When Li Chengyu departed, he was on his way to the relay station to find Sun Ji. But Sun Ji had already come himself in a carriage and was waiting for him in the west courtyard. He hastily ushered the Crown Prince into an inner chamber, dismissed all others, and then said that he had received word that very morning that the Crown Prince had decided the previous night to delay his return to the capital, and asked why.

Li Chengyu did not want anyone to know the real reason, so he evaded vaguely, saying only that there was unfinished business.

The Crown Prince’s attendant Sun Ji was by nature a cautious man in ordinary life. He recalled that at the banquet the previous night, the Crown Prince had plainly said he would set out together with Prince Qin and the others — yet upon returning to his quarters, he had suddenly decided to delay his return to the capital, at a time when the little prince had still been perfectly fine.

He sensed something was wrong, and had made a point of coming over first thing that morning to ask the attendants serving the Crown Prince about his movements. He learned that the Crown Prince had gone first thing to visit the young woman who had fallen into the water the day before while saving the little prince.

Sun Ji immediately inquired further about the young woman’s identity, and upon learning it, broke out in a cold sweat all over. Now that he had found the Crown Prince in person and received nothing but evasions, he fell to his knees with a thud. “Your Highness! If it became known that Your Highness, while abroad on official duty, became entangled with a woman — that you delayed your return to the capital for her sake — and that this woman is the granddaughter of Pu Youzhi — should someone move to use this against you, how would Your Highness defend yourself? This absolutely cannot be!”

Li Chengyu saw there was no concealing it and immediately told him to set his mind at ease, saying that he had already changed his thinking and was in fact just about to go and find him to rearrange the travel plans, to return to the capital together with his imperial uncle and the Western Di envoy’s party.

The Crown Prince was generally not without method in his conduct, but had one weakness — he was vain about appearances. Sun Ji had been speaking urgently just now and afterward felt his tone had been somewhat presumptuous. He had originally worried the Crown Prince would take offense; seeing not only that he accepted the advice readily but that he had already changed his mind on his own, Sun Ji realized he had alarmed himself for nothing.

Only then did Sun Ji let out a breath of relief, his heart considerably reassured.

That evening, Li Xuandu and the Crown Prince dined together with the Western Di envoy at the relay station. Afterward, the uncle and nephew rode back to the Commander’s Residence. Though He Xi Prefectural City had no prohibition against riding within the city walls, the streets at this hour were full of people hurrying home for the night, and as they neared the part of the city where the Commander’s Residence was situated, the streets grew even more lively. Their party had already slowed to a walk. Without realizing it, they were nearly before the gates of the Commander’s Residence.

Li Xuandu observed strict ruler-subject propriety, and throughout the journey had kept his horse a length behind the Crown Prince’s at all times. The Crown Prince now took the initiative to bring his horse alongside, saying that he had taken advantage of the little prince’s rest time and had managed to wrap up all his remaining business that day — and that he would definitely depart together with them and the envoy’s party when the time came to return to the capital.

“We have been away from the capital for some time now, and I imagine the spring must be deep there by now. I won’t pretend otherwise to my imperial uncle — I am longing to go home, and could almost wish for wings so I might fly back.”

Li Xuandu inclined his head. “So much the better. Let the little prince rest another day; if he seems well enough, they should be able to set out the day after tomorrow.”

Li Chengyu agreed, then added, “My imperial uncle has not returned to the capital in many years. Now that such a rare opportunity has presented itself, you must stay for a good while. If when we arrive it could be like our childhood days again — hunting together at the Imperial Gardens — would that not be a pleasure?”

Li Xuandu smiled. “The Crown Prince is too kind. I feel the same.”

As they talked casually, out of the corner of his eye Li Xuandu caught a glimpse of a vaguely familiar silhouette, and his gaze paused slightly before turning to look directly.

A tall, strapping young man dressed in grey clothing with a knife at his belt stood at the intersection leading to the Commander’s Residence, looking toward the main gate ahead, seeming about to go over and yet hesitating.

Li Xuandu recognized him at once — this was the disreputable young man who had met that Pu girl in a secret nighttime rendezvous at the Fulu relay station. From the look of him, standing there for what must have been quite some time, the likelihood was high that he had come to find the Pu girl.

Li Xuandu could not help casting a glance at his nephew riding beside him — he was seated on his horse, entirely oblivious.

Ever since he had discovered that the Pu girl harbored ill intentions, and that after this young man she had also set her hooks into his nephew Li Chengyu, he had found himself in something of a difficult position.

The grievances between elder and younger generations in the imperial family were one thing; the affection between a senior and younger members of later generations was another matter entirely.

Li Xuandu had never once expected his Crown Prince nephew to still regard him now the way he had in former times. People change — especially those of their kind, born into an emperor’s household — and that included himself. Compared to the person he had once been, he too was long since unrecognizable. Yet whatever his own feelings on the matter might be, by some instinct he still genuinely hoped that this nephew who had trailed at his heels since childhood would be well.

The previous night, when the Crown Prince had sent word late at night to say he was delaying his return to the capital, Li Xuandu had guessed that the Crown Prince must have been bewitched by the Pu girl.

At the time he had already been deliberating: should he find a suitable occasion to give the Crown Prince a word of warning? Knowing and doing nothing was one thing — but knowing and watching the Crown Prince stumble headlong into a spell of beauty without even being aware of it, that was something he could not easily make peace with.

Now seeing this young man appear again on his way to find her, Li Xuandu felt a faint irritation stir within him.

This Pu girl — just what was she after?

Both he and Li Chengyu were traveling incognito, without ceremonial escort, though several of the Eastern Palace’s guards were riding ahead, one of whom galloped along the side of the road, whose duty it was to clear pedestrians from the path.

The purpose was twofold: to prevent obstruction, and to guard against any unexpected incident. He Xi had just weathered a period of unrest, and though the suppression had been swift enough to prevent major disturbance, the necessary vigilance remained — after all, the little prince’s near-assassination outside the frontier pass was a ready example. For someone of the Crown Prince’s status, not even the slightest mishap could be permitted.

The guard on horseback reached the position of the tall young man ahead, cracked his whip as a signal to clear the road, and passersby scattered in all directions. Only this young man, perhaps lost in thought, did not hear the sound. He remained standing motionless as before, and the guard raised the whip and struck — a sharp crack, the lash falling across the young man’s back, tearing through the fabric of his clothing and leaving a welt.

The young man whipped his head around, fury written across his face. Whether by instinct or reflex, his hand also went straight to the hilt of the knife at his waist as if to draw.

The guard started, and shouted, “Who is this insolent wretch?!”

Li Xuandu’s gaze swept over and landed on the young man’s hand gripping the knife hilt. His expression was cool and hard.

The young man immediately saw Li Xuandu on horseback as well, and stiffened. The hand resting on the knife hilt slowly relaxed and let go.

Yang Hong, who had been following at the rear, saw the disturbance ahead and assumed it must be a real assassin. He rushed forward with men in tow, and upon seeing that it was Cui Xuan, nearly jumped out of his skin. He dismounted and ran over, harshly berating Cui Xuan. “How reckless of you! Do you know who has just arrived?! It is the Crown Prince and Prince Qin! Get down on your knees this instant!” He then hurried back and reported that this was one of his own junior officers named Cui Xuan, who was off duty today, and how he had come to blunder into the procession was a mystery — he begged forgiveness for the offense.

Li Chengyu cast a casual glance at the tall young man slowly kneeling at the roadside with his head bowed.

He Xi people were tough and bold, and men wearing swords and knives along the roads were not uncommon; he paid it little mind, and turned to Li Xuandu with a smile. “What does my imperial uncle think should be done with him?”

Li Xuandu withdrew his gaze from the young man and said, “The Crown Prince shall decide.”

Li Chengyu said, “Since my imperial uncle says so, on account of Commander Yang, let the offense of his blundering into our path be pardoned.” He continued riding forward.

Yang Hong stood at the roadside, waiting for that mounted party to pass by before going to order Cui Xuan to rise. He let out a sigh and said in a low voice, “One was the Crown Prince, the other Prince Qin. You are lucky to be alive today — a good thing you did not draw your blade. Had you drawn that blade, ten heads would not have been enough! Keep up this recklessness and you won’t even know how you’ll end up dying!”

Cui Xuan rose slowly from the ground, his gaze fixed on the retreating backs of the mounted figures ahead. He stood perfectly still.

“By the way, what did you come here for?” Yang Hong asked.

Cui Xuan was silent for a moment, then shook his head and said it was nothing — he had only been passing by. He thanked Yang Hong, turned, and quietly went on his way.

Pu Zhu had kept to her quarters the entire day, not setting foot outside once. She was completely unaware of the minor incident that had taken place outside the gates of the Commander’s Residence. She learned that Huaiwei’s stomach had recovered, that Li Xuandu planned to rest one more day tomorrow, and that they would set out the day after.

The night passed. The following afternoon, Pu Zhu had thought things through for another full day; in the evening she went to the west courtyard to visit the little prince.

Li Xuandu was not there. Ye Xiao was outside; seeing her approach, he seemed somewhat reluctant at first.

Pu Zhu pretended to know nothing and smiled. “I heard the little prince is leaving tomorrow. I’ve come to see him and say goodbye.”

From inside came a crashing sound, as if a bowl or dish had been hurled to the ground. Two maidservants hurried out with stricken expressions. “The little prince will not eat anything, and has been smashing things as well.”

Ye Xiao’s face showed a pained, troubled look. He hesitated, then turned to Pu Zhu. “The little prince is causing a scene — he won’t eat his supper. Would the young lady be willing to go in and try to talk him round?”

Pu Zhu stepped over the mess strewn across the threshold and walked in. Huaiwei’s eyes were red, and he was lying facedown on the bed wiping tears; seeing her enter, he let out a wail of grievance and burst fully into sobs, then launched into a stream of complaints against Li Xuandu — saying he had been forbidden from coming to find her, that he had been shut in this room all day. Normally Li Xuandu followed him everywhere he went, but today he had gone even further and not allowed him to go anywhere at all. And to top it all off, supper was congee again, and there was absolutely no way he would eat it. Plus, now he did not want to go to the capital anymore — he wanted to go home. And she should come home with him! He would take her to meet his mother! His mother was very beautiful — the most beautiful woman in Yinyue City — and since she was also so beautiful, his mother would certainly like her! She could be his princess consort and keep him company and play! He also had a little lamb, and no one could touch it, but he would let her pet it, and they could hold it between them and sleep together…

Pu Zhu did not know whether to laugh or cry, and for a moment was not quite sure how to respond.

As he talked on, he suddenly seemed to remember something, abruptly fell silent, glanced toward the door behind her, then brought his mouth close to her ear and said in a hushed voice, “You must be very careful — I am only telling you this in secret, and it cannot be overheard by him. He threatens to kill people at the drop of a hat. He said if I mention having you as my princess consort again, he will kill you.”

Pu Zhu paused, then said, “He was joking — just teasing you. But since he is unhappy about it, you must not say such things anymore from now on.”

“But I want you to play with me!”

“You do not need to be my princess consort for that — if we are good friends, I can still play with you!”

Huaiwei blinked a few times, then pouted. “Even so, I still won’t go with him to the capital tomorrow! He threw away the flower cakes you gave me!”

A thought came to Pu Zhu, and she said, “The flower cakes I made were not particularly tasty. He threw them away, so let him. Forget about it. When you get to the capital, the imperial kitchen’s head chef — they make flower cakes that are truly exquisite. And not just flower cakes — they can make all manner of other delicious things: crystal rice, longan flour, butter whey drink, golden cream curd, prawn skewers, jade dew rounds, roast stuffed goose… all kinds of things you have never tasted before. Don’t you want to try them?”

Huaiwei gave a loud gulp, swallowing a mouthful of saliva. “What is roast stuffed goose?”

“Roast stuffed goose is this: you take a plump goose six months old — not too large, as large flesh goes tough; not too small, as small flesh dissolves too quickly — and stuff its belly with meat and fragrant rice, seasoning it with five-spice blends. Then you take a young milk-fed lamb, and tuck the goose inside the lamb’s belly. You roast the whole thing over fire until the lamb’s exterior turns a golden, glistening brown, the hot fat pressing inward into the goose flesh — and then you extract the goose from the lamb’s belly, and the flavor is beyond compare. I tasted it as a child at home and can still remember that taste to this day…”

Poor Huaiwei — Li Xuandu had allowed him nothing but plain congee for two days now, and his belly had been perpetually low on oil. He had been feeling hungry all the while, and besides, he had refused his meal in a fit of pique just now. Hearing her describe it in such vivid, lifelike detail, his eyes glowed with a green light, his mouth running with saliva. He gulped again, licked his lips, hesitated a moment, and at last grudgingly said, “All right, I’ll go and see for myself then. You come with me!”

Pu Zhu smiled gently. “You go first…”

Seeing Huaiwei on the verge of shaking his head again, she hurried on. “Listen to what I am saying. You go first and get familiar with the place for me; then I will come, and by that time you can take me all around to see things. I did live in the capital when I was small, but so many years have passed that every memory of the old scenery there has completely vanished. I will have to rely on you as my guide.”

Huaiwei at last agreed.

Pu Zhu called for a maidservant to bring supper again, stirred two spoonfuls of honey into the congee, lifted a spoonful to his lips, and kept coaxing him. “It is entirely my fault — I let you eat too much that night and you upset your stomach. For today you can still only have congee; I am sorry to make you suffer through it. But if you do not eat, you will not recover, and your Fourth Brother will know — and then not only will he blame me again, he will even less permit you to come and find me.”

Huaiwei thought about it and realized she was right. A man of his caliber absolutely could not let her suffer on his account. He relented and reluctantly opened his mouth for one bite, then found himself growing hungrier with each bite, and finally took the bowl into his own hands to eat.

When it came to coaxing people — whether adults, such as her husband Li Chengyu from her previous life, or the little prince before her now — it all seemed to come easily and without difficulty.

Pu Zhu breathed a quiet sigh of relief, watching Huaiwei finish his bowl of congee. Knowing he certainly was not full yet, she rose to reach for his bowl and refill it — when she gave a start.

Someone was standing in the doorway: Li Xuandu. From the look of the black cape still draped over his shoulders, he appeared to have just returned from outside. His eyes were directed toward her. She had no way of knowing how long he had been standing there in the doorway.

Though the purpose of this visit, besides seeing the little prince, was also for the person standing before her — finding herself caught off-guard like this, particularly knowing that he had certainly overheard what she had just said about him at the end, was unavoidably a little awkward.

Still, this faint awkwardness vanished quickly.

He had already harbored thoughts of killing her — and she, for the sake of coaxing his little companion into eating a meal, had said one or two mild, inconsequential things about him. What did it amount to?

As for her own plan to eventually deal with him — that was a separate matter entirely, not to be raised at present.

Pu Zhu quickly composed herself, and with an expression of perfect unconcern, offered him a greeting. “Your Highness, I heard the little prince is setting out tomorrow morning. His stomach trouble was entirely my fault, and I have felt terrible about it. So just now I came over to look in on the little prince and see him off.”

Li Xuandu withdrew his cool gaze from her and shifted it to the little prince, who was sitting holding his bowl and staring blankly at him. He said nothing, turned, and left.

He walked toward a nearby room that served as a reception chamber. Ye Xiao, hearing that he had returned, felt uneasy and hurried after him to explain. “Your Highness, I did not deliberately let her in — truly. The little prince has been making a scene all day, crying that he wants to go back and find the Grand Princess and saying he will not go to the capital, and he refused to eat as well. I had absolutely no way to manage him, and she happened to come by, so I let her go in and try…”

Li Xuandu gave a noncommittal sound and said he understood, then pushed the door open and went in.

Pu Zhu waited patiently while Huaiwei finished eating, then comforted him for a while longer, told him to go to bed early that night, had the maidservant come in to keep him company, and only then walked out herself. She said to Ye Xiao, “The little prince has finished his meal and has agreed not to cause trouble anymore. He will go to the capital with you all tomorrow.”

Ye Xiao was very grateful and thanked her repeatedly.

Pu Zhu smiled. “It is nothing at all — not worth mentioning.”

She paused for a moment. “I also have another matter to attend to — I wish to request an audience with His Highness. I wonder if it might be possible for His Highness to spare some time to see me?”

Ye Xiao was slightly taken aback, thought for a moment, and said, “Young lady, please wait a moment while I go and announce you.”

Pu Zhu waited quietly for a moment. She saw Ye Xiao come hurrying back, looking embarrassed. “Young lady, I truly am sorry. Tomorrow morning they set out, and His Highness is occupied with pressing matters tonight — he is afraid he has no time to receive you.”

Pu Zhu glanced in the direction of the room where Li Xuandu was, nodded, then produced a sealed letter from her sleeve and offered it up with both hands and a sincere expression. “Would you please trouble the guard commander to pass this letter along to His Highness for me?”

Though Ye Xiao had personally witnessed the Pu girl’s secret nighttime meeting with that disreputable young man, thinking back on it afterward, he had concluded that there was nothing so wrong about it — a man unwed, a woman unspoken for, young people and the first stirrings of feeling. After further contact with her over these past days, he found her temperament more and more admirable. No matter how coldly Li Xuandu treated her, she never showed irritation; besides which, she had just now helped coax the little prince into eating his meal. His impression of her grew better and better with each encounter.

When he had gone to announce her just now, His Highness had refused without even looking up. He had worried this would be awkward for the young lady, yet here she was, still smiling pleasantly and offering him a letter to pass along. It was no great effort on his part — how could he refuse? He accepted it.

Ye Xiao watched the young lady’s retreating figure and carried the letter back in, knocking on the door to say, “Your Highness, the young lady of the Pu family has a letter she asks me to convey to Your Highness.” He finished speaking and, fearful that Li Xuandu would send it back, set it directly on the table, adding as he spoke, “Tomorrow they set out on the road. I will go check the luggage and preparations again — should Your Highness need anything, please call for me.” Saying this, he immediately retreated.

Li Xuandu sat beneath the lamplight for a while longer, and when he had finished reading the page in hand, at last shifted his gaze from the yellow parchment scroll and looked toward the letter Ye Xiao had brought.

The letter lay on the corner of the table, quietly waiting for someone to open it.

Li Xuandu finally reached out and took the letter, broke the seal, and swept his eyes over it — and his gaze stilled.

She had actually invited him to meet her at the hour of xu at the place where she had fallen into the water two days ago, saying she had something to discuss and earnestly requested he spare the time to come and see her.

Not only that, but she also said she truly had something important to say — something she must tell him face to face. She would wait for him there until the end of the hour of xu; if she did not see him come, she would turn around and return — and come knocking at his door in person.

Was this some kind of compulsion to make him go to her?

Li Xuandu felt deeply displeased.

Moreover, his instincts immediately told him: this was a trap she had laid.

Her true purpose would certainly not be as straightforward as what she had written in the letter.

What important matter could there be between him and her?

If it really were a trap — then the question became: after his nephew Li Chengyu and his young companion Huaiwei, what exactly was she now planning to do with him?

Li Xuandu’s gaze fixed on those few columns of slender, elegant characters, and a strange feeling swept through his heart.

A measure of disgust — and a measure of curiosity.

But quickly, when he thought of her at this very moment likely calculating in her mind that he would come to meet her, that feeling of disgust pressed down and suppressed the curiosity.

Did she take him for someone like his nephew Li Chengyu or the child Huaiwei, who could be beguiled and sent spinning by her?

Li Xuandu’s brow furrowed slightly. He gave the letter a casual toss.

The paper slid off the corner of the table, drifting like a butterfly, floating in lazy spirals until it finally landed at his feet.

Li Xuandu sat back down, picked up the yellow parchment he had been reading, and turned to the next page.

The candlelight illuminated his face. His eyelashes lowered as he read one page through, then turned to the next.

…

Pu Zhu arrived early beneath that flowering tree to wait for the person she had invited to come.

Apricot blossoms always bloomed passionately and abundantly, holding nothing back, drawing bees and butterflies — and so the world looked down on them and found them lacking in integrity, lacking in character, a touch of seductive commonness amid the spring light.

Yet Pu Zhu loved their passion and their fullness.

To live in this world was like being a spring flower: if one did not bloom with all one’s might before withering, would that not be to betray this splendid spring?

The hour of xu arrived, and all around was utterly still. The lamplight in the western courtyard on the other side of the wall dimmed and went out one by one.

The Commander’s Residence was wrapped in the shadow of night.

Pu Zhu had waited a long while and Li Xuandu had not come — yet she had not given up. She leaned against the flowering tree, still waiting patiently.

He might simply not come — that possibility could not be ruled out.

But he also might come, and this possibility Pu Zhu felt was the greater one.

People all have curiosity.

He had already rejected one face-to-face meeting from her that very evening, and still she had the audacity to write a second invitation. Even if he despised her, surely he harbored at least a trace of curiosity — surely he would want to know the purpose behind her persistent determination to see him?

The moonlight dissolved into the water. The spring pool sent out dark ripples in the night breeze, and the shadows of flowers swayed gently.

Gorgeous petals scattered down from the branches and gradually fell upon her head and shoulders.

Pu Zhu counted the time in her mind and estimated she was nearing the end of the hour of xu.

She had already been standing here waiting for him for nearly an hour. Her legs were going numb.

Ye Xiao ought to have delivered her letter by now.

He truly was not coming?

Or had he not even read her letter at all?

A growing sense of defeat welled up inside Pu Zhu. She felt despondent — and greatly regretted it. Earlier in the evening when Ye Xiao had relayed his refusal, she ought to have pushed her way in right then and there. Ye Xiao would have stopped her, but surely would not have had the heart to physically throw her out on the spot.

As long as she could see him face to face, she believed her chances of achieving her purpose were very good.

She tilted her face upward and gazed at the moon that had gradually climbed to the top of the sky above the flowering tree. After a long, quiet moment she breathed a deep breath, expelling from her body that sense of frustration she detested, and lowered her head in contemplation.

This matter was too important to her. Li Xuandu was leaving tomorrow; no matter what, she must try before he departed.

The hour of xu was not particularly late.

In the daytime she had had a maidservant inquire on her behalf about when Li Xuandu typically put out his lamp in the evening — the answer was generally the hour of hai.

She steeled herself, made up her mind to go back and try again, and even force her way in if necessary. She bowed her head and was just starting forward when she stopped.

She saw a tall, slender figure approaching from the direction of that door, footsteps neither hurried nor slow, making its way along the garden path, until it stopped some ten or so paces away from her.

“What is it you want?”

Li Xuandu’s voice was as tranquil as his silhouette in the moonlight.

He had come after all!

Pu Zhu’s heart gave a thud. She steadied herself, walked several steps toward him at a measured pace — but did not draw too close — and stopped, then offered him a bow.

“Thank you, Your Highness, for making time to come after all. My gratitude is beyond expression…”

“What is it you want? Just say it!”

Li Xuandu cut off her opening remarks.

Pu Zhu gave a start. “Then Your Highness, I will take the liberty of speaking plainly. These past few days, I have felt there seems to be some misunderstanding between myself and Your Highness, and there are certain things I ought to explain. The first concerns myself and the young man Cui Xuan. That night I did indeed meet with him privately outside the Fulu relay station. But the nature of my relationship with him is not what Your Highness imagines. At that time I had other business with him. Unfortunately I ran into Your Highness unexpectedly; it happened too suddenly and I did not know Your Highness — did not know that Your Highness has such a broad and generous character. In my fear of causing trouble, I wanted to extricate myself smoothly, and so I feigned the manner of a private amorous meeting between a man and woman.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

Li Xuandu felt himself thoroughly insulted. He thought of that disreputable young man hovering outside the gates of the Commander’s Residence, so lost in his thoughts that he had not even noticed the guard’s shouting. To be sunk that deep, if not from feeling — what was it?

Li Xuandu could only feel that coming here tonight at this last moment had been, on his part, the height of foolishness.

He was also too tired to bother pointing it out — he said nothing and turned to leave.

Pu Zhu was taken aback; she had not expected him to have not even the patience to listen, abandoning her with just the opening of her words and sweeping his sleeve and walking away.

This would not do.

What she truly needed to say had not even come yet.

She immediately went after him.

“Your Highness, please wait!”

Li Xuandu not only did not wait, his pace actually quickened slightly.

Pu Zhu, in her urgency, ran to catch up, placed herself directly in front of him, using her own body as a barrier to block his path.

He finally stopped, and looked up at her, raising an eyebrow.

Pu Zhu only then realized she had come very close to him, and afraid of provoking his disgust, hastily stepped back several steps before stopping.

“Please, Your Highness, hear me out for a few more words.”

She had at last managed to stop him; he did not press forward again.

Since he was a man who preferred directness, she would stop circling around it.

Pu Zhu continued, “The second matter concerns myself and the Crown Prince. I will not conceal it from Prince Qin — the Crown Prince has already expressed his feelings for me and promised to find a way to bring me to the capital one day.”

Li Xuandu said nothing.

“Your Highness, allow me to venture a bold guess: does Your Highness think me fickle, shameless, and without integrity? I will not defend myself — I also acknowledge it. That day at this very spot, I used the sound of the qin to draw the Crown Prince here to see me, and through this means secured his favorable attention — every bit of it was premeditated.”

Li Xuandu seemed astonished. He regarded her for a moment, and finally gave a snort. “I will say this for you — you are honest. You confessed it yourself.”

Pu Zhu gave a rueful smile. “I know Your Highness sees everything. That day when I unfortunately encountered Your Highness here, a scheme like mine — how could it possibly escape your notice? No wonder Your Highness formed such a poor opinion of me and has had no regard for me ever since.”

Li Xuandu said coldly, “You say all of this to my face — exactly what is it you are after? Knowing what you did was beneath reproach, why do it again and again? To dare to play the reigning Crown Prince like a toy on the palm of your hand — your audacity is not small! Do you have any regard for the imperial family’s dignity?”

Pu Zhu let him rebuke her, bowing her head like a child who has done wrong, and after he finished, was silent for a long moment.

Li Xuandu saw her head sunk down like a quail’s, motionless, and after waiting a moment said, “Speak! Did you go mute?”

Pu Zhu finally slowly raised her head. As she did, in the moonlight her eyes were already brimming with tears, a glimmer of water in them, trembling.

Li Xuandu was momentarily startled, and frowned. “Why are you crying?”

Pu Zhu quickly wiped at the tears, but the more she wiped, the more came. In the end they came rushing out, and she could not stop herself — she covered her face with both hands and wept without sound.

Li Xuandu was made deeply uncomfortable by her crying. His first instinct was to look hurriedly around him, afraid someone would hear or see and think he had been the one bullying her. His second was to review his own words — he reviewed them once, and felt they had not been unjust. Yet seeing her weep so sorrowfully, trying so hard to suppress the sound, her shoulders shaking in small, repeated spasms, he also felt a measure of vexation. He endured it for a moment, then gritted his teeth and said in a cold voice, “All right, stop crying!”

Pu Zhu hastily choked back her tears, rubbing them away in a disorderly fashion, then said in a choked voice, “Both my grandfather and my father were men of upright character, and I too studied for two years as a child and know a few characters of propriety, righteousness, integrity, and shame. Yet when I was only eight years old, I was sent here to serve out my exile. If not for my Ju A’mu, who toiled day and night to care for me, and afterward for the shelter of Commander Yang, I would have been dead long ago. These eight years I have endured every hardship and performed every kind of labor. In winter, when the river froze over, I was sent to do the washing; at first I still felt the cold in my hands, but by the time the laundry was done, my fingers had gone numb, without the least sensation — as if they no longer belonged to me…”

The expression of impatience on Li Xuandu’s face gradually faded. He looked at her, and fell silent.

Pu Zhu stole a glance at him.

“I am truly afraid of suffering! I simply do not want to live like that again! So when I learned the Crown Prince was staying at the Commander’s Residence, I found every way I could to come to know him. A tall tree offers good shade — I am a woman, with no great ambitions. I only no longer wish to go to the frozen riverbank to wash clothes in winter. I only want to live a better life, and if so I would be more than content — beyond that, I ask for nothing more.”

He remained silent.

“The Crown Prince and I share a love of the qin — we are kindred spirits. Meeting him is the greatest fortune of my life. Now I have been lucky enough to receive the Crown Prince’s promise, and I truly feel as if I too have fallen for the Crown Prince at first sight — I bear him no ill will. If in the future I truly come to serve by his side, it would be my greatest blessing. I know that Your Highness has a compassionate heart — that day at the relay station, Your Highness generously gave me money on first acquaintance, and I have not yet thanked you in person…”

Li Xuandu suddenly raised his hand, with a simple gesture stopping her from continuing to express gratitude toward him.

“Pu Shi — tonight, what was the purpose of you wanting to see me? What was it, in the end?”

He looked at her.

Pu Zhu drew a deep breath.

“I know I am not worthy of the Crown Prince. I also do not dare presume that Prince Qin Your Highness could understand the hardship of my circumstances. I only hope that in the future, if the Crown Prince truly does find a way to help me leave this place — I earnestly ask that Prince Qin Your Highness might show greater tolerance…”

The Pu girl’s words were at last spent, and the air fell quiet around them.

Before coming here that evening, Li Xuandu had been unable to stop himself from speculating about the reason behind the Pu girl’s insistence on meeting with him.

He had considered various possibilities — he had even had the passing thought that she might be trying to seduce him.

That thought had struck him as both absurd beyond measure and repellent beyond measure. If it truly came to that, he would seize the opportunity to give her a thorough dressing-down, to make her understand that not all men in the world were, as she imagined, the sort to be undone by a beautiful face.

Prince Qin had never, in any case, imagined that all the Pu girl had gone to such lengths to meet with him for was this.

So it turned out that she had her heart set on his nephew the Crown Prince, had decided the Crown Prince was the one who could rescue her from hardship and be the man she could depend on for life — and afraid that he might interfere, she had arranged this meeting to plead her case.

No more than that.

Her behavior was undoubtedly of the lowest order — but after hearing this unguarded outpouring from her heart, he could no longer bring himself to reproach her.

Besides, what right did he have to reproach someone who had endured such a catastrophic change of fortune at the tender age of eight?

The bitterness of falling from a high position — that he understood better than anyone, and he himself had been sixteen years old by then — already an adult.

She was nothing more than a frail young woman. This was most likely the best possible outcome and choice she could conceive of for herself. As long as she harbored no genuine intention of harming the Crown Prince, why should he interfere in other people’s business?

Besides, the matter of romance between his nephew and this girl — that was truly not something he, as so-called imperial uncle, could intervene in.

Li Xuandu slowly let out the breath he had been holding in his chest. After a moment of silence, he asked unexpectedly, “What about Huaiwei? What exactly did you say to him the other night? Otherwise why would he be clamoring to take you as his princess consort?”

Pu Zhu opened her eyes wide. “Your Highness truly wrongs me — no matter how shameless I may be, the little prince is but a child. How could I possibly harbor improper intentions toward him? I recall saying no more than a word or two to comfort him, telling him that Your Highness is a good person — the very best kind — and asking him to listen to what you say, otherwise you would be sad. That was all. If you don’t believe me, go and ask him yourself! I know Your Highness has a warm heart beneath your cool exterior — otherwise, that day at the Fulu relay station, why would Your Highness, on a first acquaintance, so generously reward me with a great deal of money…”

Being so openly and shamelessly flattered to his face made Li Xuandu feel a peculiar, slightly shamefaced awkwardness.

“Pu Shi!”

He could bear it no longer and cut her off again.

Her mouth finally stopped its words; she tilted her face up slightly, and her eyes came to rest upon him.

Moonlight overhead poured down like water, and her eyes too seemed to hold water in them.

Li Xuandu did not wish to look, and shifted his gaze — only to catch sight of an apricot blossom petal caught on the side of her dark pinned-up hair.

Just then the night breeze came, and the petal fluttered down from her hair and landed on her shoulder. She remained entirely unaware of it.

Li Xuandu had always disliked apricot blossoms — found them overly common and garish.

He firmly suppressed the impulse to brush that apricot blossom petal from her shoulder, and said with composure, “Pu Shi, I gave you money out of respect for your father. That is all — there is nothing more for you to read into it. As for today’s matter…”

He paused.

“Since that is how things stand — henceforth conduct yourself wisely!”

He finished speaking, stepped forward, and walked away.

“Your Highness, wait!”

Li Xuandu walked a few steps and heard her calling out from behind him.

He stopped, and looked back slightly.

Pu Zhu turned and ran back under the flowering tree, picked up a small food basket she had brought, and came running lightly back, her figure fleet as a young deer.

Li Xuandu watched her come running back to stand before him and say, “Thank you, Your Highness. You truly are a good person — you have helped me greatly. I live here depending on others’ generosity, so there is nothing much I can offer in return. This is some apricot blossom cake I made today. It is but a humble thing, yet it is clean, and I offer it as a small token of gratitude. Please do not think it beneath you.”

As she spoke, she held out the small food basket to him.

Li Xuandu had absolutely no desire to take it, but seeing her looking at him with a smiling face, he could not bring himself to refuse outright. He hesitated awkwardly for a moment, then, with no other recourse, made a reluctant, grudging movement of his shoulder.

Pu Zhu took the opportunity to press the little basket into his hand, offered him a bow, then turned and went swiftly on her way.

Li Xuandu stood there watching her light figure disappear quickly around the bend of the path into the night.

A breeze carrying the fragrance of flowers drifted past. He looked around him, and unexpectedly felt a fleeting, distant sense of detachment, as if he could not quite be certain where he was.

He lowered his head and stared at the small food basket in his hand. Suppressing the urge to throw it away, he at last, with considerable reluctance, carried it back and handed it to Ye Xiao to have the maidservants put away, saying with a cool expression, “Tomorrow, give it to the little prince for a snack on the road.”

“Consider it my making it up to him.”

With those words, Li Xuandu left the utterly bewildered man behind, turned himself around, hands clasped behind his back, feet treading the moonlight on the walkway, sleeves drifting wide, and walked away.

Pu Zhu knew that after this night Li Xuandu must have been thoroughly managed by her and had completely set aside her concerns about him.

As for his impression of her — she did not care in the least.

The apricot blossom cake she had presented at the end — Pu Zhu suspected he would throw it away with nine parts certainty. Let him throw it away; she did not mind. It had always been nothing more than a tool.

In any case she had achieved her goal, and was in excellent spirits. That evening, when she returned to her quarters, she slept a rare long and sweet sleep. The next morning she got up early and went with Zhang Shi to see them off.

The Crown Prince did not dare take private leave of her. That morning as he departed, his ten thousand words came down to nothing but a gaze held long and steady upon her. Even after mounting his horse, he looked back again and again.

The little prince was equally reluctant to leave. At the final moment before boarding his carriage, he managed to pull free of the attendants’ hands, ran over, and whispered in her ear: she must come to the capital before long, and once she arrived, he would serve as her guide.

“Huaiwei — we’re going!”

Li Xuandu, looking on from the side, grew truly impatient at the sight of these two with all their apparently unending words to exchange. He could not help speaking up to cut them short.

“Go on — listen to what your Fourth Brother says on the road. Don’t make him cross.”

Pu Zhu glanced at that man with his brows slightly knitted, and urged Huaiwei into his carriage.

The little prince puckered his lips, and only then allowed the attendants who had chased him down to lift him up and seat him in the carriage.

At the hour of si, this great procession of several hundred people — encompassing the Western Di envoy’s party — finally departed the prefectural city and set out toward the capital.

And Pu Zhu began her quiet wait — waiting for the moment when she could return to the capital.

In the fifth month, on the day of yiwei, of the fifth year of the Xiaochang reign, a bolt of lightning came striking down, smashing into the crown of the main ridge of the Mingzong Temple, hurling to the ground and shattering one of the great roof ridge beast ornaments that stood several feet high on one side. The temple hall caught fire.

This was a grave matter — and it fell on the very eve of the Grand Empress Dowager Jiang’s seventieth birthday celebration, and was viewed as an ill omen. On the recommendation of the Grand Diviner Wei, all civil and military officials wore plain undyed clothing for three days as an expression of solemn mourning over the event, and various interpretations began circulating.

Several days later, the Crown Prince’s Grand Tutor and Grand Ceremony Director Guo Lang, undeterred by the prospect of death, submitted a memorial requesting that Emperor Xiaochang reopen the investigation into the treasonous case that had condemned Pu Youzhi in the thirty-ninth year of Xuanning.