The sun gradually began to sink toward the west.
The removal of goods from the Duke of Zhenguo’s Estate was nearly complete.
Zhao Qihuang remained standing there.
Xiao Hong and Xiao Cheng supported her on either side, both holding their breath. Xiao Hong was worried. Xiao Cheng, however, was terrified by the Commandery Princess’s unprecedented state of utter distraction. Even when the Commandery Princess was furious in the past, she never looked like this. Was the sky about to fall?
“Commandery Princess, why don’t we go back now?” Xiao Hong advised softly, her voice full of concern. “You’ve been standing here for four hours.”
Zhao Qihuang seemed not to hear, her gaze still fixed on the vermillion-lacquered main gate of the Duke of Zhenguo’s Estate.
Just then, a greater commotion erupted from the gate. The surrounding commoners boiled over instantly, like water disturbed by a thrown stone.
“They’re coming out! They’re coming out!”
“The people of the Duke of Zhenguo’s Estate are being brought out under escort!”
This time, what emerged were no longer cold objects of wealth, but living, breathing people.
First came a group of weeping women and children. Though their clothes were still relatively neat, they had lost their former opulence and dignity. All their hair ornaments and jewelry were gone, leaving only faces full of terror and despair. They were roughly shoved by the constables toward the nearby prison cart.
Following them were the estate managers and servants, all crestfallen and ashen-faced. Nearly a hundred people were huddled together, trembling as they were driven by the constables, their former standing completely annihilated.
The surrounding commoners’ discussions, sighs, and even faint curses intertwined. They didn’t know what crime the Duke of Zhenguo had committed, but everyone wanted a chance to step on these “big shots” who had once stood so high above them.
In the crowd, Zhao Qihuang instantly locked onto the figure she knew better than anyone: the Heir Apparent of the Duke of Zhenguo—Wei Lanzhou.
The noble Shizi, who usually wore a moon-white brocade robe, carried an ivory-boned fan, and always appeared calm and composed, with wisdom in his grasp.
He was now wearing a drab, coarse cloth prison uniform. His jet-black hair, usually meticulously tied up, was somewhat disheveled. Several strands fell across his forehead, obscuring part of his eyes. His hands were bound in front of him by heavy iron chains, and faint red marks could be seen where they chafed his wrists.
Despite this extreme humiliation, Wei Lanzhou’s back remained as straight and rigid as a pine tree.
When a constable impatiently shoved him, causing him to stagger half a step before regaining his footing, he slowly lifted his head.
On that incomparably handsome face, there was none of the panic, desperate collapse, or even slight defeat that Zhao Qihuang had anticipated. His jaw was still slightly raised, carrying an innate arrogance. Facing the commoners who pointed and wore various expressions, those deep, narrow phoenix eyes showed no trace of distress or begging, but instead held a chilling sense of cold silence and profound insight.
Such an astonishingly beautiful face caused the curses of the surrounding populace to gradually quiet down.
The reason Zhao Qihuang and Wei Lanzhou were completely incompatible, like fire and water, was largely due to his face. Wei Lanzhou’s appearance truly captivated Zhao Qihuang’s heart. He was unparalleled in handsomeness, coolly noble, and possessed a certain unrestrained, dashing air.
Thinking back, it wasn’t long after Zhao Qihuang was brought back to the capital from her hometown that she first attended a banquet with the Old Madame. Finding the banquet dull, she slipped away midway to Wangchen Tower, the capital’s most famous restaurant.
With one glance, she spotted Wei Lanzhou in a private seat by the window. At the time, he was drinking and playing word games with several noble scions, effortlessly reciting poetry and prose, his elegance unmatched in their laughter and conversation. Sunlight filtered through the carved window frame, coating him in a soft golden glow, making him ridiculously beautiful.
Zhao Qihuang didn’t know then that he was the famous Shizi of the Duke of Zhenguo’s Estate; she only assumed he was a handsome scholar raised by a good family, and her heart stirred. Tucking up her skirt, she approached him nervously to introduce herself, asking, “This gentleman looks familiar. May I ask your name?” Her voice was sweet and soft, enough to melt anyone’s heart slightly.
Yet, Wei Lanzhou merely glanced at her indifferently, a flash of distaste crossing his brow. He didn’t spare her another look, continuing to laugh and converse with others, treating her as negligible air.
Having just arrived in the capital, Zhao Qihuang was utterly ignored the first time she proactively showed favor to someone, leaving her utterly embarrassed. The surrounding people burst into laughter.
Somehow, this incident reached her paternal aunt, the current Empress. The Empress assumed Zhao Qihuang had taken a liking to Wei Lanzhou, and thinking that the Shizi was indeed exceptional in background and appearance, decided that a marriage alliance would be a fine thing.
Consequently, she sent her personal nanny to the Duke of Zhenguo’s Estate to hint that an imperial decree for their marriage might be granted. Who would have thought that upon hearing this, Wei Lanzhou would sneer openly in front of the messenger nanny and a group of onlookers, declaring, “I would sooner marry a courtesan than marry her, Zhao Qihuang.”
As if that weren’t enough, he slowly added another remark that quickly spread throughout the entire noble circle of the capital.
“What if she is wrapped in gold and jade? She is vulgar to the core, barely better than a pheasant.”
Wei Lanzhou held an extremely high position among the capital’s noble families. During that period, every young master and lady used this quote to mock and ridicule Zhao Qihuang. From that point on, the enmity between Zhao Qihuang and Wei Lanzhou was irrevocably sealed.
The procession moved swiftly. Soon, the Wei family prisoners were escorted right up to the Yongan Marquis Manor’s carriage. Dressed in luxurious silks and finery, adorned with jewels, it was impossible for Zhao Qihuang not to attract attention.
The chief constable leading the escort immediately recognized the capital’s famous Commandery Princess. He signaled the procession to halt, stepped forward, and respectfully bowed from a few steps away. “Your humble servant greets Splendid Commandery Princess.” The line of prisoners behind him also stopped.
Zhao Qihuang’s gaze unexpectedly met that familiar figure in the procession.
Wei Lanzhou’s flirtatious, ‘peach blossom’ eyes, which usually looked like they were teasing everyone, had shed all traces of affected amusement. In their depths, there was a fierce ruthlessness and resolution. This was an expression Zhao Qihuang had never seen on his face before. Without that irritating false smile, without that pretentious air of sophistication, he was starkly, cleanly defined.
Just as Zhao Qihuang was momentarily lost in thought, a sharp, angry curse erupted from the crowd.
“Wei Lanzhou! Go to hell!”
A dark object flew out from the side and, with a *smack*, hit Wei Lanzhou squarely on the corner of his forehead. Sticky yolk mixed with egg white slowly dripped down his smooth forehead.
Zhao Qihuang’s eyebrows twitched.
A slightly chubby young gentleman, dressed in a sapphire-blue brocade robe, squeezed out of the crowd and dashed forward a few steps until he reached her. The man wore a flattering smile, his voice raised high as if afraid no one would hear: “Commandery Princess, did you see that? I got revenge for you!”
He turned and spat towards Wei Lanzhou, his face alight with schadenfreude. “Hmph, always acting so superior, and now you’ve finally met your comeuppance!”