“Third Prince seems to stare at Gege with particular intensity…”
“Of course I’m not her.” Anning was merely speaking casually—she couldn’t change anything anyway. She sighed and propped her chin in her hand, lost in thought.
Third Prince lowered his eyes and cut out many sheets of red paper, then asked in turn, “Is this enough?”
Anning looked carefully. “Enough, enough! You’ve cut so many!” And they were all uniform in size, almost perfectly identical.
Together they filled the red envelopes with loose bits of silver, sealing each one shut.
Anning suddenly asked, “Third Brother, since it’s the New Year, should I go pay my respects to Consort Tong?” Her tone was hesitant. “She didn’t come out for today’s New Year’s banquet either. Do you think she’s lonely?”
Her mother had told her to trust Third Prince. Since that was the case—she was living in the palace, and she was Third Prince’s playmate—if she didn’t go wish his birth mother a happy New Year during the festival, wouldn’t that be a breach of propriety?
Third Prince was momentarily taken aback. He looked up at her but didn’t speak right away.
Anning felt a little awkward under his gaze, wondering if she’d said something wrong. “I was just saying…” She quickly lowered her head, pretending to focus on sealing the red envelopes.
The room fell into a quiet stillness. Outside the window, snowflakes began to drift down again, swirling one by one as they fell, and before long a thin layer had accumulated.
After what felt like a long while, his voice sounded softly: “My mother has been confined to her quarters. The Emperor… perhaps he has forgotten her. She wasn’t released even for the New Year’s banquet. Without an imperial summons, she cannot leave Jing’an Palace.”
Anning could hear the faint loneliness hidden in his tone.
This was the first time he had shown her his true feelings.
In the winter night, his face seemed to come into clearer focus, and his voice carried a hint of warmth. “Before the New Year’s banquet, I went to see her. She lacks nothing in food and clothing, and she’s someone who enjoys quiet… I mentioned you to her, so there’s no need for you to go pay your respects.”
“Ah?” The unease in Anning’s heart faded, replaced by curiosity. “What did you say about me?”
He paused for a moment before answering, “Lively. Talks a lot.”
“Is being talkative a good thing or a bad thing?” She suddenly began to doubt herself. “Am I really that talkative?” Last time he’d even called her noisy.
He avoided her gaze and took her hand instead. “…I suppose it’s a good thing.”
A faint blush spread across her palm. “The red paper has stained your hand. Go wash it off.”
“If it’s a good thing, then it’s a good thing—what do you mean ‘I suppose’?” Anning protested that he was being perfunctory.
He had always been extremely particular about cleanliness, and now he was pulling her hand along to wash it. She couldn’t resist him at all.
Last time she’d asked him to peel a kumquat for her, and he’d been so disgusted he’d washed his hands three times.
A servant brought warm water, and Third Prince actually took Hesheri Gege’s wrist, intending to wash her hands himself.
Several servants standing nearby couldn’t help but sneak glances.
Talu was so startled she looked at him several times. After recovering, she pressed her lips tightly together, shooing the other servants out with her eyes, then picked up the tray and stood by to attend.
A damp cloth dipped in warm water, wiping her palm again and again.
Anning looked down. The water reflected both their hands.
She thought she really had gained some weight—a shallow dimple had formed on the back of her hand.
Third Prince’s fingers, by contrast, were slender and long, with clearly defined knuckles when bent.
No matter how she looked at it, their hands didn’t seem to belong to people of the same age.
—He was indeed two years older than her.
Anning secretly lifted her eyes to steal a glance at him.
His eyes were lowered, his expression unreadable, but his manner was focused.
She couldn’t resist pinching his finger. It was hard, with not a trace of soft flesh—she was pinching bone directly.
He lightly swatted her hand away. “Stop that. It won’t get clean if you keep messing around.”
Anning pouted dramatically and let him do as he pleased.
She was quiet for only a moment before thinking of something else. “I told my mother about Third Brother too.” Her tone was eager, as if she were claiming credit. “Mother asked how you treat me, and I said you treat me very well—you don’t say much, but you’re gentle.”
Taking a clean hand towel from Talu’s tray, Third Prince lifted his eyes to look at Anning, then gently dried her hands. “Gentle? Like this moment?”
This was genuine confusion.
“Mm!” Anning clenched her hand—her palm was already dry, and so were her fingers.
She grabbed his hand and pulled him over to sit on the couch.
“Do you like this?” He seemed to want to confirm something.
“I do! But Third Brother has to keep treating me this way forever. If it’s just gentleness you’re putting on for a moment, then it doesn’t count.”
“Saying it so pitifully.” Third Prince gave a faint smile and patted her head.
“I’m not.” She hadn’t even had a chance to act pitiful, and he already thought she was pitiful. How strange.
“I will always treat you well.”
“Only me! You can’t have anyone else.” Anning hurriedly emphasized, afraid someone might come and take what was hers.
He laughed softly, thought it over seriously, and quickly nodded. “Alright. Only you.”
Having received his promise, Anning happily wrapped her arms around his and leaned into him, tilting her little face up to beam at him.
“What are you grinning about so foolishly?”
This was the second time today he’d asked that.
Anning wasn’t pleased. “Why do you smile at me? I smile at you for the same reason. How can that be foolish grinning? Then you’re foolish grinning too!”
Third Prince instinctively raised a hand to touch his own face. “You always have a string of twisted arguments. Are you sleepy?”
“Some.”
“Then go inside and rest.”
“Tell me a story!”
There was no need for much coaxing; he agreed naturally. “Alright.”
Third Prince sat by the edge of the couch and recounted some anecdotes. The person on the couch loved listening to stories, growing more spirited with each one, and when she grew impatient, she would urge him to hurry up.
After finishing that tale, he switched to obscure ancient classics. Before he could get through two lines, snoring had already begun.
Exactly as expected—that was just like her.
He let out a leisurely sigh, gently tucked the blanket around her, and rose to leave.
Xiao Gongzi helped Third Prince dress properly, and the party headed out.
Gu Wenxing followed to the doorway but was stopped by Third Prince.
Inside the room, Talu’s heart tightened slightly. She pressed herself against the back of the screen, holding her breath to listen.
The voices outside were faint and indistinct, hard to make out clearly. Third Prince was inquiring about matters concerning the young lady. One sentence she caught clearly—he asked how the Empress Dowager treated the young lady.
Gu Wenxing reported everything in meticulous detail.
There was a moment of stillness outside, then Third Prince’s voice drifted in softly: “What did Lady Tongjia say to Anning? Did you hear?”
Talu abruptly clenched her sleeve, a thin layer of sweat forming on her forehead. She turned her head uneasily but dared not make any sudden movements, afraid the swaying of her shadow on the ground might catch the attention of those outside.
In just a few short hours, Gu Wenxing had been following the young lady the entire time—there was no chance for him to pass along any messages. Gu Wenxing had only just been summoned by the prince for a conversation.
The New Year’s banquet had been crowded and chaotic, and fireworks were set to begin right after it ended. How did Third Prince know the young lady had met with Lady Tongjia? He even knew precisely that Gu Wenxing was the one keeping watch.
Gu Wenxing replied, “I was too far away to hear clearly, Your Highness. There was also an elderly maidservant accompanying Lady Tongjia, so I didn’t dare pry deliberately. It seemed to be about matters of longing or not. Lady Tongjia shed tears, and the young lady wept for quite a while as well.”
Third Prince’s voice carried a hint of curiosity. “How did she cry?”
The question was somewhat strange. Not only Gu Wenxing, but Talu also furrowed her brow slightly, puzzled by its meaning.
Gu Wenxing was baffled. “Well… the young lady threw herself into Lady Tongjia’s arms, tears falling one after another.” Judging by his tone, he might have been mimicking the young lady’s posture and movements just now. When the young lady cries, her brows furrow like the character ‘eight’… quite adorable.”
A few more questions were asked, then Third Prince dismissed Gu Wenxing to return.
Talu quietly let out a breath of relief.
She couldn’t fathom Third Prince’s intentions. If he wanted to know something, he could simply ask the young lady directly—she was unguarded with him and would surely tell him everything she knew.
Yet now he was asking with such detail, not out of curiosity about the content of the mother-daughter conversation, but rather… as if he simply wanted to glimpse how the young lady behaved in front of her mother.
Come to think of it, Third Prince did have a habit of staring at the young lady especially often in daily life.
Author’s note:
Here we go.