The next day, as expected, Dowager Consort Shu sent an attendant to deliver the imperial decree. Madam Su knew then that the matter was settled beyond doubt. The journey would last half a month, and since her daughter had rarely left her side, Madam Su worried deeply. Seizing the moment when Shu Yun returned to her quarters for a midday rest, she pinched her husband’s waist hard.
“This is all your fault. You never stand up for us, mother and daughter, and now we suffer losses because of it.”
Third Master Shu, both ashamed and angry, slapped himself several times. “Yes, yes, it’s my failing. I couldn’t protect you both…” After a pause, he added, “This afternoon I’ll go to the Hanlin Academy and speak with my old mentor, ask him to look after her.”
Madam Su sneered. “How could a teacher ever make things difficult for his student? It must be those arrogant princesses in the palace, or the haughty noble ladies of the capital, seizing the chance to mock our daughter.” Her heart ached. “This cannot go on. We must quickly find Yun’er a husband, so she can escape this mire of the Shu household.”
Talk of taking a son-in-law was merely to soothe Shu Yun. In truth, Madam Su thought it better to marry her into a respectable family, rather than leave her here to endure cold stares and daily torment.
Third Master nodded, his brows tightening. “I’ve been considering it these past days. I’ll select a proper student from the Imperial Academy and arrange a match for Yun’er. And besides, the matter of adoption must also be brought forward.”
In the end, it all came down to the fact that the third branch had no sons, and so they were easy to bully.
Thinking of her inability to bear another child, Madam Su’s eyes reddened. She tugged at his sleeve and lowered her gaze. “It’s my failing body that has dragged you down…”
“Nonsense.” Third Master quickly pulled his wife into his arms. “You bore me children, and only then did your health suffer. You mustn’t blame yourself.”
Madam Su leaned against his chest with a sigh. “Adoption is not so simple. It’s easy enough to choose a child from the Linchuan clan, but the real difficulty lies with the Old Madam. She insists that I am barren and is determined to force a concubine upon you. Even if you try to reason with her, the clan elders will surely take her side.”
This was not a matter that could be settled in a few words. Third Master Shu grew troubled, but seeing the desolation in his wife’s brows, he spoke with firm resolve: “Leave these matters to me. You must focus on your health. As for Yun’er, she may be a little naïve, but she is not foolish—she knows how to protect herself.”
His pale words of comfort did little to ease Madam Su’s heart. Still anxious, she personally prepared Shu Yun’s travel trunk that afternoon, filling it with admonitions, and at the end tucked in a stack of small-denomination banknotes and several gold ingots. “We are not short of silver now. Don’t be stingy—slip some favors to those palace eunuchs. Even if they must obey the Dowager Consort and the princesses in public, in private they will look after you.”
Though Shu Yun felt uncertain, she smiled brightly before her mother. “Mother, this has its advantages as well. After all, I am serving as a companion reader to the princess. Later, it may even help when arranging a marriage.”
These words brought Madam Su a measure of relief.
On the morning of the seventeenth day of the second month, before dawn broke, Shu Yun rose and set out with her father.
Madam Su, wrapped in a long coat, stood beneath the window watching her daughter depart, tears slipping from the corner of her eyes. “How I long to shield her from wind and rain. Yet I cannot stay by her side forever. I must harden my heart and let her face trials, let her see the treachery of human hearts. Only then will she not be so easily deceived in the future.”
Such is the sorrow of all parents under heaven.
Nanny Shan tried to console her. “The young lady is blessed; Heaven will surely protect her. Perhaps she will even meet a benefactor who will shelter her. Besides, if anything were to happen, Dowager Consort Shu would not escape blame. She is no fool—she will not invite trouble upon herself. You may rest easy.”
Third Master Shu personally escorted Shu Yun to Tonghua Gate, where an attendant was waiting to lead her to Dowager Consort Shu’s quarters. Shu Yun had arrived early and encountered no one else along the way, yawning as she followed the long palace path to the Dowager Consort’s Xian’an Palace.
Dowager Consort Shu appeared kindly enough, gifting Shu Yun a set of brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone, then ordered the palace servants to take the two girls to the Yinghua Hall. On this first day, no one dared arrive late. By the time they entered, small groups had already gathered.
The main hall of Yinghua was vast, divided by a gauzy curtain: the left side for the men, the right for the women. Shu Yun, clutching her books and writing tools, turned to Princess Shuyue. “Your Highness, where shall we sit?”
The princess glanced around. The front two rows were already taken, and even the very last row had been claimed with ink and paper laid out. “Then let’s take the second-to-last row.”
Shu Yun breathed a sigh of relief and quickly chose a seat at the edge, setting down her books. She thought to herself: *This princess isn’t studious either—thank goodness she doesn’t want the front row.* The heir of Prince Huaiyang had once told her that the Emperor had forced him to sit in the very first row, and he spent the whole day showered in spit from the lecturers.
Once her things were arranged, Shu Yun curiously looked toward the front rows. Two young women stood out immediately.
“Your Highness, who is the lady seated at the very front?”
In the far left corner sat a girl in a violet gown, her hair piled high in a lofty cloud bun, adorned with gold pins and kingfisher feathers. Her attire was dazzling, her posture upright and unmoving—like a pine tree. One glance was enough to mark her as a model student, and Shu Yun shrank back in awe.
Another young woman caught Shu Yun’s eye: her profile was bright, with clear eyes and pearly teeth, a pearl ornament at the corner of her eye lending her a touch of charm. Every smile and frown carried a hint of allure. She wore a wide-sleeved brocade robe in the latest fashion and was exchanging greetings with those nearby.
Princess Shuyue slouched lazily onto her seat, following Shu Yun’s gaze. “Those two? They’re not princesses…” Her tone carried a trace of mockery, though she dared not speak loudly. Leaning close, she whispered, “That girl in violet is Li Ying, daughter of Chancellor Li. The one beside her is Xie Yun, Princess Yining, daughter of the Eldest Princess. They’re merely ministers’ daughters, yet they put on airs grander than a princess…” The last words were bitten out in a hiss of resentment.
Shu Yun vaguely recalled Wang Youjun mentioning these two before. To be so resented by Princess Shuyue meant they were formidable figures indeed. Shu Yun wisely resolved to keep her distance.
Soon, the Ninth and Tenth Princesses arrived—eldest among the Emperor Emeritus’s unmarried daughters. Everyone rose to pay respects. Amid the greetings, Shu Yun noticed how little regard Princess Shuyue commanded in the royal family; few bothered to offer her morning salutations.
Princess Shuyue seemed accustomed to such neglect, lying listlessly across her seat. Shu Yun, all the more cautious, kept her head down. In the vast academy, it seemed only the two of them remained idle.
Before long, shadows filled the men’s side of the hall. Shu Yun faintly heard the voice of Prince Huaiyang’s heir, Pei Jiangcheng, and even someone congratulating him on the New Year. Shu Yun rolled her eyes inwardly. At last the tutors arrived, and the noisy hall fell silent. Her ears finally found peace, and she let out a long breath.
Through the morning, she witnessed firsthand the sharpness of Li Ying and Xie Yun. Whenever the tutors posed a question, the two sparred with words, their arguments precise and well-informed. Both were contenders for the future empress’s seat; even the princesses present dared not oppose their brilliance.
Shu Yun managed to follow along through the morning, but by afternoon her eyelids grew heavy. She pinched her thigh hard several times to stay awake. When she forced her bleary eyes open, she saw that half the academy had already slumped over their desks.
Glancing at Princess Shuyue beside her—well, there it was: several lines of drool trailing from the corner of her mouth. Shu Yun’s guilty conscience vanished without a trace. She dared not be too blatant herself, so she propped her chin in her hands, buried her face, and pretended to read, drifting off to sleep with a clear conscience.
Whether the tutor was too absorbed in his lecture or simply of a patient temperament, Shu Yun could not tell. But when she awoke refreshed, he was still holding the book, reciting with measured cadence, his voice resonant and steady, as if oblivious to the scene below.
Thus the first day passed in a haze.
At dismissal, Shu Yun took the initiative to tidy Princess Shuyue’s books and handed them to a maid, then followed meekly behind the princess. She deliberately kept her head lowered, hoping to avoid Pei Jiangcheng’s notice and spare herself any trouble. But fate delights in irony: just as she stepped down the stairs, a voice behind her called out, nervous yet eager, “Sister Yun…”
The sound was both familiar and unfamiliar, neither close nor distant.
Shu Yun turned her head. Many students still lingered beneath the colonnade, exchanging courtesies. At their head, Pei Jiangcheng had already caught the call and cast a cool, indifferent glance in her direction.
Shu Yun cursed inwardly, but outwardly she smiled graciously and bent her knees in salute. “Greetings to the heir.”
Before her stood a young man with flushed cheeks, his expression shy and earnest. It was Pei Yansheng, heir of Prince Linchuan, whom she had met only twice before. Shu Yun did not know him and had no idea why he had come forward to greet her.
The heir of Prince Linchuan, Pei Yansheng, looked at her with eyes shining, his voice rising with excitement. “At lunch I thought I recognized that back figure—turns out it really was you, Sister Yun!”
Every “Sister Yun” made Shu Yun’s skin crawl. She quickly sought to distance herself. “Heir, it’s getting late. I must accompany the princess back…”
She glanced at Princess Shuyue beside her. The princess, clearly intrigued, let her gaze linger between them with deliberate curiosity, then stopped to ask, “Well now, how do you two know each other?”
Seeing Princess Shuyue bent on prying, Shu Yun felt a headache coming on. Just then, Pei Jiangcheng strode over with a cold face and tapped Pei Yansheng sharply on the back of the head. “In broad daylight, blocking a young lady’s way—what sort of conduct is that? Stop dawdling. Grandfather is waiting for us to report.”
Pei Yansheng bristled at Pei Jiangcheng’s interference, but when he saw Shu Yun standing far off, showing not the slightest inclination to respond, he could only bow his head and apologize. “Forgive me, I was too forward…”
Shu Yun, stiff with discomfort, tugged Princess Shuyue away.
Once they had gone, Pei Yansheng glared at Pei Jiangcheng. “Why did you hit me? You toy with her and cast her aside, yet you stop me from speaking to her?”
Pei Jiangcheng exhaled a breath of pent-up anger, lifting his eyes with a cold gleam. “What, have you taken a fancy to her?”
Pei Yansheng’s fair cheeks flushed crimson in an instant, his words stumbling in flustered haste. “I—I… what business is it of yours!”
Pei Jiangcheng, disgusted by his cousin’s lack of composure, seized his arm with irritation. “Fine fellow you are—just one glance at her in my house last time, and you’ve been pining ever since. So you mean to steal my woman?”
Ashamed and angry, Pei Yansheng shook off his grip. “Don’t twist things. Others may think you disgraced yourself while drunk, but do you remember what you told me before? You only fancy her looks and want to bully her…”
Seeing him on the verge of exposing his secrets, Pei Jiangcheng tightened his hold on Pei Yansheng’s shoulder with greater force.
Pei Yansheng knew his cousin was enraged and feared the quarrel might spiral out of control. He quickly shifted his tone. “Enough. You have your new flame now—I won’t press the matter. But let me be frank: I truly like Sister Yun. If you won’t marry her, then I’ll go to her family and propose.”
At this, Pei Jiangcheng released him, a cold laugh curling from his lips. “Your mother, with her lofty pride—do you think she would ever approve of her?”
The barb struck home. Pei Yansheng’s face darkened with wounded pride. He brushed him off angrily and stalked away.
Back at Xian’an Palace, Princess Shuyue began probing Shu Yun with endless questions. Shu Yun had no choice but to explain that she barely knew Pei Yansheng, having only encountered him once at Prince Huaiyang’s residence. Princess Shuyue studied Shu Yun’s face and suddenly understood.
With such beauty, it was no wonder men fell for her at first sight. Shu Yun had just broken off an engagement, and already someone was rushing forward to court her—truly fortunate.
Thinking of herself, seventeen years old and still unmarried, Princess Shuyue felt a pang of discontent. And when she was displeased, she often looked for ways to trouble Shu Yun. Yet she was clever enough to veil her words.
“You’re new here, so you must be diligent. It’s nearly time for supper—why not accompany Baihe to the imperial kitchens to fetch the food boxes? She can tell you the palace rules and help you learn the layout, so you won’t lose your way in the future.”
Shu Yun had no room to refuse. Soon she changed into a pale lotus-pink robe and followed the maid Baihe toward the imperial kitchens.
As they walked, Shu Yun sensed something was wrong. The path grew increasingly remote. Though she had never been to the imperial kitchens, she knew they were always bustling—hardly a place that would be deserted. Just as suspicion rose, the palace maid suddenly quickened her pace. Crossing through a weathered moon gate, she vanished in the blink of an eye.
Shu Yun looked around the empty, desolate garden and gave a wry smile. Annoyed but not alarmed, she reminded herself that she was Dowager Consort Shu’s niece. Surely the Dowager Consort would not truly let harm befall her. This was no more than an attempt to frighten her. So Shu Yun strolled back at leisure, pondering how best to put an end to Princess Shuyue’s mischief.
The sky was dimming, streaked with a band of fiery clouds along the palace wall. Only then did Shu Yun realize she had wandered near the Xuanwu Gate.
The towering palace wall stretched east to west. Evening wind poured through the open gate, and she glimpsed guards gathered along the passageway. Beyond the Xuanwu Gate lay the imperial hunting grounds. The wind here was sharp as blades, stinging her cheeks. Covering her mouth, she coughed lightly behind a tree. Enough—no use exhausting herself. Better to find someone to ask directions.
Turning, she spotted three figures walking along a stone path. She hurried after them, though the leader’s stride was so swift she struggled to keep up. His tall, broad back loomed like a mountain peak. Breathless, she called out urgently: “Brother, pardon me—may I ask the way…”
At the sound of her clear voice, all three turned at once.
The last glow of sunset lit the man’s sharply defined features, a face so striking it seemed almost unreal.
Seeing him clearly, Shu Yun froze, then stumbled back two steps in shock.