“Prince Qin Brother, what are you laughing at?”

When his laughter had finally subsided somewhat, Pu Zhu asked with a show of puzzlement.

Li Xuandu had not laughed so freely and heartily in a very long time.

In the eyes of others, he was the emperor’s beloved youngest son, the lofty and exalted Prince Qin. But in his own heart, he too had his private sorrows and frustrations.

All along, he had never forgotten the vow he had made at age seven when he saw his aunt off as she left the capital to be wed far away.

What he wanted was to destroy the Eastern Di and wipe clean the family’s shame. Yet as he had grown up, his imperial father had grown old, and with age had come the loss of the bold ambitions of his vigorous years.

Although over these years Pu Yuanqiao had submitted memorial after memorial urging the court to formally establish a Protectorate-General in the Western Regions, his imperial father had never given his approval. The matter had dragged on for so many years that now, if one hoped to make his imperial father resolve to act, it would likely be even harder than before. Because once a formal Protectorate-General was established in the Western Regions, it would signal that the Li dynasty was determined to directly contest control of the Western Regions with the Eastern Di. Conflict would inevitably escalate from that point, and large-scale war would become a very real possibility.

Li Xuandu could understand his imperial father’s hesitation and indecision.

A great war required the full strength of the entire nation to sustain it. If they lost, it would be a catastrophic disaster for the court and the country. And not fighting, maintaining the status quo, seemed to have no major impact on the overall situation either.

And so in the current court, aside from a small number of iron-blooded ministers like Jiang Yi and Pu Yuanqiao, the vast majority of people were unwilling to speak of war.

As for himself — though he had great ambitions and great confidence, what use was that?

He was nothing more than a young imperial prince carrying the honorary title of General of the Hawk-Soaring Guard, without a single deed of merit to his name.

Court affairs were simply not his place to speak on.

Born into the imperial family, surrounded by wealth and privilege — yet the long-held longing deep in his heart, to “ride forth from the vermilion palace gates and encircle the dragon city with iron cavalry,” felt so impossibly distant. He had no idea which day would ever see it fulfilled.

And now, on top of all that, he was faced with another source of vexation: the taking of a consort.

Once the new year passed, he would turn sixteen. Taking a wife had become something he “must” do.

Though he had not the slightest interest in the matter, it was an unwritten but long-standing convention that imperial princes wed at sixteen.

His crown prince elder brother and his two other imperial brothers had all married at fifteen or sixteen.

Not only that — his imperial father and Liang Empress, who had raised him since childhood, both cared deeply about his lifelong happiness and had been preparing for the matter of selecting his consort for a very long time.

Though he did not wish it, he had no grounds to refuse. And whom he married was not truly a matter for him to decide.

Take his maternal cousin, for example.

In his eyes, she was only a cousin. But he had known for over two years already that his cousin would inevitably marry him in the future. This was the inescapable outcome of both family affection and social expectation working together.

To be high and exalted did not mean that everything could go as one wished.

On him too there was an invisible rope, binding him.

This was his life.

That afternoon on the road outside the city, he had encountered the Xiao family, and Xiao Qian had brought up the sick falcon in front of him.

Who in all the capital did not know that he loved falconry?

He did genuinely care about that sick bird.

If the Xiao family’s daughter had not been among the candidates for his princess consort, he would certainly have gone in person to take a look.

But the Xiao woman was one of the candidates, and she had happened to be right there on the same road.

How could he go?

At the time he had thought to use the little Pu girl tailing along behind him as a convenient shield, planning to return to the city and then send a skilled falconer on his behalf to examine the sick bird. He hadn’t expected the little girl to conveniently develop a stomachache at just the right moment. Though she had deceived him, she had also — without intending to — done him a small favor.

All the subtle, hidden matters of his heart that lay beneath his brilliant exterior had always had to be buried deep inside, with no one to confide in. At this moment, being able to laugh so freely, laugh until his sides ached — the gloom that had been weighing on him lately over the marriage matter seemed to have lifted somewhat. Now, seeing the little girl still looking up at him asking what he was laughing at with a completely bewildered expression, and thinking of her notion of “getting married,” which was pure and innocent to the extreme, adorable to the extreme, and also hilarious to the extreme, he truly could not help it — he bent over with laughter for a little longer before managing to stop with some effort. He tugged at her little bun on top of her head once more, let go before she could get annoyed and start hopping about in protest, and laughed: “Stop talking nonsense. It’s late — I’ll take you home!”

Having finally turned a losing situation around, Pu Zhu had no intention of parting from him so easily over such a good opportunity.

She shook her head and said very seriously: “Prince Qin Brother, I wasn’t talking nonsense! That beautiful young lady sitting in the carriage outside the city today — does she want to become your princess consort too? I deliberately pretended my stomach hurt because I didn’t want you to leave me behind and go off with her.”

“Prince Qin Brother, please don’t take a princess consort yet. Wait a few more years for me, until I’ve grown up, alright?”

“I will definitely grow up to be even more beautiful than that beautiful young lady — you’ll definitely like me!”

Li Xuandu was now both exasperated and amused, and thought that if he didn’t give her a little scare, this little girl wouldn’t know her limits.

So he put on a stern face and said: “Stop talking such nonsense! Say another word and I’ll be angry!” Sure enough, after he said this, the little girl fell silent — but the two large eyes slowly began to shimmer with a glassy gleam, reflecting the lamp-glow. Very quickly, large fat teardrops came pattering down her small cheeks.

He had actually frightened her to tears.

Li Xuandu immediately regretted it. He hurriedly glanced back at the people behind them, moved a little closer to the girl, and used his own body to block her from view, lowering his voice to coax her: “Alright, alright, don’t cry — I’m not angry with you!”

“Really?” The little girl wiped her eyes.

Li Xuandu made a few sounds of affirmation.

“Prince Qin Brother, you’re so wonderful!”

In an instant, the small girl had gone from tears to smiles.

Li Xuandu was completely at a loss with her.

Be harsh with her — she cried. Try to reason with her — she didn’t understand any of it.

For a moment he didn’t know what to do with her, thought it over, and finally hit upon an idea.

He asked her in as gentle a voice as he could manage: “Shuzhu, do you know what an imperial decree is?”

Pu Zhu nodded: “An imperial decree is the command of His Majesty the Emperor. Everyone under Heaven must obey it.”

Li Xuandu praised her for being clever, then continued: “Prince Qin Brother taking a princess consort now is just such an imperial decree — it cannot be disobeyed. So Prince Qin Brother cannot wait for you to grow up. Do you understand?”

To think he could come up with such a reason to brush her off.

No matter how he put it, he was still going to marry someone else!

Pu Zhu fumed inwardly, but she also knew when to cut her losses. She pouted her lips: “I understand now.”

Seeing this little girl had finally stopped clamoring to marry him, Li Xuandu let out a quiet breath of relief. Knowing it was late, he said he would take her home, told her to go sit in the carriage, was just about to go and call A’Ju over — when he suddenly remembered something, and called the girl back.

Pu Zhu saw he seemed to have something to say to her and felt a little curious. But she did as he instructed and came back out of the carriage.

“Prince Qin Brother, what is it?” She tilted her small face up to ask.

Li Xuandu lowered his voice: “Those things you said to me just now — don’t tell anyone about them. That includes your mother. Do you understand?”

So he was uneasy about her and giving her these instructions.

Pu Zhu nodded obediently: “I’ll remember. I won’t tell anyone.”

Li Xuandu nodded, was just about to send her back in, when he suddenly thought of something else, hesitated for a moment, and called her back yet again.

He certainly had a lot to say. Such a long-winded person.

Pu Zhu complained inwardly again and turned around once more: “Prince Qin Brother, is there something else?”

Li Xuandu felt these words were a little difficult to say, but he couldn’t leave them unsaid. This little girl was guileless and naive, and had grown into a pretty little thing — if by chance…

He lowered his voice: “Shuzhu, those things you said to Prince Qin Brother just now about getting married — apart from not letting anyone including your mother know — from now on, if you ever meet other older boys elsewhere and think in your heart that they look wonderful and you like them, you must not say so to them either. Do you understand?”

Pu Zhu was taken aback at first, then quickly understood.

So he was worried that she was young and naive and might be taken advantage of.

Her heart warmed — but outwardly she put on a look of confusion: “Why?”

Li Xuandu felt mildly embarrassed, coughed once: “Prince Qin Brother is a good person and would not harm you. But there are many bad people in the world. If next time you said such things to a bad person, that person might do something harmful to you. Do you understand?”

“In short — remember this: never say such things again in the future.”

Pu Zhu nodded earnestly: “I know. I only like Prince Qin Brother — I’ll only ever say such things to you, Prince Qin Brother. No matter who else it might be, I would never say it!”

Li Xuandu’s mood was pleasant, and he was even more unable to suppress a smile. He casually tugged at her little bun once more, and said with a smile: “Alright, go in and sit properly now!”

Pu Zhu immediately seized the opportunity: “Prince Qin Brother, can I come find you to play in the future?”

Li Xuandu didn’t even think about it, refusing flat out: “No. I’m very busy!”

Pu Zhu pouted, but saw he was already ignoring her, turning to call A’Ju over. Left with no choice, she obediently got into the carriage and clambered up onto the seat.

A’Ju was in the carriage shortly after, and the carriage began to move back toward the Pu household. The journey was smooth, and Li Xuandu, at the final hour of the evening, delivered her to the outer gate of the Pu Mansion.

Meng Shi had returned home at dusk, and learned from the servants that her daughter had actually gone out of the city that very morning to chase after her father, accompanied only by A’Ju. Very worried, she had already sent the steward after her, but he had not yet come back, and she was burning with anxiety. Then suddenly a servant reported that Prince Qin had escorted the young mistress home, and she was both shocked and overjoyed. She hurried out to welcome him. At the gate, she bowed her thanks to Li Xuandu and invited him inside. Li Xuandu naturally would not go in, graciously declined, mounted his horse, and rode away.

Meng Shi brought her daughter back inside and listened as her daughter explained that she couldn’t bear to see her father leave home, and had acted on impulse that morning and gone to chase after him.

Her daughter and her husband were deeply attached — seeing that she had admitted her mistake, Meng Shi hadn’t the heart to scold her too harshly. She said a few words and told her not to ever be so bold and reckless again in the future. Seeing her daughter agree, looking well-behaved and obedient, she let it go and made arrangements for them to rest for the evening.

Pu Zhu lay in bed, turning the day’s events over in her mind.

If she did not sabotage his marriage discussions now, once the matter was settled, by the latter half of the year — without the Liang Crown Prince’s coup — he would very likely marry without a hitch. And when he did, he wouldn’t be marrying just one woman; he’d be taking two at once.

It was too much to bear. Absolutely unbearable.

She had to sabotage it!

But trying to ruin his marriage from the woman’s side was not very feasible.

Even if she found a way to dispose of Xiao Chaoyun, there was still his cousin.

And taking it a step further — even if both of them were out of the picture, other replacements would emerge.

Based on everything she knew of him from their previous life, she believed that the young Li Xuandu of today was not particularly enthusiastic about the matter of taking a wife and establishing his household. Things were simply proceeding according to the wishes of the emperor and empress, and he simply was not opposing them.

Then the best approach — and the simplest — was to work from Li Xuandu’s own side.

If he himself decided that he did not want to discuss marriage right now, and held firm to that, and refused to give his consent — wouldn’t that be enough?

Given how much the emperor doted on him, he would surely not push him too hard.

But how to make him come to that decision?

She lay in bed, lifted her small arms and little legs and looked at them, then patted her flat little chest and round little belly, thought of how unhesitatingly Li Xuandu had refused when she’d asked to come find him to play at their parting this evening, and felt thoroughly dejected.

In the blink of an eye, several days had passed, and it was nearing the end of the year. The whole household was busy with preparations. On the day of the Winter Solstice, Meng Shi was to enter the palace to pay respects to the empress along with the other titled ladies of the capital in celebration of the festival.

Pu Zhu sat in the room watching her mother do her makeup, listening as her mother chatted idly with Zhang Ao and the others. After a few exchanges, the conversation drifted to the topic of Prince Qin taking a consort.

No wonder her mother would be discussing this — it had lately become the subject of private lively discussion among the noble ladies of the capital.

Her mother quickly got to talking about the Xiao family’s daughter, saying that both her parents were living, she came from a distinguished household, and was herself gifted with talent, beauty, and virtuous character. It was said that Liang Empress was very pleased with her and had invited her into the palace today as well.

If nothing went amiss, she would very likely be the leading candidate for Prince Qin’s princess consort.

Zhang Ao interjected: “I heard His Highness Prince Qin also has a maternal cousin from the state of Que?”

Pu Zhu heard her mother say: “Yes. She’s also an exceptionally outstanding girl. I once met her at the Empress Dowager’s residence — she’s currently living in the Penglai Palace. Once the new year is past, the matter should be settled. Most likely one will be the primary consort and the other a secondary consort.”

Everyone listened with keen interest.

Zhang Ao sighed admiringly: “That night when His Highness Prince Qin sent the young mistress home, I was fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of him at the door alongside the lady of the house. He is truly an extraordinarily gifted young man. The Xiao daughter and that cousin from the state of Que — to be married to him would truly be a perfect match.”

Pu Zhu bristled with fury and could not help blurting out: “His Highness Prince Qin doesn’t even like them!”

Everyone in the room was amused by this childish outburst.

Meng Shi shook her head with a smile: “What does a child know about such things? Don’t go saying such things outside!”

Pu Zhu knew she had spoken out of turn and fell sulkily silent.

Meng Shi finished her makeup, changed into her formal palace-entry attire, and before leaving — thinking the palace would be lively today as usual from years past, and that it would likely be dark by the time she returned, and A’Ju was busy with many tasks today — warned her daughter not to make more trouble for A’Ju, then took her people and rode out in the carriage.

After Meng Shi left, Pu Zhu imagined the scene of the young Xiao Chaoyun and Li Tanfang in the palace, both in the bloom of youth, shimmering and radiant like jewels and jade — while she herself didn’t even have the qualifications to accompany her mother into the palace. She brooded about it for the entire morning, until after noon, when maidservant Jin Zhen came to find her and whispered that Lai’er had returned.

Lai’er was the young lad who had driven the carriage for Pu Zhu the day she chased after her father. Hearing this, Pu Zhu immediately slipped out of the room.

Lai’er was hiding in a corner under the eaves of the corridor. Seeing the young mistress arrive, he hurried out and reported that he had spotted His Highness Prince Qin — today, as expected, he had turned up in plain clothes at the polo field in the South Market, with only one attendant by his side.

Li Xuandu had forbidden her from coming to find him, but she absolutely could not listen to him on that.

She had heard Li Xuandu tell her in the past, speaking of his youth, that he had often disguised himself and slipped out of the palace to go play polo at the South Market field with others. So she had dispatched Lai’er to stake out the South Market for her every day. Lai’er had been keeping watch there for several days already; the previous days had turned up nothing, but today he had actually spotted Prince Qin, and had rushed back to report.

Pu Zhu was immediately filled with energy.

A’Ju had to take the household’s female servants today to make the various pastries needed for the New Year celebrations and clean the rooms and courtyard. Pu Zhu pretended to take an afternoon nap, and once A’Ju had gone, told the maidservant that she wanted to sleep the whole afternoon and was not to be disturbed, sent her away, stuffed a pillow under the covers, grabbed a small bundle, and — taking advantage of the whole household being too busy to pay her any attention — successfully slipped out the back gate. There she changed into the boy’s clothes she had prepared in advance, put a hat on her head, brought Lai’er along, and set out for the South Market.

The streets of the South Market were lined on both sides with shops and stalls, and were ordinarily the liveliest place in all the capital. With the year’s end approaching, it was even more so — streams of carriages and crowds of people flowed like water, filled with men and women doing their New Year shopping. She headed straight for the polo field. She could hear the roar of the crowd from that direction before she even arrived.

The polo field was a sea of humanity, people packed in so tightly there was nowhere to stand. But she managed to exploit her small size and nimbleness, squeezing through the gaps in the crowd until she finally pushed her way in. She had barely found her footing when her gaze swept the field and instantly landed on Li Xuandu among the dozen or so riders out there.

Today he was wearing a purple narrow-sleeved casual outfit with tall riding boots. To keep the sweat from getting in his eyes, he had tied a plain black headband around his forehead — which only made his swept-back brows and matchless good looks stand out even more. She watched as he controlled his horse and swung his mallet on the field, charging back and forth with boundless energy, his figure like a streak of purple lightning. He was not only the center of attention for the entire crowd, but on the upper floor of a nearby building that appeared to be a pleasure house, young women all dolled up in bright clothing had crowded onto the balcony, leaning against the railing and calling out loudly toward his direction.

The moment Pu Zhu caught sight of his figure, her eyes lit up and her whole body seemed to fill with hot, surging blood. She couldn’t help it — she joined in with the people around her, stomping her feet hard and cheering for him at the top of her voice.

Li Xuandu had just snatched the ball from under an opponent’s horse and was about to make his shot when, without thinking, he raised his head and saw a boy on the other side of the field’s railing.

Boys wandering around this area were nothing out of the ordinary, but this particular boy… seemed somehow familiar.

He instinctively looked again, and with a start recognized who it was — it was the daughter of Pu Yuanqiao, the girl he had bumped into a few days ago. Her name was something like… Shuzhu.

He froze for a moment and nearly lost his grip on the ball. He quickly recovered his wits, pushed the ball off to one of his teammates, then rode his horse to the edge of the field, vaulted swiftly from the saddle, and strode in large steps toward the small girl who was now bounding along joyfully toward him.

He had spotted her this fast — Pu Zhu was thrilled, and ran toward him. But she had barely reached him, hadn’t even had time to call out, before he grabbed her by the scruff and hauled her to a sheltered resting spot at the side of the field. He opened with: “How did you end up here? Did you come alone?”

Finding her here near the polo field, where the surroundings were a jumble of all sorts — taverns and pleasure houses visible everywhere — left Li Xuandu stunned.

“I came with someone! Look, he’s right over there!”

Li Xuandu turned his head and saw the Pu household’s young lad staring at him with a face full of terror. He furrowed his brow: “This is no place for you to be! I’ll have someone take you home immediately!”

Pu Zhu quickly said: “I came to find you — I have something important to tell you! It’s true!”

Li Xuandu still frowned, looking down at her. At this moment, he heard his teammates calling out for him loudly from behind.

“Prince Qin Brother, go ahead quickly! They’re all waiting for you!”

Pu Zhu, desperately afraid he would send her away, urged him on without stopping.

Li Xuandu thought for a moment, then called over Luo Bao — the attendant who had followed him here — and ordered him to keep an eye on her, right here, and not let her run off. Once he had given his instructions, he hurried back to the field.