Qun Qing was taller and leaner than Ruo Chan, standing with the posture of an upright silver spear—the wind stirred her sleeves and hair but could not sway the bamboo-like uprightness of her frame.

She kept her eyes lowered, her lashes concealing her expression. Her porcelain-white face did show signs of being shattered, but no trace of sorrow could be detected.

Qingxuan Pavilion, Zheng Liangdi—she had run straight into opposition against Princess Bao’an. Whether the Nan Chu spies hadn’t communicated with each other, or whether the Princess truly couldn’t see beneath the surface, she had actually turned around to make things difficult for her.

Lu Huating’s gaze fell on Qun Qing’s hands as she held the cat.

If in this life she had truly fallen out with the Princess, yet she clutched Yang Fu’s cat tightly, revealing a lingering connection despite the apparent break.

If it wasn’t a genuine falling out, it could only be an act—perhaps Nan Chu’s mission had changed, preventing her from being honest with the Princess.

This woman had always been able to endure; she could even express heartbreak as indifference.

Lu Huating didn’t understand the feelings between Qun Qing and the Princess. He only knew that in this palace where one licked blood from knife edges daily, if even the Princess humiliated her, she must be suffering piercing agony.

How pitiful. An extremely faint, cold smile crept across his lips.

“Did Princess Bao’an also strike her?” he asked Ruo Chan casually.

Qun Qing was clearly right beside them, yet Ruo Chan didn’t know why this lord wouldn’t speak directly to Qun Qing but instead caught her to question. Perhaps she seemed more approachable, so she could only answer: “She didn’t strike her, but the Princess made elder sister kneel as punishment and made her wipe her sleeves…”

Disregarding propriety, Qun Qing turned and walked away quickly.

She had been standing there only because she hadn’t recovered from her earlier daze, not to lose face in front of Lu Huating.

“Madam, please wait.” Lu Huating’s voice came from behind her.

Through the shadow on the wooden bricks, Qun Qing saw the shadow of his hat and hairpin approach from behind, until it merged with her own shadow.

This distance… he was practically pressed against her. That cold scent of sandalwood mixed with citrus wrapped around from behind, transforming into a small patch of coolness that seeped out from the back of her neck. What exactly was he doing?

Lu Huating tilted his head slightly, his gaze sliding past Qun Qing’s raven-black hair to fall on a cinnabar mark behind her ear.

It was a mark he had placed when helping arrange someone’s body. In the first year of Shenglin, this cinnabar mark had already been there.

Having confirmed this detail, he raised his hand to pluck a fallen leaf from Qun Qing’s shawl, then stepped back two paces: “The cat in your arms seems uncomfortable.”

Before Qun Qing could speak, she heard him say calmly: “Madam, could you turn around to speak?”

Constantly keeping her back to someone was indeed rather impolite. Qun Qing had no choice but to turn around, keeping her eyes fixed on the belt at Lu Huating’s waist. Standing in someone’s shadow felt uncomfortable, so she sneaked a glance upward and discovered he was looking down at the cat.

The cat was trembling all over, its ears pressed back, making whimpering sounds in its throat with a fierce expression.

Lu Huating extended two fingers and, ignoring the cat’s hissing and bared teeth, gently stroked along its fur, saying to the cat: “Why so frightened? Were you scared by Prince Yan in his armor earlier?”

Qun Qing said: “The Chief Administrator is standing too close. It’s you who’s frightening it.”

Lu Huating paused, withdrew his fingers, and after a long moment, stepped back another pace.

“You know my official position?” he asked.

Qun Qing’s eyes focused sharply, and she said calmly: “When you served as prayer official last time, I heard other palace servants mention it.”

“Qun Qing.” Lu Huating looked down from his height and suddenly called her name. When this name emerged from his mouth, it sounded as familiar as if he had called it a thousand times before, piercing through a mystery.

Qun Qing’s head shot up abruptly, looking at his face.

Lu Huating stood with his back to the light, his upturned eyes black as deep pools, staring at her for a long while before glancing expressionlessly at Ruo Chan: “I also heard it from her.”

“Miss Qing,” he pulled up his sleeve and continued placing his left hand on the cat’s head, saying, “We’ve encountered each other several times now. Why be so guarded?”

His movements were casual but fairly patient and gentle. As neither spoke, the cat gradually calmed down, no longer bristling its fur, and even began licking his hand and playing with him.

At that moment, Lu Huating took something from his sleeve and hung it around the cat’s neck with extreme lightness and speed. The cat, startled, let out a strange cry, and Qun Qing’s hand had already clamped down heavily on his wrist.

Realizing he had no intention of harming the cat, Qun Qing hastily released her grip, but it was too late—the cat opened its mouth and bit down on Lu Huating’s finger, preparing to extend its claws to scratch. Qun Qing jumped in alarm and pinched its canine teeth: “Pull your hand out.”

Lu Huating withdrew his hand and glanced at it—his fingertip was dripping with blood.

Hanging around the cat’s neck was a small twilight-purple sachet embroidered with carp fish in silver thread, swinging back and forth with a clinking sound inside. With one squeeze, Qun Qing knew it contained coins.

“If you’re returning money, just return money—who told the Chief Administrator to tease it?” Qun Qing didn’t dare say it was her grip that had startled the cat, and said without any guilt: “This cat doesn’t understand human kindness. When frightened, it bites people.”

Perhaps her earlier strike had been forceful, for when Lu Huating looked at her again, there wasn’t a trace of smile on his face, and sharp glints showed in his black eyes.

He truly detested being touched by others.

Qun Qing said nothing, rubbing her fingers inside her sleeve—touching him was her own bad luck.

As she was thinking this, she watched helplessly as the sandalwood bead bracelet on Lu Huating’s left wrist broke its red cord, and the beads fell like rain.

Immediately, Qun Qing reached out to catch them, but it was futile—the scattered sandalwood beads slipped through her fingers and fell. Lu Huating was also quite surprised. Looking down, the sandalwood beads bounced everywhere across the ground, spilled water impossible to gather.

She had broken it? She hadn’t used that much force, had she?

Qun Qing crouched down with the cat to gather them, her heart extremely unsettled: She remembered that Lu Huating had nearly died young in childhood and was sent to be raised in a temple. The sandalwood beads on his hand had been bestowed by Master Zengjia, functioning like a life-protecting talisman, and had never left his person for years. Breaking them today was an extremely inauspicious omen.

This man was already rebellious by nature—she didn’t want to be resented by him.

Lu Huating looked at his now-empty wrist, not knowing what he was thinking. His robe brushed past her ear as he walked away without a word.

“Lord Lu.” Qun Qing called after him from behind, her voice clear and crisp like rain falling from the eaves: “How many beads were on your bracelet? Qun Qing will retrieve them for you. Don’t take your anger out on the palace servants.”

Lu Huating had already reached the corner, his snow-white garments like an epiphyllum in the night. His answer came after a long delay, emotion indiscernible: “Seventeen beads. If you can’t find them all, forget it. I never take anger out on others—there’s someone else who does that.”

Qun Qing looked at her palm, then clenched it tight.

She and Ruo Chan counted together—they had only retrieved sixteen beads in total. The remaining one couldn’t be found no matter what, whether it had fallen in the grass or rolled into a ditch.

“Duty is important. I’ll come back to search later.” Qun Qing placed the sandalwood beads in her own pouch, then looked at Ruo Chan’s face and hands. Seeing her face had swollen up, she said: “I’ll deliver it. You go back and rest first.”

“The wooden tray is broken and the soup has spilled—how can we explain this to the Crown Prince?” Ruo Chan said. “Elder sister, wait for me. I’ll go back and get a fresh portion.”

Qun Qing had already hidden the sachet as well. She stroked and soothed the cat in her arms for a long while, then called over a palace maid passing from Luanyi Pavilion and handed her the cat: “You go back. I have my own explanation.”

Once no one was around, Qun Qing picked up the half-bowl of soup and brought it close to the stone seat—a crisp clinking sound rang out.

The white porcelain bowl inlaid with gold thread now had a chip broken from its rim.

Shouxi wasn’t there. The Crown Prince was discussing matters in the main hall, with only a young eunuch guarding the entrance.

He came to stop her, but Qun Qing simply shook him off and burst through the hall doors.

As the hall doors opened with a sound, Li Xuan looked sharply toward Qun Qing. Across from him, several shadowy figures sat behind curtains—there should be three advisors there.

Seeing her not only burst in but also disheveled and full of anger, Li Xuan’s expression darkened further.

Qun Qing set down the wooden tray: “Your Highness, forgive this servant. Just now Prince Yan blocked my way, which caused the delay.”

As expected, when Li Huan—an even more detestable person—appeared, Li Xuan’s fury immediately redirected. He looked Qun Qing over, noticed the damaged soup cup, and his gaze deepened: “Did he make things difficult for you?”

“Prince Yan learned this servant was heading to the Eastern Palace, blocked the path and wouldn’t let me pass, and even grabbed my shoulder, intending to strike. Fortunately, the Chief Administrator from the Prince’s mansion arrived and persuaded Prince Yan to leave.”

Since Li Huan dared appear before her today, she would naturally retaliate to calm her feelings. Before entering, she had even deliberately disheveled a few strands of her hair.

Sure enough, her words were like oil splashing on fire.

One advisor said: “Prince Yan’s position is precarious, yet he still dares such provocation—how arrogant!”

“He even dared touch His Highness’s soup cup. Where does he place the Eastern Palace in his eyes? Isn’t this bringing things into the open?”

Li Xuan’s expression was dark, but he said nothing. After a while, he raised his hand to stop the discussion: “This Prince believes Third Brother isn’t that sort of person.”

As he spoke, his chilling gaze fell on Qun Qing’s face.

Qun Qing lowered her head and said: “This servant dare not deceive. Princess Bao’an saw me first and came to make difficulties. Prince Yan thought I was bullying the Princess, so he made a move…”

Before she finished speaking, Li Xuan had already irritably taken a sip of tea. The advisors exchanged glances, believing eight-tenths of the story, and sighed one after another: “Prince Yan loses his head whenever Princess Bao’an is involved. The lust that rests beneath the character for love is truly a blade—who knows what enchanting potion this former dynasty princess has given Prince Yan.”

“The Crown Prince should marry Princess Bao’an soon to cut off Prince Yan’s hopes.”

“Absolutely not! I say we should keep distance from Princess Bao’an. Looking at Prince Yan’s manner, he wants the beauty rather than the kingdom. If he harbors resentment and later covets his elder brother’s wife, wouldn’t that plant the seeds of disaster?”

One person pulled the topic back: “From this palace maid’s words, Zheng Fu led Prince Yan to an audience with His Majesty, but Chief Administrator Lu was already waiting in the palace—how do we know he isn’t planning to assist from the sidelines? Prince Yan should have stumbled several times already, but this person always turns the tide.”

“If my guess is correct, His Majesty will issue the decree at the autumn banquet. Lu Huating is skilled at discerning the Emperor’s intentions—if he intervenes again this time…”

“He doesn’t even need to intervene. The Ministry of Finance manages all the city’s authentication tokens, but I’ve heard that Lu Huating actually controls the method for verifying their authenticity. If he doesn’t hand it over, the token system will be paralyzed, and there will be no way to ensure those entering and leaving the city gates aren’t spies. As long as he uses this as leverage, His Majesty will hesitate. Your Highness, should we submit that secret memorial and first remove this Lord Lu from Prince Yan’s side…”

Li Xuan thought for a long time, then nodded slightly.

Qun Qing then saw an inner attendant take out a memorial from a chest. This memorial was one size smaller than ordinary memorials, with its hard paper cover sealed with rhombus-patterned red gauze—it was a secret memorial.

Generally, secret memorials were often related to serious moral failings of officials.

So the Crown Prince held leverage over Lu Huating.

Qun Qing hadn’t expected that striking at Prince Yan would send the arrow flying toward Lu Huating instead.

She didn’t know what crime Lu Huating had committed…

Qun Qing suddenly noticed that Li Xuan was staring at her.

She and Lu Huating supposedly had no connection whatsoever. Lingering here, staring at the memorial with a thoughtful expression—this was far too suspicious.

She hesitated for a moment, her lashes trembling: “Your Highness, this servant… collided with Princess Bao’an on the road. The palace maid beside her is skilled at twisting black into white and will report this servant to Your Highness. This servant is very frightened…”

Li Xuan’s eyes shifted from sharp to puzzled. He felt he might have been mistaken, and pointed toward the door: “Withdraw.”

The towering hall doors closed forcefully before Qun Qing’s eyes.

She brushed off her clothes, left the palace hall, and walked back quietly.

That evening there was a banquet, and several senior palace maids in Qingxuan Pavilion were busy. Lan Yue was helping Zheng Zhiyi change into palace attire.

Emperor Chenming disliked extravagance. After his ascension, he had gradually abolished Chu kingdom’s frequent night banquets, retaining only festival grand banquets, and established “Four Seasons Banquets” at the end of each season to celebrate with feasting and strengthen bonds between the imperial family and close ministers.

Tonight’s autumn banquet to be held in Hanyuan Hall was one such event. Because autumn was the harvest season, its scale was the largest, and the dress code requirements were the highest.

Zheng Zhiyi placed the crown atop her coiffure. In the past she had felt quite good about herself, but now looking in the mirror, her expression became insecure: “So many people will see me tonight. Do I really look good like this? Isn’t this crown too large? Isn’t my face too dark? Last time they secretly mocked me, saying I was a country girl.”

Seeing Qun Qing enter carrying flowers, Zheng Zhiyi nearly jumped up: “My golden thread chrysanthemums only had this one bloom, and you cut it off!”

Qun Qing’s hands held not only chrysanthemums but also osmanthus and roses—a brilliant yellow handful.

Lan Yue ran out to look and saw the flower bed had been harvested into chaos, then ran back in dismay: “Do all of you from the Yeting Court have such cruel hearts?”

Qun Qing didn’t know what connection existed between the Yeting Court and cruelty.

Zheng Zhiyi and Lan Yue had personally cultivated these plants with bent backs, their feelings for that flower bed far exceeding imagination. This made Qun Qing feel quite guilty, and her voice softened: “Liangdi, tonight is precisely the moment to make an impression. We can’t wait for the flowers to fully bloom.”

As she spoke, she ruthlessly inserted the not-yet-fully-opened flowers into prepared warm water, then began arranging Zheng Zhiyi’s hair.

“Liangdi is young—wearing a formal crown looks aged. In a moment, this servant will use fresh flowers to create a crown, which will appear more youthful.” Seeing Zheng Zhiyi’s eyes fill with uncertainty, Qun Qing lifted her chin from behind: “Hold your head up. Didn’t Liangdi used to be very confident? Actually, Liangdi’s face shape is balanced and blessed. Many empresses throughout history had such features. If anyone mocks Liangdi, you should rebuke them loudly.”

“Hmm?” Zheng Zhiyi was half-believing: “Didn’t you all say before that my scolding was crude and I shouldn’t speak carelessly?”

“This servant said rebuke, not curse. Ordinary times are ordinary times; banquets are banquets. When you wear these palace garments, you are a noble lady.” Qun Qing maintained her sincere expression: “With this servant behind you, what does Liangdi have to fear?”

Lan Yue cast a cool glance at Qun Qing—these words were truly shameless. Yet Zheng Zhiyi actually believed her and even smiled, radiant as evening clouds: “If Miss Qing says I am, then I am.”

Once the high coiffure was finished, the golden thread chrysanthemums and other small flowers had been coaxed open into bright, upright splendor. Zheng Zhiyi watched Qun Qing trim them, adding them one by one to her temples, and felt as if she too was like those coaxed flowers—with the support of her garments, growing brilliant and dignified bit by bit, becoming someone she had never dared believe she could become.