“The legitimate second grandson of Grand Secretary Rong, son of Princess Fuan—Rong Pu. Nineteen years old, three years your senior. ‘A man three years older brings golden bricks.’ Though it’s said his constitution is somewhat weak and he cannot practice martial arts, his reputation in poetry and literature is renowned throughout the capital. He won the top three imperial examinations but was ranked as Third Place Scholar due to his extraordinary beauty. Now he holds a noble position in the Hanlin Academy with fame known throughout the realm. Second on the Capital’s Young Masters Rankings. People call him: ‘Shattered jade among the stars, Heaven’s gift of deep sentiment.'”

A spring breeze passed, causing the portrait to flutter gently. The painted figure’s romantic eyes seemed to smile directly at the Crown Princess.

Tie Ci propped up her chin and smiled back at the painted figure, extending her hand.

Somehow, a young woman had appeared beside her—pointed chin, frost-pale complexion, dressed in plain white that palace servants weren’t permitted to wear. She stood there like a snow person, coldly and with such minimal presence that she could be mistaken for an ice sculpture.

But this ice sculpture, at the moment Tie Ci extended her hand, precisely offered a tray containing paper, brushes, and a booklet, with ink of perfect consistency, plus one orange-flavored and one green fruit-flavored soft candy on the side.

Tie Ci took up the brush, made a checkmark in the booklet, raised her chin, and said, “Continue.”

Tie Yan glanced at her little booklet and coughed. “Child—”

Tie Ci was carefully outlining the red checkmark, not looking up. “Mm?”

“You selected the first one?”

“Why wouldn’t I select him? The Rong family’s reputation for beauty can be traced back hundreds of years to that Prince Rong who was rumored to possess world-governing talent, with beauty exceeding even his renowned abilities. Though today’s Rong clan is merely a distant branch of the original family, thinking back to Prince Rong’s magnificence in his day, even if the current Rong clan could only inherit three or four-tenths of that legacy, it should barely be worthy of me.”

“What about this one? Wang Ran, son of the Minister of War, fifth on the Capital’s Young Masters Rankings. Both literary and martial, with heroic spirit—he can shoot three rabbits with one arrow. He’s long been admired by the capital’s young ladies.”

“Acceptable.”

“The legitimate eldest grandson of the Central Military Governor’s Office, eleventh on the Capital’s Young Masters Rankings. Literary, refined, and gentle-natured, called ‘Ten Li of Spring Breeze.’ The epitome of an elegant young gentleman, first place in matchmakers’ favorite candidate selection, first place in matchmakers’ collection rankings.”

“I’ll take him.”

“Dan Ye, son of the Western Rong Wolf Lord. True to his name—the red-robed Little Wolf King of the desert borderlands. Wild, sweet, and innocently straightforward.”

“Exciting enough.”

…

One portrait after another was revealed, with a row of red checkmarks in the little bookbook.

“Child.”

“Mm?”

“Well, though I understand your ambitions for a full harem, I must remind you that you are, after all, a woman. Favoring too many men… wouldn’t the loss be yours?”

“Your full harem hasn’t seemed to cause you any losses.” Tie Ci didn’t notice Tie Yan’s momentarily darkened expression as she held her brush and pondered whom to cross out. “At the very least, there should be enough for a week’s rotation, right? Otherwise, where’s the prestige?”

Who to cross out?

The sickly romantic? The three-rabbit archer? Ten Li of Spring Breeze? The wild and sweet one?

Looking at this list—civil officials, military generals, powerful feudal princes, neighboring princes—her father had gone to great lengths. She naturally had to accept them all with smiles. What was there to fear about being tired? Her master said he had Indian god oil and sildenafil.

She suddenly thought of something.

“Where’s the first place on the Capital’s Young Masters Rankings?” Tie Ci’s expression changed. “How can all the beauties under heaven not be gathered into my embrace?!”

“There’s no first place?”

“What do you mean?”

“The creator of the Capital’s Young Masters Rankings was reportedly a guest of the Rong family. Being able to rank their own young master second was said to be because Rong Pu once met someone and personally declared: ‘Arranged stones like jade, arranged pines like emerald—his beauty stands alone, unmatched in the world.’ But that person was unwilling to be listed on the rankings, so Rong Pu left the position vacant out of respect, not daring to rank above him.”

“Mm, very poetic, very legendary. It both adds luster to the rankings and builds Rong Pu’s reputation for broad-mindedness without jealousy or envy. Very thoughtful.” Tie Ci commented.

Tie Yan smiled slightly.

An ordinary daughter would surely yearn for that legendary first place at this moment. Only his Ci’er always maintained far-reaching vision, viewing matters like a blade cutting through wood.

But what young woman doesn’t harbor romantic feelings? Yet she seemed to like them all while caring for none, viewing handsome men as wooden horses.

If she truly harbored no romantic feelings, then perhaps…

Tie Yan’s worried gaze swept over the courtyard full of beautiful maidservants, wondering if perhaps playing the Crown Princess in reverse gender roles for so long had caused what was called… gender identity disorder?

The gender-identity-disordered Tie Ci licked her brush and casually pinched Dan Shuang’s perky buttocks. Dan Shuang, eyes straight ahead, slapped away her wandering hand.

Tie Ci finally made up her mind and moved her brush toward the wild and sweet Little Wolf King.

Before the circle could fall, suddenly came a shout: “Report!”

Tie Ci’s hand shook, and a large drop of ink fell, blotting out Rong Pu’s name.

“What’s all the fuss about!”

“Your Majesty, Your Highness—urgent express report from Western Rong!”

Tie Yan frowned and took the frost-stained secret memorial. After reading it briefly, his expression changed dramatically.

Tie Ci leaned back.

Well, before she could “return the bright pearl with tearful eyes,” they had already achieved “separation brings joy to both parties”?

Beside her, Dan Shuang coldly stared at the paper. Though facing its back, she could still see the polite greetings and courteous refusal, followed by different handwriting but particularly ink-heavy large characters:

“Western Rong wolves refuse to marry useless puppets!”

Bold strokes with grand flourishes, the final stroke like a sword thrust toward one’s face.

But Dan Shuang only wanted to skin the wolf, extract its tendons, dismember its legs, and steam, boil, fry, roast, braise, and deep-fry it in sequence.

If Tie Ci knew her current thoughts, she would probably suggest not forgetting Beijing-style pork kidneys with money stomach—good for her and good for me too.

Tie Yan crumpled the letter, took a breath, turned to her with a smile: “I’ve always noticed you don’t like dark-skinned men. How about we skip that Dan Ye?”

“Mm, let’s skip him.”

Before the words finished, another flurry of footsteps brought a slightly panicked messenger with another memorial.

After reading it, Tie Yan’s face turned iron-blue.

Tie Ci tapped the table. “Who is it this time?”

“The three-rabbit archer broke his leg while hunting,” Tie Yan smiled unpleasantly. “If he ends up lame, he won’t be worthy of our Crown Princess. This one… let’s forget it too?”

“Couldn’t agree more.” Tie Ci turned toward the window and shouted, “Chi Xue! You have the day off—go out and stroll. Sit in some teahouses. You know what to chat about, right!”

“I know!” someone responded from outside the window, voice clear as an oriole. “I’ll say Wang Ran broke his third leg while hunting! Come on, sisters, let’s go have fun!”

“Coming, coming! Though I’d say breaking a leg isn’t remarkable enough—I suggest adding that his face was ruined too.”

“The hunting background isn’t attractive enough either—how about saying he was at a brothel?”

“Fighting over women at a brothel out of jealousy?”

“Brilliant!”

Dan Shuang yanked open the window and said coldly: “And Dan Ye. Within three days, I want them to be utterly discredited and stinking throughout the capital.”

“What? Three days needed? Three hours would be an insult to us!”

…

Most of the beautiful maidservants left, but the floors in front of Ruixiang Hall still thundered with footsteps as urgent reports and memorials were delivered one after another. Tie Yan’s expression grew increasingly ugly.

Tie Ci continued smiling, focusing solely on grinding ink, dipping her brush fully, and listening repeatedly to those varied and creative marriage rejection reasons.

Tie Yan no longer dared look at her. Even for an ordinary woman, one broken engagement would be an unbearable lifetime burden. Though Tie Ci held noble status, she was ultimately still a woman at heart. These repeated rejections trampled not only the imperial family’s dignity but also her maiden pride.

This was humiliation of the Crown Princess.

This was the Empress Dowager making her move, and her warning to the Iron father and daughter.

A warning to all who would dare struggle beyond her grasp.

Just mayflies in a three-inch glass bowl—did they think they could leap to the blue sky and transform into true dragons?

As a puppet emperor, Tie Yan had witnessed countless expressionless refusals and smiling betrayals throughout his life, yet at this moment felt particularly heartbroken for his daughter.

Thinking further that perhaps her entire future would inevitably face such things as his had, he wondered if his original choice had been wrong.

Memorials were delivered one by one. After waiting to ensure no fresh material remained, Tie Ci slowly took up her brush.

Over each red checkmark, she drew a straight line from left to right—long, straight, and sharp.

A large X.

After crossing out the last one and seeing that blob of ink, Tie Ci realized there seemed to be one missing rejection letter.

“Where’s Rong Pu’s rejection letter?”

Tie Yan searched through them and found there really wasn’t one.

This delighted him, but Tie Ci shook her head and set down her brush.

“The Rong family leads the civil officials with enormous influence—currently the only family that can contend with the Xiao family. With the Rong family’s ability to gather information, they surely already know the others’ attitudes. So if Rong Pu doesn’t reject the engagement, he’s planning to become my male empress?”

Tie Yan frowned.

“The Rong family is extraordinary, and they’re related by marriage to the military Di family. This is a good opportunity to borrow influence.”

“The Rong family has always kept a low profile, suddenly jumping out to directly confront the Xiao family. This isn’t a good omen.” Tie Ci picked up her brush, voice calm. “And I, the dignified Crown Princess—all of Great Qian belongs to me. Why should I become a chess piece in the power struggle between two families?”

Rich ink, soft brush—the stroke fell quietly yet decisively.

Another large X.

Tie Yan stared at that neat row of X’s, feeling dizzy. Hearing another series of reports from outside saying that Commander Xiao had entered the palace today to see the Empress Dowager and might come pay respects to Her Highness the Crown Princess shortly.

This posturing was far too aggressive.

Tie Ci ordered the portraits collected. A dumpling-faced little eunuch entered carrying a huge basket, quickly sweeping all those portraits into it in moments. Tie Yan watched the papers flash rapidly before his eyes and suddenly pressed his hand down on several sheets.

He hung those few sheets on the wall and said urgently: “Child, look at these few.”

Tie Ci looked up. After a long moment, she sighed.

“Father, even when desperate, you can’t seek medical help this randomly.”

Did he grab the wrong Zhong Kui paintings from the Ghost Festival?

And they were photocopies—grabbing several at once, each with only minor differences. Like this one had a beard drawn on, that one had a mole dotted on.

Playing spot-the-difference?

Tie Ci clicked her tongue and searched for quite a while, finally feeling that there was no most identical, only more identical. If forced to find differences, she could only say one was exceptionally ugly in a distinctive way.

Saying they looked like Zhong Kui—even Zhong Kui would cry at that comparison.

“Sons of Prince Da’an of Liaodong… Choose the best among them.” Tie Yan said. “What do you think? Want to select one? They’re far from the capital—they couldn’t refuse so quickly even if they wanted to. By the time their rejection documents reach the capital, I’ll have your dowry prepared.”

“You know they’re far from the capital? Then do you know what’s recognized as first place on the Capital’s Nonsense Rankings?”

“What?”

“Liaodong belongs to Great Qian.”

“…What’s second place?”

“Prince Liaodong is loyally devoted to the court.”

“…Third place?”

“Prince Liaodong’s eighteen sons are each heroically exceptional and incomparably handsome.”

“…These troublemaking commoners—who’s actually seen Prince Liaodong and his sons? Or personally witnessed Liaodong rebel against Great Qian? They’re the ones who should top the Nonsense Rankings!”

“The dynasty has three great feudal regions: Liaodong, Longxi, and Yannan. Liaodong is largest and most distant, with treacherous terrain serving as our Great Qian’s northern barrier. The key issue is the dangerous and difficult roads—you have to cross Lingshi Pass, and plenty of imperial messengers have gone missing. The latest rumor is they became wild men in the Hundred Thousand Forest. Court decrees are hard to implement, so imperial authority can’t reach over the Murong family’s heads. But if the court can’t constrain Liaodong, it’s equally difficult for Liaodong to strike into the interior. Better to maintain good relations and peaceful coexistence. Besides, you won’t actually marry there, so whether Liaodong is loyal, obedient, or whether the eighteen sons are ugly doesn’t matter. Just bearing an empty title. Surely Prince Liaodong won’t mind sending out one-eighteenth to play diplomatic games with our Crown Princess.” Tie Yan looked at those portraits with emotion. “Child, look—the Murong family also has eighteen sons. This is fate!”

Tie Ci rubbed her chin.

One-eighteenth of Zhong Kui still wouldn’t be handsome.

The key issue was she didn’t believe Prince Liaodong would honestly stay put in Liaodong. Though market rumors were mostly baseless, there’s no smoke without fire. If common people knew Liaodong was amassing troops and growing restless, how could the court’s noble officials pin the dynasty’s safety on trusting an outsider prince’s character?

Opening a gap for Liaodong—what about future demon invasions of the interior?

But looking up to see her father-emperor’s earnest expression, she found herself unable to say anything.

Outside the hall, someone reported that Commander Xiao had come to pay respects to Her Highness.

Tie Ci rose to meet her convenient uncle and prospective fiancé, walking while casually picking up a dart from the table. As she crossed the threshold, she casually flung it backward.

With a sharp “thunk,” the dart struck decisively and accurately into a portrait, right between the eyebrows. Now the portrait no longer resembled Zhong Kui—it looked like an ugly version of Erlang Shen.

“That one!” Tie Ci’s voice carried from afar.

Tie Yan looked up.

The ugliest one.

A breeze passed, lifting the portrait’s corner where there was a small name in light ink, swaying and flickering in the wind as if luminous.

Murong Yi.

Author’s Note:

Yesterday I was criticized by a friend.

They said I take people’s money but don’t do people’s work.

After all these years of receiving tips, I’ve never thanked anyone in author’s notes. Truly arrogant.

I’ve always been a modest and obedient person, found it reasonable, but thanking everyone individually would be too much typing, so I’ll thank the large donors first—though I’ll probably be called materialistic again, but author’s notes really don’t have enough characters.

Thanks to my little wife for supporting hubby’s reputation—hubby will favor you tonight.

Thanks to my second praise-giver, Bone, follower, longtime fan—everything goes without saying.

Thanks to Long Ge Lan Chu Tan Zhi Wei, though are you really not someone’s alternate account?

Thanks to my confidant at Xiaoxiang, Feng Liu.

Thanks to A Li Fu Cheng—in the blink of an eye, we’ve known each other for quite a while.

Thanks to all familiar and unfamiliar names on the donation list—your giving represents the truest intentions. I’ve received them.

Finally, I must say: act within your means, don’t advocate large donations—one flower is truly wonderful enough.

Thank you, masters. Cuihua, bring out Iron Eighteen—