After finishing her explanation, Ruan Mianmian called in Yingchun and instructed her personally on how to prepare the dish. Lin Zhuo watched her carefully demonstrate the process, smiling. “So meticulous—anyone who didn’t know better would think you were cooking some rare delicacy. I just don’t understand what’s so special about wild greens. Everyone says they’re bitter.”
“You’ll understand once you taste them,” Ruan Mianmian replied. “They’re like tea—bitter at first, but if you savor them, you’ll find a delicate fragrance and a lingering sweetness. And let me tell you, the ones I brought back are qingmei greens—they help ward off illnesses brought by foul winds. Eating them is good for your health.”
She knew this from her modern-day knowledge—qingmei greens boosted the immune system. Lin Zhuo listened, intrigued by her enthusiasm. It’s just a wild plant, he thought, but she makes it sound like an elixir. Fine, then—let’s see just how miraculous it is.
That evening, besides the usual fish and meat, there were several vegetable dishes on the table. Most eye-catching were a large plate of fresh wild greens and another of blanched vegetable dumplings—both eaten dipped in egg sauce.
Lin Zhuo couldn’t stop praising them. “I never imagined wild greens could be this refreshing and delicious! I always thought, in the books and on stage plays, it was only the poor who ate these out of desperation.”
Ruan Mianmian gave him a look of mock disdain. “That’s because, my lord, you’ve never truly understood farming. Those wild greens from the countryside are picked at their most tender and fresh—that’s why they’re delicious. The ones in those plays? Those are overgrown weeds as tall as a man—of course they taste awful.”
After dinner, the two rinsed their mouths, but Lin Zhuo still didn’t leave. The maids immediately understood: the prince would be spending the night in Anle Pavilion again.
Fangcao and the others quickly brought tea and snacks. Lin Zhuo and Ruan Mianmian each held a cup, sitting on either side of the kang table, chatting casually.
When Xile returned after eating, he paused in the doorway at the sight of the warm, domestic scene.
“Why don’t you go in?” Fangcao asked softly, lighting two more candles to brighten the room.
Xile whispered, “I’ve never seen the prince look so relaxed. Look at them—don’t they seem like an ordinary married couple?”
“Watch your tongue!” Fangcao hissed with half a laugh. “That’s a royal prince and princess you’re talking about—calling them common folk is treason.”
Xile rolled his eyes. “I mean it as a compliment. You know how rare it is for a man like the prince to ever experience a bit of ordinary happiness.”
With that, he entered the room—just in time to hear Lin Zhuo say to Ruan Mianmian, “If you still have more of those wild greens, send some quietly into the palace tomorrow. Let my mother taste them. I remember she once said that back when she lived in the countryside, she used to eat them too. Just make sure no one else knows.”
“You’re sure she’ll like them?” Ruan Mianmian asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’d rather not try to curry favor and end up offending her instead. If Her Majesty gets angry, who will I cry to then?”
“Why, me of course,” Lin Zhuo said with a laugh. “You can come here and cry all you want, and I’ll defend you. Funny—now you’re cautious, yet you didn’t hesitate to send them to the concubine?”
“That’s different. The concubine and I live under the same roof, so we’ll inevitably interact. And as the princess, even if she dislikes me, there’s nothing she can do about it. But the Empress Dowager is my mother-in-law. If a daughter-in-law offends her, how could she still have a peaceful life?”
“What’s there to fear? The Empress is your aunt.”
Lin Zhuo smiled but studied her expression closely. She didn’t look up, simply continued stitching an embroidery hoop as she waved her hand dismissively. “Some things needn’t be said aloud, my lord. It’s enough that we understand each other. Besides—look at me. Do I seem like someone eager to stay tied to the Duke’s household?”
That was exactly what Lin Zhuo liked to hear. Thinking of how she had arranged everything for Yunniang and Ruan Jian, his satisfaction deepened. Stretching lazily, he turned to Xile. “What time is it?”
“My lord, it’s already the hour of Xu.”
“All right, then. Time to rest. I have morning court tomorrow.” Lin Zhuo stood up.
Ruan Mianmian rose as well. “Xile, you may go rest. I’ll see to the prince myself.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Xile left, quite content. When the prince stayed in the princess’s chambers, it meant an easy night—no need to serve until dawn.
“What? You’re saying the prince actually ate those wild greens? And even praised them?”
Bai Chuchu stared at Yuxue in disbelief. “What is he thinking? How could he even say that out loud? Since when are wild greens fit for the prince’s table?”
“My lady,” Yuxue whispered frantically, “please lower your voice! Everyone in the manor now knows the prince loves wild greens. If anyone hears you say this, it’ll sound like you’re mocking him. Remember what we said when we brought the chicken soup? Now it seems we’ve only shot ourselves in the foot.”
“How was I supposed to know a noble prince would eat that kind of thing?”
Bai Chuchu was fuming. Truly, when misfortune strikes, even a sip of water can choke you. Wild greens? Just because they’re called ‘greens’ doesn’t make them proper vegetables—they’re weeds!
After downing two cups of tea, she finally calmed a little. She stood and paced twice before waving her hand. “Enough about that. What matters now is the prince taking over for Prince Qi at the Imperial Ancestral Temple project. We must prepare carefully.”
“The temple’s close to the manor, and most of the construction is already finished by Prince Qi. The prince just needs to oversee the final work for a few days and show his support. What’s there to prepare?”
“You really are thickheaded,” Bai Chuchu snapped. “Right now, that woman outshines me in every way. If I can’t outdo her in attentiveness and care, am I to resign myself to being the neglected concubine forever?”
She gave a bitter laugh. “Ha! I’m not even as fortunate as those concubines in the palace—the prince hasn’t even touched me. Tell me, how is this any different from living in the cold palace?”
“My lady…”
Yuxue turned pale, but Bai Chuchu waved her off angrily. “What am I afraid of? Afraid he’ll hear? He never comes here anyway. Or that someone will report me? Who would bother, for a useless woman like me?”
“It’ll be all right, my lady,” Yuxue said soothingly. “This is only temporary. Your time will come again.”
Bai Chuchu wiped her tears and nodded. “You’re right. My fate can’t be that bitter. Yuxue, bring out the two sets of robes I made for the prince earlier—the ones sewn from the tribute silk, perfect for this season. What else should we prepare? The bedding must be new and clean, the bed curtains as well. A few books, too…”
“My lady, won’t the prince’s own servants handle those things?” Yuxue asked, puzzled.
Her mistress glared. “Fool! Of course they will—and the princess will too. That’s exactly the point. This is a contest of thoughtfulness. Do you think the prince actually lacks any of these things?”
“I understand now.”
Yuxue finally realized what she meant and immediately began helping her mistress plan and prepare.
(End of Chapter)