A hand swept through the air, catching the two wild geese just before they hit the ground. The guard Shan Yi, still mounted, raised the prey with one hand and looked back excitedly. “Heir, one arrow, two geese—an auspicious omen!”
Baili Xunzhou reined in his horse and glanced behind him. He had a handsome, striking face—dark brows like painted strokes sweeping into his temples, narrow eyes sharp with keenness, the slight upward curve of their corners softening an otherwise too-piercing air. As he looked around, his features gleamed with vitality.
Seeing no one following, he tilted his chin at Shan Yi in a signal. “Take them back and report.”
With that, he moved to spur his horse away. Shan Yi, with lightning speed, cut his horse across Baili Xunzhou’s path, flashing a pitiful, fawning smile. “Heir, you can’t leave! The Princess Consort ordered us to properly entertain the young marquis. I can’t handle him alone…”
Baili Xunzhou sounded rather impatient. “Qingyi sent word that the Arna Tribe plans a night raid on Little River Bend. I have no time to indulge that spoiled brat. Hunting him two live geese is already doing Mother a favor.”
He tugged the reins to leave, but from behind came the clatter of hooves, accompanied by a young man’s drawling, flamboyant voice: “From afar I saw an arrow pierce the clouds and strike both geese—such archery, truly worthy of Heir Baili!”
Baili Xunzhou rolled his eyes in irritation and lightly squeezed his horse’s flanks, about to slip away right in front of the newcomer. Shan Yi, in an act of sheer audacity, grabbed Baili Xunzhou’s reins and forced a smile through gritted teeth. “The military funds, Heir. Think of the military funds!”
The young marquis, Chu Jingqi, was the legitimate son of the current Emperor’s youngest brother, the Prince of Qin. The Prince of Qin also held the post of Transport Commissioner for the Shuobei Circuit, controlling the supply of provisions for several armies on the northern frontier. He was a walking money god—but a miserly one, scrutinizing and withholding every expenditure with maddening slowness.
Now, after a winter of depletion, the tribes beyond the border were running low on grain and fodder, and they frequently harassed frontier villages. Though the warhorses had lost condition over the winter and lacked mobility, making these raids small-scale and not yet a serious threat, the increasingly frequent incursions severely disrupted the people’s livelihoods and threatened spring planting. Prince Dingbei commanded hundreds of thousands of troops, and military expenses were running dry—he urgently needed the money god’s support.
The only crack in this money god’s armor was his good-for-nothing legitimate son, Chu Jingqi. As luck would have it, Chu Jingqi had recently taken up hunting, and as luck would have it, he had come to tour Yunzhong Commandery. Prince Dingbei had hastily “sold” his own son to the young marquis as a hunting companion.
Had the Princess Consort not intervened, the northern frontier would have gained another joke: “Prince Dingbei sells his own son to collect wages; the Heir flies into a rage and beats his father.”
There was no helping it—the purse strings were in someone else’s hands, and the empty-handed Heir had no choice but to bow his head. Baili Xunzhou suppressed his irritation, snatched the two geese from Shan Yi’s hands, and tossed them into Chu Jingqi’s arms.
“Merely a soldier’s humble skill. If the young marquis likes them, they’re yours to play with.”
The attendants scrambled to help Chu Jingqi catch the live geese. Chu Jingqi paid no mind to Baili Xunzhou’s dismissive attitude, examining the pair with undisguised delight. “What a fine, sturdy pair of live geese! Used as betrothal gifts, they’d surely dazzle the whole room!”
The Princess of Qin was currently selecting a proper wife for Chu Jingqi, hoping marriage would steady him. She was being extremely cautious with the candidates. Half had already been eliminated, leaving over thirty young ladies awaiting her final decision.
The youths around them were all at the age of budding romance, and upon hearing this, they showered Chu Jingqi with congratulations, wishing him an early union with his beauty.
From childhood to now, Chu Jingqi had never come out on top in anything—always dead last. But now he was to be the first among the circle of idle heirs to marry with full ceremony, and he felt rather proud of himself. Unable to resist seeking a sense of superiority from others, he jutted his chin and asked Baili Xunzhou, “Heir Baili is about to come of age too, isn’t he? Has the Princess Consort looked into anyone for you?”
Baili Xunzhou was scanning the woods for more prey. Since escape had failed, he wanted to bag as much game as possible and send the man on his way. He answered distractedly, “The war isn’t over. No time.”
The others exchanged glances. Chu Jingqi curled his lip. “You’re not planning to die alone, are you? Though with that temper of yours, you really aren’t easy to marry off. Don’t worry—I’ll have my mother share some experience with yours, and we’ll find you someone compatible.” He put on the air of a seasoned veteran. “Even if it’s not urgent, you should start looking. A good wife won’t just fall from the sky.”
Baili Xunzhou let the words go in one ear and out the other, nocking an arrow and aiming at a snow-white rabbit in the woods. His high-bound ponytail tilted slightly to the side, the arrow fletching level with the small mole on his straight nose bridge, a quiet elegance beneath his sharp gaze.
The rabbit’s ear twitched, then it turned to nibble at grass, its fluffy white rear facing Baili Xunzhou. His fingertip curled slightly, the arrowhead trained on the rabbit, ready to loose.
“Heir! Something’s happened, Heir!”
Just then, a thunderous voice rang out, accompanied by the clatter of chaotic hoofbeats as a rider came galloping toward them. A rabbit in the forest pricked up its ears alertly, abandoned its delicious wild grass, and darted deeper into the woods. An arrow shot through the air with a piercing whistle, striking the rabbit precisely in the throat along its path.
The rabbit toppled over, and Shan Yi hurriedly spurred his horse to retrieve the game.
Baili Xunzhou lowered his bow and shot an annoyed glare at the source of the noise. A servant boy wearing the livery of Prince Dingbei’s household rode up close, leaping off his horse while still several meters away, nearly stumbling head over heels.
“What’s all this frantic fuss? Did the manor catch fire, or is your backside on fire?” Baili Xunzhou glared at the servant.
The servant, breathless and trembling with fear, stammered in his defense: “Forgive me, Young Master, but this is a matter of utmost urgency. The Princess Consort ordered me to ride with all haste—”
“Get to the point.”
“Someone has come from the palace. His Majesty has bestowed a marriage upon you and Qingping Commandery Princess.”
The air went still in an instant. Having blurted out the crucial news in one breath, the servant hung his head and dared not move. Then he heard Baili Xunzhou spur his horse with a sharp cry, the steed brushing past him as it galloped away, kicking up dust that covered him from head to toe.
Shan Yi, returning with the game in hand, had overheard everything. Seeing what happened, he gaped and immediately spurred his horse in pursuit, once again showering the servant with dust.
Listening to the hoofbeats fade into the distance, the servant let out a heavy sigh of relief. He collapsed to the ground with a face full of dirt, catching his breath.
Chu Jingqi stood speechless for a long moment, then flung his horsewhip down in fury. “How is he always one step ahead of me!”
The others exchanged puzzled whispers: “Who exactly is this Qingping Commandery Princess?”
Only then did Chu Jingqi realize who had been betrothed to Baili Xunzhou. He had seen Feng Mian at the year-end palace banquet. In Shengjing, where the winters were far milder than the northern frontier, she had still huddled by the brazier wrapped in a thick fox-fur cloak, coughing at the slightest gust of wind. She looked frail and sickly.
His Majesty had always doted on her—why would he suddenly send her off to the northern frontier? Wasn’t that practically sentencing her to death?
Throughout Shengjing, those who knew nothing of fate and prophecy were saying much the same. Beyond worrying whether Feng Mian’s delicate constitution could survive the biting northern climate, what drew even more pity was the rumor that the young heir of Prince Dingbei’s household looked like a demon out of folklore—brutish and unruly.
That fragile, pampered little commandery princess marrying into such a place—her days ahead would surely be difficult.
The gossip spreading through the palace and beyond reached Feng Mian’s ears, but she paid it no mind. With her departure from the capital drawing near, she was far too busy tallying her dowry, bustling about with great enthusiasm.
Consort Rou had spared no expense, adding gifts nearly matching the dowry she had prepared for Chu Jinglian.
There was no helping it—who knew that Emperor Jiayu himself was aware of who he had originally intended to betroth to the young heir? Even if his initial concern had clouded his judgment, grasping at the prophecy as his only lifeline, once he calmed down afterward, he could hardly fail to notice the traces of Consort Rou’s deliberate maneuvering. She could only grit her teeth and bear the pain, treating it as paying money to ward off disaster.
And since Consort Rou and the Crown Prince had both contributed to Feng Mian’s dowry, the other palace residents, hoping to curry favor with Emperor Jiayu, all sent gifts of their own in varying measure.
What surprised Feng Mian even more was that many palace servants had quietly left small tokens of their regard at the side gate of Shuyue Hall.
It began when Liu Ying, not watching where she was going, tripped over a ceramic jar. Pouting, she complained that someone had dumped trash at Shuyue Hall’s gate—but on closer inspection, she realized these scattered little items, though small, were hardly garbage.
Inside the jar that had tripped Liu Ying was a dish of small pickled cucumbers. In the past, when Feng Mian was ill and could only eat plain congee, she needed a dish of pickled cucumbers to get it down. This was the signature dish of Chef Zheng in the imperial kitchen, and this jar had been made by his apprentice.
When Chef Zheng’s apprentice was twelve, he had been sick with only a breath left in him. With no money for treatment, he had hidden away and burned some tree leaves as spirit money for himself—and Feng Mian had happened upon him. She had someone take him to the official pharmacy, and after he recovered, sent him to become Chef Zheng’s apprentice so he could make a living.
Feng Mian had long forgotten the matter, but he still remembered. Hearing that she was to be married far away, he had stayed up all night picking the finest jar from a vat of pickles and quietly placed it at the side gate before dawn.
Then there was the embroiderer who had nearly been beaten to death on the spot for stitching a pattern wrong. Feng Mian had merely spoken one word on her behalf, and the woman had never forgotten it. She had embroidered a wedding handkerchief by hand and left it by the wall, nearly getting stepped on by Liu Ying.
They were of lowly status, wanting to repay her kindness in whatever small way they could, yet afraid the noble commandery princess would look down on such trifles. So they could only deliver their gifts quietly, and leave just as quietly.
The side gate of Shuyue Hall seemed like a vegetable patch that grew on its own—every morning when the door opened, a pile of strange little objects would appear, becoming one of Feng Mian’s greatest pleasures these past few days.
The closer the day of her departure from the capital drew, the stronger the wave of reluctance surged back. After all, once she left, who knew when she might return.
Feng Mian knew that compared to himself, the palace attendants below would only be even more anxious. To these people who had grown up in Shengjing, the northern frontier was unfamiliar not only in climate and environment, but also in its people. The reputation of the Prince Dingbei’s heir was truly not good—who knew whether he might lose his temper and draw his sword on someone?
Rumors were groundless but frightening, and Feng Mian also feared that the Prince Dingbei’s family might be madmen who would draw their swords at the slightest disagreement!
Feng Mian held the provisional list of accompanying palace attendants in his hand, pondering that he should include more people who were hard to kill.
At that moment, at the Prince Dingbei’s residence, the Prince Dingbei’s family—whom Feng Mian had inwardly criticized as “drawing swords at the slightest disagreement”—were gathered in the main hall.
The Prince Dingbei slammed his palm down in fury, splitting a bamboo incense table with a thunderous crack: “You unfilial brat, what nonsense are you spouting?!”
Baili Xunzhou’s brows and eyes were cold and sharp: “I intend to defy the imperial decree!”
The Prince Dingbei immediately drew the treasured sword hanging on the hall wall!
Author’s Note: