1
Summer of the third year of the Suihe era.
Within the Jiang residence, deep trees cast heavy layers of green shadows. Winding corridors peeked in and out among the thick foliage, making it easy for anyone walking among them to remain unnoticed.
Mu Mingtang stood behind a cluster of trees, dressed in a pale blue cross-collared robe with silver patterns, paired with a six-panel pleated skirt. The two people outside were engrossed in their conversation and did not notice her.
Her attire was naturally light, blending into the dappled shadows of the trees, so it truly wasn’t easy to spot her without looking closely. But Mu Mingtrang knew the real reason was this: Prince of Jin, having lost and regained his old love, was simply overjoyed. His usual vigilance had deserted him, making him unaware that someone stood behind the trees.
“Brother Jie, I was the one who wronged you back then. Blame my delusion, I was deceived by evil people, not only misunderstanding you but also abandoning my parents and running away from home. Fortunately, you’ve been well this past year. Otherwise, I truly…”
The woman in green suddenly choked up, unable to continue. She wore no makeup, and her attired and adornments were plain and unadorned. At first glance, she wasn’t stunning, but the longer you looked, the more elegantly beautiful she became, the more she grew on you. Her large eyes and high brow gave her a somewhat strong-willed and stubborn appearance. Now that her eyes brimmed with tears, which she tried hard not to let fall, she looked especially pitiful.
Xie Xuanji’s heart ached for her. He couldn’t help but step closer and grasp the woman’s arms, wanting to hold her tight but restraining himself, afraid of being improper. “Mingwei, it’s all right. Just having you back is what matters. Your place in the Jiang family has been kept for you all these years. As long as you return, nothing will have changed.”
The woman called Mingwei let her tears fall in a silent stream. “But Brother Jie, I’m no longer worthy of you. Back then, I was deceived by the Rong people. I don’t know how I fell into such delusion—doubting your intentions, even fleeing on our wedding night during the Lantern Festival. I’ve done a lot of thinking this past year, but the clearer things became, the more afraid I grew to come back and face you. Even though the Rong people were the ones who coerced me, ultimately it was my own lack of judgment. The situation I’m in now is my own doing, and I can blame no one else. Knowing that you’re doing well is already enough for me, I dare not hope for anything more. I heard that you’ve become engaged to her. That’s good, I’m sure she’ll take good care of you in my place.”
“No, Mingwei.” Xie Xuanji seemed anxious, taking another step closer until he was nearly pressed against Jiang Mingwei. He bent to look into her eyes, his gaze intense and deep. “I told you, as long as you return, I will always be here. The reason the marriage contract was transferred to Jiang Mingtang was merely because the imperial edict had already been announced to the world. Uncle Jiang couldn’t defy the emperor’s decree, so he had no choice but to acknowledge a foster daughter from outside the family to come and take your place. But the real is real, and the fake is fake. Now that you’ve returned, why would we still need a substitute? The Princess of Jin will always be you and only you.”
“But I was captured by the Rong people and went missing for an entire year. The imperial family values chastity above all else. I know I’m still pure, but who would believe it? If I married you, wouldn’t I only bring you ridicule and shame?”
Jiang Mingwei seemed both ashamed and embarrassed by the end, unable to stop herself from lowering her head, revealing a slender stretch of her neck. Upon hearing this, however, Xie Xuanji was overjoyed. Always gentle and self-possessed, he now couldn’t help but laugh aloud, almost losing his composure as he pulled Jiang Mingwei into his arms. “Wonderful, Mingwei! Do you know how happy your words just now made me? That you haven’t belonged to any other man, that you are still a maiden—I’m overjoyed. You can rest assured. Aside from you, me, Uncle Jiang, and Auntie Jiang, no one else will ever know about the year you were missing. If outsiders ask, just say you were recuperating in another city. As for my father the Emperor and my mother the Empress, I will handle them. All you need to do is prepare for our wedding with peace of mind.”
Jiang Mingwei’s face turned crimson at Xie Xuanji’s words, her cheeks blooming with blushes. After a moment, as if suddenly struck by a thought, her expression dimmed slightly, and she gently pushed Xie Xuanji away. “Brother Jie, I am deeply moved by your feelings for me. But now, I am no longer worthy of you. Your betrothed has become someone else—someone more obedient than me, more filial than me, someone who doesn’t vex her parents the way I did. My parents must have adopted her because they found her more attentive and more suitable as a daughter. Now that the marriage contract has changed hands, I should have the good sense to walk far away. If I reappear, I would only disrupt your union and displease the Second Miss.”
“Mingwei, what nonsense are you talking?” Xie Xuanji said coldly, without a trace of hesitation. “I have never had any feelings for her. I have always treated her merely as your substitute. It’s the same for Uncle Jiang and the others. If it weren’t for her bearing a slight resemblance to you, how could a lowly refugee like her ever have entered the Jiang family’s doors? She was just a displaced person fleeing hardship. Enjoying a year of wealth and comfort in the Jiang household is already incredible fortune for her. If she’s grateful and knows her place, fine. But if she oversteps her bounds and dares to scheme against you, I will not let her off.”
Jiang Mingwei’s eyes glistened with tears. Her usually strong eyes brimmed with moisture, threatening to fall but not yet doing so. “Brother Jie…”
“Mingwei.” Xie Xuanji’s heart shattered at the sight of her tearful eyes. Unable to stop himself, he held her tightly. “Just having you back is enough. Uncle Jiang and I have waited for you for an entire year. Now, it’s time for everything to return to its rightful place, for all things to go back to their original owners.”
…
How touching. A faint smile tugged at the corners of Mu Mingtang’s lips, but the more she smiled, the more she felt like a complete joke. Childhood sweethearts, growing up together, only to miss each other due to a misunderstanding. And now, after all the twists and turns, they were finally reunited, confessing their true feelings and clearing up their misunderstandings. What would come next, presumably, would be a wedding blessed by both families, followed by a lifetime of happiness.
What a moving scene. What an enviable love. And Mu Mingtang? She was nothing more than the interloper between these childhood sweethearts—an upstart substitute who didn’t know her place, the only outsider in the entire affair.
The “her” that Jiang Mingwei spoke of, the “substitute” that Xie Xuanji mentioned—that was Mu Mingtang.
As Xie Xuanji had said, Mu Mingtang truly did not come from a distinguished background. Especially compared to these two standing before her. Xie Xuanji was an imperial prince, already enfeoffed as the Prince of Jin. The other, Jiang Mingwei, was the daughter of a high-ranking official, childhood sweethearts with Xie Xuanji, having grown up alongside him. And Mu Mingtang? She wasn’t even from the capital.
She was originally from Xiangyang. Her family was neither a scholarly lineage nor an official household, but rather merchants—steeped in the stench of coin. Though her origins were humble, fortunately her parents were loving and the family was well-off. Mu Mingtang grew up smoothly under her parents’ care until the age of twelve. Her life’s trajectory should have been just like that of countless ordinary small-town girls—an average family, doting parents, growing up step by step in an orderly fashion, then marrying an ordinary young man upon reaching adulthood, having children, and forming a modest little family.
For the first half of her life, Mu Mingtang followed that exact path. But in her twelfth year, that peace was shattered.
In the third year of the Hongjia era, Xiangyang was besieged. After resisting for a few days, seeing the ferocity of the Jie people’s advance, the prefect—a coward who feared for his life, actually abandoned the great city of Xiangyang and its innocent civilians, fleeing the city under cover of night. When he left, he also took all of the city’s elite troops and weapons. Without arms or leadership, Xiangyang fell without a fight. The Jie people entered the city and carried out a brutal massacre. Mu Mingtang’s parents were killed by the Jie while trying to shield Mu Mingtang and help her escape the city.
But even that sacrifice was in vain. In the end, Mu Mingtang never made it out of Xiangyang. The world, after all, was filled with ordinary people. Mu Mingtang possessed neither the martial arts to scale walls and rooftops nor the wisdom to remain calm in a crisis. She was discovered by the Jie people halfway through her escape. She nearly followed her parents into death, but fortunately, the Marquis of Wu’an entered the city, and she was spared.
After that, Mu Mingtang, along with a tide of refugees, fled northward in search of a place to survive. With her hometown destroyed, Mu Mingtang fell overnight from being the daughter of a prosperous merchant family to a penniless refugee whom anyone could trample upon. She was a girl—barely twelve or thirteen, with no small measure of beauty. What she would encounter on the road went without saying.
The journey was extremely arduous. Fortunately, she later encountered Granny Zhou, who had also lost her home and family. Granny Zhou protected her under the guise of being her grandmother, and only then was Mu Mingtang able to survive, intact, and make it all the way to Yingtian Prefecture.
Later, Mu Mingtang and Granny Zhou stopped in Chenliu, planning to start a new life. Though Mu Mingtang and Granny Zhou were strangers at first, after the perilous journey north, Mu Mingtang truly came to regard Granny Zhou as her own grandmother, planning to care for her in her old age and bury her when the time came. The two of them relied on each other, taking in any work they could find—sewing, laundry, weaving bamboo strips. But just as life was beginning to improve, Granny Zhou collapsed from exhaustion and overwork.
Mu Mingtang spent every penny she had seeking medical help for Granny Zhou, but Granny Zhou didn’t make it. She died before spring even arrived. After Granny Zhou passed, Mu Mingtang wept bitterly, wanting to give her a dignified burial. Heroes rise in chaotic times, but they were nothing more than ordinary people—the most ordinary of ordinary folk. They had no martial prowess to charge into battle, no leadership talent to rally an army. They could only survive like weeds, clinging to life. Granny Zhou had lived without dignity—at least after death, she could leave this world with some decency.
But even that humble wish, it seemed, the heavens would not grant Mu Mingtang. After Granny Zhou died, the pawnshop owner, noticing Mu Mingtang’s beauty, conceived wicked intentions. He accused her of theft in front of the entire street, asking how else a weak young woman like her could produce items to pawn from time to time.
Furious, Mu Mingtang cursed him out right there in the street. The refugee trail had forged her into iron and sinew—she was sharp-tongued and vicious when she fought back. The pawnshop owner, repeatedly bested in their war of words, was hopping mad and couldn’t resist laying hands on her. Mu Mingtang had long since shed any girlish naivety or reserve in order to survive this long; she bit and clawed and brawled right back. In the midst of the struggle, a group of guards dressed in fine attire stepped in and stopped them.
As the guards pulled Mu Mingtang and the pawnshop owner apart, she had no idea what was happening. But one look at their clothing told her these were people she could not afford to cross. Those who live hand-to-mouth know which way the wind blows. Mu Mingtang immediately reined in her fury, lowering her head without a word of defiance. It was then that a maidservant descended from a lavish carriage that had stopped at a distance. The maidservant wore a clean blue-gray ru-style dress, her hair pulled back tightly, and even the soles of her shoes were cleaner than Mu Mingtang’s face. The maidservant took one look at Mu Mingtang and seemed to sneer with disdain. Then, pinching her nose, she said, “Your ancestors must be smiling down on you from heaven—you’ve hit the jackpot. Come with me. Our madam wants to see you.”
A woman who could be addressed as “madam” was no ordinary person. And judging by the fact that she had a carriage and could command guards, she was likely connected to the government. Trembling with fear, Mu Mingtang followed along. Only later did she realize that her humble background had not only limited her experience but also her imagination. The people who had stopped her that day were not just government officials—they were, in fact, the wife of the Deputy Commissioner of the Three Bureaus in the capital.
The Three Bureaus jointly managed salt and iron, revenue and expenditure, and household registration. Known as the “Department of Finance,” it was the highest institution overseeing the nation’s finances. The Deputy Commissioner of the Three Bureaus was the second-in-command of the Department of Finance. To put it in terms Mu Mingtang could understand, he was essentially the deputy to the chancellor who managed the nation’s finances—essentially a vice-chancellor.
Mu Mingtang never imagined that simply getting into a fight would land her right in front of the wife of a vice-chancellor. Madam Jiang studied Mu Mingtang for a moment, then ordered her people to take her back. And so, in a daze, trembling with fear, Mu Mingtang made her way to the capital. She bathed for a long time that night, changed into fresh clothes the next day, and was brought before Madam Jiang and Lord Jiang.
Lord Jiang looked her over for a long moment, then nodded faintly to his wife. “Do as you say.”
Do as she said? What had Madam Jiang said?
Mu Mingtang did not understand. But soon, she would.
From that moment, her life was turned upside down. She was taken in as Madam Jiang’s foster daughter, becoming the second daughter of Jiang Honghao, the Deputy Commissioner of the Three Bureaus—Jiang Mingtang. That was an undisputed noble lady, a daughter of a distinguished official family!
Having crawled and clawed her way through the refugee masses, how could Mu Mingtang have ever imagined such a transformation? The gap between merchants, commoners, and officials was like a chasm. Even the daughter of a lowly legal advisor in Xiangyang’s prefectural office was someone the Mu family would have to step carefully around, let alone the daughter of a vice-chancellor in the central court.
Mu Mingtang’s ascent had been so swift that even she was terrified. As the saying goes, children of noble families are neither humble nor arrogant, while small-minded people who suddenly rise to power become insufferable. Mu Mingtang could fully understand that mentality. She was so terrified of losing all of this that she did whatever Madam Jiang told her to do, and she followed whatever the maidservants instructed.
Later, Mu Mingtang learned that Madam Jiang had been in Chenliu that day because she was searching for her missing eldest daughter, Jiang Mingwei.
The maids all told the same story—that during the Lantern Festival, the crowds had been too overwhelming, and the young lady had gotten lost while out looking at the lanterns. Even though Mu Mingtang had never been part of officialdom, she could sense that something about this story didn’t add up. She herself had been a merchant’s daughter. When she went out to see the lanterns, her parents always arranged for maids and chaperones to accompany her. Could Madam Jiang, the mother of a proper noble daughter, have been so careless with her guards? And yet, Jiang Mingwei had gotten lost. Regardless of how it happened, Madam Jiang said that was the truth, and so it was. Madam Jiang had searched all the way to Chenliu. She found no trace of her daughter, but her eyes did happen to fall upon Mu Mingtang in the street.
Mu Mingtang, at that moment cursing and fighting, had been very conspicuous. After watching for a while, Madam Jiang noticed that Mu Mingtang was close in age to her missing daughter, and even their facial features bore a certain resemblance.
And so, Madam Jiang brought Mu Mingtang back. Jiang Honghao saw her and, thinking it was as good a solution as any under the circumstances, agreed. Afterward, Mu Mingtang was adopted by the Jiang family, her surname changed, and she was recorded as the second young lady—a substitute for the missing eldest daughter, Jiang Mingwei.
Mu Mingtang knew her place from the very beginning. Her new parents missed their beloved daughter deeply. Having searched for so long without result, they wanted to place a lookalike before their eyes as a small comfort. Mu Mingtang understood this completely, and so she willingly became another person’s shadow—wearing the colors Jiang Mingwei liked, living in the rooms Jiang Mingwei once occupied, learning to speak like Jiang Mingwei, learning to walk like Jiang Mingwei.
Little by little, she erased the traits that belonged to Mu Mingtang. Madam Jiang looked down on her crudeness and found her fighting in the streets beneath their dignity, so Mu Mingtang broke the claws and teeth she had honed during those chaotic years. She became gentle, obedient, careful to hide her smile and her steps. No matter what she said, it was soft and unhurried.
She hid her true nature entirely, forcibly transforming herself into another person’s likeness. She was terrified of being thrown out of the Jiang residence. She was frightened of going back to that life of uncertainty, of fighting with stray dogs over scraps. In times of chaos, dignity was a useless thing—let alone imitating another person.
Mu Mingtang was confined and intensively trained for an entire year before she was finally molded into the image of a noble lady that Madam Jiang desired. It was easy to imitate the skin, but far harder to copy the bones. Naturally, she could not compare to Jiang Mingwei, who had been born into wealth and privilege—her learning and her manner of speech fell far short. But when she stood still and said nothing, Mu Mingtang had already acquired something of Jiang Mingwei’s shadow.
Madam Jiang was grudgingly satisfied. In March of this year, she officially presented Mu Mingtang to society, making her status clear. Only then did Mu Mingtang truly understand why the Jiang family had adopted a foster daughter, and why Madam Jiang had been so anxious to train her so quickly.
It turned out that the glory of the Jiang family was not limited to Jiang Honghao’s position in the Department of Finance. Jiang Mingwei had also been betrothed to an imperial prince by imperial edict.
The emperor’s words were never taken back, much less an edict of betrothal. Jiang Mingwei had disappeared without a trace during last year’s Lantern Festival. She might have found her own freedom easily, but that left the Jiang family in an impossible position. Madam Jiang had personally chased after her all the way to Chenliu, partly out of concern for her daughter, but also for the sake of the marriage alliance between the Jiang family and the Prince of Jin.
The Prince of Jin was a son of the legitimate empress, renowned for his virtue, and was widely regarded in court as the leading candidate for the position of heir apparent. Had the emperor not remembered that he and the Jiang family had been neighbors before his ascension to the throne, he would never have bestowed such an immense honor upon the Jiang household. Jiang Mingwei’s fleeing from the marriage—of course, “fleeing” was Mu Mingtang’s own word; Madam Jiang insisted her daughter had been abducted—turned the emperor’s favor into a death warrant for Jiang Honghao.
When Jiang Honghao learned that Jiang Mingwei had disappeared, he flew into a rage and immediately declared that he no longer had a daughter named Jiang Mingwei, refusing to send anyone to pursue her. Madam Jiang, heartbroken for her daughter and pained by her husband’s coldness, took matters into her own hands since her husband would not. As fate would have it, she happened upon Mu Mingtang. Desperate and out of options, Madam Jiang devised a scheme of substituting one person for another.
Madam Jiang hoped that Jiang Mingwei had simply acted on a whim and would return once her impulse faded. If she did not return, or if time ran out, then having Mu Mingtang take her place would at least be a remedy of sorts. After all, the emperor had decreed a marriage between the Prince of Jin and the daughter of Jiang Honghao. He had not explicitly specified that it had to be Jiang Mingwei. Once Mu Mingtang was adopted, she could at least be considered a daughter of Jiang Honghao.
In March, Madam Jiang finally abandoned all hope of Jiang Mingwei’s return and formally introduced her second daughter, “Jiang Mingtang,” to the wives of the capital’s officials. In April, Mu Mingtang and the Prince of Jin, Xie Xuanji, met briefly from behind a screen under the watchful eyes of their elders. This served as their premarital introduction, and both silently accepted the union.
In Mu Mingtang’s opinion, the Prince of Jin’s devotion to Jiang Mingwei was truly sincere, and his heart was clear for all to see. Jiang Mingwei had fled from their marriage, suspected of eloping. Yet the prince, as both an imperial son and her betrothed, did not fly into a rage. Instead, he quietly helped Madam Jiang search for Jiang Mingwei. Later, as the wedding date approached, Xie Xuanji accepted without hesitation the imitation that the Jiang family had arranged for him.
Mu Mingtang was moved by such devotion. As a substitute, she knew her place very well. She understood that in Madam Jiang’s eyes and heart, she was always looking at and thinking of her own daughter. Even the way the Prince of Jin looked at her was searching for the parts of her that resembled Jiang Mingwei. To be able to enjoy fine clothing and rich food in this life, and to ultimately become a princess—Mu Mingtang was already deeply grateful and apprehensive. She was not greedy, nor would she ever dare to hope for the prince’s love.
She had already prepared herself to live her entire life as Jiang Mingwei’s shadow. Before marriage, she would be a filial daughter who resembled Jiang Mingwei in spirit but was even more docile. After marriage, she would be the projection of the pure, untouchable love in the prince’s heart. As for who Mu Mingtang truly was, what she liked, what kind of person she had once been—none of that mattered.
Who could have known that on this very day, during the birthday banquet the Jiang couple had arranged for Mu Mingtang, the real Jiang Mingwei would suddenly appear?
Jiang Mingwei did not appear before anyone, but Mu Mingtang noticed that the Prince of Jin had suddenly disappeared. An inexplicable intuition told her something was wrong. She quietly followed after him, never expecting to overhear such a touching scene.
She stood behind the shadows of the trees, listening for a long time to the heartfelt confession between the devoted prince and his pure white moonlight. She thought their love was truly magnificent.
The prince’s depth of feeling, his single-hearted devotion to his beloved—it was moving.
So, what about her, then? What about this crude substitute, this lowly refugee—how would she be disposed of?
Mu Mingtang didn’t want to listen any longer. She turned and walked back. Halfway there, a maidservant who had come out looking for her caught up. The maid raised her eyebrows in disdain at the sight of her. “Second Miss, Madam said you shouldn’t wander off. How can you never remember?”
The maid had come from a different direction and hadn’t seen the figures behind the trees. Xie Xuanji and Jiang Mingwei, however, both fell silent at the sound of her voice. Xie Xuanji’s expression changed. He quickly stepped around the obstruction and saw a pale blue figure slowly receding in the corridor. Silver frost-flowers were embroidered on her outer robe, draped over the light blue silk like frost on a cloud.
Always dressed in cool, refined shades of green, blue, and white. Always carrying that air of detachment—a passerby in this world with no kindred spirit in sight. From Xie Xuanji’s perspective, that silhouette really did resemble Jiang Mingwei.
But Xie Xuanji knew it was not her. He frowned slightly. Why had she come?
The maidservant, of course, went on and on about how Mu Mingtang wasn’t ladylike enough, elegant enough. Mu Mingtang bore it all. She hadn’t thought about it before, but only today did she realize that even a mere maidservant in the Jiang household dared to openly disdain her.
And why not? She was just a substitute. An imitation of Jiang Mingwei. A stand-in for the pure white moonlight of the prince’s heart. She had tried to copy them, but the result was clumsy and awkward—very much like the ugly woman from the old story who furrowed her brows trying to imitate the famous beauty.
The maidservant chattered on endlessly, but Mu Mingtang let it go in one ear and out the other. She didn’t argue. She didn’t respond. She waited quietly for the Jiang family to decide her fate.
She had thought that by evening, Jiang Honghao or at the very least, Madam Jiang would send someone to speak with her. But Mu Mingtang realized that people really shouldn’t overestimate themselves. She waited for a long time, yet no one came to see her at all. The only person who appeared was an elderly nanny, who said to her coldly, “Second Miss, this is the First Miss’s room. The First Miss doesn’t like others touching her things. Please move out.”
Mu Mingtang was stunned for a moment. Then she stood up and nodded. “That’s only reasonable. This was always my elder sister’s room. Now that she has returned, I have no reason to keep occupying it. I’ll pack my things right away.”
“That won’t be necessary.” The nanny’s eyelids drooped as she looked down at Mu Mingtang with cold indifference. “Every object in this room belongs to the First Miss. Even the clothes are hers. You need only walk out yourself, Second Miss.”
Mu Mingtang reminded herself that the Jiang family had taken her in after all. They had given her fine clothes and rich food, a spacious home to shelter her for this past year. So, she swallowed the humiliation, said nothing, and left the room she had lived in for a year in a manner bordering on disgraceful expulsion, moving instead to a cold, unfurnished guest room. Her year as a refugee had already taught Mu Mingtang the cold realities of human relationships and the subtle hierarchies of status. She had become practical and shrewd. What did losing face matter? Living well was enough.
She thought that, having been this sensible, the Jiang family would at least have someone come and exchange a few polite pleasantries with her.
But as it turned out, Mu Mingtang had still overestimated her own importance. She was left in the guest room, ignored completely, for three days. Around noon on the fourth day, someone finally came to fetch her: “Second Miss, the master summons you.”
Mu Mingtang tidied herself up and, like an obedient, well-behaved gift, made her way to the study. Inside, Jiang Honghao was already seated. To her surprise, Xie Xuanji was there as well.
Mu Mingtang’s gaze swept over them only briefly before she looked away. With perfect ladylike composure, she bowed to Jiang Honghao. “Father.”
As for Xie Xuanji—they had once been betrothed, but now they were not. Since that was the case, Mu Mingtang had no reason to speak with an unrelated man. Jiang Honghao had not given her permission, so she could not voluntarily greet Xie Xuanji.
“Hmm.” Jiang Honghao merely nodded. He looked at the young woman before him, thinking of what was about to happen, and for once felt a trace of pity. Regardless, she had lodged in the Jiang household for a year. In a couple of days, when she married out, he would prepare a bit more dowry for her.
Jiang Honghao was quite pleased with his own benevolence. Stroking his beard, he said, “I expect you already know that your elder sister has returned. The Prince of Jin’s marriage contract was always with Mingwei. Having you take her place was a measure of last resort. You do understand that, don’t you?”
Mu Mingtang lowered her head meekly. “I understand, Father.”
“Good. But rest assured—now that you have become my foster daughter, I will certainly not treat you unfairly. The Prince of Jin petitioned His Majesty a few days ago, and today His Majesty approved it. You are to be married into the Prince of Qiyang’s manor.”
Jiang Honghao smiled as he spoke. “Although you are my foster daughter, the Jiang family is not the sort to favor one over another. After you marry into the Prince of Qiyang’s manor, you will still be a princess consort. In the future, you and your elder sister will become sisters-in-law within the imperial clan. You must support each other and look out for one another, so as not to disappoint your father’s teachings. Your present fortune is truly extraordinary.”
Mu Mingtang was stunned for a long moment before she finally registered what Jiang Honghao was saying. She would still be a princess consort—just not married to the Prince of Jin, but to the Prince of Qiyang?
And from Jiang Honghao’s tone, the implication was that she, a merchant’s daughter who had later become a refugee, could become a princess consort only by riding on the Jiang family’s coattails. Slowly, Mu Mingtang raised her head and asked, “Father, isn’t the Prince of Qiyang already as good as dead?”
**
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The Three Bureaus jointly managed salt and iron, revenue and expenditure, and household registration. They were known as the ‘Department of Finance.’ — History of the Song Dynasty