“When did he return to the residence?”
Hongyi thought it over and was about to answer, but seeing her master approaching, she stepped back and said nothing further.
“Greetings, my lord.” Ziqing offered a graceful, composed bow, and Hongyi and Shiliang followed suit with slight bows of their own.
“Rise, all of you. Hongyi, is this maidservant newly recruited?” Jun Beiyue asked flatly, only now taking notice of Shiliang, immediately recognizing at a glance that she wasn’t originally from the household.
Though Prince Yao’s residence wasn’t where he typically resided, its servants weren’t the sort that just anyone could join casually.
Hongyi was about to speak, but Ziqing beat her to it. “This is my personal maidservant from the Prime Minister’s household. I’m accustomed to her service, so I had Hongyi bring her along. This concubine has overstepped without my lord’s permission.”
Hongyi had originally arranged everything, granting Shiliang the status of a household maidservant—yet Ziqing had suddenly changed her mind at the last moment. This man noticed even the smallest details about the servants; how could he possibly be so easily deceived?
“What’s her name?” Jun Beiyue asked again.
“Shiliang,” Ziqing answered.
Jun Beiyue nodded and didn’t press further.
“My lord, this concubine will take her leave now. The Second Prince Consort and Miss Ouyang mentioned they’d be visiting again today—should they arrive, please do relay my apologies. This concubine is returning to the Prime Minister’s residence.” Ziqing spoke with a light cough, appearing frail and delicate.
Jun Beiyue hesitated briefly, then said flatly, “Let’s go. This Prince will escort you back.”
Escort her?
Well, that was fine—it would spare her the trouble of dealing with whoever might come to collect her corpse only to find her still alive, and having to make more trouble for her over it. With this man accompanying her, though she couldn’t exactly rest entirely at ease, at least she’d have one less thing to worry about!
“Then I’m in my lord’s debt,” she said politely, expressing her thanks—outwardly courteous and proper, but in truth, deliberately maintaining her distance…
Having Prince Yao personally escort her home was an entirely different matter altogether, and Ziqing genuinely couldn’t tell whether this man was simply putting on airs, or doing this deliberately for some purpose of his own.
By the time the carriage rolled to a gentle stop, the vermillion gates of the Prime Minister’s residence already stood wide open. Just as during the initial consort selection, the entire Han household stood assembled at the gate in respectful welcome—even Han Xi’er, who hadn’t appeared the last time, now stood respectfully behind the Prime Minister.
Such an elaborate welcome could only mean that someone from Prince Yao’s residence had sent word ahead in advance.
Shiliang lifted the carriage curtain, Hongyi hurried forward to help her down, and just as Ziqing was about to step out, Jun Beiyue stopped her, saying nothing, and simply stepped out of the carriage himself first.
What was there to compete over here? Could this possibly be some custom particular to Prince Yao’s household?
Before she’d even stepped out of the carriage, she could already hear the sound of respectful greetings from outside.
Ziqing straightened her clothing and rose, only to freeze the moment she poked her head out and took in the scene before her. There stood Jun Beiyue right in front of the carriage, extending his hand toward her, while behind him, the entire gathering at the Prime Minister’s gate knelt in a formal bow, not yet risen.
He was extending his hand—what did that mean?
“You’re this ill—come here, this Prince will carry you inside,” he said flatly, urging her along, his composed, cold eyes betraying not a trace of emotion.
Carry her?
Ziqing was about to decline, but Jun Beiyue suddenly pulled her down, drawing her directly against his chest and lifting her horizontally into his arms.
“My lord, in front of so many people…”
Before she could finish her anxious protest, he said coldly, “Don’t make me say it a third time. The judgment of the world and idle gossip mean nothing to this Prince.”
Ziqing turned her head away, wisely holding her tongue, thinking to herself that in this particular respect, she and Jun Beiyue were remarkably alike after all.
And so, carrying her horizontally in his arms, he strode boldly toward the gates of the Prime Minister’s residence, surrounded on all sides by envious onlookers, the household’s servants and guards all secretly marveling—who could have imagined the Second Miss would ever see a day like this?
Everyone knew that the position of Prince Yao’s Princess Consort was an honor beyond compare, and to receive Prince Yao’s favor was the dream of every woman in the realm!
And now, all of it was concentrated on her alone!
Prime Minister Han and Madam Han both stood frozen in stunned disbelief, too shocked even to feel angry, their expressions utterly incredulous. Han Xi’er, meanwhile, had her hands clenched so tightly that her whole body trembled with tension, nearly biting through her own lip, wishing she could shoot daggers straight from her eyes, wishing Ziqing dead a thousand times over.
She’d come so close—so close to leaping up and dragging Han Ziqing down by force. She couldn’t accept this, couldn’t bear it, so furious that steam nearly poured from her nostrils!
All of this should rightfully have been hers! Han Ziqing should have been the one crushed beneath her heel—yet here, now, it was she who had to kneel humbly on the ground, forced to watch helplessly as he walked past her, watch as Ziqing received favor above the entire realm!
Ziqing turned her head, taking in all those faces twisted with envy and hatred, smiling faintly, so meek and docile, so innocently pure, that it drove Han Xi’er to actually spring upright in fury—yet what good would that do? She glared furiously, yet dared not utter a single word.
Once Prince Yao had passed through the gate, Prime Minister Han finally snapped out of his shock, paying no mind to Han Xi’er, hurrying to follow after them—only to be yanked back after just a few steps by Han Xi’er herself.
“Father, I refuse to accept this! I refuse, I refuse, I absolutely refuse…”
Han Xi’er clung tightly to his sleeve, stamping her feet repeatedly, nearly stamping a hole clean through the ground!
“My lord, didn’t they say Prince Yao had been placed under house arrest? How is it that… what in the world is going on here? Has the Emperor truly permitted him to marry that ruined woman!” Madam Han demanded furiously.
Prime Minister Han had rushed to the Imperial Study immediately after court that morning, but the Emperor had refused to see him—even now, he had no idea what exactly had transpired.
“Father, that wretched woman Han Ziqing isn’t even chaste anymore—she has no right whatsoever to become Prince Yao’s consort! She’s stolen everything that should have been mine! I want it back! Give it back to me!”
Han Xi’er practically screamed, furious, yanking at Prime Minister Han’s sleeve, stamping and jumping, nearly driven mad with jealousy.
“Enough! Haven’t you humiliated yourself enough already?” Prime Minister Han shoved her hand away irritably, about to hurry after Jun Beiyue, when suddenly an announcement rang out from behind them: “The Second Prince Consort has arrived…”