Lady An Guo was furious beyond measure. Unable to break free immediately, she grabbed at the young lady beside her before the thing could fully bind her: “You little brat whose milk teeth haven’t even fallen out, how dare you use such an underhanded method to ambush me! What does it matter if you bind me? I’ll take her with me to the grave right now.”

As her arm began to extend, something suddenly thrust toward her from the front – a sword blade gleaming with cold green light, the very jade sword that had given her such trouble earlier.

Teng Yuyi had regained her mobility the moment Lady An Guo’s attention wavered. Her sudden attack wasn’t out of concern for the young lady’s safety but from her desire to see this demon die immediately.

She was the most grudge-holding person alive and had been eager to grind this thing to dust. Detecting it was about to pull another trick, how could she let it succeed?

However, before she could pierce the monster’s left claw, the rope suddenly tightened. Lady An Guo’s eyes bulged as she was lifted off the ground.

The barrier broke. The noble ladies’ faces drained of color in fright as chaos erupted in the courtyard. The rope made one circuit before its end shot back to the youth’s hand. He smiled as he bound the demon, casually tossing something to Teng Yuyi: “Give this medicine to the injured.”

Teng Yuyi barely caught the medicine bottle. She carefully studied the young man – he wore a white jade crown, a gold-decorated sword at his waist, purple formal robes, and blue-green shoes. According to current dynasty regulations, this was the attire of a Prince of the Blood.

Looking at his features – he was seventeen or eighteen, tall and graceful, handsome and elegant. If not for that wicked smile on his face, he would truly be a rare beauty.

Teng Yuyi had already recognized who he was – the Emperor’s own nephew, the eldest son of the Prince of Cheng and his wife, the pampered and famous royal clan member: Lin Chengyou.

Teng Yuyi glanced at him, then turned to pull her still-dazed aunt toward the room: “Thank you, Young Master.”

In her previous life, her only interaction with Lin Chengyou had been at the flower-viewing banquet at the Yuzhen Temple.

At that time, the betrothal between the Du and Teng families had already been canceled. Her father was still serving as a Military Inspector in Huainan, and Teng Yuyi had voluntarily stayed at their ancestral home in Chang’an’s Yanshou District to care for her ill aunt. As the day of her father’s retirement drew closer, the household frequently received letters from him in Huainan. Though she didn’t understand why, she secretly guessed it had to do with his impending return to the capital.

The cause of her cousin’s death was still unknown then. She attended to her aunt at her sickbed daily, and due to her depression, hadn’t gone out for leisure in a long time. That day when the steward brought the invitation, she initially didn’t want to go, but hearing the hostess was the Empress, she finally mustered her spirits to prepare.

As Teng Yuyi expected, the flower-viewing gathering was unprecedentedly lively, with noble ladies in full dress gathering in groups. It was said that not only was the Empress there, but even the Princess of Cheng, who usually traveled abroad, had come.

Teng Yuyi followed the noble ladies to pay respects to the Empress and Princess of Cheng when she suddenly heard someone whisper: “Look, that’s the Young Master of Cheng.”

Teng Yuyi looked in that direction and saw a handsome, elegant youth crossing the garden.

He wore light robes with arrow-narrow sleeves and carried a gleaming golden bow on his arm. He looked less like he was attending a banquet and more like he was about to leave for a hunt at any moment.

“Oh my, he doesn’t look like he’s here to view prospective brides – he looks like he’s here to play.”

“I heard he was going to play polo but was dragged here at the last minute by the Princess of Cheng.”

The banquet formally began. Teng Yuyi joined the ladies in playing zither, tasting tea, and viewing flowers. Having vaguely guessed the Empress’s deeper purpose in hosting this poetry gathering, she performed flawlessly. In casual conversation she was eloquent, in composing poetry she was innovative, and even when dealing with servants in quiet corners, she was more gentle and patient than usual.

After the poetry gathering, the Empress and Princess of Cheng specifically called Teng Yuyi forward. She quietly and gracefully answered many questions. As she left, she heard palace servants discussing: “I bet it will be General Teng’s young lady. Her looks are too eye-catching. Though the Young Master is proud, he’s at the age of awakening to such things. If he sees Miss Teng in person, he’s bound to be moved.”

“Yes, looking at the Princess’s manner, she seems very satisfied with the Teng family too. The young master isn’t afraid of anyone except his parents. With the Princess present, he won’t dare act up. If he tries to run away this time, the Princess will surely give him a good thrashing.”

Teng Yuyi found this quite novel – in all her life, she’d never heard of a princess who would personally beat her son. She wanted to study this Princess of Cheng sitting in the place of honor again, but the Empress had already ordered someone to take them to the garden to view autumn chrysanthemums.

Passing by Diecui Pavilion, Teng Yuyi glimpsed several richly dressed young gentlemen sitting inside. The bamboo curtains moved in the breeze, and dozens of gazes fell upon them from within.

Teng Yuyi walked past gracefully, keeping her eyes straight ahead. It was deep autumn, and a fine misty rain fell silently, leaving a fuzzy coolness on her face. That evening, back at the Teng residence, she recalled how the Empress and Princess of Cheng had pulled her aside to question her and felt confident in her understanding of the situation.

She felt no particular admiration for this Young Master of Cheng, but the court ladies’ subtle teasing in private most often centered around him. As she drank her tea and listened attentively, she thought that since everyone was so enamored with him, he must have some exceptional qualities.

Among the many royal clan members selecting brides, she, Teng Yuyi, couldn’t settle for less – if she were to choose, she would choose the best.

She calmly removed her hairpins and ornaments. The next day, when she inquired about the news, she learned that when the Empress and Princess showed him her portrait and sought his opinion, Lin Chengyou had only two merciless words: “Won’t marry.”

At that moment, Teng Yuyi had been rolling up her sleeves to mix white honey for perfume, and she accidentally spilled the fragrance cup.

Won’t marry? She might not have been willing to marry him anyway. It must have been her cousin’s death and her aunt’s illness disturbing her mind that made her foolish enough to participate in the royal clan’s bride selection.

She had already thought it through these past two days. They had never met, and she knew nothing of his temperament. Everything she had heard was just how he appeared in others’ eyes. What he was really like inside would only become clear with time. If he turned out to be difficult to get along with, it would cost her entire life.

She had lost her mother at age five, and her father was away campaigning north and south, not by her side. Over the years, she had grown used to controlling everything herself. Marriage was no trifling matter and naturally was no exception. She should be grateful Lin Chengyou wouldn’t marry her, saving her from future regret.

She threw back her head and laughed three times, immediately putting the matter out of her mind. The next day, she went to the Du residence, as usual, to attend to her aunt, and in the evening returned home to order camel hoof soup.

The fragrant soup paired with the Persian wine shop’s three-flavored wine was truly a meal fit for immortals.

After eating and drinking her fill, she went to bathe in the tub. She was wringing out her silk towel normally when those two words suddenly popped into her head: “Won’t marry.”

Hah! Her mood instantly soured. She glared as she threw the towel back into the water, perhaps a bit too forcefully – water splashed outside the tub.

Baizhi and Biluo slipped to the side and whispered: Today the young miss was angry about something – her cheeks had been puffed out all day.

Ridiculous! Her mood was excellent. She unhurriedly put on her clothes and returned to her room, but even after lying down in bed, there was still an extremely uncomfortable itching sensation on her back.

This itch wasn’t in the bone or on the skin – if she reached back to scratch it, she might not even find the spot, but if she ignored it, it would flare up occasionally. It all came down to one thing: discomfort, discomfort throughout her whole body.

This feeling of discomfort lasted for three whole days, long enough that she was contemplating how to get even when suddenly her aunt’s condition severely worsened.

She attended to the medicine day and night without rest, hoping her aunt’s condition would improve, but instead, it got worse and worse.

The doctors were all at their wits’ end, her uncle and cousin sick with worry. In her desperation, she sent a letter to her father, saying the previous doctors were all useless and begging him to quickly find a solution.

Since her mother’s death, she had deeply resented her father and never written to him. These consecutive requests were all for her aunt’s illness.

She didn’t want her aunt to die. Her mother had passed away early, but fortunately, her aunt and cousin had taken careful care of her. If her aunt were to go too, wouldn’t she become completely alone again?

Her father did rush back through the night, and that very night privately brought Imperial Physician Yu from the Imperial Dispensary to check her pulse, but it was still too late. Her aunt’s illness had affected her foundation, and after dragging on for so many days, medicine was now useless.

The night her aunt passed, her uncle and cousin wept bitterly before the coffin. She knelt woodenly, knowing crying was useless – she had tasted this at age five. Even if she cried her heart out, her mother had just lain silently in her coffin.

She remembered the night her mother died, standing in the memorial hall, beating the cold wooden boards with her tiny hands.

“Mother, Ah Yu will never make you angry again.”

“Mother, Mother get up and look at Ah Yu.”

The household was in chaos. Taking advantage of the servants’ inattention, she climbed onto the coffin. Her mother wore her finest clothes, with golden flowers adorning her hair, her quiet and beautiful face no different than usual.

She clumsily climbed inside, extending her chubby arms toward her mother: “Mother, hold Ah Yu while we sleep.”

Mother ignored her. She whimpered softly, pressing her head against her mother’s chest, clenching her tiny fists as she said: “Mother don’t be angry, Ah Yu will be good, Ah Yu will help Mother beat up the bad woman.”

She imagined her mother would respond when she woke up. Nestled in her mother’s embrace, she fell asleep without realizing it.

Perhaps her prayers had some effect – half-asleep, she fell into a warm chest, but when she opened her eyes in delight, she met her father’s haggard, stubble-covered face instead.

Father’s expression was grief-stricken, his eyes bloodshot, seeming to have aged ten years overnight.

She was dazed for a moment, then suddenly remembered the woman by her father’s side and burst into loud sobs: “I don’t want Father! Father is bad! I don’t want Father to hold me!”

Father’s tears fell as he dropped to his knees, holding her as he knelt before the coffin, remaining as silent as a mountain no matter how she cried and thrashed.

She sobbed loudly, and in that instant, finally realized her mother would never return. The taste of fear expanded infinitely, like a huge stone pressing on her chest. She kicked and beat her father, screaming: “Father is bad! You made Mother sick!”

Reaching this point in her memories, those feelings of desolation and resentment surged up like a tide. She reached numbly for her collar when suddenly someone called out by her ear: “Ah Yu, Ah Yu!”

Teng Yuyi came back to herself, looking at her aunt’s face that so resembled her mother’s, her heart filled with bitterness. She sobbed as she buried herself in her aunt’s embrace: “Aunt.”

Madam Du was startled for a moment before her expression softened. She raised her hand as if comforting a child, gently stroking the back of Teng Yuyi’s head: “Good child, what’s wrong? That monster must have frightened you badly. Don’t be afraid of anything while Aunt is here.”

They had just entered the room, with Lin Chengyou’s medicine bottle still in hand. Teng Yuyi looked around, quickly composing herself. She opened the bottle cap and poured out three pills: “Aunt, let’s take the medicine separately first.”

Madam Du was overjoyed, made a sound of agreement, and went to make arrangements.

Duan Fu lay in the corridor. As Teng Yuyi took the medicine out to save him, Director Dong’s housekeeper rushed over in two quick steps, saying with a dry laugh: “Lady Teng, this old servant spoke wrongly earlier and begs forgiveness. But my Second Young Lady urgently needs saving – please quickly give the medicine to this old servant.”

Teng Yuyi gave her a sideways glance. This master and servant pair had done plenty of despicable things – in her view, they weren’t innocent at all. But it was still a human life – openly letting someone die seemed somewhat unreasonable. So she smiled slightly and generously opened the bottle cap, but unexpectedly only one pill came out, and then it was empty.

With two injured people remaining, how could they split one pill? The housekeeper’s expression changed several times. That one over there was just an old servant – it wouldn’t matter if he died. Since there was only one pill, it should naturally be saved for her Second Young Lady. She hurriedly stepped forward to grab it: “This servant thanks you on Second Young Lady’s behalf!”

But Teng Yuyi shifted her body and ran toward Duan Fu with the medicine.

The housekeeper stared in disbelief. Watching Teng Yuyi dash away, she stamped her foot in fury, then descended the steps and turned to Lin Chengyou with tears in her eyes: “Young Master, my Second Young Lady’s life hangs by a thread. Lady Teng took your medicine but refuses to share it – isn’t this wasting your noble gesture?”

Lin Chengyou showed no reaction. The housekeeper swallowed hard. Her young lady urgently needed saving – she couldn’t just let the Teng girl arrange things as she pleased. Though she knew there was a demon there, she still forced herself to inch closer.

“Young Master, that medicine…”

Glancing inadvertently into the courtyard, she shuddered in fright. Lady An Guo’s face had become indescribably strange – its milky-white base now showed a gleaming luster, looking less like human skin and more like fine Xing kiln porcelain. Her eye sockets seemed painted with bright rouge, exuding a terrifying drunken air through their fierce glow.

Lady An Guo had a talisman paper stuck over her mouth and could only stare hatefully. She watched Lin Chengyou for a moment, then suddenly smiled silently.

With her smile, the courtyard curtains rose without wind as black clouds surged in from all directions.

The housekeeper’s legs went weak. The scene reminded one of peonies swaying in the wind – however beautiful that face had been before, it was now equally terrifying.

Just as she didn’t know what to do, something strange stirred beneath her feet. Looking down, she saw colorful flower stems emerging from the ground, their leaves rustling as if sniffing for something. Upon discovering the housekeeper, they surged up eagerly.

The housekeeper was scared out of her wits, stumbling backward, but the flower stems crawled up her legs, binding tighter the more she struggled.

“Young Master, s-save me!”

The mocking smile vanished from Lin Chengyou’s face as he leaped onto the roof beam. He silently surveyed the surroundings until the housekeeper was so frightened she nearly lost control of her bowels, then threw out a talisman: “Can you leave now?”

The talisman struck the courtyard, sending out waves of scorched stench. The flower stems couldn’t dodge in time – most were burned black, while the remaining ones learned their lesson and retreated into the ground together.

The housekeeper’s feet came free, and she scrambled back to the corridor: “Leave, this servant is leaving right now.”

She knew Lin Chengyou could have saved her earlier but had let her suffer because he found her annoying. People said this young master wasn’t one to provoke – tonight she’d learned that lesson well enough.

Author’s Notes:

1. This description references the “Old Tang History – Carriage and Clothing Chronicle” regarding regulations for princes and imperial sons’ attire. In the Tang Dynasty, purple was considered the most noble. Since the Wude period, only “princes and officials of third rank and above” could wear purple casual clothes. Since accompanying the emperor to Moon Lantern Pavilion was a formal activity, our Big A made his entrance wearing the most flamboyant purple, hahahahaha.

2. Camel hoof soup was a famous Tang Dynasty delicacy. Three-Spirit Wine was a fine wine brewed by Persians using three fruits: Amla, Belleric Myrobalan, and Chebulic Myrobalan, hence its name. (See “Supplement to the Tang National History”).