So, they were waiting for her here.
A sly glint flashed in Jiang Nian’s eyes as she nodded solemnly: “Rest assured, this consort will never let Young Master Huo lose face.”
She would only make sure he lost it completely.
Yu Yang steadied himself, suppressing the flicker of doubt that had crossed his mind. Yes, this was still the Jiang Nian of old—just a few words about his master’s hardships, and she would rush to curry favor.
But their young master was noble in spirit. If not for his lowly birth and constant suppression, he would never have lowered himself to deal with a shameless woman like Jiang Nian. Only the fourth Miss of the Jiang family, Jiang Ran—cultured, gentle, and virtuous—could barely be considered a match for him.
Having delivered his message, Yu Yang was unwilling to linger. “Since that is so, I shall take my leave.”
“Very well.”
The black brocade faded into the night. Lian Zhi looked at Jiang Nian with worry. “Your Ladyship, do you truly mean to help Young Master Huo?”
These past days, her relationship with His Majesty had finally begun to mend. Lian Zhi feared her mistress might once again be led astray and incur his wrath.
“Don’t worry, Lian Zhi.” Jiang Nian’s brows arched with confidence. “In the past, I was foolish, always being used as Huo Fan’s pawn. But now I am clear-headed. Since Huo Fan has handed me this opportunity, shouldn’t I make good use of it?”
Judging the hour, Qi Yi should be returning to the camp soon. Jiang Nian avoided the crowded paths and hurried back. Lifting the curtain, she saw the black dragon robe draped before the imperial desk. Against it, Qi Yi’s complexion looked even paler. The flickering candlelight danced in his eyes, making his expression unreadable.
Jiang Nian’s heart skipped. Before leaving, Qi Yi had ordered her to remain quietly in the camp and not go anywhere. Now she had been caught red-handed. Surely he would be angry. She glanced at Rong Chengguang, who gave her a reassuring look.
Gathering her courage, Jiang Nian approached with a playful smile, leaning against the desk. “Your Majesty returned so soon? Was the banquet too dull?” Her smile was bright and innocent, impossible to scold.
Qi Yi looked at those overly luminous eyes, then turned back to his desk. “You laugh so freely. The old master of the troupe claimed the place was cursed, that they’d run into evil spirits, and insisted on moving the shadow play elsewhere.”
Jiang Nian froze. She had thought she was far enough away that no one would hear her laughter, but apparently the old master’s ears were sharp indeed.
It was her fault. Flustered, she whispered in defense: “This consort admits her mistake. But it wasn’t entirely my fault—the shadow play was simply too amusing. Even more so than the first one we watched together. I couldn’t help myself.”
Qi Yi set down his brush and looked at her, his face unreadable.
Under his gaze, Jiang Nian’s thoughts spiraled. She had frightened the old master tonight—what if tomorrow the troupe faltered before the foreign envoys? Wouldn’t that disgrace His Majesty?
Aware she had made a grave mistake, Jiang Nian felt a pang of regret. She admitted softly: “Your consort knows her fault. I will not act rashly again. Please, Your Majesty, do not be angry with me, all right?”
She leaned close—though separated by fabric, the warmth of her touch pressed against Qi Yi’s waist. She had grown a little fuller, unlike that time in Fu Garden when he held her and felt only bones. The southern cooks truly had skill; even someone as picky as she had been eating more. Yet perhaps she had been indulged too much—always leaning against him so freely.
Qi Yi raised a hand and coughed lightly, uncomfortable, his tone stern: “Do your duty properly. Do not overstep. And do not lean on me.”
Disappointed, Jiang Nian sat back, answering obediently: “Your consort understands.”
Having erred today, she feared further reproach. Through the latter half of the night, she dared not be bold again, sitting properly at the bedside to keep watch.
Fortunately, the cushions by His Majesty’s bed were of fine wool, comfortable even when seated.
The candles burned out, leaving the tent in darkness. After such a long day, Jiang Nian soon grew drowsy. Yet afraid of another mistake, she forced herself to stay awake.
Drifting in and out, she finally could not endure. She whispered cautiously: “Your Majesty… Your Majesty… are you asleep?”
The bed remained quiet. Believing him asleep, Jiang Nian relaxed, her head tilting as she sank into slumber.
The brocade quilt dipped beside her. Qi Yi extended his hand, steadying the round curve of her head. Her hairpin slipped free, and her dark hair spilled like a waterfall across the quilt, a few strands slipping beneath, brushing against the back of his hand. It tickled, and it burned. Qi Yi felt as though a fire had ignited in his palm, growing hotter and hotter.
Outside, Chun Sheng peeked curiously into the tent. Rong Chengguang kicked his apprentice hard, scolding: “Bold, are you? Daring to spy on His Majesty’s camp now?”
Clutching his sore backside, Chun Sheng shook his head: “Master, I was wrong. I won’t dare again. I was only curious—His Majesty usually dislikes attendants at bedtime. Why tonight does he keep someone by his side?”
Rong Chengguang, knowing Chun Sheng could never keep a secret, kicked him again and snapped: “What business is it of yours how His Majesty chooses? Out here is not the palace. Leaving someone inside to serve is perfectly normal.”
Seeing his master truly angry, Chun Sheng dared not ask further. He pleaded: “I spoke too much, Master, forgive me. I wasn’t only curious—the old master of the troupe asked me whether they are to perform at tomorrow’s banquet. I thought to ask His Majesty.”
Rong Chengguang straightened his robes and ordered: “There is no need. At dawn tomorrow, carriages will send them away.”
Chun Sheng blinked in confusion: “Send them away tomorrow? But they didn’t perform tonight. Does His Majesty not intend to watch the shadow play?”
Rong Chengguang fumed, despairing at his foolish apprentice: “A royal banquet—what need for shadow plays? His Majesty ought to cut off your head, save wasting those five taels of silver.”
Chun Sheng still did not understand. If His Majesty would not watch, why summon the troupe at all? But fearing another kick, he kept silent and withdrew, aggrieved.
Watching his limping apprentice retreat, Rong Chengguang shook his head helplessly: “Those who wished to see have already seen. What use keeping them any longer?”