The crowd lowered their heads, expressions varied—some pitying, some regretful, others gloating. Silence dragged on until Jiang Nian’s legs nearly gave way, when Qi Yi finally spoke: “Since you cannot learn properly, then come to my side. I will personally supervise you. If you still fail, you’ll be dragged out and executed.”
The brocade curtain fell. Jiang Nian glanced at the restless imperial guards nearby and dared not delay a moment, hurrying to the dragon palanquin. Only once the procession resumed did she breathe again. Head bowed, she walked meekly, no longer daring to make the slightest move.
Because tomorrow was the formal grand ceremony, the entourage stopped to rest and prepare for tonight’s banquet, when envoys from all nations would pay their respects. By fortune, Jiang Nian was assigned by Rong Chengguang to Qi Yi’s tent to handle cleaning.
The tent was spacious, yet everything had already been scrubbed spotless beforehand. Only the imperial desk needed wiping. By the hour of Wei, the sun blazed hotter, and Qi Yi had not yet returned. Jiang Nian finished her task and sat at the desk, rubbing her aching legs. She had walked so long her calves throbbed. At least she was placed in Qi Yi’s tent—had she been sent outside to haul things under the sun, she might truly have fainted. After resting awhile, boredom crept in. She turned and examined the books on Qi Yi’s desk. There weren’t many; mostly, the treatises every emperor was expected to study.
Jiang Nian found no interest in such imperial arts. She pulled out a sheet of xuan paper to paint, letting her hand wander. Sunlight streamed through the window, glancing off the paper, and she paused. On it, broken eaves burned in fierce flames, and before them stood a man in brocade robes, his figure entwined with sparks.
It was… Qi Yi.
She blinked, involuntarily recalling that day Fu Garden burned, and his silhouette in the fire. For a fleeting moment, she wondered—if she had perished in the blaze, might Qi Yi have followed her into death?
Lost in thought, she didn’t notice the tent’s outer curtain lift until a stern voice cut in: “Who dares be so presumptuous?”
Startled, Jiang Nian scrambled to hide the painting. In her haste, she knocked over the inkstone. With a crash, it shattered, ink spilling across the floor.
Qi Yi’s gaze fixed on the pale-faced maid, his lips curling: “Men, drag her out and cut off her hand.”
His voice carried anger. A guard entered with a blade drawn, ready to strike. Jiang Nian’s mind went blank. Instinctively, she lifted her head: “No!”
The guard did not stop, drawing closer. Jiang Nian gritted her teeth, rushed forward, and clung to Qi Yi, her voice trembling: “No, Your Majesty, please don’t cut off your concubine’s hand.”
Her eyes brimmed with tears, rimmed red, like a frightened rabbit. Only then did Qi Yi’s coldness ease. “So you finally drop the act of being a new palace maid?”
Jiang Nian bit her lip, speaking pitifully: “It’s only because Your Majesty forbade me to come. I longed to see you, so I had no choice but to resort to this.”
“I walked such a long way, my legs nearly gave out. Yet Your Majesty did not pity my suffering—on the contrary, you even ordered the guards to cut my hand. I’m so aggrieved I could die.”
Her words were not false. Even through the brocade curtain, one could see her little face wrinkled from the journey. To the unknowing eye, she looked more like a criminal exiled a thousand miles away.
But Qi Yi’s heart did not soften: “Since you disguised yourself as a palace maid, then you are no different from one. Do not cling to me, nor act spoiled. If you cannot endure it, while it is still early, I shall send someone to escort you back to the palace.”
Jiang Nian frowned, displeased: “No! I finally managed to see Your Majesty—I won’t go back.”
“Then will you do the labor of a servant?”
That was impossible. She had only borrowed the guise of a maid; she had no intention of truly playing the part. Fearing Qi Yi’s displeasure, Jiang Nian softened her voice, testing: “I can be a maid… but only Your Majesty’s maid, is that alright?”
A faint sheen of sweat clung to her, carrying not an unpleasant odor but a strong floral-fruit fragrance. Qi Yi’s throat tightened: “My maid must not shirk her duties. Moreover…”
“She must sleep by my bed at night, ready to serve at any time. If she fails to serve well, I will not be lenient.”
“I will punish you.”
To spend the night here was far more comfortable than the quarters of a maid—and she could watch Qi Yi closely, preventing him from meeting the heroine. It was a dream come true.
Jiang Nian beamed, hurrying to sit obediently by the bed: “I will serve Your Majesty well.”
Nightfall.
Lanterns glowed, slender figures swayed beneath glazed tiles, sleeves fluttered, songs lingered. Delicacies filled the banquet table. Qi Yi sat upon the high dais, consorts to his right, ministers and visiting envoys to his left.
Because this year a royal prince would join the grand hunt, envoys from all nations had brought rare treasures: luminous pearls, beast-patterned brocade, jade scepters, giant clams…
One by one, the offerings were laid before the banquet. The envoys awaited Qi Yi’s approval—yet the young prince scoffed first: “Mere trinkets, unworthy of being my reward. Truly, small states are small states, offering nothing fit for display.”
Faces darkened, fists clenched in humiliation, but none dared retort. The Great Zhou dynasty, though its throne leaned toward the empress’s kin, commanded unmatched military power—none could risk offense.
Among the envoys, only Bai Feng remained composed, even smiling as he stepped forward: “The young prince is noble indeed. Surely worldly treasures no longer surprise him. Yet I do have one rare gift.”
Zhao Jing lifted his chin, disdainful: “What treasure could your northern backwater possibly offer?”
Bai Feng raised his hand. Five guards led forth a sweating-blood stallion. Taller than ordinary warhorses of his land, it bore heterochromatic eyes. Even battle-hardened General Xu showed rare astonishment.
Bai Feng, noting their shock, explained: “This horse descends from generations of our finest steeds. Born with mismatched eyes, as fierce as a tiger, nearly impossible to tame. Even these five guards can only restrain it for now.”
“I present it to show reverence to Great Zhou, and to wish the young prince the strength of a tiger in the hunt. However…”
Zhao Jing frowned: “However what? Do you mean to retract your gift?”
Bai Feng shook his head with a smile: “Of course not. Only, the horse is so difficult to tame—I fear His Highness may not be able to use it immediately. Perhaps I should train it further first.”
Zhao Jing sneered at the beast: “It’s just an animal. You failed to tame it, that’s all. Guards, take it to my stables. Tomorrow I shall ride this beast myself to the hunt.”
“Let these petty envoys see what true grandeur of a great nation looks like.”