After the snow, the first rays of sunlight cast a shimmering glow over the bluestone bricks of Yongtai Avenue.
A carriage swayed leisurely along the smooth street, a jade plaque engraved with the character "Jin" hanging from it, clearly indicating its owner's identity.
Thus, pedestrians several yards away instinctively made way, fearing they might obstruct the carriage.
Nanny Du gently stroked the jade thumb ring on her finger—a fine piece of green jade, smooth and delicate, its luster flowing like moonlight.
The carriage paused briefly in front of the Imperial Censor's residence, where a maid in pink stood respectfully outside the curtain.
Nanny Du extended a hand, a letter held between her fingers.
The maid received it with both hands, stepped aside, and watched the carriage depart before turning to deliver the message.
Madam Song unfolded the letter, which contained only a few brief words:
"Yu Shiqie has greatly pleased Prince Jin."
She repeated the sentence aloud, then casually tossed the letter into a brazier, watching it burn to ashes.
She found it laughable—merely the daughter of a minor official from the Taicang Bureau. Having learned some seductive, unsavory tricks, she had managed to bewitch the young Prince Jin.
Was this truly worth Nanny Du treating it as a grave threat, rushing to deliver the news to the Imperial Censor's residence?
Her daughter, destined to become the Princess Consort, had long anticipated such a day.
For a mistress to fret over the concubines beneath her would be far too narrow-minded.
Not to mention the shiqie, there would still be two side consorts to be taken.
To secure Prince Jin's heart, one must not cling to it alone.
No matter how much those beneath her stirred, they could never rise above the Princess Consort. As long as she held her position, all those restless, seductive vixens would have to bow and pay their respects to her with proper decorum.
This Yu Zhu, without even a respectable family to back her—what was there to fear?
Once she entered the manor, there would be plenty of ways to make her suffer.
The silver spoon in Madam Song's hand was exquisitely small, its handle adorned with two vibrant red gemstones.
These stones came from the Western Regions. Upon first seeing them, even the well-traveled Madam Song had been deeply captivated.
A small stone, yet it possessed such a splendid array of colors.
Red, yellow, blue, orange, purple—countless hues, so pure and free of any impurities.
The stone was translucent, cut into dozens of facets, requiring only a hint of light to sparkle like stars.
Yet even so, it was merely inlaid on a spoon, serving only to brighten her mood while she ate bird's nest.
Madam Song's daughter had grown up in such an environment.
So-called rare treasures were nothing more than playthings she had kicked around for amusement at the age of ten.
Such a noble lady—how could she possibly regard someone like Yu Zhu, from a humble background, with any concern?
Madam Song smoothed the hair behind her ear and asked, "What is the young lady doing?"
Beside her stood Yao Huang, her chief maid, personally chosen by Madam Song's mother during her maiden years. As a dowry maid, she had accompanied Madam Song into the Qian family's gates, and twenty years had passed in the blink of an eye.
She was Madam Song's most trusted confidante.
Yao Huang helped Madam Song to her feet, bowing her head slightly as she replied, "The young lady is still learning etiquette from the palace nanny."
Madam Song hummed in acknowledgment. "Let's go see."
In the garden, Qian Wan Hui was practicing the rituals for ceremonial sacrifices.
The New Year was approaching, and Qian Wan Hui, soon to become the Princess Consort, would also attend the grand ceremony to worship Heaven.
The Empress would lead the newlywed women in bowing to their ancestors, offering reverence to Heaven and Earth, praying for favorable weather and peace in the coming year.
Thus, not a single mistake could be allowed.
The grand palace attire was heavy and cumbersome. Though magnificent, it seemed almost absurdly mismatched on the slender frame of a sixteen-year-old girl.
Qian Wanhui wore a floral crown, with a golden phoenix on each side. Pearl tassels hung from the wings of the phoenixes, and six golden hairpins adorned the back of her head. Not to mention the various other ornaments.
Her entire headpiece weighed a good five or six catties.
And that was considered light—it was said the crown of the Crown Princess had six phoenixes, while the Empress’s had nine.
Since morning, Qian Wanhui had been practicing standing and kneeling postures.
Kneeling before the ancestors required three bows and nine kowtows, while kneeling to heaven and earth demanded nine bows and nine kowtows.
Her legs had long since grown weak and unsteady, and her mouth was so dry it felt as if it might catch fire.
To avoid the need for a break during the ceremony, noblewomen typically fasted beforehand.
At most, they would keep a slice of ginseng in their mouths.
Song Shi looked at her daughter’s pale, weary face, her expression listless and utterly exhausted.
Her heart ached with pity, but she quickly resigned herself to it.
This was Qian Wanhui’s fate—she was destined for nobility, and there was no escaping it.
Song Shi dabbed a handkerchief at Qian Wanhui’s temples, where fine beads of sweat had already dampened her hair.
Qian Wanhui lifted her eyes, her energy completely drained.
"Mother," she said, "could I rest for a moment?"
Suppressing the ache in her heart, Song Shi’s expression remained stern.
"Good child, just hold on a little longer."
Before she could say more, Qian Wanhui had already turned away.
Since persuasion was futile, there was no point in pressing further.
With an impassive expression, she repeated the motions of bowing and rising under the approving gaze of the matron. The intricate prayers were already committed to memory, and Qian Wanhui recited them almost instinctively, word by word.
Song Shi stood by, watching as the instructing matron approached to congratulate her.
"Madame Censor, what good fortune you have to have such a fairy-like daughter. Dignified and sensible, with a resilient temperament—her blessings lie ahead!"
Song Shi smiled, having clearly heard such flattery many times before.
Yet, despite that, a sense of pride welled up within her.
Yes, this was her daughter, destined to rise above others.
She would become Prince Jin’s virtuous helpmate, the pride of their family.
Her name, and the names of her children, would be clearly recorded in the imperial genealogy.
For generations to come, their descendants would carry royal blood.
Song Shi’s smile deepened. "Please take extra care with her, Matron."
She took out a gold ingot and firmly pressed it into the instructing matron’s hand.
"You’ve worked hard, Matron. Please accept this token of my gratitude."
The hairpin in Song Shi’s hair swayed gently, its twelve golden silk tassels adorned with filigree crabapple blossoms dazzling the matron’s eyes.
The matron tucked the gold into her sleeve.
"This is merely my duty."
In Prince Jin’s residence, Yu Zhu was busy with needlework.
She truly couldn’t delay any longer.
It was said that such skills were essential for a new princess consort—every year during the Silkworm Festival, noblewomen were expected to donate cloth.
Even if servants could handle the work, one couldn’t entirely neglect the appearance of effort.
Besides, Yu Zhu wasn’t sure she would have the means in the future to pay servants to weave cloth for her.
Though news from the inner courtyard traveled slowly, it eventually reached Yu Zhu’s ears.
The selection for Prince Jin’s consort had been finalized—she was the daughter of the Censor-in-Chief.
Her name was Qian Wanhui, a composed and graceful young woman, whose beauty was said to be unparalleled.
Early that morning, Yu Zhu was combing Prince Jin’s hair.
Holding his heavy locks, she carefully smoothed them and secured his crown.
Suddenly, she heard Prince Jin say with a laugh that he planned to go hunting that day.
"Is there anything you’d like?"
Before Yu Zhu could answer, Prince Jin continued on his own.
"I made plans with the Crown Prince to go hunting today. I intend to hunt a bear and make its pelt into a rug for the Princess Consort. Is there anything you'd like? I can hunt it for you."
No wonder he was dressed so simply today—no jade pendants or decorative tassels. His loose, wide-sleeved robes had been replaced by fitted riding attire with narrow sleeves, and his waist was cinched with a leather protective belt. Wrist and knee guards were also fully equipped, making his originally somewhat delicate features appear exceptionally dashing.
Yu Zhu thought that Prince Jin must be quite satisfied with the Princess Consort, otherwise he wouldn’t go out of his way to hunt a bear as a gift.
But was a bear pelt really a good gift?
A gentle and refined Princess Consort, sitting on a dark, shaggy bear pelt—not only would it clash with her demeanor, but it would also be out of place with the furnishings in the room.
In Yu Zhu’s opinion, gifts for women, especially one’s intimate partner, should carry sentimental meaning.
Things like shoes, tasseled ornaments, or combs.
But Prince Jin was, after all, Prince Jin. Rather than a gift for the Princess Consort, it seemed more like a reflection of his own preferences.
Prince Jin waited for a long time but heard no response from Yu Zhu.
He assumed she was jealous and couldn’t help but find it amusing.
Young women were, after all, young women—their hearts could never tolerate others.
He lifted Yu Zhu’s chin, rubbing her delicate skin.
The pain made Yu Zhu frown.
"Are you jealous?" Prince Jin asked. "She is the Princess Consort. You cannot be jealous of her."
Prince Jin said this merely for amusement, wanting to see Yu Zhu’s reaction.
It wasn’t that he forbade those around him from feeling jealous—as long as it didn’t escalate to the Princess Consort’s attention.
In the inner chambers, what man didn’t enjoy a woman’s possessiveness toward him?
Yu Zhu pursed her lips. What did she have to be jealous about?
She knew her place all too well.
A mere concubine, jealous of the Princess Consort—was she even worthy?
She refused to answer that question and only responded to the earlier one.
"A deer."
"A deer?"
Prince Jin released her chin. He had expected Yu Zhu to ask for a rabbit.
He instinctively felt that a woman like Yu Zhu would prefer something cute like a rabbit, so he added without hesitation:
"I’ll bring you a rabbit too. You can raise it well, and it’ll keep you company."
A deer was fine, but wild deer were difficult to tame. He would do his best to bring back a live one.
Yu Zhu, however, wasn’t thinking of keeping it alive.
She had never had her fill of venison before.
Once, she attended a tea party hosted by the daughter of the Minister of Revenue, where Bian Qingqing received a deer leg as a gift from her brother.
The venison was sliced thinly, arranged on a plate, and grilled over a fire. Sprinkled with just a layer of fine salt, the aroma wafted from afar, leaving Yu Zhu utterly enchanted.
She only got one slice. As the venison entered her mouth, it first released a rich, creamy fragrance of fat, mingled with a hint of milky sweetness. Then came the unique, firm texture of the meat. Because it was grilled over fruitwood charcoal, it also carried the fresh, distinctive scent of the wood—truly an unforgettable taste.
As for rabbits, they were best stewed.
But from Prince Jin’s tone, it seemed he intended for her to raise it, not eat it.
In Prince Jin’s mind, a delicate woman like Yu Zhu should be kind-hearted, pure, and adorable—how could she possibly eat a bunny?
Long after Prince Jin left, Yu Zhu was still thinking about venison and rabbit meat.
Lan Xi, seeing her distracted expression, assumed she was upset about the Princess Consort.
She could only console her: "Miss, even after the Princess Consort enters the household, His Highness will still care for you."
Yu Zhu rolled her eyes. "I know."
Outside, the snow had just melted. Even a stroll in the garden would dirty her skirt, shoes, and socks.
While thinking about grilled meat, Yu Zhu also reflected on her poor needlework.
She asked Lan Xi to fetch a few simple embroidery patterns, starting with a handkerchief.
I hope the princess consort is easy to get along with, so I can rely on her support.
If she isn't, I'll just keep to my own little corner.
After all, dealing with Prince Jin is exhausting—I'm always afraid of saying the wrong thing and making him angry.
Yu Zhu doesn't expect to hold much weight in Prince Jin's heart; she knows her own limitations all too well.
She only hopes that by staying dutiful and keeping to herself, she can live a peaceful and stable life.