By the time Ziqing and Jun Beiyue arrived at the imperial capital of Da Zhou, it was less than three or four days before New Year’s Eve. All along the road from the port to the capital, they saw the bustle and anticipation of the year’s end. Whether a nation was prosperous and its people lived in peace and contentment could be told from how lively the streets and alleys were at year’s end, from the atmosphere in every household.

In present-day Da Zhou, Emperor Tianhui was nothing more than a puppet—Prince Baxian governed on Jun Beiyue’s behalf, and both within and beyond the court, everything ran in perfect order. As Ziqing traveled through this scene of peace and prosperity, she gradually came to understand why Jun Beiyue never took Nanzhao lightly.

Back at the capital, Jun Beiyue had all manner of fabrics prepared for Ziqing, in every material and color, along with jewelry of every style. An entire room in the Prince Yao residence was cleared out and set aside as Ziqing’s personal wardrobe chamber.

The Flower Queen Pageant—women were likened to flowers, and the Flower Queen was the very finest among them, the best of the best.

This custom had existed since the founding of Da Zhou and continued to this day. It was not the sort of beauty pageant held among courtesans of the pleasure quarters, but the imperial Flower Queen Pageant of the Da Zhou royal house.

It was, in essence, the female equivalent of the imperial examinations, selecting a top three: the Flower Queen, the Model, and the探花 (Third Place)—though of course, the subjects tested differed from the men’s examinations.

What the Flower Queen Pageant tested was a single aspect of a woman: her appearance.

Of course, appearance alone still left room for many different criteria of comparison.

This wasn’t merely a rare opportunity for daughters of noble families to bypass the selection process and rise directly to prominence—it was also the sole chance for commoner women to make a name for themselves.

Because of this, it could truly be said that the entire nation paid attention to it.

As chief examiner, Jun Beiyue was far too occupied with state affairs to personally attend every round of selection. He would only personally preside over the Flower Palace on New Year’s Eve, personally choosing the top three women.

This was the equivalent of the palace examination in the men’s imperial exams. On New Year’s Eve, these three women would also be granted official rank, becoming among the very few female officials in all of Da Zhou.

In terms of status, though Ziqing, as Princess Consort of Prince Yao, ranked lower than all of Emperor Tianhui’s consorts and even lower than the consorts of the Second Prince, Jun Beichen, in terms of formal rank—she nonetheless enjoyed an honor more exalted than even the Empress herself.

In terms of title, during that momentous battle at the Three Realms Territory, Ziqing had been personally bestowed by Jun Beiyue with the title “Queen of the Northern Watchtower,” placing her on equal standing with the title of “Prince Yao” itself.

One had to ask—in all of Da Zhou, even in all of the Longyuan continent, what other woman carried such a weight of honor upon her?

The title of Flower Queen, compared to everything Ziqing already possessed, honestly wasn’t worth mentioning at all.

But Ziqing understood perfectly well that what Jun Beiyue wanted was for her to hold the title of the most beautiful woman under heaven.

Since it was a grand event of the Da Zhou imperial house, since it was an event Jun Beiyue himself was presiding over, since it was a spectacle that nobles and commoners alike scrambled to take part in—if she didn’t attend, it truly would seem to spoil the occasion.

The moment word got out that she and Jun Beiyue would be returning to attend the Flower Queen Pageant, not only did the entire Prince Yao residence buzz with talk, but the common people of the Da Zhou capital were already discussing it eagerly.

Clearly, Ziqing now carried the hopes of no small number of people upon her shoulders.

She didn’t care what others thought, but seeing how busy Jun Beiyue had been these past days over this matter, the more she watched, the less she could bear it, and in the end she resolved to put her heart into it.

The Flower Queen Pageant judged women on their looks—what did Jun Beiyue know about such things? Naturally, all the ideas behind the scenes came from Situ Haonan.

“Ziqing, have you picked out the fabrics that arrived yesterday?” Jun Beiyue asked the moment he walked through the door, only for Situ Haonan, who’d followed him in, to immediately correct him. “Why are you letting her choose? This has to be decided by the tailor!”

As he spoke, he made his way over to the bolts of gleaming, vibrant fabric, sorting through them as he explained, “Come, come, let me teach you both—just because a fabric looks good doesn’t mean it’ll look good once it’s worn! The color has to complement the skin tone, the pattern has to complement the figure, understand? You have to let the tailor see Ziqing in person first, and then, comparing these two factors, make the choice!”

Ziqing and Jun Beiyue both eyed him with suspicion. After a long moment, Ziqing finally spoke. “Situ Haonan, what a shame you weren’t born a woman in this life.”

Jun Beiyue smiled without a word and settled lazily off to one side. Their time in the capital likely wouldn’t exceed half a month, so he thought of it as giving this woman a holiday—and the Flower Queen Pageant was something he’d arranged just to give her some entertainment, so she wouldn’t grow too bored.

In his heart, this woman had already been the Flower Queen all along—there really wasn’t any need for a competition at all.

Still, he found himself genuinely enjoying this preparation process. Compared to the perpetually bare-faced Ziqing he saw every day, he was rather eager to see what she’d look like all dressed up and beautifully adorned.

Watching Ziqing bicker with Situ Haonan, the corner of his lips curved unconsciously into a faint smile.

These past days, though quiet, had been exceptionally peaceful and good.

Soon, the judge Situ Haonan had summoned at Jun Beiyue’s request arrived—Da Zhou’s most renowned tailor, Autumn Mother.

Ziqing had originally assumed this would be a beautiful woman, but to her surprise, it turned out to be an old man in his fifties. If not for his rather effeminate mannerisms, it would have been genuinely difficult for anyone to bring themselves to call him “Autumn Mother.”

“This old servant greets Prince Yao, Prince Yao, and Young Master Situ.” The old man gave a slight bow, and Ziqing felt goosebumps rise all over. She wondered—could this old man really pick out the most suitable fabric for her, just as Situ Haonan claimed?

“No need for such formality, let’s begin.” Jun Beiyue said flatly, seeming a bit doubtful about this Autumn Mother himself. He glanced with a furrowed brow toward Situ Haonan, who gave him a reassuring smile in return.

“Yes!” The old man straightened up, his gaze sweeping back and forth over the long row of fabrics, before finally selecting two options and having Ziqing try them.

A maidservant held the fabric up, draping it against Ziqing’s body for effect, only for the old man to shake his head repeatedly. “No good, no good. Your Highness, forgive this old servant’s bluntness, but these fabrics would certainly look their finest on you—only, it would be your own person lending beauty to the fabric, not the fabric lending beauty to you!”

“What do you mean by that?” Ziqing asked. In matters she wasn’t skilled in, this old man’s roundabout way of speaking left her genuinely confused.

“What this old servant means is, Your Highness would look good in all of these fabrics, but not at your very best. We have other options to consider.” The old man said earnestly.

Ziqing swept her gaze over the entire row of fabrics with a furrowed brow, growing rather impatient. Every style and material imaginable was right there—did they really need to look elsewhere?

Yet Jun Beiyue, on the other hand, seemed quite intrigued. “What other options are there?”

“Prince Yao, true beauty doesn’t lie in extravagance or ornate splendor. With a face as devastatingly beautiful as Your Highness’s, excessive luxury would only cheapen it. This old servant suggests that Prince Yao and Your Highness accompany this old servant to an ordinary fabric shop in town.”

Go to an ordinary market stall to pick out fabric?

What kind of joke was this? Situ Haonan immediately objected. “It’s freezing and snowing out there! I’ll just have someone buy up every last bolt of fabric from every shop on Xuanwu Street and bring it here!”

Just as he was about to send for someone, however, Jun Beiyue raised a hand to stop him, smiling. “Ziqing, shall we go? I’ll help pick things out too.”

At these words, a complicated wave of emotion washed through Ziqing’s heart—sweet, yet tinged with a hint of bitterness.

It was just a bolt of fabric—what man wouldn’t simply send a servant to deliver a few bolts and let the woman choose for herself?

Even an ordinary man wouldn’t necessarily have the patience or the inclination to personally accompany his wife on such an outing, let alone her own man—who wasn’t merely head of a household, but ruler of an entire nation.

With such thoughtfulness, such genuine enthusiasm from him, how could she possibly live up to it with this face of hers?