Upon entering the Prince’s mansion, she wasn’t allowed to look around. She understood the rules and restrained herself, keeping her eyes fixed on her toes. She followed the young eunuch at a small trot, passing through a narrow corridor and crossing a small bridge when suddenly a fragrant aroma of flowers enveloped her. She couldn’t resist raising her eyes to look—goodness! Such a vast patch of jade hairpin flowers! The buds weren’t particularly brilliant, but they were elegantly upright, occupying most of the garden in clusters and bunches.
It seemed this Prince enjoyed gardening. Despite their high position and authority—supposedly being the Emperor’s brothers—the princes faced many restrictions. Members of the imperial clan couldn’t wander outside the capital without the Emperor’s permission. Their lives were confined, so they developed various hobbies within their mansions. Once the gates closed, they could sing opera, raise dogs, feed pigeons, or even entertain themselves planning their funerals—nobody could interfere. But outside, they couldn’t behave this way. In public, they had to maintain princely dignity. When they stood somewhere, they represented noble warriors, embodying the prestige and face of the great dynasty.
This was Ding Yi’s first time entering a prince’s mansion. Her childhood memories couldn’t compare to the grandeur here. The imperial censors regulated the etiquette and architectural specifications of buildings everywhere. Houses had to be built according to rank—the colors used for painting beams and eaves, the size of the roof beast statues—all had strict standards. When her father held the second-rank office, their mansion could only use gray tiles. Unlike here, where the main hall was covered with green glazed tiles. Indeed, one could judge status by the tiles—there was no mistake about that.
Being in the phoenix’s nest made her feel tense throughout her body. The deeper she went, the more timid she felt. She wasn’t eloquent and didn’t know how to persuade the Prince. With Xia Zhi still waiting for rescue, she truly felt caught between a rock and a hard place.
After passing through a corridor gate, Guan Zhaoking was waiting for her. She bowed at the waist upon entering, and the Chief Eunuch pointed ahead, “His Highness is in Yangxian Study. I’ve briefly mentioned your situation to him, though I don’t know the details between you two. You’ll have to explain yourself. Remember, answer only what he asks, don’t speak more than necessary, and don’t deceive him. The rules in the Prince’s mansion are strict. Don’t end up sacrificing yourself while trying to help your senior martial brother.”
Ding Yi responded with a “Yes” and asked tremblingly, “When you spoke to His Highness, what was his expression like?”
Guan Zhaoking glanced at her, thinking about his master, who had always been like deep, still waters, unlike the Seventh Prince who created waves in calm weather. He muttered, “If he wasn’t willing, would he have summoned you in? Listen carefully. When seeing the Prince, there are several things you must pay special attention to: look directly at him when speaking, and don’t lower your head as he won’t be able to see you then. Speak slowly—if you ramble like beans rattling in a pot, only you will understand what you’re saying, which is useless.”
The implication was clear: she needed to consider the Prince’s hearing. Ding Yi understood and bowed, saying, “I’ll remember everything. Thank you for your guidance, Chief Steward.”
Guan Zhaoking waved his hand and led her toward the lake. On the opposite shore stood a two-story building with upturned corners and flying eaves. In front was a large open space where an awning had already been set up. The wealthy citizens of the capital had several treasures everyone knew about—summer awnings, fish tanks, pomegranate trees; tutors, fat dogs, and plump maids. The first three were inanimate objects but necessities. In every household, once May arrived, they would hire awning makers to build cooling pavilions according to the courtyard’s dimensions, keeping them until summer’s end. The Prince’s awning differed from commoners’—while commoners’ awnings extended outward like tongues to block wind and sun, the Prince’s covered the building’s shape like a bamboo hat, with ramie cloth stretched around it and an opening at the front for people to enter and exit. When not in use, it was secured tightly, preventing even the smallest mosquito or fly from entering.
When Ding Yi arrived, a eunuch specially assigned to manage the curtains allowed her passage. Her mind preoccupied with Xia Zhi, she had no time to marvel at the exquisite craftsmanship of the awning. Two crystal lamps hung beneath the canopy, their brilliant light illuminating a person standing before a blue-and-white porcelain fish tank. He looked less imposing than when she had seen him in official dress. Now he wore a sky-blue robe with a jade belt around his waist, his silhouette elegant and his profile like jade.
The Prince seemed nonchalant, but she dared not relax. She stepped forward, respectfully swept her sleeves, and performed a deep bow, “This humble one, Mu Xiaoshu, pays respects to Your Highness.”
The man feeding the fish returned the fish food to its box, raised his eyes slightly, and said, “Rise!”
This was the second time she had heard him speak. Without looking at the person, just hearing the voice, she found it difficult to describe the feeling. It was like a fingertip brushing against a zither string, plucking, and lifting, producing a clear, piercing sound that could cleanse one’s mind.
Her hands trembled inside her sleeves as she managed to steady herself, thanked him, and rose. She opened her mouth, remembered Guan Zhaoking’s instructions, and swallowed her words. Only answer when asked, don’t speak unprompted. But the Chun Prince remained silent, so she anxiously looked at Guan Zhaoking, whose face remained wooden. She could only wait with bated breath.
Finally, he spoke, “Your martial brother offended the Seventh Prince’s dog. Explain clearly how the offense occurred.”
The Prince was straightforward, not playing games or asking why she had come to him. Instead, he seemed willing to help. Ding Yi took a deep breath, not daring to look at him and unwilling to make excuses. She chose an explanation that sounded less embarrassing: “Your Highness, the Seventh Prince’s dog wasn’t leashed. We encountered it and brought it back to our home.”
One fact, two ways of presenting it. This was better than saying “We stole the Seventh Prince’s dog.” She thought she had explained it well, but the Prince’s question immediately stumped her: “Return the dog and the matter is settled. No knot can’t be untied. Why come to me?”
The Prince probably already knew! Ding Yi felt awkward. The problem was precisely that—the dog’s appearance had been ruined, and after being tampered with, it had become stupid and no longer recognized its former master. Even if they wanted to return it, they couldn’t. Her face twisted like a twisted dough stick as she said, “Well… if we return it, I’m afraid the Seventh Prince might not recognize…”
The Chun Prince remained calm, “What happened? Did you eat it?”
“Certainly not.” Ding Yi said nervously, twisting her fingers. “My senior brother had a momentary lapse of judgment. He wanted it to help catch badgers, so he slightly modified it… trimmed the tips of its ears and cut off three inches of its tail. The dog is now a badger dog. If the Seventh Prince would take it back… it’s quite good at catching badgers.”
Had he known it was like this—that the dog hadn’t been completely ruined beyond recognition—Hong Tao wouldn’t have been so furious. Now, as a prince himself, he was dealing with such trivial matters. When Zhaoking had reported this to him, he had responded with goodwill. He had indeed put in a word for a minor official at Cai Shi Kou, but that matter had passed and wasn’t on his mind anymore. Yet today, the person had come to his door again with another urgent request. Others might become impatient, complaining about being bothered repeatedly, but he didn’t think that way. Those unfamiliar with social graces were few; people only came seeking help repeatedly when they had nowhere else to turn. Since he had done one good deed, he didn’t mind doing a second. But after clarifying the situation and discovering that the cause wasn’t very honorable, he saw no reason to get involved.
He paced a few steps with his hands behind his back. “If you can’t control your hands, it’s right for others to hold you accountable. Coming to my mansion won’t help. You’d be better off kowtowing several times before the Seventh Prince. Once his anger subsides, the matter will be over.”
Ding Yi had prepared herself for rejection, but when reality hit her like a hammer to the forehead, she realized crying was her only option. What could she do now? She couldn’t think of any solution. People say cats have cat ways, dogs have dog ways. People in their line of work had no luck establishing connections with officials and nobles. Among the current dignitaries in the capital, who was easy to deal with? The Chun Prince was their last card, but he was unwilling to intervene. She vaguely sensed trouble—Xia Zhi’s life might be forfeit this time.
The Prince had made his position clear, which was as good as dismissing her. Guan Zhaoking gave her a look, indicating she could take her leave, but she remained frozen, her eyes fixed, her intentions unclear.
Hong Ce didn’t care much for empty formalities, nor did he lack people kowtowing to him. Having said his piece, he planned to return to his study. But unexpectedly, his robe was caught—turning back, he saw the young person looking at him imploringly, large eyes brimming with tears. Previously, he had only paid attention to the lip movements, but now he noticed that this child didn’t look like an ordinary person. Perhaps due to youth, there was a beauty between boyhood and girlhood, difficult to distinguish at a glance. In his life, few people had dared to cry directly in front of him, not for any other reason but protocol and propriety. Of course, he had seen palace maids weeping with covered faces, or military officers wailing loudly, but none like this—eyes large and blurred with tears, a red-tipped nose, and a pouting mouth, appearing utterly pitiful.
“My master isn’t home. I have nowhere else to turn.” She sobbed incessantly. Grabbing the Prince’s robe was highly disrespectful; she released her grip and knelt, looking up as she said, “If you won’t save him, my brother’s life will end. He’s only twenty. He doesn’t know better. Please, Your Highness, give him a chance to live. If Your Highness would just extend a hand, I’ll repay you by serving like an ox or horse…”
Guan Zhaoking was terrified by her behavior and reproached in a hushed voice, “You brat! What did I tell you before entering the garden? Have you forgotten everything? Behaving wildly before the Prince—do you not value your life?”
Ding Yi ignored him. She knew this was her last chance. If she missed it, she would be thrown out of the mansion and never allowed back in. So she had to beg shamelessly. The Chun Prince’s reputation preceded him—he was a good person! Good people had soft hearts. If she could move him, Xia Zhi’s life would be saved. With snot and tears, she rambled on: “I have no parents. When I was little, I sought refuge with my master. It was my master and brother who raised me. Now my brother is in trouble, and I can’t save him. I won’t know how to face my master. Your Highness is a great benefactor—everyone in the capital knows it. Please do this favor for me and intercede on my behalf. I’ll serve you like a loyal attendant. Farm families ‘bring land when seeking a master,’ but I have no land, so I can only ‘bring my life.’ Though I’m insignificant, in critical moments I can take a knife for my master. Please have mercy on me, Your Highness, and save my brother!”
In today’s world, even blood brothers secretly undermine each other. For martial siblings to be this devoted was indeed moving. Hong Ce nodded, “You speak well about bringing your life to your master. I won’t deny that saving someone isn’t difficult, but the cause is embarrassing to speak of, which is why I told you to leave. Now that you’ve spoken so earnestly, I can see your determination. Seeing your sincere loyalty, I can help plead this case, but on one condition: this is a one-time favor, not to be repeated. I don’t want your life. Go back and continue your duty properly, watch over your brother, and make sure he doesn’t cause more trouble.”
Such a prince was rare in the world. They shared the surname Yu Wen, yet the difference between them was enormous. Ding Yi kowtowed repeatedly, “How can I express my gratitude for Your Highness’s kindness! I’ve remembered your words. From now on, I’ll obey the law and never cause trouble for Your Highness.”
The Chun Prince was considerate. Instead of saying he would handle it tomorrow, even though it was getting late, he asked Guan Zhaoking to bring his outer robe for a change. Ding Yi stood respectfully at the side and hesitantly said, “Night is falling. I wonder if the Seventh Prince has retired yet…”
He stretched out his hands for Zhaoking to fasten his belt and spoke calmly, “I won’t be able to report for duty tomorrow morning. Your superior won’t be able to hide it.”
How thoughtful, addressing all her concerns that she dared not voice. When you ask someone for help and they agree, you can’t rush them—it depends on their willingness. If they’re casual about it, you can only wait. But if you encounter someone with a crystal heart and liver, handling matters becomes easier. You don’t need to repeatedly humble yourself; they don’t think less than you.
Ding Yi stole a glance. It was hard to pinpoint what made a perfect person perfect, but there was an air of righteousness about him. She had always thought members of the imperial clan were experts in pleasure-seeking and opportunism, but now she realized that this kind of character was exemplary among princes. Regardless of whether his goodness was genuine, the fact that he was willing to help now made him a good person in her eyes, without a doubt.