Cold wind mixed with snow pellets blew against the fur coat, rustling. Old Zhang tugged at his sheepskin hat, adjusting it again, thoroughly covering both ears. Hands tucked into his sleeves, he hunched his back and walked toward the relay station. Icicles of varying lengths hung from the eaves of the houses along both sides of the road. As soon as the snow pellets hit the ground, they turned into thin mud mixed with dust and rainwater. His leather boots made a squelching sound as he walked.
What miserable weather — huddling in a warm room with a pot of heated wine was the proper way to spend it. Checking the time, Old Zhang picked up his pace, and before long, arrived at the relay station. He lifted the heavy cotton curtain; a wave of warm air rushed out, melting the small ice crystals that had formed on his beard, water droplets falling and leaving damp patches on his face. Old Zhang brushed off the snow pellets from his clothes. “Well now, someone’s enjoying himself, eh?”
The relay officers and soldiers were gathered around the fire pit in the middle of the room, drinking hot wine. Recognizing Old Zhang’s voice, someone laughed. “Brother Zhang’s here! Come quick, warm up with a bowl of wine! This weather!”
Old Zhang didn’t stand on ceremony — clearly well-acquainted with everyone at the station — and strode over. Someone quickly made room for him with a smile. He downed a bowl of wine in one gulp, wiped his mouth, and said, “I got a late start today. Can’t afford to delay the prince’s business. Is it ready?”
The relay officer laughed. “Your prince really has strange habits — sending fresh cabbage a thousand li by relay horse, every single day! Been three years now and he still hasn’t tired of it!”
Old Zhang’s face immediately turned cold. He said in a low, sharp voice, “Watch your mouth!” His formerly amiable expression turned severe in an instant.
The officer’s heart lurched, and he hastily changed the subject, calling out loudly, “A-Si, go get Brother Zhang’s things ready!” He gave an obsequious laugh. “Had a bit too much to drink, talking nonsense, nonsense!”
Old Zhang sighed, pulled him aside, and said seriously in a low voice, “Trouble comes from careless words. Keep your men in line, don’t let loose talk happen — this lord…” His expression held both fear and a hint of sighing resignation.
The officer shrank back, sweat beading cold on his back despite the warmth of the fire pit.
Old Zhang inspected the basket A-Si handed over. Inside, wrapped in thick cotton padding, sat ten fresh, jade-green heads of cabbage. In the border city’s winter, fresh vegetables were scarce, yet these ten cabbages arrived without fail every single day. Accounting for the labor and effort of transport, each cabbage practically cost a hundred taels of silver.
He hoisted the basket onto his back, adjusted his hat and coat, gave a friendly nod, and headed back out, head lowered, into the cold wind.
Behind the Right Flank Army Marshal’s Residence in the border city, the back courtyard lay in desolate emptiness, not a trace of green in sight. Rockeries and bare-branched trees were coated in ice and snow, long icicles hanging down — a world carved entirely of ice and jade.
Turning through the corridor, an attendant carefully carried a tray covered with a silver pot, hurrying toward the side chamber. At the door, a waiting attendant lifted the curtain and took the tray inside.
Inside, several braziers were burning, the room warm as spring. Zili, dressed in a light padded robe, was reading through reports and letters that had arrived. Every month, his consort at the Prince Li estate in Feng City would send a letter home, its lines carefully recording the household’s recent affairs, offering formulaic greetings. Zili read it with a faint, wry smile, then picked up his brush and wrote a brief reply. He set aside Gu Tianlin’s letter and skimmed through the intelligence reports — this was the one hundred seventy-fourth message. Over three years, there had been dozens; in the past two months alone, they had suddenly increased sharply. He gazed wistfully out at the courtyard, the icicles on the trees glistening, a thread of tenderness stirring quietly in his heart, and murmured to himself, “Winter in Feng City was never this cold.”
The attendant carefully set the dishes from the tray onto the table, saying softly, “Your Highness, the meal is ready.”
Zili turned back, the faint smile still lingering at the corners of his mouth. “I wonder how today’s flavor turned out.” He walked over slowly and sat down.
The attendant ladled a small bowl of soup and carefully brought it to him. Zili looked at the color of the broth — clear as water. He took a sip; it was fresh, sweet, and delicious, but the moment it went down, it felt like swallowing a bowl of bitter medicine, churning uncomfortably in his stomach.
The attendant watched his expression carefully. The smile remained, but as always, it seemed frozen in place. The attendant sighed inwardly. For three years now, this dish of plain boiled cabbage soup had never once satisfied His Highness, yet it was never skipped a single day, leaving the entire kitchen staff in a constant flurry. They had offered a thousand pieces of gold to recruit famous chefs from all over to the border city, yet still couldn’t recreate that particular flavor. The untouched soup, sent back to the kitchen, had been tasted by a cook who couldn’t help but exclaim in wonder, “This is truly delicious!” And yet, however delicious, it never suited His Highness’s taste. They had changed chefs several times, always with the same result. Nor did His Highness ever grow angry — he simply had it made, day after day, without fail.
Today, Zili ladled a bowl for himself. The attendant startled and dropped to his knees at once. “This servant was careless — failing in his duty!”
“Get up. The flavor is very good. There’s no need to make this dish anymore,” Zili said flatly, his expression giving nothing away as to whether he was pleased or displeased.
The attendant’s heart was uneasy. Why would he suddenly declare himself tired of it? Not daring to ask further, he lowered his head and complied.
After the midday meal, Zili strode out into the courtyard, and the attendant hurriedly draped a fox-fur cloak over his shoulders.
The snow fell more heavily; before long, a layer had accumulated on his head and shoulders. He brushed it off casually, only for it to accumulate again shortly after. A faint, bitter smile crossed his face as he murmured, “Falling snow scatters chaotically beneath the eaves; I brush it off, only to be covered again.” He gazed at the ice-sealed, crystalline world before him, momentarily lost in thought. After a good while, catching sight from the corner of his eye of the attendant’s nose reddened from the cold, he said with a faint smile, “Let’s go back inside. I’ll rest for a bit.”
Closing his eyes, his thoughts scattered like chaotic snowflakes in his mind. His father, the King, likely wouldn’t last much longer. The great victory at Linnan City was like a dose of strong medicine, exciting his nerves — he’d even attended court for two days. But after the excitement, his illness had worsened doubly. Ten days ago, word came from the palace: “The King takes small bowls of medicinal broth, only liquid food.” Today’s report: “Spraying out the medicine, not a grain of rice touched.” His heart burned like fire and oil, yet he could only remain steady in the border city, not daring to act rashly. Three years of preparation, all waiting for that fatal decree to arrive.
Chancellor Gu had sent word that the south was secure. Yet over the past half year, there had been repeated delays in military provisions and supplies arriving on time. The Ministry of War cited the situation in the south as the reason, their language humble, but whenever pressed for urgency, they would say the supplies were already on the way, always running a month or so late. Chancellor Gu had said, “The Minister of War is ill at home; matters are mostly being handled by Vice Minister Cheng…” Zili understood clearly in his heart, closing his eyes and thinking that the return to Feng City wouldn’t be long now.
Feng City in winter still showed patches of green trees; the great mountains encircling it blocked the cold winds from the northeast, and the northwest wind arriving here had already softened its pace. The great procession of carriages and horses entered Feng City, and the envoy, smiling, approached Qingluo’s carriage and said gently, “His Majesty has already given orders — the Third Miss need not go to the palace to offer thanks after such a hard journey. Chancellor Li has been longing for his daughter like a madman; it’s best to return to the residence for the family reunion first.”
A’Luo, seated in the carriage, answered gently in thanks, “You’ve worked hard on this journey, sir. Qingluo offers her thanks.”
The procession of carriages split at a crossroads in the city. The Chancellor’s guards and household retainers escorted Qingluo’s carriage toward the Chancellor’s residence. A’Luo then called out, “Liu Ying!”
“What are your orders, Miss?” Liu Ying said, coming up to the carriage.
“We’re in Feng City now. Where’s the antidote?”
Liu Ying flushed red, pulling out a jade box from inside his robe and offering it with both hands. The carriage curtain lifted; Xiao Yu, looking half-resentful, half-annoyed, glanced at him and took the box, handing it to A’Luo with a low complaint. “That’s just like his lord for you. Serves him right to be teased.”
“Never mind, I wasn’t planning to run anyway. I’ll deal with them properly later!” A’Luo swallowed the medicine; a wave of warmth spread through her limbs, and her strength slowly returned.
“Miss, back at the residence, will the master…” Xiao Yu asked, a bit worried.
Back at the residence, how would Chancellor Li behave? A’Luo thought calmly — he’d either be moved to tears or all smiles and warmth. After all, wasn’t she the intended princess consort of this Pingnan Prince, formerly the young prince? How could he not treat her well? Her eyes glinted with an idea, and she leaned in to whisper her plan to Xiao Yu. Xiao Yu’s eyes gradually began to light up, excitement flushing her cheeks.
The carriage came to a slow stop in front of the Chancellor’s residence gate. A’Luo looked up as she got out, gazing at the tall plaque hanging above the residence gate, a faint smile crossing her face. A servant had already run inside to announce her arrival. Chancellor Li and the various wives had already been waiting in the main hall for some time.
Chancellor Li had come to sincerely admire this Third Miss of his household — after three years of running away, she had still managed to captivate the young prince, or rather, now the Pingnan Prince, completely infatuated. When the Anqing Prince returned to Feng City, he had immediately invited him over to his residence. The old prince, a lifelong military man, blunt by nature, had glared and cursed at him: “Quick, send me a portrait of your daughter so I can see what kind of woman has bewitched my worthless son so badly! Whatever you do, don’t tell me she looks like you!”
Chancellor Li had laughed helplessly. “My daughter has no portrait. She’s simply refined and clever, plays the qin beautifully, and is skilled at the flute, that’s all.”
The Anqing Prince was probably anxious as well. To his surprise, this third son turned out to suit his own preferences best of all — regardless of who ended up on the throne, whether the Crown Prince or the Fourth Prince, the Anqing Prince’s position would remain unshaken. With Qingluo marrying into that family, the Chancellor’s residence would be secure. Only the matter of the Seventh Madam becoming a nun was somewhat regrettable. But as long as Qingluo returned home and agreed to marry, it was no longer worth quibbling over.
Chancellor Li sat smiling in the hall, waiting for Qingluo. The assembled wives craned their necks as well, curious what kind of appearance this Third Miss, gone for three years, would present.
Just as they were pondering this, a commotion arose outside the hall. Guards escorted two slender figures approaching. Xiao Yu, supporting A’Luo, carefully stepped over the threshold. The moment they entered, Xiao Yu dropped to the ground, wailing loudly. “Master, punish me! The Madam was so devoted to Buddhism that she’s gone and become a nun! I failed to look after the Madam properly!”
A’Luo bowed low, her eyes reddening. “Father! Your unworthy daughter, indulging in idle pleasure, dragged Mother along, and in the end left her alone, cut off in solitary devotion by the lamp!”
Chancellor Li and the assembled wives stared, stunned. Was this Qingluo? Today, Qingluo had deliberately dressed in plain white, no hairpins or ornaments, no rouge or powder — simple and unadorned, yet unable to conceal her elegant bearing.
The two of them knelt before the hall, weeping bitterly; even the assembled wives couldn’t help but sigh and dab their eyes. With this one gone, there was no more jealousy or resentment left behind. Now that the Third Miss had become an important counterweight balancing the court’s factions, they could only feel sympathy for her, not dare offend her. Before Chancellor Li could even speak, they had already gathered around warmly, helping the two up, exchanging words of longing since their parting. The First Madam said with a smile, “Coming home is what matters. The Tang Garden has already been prepared — Xiao Yu, go take a look at it now.”
Only then did Chancellor Li come to his senses, smiling affectionately. “Coming home is good, coming home is good. Your mother — well, Yutang was always cold by nature. Becoming a nun to devote herself to Buddhism is only natural. No need to dwell on her further, lest it disturb her spiritual practice.”
His gaze shifted, landing on Liu Ying. Who was this stranger? Liu Ying smiled and cupped his hands in greeting. “This humble one is Liu Ying, formerly of the Black-Robed Cavalry of the prince’s household, now removed from that roster. By the prince’s order, I am now assigned under the Third Miss as her personal guard. I hope the Chancellor will look kindly upon me.”
Using a Black-Robed Cavalry death-soldier as Qingluo’s personal guard? It seemed the Pingnan Prince cared for her a great deal indeed. Chancellor Li laughed. “Then this precious daughter of mine will be in your care, Guard Liu. Have the residence’s guards prepare a room for you — go take a look, and if anything is missing, don’t hesitate to speak up. The residence is your home now too.”
Liu Ying smiled. “The prince has already given strict orders — I’m to guard the Third Miss closely at all times. The Chancellor is kind enough to take pity on this humble one — please allow me to stay in the Tang Garden as well.” As he finished, he gave Chancellor Li a subtle wink.
Chancellor Li understood at once, secretly praising the Pingnan Prince’s thoughtfulness — with his own man guarding her, where could Qingluo possibly run off to now? He agreed readily.
After Liu Ying and Xiao Yu had gone off toward the Tang Garden, Chancellor Li stroked his beard with a smile, saying to A’Luo, “A’Luo, my dear, you truly have transformed. I never expected you’d grow into such a beauty — as your father, I couldn’t be more pleased and relieved!”
A’Luo said, eyes reddened, “Your daughter was willful and indulgent, running away from home and worrying you, Father. Fortunately the Pingnan Prince took me in, and so I was able to return home safely.” Inwardly she thought with amusement — a loving father and a filial daughter, how hard could that be? I’m counting on eating and spending through your fortune yet.
Chancellor Li looked over A’Luo’s plain attire and sighed. “Out there, nothing compares to being at home. Look at you — how could my precious daughter from the Chancellor’s residence dress so shabbily! Wife, have the storehouse select some fine jewelry to be made for her, and the rest of you help arrange some new clothes for her.”
The First Madam smiled. “Of course. The Crown Princess and your elder sister have already asked after you several times, very eager to see you — they said you must go visit as soon as you’re back.”
A’Luo thought inwardly, that came quickly enough — not even time to catch her breath before having to make the rounds of social calls everywhere. On her face, though, she smiled warmly. “I haven’t seen my sister in years either — I’ve missed her dearly.”
Just then, a servant came in bearing an invitation. Chancellor Li opened it, glanced it over, and laughed. “A’Luo, go rest for now. Tomorrow, the Anqing Prince has invited you to a banquet at his residence.”
The Anqing Prince? Liu Jue’s father? A’Luo almost wanted to laugh — she’d truly become quite the prize; she hadn’t even had time to settle in before being rushed off to be put on display. She’d heard this Anqing Prince had quite a temper — having received the previous emperor’s Vermillion Dragon Token to protect the royal family, commanding the Right Flank Army, guarding the border city for decades, keeping the Kingdom of Qi from daring to invade — what kind of man would he be? Liu Jue had said his father was a man of deep devotion. Whatever kind of man he turned out to be, Liu Jue, just wait — once I’ve won over your father, you’ll regret ever having packed me off back home. A’Luo felt genuinely curious about meeting the Anqing Prince.
The Tang Garden hadn’t changed. That same begonia tree still stood proudly in the courtyard. The furnishings inside had been completely refreshed, with many valuable new items added — clearly reflecting Chancellor Li’s eagerness to please.
Liu Ying paused at the sight of the begonia tree in the small inner courtyard, glanced at A’Luo, and thought to himself, so that’s how it is. Without any concern for propriety, he moved himself into the east side chamber. Xiao Yu chased after him, scolding, “Since when does a grown man live in a woman’s courtyard? Have you no shame?”
Liu Ying grinned. “My lord has given strict orders — I’m not to leave the Third Miss’s side even for a step. With me guarding this courtyard, not even a fly will get in.”
A’Luo paid no mind at all to concerns about propriety between men and women. In the courtyard, she still lived in her old room, with Xiao Yu next door. The Seventh Madam’s room she left untouched. Liu Ying took what used to be Nanny Zhang’s room; two rooms still stood empty. She said with a smile, “Living in the same courtyard is great — tonight, let’s play cards!”
Liu Ying felt uneasy inside — what on earth was this “cards” business? Was the Third Miss still not done teasing him? His face turned bitter. Xiao Yu giggled, clapping her hands. “Great, it’s been so long, I’ve really missed it! We’ll start after dinner!” She shot Liu Ying a mischievous, teasing look.
A’Luo watched the two of them with a smile, then pushed open the door to her room and walked in. Only then did she notice a qin resting on the low table. Looking closely, she realized it was the very same qin she had used to play “Guangling Sanctuary” at the Crown Prince’s Eastern Palace banquet.
She couldn’t help but frown — who had sent this here? Qinglei? That didn’t seem likely. If Wang Yanhui had sent it, she would surely have some intent to curry favor or win her over — did she know that secret? Was this a hint? Or genuine flattery? If it were the former, she could simply deny everything — after all, whether she played well or poorly was entirely up to her. If it were the latter, it was even simpler — everything was up to Liu Jue anyway. But what if the Crown Prince had sent it? On second thought, she set the worry aside — the Crown Prince still relied heavily on the Liu family in many ways, he wouldn’t dare cause trouble now. A’Luo secretly resolved that tomorrow, she would make sure to properly meet Liu Jue’s father, the Anqing Prince.