Outside the Crown Prince’s residence, Chen Jiao leapt down from the carriage. Had she known the Crown Prince was in a foul mood recently, she might have turned around and gone home.
But she had no idea what had happened. At that moment, she was brimming with excitement, carrying a small jar—most likely another offering for the Crown Prince.
Because Chen Jiao visited so frequently, the Crown Prince had even instructed the eunuchs that her arrival need not be reported; she could enter directly.
Entering the residence, she found Xie Xianqing reviewing documents inside.
The study remained as usual, with the sunlight filtering gently and magpies calling outside the window, yet Xie Xianqing’s mood was like a dark noonday, sinking to the depths of a valley.
How could he have such an absurd and ridiculous dream?
Though he was aware of worldly matters, and occasionally heard whispers of men in the court being indulgent toward both genders, Xie Xianqing had never paid it much mind.
He never imagined he would one day dream of being entangled with Chen Jiao, also a youth.
Alongside irritation, there was shock and disbelief in his heart.
At that moment, Chen Jiao burst in cheerfully, saying, “Your Highness was under the weather a few days ago. I have specially procured this ginseng to stew with chicken for your recovery…”
Unexpectedly, the Crown Prince responded lightly, “Chen Jiao, your thoughtfulness is appreciated.”
He had not yet decided how to handle this, nor how to face Chen Jiao.
Glancing over the inkstone on his desk, he asked absentmindedly, “Chen Jiao, are you betrothed?”
Chen Jiao tensed. “I am still young and have not been promised to anyone.”
What was going on with all these people suddenly concerned about her marriage? If the Crown Prince raised this, could it be that he wished to arrange a match for her?
It was not impossible. She was a close aide of the Crown Prince; a superior arranging such matters to strengthen ties would not be unheard of.
But the key was that Chen Jiao had no desire to marry.
Hearing her reply, the Crown Prince frowned slightly, expression unreadable, revealing neither satisfaction nor dissatisfaction.
He asked again, “Chen Jiao, is there anyone you fancy?”
Here it comes!
Chen Jiao felt her earlier guess had been correct, and her spirits lifted immediately.
She promptly deployed the same line she had used with the Deputy Minister of Revenue, sighing, “My heart is devoted solely to following Your Highness in achieving great deeds, with no thought for love.”
The phrasing was slightly stiff. Chen Jiao, worried that refusing might embarrass her superior, added a gentle compliment: “Moreover, I am not as outstanding as Your Highness, and few would hold affection for me…”
Xie Xianqing, seated comfortably, felt a jolt of disbelief. He involuntarily recalled the Grand Tutor’s advice, a vague suspicion forming in his mind.
Chen Jiao had always treated him well, attentive and considerate, yet her words were bold. He had thought it mere flattery, but in retrospect, traces of genuine sentiment were everywhere. A child from the Marquis family, yet so considerate and fitting, could it be that she truly liked him?
Xie Xianqing’s gaze darkened as he watched her. A young youth, protected by elders, with no concubines at home, he could understand a fledgling heart temporarily straying.
Chen Jiao had no idea that her overzealous flattery had placed her in the “youth of similar disposition” category. She was still diligently working to curry favor for her own advancement.
She flattered earnestly, “Your Highness, your elegance and refinement have long been renowned. I have longed to meet you and learn a fraction of your true skill!”
With people chatting nearby and the study windows open, the faint scent of osmanthus wafted in, overlapping with the scenes from his dream.
Xie Xianqing, momentarily dazed, frowned lightly. He whispered, “Another jest, perhaps.”
Unaware of the Crown Prince’s unease, Chen Jiao continued earnestly, “All I say is true, Your Highness. You are considerate, gentle, and graceful. Even a casual inquiry would reveal countless maidens who admire you.”
She continued, “Were I a girl, I would surely be smitten by you too!”
In Chen Jiao’s eyes, such words were perfectly normal. In the modern world, who hasn’t said to a close friend, “If you were the opposite gender, I’d be your partner”?
Yet her casual remark struck Xie Xianqing like a thunderclap, unsettling his mind.
If Chen Jiao were indeed a girl, the dream would not seem so absurd…
His fingertips tightened within his sleeve, yet his face remained composed. Calmly, he said, “Nonsense. I do not understand your meaning.”
Unable to endure the cloying osmanthus, he stood, covering his face with his sleeve, and said, “Take the items back with you.”
The rebuke came suddenly; this was the first time Chen Jiao had ever been scolded by the Crown Prince. Confused, she muttered, “Oh,” and obediently stepped aside.
Superiors were hard to please—she praised him, yet he scolded her.
Afterward, Xie Xianqing did not explain, returning to his documents in silence.
Chen Jiao did not know what she had said to provoke him. Standing in the study a while, seeing no intention from him to call her back, she finally carried the ginseng chicken soup back along the same route.
She had carefully chosen a fine mountain ginseng, though not as precious as the Crown Prince’s storehouse provisions, stewing it slowly for hours, carrying it painstakingly herself.
That the Crown Prince would neither accept nor appreciate it confused her.
She comforted herself, reasoning that superiors naturally had bad moods. With several princes troubling the Crown Prince and the emperor’s gaze ever watchful, such agitation was understandable.
As a conscientious subordinate, she resolved to avoid drawing his ire further, deciding to stay away until his mood improved.
Yet carrying the heavy jar back and forth alone left her hands sore.
She paused for a moment to glance back at the Crown Prince in the study, bent over his papers, showing no intention of recalling her. Only then did she continue her slow exit.
Unbeknownst to her, as she turned, Xie Xianqing set aside his documents, his deep eyes following her retreating figure, his irritation only growing.
…
After leaving the Crown Prince’s residence, Chen Jiao boarded the carriage with her comically large jar. Pouting, she thought in sulky frustration: such a fine soup, the Crown Prince refuses it—she would take it home to drink herself.
The Crown Prince was in a foul mood; being scolded herself left Chen Jiao equally glum. Coincidentally, the Old Marquis was going to the Hot-spring Villa to fetch the ailing old lady for a rest. Chen Jiao immediately volunteered to accompany him.
She decided to take a break, enjoying herself for a while, returning to work once the Crown Prince’s mood improved.
“Hmph, even subordinates have rights—they can protest!”
The old lady’s health was fragile. Each season, she retreated to the Hot-spring Villa to recuperate. The villa boasted pleasant scenery, with a nearby mountain for hunting.
While Chen Jiao relaxed at the villa, Xie Xianqing in Chang’an found no ease of mind.
For some reason, he never again had such a dream that night, yet he frequently thought of Chen Jiao, pitifully carrying the soup away.
The slender youth, cradling the jar, head lowered, a lonely figure.
Around him, silence; only the whisper of grass and wind. Accustomed to Chen Jiao’s constant chatter, Xie Xianqing suddenly felt a twinge of emptiness.