The servants of the Princess’s residence were strong and efficient. As soon as Lu Mingzhu gave the order, one of them lifted the fainted man as easily as a chick and set him down by the roadside.
To show a semblance of benevolence from the Princess’s household, the servant even draped a coarse robe over the man. The ground was bitterly cold, but with the robe covering him, he would be less likely to fall ill.
“Wait.” Yun Qiya pulled open the carriage curtain and handed the servant half a string of coins. “Take this so he can see a doctor.”
“Copper coins?” Lu Mingzhu usually rewarded servants with silver peanuts, never with such stingy sums.
“Half a string is already quite a lot.” Yun Qiya carefully tucked away the remaining coins. “So many people saw him collapse in front of your carriage. Giving him something spares us a great deal of gossip.”
“Let them talk,” Lu Mingzhu muttered, though she did not press the matter further.
The chill of a winter morning street was something only those lying upon it could truly understand—especially a man who had deliberately dressed thinly for the sake of appearance. After lying there for a while, the cold seeping up from the ground became unbearable. Pretending to stir, he slowly opened his eyes, only to find countless pairs of eyes fixed upon him.
The crowd of onlookers had formed a circle. Seeing him awaken, they began pointing and chattering noisily.
“Look, he’s awake!”
“Such luck—he crashes into a noble’s carriage, and instead of punishment, he even receives a reward!”
Reward? The man lowered his gaze to the cold, hard half-string of copper coins in his hand. His face darkened—whether from the chill or from anger, it was hard to tell.
Wasn’t it said that Princess Rongshan and her daughter both adored handsome faces? Why then had they shown not the slightest reaction upon seeing him? Could it be they hadn’t truly looked at his face?
Lu Mingzhu had promised to show Yun Qiya the world, and she did just that—taking her through nearly all the places frequented by the noble ladies of the capital. Music halls, dance pavilions, painted barges, perfumed terraces, wine houses, and bustling theaters… From dawn until dusk, they wandered, and still many places remained unseen.
Yun Qiya reclined on a soft chair in a private box at the theater. The actors’ long sleeves fluttered through the air, stirring a breeze that set the gauzy curtains swaying gently.
“How is it?” Lu Mingzhu leaned on one hand and turned to ask her. “Isn’t the figure quite fine?”
Yun Qiya nodded—the performance was indeed captivating.
“This theater only entertains female guests. The noblewomen of the capital often come here for leisure.” Lu Mingzhu lazily leaned closer. “The one performing in our room is the most famous star of their troupe.”
Hearing herself mentioned by such distinguished patrons, the actress’s eyes shimmered like autumn waves. She stepped forward and bowed gracefully. “To dance for honored guests is my greatest privilege.”
“Your movements are as graceful as a soaring swan, as fluid as a dragon.” Yun Qiya, knowing Lu Mingzhu’s intent, clapped lightly and praised, “Truly exquisite.”
“Hmph.” Seeing Yun Qiya enjoy her arrangements, Lu Mingzhu was quite pleased with herself. “Little country bumpkin, everything I’ve shown you is naturally the very best.”
“Indeed, indeed.” Yun Qiya cupped her face in her hands and lightly bumped her shoulder against Lu Mingzhu’s twice. “Luckily I have Sister Mingzhu to guide me through the capital. Otherwise, how could I have seen all this so quickly?”
“Good that you know.” Lu Mingzhu was delighted by her words. She grabbed a handful of golden melon seeds and rewarded the performer. “Sing another song for Miss Yun…”
*Bang!*
The door to the private room was slammed open. A bold-eyed young woman strode in. “I want to see who dares to steal my people.”
“It’s me.” Lu Mingzhu looked at her and sneered. “To barge into another’s room at will—is this the rule of Prince Jin’s household?”
The girls trailing behind the newcomer recognized Lu Mingzhu. Their feet, half‑stepping across the threshold, quickly retreated. They stood obediently in the corridor, silent.
“So it’s you.” The young woman’s brash expression softened slightly, though Yun Qiya could tell from her look that her relationship with Lu Mingzhu was far from cordial.
Lu Mingzhu couldn’t be bothered. “Get out.”
“I hold the rank of County Princess. How dare you order me?”
Lu Mingzhu gave a short laugh and drew out the command token of Princess Rongshan from her waist. “My mother, Princess Rongshan, holds a rank equal to that of a Prince.”
“You yourself have no title or rank.” The woman’s face darkened.
“Princess Rongshan is my mother.” Lu Mingzhu did not dispute her words—she only flaunted her mother’s status all the more.
The atmosphere grew tense; the performer knelt silently in the corner, hardly daring to breathe.
“Which family are you from? You look unfamiliar—some ignorant girl from a minor household?” The young woman drew in a deep breath, no longer sparring with Lu Mingzhu, and turned her sharp gaze on Yun Qiya. “To follow someone like Lu Mingzhu—are you truly willing to be her lapdog?”
Yun Qiya felt like an innocent passerby, suddenly bitten by a stray dog for no reason. What nonsense! Sister Mingzhu was such a good person—she had spent the whole day treating her to food and entertainment, without letting her spend a single coin.
Lu Mingzhu’s expression darkened. She turned toward Yun Qiya, lips parting as if to speak, but her eyes flickered with hesitation.
“If you had any sense, you would know—”
Yun Qiya caught the look on her face and cut the woman off before she could finish. “To be favored by Miss Lu is my honor.”
In dealing with people, nothing was worse than being two‑faced or wavering.
Lu Mingzhu’s eyes widened, staring at Yun Qiya in a daze. A faint blush crept across the rims of her ears. She hadn’t expected Yun Qiya to answer like that.
The other woman froze for a moment, then sneered. “Oh, so you truly are Lu Mingzhu’s lapdog…”
“She is the legitimate granddaughter of Marquis Chengping.” Lu Mingzhu’s spirits soared. She shifted closer to Yun Qiya, pressing against her side, her earlier embarrassment gone. “The Yun family has been loyal since the founding of the dynasty, serving faithfully for over a hundred years. Even His Majesty praises their devotion. And now you dare speak such words—are you trying to insult the descendants of loyal ministers?”
“The… Yun family?” The woman’s face shifted through several shades as she looked at Yun Qiya, her expression tangled.
If you had such a lineage, why didn’t you say so earlier? When I called you a lapdog, why didn’t you refute me—why did you just sit there smiling?
After a long silence, her face stiffened. “My apologies. Prince Jin household would never slight the family of meritorious officials.”
Quarreling with Lu Mingzhu could be dismissed as a petty feud among members of the imperial clan—but dragging loyal ministers into it was absolutely forbidden.
“County Princess, you speak too gravely.” Yun Qiya bent slightly in courtesy. “It was only a small misunderstanding.”
In front of others, she never quarreled—better to avoid losses. If anything happened, she would simply go home and quietly complain to her elders.
County Princess Jin stormed in arrogantly, but left embarrassed. The attendants trailing behind her even carefully closed the door for Yun Qiya and her companions.
Lu Mingzhu slapped the table with satisfaction. “She never wins against me—always ends up disgracing herself.”
“Sister Mingzhu, so bold and mighty!” Yun Qiya clapped enthusiastically.
After the performance, Lu Mingzhu escorted Yun Qiya home. Just as Yun Qiya was stepping down from the carriage, Lu Mingzhu suddenly called out.
“Yun Qiya.” Lu Mingzhu looked awkward, her gaze wandering everywhere but at her. “I don’t like playing with others, and I never take anyone as a lackey.”
Yun Qiya turned back, tiptoeing to smile up at her. “And I never serve as anyone’s lackey.”
“You’re younger than me.” Lu Mingzhu’s face flushed redder and redder, brighter than the lanterns under the eaves. “From now on, when you see me, you must obediently call me Sister.” With that, she dropped the curtain to block Yun Qiya’s view and hurried off in her carriage—so flustered that even the carriage itself seemed shy and panicked.
Yun Qiya watched the carriage disappear into the night, her toes scuffing the ground as she let out a soft laugh.
“What are you laughing at, standing outside the gate at night instead of coming in?” Yun Luoqing leaned against the doorway, glancing in the direction she had been staring. He rubbed his hands together. “It’s freezing—aren’t you cold? Hurry inside.”
“Brother, didn’t you go to study at the Imperial Academy? How come you’re back so soon?” Yun Qiya ran quickly through the gate, eyeing him suspiciously and whispering, “Don’t tell me your studies were too poor and they sent you home?”
“Can’t you wish me well for once?” Yun Luoqing pulled a few sheets of paper from his robe and stuffed them into her hands. “Don’t worry. My learning may be ordinary, but idling away at the Academy is easy enough.”
“What’s this?” Yun Qiya glanced down at the papers.
“Let’s talk inside.” Yun Luoqing wore splendid robes, his fine looks inherited from their parents—everyone who saw him praised him as elegant and refined.
But that image lasted only until they reached the western courtyard gate. Once inside, he bundled himself in a thick cloak, removed the jade crown, and collapsed into a lounge chair, his hair loose.
“These are the records I’ve gathered on the sons of noble families in the capital who haven’t yet been betrothed.” He shivered as he drank two mouthfuls of hot soup. To keep up appearances outside, he had nearly frozen himself senseless.
“Good family background, simple temperament, strict in observing male virtue, parents who are kind and gentle, and decent looks—they’re all listed here.” After finishing his soup, Yun Luoqing leaned back comfortably in the chair. “I even took half a day’s leave from the Academy just to bring this to you.”
“Only a few sheets?” Yun Qiya flipped through them carelessly, her interest fading.
“Well, there’s no helping it. Good men are rare.” Seeing his sister unimpressed, Yun Luoqing tried to console her. “If you can’t find a suitable one, it doesn’t matter. You still have me. Between the two of us, surely one will manage to live off a rich spouse.”
Yun Qiya turned the papers over and over, then closed her eyes with a resigned sigh. “Brother, living off someone isn’t essential. Let’s just rely on our own family instead.”
“You spend two years at the Imperial Academy, build good ties with our cousins, and let Uncle arrange a comfortable post for you.” She had already abandoned the idea of finding a wealthy match. “As for me, I’ll stay home with Grandmother, Mother, and Aunt, keeping them happy.”
“Uncle and Aunt are good people—they won’t let us live in hardship.” Yun Qiya tore the papers into shreds. “No meal outside can compare to the taste of our own family’s table.”
“You’re right.” Yun Luoqing agreed wholeheartedly. “I should remind Father to take good care of Grandfather and Grandmother at home. And I’ll go to the ancestral hall to offer incense, asking our forebears to bless the elders with long life.”
“Then let’s go now.” Yun Qiya was full of initiative. “From now on, I’ll go offer incense to them every few days, bringing up this matter to our ancestors again and again.”
“Now?” Yun Luoqing glanced at the pitch‑black window. Wasn’t it a little disrespectful to pay respects to the ancestors in the middle of the night?
“They’re our forebears. No matter when their descendants come to offer incense, they’ll only be pleased—why would they find fault?” Yun Qiya spoke with conviction. “Haven’t you heard? Elders always dote most on the youngest. Right now, we’re the youngest of the family, so the ancestors will surely indulge us most.”
“That makes sense.” Convinced, Yun Luoqing bundled up with his sister in thick cloaks. The two slipped into the ancestral hall under cover of night, made their vows, and only then returned to bed, sleeping soundly.
Securing a wealthy match was far more exhausting than simply asking the ancestors for blessings.
Incense smoke curled upward, drifting away among the memorial tablets and fading into the air as a new day dawned.
At court, another noisy morning began.
Military officials quarreled with civil officials, the Six Ministries bickered among themselves, and imperial princes clashed with ministers. But since the current emperor lacked the tolerance of the late sovereign, the disputes remained verbal. In the former emperor’s time, full‑blown brawls sometimes broke out in the great court assembly.
Prince Jin had been minding his own business in a corner when suddenly the Left Assistant Minister of the Ministry of Rites submitted a memorial against him. The man’s eloquence was sharp and relentless; before Prince Jin could even respond, the accusations were finished.
Why? Prince Jin was bewildered. He had no ties with Marquis Chengping’s household—neither friendship nor enmity. Why then would the usually steady Minister Yun single him out?
But when Prince Jin heard that after scolding him, Minister Yun went on to berate a minor official from the Hanlin Academy—someone who didn’t even have the qualifications to attend the grand court assembly—he finally felt reassured.
Minister Yun had criticized him only briefly, but his reproach of that minor official was relentless. Clearly, the person Minister Yun disliked most was not him.
Even the Emperor was puzzled. Minister Yun was known for his gentle temperament and rarely spoke harshly. What had that Hanlin editor, some fellow surnamed Zhou, done to deserve such a lengthy memorial of censure?
After court, the Emperor deliberately pulled out Yun Boyan’s memorial. “Minister Yun truly has a gift for words—his scolding flows with vigor.”
“Bring me the evaluation list of the Hanlin Academy that the Ministry of Personnel submitted yesterday.” The Emperor took the list from the eunuch scribe and found the name Zhou Yuzhi.
He remembered vaguely—this was the *tanhualang*, the third‑place scholar from two years ago.
“Your Majesty.” A guard hurried in from outside the hall. “Prince Ruining requests an audience.”
“Quickly, let him in.” The Emperor tossed aside the list and rose to greet his son.
“Your health is frail. Whatever you need, you could have sent word through attendants—why trouble yourself to come in person?” The Emperor, eager yet awkward in his affection, could only hand his son a cup of nourishing tea, carefully adjusted to the right temperature.
“Father, I hear that you and Mother are preparing to choose a consort for me?” Prince Ruining’s face was hidden beneath a heavy cloak, his long fingers bloodless, pale with illness.
He accepted the tea, his expression weary and indifferent. “Daughters are the treasured pearls of their parents’ hands, their dearest hearts. Why burden an innocent girl with me? I beg Father to abandon this idea.”