Zhao Huanzhi fell hard this time, seeing stars before his eyes, lying there unable to get up for quite a while. With great difficulty he struggled to prop himself up, and when he looked closely, he saw that the person in the lamplight wore a prince’s round-collar narrow-sleeved robe with coiling dragons on both shoulders. Having just struck someone, his face actually bore an innocent expression.
The barbarian from Nanyuan! Sitting on the wealthy Jinling, besides being rich, he also had a reputation as a good man who offended no one. Since he usually paid no attention to outside affairs, he should just enjoy his feast properly. Why was he meddling in matters that had nothing to do with him? Zhao Huanzhi leaned against a camphor tree and barely managed to stand up, his shoulder aching and his chest having suffered heavy damage. Taking a breath, he coughed and panted.
“What is Prince Nanyuan doing?” he said, half-bent at the waist. “It’s a festival today—why is Your Highness striking people?”
The person standing by the railing brushed off his sleeves, his tone flat: “I am a feudal prince stationed outside the capital and haven’t seen much of the world, so I didn’t know there were such rules at the Son of Heaven’s feet. Even when ordinary families hold banquets, there’s no reason for guests to be presumptuous toward the host. Counselor Zhao, as a minister, showed disrespect to the Grand Princess—shouldn’t you die for that?”
When he said these words, his face showed no murderous intent, yet the killing atmosphere in his words was chilling. Zhao Huanzhi had originally wanted to argue—after all, losing face in front of a woman was quite disgraceful—but seeing his gradually cold eyes, he swallowed back the words that were about to burst forth.
Being presumptuous toward the Grand Princess—unfortunately, the level of presumption was too shallow to serve as grounds for action. If he made a fuss now with a third person intervening, the relationships would be too complicated to sort out, which wouldn’t benefit him either. Resentfully, he patted his robe and snorted coldly: “Your Highness’s words are biased. I merely chatted with Her Highness for a few sentences. It was Your Highness who appeared midway and used violence against me. How can you turn it around to blame me? You say I was presumptuous toward the Grand Princess—do you have evidence?”
If a person is determined to play rogue with you, never try to reason with them.
“Since that’s the case, Counselor Zhao says this prince used violence against you—where is your evidence?” He turned to glance at Wanwan. “Did Your Highness see me strike him?”
Wanwan shook her head repeatedly, “No, Counselor Zhao fell down by himself.”
The person on the corridor broke into a victorious smile, while the person below angrily flicked his sleeve and glared up at them.
Wanwan’s shock gradually settled, and only now did she relax. She had thought she would have to swallow this humiliation whether she wanted to or not, but unexpectedly Prince Nanyuan suddenly appeared. Though his arrival was unexpected, it was timely and reliable, resolving her urgent crisis.
Family traditions were indeed worth considering. Wanwan had always been tolerant, feeling that even if some family members behaved lawlessly, it didn’t mean everyone was bad. Now, seeing this kiln of bad bricks from the Zhao family, she immediately overturned all her previous thoughts. Empress Zhao was selfish and presumptuous, and this clan brother dared to lay hands on her after barely three sentences—such audacity was truly astounding.
“Stop glaring.” She calmed down and looked down at that person from her superior position. “Counselor Zhao, I will truthfully report your actions today to His Majesty. If His Majesty doesn’t punish you, I certainly cannot let it go. Go now. When you see old Empress Zhao, convey my words to her. When I have time, I will definitely invite her to visit Qianqing Palace, and then we can properly discuss whether things are round or square.”
Zhao Huanzhi was stunned for a moment. Suddenly hearing the sound of gongs and drums from the east, the noise was muddled and unclear, seeming to be more than just ceremonial music, with the occasional clatter of pots and bowls mixed in. He looked up woodenly, not knowing when the moon had lost a large chunk, its clear radiance dimming, the incomplete half merging into the thick night.
A lunar eclipse on the fifteenth of the eighth month—such a celestial phenomenon was rare, occurring perhaps once in several decades. The remaining half was gradually swallowed by a dark red color, suddenly plunging into boundless darkness. Only a dim halo remained in the sky, hanging there lonely and pitiful, with not even accompanying stars visible.
Zhao Huanzhi shivered, covered his chest, and fled. The lanterns in the Golden Pavilion still burned bright, appearing even more vivid in the pitch-black world.
Wanwan let out a long breath and bowed slightly to Prince Nanyuan. “Your Highness has traveled a long distance to the capital. The journey must have been arduous.”
Not mentioning the humiliation she had just suffered was her pride as a princess.
He understood it all and gently lifted the corners of his lips, his smile actually more brilliant than the moon’s last moment of light. He cupped his hands in return and bent down earnestly, “His Majesty has achieved great unification. As a feudal vassal, I should rightfully come to the capital to pay homage. I dare not speak of hardship.”
Then what? What should be said? The two stood face to face, smiling repeatedly at each other, both feeling somewhat awkward. Wanwan turned her body sideways, feeling lost in her heart. At this moment, Xiao Duo couldn’t spare attention for her, but unexpectedly it was Prince Nanyuan who saved her. Although her memories of him weren’t many, he wasn’t completely unfamiliar either. She secretly glanced at him—his profile was serene and elegant, without desires or demands, as if he were about to become a Buddha. She tilted her head thinking that to cultivate such a detached temperament amidst wealth and luxury, Jinling must be a magical place, different from this restless capital.
After a hero saves a beauty, they must eventually part ways. She waited for him to bid farewell, as she also needed to leave this place. However, he showed no intention of leaving. While she was stealing glances at him, he slowly turned his eyes back, and when their gazes met, he actually seemed somewhat shy, completely lacking the composed demeanor he had shown earlier.
“What is Your Highness looking at?”
Wanwan had thought he would make small talk and she was prepared to tell him about the capital’s customs and culture to repay his righteous rescue just now. But… looking at what? How should she answer this?
“Looking at…” She racked her brains with great difficulty, “Your Highness looks… somewhat familiar.”
His laughter carried a teasing note, “I also feel Your Highness looks familiar. We should have met somewhere.”
Now Wanwan fell silent. He was going to bring up old accounts! She hemmed and hawed for a long time before deciding to deny it: “Your Highness must be mistaken. The late Emperor’s Dragon Boat Festival banquet—the Empress Dowager didn’t have me attend, so there was no opportunity to make acquaintance then.”
One must admit that lying is an art, and people accustomed to honesty are simply not skilled at it. By saying this, she was practically confessing. He had never mentioned last year; she brought it up herself out of guilt, trying to avoid the topic, but unknowingly walked right into his trap.
He looked at her with a half-smile, golden rings glittering in his eyes. “Your Highness is right. Last year we didn’t meet face to face, but ten years ago, I had already remembered Your Highness.”
Wanwan knew he was referring to that incident when she mistakenly entered Qianqing Palace, but it had been ten years, and she was someone who paid no attention to anything except good food and fun. It was just a casual remark—how could she have even half an impression of it?
She pressed her lips together and smiled uncertainly, “Ten years ago… Your Highness has an excellent memory.”
“It may be unimportant to Your Highness, but to Liangshi it was a life-saving grace.” He lowered his head slightly, his face showing a dazed expression. “I was young and reckless then, mistakenly entering forbidden grounds. The Jinyiwei grabbed my arms and nearly twisted them off. If Your Highness hadn’t passed by, I probably would have been dragged to the Eastern Depot. Our Nanyuan has always been feared by the court. If the matter had escalated, I wouldn’t have been able to face my father either. So Your Highness’s great kindness has always been engraved in my heart. When I entered the palace for the banquet last year, I had wanted to visit Your Highness, but unfortunately Your Highness resided deep in the palace, and for an external minister like me to see you would be harder than ascending to heaven.”
Such old events seemed to be at the other end of heaven, yet he remembered them extraordinarily clearly. He could even describe what clothes she wore that day and how her hair was arranged.
The five-year-old Princess Hede didn’t have her current breathtaking beauty, but in the boy’s eyes, she was already a stunning presence. The emperor’s only beloved daughter would ride in a small palanquin from Fengtian Hall to Yude Palace, even though the distance wasn’t far. At that time she was playful, half-kneeling on the cushion, frightening the nannies and eunuchs on both sides who had to extend their hands while walking to protect her. He was being held by people, quite disheveled, when she passed by and saw him. Like a bandit chief, she barked: “Who goes there!”
The nannies just smiled apologetically, “My little master, never mind who it is, let’s hurry back. Consort Xu is still waiting for you.”
She shouted for them to stop and jumped down from the palanquin with a kick of her short legs.
She wore a honey-colored floral jacket with a treasure gourd-patterned skirt below. In terms of height, she didn’t even reach his waist. But she was domineering and wielded tremendous power: “Why are you holding this person? What wrong did he commit?”
The Jinyiwei cupped their hands in salute: “In response to Your Highness, he trespassed in Qianqing Palace. By law, he should be executed.”
The princess thought she had heard a joke: “I stroll through Qianqing Palace every day—are you going to kill me too? Release him and let him go find his father!”
The Jinyiwei looked at each other, but since the princess had spoken, no one dared to disobey, so they had to let the person go.
The princess left after completing her good deed, deeply hiding her identity and name, but this small act of kindness that she could no longer remember had made him think of her for so many years.
Wanwan felt very embarrassed, her face flushing red, at a loss: “I was young then. Your Highness must not take it seriously. Just now that Counselor Zhao… thank you for saving me, Your Highness. Otherwise I would have been in a difficult position, not knowing what to do.”
He smiled gently, “It was just a small effort. Even if I encountered injustice outside, I would intervene, let alone when it concerns Your Highness. It’s a pity I couldn’t do anything to him in the palace, otherwise that arm of his would have been broken long ago.”
He was a refined person, but when speaking of Zhao Huanzhi he put on a fierce expression, though even when angry he wasn’t particularly intimidating.
Wanwan’s lips drooped slightly, “I blame myself for carelessly believing others’ words, letting people fool me like an idiot…” Realizing she had misspoken, she quickly stopped and turned to ask him, “Why isn’t Your Highness at the banquet? Did you come here to admire flowers?”
Naturally, she didn’t know that her every move was in his sight. Although he could only observe from afar, protecting her safety was something he could still accomplish.
“I happened to be passing by,” he said vaguely, turning to gaze into the distance. That moon now had only a faint shadow remaining, set against the upturned eaves of the double-eaved hip roof. His tone carried a touch of melancholy as he said softly, “Let’s wait for the moon to come out. Wherever Your Highness goes, Liangshi will escort you.”
Wanwan’s heart stirred inexplicably. Under the lamplight, his outline was warm, his eyes serene and peaceful. If last year’s brief encounter had left her unable to distinguish clearly between him and the factory minister, then after this deepened impression, she felt these two were completely different people.
Xiao Duo was a person with sharp edges, every stroke and line distinct, never entangled. As for him, he had texture—clear and profound, yet without sharp points. When approaching him, she didn’t feel cold, nor did he make her feel afraid. He said he would escort her, not knowing when the lunar eclipse would end. Actually, for a lone man and woman to be in this pavilion together—if seen, it wouldn’t look very good, but it didn’t matter. Compared to that Counselor Zhao, Prince Nanyuan was already incredibly rare.
She walked to the railing and looked up at the clouds and moon in the sky. A slender silhouette was cast on the embrace pillar of the Golden Pavilion, her graceful neck standing alone and independent. He didn’t dare look directly at her, fearing he would desecrate her. He only dared to secretly gaze at that pillar, sketching her appearance in his mind, every inch and strand, pure and vivid.
They stood quietly like this for a long time until finally lantern light swayed toward them from the palace gates—presumably someone had come to fetch her. That tiny glimmer gradually grew larger, and when it was about to approach, he called out softly, “Your Highness.”
She looked back, “What instructions does Your Highness have?”
“I wouldn’t dare.” He seemed somewhat hesitant, the prayer beads in his hands making clicking sounds. “Counselor Zhao’s character is lacking—he’s truly not a good match. If Empress Rong’an strongly promotes this match, Your Highness must not agree under any circumstances.”
Such advice was beyond her expectations. Wanwan pressed her lips together and remained silent, only examining him with suspicion.
The light pouring from the lantern’s opening illuminated the face of the approaching person. Tonghuan held the lantern and reached the bottom of the steps, bowing: “His Majesty has asked about Your Highness. This servant has come to escort Your Highness to the banquet.”
There was no reason to stay. Wanwan agreed and nodded slightly to him, “Thank you, Your Highness. I have my own judgment in this matter.”
She took Tonghuan’s arm and stepped out of the Golden Pavilion. After walking for some distance, she could still feel his gaze following her. Strange—it was those very eyes that made her heart flutter inexplicably. She unconsciously gripped Tonghuan’s wrist, steadied her breathing, and gradually calmed down.