Pei Huaiche's words were tender, yet each syllable carried a certain playful sincerity.
Cuihua's expression froze for a moment, then her delicate brows furrowed as she planted her hands on her hips and scolded with exasperation: "Huaiche, can't you have a bit more ambition? And since when did you say you don't care about titles?"
Pei Huaiche continued to gaze at her with a smile, a hint of starlight shimmering in his eyes: "Yesterday I only said that you seem to care about it more than I do—I never said I didn't care."
He paused briefly, lowering his voice slightly, yet it only grew more tender: "Besides, since I'm your bedchamber favorite, isn't the greatest ambition simply to steadily secure the position of principal consort, so that you'll dote on me alone for the rest of your life?"
Cuihua was momentarily taken aback. Upon reflection, she found herself unable to refute his words.
She always felt that Pei Huaiche was flawless in every way, and for this reason, she often secretly lamented—had he been born into better circumstances, and had fate not cruelly injured his legs, he would surely have accomplished great things.
But Pei Huaiche himself never seemed to harbor such thoughts, as if as long as he could stay by her side, everything else was more than enough.
Perhaps it was because he had once been bound in servitude and had tasted all the coldness of the world that he was especially easy to satisfy whenever fate showed him even a sliver of kindness.
At this thought, even though she was merely joking with him, Cuihua's heart softened.
Unable to bear speaking harshly to him, she said gently instead: "Li Jing does know how to read the room—he can tell I value you, so he went straight to calling you brother-in-law."
Pei Huaiche's gaze was warm as water, quietly enveloping her, a faint curve visible at the corners of his lips: "If anyone else had said such a thing, the listener would naturally take it as improper nonsense. But who in all of Xiangjing doesn't know that Prince Jin, Li Jing, is simply ignorant of worldly conventions? Taking him seriously would only be beneath one's dignity. So when he calls me that, even if we don't refute it, no one else can rightly find fault."
Cuihua listened to his smooth reasoning and was still somewhat speechless: "So until you officially hold the title of consort, you plan to use my foolish little brother to satisfy your ears?"
Pei Huaiche's deep eyes lowered slightly, his smile carrying a hint of lazy profundity: "I certainly won't let his sweet words go to waste for nothing. To be honest, before I got to know him, I was racking my brains over how someone like me—disabled and unable to easily meet outsiders—could rise from a mere bedchamber favorite to becoming your legitimate consort, step by step. Now I've come up with an idea that could benefit us both."
Cuihua's eyes sparkled with interest, eager to hear more: "Oh? Don't tell me you've found a way to make his calling you that turn into reality?"
Pei Huaiche neither confirmed nor denied, merely resting his slender fingers on the armrest of his wheelchair, letting the deepening dusk outside the window trace his profile into ever more refined contours: "If it works, all the better. If not… consider it a trial and error. Neither we nor he would lose anything."
That night, Cuihua was on her monthly cycle, so Pei Huaiche naturally wouldn't be so impatient as to disturb her. The couple chatted for a while longer, after which Pei Huaiche called for Huang Hu, who had been waiting in the outer chamber, to push his wheelchair back to the bedchamber.
Word spread throughout the princess's estate that very evening: from tomorrow until the Mid-Autumn Palace Banquet, Prince Jing would, barring any unforeseen circumstances, be visiting the estate daily.
The explanation Pei Huaiche gave Cuihua was that to accomplish their goal, they first needed to subtly shift the people of the capital's perception of Li Jing. That way, when Li Jing said certain things, others wouldn't dismiss them entirely as the ravings of a madman.
And this palace banquet was the perfect opportunity.
First, because all the imperial relatives, nobles, civil and military officials would be in attendance—if Li Jing performed well before so many eyes, it would be the easiest way to make a stunning impression.
Second, as Xiaobi had mentioned, according to past tradition, the banquet featured not only lavish feasts and performances but also poetry contests, wrestling, and equestrian competitions as entertainment—allowing young officials' sons with talents in civil or martial arts to showcase their abilities before the Empress.
After learning that the Empress sent someone each year to ask whether Li Jing would attend the banquet, Pei Huaiche accompanied the young prince beside him in drinking his first cup of wine. As the empty cup landed back on the table, he asked with feigned casualness: "I wonder, Your Highness, do you have any intention of attending this year?"
Li Jing waved his hand exactly as Pei Huaiche had predicted, looking thoroughly disinterested: "I can't be bothered to join the festivities. They think I'm bad luck, and I find them an eyesore in return. Second Sister surely can't bring you to the banquet either. If you think you'll be lonely on your own, why not come over to my place? In past years it's been just me and Xiaobi for the holiday—adding you this year wouldn't be half bad."
At this, Pei Huaiche's brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
Xiaobi, standing nearby, was afraid Pei Huaiche might misunderstand that his master lacked even the most basic filial piety by openly snubbing the Empress's invitation, so he hurriedly explained in a low voice: "Please don't take offense, Master Huai. His Highness did attend in his early years, but because of his reputation as a demonic seed, his seat was never placed alongside the Crown Princess or the Fourth and Fifth Princes. And those around him… mostly kept their distance as well."
Li Jing, being young and proud, was unwilling to have others know of his past embarrassments. Before Xiaobi could finish speaking, he shot her a glare and said in a stiff tone, "As if I actually enjoy dealing with them. Every one of them wears a fake smile and opens their mouth with 'Long live the Empress' and 'The Crown Princess is so virtuous'… utterly dull."
Xiaobi had no choice but to fall silent, quietly refilling both their cups. She noticed Pei Huaiche pondering for a moment before slowly voicing his hope that Li Jing would attend the banquet this year.
It had to be said that Pei Huaiche truly understood the art of persuasion. His words were flawlessly reasoned, and to Li Jing and Xiaobi, they seemed entirely sensible—simply a matter of looking out for Cuihua's best interests.
He explained that since this was her first time attending such a grand banquet, despite having crammed some etiquette lessons, she would likely struggle to manage everything on her own. Since he could not accompany her, it was only natural that he hoped she would have someone she could completely trust by her side.
Naturally, Pei Huaiche also added in a gentle tone that if attending would cause Li Jing to face rejection from the other guests again, that was not something he or Cuihua would wish to see. He therefore suggested that Li Jing might consider trying his hand at one or two events he excelled in.
Nothing silenced those who looked down on others better than genuine skill. Moreover, since the Empress had set up prizes for each competition, and he still owed Cuihua a return gift, this could serve as a perfect excuse—it wouldn't seem like he was showing off without reason.
Having said this, Pei Huaiche raised the second cup of wine before him but did not drink. Instead, he let his gaze drift toward the window, where in the depths of the courtyard bathed in sunset light, the stable's silhouette was gilded with a golden halo. "Wrestling, for instance, or horsemanship…"
Yet at these words, not only Xiaobi but even Li Jing fell silent for quite some time.
The young prince rubbed his nose, showing a rare hint of embarrassment. "Well… actually, you see, although I do harbor the dream of a wandering hero who would roam the martial world with his sword if I could never win Qingci's heart, at the moment… I'm still a step short of that."
His gaze wavered, and his voice grew even softer: "The manual that could make one unmatched in the martial world overnight… I haven't found it yet…"
Whether it was fortunate or not, Li Jing had carried the name of the demonic seed since childhood and had endured much injustice, yet he still retained a kind nature. A large part of this was because, unlike other imperial children, he had never been strictly disciplined by His Majesty from a young age.
After learning to read, he had stumbled upon the martial arts novels Xiaobi had secretly smuggled into the palace for entertainment, and no one had ever stopped him on the grounds that he was wasting his time.
This was hardly unusual—the boys of Baishi Village who had learned their letters under Pei Huaiche, even with even less literacy, were often captivated by the martial arts tales told by the town's storytellers.
But as one grew older and gained more experience, as long as one's mind was sound, one would gradually stop taking such stories seriously.
Yet Li Jing, at sixteen, had barely experienced ordinary social interactions.
Even though Xiaobi had repeatedly told him that the tales in those novels were pure fiction, he stubbornly believed that beyond the capital of Xiangjing, there must be a martial world waiting for him to right wrongs.
All he lacked to become what the novels called a "destined protagonist" was a martial arts manual that would let him soar to the heavens and dive into the earth.
And it was precisely because he believed a great hero ought to possess an imposing divine weapon that, after moving out of the palace to establish his own residence, he had insisted Xiaobi commission a blacksmith to forge that Black Iron Heavy Sword—a weapon almost no one would ever use in actual combat.
His explanation was vague, so Xiaobi could only continue with a wry smile, adding, "Lord Huai, my prince… not only has he never properly studied, he's also never trained a single day in martial arts. That sword was something I couldn't talk him out of, so I had a blacksmith make it to his specifications—it doesn't even have an edge."
Pei Huaiche suddenly let out a soft laugh. At this moment, he found himself somewhat grateful that, no matter what, he had personally raised that heartless imperial nephew of his—at least he had some experience in coaxing children.
He looked at Li Jing, his gaze warm and gentle, with a barely perceptible hint of guidance: "Before my legs were crippled, I did have some skill in boxing and horsemanship. I may not be able to turn Your Highness into the martial arts master of your dreams, but with seven days until the palace banquet, given Your Highness's natural talent, it should be enough to let you shine at the event. Perhaps it might even earn you a second look from Third Miss Sang. What does Your Highness think—would you be willing to give it a try?"
And so the matter was settled.
The next day, just past the hour of Si, as sunlight filtered through the eaves casting sparse shadows on the bluestone ground, Li Jing arrived at Cuihua's princess residence with Xiaobi in tow, the heavy Black Iron Heavy Sword slung over his shoulder, striding with vigor.
Perhaps because Li Jing's reputation as the demonic seed was deeply ingrained in people's minds, or because his past deeds—true or false—had long spread throughout Xiangjing, the servants in the residence, upon seeing his eerie copper coin face veil and the red lotus tattoos on his cheeks, all held their breath and lowered their eyes, not daring to make a sound, as if avoiding some fearsome demon.
When Cuihua pushed Pei Huaiche's wheelchair to the guest hall to receive them, this was the scene that greeted her, and a hint of apology flickered in her eyes. Fortunately, Li Jing and Xiaobi appeared perfectly at ease, showing no sign of displeasure.
Xiaobi, quick-witted as she was, noticed Cuihua's discomfort and smiled to reassure her: "Second Princess need not worry. Back in the palace, we grew accustomed to such scenes long ago."
Li Jing nodded along from the side, the copper coin veil swaying slightly, revealing a hint of a smiling mouth beneath it: "There are advantages to having many people fear me. Even if they despise me in their hearts, no one dares to show it openly. Even Xiaobi gets to bask in that reflected glory—no matter how long he's served in the palace or which powerful master he's followed, no one dares to act superior in front of him, afraid that I might, at the slightest provocation, 'unleash' myself to bite."
As he spoke, he deliberately puffed out his chest, putting on a fierce and impressive air.
The copper coins on his veil clinked softly with the movement, and through the gaps, two sharp canine teeth were faintly visible on his lips, smiling without a trace of shadow.
But his words were spoken with such candor that Cuihua felt a pang of bitterness rise in her heart.
She shook her head, her gaze falling on that peculiar veil, and asked softly: "I've been meaning to ask… why does Third Brother insist on wearing a veil strung with copper coins? Won't they hit your face when you move?"
Li Jing reached up and touched the copper coins hanging by his cheek, his tone still casual: "At first they did, but after wearing them for a while, I figured out the trick—how to turn my head, how to take my steps, so the coins don't strike my face. It was that 'master' who said I must have my face tattooed to ensure the Great Liang's peace and prosperity who ordered it. These coins are specially made too, engraved with Bagua inscriptions, said to suppress the evil energy within me."
Cuihua nodded with partial understanding, while Pei Huaiche, sitting quietly in his wheelchair nearby, lowered his lashes, concealing the dark chill in his eyes.
By now, he had already seen through the machinations of the one who had driven Li Jing to be tattooed, so hearing Li Jing's explanation came as no surprise to him.
After all, Li Jing had a delicate, handsome face, and after losing his baby teeth, he no longer had the sharp fangs that could barely pass for a demonic appearance. Relying solely on the two red lotus tattoos on his cheeks, it was hard to make people fear him at a glance for long.
And this so-called "veil to cover the face and suppress evil" had instead become a more conspicuous brand, deepening the world's prejudice against him as "inauspicious" and "uncanny" day after day.
As his thoughts drifted, Pei Huaiche couldn't help but recall the ten years of his regency, when the entire court and country of Yuan were filled with slander that he had deliberately sidelined the young emperor, plotting to usurp the throne.
In the end, it was because he had purged the court, severely punished cruel officials, repelled foreign enemies, and suppressed the powerful—treading on too many people's interests—that those who couldn't confront him head-on resorted to such underhanded schemes, trying to set him against imperial authority and public sentiment.
It wasn't that he lacked the means to silence the rumors—he could simply follow the example of his brother, whose claim to the throne was indeed illegitimate, and bypass the problem itself by eliminating those who raised it.
Kill to stop slander, blood to seal mouths—better to execute ten thousand wrongly than to spare a single person who dared to spread rumors.
But in the end, he hadn't done so. He knew all too well what consequences continuing his brother's tyranny would bring, and so he was unwilling to plunge the court into further panic. He thought he might as well wait for the young emperor to grow up.
As long as the young emperor trusted him, everything would be vindicated in time…
Pei Huaiche had already formed a vague suspicion about the identity of the one pulling the strings behind the scenes, and this was precisely the most important reason he had decided to help Cuihua win over Li Jing.
Even if Cuihua had no intention of contending for anything, only wishing to live quietly as a carefree princess, he still had to plan ahead for her, cultivating people who shared her interests and would stand firmly by her side.
Those who had once attacked him could be attributed to conflicts of interest—an open game of life and death.
But Li Jing had only been six years old when his face was tattooed. Whose path could he possibly have been blocking?
At most, he had made that person feel a vague sense of threat, and for that, he was subjected to such cruel judgment.
This was enough to show that the person Cuihua would face this time might be even more decisive in action and more ruthless in methods than those who had once targeted him.
So, was he to sit and wait for death, hoping that someone who had once been unable to tolerate Li Jing would, in the future, show mercy and tolerate Cuihua?
The struggle for power among imperial children never followed one's wishes. Once swept into the vortex, one had no choice but to enter the fray, no choice but to fight.
Pei Huaiche had already lost once, and this time—concerning Cuihua—he didn't want to lose, and he couldn't afford to.
Because he harbored such intentions—not only wanting the Sang Qingci he admired to see him in a new light, but also wanting her to approve of the horse he planned to gift her—Li Jing ultimately decided to bring the horse Pei Huaiche had tamed for him yesterday to the equestrian competition at the palace banquet.
He did indeed have a talent for martial arts, archery, and horsemanship. Under Pei Huaiche's patient, tailored guidance, within just half a day, he could already guide the horse to leap nimbly over several low obstacles.
He practiced until sweat beaded at his temples before reining the horse to a stop, dismounting, and walking aside to rest.
Pei Huaiche withdrew his gaze at the sight.
Perhaps because his mind was divided, with memories surging back, his temples began to throb with pain again. His expression darkened, and the long fingers resting on the wheelchair armrest gradually tightened, the knuckles turning pale.
Until, suddenly, a weight settled on his shoulder.
A wisp of warm, fragrant scent drifted close, followed by a pair of soft, slender arms that loosely wrapped around him from behind, winding affectionately up to the front of his neck. Then, the young girl gently rested her chin atop his head.
Cuihua's smiling voice sounded by his ear, her warm breath brushing past his temple: "What are you thinking about again? Third Brother and I called you several times just now, but you didn't respond."
Pei Huaiche suddenly snapped back to attention.
The sharpness on his face instantly faded, replaced by a gentle curve at the corners of his lips: "Nothing, I just suddenly recalled some trivial matters at the manor. These next few days I need to instruct the Third Prince in horseback riding, so all the manor's affairs will have to be left to Steward Di to handle alone."
Hearing this, Cuihua's red lips pouted slightly, half-pouting, half-teasing: "Steward Di was originally the manor steward bestowed by Mother Empress. When he first entered the manor, he never expected someone like you to suddenly appear, practically 'squeezing' him into doing nothing but collecting his pay. Now he's finally back to doing what he's supposed to do—what could possibly go wrong?"
Pei Huaiche nodded with a smile, smoothly steering the conversation along: "True enough, I was overthinking it. You and the Third Prince called for me—what is it?"
Cuihua's eyes lit up, her dark, round apricot eyes rippling with eager anticipation.
Her arms still lingered on his shoulders, but she leaned in closer: "Seeing you teach Third Brother for so long has made me curious too. Why not teach me as well? I've never ridden a horse before, but I always feel… it must be terribly fun."