Yesterday the young mistress had been in low spirits over the general’s departure from home, and had cried a little under the covers at night. A’Ju, tending to her, had slept poorly last night, and then there had been the jolting of the carriage for half a day. Now on the return journey the carriage rode smoothly, and sitting there holding the young mistress, she began to grow drowsy. The sun was tipping west, drawing nearer and nearer to the city, and she started to nod off, the strength in her arms gradually easing.

Pu Zhu noticed that A’Ju was dozing off and slowly slipped down from her embrace. She crept to the back of the carriage door, stuck out one pale, tender little finger, hooked open a corner of the curtain, and sneaked a look outside once more.

His two attendants rode beside their carriage. He himself had ridden ahead alone, a little distance away.

The evening light sketched the dashing silhouette of the young man on horseback, and as he moved, the golden crown binding his hair would catch the setting sun now and then, sending out bursts of golden starfire.

Pu Zhu was so transfixed she could barely look away. Then without warning he turned his head, and two sharp gazes shot straight toward her.

This turn of his head was truly too sudden — she had no time to even drop the curtain as cover, and was caught red-handed, their eyes locking together at once.

Caught peeping, she was embarrassed — but deep in her heart she also felt a sort of delight, that he had finally noticed her.

Then she thought again — he was not her person right now at all. That little flicker of delight vanished instantly, replaced by gloom.

But whatever her thoughts were racing through in that split second, the fact was that when she was caught, she had no reaction, and simply stared at him wide-eyed and blankly — until she noticed he actually raised one eyebrow lightly toward her, an expression that seemed both questioning and teasing. Her heart flared hot in an instant, and so did her head, and she broke into a smile at him — a sweet smile that curved her eyes into two crescent moons.

He seemed to freeze for a moment, then looked at her again.

His reaction gave Pu Zhu great encouragement.

One did not strike a smiling face. And besides, right now she was the Grand Tutor’s household’s little girl — guileless and innocent, and what was wrong with smiling sweetly at a kind, good-looking big brother who was sending her home?

She kept smiling at him sweetly.

He stiffened for a moment, and finally, seemingly unable to withstand the fierce warmth of the small girl before him, reluctantly tugged the corners of his mouth up, forcing out an expression on his face that could be considered a smile — the effect looking decidedly awkward — and by way of response. Then he swiftly turned his head away, cracked the whip and urged his horse, galloping forward at speed, leaving her far behind in an instant.

The young man’s riding figure ahead, in the evening light, grew smaller by degrees.

This encounter — in which she had been caught peeping and he had fled in confusion — ended with his hasty retreat.

Pu Zhu finally retrieved a little comfort from her earlier sense of defeat, and at this point heard a faint stir behind her. She turned her head to find A’Ju nearly awake, immediately let go of the curtain flap, and scrambled back on all fours to her seat, legs dangling, remembering to place both hands neatly on her knees for good measure.

A’Ju opened her eyes, found the young mistress no longer in her arms, turned her head, and saw her sitting just beside her, behaving very properly.

The light inside the carriage had dimmed — it was evening now, and it was the twelfth month, so even though no snow had fallen, early mornings and evenings were bitterly cold. Thinking of how the young mistress was usually afraid of the cold, she took her two small hands in hers and was surprised to find them warm as furnaces.

“Nurse, I’m not cold at all — if you’re cold, you can hold me to warm yourself!” Pu Zhu said, and burrowed into her arms.

She really wasn’t cold at all — on the contrary, her whole person was warm and glowing, like a small stove burning bright.

A’Ju smiled, held her close, then lifted the curtain flap to see where they were. At this, the carriage gradually slowed and finally stopped.

It seemed that ahead of them, Li Xuandu had run into someone, because Pu Zhu could faintly hear him in conversation with another person. Her curiosity was immediately piqued, and she followed A’Ju to the carriage window, poked her head out, and looked.

It turned out a group of riders had come from the opposite direction. A young aristocratic-looking man had dismounted from his horse and was bowing respectfully to Li Xuandu. Behind him followed a lavishly decorated carriage — it was apparently a family outing with female relatives, who had stopped here to pay their respects upon encountering Prince Qin.

Pu Zhu thought this young man looked somewhat familiar — someone she had likely crossed paths with in her previous life — but did not know him well enough to immediately recall which household he belonged to in the capital. She listened for a few moments, and very quickly her heart began to pound.

What a small world — enemies on a narrow road meet!

She had just been racking her brains wondering how to sabotage Li Xuandu’s marriage to Xiao Chaoyun, and now here was the very person in question right before her!

By a remarkable coincidence, this young man turned out to be Xiao Qian, Xiao Chaoyun’s elder brother, and the female relatives inside the carriage were Xiao Chaoyun and her sister-in-law, Madam Fang!

Close to the winter solstice, there was a custom in the capital for women to hurry to temples for a final prayer before year’s end, seeking smooth sailing in the new year. The most popular temples near the capital were, first, An’guo Temple to the east of the city — which was where most noble ladies of the capital preferred to go, and where Pu Zhu’s mother Meng Shi had gone today as well.

Then there was Bailian Temple to the west of the city.

Xiao Qian said his sister had wanted to go with her sister-in-law to Bailian Temple tomorrow to light the first incense of the morning. Worried they might not make it in time if they set out early the next day because of how far it was, they had left the city in advance and planned to spend the night at the Xiao family’s villa outside the western city, then set out directly from the villa the next morning. He had been escorting his wife and sister out of the city and had unexpectedly run into Prince Qin, so he had immediately come over to pay his respects.

Xiao Qian was in his twenties and, by family hereditary privilege, held the post of sixth-rank Palace Guard Company Commander at court — an idle position, but as he excelled at riding and archery, he had caught Prince Qin’s eye and often had the opportunity to be selected to accompany the prince, whom he favored hunting, on outings outside the city.

Li Xuandu was familiar with him and had exchanged a few casual words, still mounted on his horse, but in a relaxed manner.

Xiao Qian was greatly pleased, and also commanded his own wife to come out and pay her respects to Prince Qin.

There was a commotion at the front of the large carriage.

The carriage door opened, and a young noblewoman in her mid-twenties wearing a robe patterned with round flowers traced in gold emerged, helped down by the attendants, came forward before Li Xuandu’s horse and greeted him alongside her husband. She then said: “My young sister-in-law is also in the carriage, and it is inconvenient for her to alight, but the proper courtesies cannot be lacking.” She turned her head to the carriage behind her, and with a smiling expression said: “Young sister-in-law, today is indeed a fortunate coincidence to encounter His Highness Prince Qin along the road outside the city. You too should pay your respects to His Highness.”

Her words fell, and from inside the large carriage there came the sound of a maidservant drawing back a hanging curtain, rolling it up slowly. But it was not fully drawn back — it was a double curtain, and only the dense brocade outer layer had been rolled up; a single layer of translucent gauze still remained. Through the gauze, in the light of the slanting sun, the silhouette of a girl could dimly be made out — a girl of about fourteen or fifteen, her face round as a bright moon, her eyes limpid as autumn waters, with a fine nose and rosy lips. Already beautiful in herself, with the gossamer veil between them, she was like a flower seen through mist, soft and graceful and enchanting.

She said: “A daughter of the Xiao family, fortunate today to encounter Your Highness. She pays her respects to Your Highness and wishes Your Highness peace.” Her voice was gentle and bright, melodious and pleasant to hear. Speaking, the figure behind the gauze also rose, dipping toward the young Prince Qin outside in a graceful bow, then resumed her seat. The brocade curtain was lowered back into place, and everything inside the carriage was covered once more, hidden away completely, nothing visible.

This scene was truly captivating. And the more it was but a fleeting glimpse, the more it was memorable and hard to forget.

A’Ju, seeing the matter had nothing to do with their household, wanted to take the young mistress back to her seat. But Pu Zhu refused to budge, both small hands gripping the carriage window for dear life, eyes wide as saucers, practically shooting fire from her gaze, repeating silently to herself: no matter how beautiful you are, no matter how stunning, Li Xuandu has no use for you! Her previous life was the most powerful proof of this! She repeated it several times over, yet the jealousy still could not be quenched, and she hated herself for being born so many years too late. Her two small hands were practically bending the window sill.

The one consolation was that Li Xuandu, from the looks of it, had felt nothing particular about this scene — let alone saying anything in response, Pu Zhu could say with complete certainty that he had not even nodded. After that brocade curtain dropped back down, he turned back to face Xiao Qian and said: “I have matters to attend to; I will head back to the city first.” With that he turned his head, and without lingering, ordered the Pu family’s young lad to drive the carriage forward.

The young lad hastily responded, and drove the carriage on.

Li Xuandu did not pause either, and went on ahead at his own pace.

Pu Zhu then finally let go of some of the tension she’d been holding, exhaled softly, loosened her hands from the carriage window, and let A’Ju take her back. But before she had even settled properly, there suddenly came a set of footsteps behind them — it was Xiao Qian chasing after them.

She quickly wriggled free from her nurse’s arms again and lifted a corner of the curtain to look out once more.

Xiao Qian stopped before Li Xuandu’s horse and said: “Your Highness, I have a mews at the villa, and the birds there — naturally they cannot compare to the treasures in Your Highness’s own prince’s residence, but they are very dear to my heart nonetheless. Among them there is a gyrfalcon named Yizhangbai. These past few days, for some unknown reason, it has not been eating or drinking. I invited several highly skilled handlers in the capital to come and look at it; none could say what was wrong. I am deeply anxious. I have kept watch by its side all of last night, also to no avail, and it looks as though it may not last much longer. Something so trivial, I would ordinarily not dare trouble Your Highness, but having just met you here by chance, the opportunity being truly rare, I have taken the liberty to be presumptuous. I wonder if I might ask Your Highness’s help — could you spare a moment to look at it and offer some guidance, so as to save the life of my Yizhangbai?”

Pu Zhu started. A warning bell rang sharply in her heart.

Xiao Chaoyun’s brother — surely he wasn’t about to open his mouth and invite Li Xuandu to the villa to look at this sick falcon of his?

If he really went, never mind whether the bird could be cured or not — that night there would surely be a sumptuous banquet of gratitude, and then maybe Xiao Chaoyun would start playing the zither in the adjacent courtyard, the music drifting over the walls, carried on the breeze, laden with infinite longing, everything said in what was left unsaid…

Pu Zhu was on the verge of being overwhelmed by her own imagination.

Li Xuandu wouldn’t actually go, would he?

It was hard to say.

He was haughty and exalted, accustomed from an early age to everyone around him looking up to him and catering to his every wish.

The emperor doted on him, and his crown prince elder brother had so far treated him with affection. His head these days was full of nothing but hunting, and in private was probably grinding his teeth calculating how to command troops someday and bring back his aunt, to wipe clean the family’s disgrace.

Calling him naive would be flattering him. As things stood, he might just be a little fool.

And crucially — what Xiao Qian was appealing to him about was a hunting falcon, the very thing he loved most.

Pu Zhu had very little confidence in him.

Sure enough, he appeared to have his interest piqued, and reined in his horse again, asking: “Is that the Yizhangbai that won first place in the spring competition earlier this year?”

“Exactly! After it won, it was fortunate to receive the golden anklet Your Highness awarded it. I had it fastened on and have not removed it to this day. Once someone offered ten thousand gold for it, and I would not part with it. By summer I used a large jade stone as its perch to keep its claws cool, and now in winter I changed to a fragrant stand instead — yet despite this care, it fell ill in my hands. I am truly at a loss. Had I known, rather than let it come to ruin in my keeping — which is a waste of a fine creature — it would have been better to have offered it to Your Highness from the start…”

Xiao Qian wore an expression of sorrow and frustration, and added: “The villa is not far from here — only seven or eight li, and we would certainly arrive before dark.”

Li Xuandu appeared to be weighing this, and after a moment looked back.

Xiao Qian had long since noticed that small grey, nondescript canopied carriage that had been following Prince Qin at a not-too-close, not-too-far distance — clearly one of those carriages used by minor households or large-household servants for outings. He had no idea who was inside it, only that it had apparently come along with Prince Qin. Seeing Prince Qin glance back at it, he immediately said: “Your Highness need not worry — if Your Highness is willing to spare a moment, the person in the carriage, I will take responsibility for them. I will send someone to see them safely home…”

His words were only half spoken when from inside the carriage there suddenly arose a pained, muffled cry with a tearful edge to it, clearly from a young girl, giving everyone a fright, and he fell silent at once.

Li Xuandu immediately dismounted, rushed back, and asked the Pu household’s young lad what had happened.

The young lad had also been frightened by his own young mistress, and quickly knelt down: “Your Highness, it seems my young mistress has a stomachache…”

From inside the carriage there came a soft, suppressed sound of weeping from the small girl: “Oh, Nurse, it hurts so much…”

Li Xuandu’s expression shifted; he threw open the carriage door with one hand and looked inside. He saw A’Ju — whose voice could not be heard — holding a small girl in her arms, one hand rubbing the girl’s belly with a worried expression, making urgent sounds, as though asking what was wrong. The small girl’s expression was pained, her little body curled into a tight ball. Her small face was all scrunched up, eyes brimming with tears, and her little white teeth were clamped hard on her lip — clamped so hard the lip had split, thin threads of blood slowly seeping out from where she had bitten, staining her pale, soft, delicate skin, a sight that was truly alarming.

A’Ju wiped the blood away, her own heart pounding with fright and aching with distress. She still hadn’t quite understood how the young mistress had been fine just a moment ago, happily peeping at Prince Qin from behind the curtain despite her own protests — and then all of a sudden was crying out with stomach pain. But she was immediately wholly convinced, and seeing Prince Qin appear at the carriage door, without any hesitation she knelt before him, pointed at the young mistress, and let out urgent, distressed sounds.

Li Xuandu set his foot on the carriage shaft and lightly vaulted up, nimble as a swallow, one foot on the running board, and leaned into the carriage. He lifted Pu Yuanqiao’s daughter out from A’Ju’s arms and laid her flat on the seat, letting her lie straight, then gently pressed her lower abdomen.

“It hurts…”

His fingers had barely touched her little belly, hadn’t pressed down at all, before the girl shut her eyes and let out a harrowing cry of pain.

He was startled and immediately withdrew his hand: “When did it start hurting?”

“Oh… it started hurting on the way back…”

“Why didn’t you say so sooner?” His tone was slightly stern.

The small girl timidly opened her eyes, tears in her gaze, and said between sniffles: “…I smiled at you but you wouldn’t even look at me… and seeing how fierce you were with me, I was scared… I didn’t dare say anything…”

Li Xuandu paused.

The girl’s symptoms made him think of appendicitis. He knew that if it truly was this illness, and it was left too long, the consequences could be serious — even life-threatening.

Pu Yuanqiao had entrusted his daughter to him, and if before even reaching home something went wrong, he would be the emperor’s son, and it would still be difficult to account for himself to the Pu family…

Li Xuandu quickly softened his tone and told her not to bite her lip anymore. He had A’Ju tear off a strip of cloth, fold it into a roll, and tuck it in her mouth for her to bite down on to endure the pain. He glanced at her small cape, then removed his own thick outer cloak from his shoulders and wrapped the small body up snugly so that she could stay warm. He then instructed A’Ju to hold her carefully, doing her best to protect her from the jolting, and after giving his instructions stepped down from the carriage, told the young lad to give up his seat, sat himself up on the driver’s bench, and said to Xiao Qian — who was still standing on the roadside, open-mouthed and disappointed — : “When I return to the city, I will send someone to look at Yizhangbai!” With that, leaving the Xiao family to stare after him in stupefied dismay, he cracked the whip with a sharp snap against the horse’s back, and personally drove the carriage racing toward the city gates at full speed.