Xie Yuechan’s eyes widened, her heart hammering against her ribs.
How could she not recognize them? Those vibrant, crimson fruits curved like crescent moons were undeniably chili peppers! They were the very thing she had been pining for—the ingredient she’d had Jitao searching for relentlessly since the moment she woke up in this world.
To find an old friend in a foreign land was an understatement; if she hadn’t been mindful of the imperial presence, she might have burst into tears of joy.
The old Emperor had given the peppers a name more suited to the era: Foreign Peppers.
The twenty-odd pots were bestowed upon the Crown Prince to distribute as he saw fit. Kui Yu, the young noble who cared little for gardening but was currently salivating over a fine inkstone, found it easy to strike a deal. Thus, the bounty fell to Gu Jingan.
Cradling two pots of the peppers, Gu Jingan offered his thanks. Under the watchful eyes of the entire assembly, he strode toward the Gu family’s seating area.
“Eh?”
The exquisite porcelain pots were suddenly thrust toward Xie Yuechan. Her surprise was eclipsed only by her delight.
“These are for me?”
She had been racking her brain for a way to coax at least one pot away from him; now, it was as if someone had handed her a pillow just as she was nodding off to sleep.
The eldest sister-in-law, Madam Zhu, thoughtfully swapped seats so that Gu Jingan could sit directly beside Xie Yuechan. After handing over the plants, Gu Jingan turned his head to stare fixedly at the lake, his expression stiff with a hint of self-consciousness.
He had, in fact, noticed Xie Yuechan hunched over her desk lately, scribbling drawings and muttering a strange mantra about “chili peppers stir-frying everything.” He had seen her give those sketches to Jitao to search for in secret. He’d caught a glimpse of the drawings—the fruits were described as pointed and red, tasting of fire. They were a perfect match for these Foreign Peppers.
That was why, when he heard Kui Yu grumbling that they were “rare but useless since you can’t eat them,” he had impulsively offered to trade his prized inkstone for the plants.
Two pots, he thought, sitting a little straighter. That should be enough for her to experiment with. An unfamiliar spark of anticipation flickered in his chest.
Old Madam Gu had assumed her son would follow tradition and present his prize to her to win her favor. She had already fixed a beaming smile on her face as he approached. The surrounding matrons were already cooing about Gu Jingan’s legendary filial piety, but when he handed the treasures to his wife instead, the Old Madam’s smile froze.
Fortunately, Gu Jingan was savvy enough to present a pair of “Eternal Blessing” hairpins—a special gift from the Empress—to his mother. The Old Madam managed to reclaim her dignity just in the nick of time.
The surrounding ladies recovered from their shock and broke into a chorus of praise. “What a fine husband! What a devoted son!”
High up on the imperial dais, the Sixth Princess watched the scene unfold. Her initial shock turned to disbelief, then to a stinging mixture of anger and sorrow. To make matters worse, the sharp-tongued Fourth Princess was right there to twist the knife.
“Still dreaming of making Gu the Third your Prince Consort?” she mocked. “Even if Xie Yuechan were divorced, he’d be a ‘second-hand’ man. Even if you didn’t mind, do you really think Imperial Father would ever agree?”
“Mind your own business!” the Sixth Princess snapped, her eyes rimmed with red.
The Fourth Princess remained unruffled, her smile widening as her sister’s temper flared. “My, why so defensive, little sister? I’m only speaking the truth. Instead of sulking here, you should be worried. I noticed today that Gu the Third’s attitude toward that Xie woman is… quite different than it used to be.”
The Sixth Princess was the daughter of Consort Wu, while the Fourth Princess—whose mother had passed—had been raised by Consort Shu. Since their mothers’ ranks were half a step apart, the younger girl couldn’t openly retaliate against the verbal barbs. Instead, she clung stubbornly to her delusions.
“Impossible!” she insisted. “Brother Jingan is simply a man of high character; he’s just giving her face in public. Just you wait—Xie Yuechan is as ugly as she is stupid. The Gu family will throw her out eventually!”
Finally, as if cheering herself on, the Sixth Princess added one more word: “Definitely.”
The Fourth Princess merely shook her head. She appeared focused on the dancers’ performance, but her gaze lingered on Xie Yuechan. Watching her chat with Princess Duanmin, the Fourth Princess noted that even from a side profile, the woman was unrecognizable from her former self.
In the past, Xie Yuechan had truly earned her reputation for being garish and crude. But today, her attire was elegantly simple. She wore a silver-red skirt embroidered with peach blossoms, paired with a long, pea-green overcoat that made her look gentle and radiant. Her hair was styled in a simple “concentric knot”—a subtle nod to her status as a newlywed—without any of the over-the-top gold ornaments she used to favor.
Thinking back to the Sixth Princess’s stubborn insult about her being “ugly and stupid,” the Fourth Princess let out a soft snort of derision.
Their exchange had been hushed, but the Crown Princess, seated right beside them, caught that mocking sound. She turned with a look of concern. “What is it?”
The Fourth Princess immediately shifted to a warmer tone, looping her arm affectionately through the Crown Princess’s. “Sister, I was just telling my little sister how deeply in love Gu the Third and his bride seem to be! Just look at her—the Third Madam’s complexion is so much better than it used to be.”
The Crown Princess glanced toward Xie Yuechan with a hint of awkwardness, only to be struck by a wave of genuine surprise. Her cousin had actually become quite beautiful!
In the past, even under thick layers of white powder, one could see the sallow, sickly yellow of Xie Yuechan’s skin. Mixed with heavy rouge, the effect had been both comical and eerie. Today, however, she wore only a light touch of brow coal and powder. Without her usual theatrical posturing, she looked poised and natural.
Only now that she was no longer an eyesore did people begin to truly study her features. They realized that Xie Yuechan’s original face was actually quite vibrant, anchored by a pair of “fox eyes” that were both spirited and enchanting. While fox eyes were typically narrow and seductive, hers were more rounded, curving upward at the corners so that every smile or frown was impossible to ignore.
This transformation was the result of Xie Yuechan’s new routine: early nights, early mornings, and a focus on nutritional healing. As her health improved, her inner vitality began to show on the surface.
The “old” Xie Yuechan had been foolish enough to believe her sister Xie Yuewan’s advice, thinking she wasn’t “willowy” enough. She had spent years on a starvation diet that never made her thin, only bloated and pale—a cycle that left her so anxious she couldn’t sleep.
The “new” Xie Yuechan, armed with basic health knowledge, knew that cutting out protein was a recipe for disaster. She had slowly adjusted her diet and incorporated traditional “Seven-Peel” herbal teas to reduce water retention. So far, the results were a resounding success; she no longer looked like a puffy, walking corpse.
After the awards were finished and the atmosphere reached a peak of shared joy, the Emperor announced the grand news: the Crown Princess was over a month pregnant.
This would be the first grandchild of the imperial family. The diagnosis had only been made that morning while the Princess was having breakfast at the Empress’s palace; even the Crown Prince had been kept in the dark until this moment.
The Prince froze, then surged to his feet in a burst of uncontrollable excitement, rushing to his wife’s side to clasp her hand firmly. He had been so buried in state affairs lately that he feared he had neglected her; he never imagined such wonderful news was waiting for him.
The Empress reminded him with a smile to be careful with her.
“Prince Ning is one thing, as he hasn’t started a family yet, but Prince Zheng—you should learn a thing or two from your elder brother’s example,” the Emperor added, stroking his beard. After a bit of fatherly prodding, he turned the conversation back to the routine business of the Kaifeng floods.
The spectators, however, were already doing the math. The Emperor’s mention of the other two princes following the pregnancy announcement suggested that the Empress would likely be scouting for a consort for Prince Ning very soon.
Furthermore, the Eastern Palace currently had only the Crown Princess and one low-ranking attendant, and Prince Zheng had only a primary and secondary consort. It was highly probable that new marriages would be decreed for all of them.
Among the families with eligible daughters, the news brought a mix of excitement and anxiety as every mind began to race with new ambitions.