on her first visit to the palace. Consort Shu’s palace isn’t far from here.”

Su Ruche quickly objected, “That’s far too risky.
Even if the princess doesn’t know the palace, it wouldn’t make sense for her to end up at Mirror Flower Palace during a banquet at Yuexi Palace.
And how would we handle the guards there?
Besides, we might have already stirred suspicion today. Shouldn’t we be more cautious?”

She shook her head repeatedly, clearly disagreeing.

Of course, she didn’t want Qing Yan to meet the emperor and actually become a consort.

Su Ruqing had been hesitant at first, but now her mind was made up.

She said,
“Everyone knows Consort Shu and the Empress don’t get along.
If not for Her Majesty back then, Consort Shu’s child wouldn’t have died.”

“Sister! Watch your words!”

Su Ruqing pressed on without fear,
“Huachao is working with us. That makes her one of us.
If she’s going to enter the palace, it’s better she learns about its filth early on.
Consort Shu’s always been trying to place people around His Majesty.
If our princess makes the first move and aligns with her against the Empress, she’ll definitely agree to help.”

“But… still… I think it’s too reckless.
Far too reckless!”

The sisters began to argue.

Qing Yan rested her chin in her hands and silently watched the two bicker.

Wen Xi stood behind her, face expressionless.

“Princess, what do you think?”
Unable to come to an agreement, the Su sisters turned to Qing Yan.

Qing Yan asked,
“What do I do?
Just wait for His Majesty and then try to seduce him?
I don’t think I know how…”

Su Ruche jumped in,
“Exactly. The princess isn’t even prepared.
It really is too hasty.”

Su Ruqing gently took Qing Yan’s hand and said,
“The princess is beautiful. Just walk up to His Majesty, smile at him—and that’s enough.”

Qing Yan imagined Emperor Wen He’s large, round face.

Su Ruqing made it sound so simple, but Qing Yan knew—it still came down to throwing herself into his arms.

She frowned, feeling a little repulsed.

Suddenly, a different image flashed in her mind: Duan Wucuo’s smiling gaze.

She didn’t know why, but her foot suddenly tingled. That strange, numbing sensation crept back from her memory, making her feel it all over again.

Qing Yan’s shoulders shuddered.

Better one sharp pain than prolonged agony. Seeing Prince Zhan every day was simply too terrifying.

She truly didn’t want to see that inexplicable jinx ever again.

Qing Yan nodded—vigorously.

So what if it meant seduction?

If it meant earning a peaceful life in the Cold Palace someday, she could endure it.

Back then, it was because she wouldn’t endure that she ran away from the life she had known for years—turning Qing’er into Qing Yan.

Su Ruqing let out a breath of relief. Su Ruche’s smile faded a little.

The three split up, each assigned a task.

Su Ruqing went to see Consort Shu. Su Ruche, as the birthday girl, had to entertain the guests.

As guests offered their congratulations, Su Ruche grew increasingly uneasy.

She hesitated, unsure whether she should inform Duan Wucuo again.

Would a second message make him think she had ulterior motives?

But even if she didn’t notify Duan Wucuo, she was determined to sabotage Su Ruqing’s plan.

Meanwhile, Qing Yan strolled through the garden like any other guest, once again drawing curious glances from many.

She kept her expression calm and walked exactly as Wen Xi had instructed her countless times—poised and elegant—while quietly admiring the scenery of Yuexi Palace from the viewing corridor.

Of course, she also ate a fair share of the delicate pastries on the small side tables.

Wen Xi lowered her voice, “Something’s off.”

“Mhm…” Qing Yan nodded. “I’ve thought it through carefully.
It’s possible that Prince Zhan being at Ouhe Lake was just a coincidence—he’s always been strange and hard to read.
But it’s far more likely someone from the Su sisters tipped him off.
Princess Zhenxian is desperate to marry Prince Zhan—she’d love to see me get sent into the palace.
So the one who tattled can only be Princess Zhenshan.
As for why? I’ve no idea.
Maybe the sisters don’t get along, and she wanted to mess with her elder sister on purpose.”

“They’re using you.” Wen Xi said grimly.

Qing Yan glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then took a big bite of a pickled goose meatball. She covered her mouth with her sleeve as she chewed and swallowed, saying,
“Isn’t it mutual use?”

Wen Xi glanced sideways at Qing Yan’s carefree face.

For a moment, she couldn’t tell whether Qing Yan was being hopelessly naïve or whether she truly had everything under control.

“Princess Huachao.”

Qing Yan had just reached out for another goose meatball when someone called her. She subtly changed course and picked up a small rose pastry instead.

“From afar, I saw the princess sitting alone. I hope I’m not intruding on your peace,” said the girl, stepping closer.

Wen Xi bowed slightly and explained in a low voice,
“This is Cheng Muxin, eldest granddaughter of the Left Chancellor.”

Qing Yan smiled warmly and invited Cheng Muxin to sit with her.

As soon as she did, the noble ladies who had long been curious about Qing Yan also came over to greet her.

Soon, another girl arrived, surrounded by other young noblewomen.

“That’s Tao Ningxin, the Right Chancellor’s youngest granddaughter,” Wen Xi whispered.

Qing Yan understood immediately—these two were clearly rivals.

Though Cheng Muxin and Tao Ningxin weren’t openly hostile, both represented powerful families. On the surface, they exchanged sweet “sisterly” greetings, but in truth, they had been comparing themselves to each other since childhood.

What appeared to be a group of girls chatting was actually a quiet competition between Cheng and Tao.

At first, all eyes had been on the foreign princess with violet eyes. But soon, the back-and-forth between the two chancellor’s granddaughters stole the spotlight.

Qing Yan was happy to be left alone. She smiled, listening to their half-understood chatter, not caring whether she could follow the conversation—and happily sneaked in several more pastries.

“Did the princess sleep late today and miss breakfast?” someone asked.

Qing Yan followed along and said, “Yes, yes. I’m not used to the local climate, slept poorly, so I woke late.”

Immediately, the other girls started offering caring advice, recommending Yi Kingdom recipes and remedies to soothe her stomach and body.

Qing Yan listened earnestly and didn’t reach for more snacks.

When the midday banquet began, the girls all took their seats according to rank.

Once seated, Qing Yan found herself next to different people and could finally eat in peace.

But every time she reached for something, Wen Xi would let out a quiet cough—so little Qing Yan could only stare longingly at the distant delicacies, unable to eat more.

Nibbling her small portion, she silently counted how many dishes at the banquet she hadn’t tasted before. She memorized their appearance so she could try to find them again later.

Before she was satisfied, a maid from Su Ruqing’s side came to summon her.

She brought Wen Xi along and quietly regrouped with the Su sisters away from the crowd.

Su Ruche was smiling brightly.
“No issues with Consort Shu,” she reported.

Su Ruqing looked at her sister with gratitude.

Though they had disagreed earlier, her sister had clearly meant well—and in the end, had gone with her to persuade Consort Shu personally.

The three of them, accompanied by a few maids, quietly made their way along a little-known path from Yuexi Palace toward Mirror Flower Palace.

Duan Wucuo stood hidden in the shadows, watching their sneaky figures.

The Eighth Princess looked up as if wanting to speak, but before she could say anything, Duan Wucuo lifted her by the collar and carried her toward the other side of Mirror Flower Palace.

The Eighth Princess was Consort Shu’s daughter.

Inside the palace bedchamber, all was quiet. Clearly, Consort Shu had sent away the attendants in advance. Only an older matron remained, waiting for them.

The matron asked them to wait. A young palace maid came out from inside and whispered something into her ear. The matron nodded toward Su Ruqing and led them inside.

Qing Yan followed behind the Su sisters, finally beginning to feel uneasy.

She was only supposed to pretend to be a princess. Why did she now have to perform this bedclimbing seduction act?

Just outside the inner chamber, Su Ruqing grabbed Qing Yan’s hand nervously and said, “Don’t be afraid, Princess.
His Majesty is already asleep. Once you climb in from the foot of the bed and lie beside him, everything will be settled when he wakes.”

Qing Yan took a deep breath. She had escaped death a few times already—now she just wanted to live properly.

Tiptoeing, she silently slipped into the inner chamber.

Su Ruqing dismissed Wen Xi to wait outside, then opened her palm.

“Sister, what’s that?” Su Ruche asked.

“Love-incense,” Su Ruqing replied.

Su Ruche froze slightly, already having an idea.

Such things weren’t uncommon in the harem.

Su Ruqing gripped her sister’s hand tightly, her eyes tinged with madness.
“I can’t wait any longer. I’ve already waited far too long for Prince Zhan! If I can’t marry him, I’ll go insane!”

Her voice trembled.

“I won’t allow any accidents. Only if Princess Huachao really gives herself to His Majesty will the Empress drop the idea of marrying her to Prince Zhan. The Empress only thinks of herself—she never considers her own sister!”

“But… if Princess Huachao finds out what you did someday…” Su Ruche’s gaze flickered.

“I don’t care anymore!”

“Alright, alright—I understand.
But this isn’t something you should personally do.
Let Chun Chi handle it.
And since the princess just went in, to avoid raising suspicion, we should wait before releasing the incense.”

Su Ruqing gradually calmed down.

She nodded and handed the love-incense to Chun Chi.

As the mistress, it was an unspoken rule not to do it herself.

“Good sister, thank you for worrying about me.
Today is your coming-of-age ceremony. You’ll be missed out front.
If you’re gone too long, Mother will start looking.
Go back—I’ll handle things here.”

Su Ruqing said.

“That’s what I was thinking too.”
Su Ruche looked once more at the closed chamber doors and smiled,
“Wishing you good news soon, Sister—may all your wishes come true.”

Su Ruqing nodded slowly.

Just before leaving, Su Ruche gave Chun Chi a meaningful glance.

She looked back at her sister one last time, steeled herself, and walked out.

Once Su Ruche had gone, Su Ruqing didn’t stay waiting outside the inner room either. She went to the room next door.

She waited anxiously, until she suddenly heard a man’s snoring.

Startled, Su Ruqing turned toward the bed behind the screen.

Click! — the sound of a lock falling.

Su Ruqing jolted upright, cold sweat breaking out all over.

Chun Chi poked a hole in the paper window and blew the incense inside.

But—this was not the Emperor Wen He’s usual nap room.

It was the next-door room where Su Ruqing herself waited.

At that very moment, little Qing Yan tiptoed inside the actual bedchamber, lifting her skirt like a sneaky little turtle, inching toward the bed.

Her brows scrunched up tight as she slowly raised her head to look at the man lying there.

°❀.ೃ࿔°❀.ೃ࿔

Ch 10: When the Wild Goose Returns

“My shoes!”

Qing Yan bent down to retrieve them, and the boat rocked.

Lake water splashed into the little boat.

She stared at the dark, unfathomable surface of the lake, panic rising. She quickly grabbed the boat with both hands, clutching tightly, not daring to move again for fear of falling into the water.

The boat, which had been caught among the jade-carved lotus branches, slid free and slowly drifted onward.

Her shoes and socks floated farther and farther away.

The snow-white silk socks lay limp on the water’s surface.
The pale bluish shoes bobbed along the lake like tiny boats, swaying gently with the ripples.

The embroidered auspicious clouds on the shoes’ sides were soaked, turning into gloomy storm clouds.

A tickle on the sole of her foot made Qing Yan’s body stiffen. She pursed her lips and looked back at Duan Wucuo.

—He was still holding her ankle.

His eyes were lowered, gaze resting on the small foot in his hand.

The delicate foot was graceful and dainty, slender as a jade shoot, with a faint fragrance.
Entirely unlike a man’s large feet.

Duan Wucuo pressed his palm to the bottom of Qing Yan’s foot. Her foot was exactly the length of his hand—just the right fit.

His clean, slender fingers glided along her foot, carefully measuring.

Qing Yan’s foot tingled with a prickly, numb sensation that surged from the sole, raced up like fire, and exploded in her mind like a shockwave.

“Shameless!”

Qing Yan kicked at him with all her strength.

The boat rocked, and a few drops of water splashed onto her flushed cheeks.

Duan Wucuo’s grip on her ankle loosened. Though he let go, his palm still brushed along her smooth, tender calf.

Her little foot landed against Duan Wucuo’s chest. Her lilac skirt slipped upward, revealing a slender stretch of fair leg.

The layers of her skirt bunched up like blooming petals, the white center peeking out like a flower in bloom.

Duan Wucuo didn’t dodge. He watched her with a faint, gentle smile.

He always smiled that way—refined, mild, as if he wasn’t doing anything indecent at all.

Qing Yan’s cheeks were already burning. Her chest rose and fell with anger.

“You… you’re shameless!”

She stammered the accusation again, flustered. She pulled her leg back and hastily tugged down her skirt, covering her bare legs and feet.

Her apricot-shaped eyes glared at Duan Wucuo, their purple sheen trembling with shame, anger, and fear.

Qing Yan couldn’t believe her eyes.

Everyone said Prince Zhan had a face like a god—countless infatuated women would endure all hardships just to see him once.

In rural tales, it was said that if Prince Zhan ever smiled at you, you’d never marry again and have no regrets.

But Qing Yan felt the man before her wore a human-skin mask. Strip away that beautiful shell, and he might just be some cruel, hideous demon!

She forced herself not to show fear.
She wasn’t Qing Yan—she was Princess Shi Lingwu of Tao.
Besides, Su Hongfang could lure Emperor Wen He here at any moment. If the emperor saw her squeezed into a boat with Duan Wucuo, barefoot and disheveled, she’d never be allowed into the harem.

Using the shimmering lake as a mirror, she forced herself to stay calm.

Then she raised her chin and stared him down, voice laced with restrained fury:
“If Prince Zhan returns me promptly to shore, I shall overlook your reckless misconduct. Otherwise—”

“Otherwise what?”

Qing Yan gritted her teeth. “Otherwise, don’t blame me for calling others over to witness your shameless acts!”

She quietly hid her trembling hands behind her back.

She never imagined she’d one day curse out Prince Zhan to his face.
She was afloat on this little boat, her fate now drifting with him.

Duan Wucuo chuckled softly.
“Princess is mistaken. Calling someone over would do you more harm than good.”

“So now Prince Zhan wants to threaten me? But I’ve done nothing wrong—you have. The one who should be ashamed is the one acting improperly, not the innocent victim!”

Innocent victim?

Duan Wucuo laughed again.

Looking at her flushed cheeks, he said gently, “This poor monk does not wish to trouble you, much less detain you. You may go wherever you please.”

—What a scoundrel’s line!

After speaking, Duan Wucuo reclined at the stern of the boat, folding his arms behind his head, and looked up at the vast blue sky.

The breeze was light, the clouds overhead drifting with a cheerful gait.

In the presence of Buddha and wind, Duan Wucuo closed his eyes.

“You…”

Qing Yan bit her lip and reached for the oar.

Rowing? So what? How hard could it be?

With her cherry lips pressed tight and brows furrowed, her small hands clutched the paddle and splashed furiously along both sides of the boat.

Clearly, Qing Yan didn’t understand how to row properly or use the right amount of force. Her arms quickly went numb with exhaustion, water splashed everywhere, and the little boat barely moved. It just spun in circles in the middle of the lake.

The flying droplets landed on Duan Wucuo’s face. He lazily lifted an eyelid and cast a sideways glance at her serious but clumsy effort.

Duan Wucuo said unhurriedly, “Go with the current, and the boat will eventually reach the shore.
Beside Yuexi Palace is the viewing corridor, where today’s guests are dining.”

Qing Yan felt like she was grinding her teeth into powder. She glared at Duan Wucuo in confusion.

He wanted all the guests to see her in a private meeting with him?
And when they arrived, would he carry her barefoot off the boat?

That would ruin her reputation entirely. She’d never make it into the palace, let alone enjoy peaceful days in the Cold Palace.

Suddenly, Qing Yan struck the side of the boat with the paddle.

The small boat tilted slightly to that side. A large splash of water landed right on Duan Wucuo’s face.

His brow twitched almost imperceptibly. The smile on his face faded as he looked at Qing Yan.

She forced herself to meet his gaze, eyes filled with both fury and defiance.

In truth, her heart was pounding. But she kept reminding herself that she was a princess.

And noble princesses were allowed to have a temper.

They stared at each other for a long moment. Qing Yan finally couldn’t hold out anymore. She was afraid she might cry if she didn’t stop.

Stiffening her neck, she turned her head away, set down the paddle, and gave up on wasting her strength.

Then she hugged her knees and refused to even glance in Duan Wucuo’s direction.

Suddenly, she felt a tug at her skirt. Peeking out of the corner of her eye, she saw Duan Wucuo had sat up and grabbed the hem of her skirt.

She instinctively tried to snatch it back, but she was a step too late.

The soft fabric was already in Duan Wucuo’s grasp. He bent forward and slowly wiped the water from his face with her skirt.

A cool breeze brushed over Qing Yan’s legs, carrying with it the faint scent of sandalwood from his robes.

Duan Wucuo let go of her skirt and lay back down again, resting his arms behind his head.

Qing Yan lowered her head, her face twisted with frustration.

The small boat drifted slowly, and time on Ouhe Lake passed just as slowly. In her mind, she had already counted thirty thousand roasted lambs.

She faintly heard the sound of laughter in the distance. Her shoulders tensed.

She knew they were nearing the viewing corridor.

At this distance, with the mountains blocking the view, the guests couldn’t see them. But if she made any loud noise, they would definitely hear.

Just as she raised her head to look at Duan Wucuo, he opened his eyes and looked back at her.

The next moment—splash—Qing Yan leapt from the boat into the lake.

Duan Wucuo shot up, reaching out to grab her. The edge of her lilac sleeve brushed past his fingertips.

His expression shifted. Just as he was about to move, a figure darted past and jumped into the lake after her.

Duan Wucuo paused, then understood immediately.

Watching the figure move swiftly through the water, he chuckled.

“Who goes there!”

The splash had indeed drawn attention from the viewing corridor. Guards were already hurrying over.

A few curious guests also came to investigate, peeking around the rock formations.

Qing Yan had already been pulled to shore by Wen Xi. Drenched, she looked even more delicate and small. Wen Xi grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the rocks and trees at the edge of the shore.

Her wet skirt clung to her legs. She bent forward to lift it, stepping lightly on the stone tiles and leaving small footprints behind.

By the time the guards arrived, she was already gone.

“Prince Zhan?”

The guards who arrived were shocked.

They quickly lowered their weapons.

Some guests nearby heard the commotion and were stunned—why was Prince Zhan here?

The Su sisters had already been paying attention. On hearing the news, they both reacted in their own way.

“How did this happen…” Su Ruqing murmured in surprise.

Su Ruche pretended to be shocked. She quietly squeezed her sister’s hand and whispered, “Don’t let others grow suspicious. Let’s go have a look.”

Duan Wucuo leaned casually against the boat.

When the boat finally drifted ashore, he stood up, picked up the soaked monk’s robe, draped it over his arm, and stepped onto land.

“Greetings to Prince Zhan,” came the collective voice.

Duan Wucuo said nothing and walked forward without even glancing sideways.

Not seeing Qing Yan, Su Ruche was surprised. Su Ruqing, however, breathed a sigh of relief and quietly said, “Thank goodness,” gripping her sister’s hand tighter.

Su Ruche gave an awkward smile.

There were many guests in the viewing corridor. Numerous noblewomen stole glances at Duan Wucuo, only to quickly lower their heads in embarrassment when they realized others might see.

The eighth princess asked her sixth sister in a soft voice, “Sixth Sister, what was that splash just now? Did Ninth Uncle fall into the lake?”

Duan Wucuo paused and looked toward the little princesses.

“Don’t speak nonsense,” Sixth Princess whispered sternly.

The four-year-old Eighth Princess pointed to the dripping monk robe in Duan Wucuo’s arm and said with a puzzled frown,
“But Ninth Uncle’s clothes are all wet. Wow, he’s so amazing—he climbed out all by himself!”

The crowd fell silent. No one dared speak.

Duan Wucuo’s gaze landed on the Eighth Princess.

She had a round face, rosy cheeks, and dimples even when not smiling.

Suddenly, Duan Wucuo laughed—because he was annoyed, not amused.

Not at the little princess—but at that other dimpled wild princess.

The Sixth Princess was on the verge of tears. She quickly covered the Eighth Princess’s mouth and bowed in apology.
“She’s just a child and doesn’t know better. Please forgive her, Ninth Uncle…”

Before she could finish, Duan Wucuo had already walked away, his face cold and distant.

In truth, Duan Wucuo had known that Wen Xi was following by the shore. He just didn’t care.

What surprised him was Qing Yan’s sudden leap into the lake—especially when they were so close to the viewing corridor.

She must have thought he would lower his guard at that moment. But in his eyes, her timing made it look like a deliberate attempt to dirty his name.

Interesting.

Duan Wucuo laughed again.

The so-called wild princess, Qing Yan, was currently sneezing in a wooden pavilion.

Winter hadn’t passed yet, and the waters of Ouhe Lake were still cold.

She had already changed into dry clothes. Wen Xi was helping her dry her hair.

This wooden pavilion was part of Yuexi Palace, but it had long been unused, as the palace had no mistress.

Though the plan had come from Su Ruche, Qing Yan had never been passive. They had already scouted the area, and Wen Xi had never truly left.

When Qing Yan jumped, Wen Xi immediately understood and dove in to save her.

“Everyone knows you came to the banquet today. You have to show your face, then find an excuse to leave.”

Wen Xi said.

Qing Yan nodded absentmindedly, clearly distracted.

She pressed her palms to her cheeks. They still felt burning hot.

By the time her hair was nearly dry and Wen Xi helped her freshen up, the two of them slipped quietly out of the pavilion.

They took a secluded path and intentionally ran into a group of palace maids, claiming they had gotten lost while sightseeing. The maids then escorted them back to the banquet.

Qing Yan carried herself like a proper princess, gliding through the crowd under the scrutinizing gaze of noble ladies from the capital.

The Su sisters greeted her politely in front of others, then found an excuse to pull her aside.

Before either of them could speak, Qing Yan frowned and asked irritably,
“Why didn’t Emperor Wen He come?”

Su Ruqing had a stomach full of questions, but Qing Yan’s dissatisfied tone caught her off guard.

“There must have been a mistake on Hongfang’s end,” Su Ruqing said.

She hesitated, then asked, “Just now, Prince Zhan…”

“Since Emperor Wen He didn’t come, but I saw Prince Zhan there, I left.”

Qing Yan huffed, “Are you sure you gave the little heir the right instructions? He didn’t fetch the wrong person, did he?”

Hearing this, Su Ruche was clearly displeased.

°❀.ೃ࿔°❀.ೃ࿔

Ch 6: When the Wild Goose Returns

The mountain breeze carried a hint of chill as Duan Wucuo walked down the mountain path through the withered landscape.

He was tall and slender, wearing simple monk robes that could not hide his naturally elegant and handsome features.

In his hand was a scroll, but it was not for reciting.

Yongzhou Temple was peaceful, with only the sound of a monk sweeping fallen leaves filling the air.

Duan Wucuo continued walking, heading back to his residence’s backyard.

The backyard of his residence had a mountain stream running through it. The water was thin and long, guided by a bamboo tube into a small ceramic basin below.

Over time, the stream overflowed, flowing along the gap and down to the brick path below where a few red plum trees stood.

Duan Wucuo washed his hands in the flowing water and then opened the scroll. He took out a stalk of yanxin orchid that was tucked inside and rinsed it with the fresh mountain water.

He then opened a nearby clay jar, and a rich fragrance immediately wafted out.

The scent was strong yet not overwhelming, with a touch of sweetness reminiscent of fine wine.

He placed the washed yanxin orchid inside.

The yanxin orchid only bloomed once in its lifetime, opening for just a moment. It was extremely rare.

Yet, the jar before him was half full, with the flowers piled inside as though they were pickled vegetables.

All of these were collected by Duan Wucuo.

He enjoyed turning the valuable yanxin orchids into a juice, which he would later add to lotus-flavored crisp when the lotus flowers bloomed in June, creating a unique treat.

The recipe was something he had concocted himself.

In this world, only he added yanxin orchid juice to the lotus-flavored crisp.

Duan Wucuo looked up toward the roof of the side room, where Bu Er sat cross-legged.

Bu Er was sitting atop the roof ridge, playing dice by himself.

In the long years of the mountain temple, the once top-ranking member of the imperial guard had been worn down into a fool.

“Go, catch a rabbit and bring it back.

Tonight we’ll have pine mushrooms with rabbit stew.”

“Alright!”

Bu Er caught the dice that had been thrown into the air, and with a flicker of movement, vanished from sight.

Only the high branches of a nearby tree shook slightly.

Duan Wucuo pushed open the door and returned to his room, his gaze casually landing on the letter on the table.

This letter had been delivered a few days ago, and Duan Wucuo had just opened it to read.

—“Ninth Brother, I’ve been thinking back on the past, and indeed, I made a mess of things regarding the match-making.

Marriage is a lifelong matter, and it should be fulfilling.

The Princess Huachao of Tao Kingdom has bright eyes and a graceful demeanor.

I am twenty years her senior, and I cannot bear to lock her away in the depths of the palace, cutting off her youthful years.

However, a marriage alliance with Tao Kingdom is necessary for our relationship, so we cannot disregard her wishes.

I have been thinking of you, Ninth Brother, and hope you will return to the palace for a small gathering.

If you are satisfied with Princess Huachao, I, as your older brother, would like to arrange her marriage to you.”

Duan Wucuo couldn’t help but chuckle at the signature at the end: “Your Elder Brother.”

He picked up a red brush and circled the typos in Emperor Wen He’s letter. Then he turned the yellow imperial paper over and, with great flourish, wrote: “The princess is quite good.”

He then sealed the letter and placed it in the envelope.

The Empress had tried both soft and hard methods to resolve the matter, but neither party seemed too keen on it.

Duan Wucuo’s reluctance was somewhat unclear.

Little Qing Yan’s reluctance, however, was crystal clear.

She rested her chin on her hand as she sat by the window, not even bothering to eat the mi rou mei bing (pork and plum cakes) she usually loved, repeatedly mulling over her future.

If she were truly married off to Prince Zhan, not only would she lose the quiet life in the cold palace, but she’d also be at risk of being exposed.

There was a popular joke among the people of Yi Kingdom that Prince Zhan was the god of the Yi Kingdom. It was a joke, but there was more truth to it than people realized.

Qing Yan didn’t think her disguise could escape his sharp, smiling eyes.

“If I remember correctly, Prince Zhan is already betrothed, right?

To the talented and beautiful Princess Su Ruqing?

No, wait… it seems their engagement hasn’t been finalized yet. But Prince Zhan became a fake monk shortly after.

But wasn’t this marriage all but agreed upon?”

A long silence.

Qing Yan slapped her face and continued muttering to herself, “There were so many people who wanted to marry Prince Zhan, but didn’t he turn them all down?

It seems even Princess Su Ruqing wasn’t to his liking?

Then, he must not like me either!”

Suddenly, her eyes brightened. A smile curled at the corners of her lips as she reached for the mi rou mei bing to eat.

At that moment, Wen Xi pushed the door open and entered. “Stop thinking about it. Get dressed and groom yourself.

Princess Su Ruqing and Princess Zhen Shan are coming to the defense.”

Qing Yan’s eyes widened in shock. The pork and plum cake in her hand fell to the table.

No way?

She’d just thought about Princess Su Ruqing, and now she was here? And she’d even brought the notoriously spoiled Princess Zhen Shan with her?

“Could she already know about this matter?”

“She’s the Empress’s cousin. We’re foreigners here. She probably received the news even earlier than we did.”

Wen Xi swiftly helped Qing Yan get dressed and ready, then led her toward the front hall.

Qing Yan had mastered the art of playing two roles — in private she was little Qing Yan, but in front of others, she became Princess Huachao, Shi Lingwu.

Su Ruqing and Su Ruche, the two sisters, were seated in the front hall, their gazes occasionally drifting toward the entrance.

Su Ruche leaned close to Su Ruqing and whispered, “Sister, I don’t believe some beauty from Tao Kingdom could be more beautiful than you. Prince Zhan is bound to become my brother-in-law.”

Su Ruqing smiled gently and slowly shook her head. “They say she’s exquisitely beautiful, otherworldly. Naturally, I can’t compare to her.”

Though her words were modest, her brows and eyes carried a natural air of pride.

As Qing Yan approached — before she had even entered the hall — the sisters saw her silhouette first.

Today, Qing Yan wore no red, but a pale purple dress. She wore light makeup, and two hair ornaments swayed gently with her steps.

She no longer covered her face with the red veil.

The sisters’ gazes slowly moved upward, finally resting on Qing Yan’s face, lingering there for a moment.

Su Ruqing stood up and greeted her gently, “I’ve long heard that Princess Huachao is a national treasure of Tao Kingdom. Today, I finally get to see you in person.”

Su Ruqing’s gentle expression was reflected in Qing Yan’s light-purple eyes. Qing Yan curved her lips into a similarly soft smile, mimicking Princess Huachao’s lazy tone: “Meeting the Lady today, I too feel it’s a shame we didn’t meet sooner.”

Su Ruqing’s expression didn’t change, but her gaze deepened slightly. She continued, “I hope the Princess won’t mind our unannounced visit today.”

Qing Yan responded, “The days are growing warmer and longer. I often find myself bored. Having you sisters visit for a chat is quite delightful for me.”

While Su Ruqing smiled and listened, her eyes calmly observed every detail of Qing Yan’s face.

Her hand, hidden within her sleeve, clenched slightly.

Su Ruche asked, “Are you settling in well?”

“The Son of Heaven is benevolent — everything has been fine.”

Qing Yan answered smoothly and politely.

Su Ruche added, “We were just worried that the Princess might feel homesick being so far from home. After all, you even shed tears from longing when you met His Majesty…”

She paused and smiled subtly.

“My sister and I thought we should come visit and fulfill our duty as hostesses.”

Qing Yan pretended not to hear the veiled jab and said, “Let’s not stand and talk — please take a seat.

You’ve come from afar, and I’m afraid the refreshments from this side palace are too plain to entertain noble guests. However, I did bring a few little trinkets from my homeland on this journey. Today seems a good occasion to gift them to the two Ladies. I hope you won’t find them lacking.”

She tilted her head slightly to look at Wen Xi and lazily instructed, “Wen Xi, go bring the gifts.”

Wen Xi suppressed her surprise. Without letting it show on her face, she gave a proper bow and went to fetch the prepared gifts.

“We brought some greeting gifts ourselves today,” Su Ruqing said. “But the Princess was quicker than us.”

Her gaze remained fixed on Qing Yan’s face.

Su Ruche glanced at her sister’s expression and added smoothly, “We also came to invite the Princess to my birthday banquet — it’s in three days. Would the Princess be willing to attend?”

Qing Yan paused for a brief moment. Then the corners of her eyes lifted with joy as she said, “I’d be delighted.”

Wen Xi returned with two prepared gift boxes.

As Qing Yan turned to retrieve the jade boxes, her fingertips paused slightly before she adjusted her posture — index finger straight, middle and ring fingers slightly bent, pinky raised gracefully. Her snow-pale hand looked like an orchid as she handed the jade boxes to the two Ladies.

After a few more pleasantries, Su Ruqing and Su Ruche stood up to take their leave.

As soon as they were gone, Qing Yan let out a huge sigh of relief.

The moment the door shut behind them, her legs gave out and she slid down with her back against the door, crouching on the floor.

Wen Xi let out a soft breath and looked at Qing Yan.

Qing Yan tilted her head up and gave her a playful, ingratiating smile: “Sister Wen Xi, I passed another round!”

Wen Xi gave a quiet “Mm” and nodded. “You did very well. You’re improving.”

“So I didn’t let Sister Wen Xi’s constant nagging go to waste!”

Qing Yan smiled proudly, her eyes curved into crescents.

She had seen how the real Princess Huachao carried herself — lazy yet alluring, noble and composed.
And before she escaped from Yi Kingdom, while she was still a maid, the young lady she served had also been a gentle, well-bred noblewoman.

Previously, Wen Xi often made Qing Yan practice the Princess’s every gesture and movement.

Qing Yan had found it difficult.

So she often recalled the elegance and poise of her former mistress, combining that with Wen Xi’s lessons — and gradually, her performance had noticeably improved.

But the moment she thought of her former mistress, the joy on Qing Yan’s face dimmed slightly.

She shook her head, forcing herself not to dwell on the past, and tugged on Wen Xi’s sleeve with a spoiled tone:

“I behaved so well today… Could we have braised ribs and chestnut chicken tonight?”

Wen Xi put on a stern face.

“Please, Sister…”

Wen Xi kept her stern expression — but still personally went to the kitchen to make those two dishes.

She had always been puzzled by Qing Yan’s fondness for greasy, heavy foods despite her delicate, pretty looks.

No matter how greasy the food, Qing Yan never seemed to tire of it.
She could even eat a whole roast chicken in one sitting, not counting the side dishes and soup.

Only once did Qing Yan casually say, “I used to never get to eat food like this.”

That made Wen Xi suddenly understand, and from then on, she instructed the kitchen to season Qing Yan’s meals more heavily.

Because Qing Yan had performed so well today, Wen Xi was unusually lenient and didn’t give her the usual evening lessons.

Qing Yan was overjoyed — she practically danced around Wen Xi three times like a child.

She even had the servants heat water early so she could bathe ahead of schedule and get a full, restful sleep — seven whole hours, ideally.

Qing Yan submerged herself entirely in the warm bathwater, her whole body relaxed and comfortable.

In the rising steam, she closed her eyes.

She didn’t even realize it, but her face wore a sweet, beautiful smile.

Though the side palace had its own guards from the Yi Kingdom, there were also over a hundred soldiers brought by General Li.
The two groups rotated shifts and often had more than one patrol team active at a time.

Even so, when Duan Wucuo entered Qing Yan’s residence, Bai Mei Pavilion, not a single person noticed.

His steps were calm, without the slightest hint of stealth —
as if he were walking in openly and the guards just happened not to see him.

He pushed the door open.

The white jade screen carved with “Cranes Singing at Dusk” blocked the view of the inner chamber.

Qing Yan heard the door and, assuming it was Wen Xi, cooed softly, “Sister Wen Xi, you promised! No take-backs.”

Duan Wucuo also heard the sound of water and guessed she was bathing.

His steps paused slightly, his gaze falling on the graceful silhouette of a woman projected onto the jade screen.

But he only paused for a second before continuing forward.

The moment he stepped around the screen, Qing Yan happened to open her eyes.

Her lovely crescent-shaped eyes quickly filled with alarm and fear. Her tightly closed lips parted slightly, as if she were about to scream.

“If you call for help,” Duan Wucuo said evenly, “not only will the guards come rushing in, but everyone will know what happened tonight — and it will ruin your reputation for nothing.”

Qing Yan stammered, “Y-You… Y-You get out! Don’t look—!”

She, who had handled two noble ladies with poise earlier today, had now turned back into a stammering, helpless little thing.

Her whole body was submerged in the bath, and the edge of the tub was slightly raised. What could he really see?

The air was thick with steam, and Duan Wucuo couldn’t even see her face clearly.

He picked up a robe hanging on the screen’s side, shook it out in front of him, and opened his arms, walking toward her.

Watching him come closer, Qing Yan’s eyes widened in panic.

Duan Wucuo’s gaze didn’t waver; he didn’t hesitate.
He walked straight to the bath, bent down, and wrapped the robe around her from front to back.

His palm fastened the collar behind her neck.

The movements were fluid, unhurried.

Now, only her head remained above the water.

Qing Yan asked in a trembling voice, “What does Prince Zhan intend to do?”

Duan Wucuo turned slightly to glance at her pale profile, then slowly lifted the ladle from the bathwater.
He raised her chin with it and said casually:

“To look at your face.”

°❀.ೃ࿔°❀.ೃ࿔

Ch 5: When the Wild Goose Returns

Because of the empress’s sudden stomach pains, Qing Yan was led to a side hall to rest.

Half an hour later, someone came respectfully to escort her back to the side palace.

Once they returned, General Li dismissed everyone else. His expression was solemn as he said, “The Emperor of Yi has ten princesses but not a single prince. So this child of the empress’s is extremely important to him. There likely won’t be another summons today. Rest and wait for news. I’ve arranged for someone to watch for any movements inside the palace.”

“We’re troubling you, General,” Wen Xi said.

General Li nodded and didn’t say more.

Just as he was about to leave, he paused, his gaze falling on Qing Yan.

For a brief moment, he was struck by a strange illusion—Qing Yan’s face seemed to transform into that of Shi Lingwu: radiant, graceful, and alluring.

“General?” Qing Yan asked, confused.

General Li’s eyes dimmed. He came back to himself and simply said, “It’s nothing,” before turning and walking out.

He stood under the eaves outside, squinting at the vast stretch of clear blue sky.

He found himself once again thinking of Princess Huachao—the woman who haunted his thoughts day and night.

It was a deep regret of his, not being able to see Princess Huachao in the luxurious red wedding robes she was meant to wear.

“I wonder how she’s doing now…”

But then he thought again: the Princess he loved, marrying into Yi Kingdom, trapped in palace intrigues and inner court battles—that would’ve been no different than falling into a pit of mud.

Now that she had found someone she loved, surely she had no desire to be immortal—only to live as a pair of lovebirds with her beloved. That alone was a blessing.

General Li turned to leave, instructing his men to gather information from the palace.

He had many things to take care of.

He had gambled with the lives of over a hundred people on this mission for the sake of the woman he loved. He had to proceed with extreme caution—there could be no room for error.

Inside the room, Qing Yan and Wen Xi sat silently, unmoving.

Both of them let out a breath, feeling the exhaustion of barely having escaped a disaster.

They both knew this was only the first hurdle.

After a long while, Wen Xi returned to her usual composed demeanor and rose to prepare a meal.

When the dishes were served, Qing Yan straightened her back, sitting with perfect posture.

She used silver chopsticks to pick up just a few grains of rice at a time, placing them delicately into her slightly parted lips, chewing with quiet elegance.

Wen Xi glanced at her and was satisfied.

Setting down her own utensils, she said, “You eat first. I’m going to speak with General Li.”

“Okay,” Qing Yan replied, raising a small cup to sip from it gently.

As soon as Wen Xi turned her back, Qing Yan’s eyes followed her cautiously.

Wen Xi stepped through the doorway and turned to close the door—at which point Qing Yan instantly lowered her gaze.

The moment the door shut, Qing Yan set the tiny cup down and, with lightning speed, began scooping food from every plate into her bowl, piling it high like a little mountain.

She lowered her head and stuffed spoonful after spoonful into her mouth.

Her mouth was small and couldn’t take much at once, so very quickly her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk’s.

The silver chopsticks clinked against the porcelain bowl with a crisp, lively sound.

—She was starving.

In the palace, several imperial physicians had thoroughly examined the empress and prescribed a calming prenatal medicine.

Emperor Wen He sat by her bedside, gently stroking her hand with concern. “Do you feel any better now, my queen? You have no idea how worried I was just now.”

“Your servant is ashamed,” Empress Su replied, looking at the emperor with deep affection.

Then her brows furrowed slightly, and a trace of hesitation flickered in her eyes—soon replaced by a soft sigh.

The emperor made a sound of concern and asked with deep tenderness, “Mi’er, what’s the matter? If something is troubling you, speak freely. I’ll take care of it—whatever it is.”

“It’s strange… I don’t even know why,” said Empress Su softly. “But the moment I saw that princess from Tao Kingdom, my heart just… started racing uncomfortably.”

Her trusted attendant, Nanny Jiang, blurted out, “Could it be… some kind of bad spiritual clash?”

Empress Su continued, “Eyes like that… who can say whether it’s a blessing or a curse?

I’m not too concerned for myself, but I worry she might bring harm to the little prince in my belly.”

The emperor stiffened.

As Empress Su looked at him with pleading eyes, as if asking him to make a decision, the emperor suddenly felt a vague pang of guilt. He looked away.

“Your Majesty!” Empress Su scolded gently, pouting just slightly in mock irritation.

“Fine, fine,” the emperor said hurriedly. “Don’t worry, I’ll summon the national diviner to the palace and ask about this strange eye color of hers.”

Though she knew full well the emperor was brushing her off, Empress Su still leaned against his arm with a contented look on her face.

How could things in this world ever go so smoothly?

What Empress Su did today was nothing more than stopping Emperor Wen He from naming a consort on the spot.

That night, a sharp scream pierced the tranquility of Huafeng Palace, startling the entire inner court—and soon after, the whole palace.

Emperor Wen He rushed over, and imperial physicians from the Imperial Medical Bureau arrived at a run.

Concubines and consorts from all the other palaces also rose, fully dressed, waiting for news.

Empress Su had been caught in a night terror. Terrified, she huddled in the corner of her bed, clutching her belly and mumbling nonsense.

Something about “strange eyes,” and “protecting the little prince”…

Emperor Wen He’s expression changed.

For the next three days, Empress Su was sleepless each night, repeatedly crying out in pain from her belly.

A gloomy air hung over the entire palace.

As Emperor Wen He passed through Chaolu Garden, he saw his daughters laughing and playing in the courtyard. His brow remained tightly furrowed.

He was thirty-six this year, yet he had no prince—only princesses.

As the ruler of a nation, that was an unforgivable weakness.

Sitting on the dragon throne, he was not unaware of the gossip among the common folk.

Many said: Emperor Wen He is utterly useless. Can’t do anything right. If not for Prince Zhan supporting him, he would’ve been ousted long ago.

He knew it well—knew he was not as capable as his ninth brother.

Can’t do anything right?

Not even produce a son?

He had so many concubines in the palace, yet all had borne daughters. Was that truly his fault?

Thankfully, everyone said the empress was carrying a boy this time…

Emperor Wen He sighed and headed toward Huafeng Palace.

Before he could enter the inner chambers, Imperial Physician Zhao came out, having just completed a routine check of the empress’s pulse, and knelt to offer greetings.

The emperor paused for a moment before asking, “You’re certain the empress is carrying a prince?”

“Your Majesty, pulse-taking cannot guarantee the child’s gender with complete accuracy,” Zhao replied. “However, based on the pulse and Her Majesty’s physical condition, there’s an eighty to ninety percent chance it’s a boy.”

Suddenly, the doors of the inner hall slammed open. Empress Su appeared in the doorway, her long hair disheveled, her face pale as snow.

Physician Zhao quickly retreated.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly as she raised her voice: “Your Majesty, have you still not made up your mind?

For the sake of bringing that enchantress into the palace as a consort, you would ignore the safety of your own wife and son?

Would you disregard the entire empire?!”

“I’ve spent every moment not attending court at the empress’s side these past few days. Since that day, I haven’t even seen Princess Huachao. Why do you accuse me so?” Emperor Wen He replied.

“Then will Your Majesty promise not to allow that witch into the palace?” the empress pressed.

“This…” the emperor sighed, “She is a princess of Tao Kingdom, who came here through a marriage alliance. Should I simply send her back? That would be a diplomatic insult, possibly sparking war…”

“She’s marrying into Yi Kingdom, but that doesn’t mean she must marry you!“ Empress Su’s eyes were red with anger and grievance.

“Tao Kingdom isn’t some barbarian land offering up beauties as tribute. This is a strategic alliance. Tao Kingdom’s strength is on par with ours. She is a royal princess—if I randomly marry her off to some court official, it would be seen as demeaning her, a snub to Tao, and would ruin the alliance. Not marriage, but enmity would result.”

Empress Su curved her lips into a cold smile and said, “I have a suitable candidate in mind.”

“She’s a princess—we also have a prince.”

“Yi only has one prince of non-imperial blood, your uncle Prince Xingyuan. As for the others—” Emperor Wen He suddenly froze.

“That’s right,” Empress Su said. “The one I mean is your ninth brother—Prince Zhan.”

“N-Ninth brother…?” Just moments ago, Emperor Wen He had been speaking with confidence, but now he stammered.

Then it hit him. “That won’t do. Ninth Brother is already engaged. Have you forgotten? He’s betrothed to your cousin Xingyuan’s eldest legitimate daughter.”

“That engagement was arranged by you.”

“Yes,” Emperor Wen He nodded, “but Ninth Brother was never satisfied with that arrangement. I had to practically beg him, and even then he only agreed reluctantly.

Later, because he went into seclusion to take vows in my place, the marriage was delayed.

Now you want to—”

“Your Majesty,” Empress Su interrupted. “Ninth Brother’s standards are impossibly high—”

Even if all the women under heaven were lined up before him to choose from, he might not find a single one to his liking.

But Princess Huachao’s looks truly were exceptional—even I, a woman myself, find her extremely beautiful.

Perhaps she might catch Ninth Brother’s eye?

Besides, back then, Ruqing pestered me to arrange that marriage for her. I was indeed the one who insisted on it. Your Majesty may have persuaded Ninth Brother to agree, but it was clear he was never satisfied with the match.

That marriage strained the brotherly bond between Your Majesty and Ninth Brother for no reason. Why not take this opportunity to go along with the tide and dissolve the original engagement?”

“This…” Emperor Wen He hesitated.

The image of Princess Huachao appeared in his mind—the moment he’d first seen her, standing below the throne, slowly lifting the red gauze from her face…

He stroked his chin, hesitating. “But Ninth Brother went to Yongzhou Temple in my place to pray and fast for the late emperor and for Yi Kingdom. He vowed to remain there for three years. It’s only been two and a half. If we make the Princess wait another six months in the side palace, Tao Kingdom may grow suspicious.”

“Then we can go through the formalities first. Hold a wedding ceremony, have them bow to Heaven and Earth—and then send Ninth Brother right back to Yongzhou Temple.”

“You mean to have them complete the wedding, remove the red ceremonial robes, and immediately put on monk’s robes again? Not even consummating the marriage? Straight back to the temple?”

“That is exactly what I mean.”

“Absurd!”

Emperor Wen He bellowed, pacing furiously inside the hall.

To marry such a stunning beauty and not even consummate the marriage before heading off to chant scriptures for another six months? What torment for a man!

Empress Su said nothing, silently caressing her stomach.

Emperor Wen He bent slightly, bracing his hands on the table. After a long pause, he finally said, “Let me think it over. Perhaps… there’s another way.”

In the following days, the chaos in Huafeng Palace quieted, and the rest of the palace relaxed slightly.

Although General Li had dispatched men to gather information, being in a foreign country made things difficult.

By the time word reached them, five or six more days had passed.

“What?”

Wen Xi looked at General Li in shock. “The palace intends to marry the princess to Prince Zhan?”

Qing Yan stared at him in stunned silence, holding her breath for an answer.

She watched General Li slowly nod his head.

Her hand, which had been bracing against the edge of the table, trembled. Her whole body seemed to wilt. She staggered back and dropped heavily to the floor.

Wen Xi turned to look and saw Qing Yan’s small, palm-sized face drained of all color—utterly stunned.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Wen Xi hurried over to help her up.

She was used to Qing Yan always smiling. To see her like this was a rare sight—and quite unsettling.

“I really won’t be marrying the emperor?” Qing Yan grabbed Wen Xi’s hand, her eyes full of hope.

“In my opinion, marrying into the prince’s manor is far better than entering the palace,” Wen Xi said seriously.

“But I want to go into the palace!”

Qing Yan’s voice was nearly a wail, but her eyes were too dry for tears, swollen and stinging.

Did she volunteer to take the princess’s place just to chase glory and wealth?

Was she vain, dreaming of triumphing in the back palace through cunning and favor?

General Li looked at her with a faintly contemptuous shake of his head.

Wen Xi’s expression turned serious. “The emperor is twenty years older than you, with many concubines already. Empress Su is powerful and jealous. The inner palace is treacherous, full of schemes for favor—what’s so good about that?”

Qing Yan sniffled twice, sulking. “Isn’t the emperor known for growing bored of women quickly?

The more concubines, the better! I’ll keep my head down, and soon he’ll forget all about me. I’ll avoid pregnancy, avoid fighting for favor—why would anyone want to harm me?

Then I’ll cozy up to the empress—massage her shoulders, rub her legs, I’m great at that! Maybe I’ll make a few sisters who like to chat and drink wine.

Food and clothes delivered daily, no worries about survival.

Wouldn’t that be a great life?”

Just the thought made her happy.

Her eyes curved in a smile, and her dimples deepened.

She clutched Wen Xi’s hand, beaming. “Sister Wen Xi, then we could live out our days in peace in some quiet palace courtyard, never lacking food or warmth!”

Wen Xi was speechless.

Even General Li began to look at Qing Yan oddly.

But now—now they had to tell her she was to marry Prince Zhan?

Qing Yan’s expression instantly collapsed. She lowered her head, completely crestfallen…

°❀.ೃ࿔°❀.ೃ࿔

Ch 4: When the Wild Goose Returns

Duan Wucuo took a step forward.

Qing Yan’s eyes widened. Guiltily, she took a step back.

His strides were long; hers were short. Even as she stepped back, the distance between them remained close—so close that Qing Yan could faintly catch a pleasant and unfamiliar scent from him.

She wanted to retreat again, but Wen Xi’s hand on her lower back stopped her.

In her ears, she could almost hear Wen Xi’s countless scoldings: Look at you—where’s even a hint of a princess’s poise?

The pitiful little Qing Yan immediately stiffened her posture, doing her best to appear like a proud, dignified princess.

She straightened her back and lifted her chin, puffing out her chest with effort.

Duan Wucuo was caught off guard by the sudden motion and, almost instinctively, his gaze dropped to her chest.

Because of their height difference, Qing Yan had to tilt her head up to look at him. The red veil of her face covering brushed against her cheeks. The bamboo hat on her head nearly slid backward.

Duan Wucuo’s eyes shifted upward slightly, landing on her raised, delicate chin.

“Tao Kingdom’s Princess Huachao?” he asked.

Qing Yan restrained the urge to curtsey. Instead, she nodded with forced arrogance.

—She dared not speak, afraid her voice would tremble.

Wen Xi frowned slightly and, with the guards behind her, lowered herself into a formal bow.

Duan Wucuo stepped forward again, closing the distance between them in an instant.

Thump, thump—the sound of Qing Yan’s heartbeat seemed to ring in her ears.

“There is no Prince Zhan at Yongzhou Temple.
This humble monk’s Dharma name is ‘Not Listening.’”

He smiled with his eyes, though his expression revealed neither joy nor anger.

“Oh, and,” Duan Wucuo added in a low voice, “though I may be a wine-and-meat monk, I’m no lustful monk.”

As he said it, his gaze deliberately drifted downward again—to where Qing Yan was still puffing out her small chest with effort.

Qing Yan froze in place, cheeks instantly burning bright red, the flush spreading all the way to the tips of her ears.

Thump thump thump.

Duan Wucuo plucked the bamboo hat off her head and walked past her without pausing.

He tossed the hat casually behind him. Bu Er caught it.

Qing Yan stood rooted to the spot, feet heavy as lead, staring blankly at Duan Wucuo’s retreating figure.

He stepped through the arched stone gate, heading toward the scripture hall.

As the arch’s curve slowly obscured her view, Qing Yan couldn’t help leaning to the side to keep looking.

The scripture hall had open windows on all sides. Despite the cold, the doors and windows were left wide open.

Inside, the monks of Yongzhou Temple were all chanting the morning sutras.

Duan Wucuo entered and picked a spot at random, sitting cross-legged with practiced ease.

The abbot, eyes closed in meditation, opened them to glance kindly at him, offering a faint smile.

Two and a half years ago, when Duan Wucuo had first arrived, the abbot had begun to give him a Dharma name. Before he could finish the sentence, Duan Wucuo had impatiently said, “Not listening.”

The abbot had simply smiled—and named him Not Listening.

It wasn’t clear if it was because Duan Wucuo hadn’t shaved his head and still wore his hair tied up, but among the neat rows of monks, he stood out so strikingly it was hard to look away.

Under the eaves, the rain continued to fall, drip, drip, drip.

Qing Yan slowly turned back, reaching up to touch the damp top of her head. Suddenly, Duan Wucuo’s earlier comment echoed in her mind—“Blind.”

“…Oh.” She finally realized why he’d put the bamboo hat on her head.

—Because she had called him a monk, he had shown her his hair.

And after removing the hat, he’d casually used her head as a stand to place it.

“Cough.”

Wen Xi’s light cough startled Qing Yan, making her shoulders jump. She turned to look at Wen Xi, and before the older woman could speak, Qing Yan quickly straightened up and said, in her best attempt at dignified speech, “We are weary. Let us return.”

Back in their room, after Wen Xi shut the door, Qing Yan immediately tore off her red face veil and tossed it onto the table. She grabbed Wen Xi’s hand and earnestly asked, “Sister Wen Xi, did I mess up?
What did he mean by ‘lustful monk’? Did Prince Zhan misunderstand something?”

“He did,” Wen Xi replied plainly. “Prince Zhan meant you were being far too obvious.”

“That’s impossible!”

Qing Yan was stunned.

She wasn’t trying to get his attention—she was scared of him! Prince Zhan had practically been her childhood nightmare.

Thinking back on how she’d carried herself just now, she frowned and glanced down at her own chest.

“I—I wasn’t…” she mumbled, voice growing smaller.

Qing Yan murmured a weak defense and turned to the side, lowering her head. A hint of girlish shyness, tinged with faint disappointment, showed on her face.

Wen Xi said nothing. She fetched three books—one placed on top of Qing Yan’s head, the other two balanced on each of her shoulders.

Then she made Qing Yan spend the entire afternoon walking around the room to practice her posture.

Even by the next morning, when they set off, Qing Yan’s legs were still sore.

From Yongzhou Temple to the imperial palace in the Yi Kingdom’s capital, it took another six days of travel.

That winter was exceptionally cold. Even though the New Year had already passed, there was still no sign of warmer weather.

Although the six days remained bitterly cold, they were fortunate not to encounter any more storms or snow. The journey was smooth, and they arrived safely in the capital.

During that time, the guards sent to pursue He Ping returned empty-handed.

They had found traces of him early on, but the trail disappeared soon after, and they couldn’t track him further.

Sending more than thirty people out of a hundred-person escort party to hunt He Ping would’ve drawn too much attention—especially on Yi Kingdom’s soil. Worse, if He Ping exposed the secret about the princess’s identity switch, it would be a disaster.

General Li had no choice but to call back the pursuit and pretend as though nothing had happened, focusing instead on escorting the false princess safely.

Meanwhile, he had already dispatched secret messengers back home to send trusted people into Yi Kingdom in disguise, to quietly eliminate He Ping.

Once the princess’s marriage was complete, he’d have more freedom to deal with the matter.

The Yi Kingdom sent officials to receive Qing Yan, personally escorting her to a side palace near the imperial residence, where she would await her audience the following day.

It had been a month since Qing Yan learned she was to impersonate Princess Huachao for the marriage alliance. At first, she’d been nervous beyond words. But now, on the eve of meeting the emperor, her nerves had strangely settled.

It was Wen Xi, usually calm and composed, who was more anxious this final night. She paced around the room, restless.

Qing Yan lay on the beauty couch, a cloth soaked in medicine covering her eyes.

Hearing Wen Xi’s footsteps back and forth, she couldn’t help but speak up:

“Sister Wen Xi, why do I have to act like Princess Huachao anyway?

Princess Huachao is great, yes, but are all princesses in the world great?

I don’t believe it.

There must be shy princesses, and silly ones, and bratty ones too! Hey—right!
Why can’t I be a bratty princess, holding a little whip and smacking whoever annoys me…”

“You? Using a whip on someone?

You’d go soft in the knees before you even raised it.”

Sometimes, Wen Xi didn’t understand Qing Yan’s optimism—nor could she help but envy it a little.

Wen Xi sighed, walked over to the beauty couch, and sat on the edge. She lifted the cloth gently from Qing Yan’s eyes and said, “It should be about time now.

Open your eyes and let me see.”

The medicine always stung badly, and Qing Yan’s eyes were aching again.

Her lashes fluttered slightly as she carefully blinked, slowly opening her eyes.

Wen Xi’s expression was calm, but inwardly, her nerves were taut.

After the recent treatment, a faint trace of violet had appeared in Qing Yan’s eyes.

But it was still too light—barely noticeable.

Today they’d increased the dosage, hoping to deepen the color further.

Only when Qing Yan fully opened her eyes did Wen Xi finally let out a deep breath.

Qing Yan was watching Wen Xi’s face closely.

Seeing that, her heart leapt. She quickly grabbed a mirror to check her reflection, staring curiously into her own eyes.

Her eyes, once dark and clear, now held a layer of violet that felt unfamiliar—even to her.

Did they look better?

Qing Yan couldn’t quite tell. But deep down, she still preferred her original pitch-black eyes.

The next morning, Wen Xi, who hadn’t slept all night, woke Qing Yan early.

She applied another round of medicine to Qing Yan’s eyes and carefully went over all the key points for the day—yet again—even though she had already explained them countless times before.

Entering the palace, Qing Yan walked across the polished marble floors of Yi Kingdom’s inner court.

With her head slightly lowered, she saw her own reflection in the mirror-like surface—dressed in bright red from head to toe.

Forcing herself to ignore the discomfort in her eyes, she looked up at the majestic pearl-and-jade halls ahead and finally felt a hint of fear.

A eunuch’s high-pitched voice echoed as he loudly announced her arrival.

Qing Yan’s hand, hanging at her side, trembled ever so slightly.

Just before stepping into the Hall of Eternal Peace, she leaned in and whispered to Wen Xi:

“Sister Wen Xi, if Qing Yan messes up and gets exposed on the spot…

You must shout and claim I deceived you all—that I coveted delicious food and pretty things and plotted to impersonate the princess—that you were all forced into it!”

Wen Xi froze for a moment at Qing Yan’s words, her emotions a tangled knot of feelings.

It wasn’t a court morning assembly, yet standing inside the Hall of Eternal Peace were several of the empire’s highest-ranking ministers, along with a number of royals and nobles.

The emperor, seated at the top in dragon robes, looked nothing like a traditional ruler—his round face wore a perpetually kind, gentle smile.

Though Prince Zhan and the emperor were born of the same mother, their appearances couldn’t have been more different.

It was said the late emperor was as handsome as Pan An, and Prince Zhan had inherited some of those features—only to surpass them, refined and more striking.

The current emperor, however, more closely resembled the Empress Dowager—broad-faced, warm, and benevolent in demeanor.

Empress Su sat beside him.

She wasn’t what one would call devastatingly beautiful, but her arched brows and high features gave her a natural aura of sharpness and pride.

Her garments were regal and splendid, and her abdomen was noticeably rounded—she was with child.

Looking more closely, one would notice that not only the empress, but the other consorts too, had all gone to great lengths to dress beautifully today.

General Li stepped forward to present a letter written personally by the emperor of Tao Kingdom, followed by some customary diplomatic formalities.

Qing Yan didn’t really register what was being said between General Li and the emperor of Yi. Her mind wasn’t on their words.

Not until the empress spoke:

“So this is the famous Princess Huachao?

They say her light violet eyes and celestial beauty can make a thousand blossoms bloom and birds sing in welcome.
At last, I have the honor of seeing her in person today.”

Qing Yan could feel it clearly—countless pairs of eyes were fixed on her.

Don’t panic.
Don’t panic.
Don’t panic.

Inside her shoes, her toes curled tightly with nervous tension.

Qing Yan responded in the soft, practiced tone Wen Xi had trained her in:
“Stories from the common folk are rarely true. While I was indeed born with uncommon eyes, I possess no such talent to summon birds or bloom flowers.”

The hall fell completely silent.

Qing Yan stood with perfect poise, her hands folded gracefully in front of her. Beneath her calm exterior, the thumb of her lower hand slowly curled inward, nervously pressing into the gemstone ornament at her waist.

Empress Su smiled. “Princess Huachao is far too modest. That only makes me more curious to see her face.”

Even the emperor leaned forward slightly, gazing down at Qing Yan with growing interest.

The pressure of so many eyes in the grand hall was suffocating. Even her scalp tingled.

With this many people watching, Wen Xi couldn’t speak up or offer reminders like usual—she could only stand silently, head lowered, and hope everything would go smoothly.

Beneath the red veil, Qing Yan took a deep breath.

She gathered her courage. Her clenched thumb slowly relaxed, and she lifted her hands to gently pull back the red gauze.

As the veil lifted, her fair chin was revealed first, then her rosy lips, and finally, her entire delicate face.

She was dressed in red throughout the journey, but today her attire was especially elaborate. Even the red veil she used to cover her face was adorned with gold and gemstones.

The vivid red of her outfit made her skin appear even fairer—like snow, glowing like a lotus flower in bloom.

Inside the hall, many of the men couldn’t help but glance a second time. The expressions of the women grew subtly complex.

Suddenly, just like before, the medicine in Qing Yan’s eyes seemed to stir again, as if tiny insects were crawling inside.

She resisted the urge to rub them, but the discomfort grew unbearable. Tears welled up, soaking her pale violet irises, and slowly rolled down her cheeks.

A beauty shedding tears—heartbreaking and tender.

She did not know how many hearts in the room had been moved.

Qing Yan cursed silently. This is bad. She felt she had failed again. Flustered, she quickly lowered her head.

To others, however, she appeared to be a shy beauty—bashful and speechless, lowering her gaze at just the right moment.

The gazes of the men in the room deepened.

Even the emperor on his high throne seemed briefly stunned. Then, almost involuntarily, he stood up.

The empress’s face instantly darkened.

The emperor stared at Qing Yan, smiling as he spoke:
“The princess, far from home, carries such deep longing. It is truly moving.

We…”

Suddenly, the empress cried out, “Aiyo!” Her brows twisted, and her face contorted with pain as she clutched her belly.

“What’s wrong, my queen?” the emperor asked in alarm, hurrying to her side.

The maids and attendants rushed over in a flurry.

“Your Majesty…” the empress gripped his hand tightly, speaking through clenched teeth, “I… I don’t know what’s wrong. My stomach suddenly hurts so much!”

“Imperial physician! Summon the imperial physician—now!” the emperor shouted, his voice sharp with urgency.

°❀.ೃ࿔°❀.ೃ࿔

Ch 2: When the Wild Goose Returns

The wind had stilled, and the rain had lightened. Barely two ke—half an hour—had passed, and the storm was no longer as fierce as before.

He Ping walked ahead in a hurry, and Qing Yan followed close behind, lifting the hem of her skirt as she moved quickly to keep up.

Along the secluded path leading to the back mountain, they occasionally passed a few young monks.

Whenever the monks saw Qing Yan, they bowed their heads and quickly stepped aside to avoid her.

They passed through a gate—still within Yongzhou Temple—before He Ping finally slowed down to wait for her.

As she caught up, he suddenly spoke.
“Do you have confidence?”

“Huh?”

Qing Yan blinked in confusion, caught off guard by his abrupt question.

He Ping chuckled softly, his voice calm and gentle.
“Princess Huachao is known as one of the Three Treasures of the Tao Kingdom—not just because she’s beautiful.”

“I know.”

Qing Yan glanced around to make sure no monks were nearby before continuing in a soft voice:
“The Princess… is the best in the world! She knows everything, she can do everything. She’s beautiful, kind, and wise—like a fairy who descended from the heavens…”

He Ping pushed open the wooden gate to the back mountain and stepped through.

Qing Yan was still softly praising the princess when He Ping suddenly turned and said,
“Qing Yan has her own strengths too.”

She paused, startled. Then a smile quickly brightened her face. Her eyes curved as she replied,
“Everyone has something good in them.”

He Ping’s pupils contracted slightly, then slowly returned to normal. He turned back around and continued walking.

Qing Yan frowned. Something about He Ping felt strange today.

She stopped briefly, then continued walking.
“In this kind of weather, how did the Princess even get up the mountain?
Where is she?”

He Ping glanced around and casually pointed to a thatched hut halfway up the slope.

“Then let’s hurry.”

Qing Yan quickened her pace.

He Ping watched the red figure dart past him and stood still, eyes resting on her light and graceful form.

“Little Qing Yan.”

She turned her head, puzzled.

There were no stars or moon in the sky. Her eyes glistened softly in the shadows, damp with mist.

The red veil brushed across her cheek, and her eyes—so close—seemed separated by a thin, dreamlike fog.

Enchanting. That was the first word that came to He Ping’s mind.

“Zither, chess, calligraphy, painting, poetry, wine, flowers—how many of these can you do?
Give it up.
You’ll never be able to pass for the Princess.”

He stepped forward.

“Have you thought about what will happen if you’re exposed?
The Princess has already fled, off somewhere enjoying herself with her lover.
How many heads do you have to offer if things go wrong?

King of Yi is ruthless. If he finds out you’ve deceived him like this, turning you into a mutilated corpse and feeding you to snakes would be considered mercy.”

Qing Yan gave him a strange look.

She was born in the Kingdom of Yi and had lived there for fifteen years.

The king might be cowardly and weak-willed, but he wasn’t cruel.

She’d heard that when generals raised their voices in court, the king would tremble so badly he could barely speak.

“You’re trying to scare me,” she said calmly, voicing her thoughts aloud.

“Even if the King isn’t the real threat, the palace struggles aren’t something you’re prepared for. You’ll—”

“Thank you for the warning,” Qing Yan interrupted. “But did the Princess actually come?”

He Ping didn’t reply. He lowered his gaze, fiddling with an earring in his palm, and said,
“The Princess went off to find her beloved.
And little Qing Yan—you’re really going to go and marry a stranger in a harem of three thousand?

Don’t you want to find someone who truly loves you?”

“No.”

A sudden seriousness overtook Qing Yan’s expression, as if she were remembering something.
“All that talk about ‘true love’ and ‘soulmates’—it’s all lies.
A man’s so-called sincerity is the most unreliable, most useless thing in the world.”

He Ping looked at her, surprised.

By now, Qing Yan understood—Princess Huachao had never come. He Ping had led her here on purpose.

But why? She still didn’t know.

Was it just a warning? Genuine concern?

They’d known each other for six months, but they weren’t especially close. Qing Yan didn’t believe it was just kindness.

“My words are sincere,” He Ping said. “Qing Yan has her own kind of beauty.”

He paused.
“No—In my eyes, little Qing Yan is even better than Princess Huachao.”

He stepped forward again.

Time was running short. He couldn’t afford to stay here any longer.

“We’ve known each other for a while, but I don’t even remember when it began.
One day, I just suddenly realized—
you’re the one who truly descended from the heavens.”

Everyone says Princess Huachao is beautiful, but I think it’s nothing more than her violet eyes adding a bit of charm.

My Qing Yan is the real beauty—so beautiful it defies description, untouched by dust and impurity.

Qing Yan, come with me.

Let’s go now.

Just follow this path.

He Ping stepped forward again, reaching out to lift the red veil covering Qing Yan’s face.

Qing Yan stepped back, avoiding his hand.

“You’re General Li’s personal guard! If we run away, he’ll be severely punished!”

He Ping suddenly let out a cold laugh, and a twisted expression flickered across his face.

“Hah, personal guard?

What use is that? General Li? Hmph.

Ah… better to run off with Qing Yan.

Just like Princess Huachao and her lover, living freely and happily…”

General Li would never care about past loyalty. If he didn’t escape today, the general would not spare him.

Yes, he truly desired Qing Yan—but it wasn’t out of passion strong enough to throw everything away.

Still, escaping with a beauty by his side would be a fine reward.

And if, because of this, General Li could be charged with dereliction of duty, all the better.

He Ping curled his lips into a smile—sinister and cold.

“Sister Wen Xi!”

He Ping froze and whipped around, but there was no one behind him.

Before he could turn back, a sharp scream rang out from behind.

“Ah—!”

He had never imagined that the soft-spoken and sweet-voiced Qing Yan could produce such a sharp, piercing cry.

Her scream tore through the stillness of the temple and the mountains.

He Ping quickly recovered and lunged forward, trying to cover Qing Yan’s mouth.

But Qing Yan had been prepared. She turned and ran.

Screaming as she fled, she covered her ears with her hands.

They weren’t far from Yongzhou Temple—surely someone there would hear her, and the guards would come soon.

“Stop screaming!”

He Ping’s face darkened as he gave chase.

What had begun as a simple idea—to steal away a beauty while making his escape—was now unraveling, and Qing Yan’s resistance enraged him.

A darker impulse rose within him. At that moment, he no longer intended to flee with her—he just wanted to have her here and now, enjoy it once, then leave.

But reason pulled him back. General Li’s men would be here soon.

If he couldn’t have her, then he’d rather destroy her.

A cruel glint flashed in He Ping’s eyes.

There was a flash of silver—the dagger in his hand.

He was tall and strong; he quickly caught up to Qing Yan.

The glint of the dagger flickered. Qing Yan’s heart jumped. She knew she couldn’t outrun him.

The guards would be here soon, but He Ping could still land a fatal blow before fleeing.

Heart pounding, her foot slipped. She fell backward and began rolling down the mountain slope.

But in the very next moment, a strange joy flashed through her.

After the winter rain, the mountain paths were either muddy or covered in ice. It was already hard to walk. Maybe rolling down would get her away faster than running.

The world spun around her. In the blur, she caught a glimpse of He Ping’s furious face.

He Ping turned back to glance at Yongzhou Temple. As expected, he didn’t pursue her. He gave her a vicious glare before darting down a different path.

He had already committed a serious crime. General Li would never forgive him.

And now, trying to abduct the false princess—if General Li found out, there would be no chance left for survival.

Seeing He Ping run away, Qing Yan felt a wave of relief and tried to stop herself.

But the sky was dim, and she hadn’t realized just how steep the back slope was. The icy ground offered no grip at all.

She was picking up speed.

Panic started to rise. She couldn’t see clearly, and as she tumbled, she reached out desperately, trying to grab onto something.

But before she could find a hold, her lower back slammed hard against—a tree?

Qing Yan gasped from the pain and pushed herself up from the ground with one hand.

She rubbed her wrist and, seeing it wasn’t injured, got to her knees and slowly stood.

Turning around to see what had stopped her fall, she realized—

there was no tree.

What had stopped her from falling… was a bamboo umbrella.

Qing Yan stared, dazed.

Only then did she see a person sitting on the ground, one hand resting on a propped-up knee, the other holding a bamboo umbrella planted into the earth.

He was dressed in monk’s robes, wearing a bamboo hat, completely silent.

The night was deep and dark—his face couldn’t be seen clearly.

“Ah!”

Qing Yan jumped in fright and instinctively took a step back, stumbling and landing on the ground.

A sudden gust of cold wind came howling through. It lifted and tangled the red veil across her face, fluttering up and down before her eyes, slicing her vision apart.

She stared wide-eyed at the monk before her, too stunned to react.

Patter. Patter.

The drizzle suddenly transformed into heavy rain, thick drops slamming down like beads.

With a soft whoosh, the strange monk opened his bamboo umbrella.

He held it forward.

Not to shield himself from the rain, and not to shield Qing Yan either—but to shield one small patch of ground before him.

Qing Yan was astonished. Her gaze naturally shifted to the space beneath the umbrella.

In the midst of this bleak, lifeless season, beneath the umbrella quietly grew a single vibrant green plant. On its layered, thick leaves sat a tight, snow-white flower bud.

In this season? In this weather?

She had to admit—the monk’s robes did make her feel a bit more at ease.

She asked, “Monk, what kind of flower is that?”

There was no answer.

But Qing Yan thought she vaguely heard a faint scoff.

The rain was too loud. Maybe she misheard.

The next moment, the white bud suddenly began to bloom.

First one petal, then a second, a third…

Qing Yan was utterly amazed.

She knew about the legendary short-lived epiphyllum, but this flower bloomed even faster than that.

Its fragrance was rich and lingering, intoxicating in its sweetness.

The rain poured down, drenching Qing Yan completely.

But she didn’t notice at all. Her eyes never left the flower as she watched it bloom.

Just as the final curled petal unfurled—

Snip.

Qing Yan’s smile froze on her face.

Right before her eyes, the monk clipped the newly opened flower with a pair of shears. Then, tossing aside the bamboo umbrella, he placed the white and green blossom into a wooden box and stood up.

Qing Yan stood up as well, tilting her head up to look at the tall, strange monk.

“In this bitter cold, it’s not easy for a flower to bloom like that. Why would you break it?

Maybe you thought it wouldn’t live long and wanted to save it in a warm room. But you’re not the flower—how do you know it didn’t bloom just to witness the wind and rain, to complete its life as a flower?”

Suddenly, everything fell quiet. Only the wind and rain roared in her ears.

“No one’s trying to save it,” the monk replied.

He lifted the wooden box and took a gentle sniff.

“Yanxin Orchid. It’s edible. One taste and you’ll feel blissfully drunk.”

…Edible?

Qing Yan: “…”

General Li and the guards were making their way over.

Only then did the monk—Duan Wucuo—finally look at Qing Yan.

The rain was getting heavier. She was soaked through, her hood had fallen off, her veil was askew, and her cloak had been blown completely behind her.

Mud and dead grass clung to her, leaving her in complete disarray.

And now that she was drenched, her clothes had turned nearly see-through in places.

Even though she couldn’t see his face clearly, Qing Yan had a vague sense that he’d just looked down.

A bad feeling crept into her chest. She lowered her head to look at herself—and her cheeks instantly flushed red.

Before she could lift her head again, a red monk’s robe came down over her like a blanket.

Qing Yan quickly pulled it off her head.

Duan Wucuo was already gone.

“Princess!”

General Li and Wen Xi ran over.

Wen Xi hurried ahead of the others, rushing to wrap a cloak around Qing Yan’s shoulders.

General Li stopped at a distance, not stepping closer.

Once he saw Qing Yan unharmed, he finally let out a breath of relief.

“Was it He Ping?”

Qing Yan nodded.

“The temple is a place of peace—we planned to handle him at dawn with proper discipline. But I didn’t expect him to… Don’t worry, Princess. He won’t escape.”

Qing Yan lowered her head and sniffed the robe in her arms.

Wen Xi cleared her throat lightly.

Qing Yan hesitated, then couldn’t hold it in. She whispered, “This robe smells like vinegar fish…”

°❀.ೃ࿔°❀.ೃ࿔

Ch 1: When the Wild Goose Returns

Wind and rain lashed the world. The air was bitterly cold, and the earth felt like it could crack.

The diplomatic marriage convoy from the Kingdom of Tao was traveling along the official road toward the Yi Kingdom.

“Qing Yan?
Qing Yan?
Are you having that nightmare again?”

Qing Yan slowly opened her eyes in confusion, a cold sweat dotting her forehead.

In that recurring dream, someone kept calling her name—again and again.

The two overlapping voices—one from her dream, one from the real world—merged for a moment, until Wen Xi’s voice gradually pulled her back from the nightmare she’d had countless times before.

Wen Xi frowned. “You can fall asleep even in a carriage bumping around in weather like this?”

Wen Xi was not one to smile. Her features were cool and sharp, and her expression was always stern.

Even a neutral statement from her mouth carried an innate sense of criticism.

Qing Yan rubbed her dry, sore eyes. Her long lashes clung to her pale fingertips like porcelain. The black and white contrast made her look especially delicate—her pale fingers made her lashes appear darker, and her lashes made her fingers seem almost translucent.

She smiled sweetly at Wen Xi, her eyebrows curving like trimmed willow leaves.

When her eyes curved, they looked like crescent moons lying quietly at the bottom of a clear pond.

Her soft cherry lips curled up too, revealing twin dimples at the corners of her mouth, filled with sweetness.

There was still a faint sleep mark on her face, now mixed with the softness of youth.

“Big Sister Wen Xi,” she said gently.

Even her voice was sweet—like freshly pressed lychee juice.

She had a beautiful face—not the kind of stunning, world-shaking beauty that turned heads instantly, but a different kind of charm: delicate and full of spirit.

Especially when she smiled at you—it felt like a stream of happiness flowed quietly through your heart.

Wen Xi was unmoved. She stuffed the scroll in her hand into Qing Yan’s and said, in her usual calm, even tone:

“Since you’re awake, you should read more.
No true princess is illiterate or uneducated.”

Qing Yan whispered, “But I’ve been learning my characters properly…”

Just as she finished speaking, the carriage suddenly lurched violently.

Outside, the coachman’s shout was muffled by wind and rain.

Qing Yan steadied herself and turned toward the window.

Cold wind beat against the carriage wall like a sobbing voice, hoarse and endless.

The window paper seemed torn, and the thick curtains were soaked at the corners.

Qing Yan lifted the curtain slightly, but before she could see outside, the carriage jolted again, suddenly accelerating out of control.

Inside, both Qing Yan and Wen Xi were thrown around, grabbing each other for support as they barely managed to steady themselves against the carriage wall.

“Whoaa—” The coachman’s shout stretched long through the wind and rain.

Moments later, the carriage finally came to a stop.

Hearing the sound of boots approaching, Wen Xi lifted the curtain and called out to someone:

“What’s going on?”

He Ping answered, “It was snowing two days ago, and now there’s this winter rain.
The rain hits the old snow and instantly turns to ice. The road’s getting too slick to travel!”

Hearing this, Qing Yan craned her neck to look outside.

Sure enough, the ground was glistening like a mirror.

He Ping’s gaze involuntarily drifted toward Qing Yan’s face… then away… then back again.

Though she was still petite and fragile now, he remembered how thin and bony she’d been half a year ago.

So, a girl really can change so much just by being cared for.

Without a word, Wen Xi subtly shifted her body to block his view.

She asked, “How far is the relay station?
It’s nearly dark—can we still move forward?”

He Ping shook his head. “The general says there’s still a way to go, and pushing forward might not be safe.
But this is the wilderness, and the weather’s bad—we can’t really stop here either.
He hasn’t decided yet. I’ll go up ahead to hear more.”

Wen Xi nodded and lowered the curtain.

Then she handed a red gauze veil to Qing Yan.

“We’re getting closer to the Yi Kingdom’s capital. Don’t take this off again.
We can’t let others see your eyes.”

“Big Sister Wen Xi, do you really think my eyes can look like a real princess’s?”

Qing Yan asked while obediently putting on the half-length veil, which covered her face and part of her upper body.

The red gauze fell softly, resting lightly over her crimson dress.

Wen Xi didn’t answer. Instead, she said, “It’s time to apply the medicine again.”

Qing Yan’s shoulders instinctively shrank.

She hadn’t even applied the medicine yet, and her eyes were already starting to ache.

Blinking, Qing Yan looked pitifully at Wen Xi, who was pouring water from a waterskin into a copper basin, then sprinkling in medicinal powder before soaking a cloth in it.

Wen Xi wrung out the excess water, droplets falling with soft drip drip sounds.

Qing Yan furrowed her brows—she knew she couldn’t avoid it.

So she obediently lifted the red gauze veil, tilted her face up, and did her best to keep her eyes wide open as Wen Xi placed the damp cloth over them.

The moment the cold, wet cloth touched her face, Qing Yan shivered.

Her eyes burned with pain, like fire—but she didn’t resist. She sat up straight, her little back stiff with resolve, her eyes wide open beneath the cloth, enduring the sting as the medicine soaked in.

Water from the cloth dripped down her face and slid gently into the loose strands of her hair—like falling tears.

Seeing her delicate and docile figure, even Wen Xi’s always-cold gaze softened slightly, eventually turning into a silent sigh.

The Princess Huachao of Tao Kingdom—birth name Lingwu—was famed for her beauty and talents, a woman of both grace and brilliance.

She was also born with a pair of rare light-violet eyes, unmatched in the world, regarded by Tao Kingdom as a living treasure.

After the fall of the Zhao Dynasty, ten kingdoms rose to power, and political marriages between them became commonplace.

Tao and Yi were equals in strength. To show good faith, Tao arranged a marriage alliance by sending Princess Huachao to Yi Kingdom.

But in truth, the real Princess Huachao had already eloped with her lover. The one riding in this grand marriage convoy was a substitute.

Very few among the hundred or so members of the bridal party knew this secret.

He Ping—the man who’d just reported outside—was one of them.

He was a close personal guard of General Li, the commanding officer of the escort.

And of course, General Li, being in charge of the mission, also knew the truth.

Without his help, the real Princess Huachao would never have pulled off the switch so cleanly.

He helped her because he was a man hopelessly in love.

If Princess Huachao had only given the word, he would’ve left everything behind to roam the world with her.

But sadly, the princess he adored already had someone else in her heart.

Unwilling to see her marry a foreign prince, he helped her escape and watched her run into her lover’s arms.

The other person in the know was Wen Xi.

Wen Xi had served the princess since childhood and was completely loyal.

The real Princess Huachao was a true lady of refinement—skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, painting, poetry, wine, and flowers. But Qing Yan knew none of these things.

She couldn’t even read properly—nothing about her resembled a princess. So, fearing Qing Yan wouldn’t be able to keep up the act, the real princess left Wen Xi behind to help cover for her.

The convoy continued pushing through the storm for another half-hour before coming to another stop.

Looking around, there was no shelter in sight, only a quiet temple nestled on the nearby mountainside: Yongzhou Temple, the national temple of Yi Kingdom.

Temples were places of peace and goodwill—but bringing a bridal party full of women to one uninvited was certainly inappropriate.

General Li ordered the convoy to wait at the foot of the mountain while he and his guards went up to ask for temporary shelter.

Outside the carriage, the rain had eased into a soft drizzle.

Qing Yan lifted the curtain slightly—the dampened edge of the fabric had frozen into a thick layer of ice.

The cold wind blew straight in, pressing the red veil to her cheek.

Through the torn window paper, she stared out at the slanted lines of rain—and drifted into thought.

Yi Kingdom had sharper seasons than Tao. Winter here was brutal.

When she was a child, her pinkies would always get frostbite in the winter.

Because yes—she was originally from Yi Kingdom.

She had only left a year ago.

The night she left, there had been no rain—but the same howling, knife-sharp wind.

Leaning against the carriage wall, Qing Yan’s usually smiling eyes now carried a rare trace of sorrow.

She was simply remembering some unpleasant past from her homeland. But Wen Xi misread her silence and thought she was afraid.

Wen Xi gently reassured her, “When the boat reaches the bridge, it’ll straighten itself out. Don’t worry too much.”

Qing Yan blinked in surprise, realizing Wen Xi had misunderstood.

She turned back, her lips naturally curving into a sweet smile, her face the picture of warmth.

Even the red gauze veil couldn’t hide her sincerity:

“With Sister Wen Xi here, I’m not afraid.”

Wen Xi could only shake her head helplessly.

This foolish girl—how could she still smile so easily? When it was clear that this journey was more perilous than hopeful.

Yongzhou Temple granted them lodging, and General Li soon returned.

The mountain path was steep—carriages couldn’t go up.

Qing Yan had to put on a thick red cloak and step down to climb the mountain on foot.

The wind was fierce. No matter how thick her clothing, it couldn’t block out the cold—or hide the graceful curves of a young woman’s figure.

He Ping looked up at the red silhouette ahead and clicked his tongue.

The guards were all strong and fit, more than capable of reaching the temple quickly. But by protocol, none could walk ahead of the princess.

So over a hundred people slowly climbed the mountain steps to Yongzhou Temple.

Qing Yan wasn’t walking slowly on purpose—it was Wen Xi who wouldn’t let her hurry. A princess had to move with grace and elegance.

Qing Yan kept her head down, staring hard at the steps, afraid of slipping and making a fool of herself.

A plainly dressed young man, carrying baskets on a shoulder pole, passed her with quick, confident steps, heading up toward the temple.

Qing Yan, who had been looking down at her feet, suddenly looked up in surprise, her eyes following the man’s retreating figure.

Wen Xi gave a quiet cough.

Qing Yan lowered her voice and whispered, “He was carrying roast pig and spiced chicken on his shoulder!”

“A temple is a place of purity. Why would there be such greasy, worldly things here?”

Wen Xi’s expression didn’t shift at all.

“It’s true! There was vinegar fish too!”

This time, Wen Xi didn’t even reply.

“…It’s really true,” Qing Yan mumbled.

She slowly turned her head and used her tongue to lightly moisten her cold, dry lips.

Then, unintentionally, she looked up toward the front of Yongzhou Temple—and was surprised to see a tall, lean man wearing a bamboo hat standing atop the temple roof.

Qing Yan froze.

She slipped her stiff hands under her red veil to rub her eyes.

“Ahem.”

Wen Xi coughed again.

Qing Yan knew she was being scolded for improper behavior and quickly put her hands down.

But when she looked again, the rooftop showed only slanted lines of rain—there was no one there at all.

The medicine must have damaged her eyes, she thought.

She tugged the fuzzy edge of her crimson hood and stopped glancing around.

Once they reached the guest quarters arranged by Yongzhou Temple, Wen Xi moved quickly to prepare a bath and clean clothes for Qing Yan.

Qing Yan took off her soaked cloak and lifted her dripping skirt, ready to help—but a single look from Wen Xi stopped her in her tracks.

So she sulked back with slumped shoulders and squatted by the brazier to warm up.

So warm!

Qing Yan’s eyes curved in satisfaction.

Before long, a guard from General Li’s side arrived to summon Wen Xi.

Wen Xi put down her task and rushed off.

Qing Yan rummaged through the red clothes Wen Xi had picked out and changed into them.

Since Wen Xi wouldn’t let her do anything, she could only sit idly and wait for the water to be brought.

Sitting in the chair, she swung her legs lazily. Then she suddenly remembered that Wen Xi had left in such a rush she hadn’t even changed into dry clothes.

Jumping down from the chair, Qing Yan went to look for clothes for her.

A while later, someone knocked at the door again.

“It’s me—He Ping.”

Qing Yan ran over and opened the door just a crack. “What is it?”

He Ping was raising his hand for a second knock when her face came into view—warm and lively, smiling with gentle spirit.

The scent of the young girl hit him like spring air. He froze in place, his hand still mid-air.

After a moment, he withdrew his hand and lowered his voice. “The princess wants to see you.”

“The princess?”

Qing Yan’s eyes went wide in disbelief.

He Ping had expected this reaction. He opened his hand to reveal a single earring.

Qing Yan instantly recognized it—it belonged to Princess Huachao.

“The princess sent me to fetch you. She has important instructions. This is Yi Kingdom’s national temple—it’s full of royal spies. Don’t speak too loudly.”

Qing Yan tilted her head, shifting her gaze from the earring to He Ping’s face.

“She only wants to see me? Not Sister Wen Xi?”

He Ping smiled. “Wen Xi is already with the princess. So is General Li.”

“Oh…”

He Ping urged her again, “The princess can’t stay long. Don’t delay.”

Qing Yan shut the door, went back inside, put on her veil, and her cloak, and followed He Ping outside.

He Ping led her down a narrow path toward the rear gate.

“The princess can’t appear openly. She’s in the back hills.”

He Ping pulled his straw hat lower.

°❀.ೃ࿔°❀.ೃ࿔

Ch 151: The Farmer Ger in the Apocalypse

Shen Qing wasn’t about to be fooled by a few words of self-pity, nor did he feel even the slightest bit of sympathy.

Who hadn’t suffered? Shen Zhiwei was only lamenting that he didn’t receive as much attention from his parents as Shen Zhigao did, and that was enough to break him. Then what about him? As a ger in that household, he hadn’t even had enough to eat, his clothes were patched upon patches—wasn’t his life worse than Shen Zhuang’s or Shen Xiaojian’s? By Shen Zhiwei’s logic, should he have killed them both just to get even?

Would Shen Zhiwei accept that?

Right now, however, he truly felt like killing every last one of the Shen family. A house full of rotten-hearted scum had trapped him and his mother for over ten years and had even taken the life of his little brother!

Shen Qing stood up and kicked Shen Zhiwei so hard that he flew across the courtyard. The gathered crowd let out a collective gasp, muffling their reactions. Shen Qing only sneered. “Do you still think of yourself as some tragic figure? You killed Shen Zhang, tried to harm my mother, harmed Li Jiaofeng and Shen Qiang, and you think it was all because of your parents’ favoritism? Do you truly see yourself as some pitiful victim?”

Shen Zhiwei coughed violently, his head hanging low after being kicked to the ground.

“You’re nothing but a despicable coward,” Shen Qing looked down at him with pure contempt. “If you thought your parents were unfair, then you should have confronted them. If you couldn’t bear it, you should have killed them. If you couldn’t kill them but thought Shen Zhigao was in your way and bullying you, then you should have killed him instead. But no—you didn’t dare. You only dared to take it out on innocent women and children, and now you’re playing the victim?”

Shen Zhiwei’s face turned bright red, whether from choking or embarrassment. How could he kill his parents? They were his parents! As for Shen Zhigao, he was his elder brother. But Miao Shi and Li Jiaofeng? They were just outsiders, married into the family…

No matter how much injustice he felt, he had always been the type to submit to his parents and older brother. He never dared to resist them, only taking out his resentment on those he saw as beneath him—women and children.

Shen Qing no longer bothered to look at him. Scum like this, no matter how much reason you laid before them, would never change. As long as they didn’t want to face their own wrongdoing, they would always see themselves as victims, convinced that their misdeeds were the fault of others. Talking to such a person was a waste of breath.

Instead, he turned his gaze toward Zhao Youdang and Wu Guixiang.

Wu Guixiang immediately understood and spoke up. “Now that the facts are clear and Shen Zhiwei has confessed to his crimes, we’ll deal with him according to the village rules.” She pinched Zhao Youdang’s arm hard, and he grumbled reluctantly, “Yes, right.”

Old Man Shen and Old Lady Shen suddenly snapped to attention. “What village rules? This is a family matter—it doesn’t concern the village!”

Old Man Shen scowled. “Shen Zhang was our Shen family’s child, and Shen Zhiwei is also one of ours. No matter how you put it, this is our own household’s affair, and outsiders have no right to interfere! If the village chief dares meddle in this, then are you going to start interfering whenever someone leaves an unwanted daughter or ger in the mountains to die? Are you going to enforce village rules on that too?” He glared at Zhao Youdang, using his elder status to press down. “Your father never meddled this much when he was village chief!”

Today, Old Man Shen and Old Lady Shen were absolutely furious at Shen Zhiwei! They hated him for killing Shen Zhang—though their ties with Miao Shi and Shen Qing had been completely severed, in their hearts, Shen Zhang had been the perfect, golden grandson. Not even Shen Qiang or Shen Zhuang could compare to him. Miao Shi had only needed to teach him a few words, and after reading them once or twice, he had learned them. In Old Man Shen’s eyes, Shen Zhang had been even more gifted than the so-called prodigy Tongsheng Miao from Shiqu Village!

A grandson like that could have changed the family’s fate. Maybe he could have even earned a scholar’s title—perhaps even a provincial degree. And now, all of those dreams had been shattered by Shen Zhiwei’s hands! Meanwhile, look at Miao Shi now, dressed in fine clothes, looking ten years younger, beautiful and refined; and Shen Qing, exuding nobility, gaining the favor of powerful figures, and making untold sums of money.

If not for Shen Zhiwei, Miao Shi and Shen Qing would still be part of the Shen family. The wealth and prestige they had gained would have been the Shen family’s too!

But more than their hatred for Shen Zhang’s death, they despised that Shen Zhiwei had dared to resent them, his own parents, questioning them and being unfilial! His life was given to him by them. They had fed him, married him off, and raised him this far—how dare he hold a grudge against his own father and mother?

Even so, they absolutely did not want Shen Zhiwei dead. In this era, children were not just bound to their parents by emotion; they were also their natural “servants.” As long as Shen Zhiwei was alive, they had another laborer to support them. Without him, who would tend to the family’s fields? Even with Shen Zhigao and Shen Zhuang, there were still too many fields to manage. If Shen Zhiwei was gone, how would they survive?

Old Man Shen was already old. At his age, being forced back into the fields would be real suffering!

Their reluctance to let Shen Zhiwei die had nothing to do with any remaining affection—it was purely about making their own lives easier.

However, before Shen Qing could speak, Shen Zhigao suddenly exploded. “Father! Mother! He killed Xiao Zhang! He even harmed my two unborn children! If it weren’t for Qiangzi’s luck, I’d have no heirs left! And you still want to protect him? You’re not going to enforce the village rules?”

Shen Zhang wasn’t just Miao Shi’s son—he was also Shen Zhigao’s most beloved child! After losing him, Shen Zhigao had spent countless nights drinking himself into a stupor. For years, he had been unable to cope, and for a time, he had no choice but to treat Shen Zhuang well just to secure his own future. But now, the true culprit was right before him.

How could he possibly let this go?

Old Man Shen was furious. “Shut your mouth! What do you know?” He coughed twice, his voice hoarse and raspy. “That’s your younger brother!”

Shen Zhigao’s eyes turned bloodshot, like a maddened bull. “And that was my son! I want his life in return!”

With that, he grabbed a wooden bench and, ignoring the scolding from Old Man Shen and Old Lady Shen, swung it down on Shen Zhiwei. Shen Zhuang and Zhao Aiye wailed in fright. Despite how much Shen Zhiwei’s words had hurt Zhao Aiye, this was still his husband—he couldn’t bear to let him die. Crying, he struggled to his feet, grabbed a pair of scissors, and cut the ropes binding Shen Zhiwei. “Husband, run! Go hide somewhere—I’ll bring Dazhuang to find you later!”

He understood clearly—times had changed. No matter how Old Man Shen and Old Lady Shen twisted their words and tried to argue their way out, with Shen Qing standing here today, there was no way this matter would be settled peacefully! The village chief’s wife had long been won over by Shen Qing—whatever he said, that’s how things would go! Their only chance for survival was to leave the village and seek a new life elsewhere.

The two of them were still young, and Shen Zhuang had grown up. The family had their hands and feet intact, and without the burden of the two old ones and the eldest brother’s family, as long as they were willing to work hard, they wouldn’t starve. Maybe, in time, they could even save enough money to buy Xiaojian back. Shen Qing had risen from selling firewood—surely their family of three could make it too!

So what if Shen Zhiwei didn’t love him? What love was there between most couples in the village? They were just partners getting through life together. As long as the husband treated him well, that was all that mattered—who cared about the reasons behind it?

But Shen Zhiwei didn’t follow his plan and run. Perhaps Shen Qing’s words—calling him a coward and giving him that brutal suggestion—had provoked something in him. Shen Zhiwei reached up and touched his forehead.

There was a fresh wound there, from when Shen Zhigao had smashed a stool over his head. Shen Zhiwei stared at the blood in his palm, then suddenly snatched the scissors from Zhao Aiye’s hands and lunged straight at Shen Zhigao.

It all happened too fast. Zhao Youdang was the first to react, shouting, “Stop them! Pull them apart, now!”

But by then, Shen Zhiwei had already gone mad with rage, stabbing over and over again—white blade in, red blade out. The only people who had come along with the patrol team were Miao Yu and two half-grown boys. None of them had ever seen such a scene before, and in the face of such violence, who would dare step forward? In the end, it was Shen Qing who took a few swift steps, managing to snatch the scissors from Shen Zhiwei’s hands just in time. He struck Shen Zhiwei a few times, hard enough to curl him up like a shrimp, and only then did Miao Yu and the others rush in to tie him up again.

“Drown him,” Shen Qing said, looking down at his hand, which had been nicked and was bleeding slightly. “Take him to the same place Shen Zhang drowned.”

This time, no one dared to object.

Old Lady Shen collapsed onto the ground beside Shen Zhigao, wailing uncontrollably. “How did it come to this? What sin did our Shen family commit to deserve this?”

What sin? Did she really not know? Or had she still not realized that she was the one who brought this upon them? Shen Qing sneered coldly and looked down at the fallen Shen Zhigao.

Shen Zhigao had been stabbed seven or eight times. Most of the wounds were on his arms and legs—places that weren’t immediately life-threatening. He had taken one stab to the shoulder and one to the abdomen, but they didn’t seem to hit any vital organs, so he probably wouldn’t die right away. Still, combined with the earlier slash from Shen Zhiwei, he had lost a considerable amount of blood, turning him into a human blood gourd.

Shen Qing weighed the bloody scissors in his hand and flashed a chilling smile at Shen Zhigao. To those watching, his smile was almost ghostly, eerie beyond words. “Well, now we’re even. I don’t owe you anything anymore.”

Only now did the chaos begin to subside. Old Lady Shen sat on the ground beside Shen Zhigao, sobbing and pleading. Eventually, some of the neighbors, unable to bear it, ran to fetch the village’s old herbalist to stop the bleeding. Zhao Youdang, still overwhelmed, sent Zhao Shi to hitch up the family’s mule cart and fetch a proper doctor from the village.

“Lock him up in the workshop,” Zhao Youdang ordered, pointing at Shen Zhiwei. “Tie him up tight and have four people guard him. No one is allowed to see him. Especially you!” He turned to Zhao Aiye with an exasperated glare. “You fool! If you hadn’t untied him, would any of this have happened?!”

Zhao Aiye, still shaken by what Shen Zhiwei had done, had already given up on caring. He spat, “So what if he stabbed him? He deserved it! You all never planned to let my husband live, so if he managed to kill one, it wouldn’t be a loss—kill two, and it’d be a win! You think this is such a big deal? To you, maybe. But to me, this is finally justice for my daughter being sold!”

Zhao Youdang was at a loss for words, frustrated beyond belief. He waved at two bystanders in the crowd. “Take him to his mother’s house and keep an eye on him. Make sure he doesn’t run off for the next few days!”

Not long after, Zhao Aiye and Shen Zhiwei were dragged away in separate directions. Old Lady Shen no longer had time to care about Shen Zhiwei, her natural-born laborer. Her beloved eldest son was lying on the ground, bleeding from multiple wounds. But something felt off—Zhao Youdang glanced over at Old Man Shen and realized something was wrong. The old man had gone quiet—completely still.

“Now what?!” Zhao Youdang groaned, his frustration mounting. “Somebody check on him—has he been choking on his own phlegm?!”

As chaos resumed around them, Shen Qing and Miao Shi simply stood at the edge, watching. They had once hated the Shen family deeply, yet now, seeing each of them receive their due punishment, Miao Shi did not feel the satisfaction she had expected. Instead, her heart was heavy with sorrow.

“Don’t look anymore, Mother. Let’s go,” Shen Qing said, supporting Miao Shi. “Whether they live or die, it’s none of our business anymore.”

He had achieved his goal, and the truth had come to light. Watching the Shen family struggle on the brink of ruin under his gaze did not bring him any pleasure—only a dull sense of exhaustion and distaste.

Miao Shi took one last long look at each face in the Shen family before finally nodding. After a brief word with Wu Guixiang, she turned and left with Shen Qing.

They hadn’t gone far before Li Jiaofeng came running up behind them, clutching her child. She hesitated for a long moment, as if unsure of what to say. Before, she had dared to bargain with Shen Qing, trying to negotiate, but now she looked as though she had been thoroughly terrified. After a long pause, she stammered, “…You said if I helped you, you’d give me a way out.”

Shen Qing nodded. Bringing down Shen Zhiwei and uncovering the truth about Shen Zhang’s death—Li Jiaofeng had played a part in that. No matter how effective it had been, she had sided with him throughout the ordeal. And Shen Qing was a man of his word.

“What do you want?”

Li Jiaofeng shrank back slightly, hesitating again. Before, she had only known that Shen Qing was a fierce and unyielding ger. But today, she had seen him firsthand—beating his own father, kicking open doors, flipping his uncle onto the ground, seizing knives barehanded… To her, Shen Qing was now a terrifying figure. If she had known from the beginning that he was this formidable, she never would have chosen Shen Zhigao.

If only she had known… Thinking back on everything that had happened in the Shen household, Li Jiaofeng bitterly regretted every decision she had made.

A person should never do evil—this was her retribution.

Shen Qing had no patience for her wavering. He was in no mood for further conversation. Reaching into his pouch, he pulled out the smallest piece of silver he had on him, though even that was worth at least two or three taels. “If you want to leave the Shen family, I can speak to the village chief and have Shen Zhigao divorce you. After that, you can take this silver and either return to your family or go back to where you used to live—whatever you choose.” His tone was firm as he added, “This is payment for your help tonight. We cooperated this time, and now it’s settled. But understand this—this child has nothing to do with me. I will never take responsibility for him. And as for you—we are still nothing more than enemies.”

Li Jiaofeng’s heart sank lower and lower. The last of her unrealistic hopes shattered under Shen Qing’s blunt words. Smiling bitterly, she took the silver and bowed awkwardly. “Thank you.”

Then, without another word, she turned and walked back toward the Shen household—because where else could she go?

Two days later, at noon, Shen Zhiwei was publicly drowned according to village law. A large crowd gathered to watch, with people from neighboring villages traveling a great distance just to witness the spectacle.

Shen Qing and Miao Shi did not go to watch. Instead, they took some offerings and paper money to burn at Shen Zhang’s grave.

Many people had crowded into Old Shen’s courtyard that day to watch the drama unfold, and by now, the story had spread far and wide. However, in the process of retelling, all of Shen Zhiwei’s grievances and Old Man Shen and Old Lady Shen’s favoritism had been completely erased. The tale had transformed into one of a man who sought to seize his family’s property by murdering his brother’s children.

After all, what parent in this world isn’t biased in some way? Parents playing favorites is just part of life, but as children, how could they complain? Most people in the village would become parents themselves one day, and their perspective was shaped by that inevitability. Naturally, they didn’t sympathize with Shen Zhiwei’s suffering.

At the same time, Shen Qing, who had beaten his own father, encouraged his uncle to kill his grandfather, and even kicked down his family’s doors, was now someone the villagers kept their distance from.

People always sympathize with the pitiful, often without distinguishing between right and wrong. When Shen Qing was the one suffering—severing ties with Old Shen’s family, refusing to acknowledge his own father—everyone only cursed Old Shen’s household for being heartless and deserving of retribution.

But now that Old Shen’s family was the one suffering, everyone conveniently forgot how they had mistreated Shen Qing before. All they remembered was how he had struck his father, kicked his uncle, and smashed his grandfather’s door.

Old Shen’s family was indeed pitiful now. Although Old Man Shen and Shen Zhigao’s lives were spared, Old Man Shen had nearly suffocated on his own phlegm. When he was finally revived, he showed signs of stroke and partial paralysis—half of his body was immobile, and he could no longer speak clearly. His mouth hung open, drooling constantly, and Old Lady Shen had to take care of him at all times.

Shen Zhigao, meanwhile, was covered in stab wounds and could only lie in bed. As the weather grew warmer, his wounds needed frequent dressing to prevent infection. Li Jiaofeng had secretly kept the silver Shen Qing had given her, setting it aside for Shen Qiang’s future needs. With a sick old man and an injured son to care for, the money from selling Shen Xiaojian was quickly spent. In the end, with no other choice, Old Lady Shen had to sell two acres of land.

Both sides were too busy with their own struggles. No one went to witness Shen Zhiwei’s execution, nor did anyone collect his body. Shen Zhuang, though already a half-grown boy, only cried foolishly and had no idea what to do. It was Zhao Youdang who gathered a few able-bodied men and had them bury Shen Zhiwei hastily in the mountains.

As for Zhao Aiye, after being sent back to his maternal home, his family arranged a marriage for him overnight—far from Lantang Village. His new husband was an old widower from the other side of the mountain. As soon as Shen Zhiwei was dead, Zhao Aiye would be sent off. When Shen Zhuang tried to visit his mother, he was driven away twice by the Zhao family.

Zhao Aiye cried until his eyes were nearly blind, but he never got to see Shen Zhiwei one last time.

“My child, I’m doing this for your own good,” his mother sighed. “You think your father and brothers are being heartless, but listen to me—you and your husband had a good relationship, I know that. But he was doomed. Seeing him again would only hurt you more. How could you bear to watch him…? And do you see how terrifying Shen Qing is? He’s like a living King of Hell! Think about how you treated him before—if he ever decides to settle accounts with you, do you really think you’d make it out alive? This isn’t me being cruel, son. If we don’t marry you off somewhere far away, I fear for your life!”

This was now the general sentiment in Lantang Village regarding Shen Qing. Those who had witnessed the chaos at Old Shen’s house saw how Shen Qing had kicked Shen Zhiwei flying, snatched a pair of scissors with his bare hands, and stood there smiling while covered in blood. It was terrifying.

Before, even though Shen Qing had gained favor with an influential patron and opened a workshop, the villagers still saw him as one of their own and would greet him warmly. Now, however, people avoided him, only maintaining normal interactions if they had already been close to him before.

“I don’t know what they’re so scared of! If you haven’t done anything wrong, why be afraid? They must’ve done plenty of shady things to be this jumpy,” Second Aunt Lian scoffed. She had no patience for the gossiping villagers and was indignant about their hypocrisy.

Shen Qing, however, was unfazed. “This works in my favor. Let’s see who dares slack off at the workshop now.”

Back when he hunted the wild boar, he had already made a statement. Since then, people like Wang Liuzi didn’t dare step out of line around him anymore. This was just another benefit.

“This isn’t the same as hunting a wild boar,” Second Aunt Lian muttered. She was displeased but refrained from repeating the worse rumors she had heard. Many people were now criticizing Shen Qing’s character behind his back, focusing mainly on his lack of filial piety—particularly how he had struck his own father.

Yet none of them mentioned that Shen Zhigao’s life was actually saved by Shen Qing. If not for him snatching the scissors, Shen Zhigao would’ve been stabbed to death by Shen Zhiwei.

“Forget it, let’s not talk about this anymore.” Second Aunt Lian grabbed a handful of sunflower seeds and moved on to a more cheerful topic. “My brother from my maternal family came to visit and told me that Miao Qiuduo has left.”

This was another side effect of rumors. The news of Shen Zhiwei’s execution had spread to several villages, including Shiqu Village. And along with it, other stories traveled as well.

Miao Qiuduo must have realized something—if even someone as distant as her little nephew wasn’t spared, how could she expect to walk away unscathed? As soon as Shen Zhiwei was dead, her entire family packed up and left the very next day. “No one knows if they went back to the provincial capital or somewhere else. My family says it’s hilarious—what, did she think relationships don’t need maintenance? She ignored us for over ten years, never sent a single thread as a New Year’s gift, and now she expects to take and take the moment she returns? What kind of daughter leaves home like that?”

Miao Shi, now thoroughly disappointed in her younger sister, merely sighed. “Let her go. I’ll just consider her a sister who married far away and was never heard from again. As if she never returned, as if she no longer exists.”

As they spoke, Shen Qing suddenly noticed Lian Rong running into the yard, sobbing. She stopped at the doorstep, hesitated, and then sat down in the courtyard, burying her face in her hands as she cried.

Shen Qing found this odd. Lian Rong was usually straightforward—if she was bullied, she would run straight into the house to complain, saying whatever was on her mind, no matter how impolite. If she had been wronged, she would have already stormed inside. Why was she crying alone outside?

Curious, he grabbed two pieces of cake and went over. Miao Shi and Second Aunt Lian were still deep in conversation and didn’t notice.

“What’s wrong? If you’re crying like this, why not go inside?” Shen Qing handed her a handkerchief to wipe her face and passed her the cake. Lian Rong took a bite. The sweet treat, filled with red date paste and honey, melted in her mouth and made her feel a little better.

“What’s the point? Going inside will just make my mother angry for nothing, and she can’t do anything about it anyway.” Lian Rong wiped her face again, looking like a little soot-covered kitten.

Shen Qing was even more intrigued. Second Aunt Lian was the type to get into fistfights over the smallest grievances—who in the village could possibly bully Lian Rong without facing her wrath?

“It’s my aunt!” Lian Rong sniffled, tears welling up again. “Today’s my birthday, so my grandma made me a bowl of steamed eggs. It’s our family tradition—every child gets one on their birthday.”

Steamed eggs were a rare treat—something she used to only get once a year.

“But I only had a few bites and wanted to save the rest for my little nephew. Then my aunt came back with Qiao Ge’er, saw what was left, and took the whole bowl to give to Lian Bao!”

Her voice was filled with bitterness and resentment. “Lian Bao is a boy—he’s different from worthless girls like me. He gets to eat eggs every few days, but he still had to take mine—the one I only get once a year!”

“Happy birthday,” Shen Qing patted Lian Rong’s head. “Our Rong Jie’er has grown up and become so sensible, knowing how to consider your mother’s feelings. You’re truly a good girl. Stay for dinner today—I’ll make you a full egg feast.”

But Lian Rong pursed her lips again and pulled out a roughly woven grass object from her pocket. “It’s not just about that. After I found out my egg was gone, I was so angry that I argued with my aunt for a few words. And then she deliberately stepped on the birthday gift my second brother gave me! Then she even pretended to be all innocent, saying she didn’t see it and that it wasn’t on purpose! Bullying kids like this—she’s just awful!”

That was truly excessive!

Shen Qing took the object from Lian Rong’s hands. No wonder he couldn’t tell what it was—it had been trampled. But upon closer inspection, he could still make out the shape of a woven butterfly. The grass strands were tightly knotted and carefully crafted, though now flattened into a useless piece of straw.

Lian Rong suddenly seemed to think of something, her eyes lighting up as she looked at Shen Qing with anticipation. “Qing Ge’er, aren’t you the living King of Hell? Can you take her away for me?”

Shen Qing: “…?”

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