It turned out that the “treasure” Sister Song had shown her—whether proper or not was debatable—but it was certainly pleasing to the eye.
She sat beside Song Daowan, watching the song and dance on stage. Her heart was full of emotion: truly, the capital was the best. Outside, she would never have the chance to witness such a spectacle.
Song Daowan swirled the wine in her cup, then poured Yun Qiya a glass of honeyed drink. Leaning close, she whispered, “Since you don’t like wine, drink this instead.”
“Thank you, Sister Song.” Yun Qiya raised her cup, lightly clinked it against Song Daowan’s, and took two sips of the sweet drink—just as a commotion sounded outside the door.
The women seated watching the dance all rose and turned toward the entrance.
“Greetings to Your Highness.”
“Peace to Your Highness.”
The woman who entered wore a palace gown embroidered with golden cloud patterns, her hair adorned with a phoenix hairpin. She looked no more than thirty, but what outshone her beauty was the aura she carried—majestic, yet not overbearing.
This was the mistress of the estate, the current emperor’s younger sister, Princess Rongshan. Her consort had passed away from illness several years ago, and she had not taken another. She resided permanently in a villa on the outskirts of the capital, devoted to spiritual cultivation. This estate, named *Wuyou Baihuan* (Hall of Carefree Pleasures), was one of her properties.
Yun Qiya glanced at the dancers on stage, each with their own charm, then at the gentle, attentive maidservants surrounding Princess Rongshan. Such a way of “cultivation,” she thought, was not bad at all.
“Today I’ve arranged a banquet here at the villa simply to invite you young ladies to enjoy yourselves. There’s no need for excessive ceremony.” Princess Rongshan looked around at the room full of lively, charming girls, her smile growing warmer. “Sit down and chat.”
Some tried to curry favor, rushing to say flattering words. Princess Rongshan responded with a smile or two, but she didn’t seem particularly moved.
Yun Qiya’s seat was neither too near nor too far, but her sharp eyes quickly saw that the princess was long accustomed to such praise.
A person of this rank was rarely swayed by words, and difficult to please. In fact, she might even subconsciously look down on those who tried too eagerly to ingratiate themselves.
Realizing this, Yun Qiya withdrew her gaze and focused on the music and dance.
Before long, several palace maids carried in the true treasures: a pair of blood-red coral ornaments, each four or five feet tall.
Blood coral comes from the deep sea and is extremely difficult to harvest. This pair was a rare marvel indeed. Even those born into noble families could not help but exclaim in wonder.
“The Empress’s fiftieth birthday is approaching. What do you all think if I present these as my congratulatory gift?” Princess Rongshan raised her brows slightly, clearly pleased with their reaction.
The coral gleamed like blood, magnificently splendid.
Yun Qiya suddenly understood—this was the “treasure” Sister Song had mentioned, not the musicians who had performed earlier.
Talented ladies immediately began composing poems and verses for the coral, praising its beauty, the Empress’s virtue, and Princess Rongshan’s thoughtfulness.
Song Daowan also composed a piece and even received a reward from the princess.
Like her father, Yun Qiya had never cared much for books and was hopeless at poetry. All she could do was clap enthusiastically.
“Daowan, which family’s young lady is that beside you?” Princess Rongshan’s gaze fell on the girl beside Song Daowan. The girl’s looks were truly exquisite—especially her bright, lively eyes, sparkling with light, carrying a trace of sweetness no matter whom she looked at. She was already past forty, and what she loved most were lively, beautiful young girls.
“Peace to Your Highness. I am the granddaughter of Marquis Chengping.” Yun Qiya lifted a shy smile, as if she wanted to look at Princess Rongshan but felt a little embarrassed.
“Marquis Chengping…” Princess Rongshan laughed. “No wonder Daowan treats you so warmly—you’re a junior from Minister Yun’s household.”
Song Daowan added, “My cousin has just returned to the capital. Aunt was worried she might grow bored staying at home, so she asked me to bring her out for a bit of diversion.”
“Elders are naturally caring, always thinking of the younger generation,” Princess Rongshan said with understanding, then asked gently, “Are you settling well in the capital?”
“Thank you for Your Highness’s concern. Everything in the capital is wonderful, and I am fortunate as well.” Yun Qiya’s cheeks flushed, her face tinged with bashfulness. “Without good fortune, how could I return to the capital and immediately behold such splendid blood coral, and even be graced with Your Highness’s beauty?”
Princess Rongshan had heard such flattery countless times and grown weary of it. Yet from this pretty young girl’s lips, the words sounded pleasant. She beckoned Yun Qiya forward, removed a hair ornament from her own temple, and placed it in Yun Qiya’s hair. “You are very lovely—this ornament suits you well.”
“Thank you for Your Highness’s favor.” Yun Qiya accepted without fuss. Though she did not yet know Princess Rongshan well, she had an animal-like instinct. Sensing the princess’s faint fondness for her, she instinctively revealed the smile she usually used to win over her elders.
No one enjoys showing warmth only to be met with a stiff or distant response.
Yun Qiya’s reaction, however, greatly pleased the princess. Soon, another gift hung at her waist—a jade pendant carved in the shape of a hibiscus blossom, bestowed by Princess Rongshan.
Not only that, the princess specifically instructed Song Daowan to bring Yun Qiya to her villa often in the future.
The other young ladies present were envious to the point of red eyes. They had composed poems and verses, yet somehow this girl, newly returned to the capital, won the princess’s favor. Even Song Daowan felt a twinge of envy at Yun Qiya’s luck. Her own reputation for spiritual cultivation had earned her a measure of regard from Princess Rongshan. But Yun Qiya, on her very first meeting, had been personally invited to visit often—who would not envy that?
At noon, Princess Rongshan hosted a banquet. When it ended, she encouraged the girls to wander freely and enjoy themselves without restraint.
The villa sprawled wide, surrounded by mountains, water, and trees. No wonder the princess preferred living here rather than in her palace residence.
At first, Yun Qiya stayed with Song Daowan, but when the princess summoned Song Daowan to speak on doctrine, Yun Qiya tactfully excused herself and did not follow. She was unfamiliar with the villa and had no desire to join the others in climbing hills. After years outside the capital, she had climbed enough mountains; these little hills held no appeal. Crossing a covered bridge, she came upon a lotus pond. In the cold season, it held only withered stalks and tattered leaves, bleak and desolate.
By the pond sat a fisherman in a veiled hat and black cloak. Yun Qiya glanced at the bucket beside him—inside was nothing but water.
Afraid the fisherman might vent his frustration at not catching anything on her, Yun Qiya lightened her steps, tiptoeing as she prepared to circle around the other side.
Everyone knows that when someone fails to catch fish, they’ll only blame the water for being too cold, the air too stifling, the bait not salty enough, or passersby for being too noisy—never their own lack of skill.
Cough, cough, cough. Behind her came the sound of coughing, followed by the splash of fish darting away in the water.
Alert, Yun Qiya turned her head. This had nothing to do with her. But the cough sounded oddly familiar.
The cold wind lifted the fisherman’s veiled hat, revealing a pale, sickly face—it was the kind man who had once picked up her lost purse.
Yun Qiya stopped, retraced a few steps, and said: “Sir, the spot you’ve chosen has too many weeds and dead leaves. Not only will the fish avoid the hook, but the line is likely to snag and break. Why don’t you try over there instead?”
Remembering he was ill, she kept a safe distance.
The man removed his hat and slowly turned toward her. He looked like a withered tree, lifeless from head to toe. Even his gaze was dull and sluggish, like a broken millstone.
When he looked her way, Yun Qiya bent her knees slightly and pointed to a spot on the left. “That place is better for fishing.”
He said nothing. Just as Yun Qiya thought he wouldn’t respond, he slowly stood, gathered his rod, and walked toward the spot she had indicated.
Thinking of his upright character—returning lost property without hesitation—Yun Qiya picked up the veiled hat and empty bucket he had left behind and carried them over to him.
The man said nothing, and Yun Qiya stayed silent too. She sat on another large stone, waiting for Sister Song to come out, keeping twenty paces between them.
From afar, the crisp laughter of young girls drifted over with the wind. From the sound alone, Yun Qiya could tell they were having a wonderful time. In the pond beside her, plump fish swam back and forth, their tails flicking up little splashes as though mocking her.
Yun Qiya tossed a pebble into the water. One of the big fish sprayed a mouthful of water back at her. Stupid little fish—how dare you provoke me?!
Rolling up her embroidered wide sleeves, she set her shawl down on the stone, bent to lift a larger rock, and hurled it into the pond. A great splash rose, soaking her skirt and shoes. Moments later, the fish that had taunted her floated belly-up to the surface.
“Even the rooster at the village gate doesn’t dare cross me—let alone a mere fish.” Satisfied, Yun Qiya picked up the stunned fish, only to feel as though someone’s gaze was fixed upon her. She turned her head and met the eyes of the man holding the fishing rod.
The cold wind lifted Yun Qiya’s skirt. The fish in her hand revived and thrashed wildly.
“The other day you kindly picked up my lost purse. Since you clearly are not in want of silver or gold, let this fish serve as my token of thanks.” Yun Qiya tossed the struggling fish into the man’s empty bucket.
The man looked at the bucket, then at the fishing rod from which a fish had just fled, startled by the noise the young girl had made. In the end, he said nothing. Forget it—he was a man already close to death; why bother with such trifles?
“The rod!” Yun Qiya saw the float in the water tremble and whispered excitedly to remind him: “Sir, the fish has bitten—quickly, pull the rod!”
Brother, the fish is already on the hook—why are you so slow? You’ll drive me mad! If you fail to catch it, won’t it seem as though the spot I chose wasn’t good enough?
The man lifted the rod, and sure enough, a half‑palm‑sized winter carp dangled from the line.
“It’s caught!” Yun Qiya said with pride. The place she had chosen was indeed good—so soon, and already a fish had taken the bait.
Still mindful of his noble status, she added a compliment: “Sir, your fishing skill is remarkable! In such a short time, you’ve caught a fish. It’s so plump—perfect for soup, or steamed and served cold.”
The line, with the fish still hanging, drooped beside the bucket. Yun Qiya quickly said, “Allow me—no need to soil your hands.”
Her hands had just held a fish, and she hadn’t washed them yet.
After placing the fish in the bucket and washing her hands, Yun Qiya felt she had repaid his kindness for picking up her lost purse. Smiling brightly, she said: “Fishing requires quiet. I won’t disturb you further—farewell.”
“You are Yun Boyan’s niece?” The man, silent until now, looked at the fish thrashing in the bucket and finally spoke for the first time.