The two large boxes of jewelry lay quietly on the floor. The hairpins inside were a riot of colors, with the topmost piece set in red gold, its head inlaid with seven or eight gems the size of pigeon eggs—crimson, sapphire blue, jade green, bright yellow…
All the flashy colors were crammed together, reflecting a dazzling, almost chaotic brilliance in the candlelight.
It was so bright it could blind someone—luridly gaudy, a fervent display that practically radiated heat.
Each piece outshone the last, with every color of the rainbow gathered together in one place.
Wen Shuyu couldn’t bring herself to smile.
She pointed at herself, then at the two boxes, and asked Xiao Liu, “So in Xiao Jingchen’s eyes, this is my sense of aesthetics?”
Xiao Liu: “….”
Wen Shuyu removed the white jade hairpin from her own hair. In the flickering candlelight, it gleamed with a cold, moonlit radiance. Every subtle movement seemed to cast a delicate halo over her dark hair, beautiful beyond words.
She picked up a hairpin from the box, comparing it to her own white jade one.
“This can’t be… I never looked this bad in front of Xiao Jingchen before, did I?”
Thinking for a moment, Wen Shuyu felt a bit dazed. “Xiao Liu, I think… I won’t expect any more gifts from Xiao Jingchen from now on. Really.”
Xiao Liu stared at the two huge boxes, mouth agape for a long moment before finally saying, “Understood, Master.”
Meanwhile, in the Bamboo Garden…
Xiao Jingchen was making tea at his desk. When Mo Yu returned, he lifted his eyelids slightly. “Were the gifts delivered?”
Mo Yu nodded. “Yes, Your Highness. The stewardesses carefully selected them according to your instructions. When I delivered the boxes, the princess couldn’t hide the delight in her eyes at seeing them.”
A faint smile tugged at Xiao Jingchen’s lips. “Of course. After all, they are gifts from me—she would naturally be pleased.”
Mo Yu glanced at the night outside, then at the rising steam from the tea. “Your Highness, why are you still making tea at this hour? Shouldn’t you rest?”
Xiao Jingchen sat there, bathed in moonlight, the gentle glow highlighting the side of his face. He shook his head with a smile. “You don’t understand. Wen Shuyu received my gift; she is probably so happy she cannot sleep. Perhaps she will come looking for me later.”
“If I rest now, I will have to get up again. Better to make tea here and wait for her.”
An hour passed.
Another hour.
And yet another.
Until dawn…
By the time morning breakfast was served, the atmosphere was quieter than usual.
Xiao Jingchen remained silent throughout the meal.
His gaze repeatedly flicked to the unchanged white jade hairpin in Wen Shuyu’s hair, then to the meat on her plate, his Adam’s apple moving, words caught in his throat.
Wen Shuyu, for her part, didn’t mention the hairpins from last night. After all, it was a gift, and she couldn’t very well say they were ugly.
She took a bite of steamed bass, chewing slowly, then reached for a piece of lamb across the table, appearing very busy.
Xiao Jingchen helped her by placing the lamb on her plate, casually asking, “Why aren’t you wearing the hairpins I gave you?”
Wen Shuyu’s hand paused midair, her eyes flickering. “Ah… they’re so valuable. I’m afraid of damaging them if I wear them day to day.”
Xiao Jingchen smiled softly, gaze gentle. “Or is it because I gave them to you… that you can’t bear to wear them?”
“If you like, I can buy more for you later, many, many more. Don’t worry about their value. Wear whichever you like.”
Wen Shuyu was momentarily speechless. She stirred her rice awkwardly, forcing a laugh. “No, no, that’s already too many. Better not give more.”
Xiao Jingchen’s eyes shifted slightly—he sensed something was off—and he remained silent.
After breakfast, when Wen Shuyu left…
Xiao Jingchen turned to Mo Yu. “The stewardesses, when choosing the hairpins—what designs did they pick?”
Mo Yu scratched his head. “I didn’t check, Your Highness. But all were selected as per your instructions—the kind that glimmer in sunlight.”
A foreboding feeling settled over Xiao Jingchen. “Go verify.”
By the time Mo Yu returned with the design sketches, half an hour had passed.
Xiao Jingchen stared at the sketches, one after another, feeling a sudden, sharp pulse in his temples.
…
Meanwhile, Wen Shuyu had been “resting” for some time, taking her priceless Giyuan Pills, one after another, until she felt recovered enough.
That night, in a bamboo pavilion outside the Plum Garden, she drank alone.
Xiao Liu, unable to handle his liquor, had long gone to bed, leaving Wen Shuyu to her own devices.
She loved wine, and the past days of abstaining had been frustrating. Soon, one large jar of peach blossom wine after another was emptied.
When Xiao Jingchen arrived at the pavilion, he saw Fu Ling and a few other palace maids trying to support the slightly tipsy Wen Shuyu back to the Plum Garden.
Seeing the prince arrive, the maids went to bow, but Xiao Jingchen waved them off.
“Go ahead.”
One by one, they left, leaving only Wen Shuyu and Xiao Jingchen in the pavilion.
Under the moonlight, Wen Shuyu’s cheeks glowed pink—not from makeup, but from the flush of her skin, gradually spreading to her ears and jade neck.
Seeing Xiao Jingchen approach, she suddenly rose, stepping toward him with water-like, shimmering eyes, a soft, slightly drunk smile on her lips. “Handsome… Xiao Jingchen…”
Not her usual “Prince Brother,” but calling him by name directly.
She staggered toward him, almost stepping on an empty jar.
Xiao Jingchen’s gaze remained calm, yet he said nothing.
The moment she stepped on it, tripping, he caught her steadily, holding her waist firmly.
His voice, gentle and indulgent in the quiet courtyard: “Look at you—never watch where you’re going, and you fall…”