The wind was gentle and the clouds clear, a brilliant spring day casting its soft light upon a procession of vermilion carriages adorned with gold tracery. The grand convoy stretched nearly beyond sight, flanked by the ceremonial guards bearing halberds and blades, their presence imposing and majestic.
Crowds of curious onlookers packed the long street.
Someone stared unblinkingly at the dowry carriages, counting under his breath: “One, two, three…” His arithmetic was limited, and seeing the endless stream of carriages still pouring forth, he gave up, exclaiming in awe: “Is this the scale of a commandery princess’s wedding procession? With this much dowry, they must have emptied the entire imperial palace!”
A woman sighed: “Marrying so far away, naturally she needs more possessions to rely on.”
A mother holding her child’s hand chimed in sympathetically: “Only sixteen years old, yet she must journey far to marry alone—truly pitiable.”
The child held by her mother stood on tiptoe, straining to catch a glimpse of the figure half-hidden behind the lifted carriage curtain, and asked innocently: “Mother, the princess is so beautiful—is her husband handsome too?”
The women exchanged glances, recalling the rumor that the young heir was “as ugly as Zhong Kui,” and sighed in unison: “What a tragedy.”
“Tsk, what a tragedy.” In a teahouse above, a man waving a fan sidled up to Gu Chunwen. “Do you think something’s stirred up trouble in the northern frontier again, that His Majesty would hastily marry off a delicate commandery princess?”
Gu Chunwen did not withdraw his gaze, speaking in a low voice: “The northern frontier has been in constant turmoil since the tribal rebellion in the seventeenth year of Yongchang. The only ones capable of guarding the northern gates are the line of Prince Dingbei. Three generations of Prince Dingbei have achieved outstanding military merit, which naturally makes them stand out and draw attention.”
In times of chaos, military commanders are the sharp blades that guard the nation and wash away shame. But once the situation stabilizes, they become a three-foot sword hanging over the court—there are always those who fear its edge is too keen.
Even newly minted jinshi who had yet to enter the court had heard that the memorials impeaching Prince Dingbei, submitted openly and covertly throughout the court, could circle the Emperor’s Mingxin Hall three times over. Even if the Emperor suppressed all these memorials, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t plant seeds of suspicion in his heart.
Thus, this marriage appeared to the court as a “political alliance”—a calming pill swallowed by Dayong. It was just a pity that…
The questioner was the newly minted jinshi Cheng Lixu. Seeing that Gu Chunwen’s gaze still lingered on the princess’s wedding procession, he suddenly thought of something and asked: “I recall you declined a banquet a few days ago, Brother Gu, saying you were returning home to propose marriage. When might I have the pleasure of drinking at your wedding feast?”
Gu Chunwen said quietly: “I was too late—she already has a betrothal.”
The princess’s carriage had already reached the end of the long street. The curtain was lowered, swaying gently in the breeze, and the figure within could no longer be seen.
Gu Chunwen recalled that day at the spring banquet when he had accidentally dropped his handkerchief. Searching by the riverbank, he happened to catch sight of a figure in apricot-red leaping resolutely into the water.
He had been startled, about to call for help, when he saw her pull the person to safety. The moment she emerged from the water, countless droplets scattered like a rain of crystal.
The nobles of Shengjing were mostly affected and haughty in their bearing; he had never seen anyone risk their life so recklessly to save a servant. That day, the slanting sunlight gilded her with a layer of flowing gold dust, her radiant gaze like morning glow against snow.
Seeing her cornered by the princess, he immediately found an excuse to lead Emperor Jiayu over.
Thank goodness—she was sent for medical treatment in time.
That night he tossed and turned, unable to sleep for longing.
In the following days, the figure of Qingping Commandery Lady appeared in his dreams several times. Finally, on the fifth day, he—who always followed the rules—resolved to step out of line once and petition the palace for marriage. Yet instead, he heard the news of the Emperor’s betrothal decree.
One step slow, a hundred steps late.
Now all he could do was wish for her safety and happiness.
As the carriage passed through the gates of Shengjing, gazing at the rustling trees on either side and the travelers burdened with bundles hurrying along, the sorrow of leaving home finally settled heavily upon her heart.
Feng Mian rested her chin on her hand, gazing into the distance at several weeping willows, their newly sprouted branches swaying in the wind.
“The scenery of the northern frontier is vastly different from Shengjing—these trees and flowers, I fear I won’t see them again.”
“A clerk from the Imperial Pond and Garden Bureau volunteered to accompany the princess north, bringing several packs of seeds. He said he could build a greenhouse, so there’d be no worry about the cold killing the flowers.” Wuliu noticed Feng Mian’s melancholy and smiled to comfort her.
This assignment to the northern frontier—unless assigned by order, ordinary people would avoid it at all costs. How could someone volunteer to leave the capital and head north? Feng Mian was just about to ask out of curiosity when Liu Ying, seemingly reminded by Wuliu’s words, began rummaging through the trunks: “Right, right! That place is freezing cold—the princess must keep warm.”
She pulled out a silver hand warmer engraved with auspicious cloud patterns from the carriage’s storage compartment, startling Feng Mian so much her eyes went wide: “A hand warmer is unnecessary! I fear I’d suffer heatstroke before I even reach the northern frontier!”
Liu Ying paused, thinking Feng Mian had a point, and stuffed the hand warmer back. “Then I’ll take it out when we’re close to the northern frontier.”
Having just put away the hand warmer, she brought out another box: “The journey is long—why not practice with the hidden weapons the Crown Princess gifted you? The northern frontier has many bandits, and there’s the constant threat of barbarian tribes…”
Wuliu was capable at most things, but dreaded weapons and fighting above all. Rarely did she demur, saying, “After all, Prince Dingbei himself is stationed there. Though there are many bandits, few have ever amounted to anything. Besides, we have the Luan Yi Guard escorting us—what bandit would dare brazenly intercept the Princess’s procession?”
“Better safe than—”
The carriage lurched to a sudden halt, nearly throwing all three from their seats. Immediately after came the panicked neighing of horses and human screams. Liu Ying clapped a hand over her mouth in terror, wondering if she had become a jinx and summoned bandits.
“Only a few li out of Shengjing—where would bandits come from? Don’t be afraid, let me go look.” Feng Mian soothingly shielded Liu Ying and Wuliu behind her and lifted the carriage curtain first.
Chaos reigned ahead. Several Luan Yi Guards reined in their neighing horses while others scrambled to pull a person out of a mud pit.
It turned out that a massive mud pit had somehow appeared in the middle of the road. A horse’s front hooves had sunk into it, and in its frantic struggle, it had thrown the young ceremonial officer on its back into the pit.
The officer now stood at the edge of the pit, covered in mud from head to toe, his face so smeared with filth that his features were indistinguishable.
Someone couldn’t hold back a snort of laughter, and soon everyone was roaring with laughter.
The bedraggled young man at the center, standing tall and straight as bamboo despite his predicament, awkwardly tugged at the corner of his mouth in embarrassment.
“Is Lord Lu unharmed?” Feng Mian descended from the carriage and approached. Only after confirming there was no blood did she relax. She raised a hand to summon two palace maids: “Take Lord Lu to the bath carriage at the rear to change clothes, and have the attending physician check him for any injuries.”
The two maids acknowledged with a bow. The ceremonial officer, Lu Mingzhu, waved his hands in a fluster: “No, no—I, this subordinate, this official would not dare presume…”
His brain, already short-circuiting from the humiliation of falling into the mud pit, could barely function. He had found himself in similarly unfortunate situations countless times since childhood, but this was the first time someone had come forward not to mock him but to ask with concern whether he was hurt.
“Urgent matters call for flexibility. Besides, Lord Lu is my ceremonial officer—there will be many more hardships along the way. Please do not decline now.”
As Feng Mian spoke, she made a “please” gesture, and Lu Mingzhu followed the maids in a daze.
Only when he reached the bath carriage did it dawn on him—the Princess actually recognized him?
Back in the carriage, Liu Ying asked curiously, “Princess, how did you recognize that he was Lord Lu?”
“I’ve reviewed the files on all the accompanying officials. Since we’ll be traveling together for so many days, wouldn’t it be terrible to wake up each morning knowing no one?” Feng Mian leaned back against the cushion. “Speaking of which, there’s something rather extraordinary about this Lord Lu…”
Liu Ying stared at her eagerly, and even Wuliu cast a curious glance. But Feng Mian stopped there, merely opening her mouth. Wuliu suppressed a smile and fed her a candied fruit.
“The toll has been paid—please do continue, Princess.”
Only then did Feng Mian continue with satisfaction: “His luck is rather poor. With his looks and talent, my uncle originally intended to name him Tanhua—third in the imperial examinations. But he seemed to have eaten something bad and lost composure before the emperor, ending up with only a jinshi degree. As for the various banquets hosted by noble families afterward, one day he broke his leg, the next day he was given the wrong message—he never managed to attend a single one.”
“I was just thinking—if he had the looks to be a Tanhua, why had I never seen his portrait?” Liu Ying sighed. “Can such an unlucky person truly exist in this world? This… this bad luck, it’s not contagious, is it? Why did His Majesty think to make him a ceremonial officer?”
“Because he writes excellent ci poetry, which suits the role of ceremonial officer.” Feng Mian raised a hand to half-cover her mouth and continued in a whisper, “And besides, my uncle cherishes talent. He thought that since the Prince Dingbei’s heir has an excellent birth chart, perhaps he might also help dispel some of Lord Lu’s bad luck.”
Liu Ying and Wuliu exchanged glances.
Feng Mian had found it amusing too when she first heard it—was her uncle treating the Prince Dingbei’s heir like a wishing well? But seeing Lu Mingzhu’s miserable luck today, she found herself hoping the notion might actually work.
The official road, always safe and uneventful, just happened to have a giant mud pit appear. Just happened that none of the passersby fell in—only Lu Mingzhu did. His luck truly was excessive…
Liu Ying muttered, “I don’t worry about anything else, as long as Lord Lu’s bad luck only affects himself and doesn’t drag the Princess down with him.”
Wuliu tapped her on the head: “Pah pah pah, you jinx.”
“Say such things only in private, and don’t treat him any differently. Having bad luck follow you everywhere is already hard enough to bear. If he were also gossiped about and ostracized because of it, life would become truly unbearable.” Feng Mian earnestly admonished Liu Ying.
In her childhood, she had endured only a brief period of rumors about being “a parent-killing lone star,” and it had nearly driven her to shut herself in the corner of her bedchamber and grow into a little mushroom. Thinking of Lu Mingzhu, whose misfortunes had piled up endlessly since childhood, and how many people must have mocked and distanced themselves from him, she couldn’t help but feel a deep empathy.
News that the Princess’s procession was heading toward the northern frontier had by now spread through every street and alley of Yunzhong Commandery. Along with it, word reached the people’s ears that the young heir had quarreled violently with the Prince over refusing an arranged marriage and had stormed off—still missing to this day.
The gambling houses throughout Yunzhong Commandery suddenly became lively, with bets being placed on whether the Young Prince’s marriage would come to pass. The common folk of Yunzhong Commandery had practically watched the Young Prince grow up, and whenever he clashed with the Prince, it was almost always the stubborn Young Prince who came out on top in the end.
But now, after all, he was facing a woman of the imperial family—could the Young Prince still have the upper hand?
The people, many of whom had their lives saved by the Young Prince at one time or another, naturally stood by his side without reservation. Heaven have mercy—the Young Prince had been pushed to the point where he couldn’t even return home. As his loyal subjects, they had to find a way, no matter what, to keep this Commandery Princess from crossing their threshold!
Author’s Note: