Zhao Qihuang recognized him. He was the second son of Vice Minister Liu of the Ministry of Rites.
A good-for-nothing wastrel who usually excelled at fawning over the powerful and kicking those who were down, always adjusting his sails to the wind.
She remembered that one year, on Wei Lanzhou’s birthday, Liu Mian, seeking to curry favor, had specially found several alluring dancing girls to present. Wei Lanzhou had publicly dismissed them with a single phrase: “Common painted harlots, unbearable to look at,” causing even Vice Minister Liu to utterly lose face.
Liu Mian hadn’t dared to utter a single peep back then. Now, seeing the Wei family collapse, he had jumped out to show off his might and gloat over their misfortune.
Liu Mian fawned over Zhao Qihuang, saying, “Wei Lanzhou publicly humiliated Commandery Princess before. Today, I have avenged that slight on your behalf.”
A cold glint flashed in Zhao Qihuang’s eyes, yet a curve of approval appeared on her lips: “Young Master Liu is indeed sensible.”
She deliberately drew out the final words, her gaze flowing sideways to peer at Wei Lanzhou inside the prisoner cart.
This time, those dead-water eyes finally showed a ripple.
That gaze was like a dagger dipped in deadly poison, slowly slicing away at Zhao Qihuang’s face.
Zhao Qihuang’s red lips lifted slightly. This was the arrogant and untamed Wei Lanzhou she remembered.
She slowly withdrew her gaze, gently stroking the mutton-fat jade bracelet on her wrist, and said lazily to the chief constable, “If the Emperor shows mercy and spares their lives, remember to send word to the Yongan Marquis Manor beforehand.”
The chief constable was momentarily stunned, then immediately caught on, his face creased with understanding: “Does Commandery Princess mean…”
Zhao Qihuang covered her mouth and chuckled lightly, “My manor is just missing a watchdog.”
“Yes, yes, yes!” The chief constable nodded and bowed deeply. “If that day truly comes, this humble officer will be the first to notify the Yongan Marquis Manor.”
A mournful curse suddenly erupted from the prisoner cart: “Zhao Qihuang! You poisonous woman who kicks people while they are down!” Feng Qianqian, her hair disheveled, lunged at the bars. “You will surely be struck by lightning!”
This curse made Zhao Qihuang’s fingertips pause slightly.
She slowly raised her eyes, recognizing the once haughty face through the flying dust—Wei Lanzhou’s most beloved cousin, Miss Feng, who had previously led the mockery of her as a “country bumpkin” from the countryside at the flower viewing banquet.
Zhao Qihuang’s gaze gradually darkened.
The world only knew her as the Splendid Commandery Princess personally conferred by the Emperor, a golden branch and jade leaf, but they did not know that her life had not always been so smooth.
When she was three, just after her mother, Lady Bai, was buried, her father, Zhao Yuanshan, couldn’t wait to marry his childhood sweetheart, Lady Lin. On that snowy night, the young Zhao Qihuang was wrapped in a thin cotton blanket by a wet nurse and sent away in a dilapidated carriage.
She remained in that impoverished, remote place for eight years.
It wasn’t until four years ago that her aunt, who was then a consort, found an enlightened monk from somewhere. The monk analyzed her aunt’s Fate, saying that her destiny was closely linked to that of a junior member of the Zhao clan, sharing both prosperity and suffering.
The junior member secretly referred to in this prophecy was Zhao Qihuang.
It was precisely because of this prophecy that she was brought back to the Marquis Manor.
The education Zhao Qihuang received in the county was far inferior to that of the capital’s noblewomen. When she first arrived, those people, mindful of the Marquis Manor’s power, flattered her openly but scorned her behind her back.
Especially this Feng Qianqian, who frequently relied on the Wei family’s influence to ridicule her, the “country bumpkin” from the countryside. She claimed Zhao Qihuang was vulgar and ignorant, possessing only empty beauty, and wasn’t even fit to carry Wei Lanzhou’s shoes.
Thinking of this, Zhao Qihuang scoffed: “I was wondering who it was. Miss Feng is the most aloof, arrogant, and pure.”
Feng Qianqian raised her proud head and let out a disdainful sneer.
“To make you a gatekeeper would indeed disgrace you,” Zhao Qihuang’s eyes shifted. “When the time comes, I will personally go to the largest brothel in the South City and find a good placement for you.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” Feng Qianqian trembled with rage, her face flushed red, her eyes filled with terror.
Zhao Qihuang’s slender eyebrows arched high: “Whether I dare or not, you will know when the time comes.”
The surrounding crowd grew larger and larger, pointing and discussing.
The chief constable saw the atmosphere growing tense, cold sweat beading on his temples, and hurriedly stepped forward, bowing: “Commandery Princess, the hour is late. If these hundred or so prisoners are not quickly incarcerated, I fear…”
Zhao Qihuang casually played with the intricate embroidery on her cuff, her gaze shifting between the ashen-faced Feng Qianqian and the silent, abyss-like Wei Lanzhou.
After a long moment, her red lips parted slightly: “Granted.”
The chief constable felt as if he had been granted a great pardon. He turned and yelled at the top of his lungs, “Move it, all of you!”
The clanking of iron chains and the rumbling of the prisoner cart wheels intertwined into a discordant sound. The Wei family members gradually disappeared amidst the harsh noise.
The onlookers, seeing no more spectacle, dispersed in twos and threes.
Liu Mian, however, approached like a cat smelling fish, his waist bent almost double: “Commandery Princess was truly magnificent today, making this subordinate…”
“Young Master Liu,” Zhao Qihuang interrupted his flattery, saying dismissively, “You handled today’s matter well.”
Upon receiving praise, Liu Mian immediately beamed.
“It is my honor to be able to share Commandery Princess’s burden…”
Zhao Qihuang had no interest in lingering and instructed her maid, “It’s getting late. Return to the manor.”
Liu Mian stood frozen, mouth agape, and only managed a stiff bow after a long while: “Respectfully seeing off Commandery Princess…”
After the carriage drove away, he straightened his back, rubbing his chin and muttering, “This little woman’s temper has certainly grown…”
Just as the carriage rounded the corner, Zhao Qihuang lifted the curtain embroidered with gold thread. She looked at Liu Mian’s smug, self-satisfied retreating figure, and the smile completely vanished from her face.
“What I hate most is this kind of despicable person who kicks people when they are down and clings to power.”
When the Duke of Zhenguo hadn’t fallen, this Liu Mian had never stood on her side. Now he came seeking a favor from her?
Xiao Cheng tentatively asked, “What does Commandery Princess mean?”
A fierce look flashed in Zhao Qihuang’s eyes: “Order someone to find a sack, drag him into an alley, and beat him severely. I want him unable to get out of bed for at least three months.”
Xiao Cheng understood and whispered, “I will go handle it now.”
Zhao Qihuang lowered the curtain, sneering inwardly. What repulsive, filthy thing dared to run in front of her, thinking itself clever enough to soil her sight?
The carriage slowly drove away from the Duke of Zhenguo’s Estate in the gathering twilight. The wheels ground against the bluestone road, emitting a monotonous, dull sound.
They returned to the Yongan Marquis Manor when the moon was high in the sky.
Zhao Qihuang sat before the dressing table. Xiao Hong removed her hairpins and ornaments, letting her black hair fall like a waterfall. The person in the bronze mirror had a somewhat pale complexion, and the eyes that were usually full of spirit were now veiled with a thin layer of haze.
“Commandery Princess, please rest early,” Xiao Hong handed over a cup of calming tea, gently advising.
Zhao Qihuang took the teacup. “You may leave first.”
Seeing her mistress’s clearly preoccupied appearance, Xiao Hong wanted to speak but ultimately didn’t dare to ask further. She curtsied and withdrew.
Inside the sleeping chamber, the candlelight flickered, casting her shadow long and thin upon the wall.
Zhao Qihuang, however, had no desire to sleep.
She lay beneath the soft silk quilt, her eyes fixed on the intricate, jeweled canopy above her head.
The Duke of Zhenguo’s Estate had fallen. If the events of the dream were going to become reality, then how should she change the tragedy of her remaining life?