Dawn broke, and Feng Mian swung her legs off the bed, draping over herself the faded sky-blue robe Wuliu handed her before heading off to wash up.
Several young palace maids in crow-blue gowns were bustling about the bedchamber, laying out the morning meal and perfuming the garments. Seeing Feng Mian rise, they quietly curtsied to her.
A handkerchief soaked in the warm rose dew in the bronze basin, Wuliu wrung it dry and gently wiped Feng Mian’s face, speaking to her in a soft murmur: “Word came from the front just now—His Majesty said he’ll dine with the Commandery Princess at Consort Rou’s palace at noon.”
Feng Mian nodded, brushed her teeth carefully, then took the golden jade cup from Liu Ying and rinsed her mouth several times with agarwood honey water, feeling her taut nerves ease for a brief moment.
She’d barely slept in the latter half of the night, endlessly replaying every scrap of information she could recall from her dream, yet only a few fragments concerning her had surfaced.
Because official history never seemed to explicitly record what became of her after the Prince Dingbei’s heir rebelled—she who had already married him as his heir consort—posterity had debated her fate endlessly. Some speculated the Emperor had rescued her back to Shengjing ahead of time; others suggested the heir had used her to threaten the Emperor, and the Emperor had poisoned her; still others guessed she’d died before the heir even raised his banner of revolt.
Feng Mian had no way to determine which was the truth, but at least she now knew that “the Prince Dingbei’s heir would rebel.” She, her maternal uncle, and countless others would all perish in that coup.
Once the bone-deep terror had gradually settled, Feng Mian calmed herself and thought of her altered marriage arrangement, surmising that these recorded historical facts were not necessarily immutable. Rather than desperately trying to cancel the betrothal, she would rather marry him and seek a countermeasure—perhaps she might have a chance to stop a bloody coup before it began.
Emperor Jiayu was no benighted ruler; the Great Yong of today enjoyed orderly governance and a thriving populace, rising ever higher. If the Prince Dingbei’s heir rebelled purely out of personal ambition, then she would find a way to kill him before it all began.
This was the sixteenth year of Chengping. There were still five years until the heir’s rebellion in the twenty-first year of Chengping. Everything was still in time.
At Chengxi Palace, Consort Rou personally led Feng Mian to her seat in front of Emperor Jiayu, gazing at her with maternal affection: “Qingping’s complexion looks much rosier—it seems your health has truly recovered.”
“I should have summoned your elder sister Zhaoning to join us for the meal today, to have her make amends to you. But considering she’s currently kneeling in penance at the small Buddhist hall, living on plain tea and simple fare, breaking her punishment today would only reward her—so I’ve let it be. Let her reflect properly and see if she dares make such thoughtless jokes again.”
The first half of Consort Rou’s words were directed at Feng Mian, but the latter half was spoken with her eyes on Emperor Jiayu—clearly currying favor: See how earnestly our Lian’er is being punished, sincerely repenting and suffering greatly. After all, it was merely a thoughtless jest from a young girl—do pity her and lift the restriction for now.
Before Emperor Jiayu could speak, Feng Mian offered praise first: “No wonder everyone says Your Grace is the most fair and impartial. With such a mother, I’m sure Sister Zhaoning will never make such thoughtless mistakes again.”
A barely perceptible stiffness flickered across Consort Rou’s smile before she smoothly replied: “Such a small matter hardly deserves the words ‘fair and impartial.’ Any mother ought to do the same—how could one shield one’s child from wrongdoing? Lian’er cannot come in person due to her punishment, so as her mother, I shall apologize on her behalf.”
With that, Consort Rou actually made to rise and bow in apology to Feng Mian. Feng Mian quickly caught her hand, stopping the motion, and said with heartfelt sincerity: “Your Grace need not do this. I have yet to thank you for all your efforts on my behalf in bringing about such a fine match. If in the future I truly experience the Receding of the Disaster Star and the Advent of the Auspicious Luminary because of the heir’s birth chart, I truly don’t know how I could ever repay Your Grace.”
“Though I fell gravely ill this time because of Sister Zhaoning, it is also through Your Grace that I gained this opportunity to turn my fortune and dispel calamity. In that light, misfortune breeds fortune—merits and faults cancel each other out. Your Grace need not mention apologies again, nor send any gifts of compensation.”
As she spoke, Feng Mian gestured to Wuliu behind her, who led Liu Ying—waiting outside with others—inside to set down the various gift boxes she carried. These were all the apology gifts Consort Rou had sent after hearing Feng Mian had awakened, and today they had all been brought back untouched.
Consort Rou faltered: “Qingping, what is the meaning of this?”
“The northern frontier is far, and the roads are plagued by bandits. I thought it best not to carry too many things on the journey—a waste of manpower for nothing. Gifts like the gold, silver, and jade Your Grace bestowed, I shall leave behind.” Feng Mian smiled brightly, with the innocent air of one unacquainted with the world: “The northern frontier is vast and open. Better to convert the gold and silver into land deeds and shop properties—then money will breed money, and I can simply buy these things again whenever I wish.”
Her guileless speech made Emperor Jiayu shake his head in amusement: “What are you thinking about, girl? Do you think I’d let you travel alone? Imperial guards will escort you the whole way. What fool would dare attack the imperial caravan? Besides, Shengjing is a hub of commerce—some things simply can’t be bought whenever you want once you’re in the northern frontier.”
“Keep what Consort Rou gave you as part of your dowry. As for the land deeds and shops, I will naturally provide those for you.”
Feng Mian immediately expressed her gratitude with great delight, then heaped praise upon Consort Rou, declaring that if the world knew Consort Rou had contributed to her dowry, they would surely laud her for her virtue and kindness. This forced Consort Rou to respond: “These trifling little items meant as recompense—how could they possibly serve as a proper dowry gift for the Princess? The apology gifts are only for apologizing. I have prepared something else for Qingping’s dowry.”
Though she spoke so generously, Consort Rou’s heart was bleeding. The so-called apology treasures were actually items she disliked, things she had set aside to save face and brush matters aside. She had never intended to open her private stores to contribute to Feng Mian’s dowry. Wasn’t Feng Mian’s dowry already lavish enough with the Emperor allocating from the imperial treasury?
Now, backed into a corner by such maneuvering, she had no choice but to cut off a piece of her own flesh to preserve her dignity.
Throughout the meal, Consort Rou ate without tasting a single bite, while Feng Mian departed in high spirits, looking for all the world like a poor relative who had successfully cadged a windfall.
She planned to accomplish great things in the northern frontier, so the more money she had on hand, the better.
Thus, she was in no hurry to return to the palace. Changing direction, she made her way to the Eastern Palace instead.
Crown Prince Chu Jingze was seven years Feng Mian’s senior. Since childhood, Emperor Jiayu had kept him close and carefully tutored him, and he had even helped care for the infant Feng Mian, having his robes soaked with her urine more than once. He treated her with greater affection than he did his own younger sisters.
There was no need for Feng Mian to bring it up herself—Chu Jingze had already presented her with a prepared dowry list.
In the Crown Prince’s immaculate and solemn study, Feng Mian sprawled inelegantly in a zitan armchair carved with openwork auspicious cloud patterns, eating pastries while perusing the dowry list in her hands, grinning from ear to ear.
Besides various gold, silver, and jade items, the list also included a great many small daily necessities, detailed to an extraordinary degree.
Chu Jingze watched Feng Mian’s carefree demeanor and let out a faint sigh: “Just a few lifeless objects and you’re this happy? You’ve barely left Shengjing your whole life. Do you know what the northern frontier is like? With your constitution, a few gusts of wind and you’d be broken.”
“How can you curse me like that?” Feng Mian said, somewhat displeased, but her mood lifted the moment she looked back at the dowry list. “Besides, you’ve sent me so many precious furs, Brother Crown Prince. Made into cloaks, I can wrap myself in seven or eight layers and not repeat a single one for a whole month. And these hand warmers—gold, jade, silver… they could bury me entirely. How could I possibly freeze?”
Having spent years in each other’s company day and night, Chu Jingze could easily see that Feng Mian was acting out of character. He asked directly: “You’ve never been this fond of wealth before. What, are you planning to run off halfway?”
Was she really that irresponsible a person?! Feng Mian shot Chu Jingze an indignant glare from above the dowry list, yet she could not bring herself to speak of the things she had seen in her dreams.
When she was young, she had suffered greatly because of such dreams. At the time, the Empress Dowager believed she was possessed by some evil spirit and, without telling anyone, had her locked away in a Taoist temple. Without food or water, she was force-fed talisman-ash water for seven days straight, nearly dying of illness.
Of course, Chu Jingze would not report that she still had such dreams, but whether he would believe her was another matter. Even if he did believe her, she still didn’t know the situation at Prince Dingbei’s household. Wrongful cases were hardly rare in the history books—what if Prince Dingbei had no intention of rebelling at present, and it was they who pushed him into it?
Punishing people today for crimes of the future was truly somewhat unfair.
Feng Mian let out a faint sigh. Besides resigning herself to fate, did she have any other choice? Perhaps, as the sorcerers and the Imperial Observatory had said, once she went to the northern frontier and married the young heir, her health would gradually improve.
Chu Jingze lowered his gaze slightly, his expression unreadable, seeming to carry a hint of wounded self-reproach: “If I hadn’t been outside the city those few days, I would never have let them scheme against you like this…”
He had received word and rushed back with all speed, but in the end, he was still a step too late. Consort Rou had handled the matter very cleanly, leaving no handles to grasp. One step slow meant every step slow. The officials of the Eastern Palace also did not want him to clash with the Luo family—Consort Rou’s maternal clan, then at the height of their power—over the investigation of Feng Mian’s case. And so the matter was settled.
“Are you really feeling guilty?” Feng Mian leaned sideways to peer at his expression, then hastily offered up the dowry list with both hands. “Then add some more treasures. If I live well, you’ll surely feel better.”
Chu Jingze: “…”
Chu Jingze let out a laugh and took the dowry list as instructed. Lifting his brush, he asked: “Go on, what else do you want?”
Feng Mian eagerly leaned in to point out her desired treasures.
On the gold-painted, color-carved corridor outside the study, the maidservant Liu Yue, carrying a lacquered wooden tray, stamped her foot in frustration and glared sideways at the guard blocking the doorway: “What do you mean the study is a place of confidentiality and no one may enter? If Princess Qingping can go in, why can’t our Crown Princess?”
The guard stood with eyes fixed straight ahead, utterly impervious to her words.
The Crown Princess, dressed in a lotus-root-colored gauze gown embroidered with faint silver cloud patterns, took the news in stride. She merely nodded slightly, then turned to leave with Liu Yue, unbothered as she counseled her maid: “The Princess Qingping grew up alongside the Crown Prince since childhood—their bond runs deep. How could I, a newly married Crown Princess, compare? Besides, the Princess is soon to be wed far away, and siblings rarely get to meet. Why would she want an outsider intruding?”
Her tone was magnanimous, her brows open and spirited, though the overly plain and gentle attire somewhat muted the boldness in her features.
Liu Yue said, “At the very least, leave the lotus seed soup behind? That way the Crown Prince will know of your thoughtfulness.”
The Crown Princess waved a hand dismissively: “The Crown Prince has no time for soup right now. If it sits too long, it’ll lose its sweetness—better to take it back and let me drink it.”
“…My lady, you’ve been married into the Eastern Palace for over two months now. How can you not even try to win the Crown Prince’s heart…” Liu Yue was at her wit’s end. Today she had finally managed to persuade her mistress to bring the Crown Prince soup, even changing into a softer, more delicate outfit—only to not catch so much as a glimpse of him.
“The Crown Prince isn’t a donkey—you can’t just dangle a carrot and expect him to follow. I can’t be bothered with such schemes.” The Crown Princess quickened her pace, trying to escape Liu Yue’s lecturing, “But Princess Qingping is truly pitiable, going alone to marry in the northern frontier, and that Prince Dingbei’s heir is a reckless scoundrel. I recall the Crown Prince is planning to add to her dowry—as Crown Princess, I ought to show my own sincerity as well.”
So when Feng Mian returned to her chambers, she found a full set of finely crafted steel daggers, both long and short, along with concealed sleeve weapons, and a note scrawled in wild cursive telling her to keep them for self-defense and not let anyone bully her.
Feng Mian was overjoyed, running her hands over every cold weapon in the box. She remembered that the Crown Princess Di Lan’s natal family managed the armory—she hadn’t expected her to be so generous and unconventional as to gift her such fine things. With a blade in hand, her heart steadied; she could ask the martial maids to teach her some techniques, and if trouble ever came, she’d have a fighting chance.
This new sister-in-law was truly generous and amusing. Once she left home, she would write to her often—and if she could get more interesting hidden weapons, all the better.
Feng Mian toyed with a palm-sized sleeve arrow, imagining the Prince Dingbei’s heir attempting some mischief only to be felled by a single shot from her sleeve, and let out a gleeful, wicked chuckle.
At that moment in the northern frontier, the snow had just begun to melt. Howling winds battered gnarled, clawing branches, and the sharp rhythm of galloping hooves layered over the crisp crunch of crushed dead leaves. A youth in light armor urged his horse forward, bow drawn, cape snapping wildly in the wind behind him.
Baili Xunzhou was squinting at a pair of wild geese beneath the clear sky when, at the instant he loosed his arrow, he suddenly sneezed. The shaft pierced the air, striking through both geese’s wings in one shot.
As the geese plummeted to the ground, he sneezed twice more.
Who was cursing him?