19
Mu Liangze was already waiting by the carriage when Yu Shu emerged, with Lian Sheng standing dutifully at his side. As she reached the carriage step, Mu Liangze extended a hand to assist her—but Lian Sheng moved faster, his arm outstretched first.
Yu Shu’s gaze flickered between the two offered hands, her eyes glinting with quiet amusement. With a deliberate pivot, she bypassed both men and grasped Qingli’s arm instead, allowing her maid to steady her descent.
A muscle twitched near Mu Liangze’s jaw as he shot Lian Sheng a sidelong glance, but he swallowed whatever remark he might have made.
At the estate’s entrance, a steward reviewed their invitation and gift registry before ushering them inside. Servants guided them through sprawling grounds adorned with carved pillars, winding corridors, and ornamental bridges arching over lotus-dappled ponds—every detail a testament to the Grand Princess’s exalted status.
Their path led first to the main hall, where the weight of the impending audience settled over Yu Shu like a cloak.
The grand hall was dominated by the imposing figure of Grand Princess Changping seated at its center. Adorned in an exquisitely embroidered gown with golden thread patterns that shimmered subtly with every movement, she wore her wealth with effortless grace—opulent yet dignified, each gold hairpin placed with deliberate precision.
To the untrained eye, her attire might appear merely elegant. But connoisseurs like Yu Shu recognized the fortune draped over her shoulders—every stitch a calculated display of power.
“May the Grand Princess be blessed with prosperity and boundless joy,” Mu Liangze announced, leading Yu Shu and Lian Sheng in their formal greetings.
The Grand Princess studied them briefly before waving a perfunctory hand. “Third Prince, you honor us with your presence from distant Xijiang. Do pardon any inadequacies in our hospitality.”
Mu Liangze responded with polished diplomacy, “Your generosity overwhelms us. We lack nothing.”
Throughout the exchange, Yu Shu remained motionless beside him—no unnecessary gestures, no stray glances. She became near-invisible, a shadow clinging to propriety, willing the Grand Princess’s piercing gaze to slide past her unnoticed.
Yet despite her efforts, Yu Shu’s striking attire seemed to have drawn the Grand Princess’s attention after all. Those sharp eyes lingered on her, studying the veiled figure with unsettling interest.
“Rumors claim the Ninth Princess of Xijiang is a peerless beauty,” the Grand Princess remarked, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Even veiled, your elegance shines through. One can only imagine how breathtaking your true appearance must be.”
Yu Shu’s pulse spiked. There was something ominous in that honeyed tone—was this a prelude to demanding she remove her veil? If my face is revealed now… The pleasantries would shatter instantly. She could already envision them being thrown out in disgrace.
“Your Highness flatters me too much,” Yu Shu demurred, ducking her head in a show of modesty. “Xijiang is but a small, remote land. Our ancestral traditions dictate veils precisely to avoid such… exaggerated assumptions. In truth, my appearance is merely passable—nothing worthy of praise.”
She infused her voice with practiced humility, even feigning a hint of shame. By anchoring the veil to sacred tradition, she built a defensive barrier—one the Grand Princess would breach at her own political peril.
The Grand Princess’s piercing gaze remained fixed on her, scrutinizing every detail as if peeling back layers of disguise. That relentless inspection prickled Yu Shu’s skin—her back stiffened, every hair standing on end, while her pulse hammered loud enough to drown out reason. Sweat slicked her palms within the folds of her sleeves.
Then, the words she dreaded:
“There’s an uncanny familiarity about you, Princess. Have we met before?”
A blade of ice slid down Yu Shu’s spine. Was this a test? The veil obscured everything—no facial feature could betray her. Yet instinct screamed that the Grand Princess’s words were a hunter’s snare, deliberately laid.
Think. Fast.
“I’ve never set foot beyond Xijiang’s borders until now,” she countered, voice smooth as polished jade. “This visit with Third Royal Brother marks my first journey to Great Xia. Your Highness must be mistaken.”
A weighted pause. “Is that so?” The Grand Princess’s eyes narrowed—that inexplicable sense of recognition lingering like a stubborn shadow.
Yu Shu met the unspoken challenge with glacial calm. “Indeed.”
Mu Liangzhe, sensing the tension, stepped in with a diplomat’s smile. “For Her Highness to find our Ninth Princess familiar at first meeting—what a rare bond of fate!”
“Ninth?” The Grand Princess’s expression darkened instantly, as if the word itself were a poison. Every muscle in her face tensed, her earlier cordiality freezing over.
Mu Liangzhe blinked at her abrupt shift, but Yu Shu understood with crystalline clarity—hatred of that name ran bone-deep.
Damage control. Now.
“Your Highness,” Yu Shu interjected smoothly, “in Xijiang’s royal house, I’m simply called ‘Ninth’ because I’m the youngest of nine—four elder princes and four princesses precede me.” A different lineage. A different “Ninth.” She emphasized the numbers like a shield.
Yet logic couldn’t dissolve the Grand Princess’s visceral recoil. Of course. That cursed ranking—ninth—was the root of her instinctive revulsion. Even the arithmetic difference couldn’t scrub the stain of association.
Where moments ago there’d been perfunctory interest, now only glacial dismissal remained. The Grand Princess turned away, every line of her body screaming leave.
Just then, another group arrived to offer their congratulations, providing the Grand Princess with a timely excuse to dismiss them. With a wave of her hand, she summoned attendants to usher Yu Shu’s party out.
The moment they stepped away from the hall, Yu Shu exhaled imperceptibly—escape at last.
Mu Liangzhe shot her a sidelong glance as they walked. “The Grand Princess seemed… displeased with you,” he murmured, suspicion lacing his tone.
Yu Shu blinked up at him with practiced innocence. “I’ve no idea why.”
His jaw tightened. After a visible effort to restrain himself, he turned on his heel and strode off without another word.
As custom dictated, the banquet segregated guests by gender—men to the front courtyard, women to the rear. Forced to part ways, Yu Shu followed a servant toward the inner quarters with Qingli in tow.
The garden pavilion welcomed them with an opulent display: rare blooms arranged like jewels along the pathways, their fragrance carried by a gentle breeze. Butterflies danced between the petals—a scene of cultivated serenity that belied the tension still coiled in Yu Shu’s shoulders.
Before they even reached the pavilion, bursts of laughter and chatter spilled through the air—proof that the gathering inside was already in full swing.
“I heard the Ninth Princess of Xijiang is here.”
“The one sent for the political marriage?”
“Who else could it be?”
“They say she wears a veil every day. No one’s seen her face—who knows if she’s even pretty?”
“If she were beautiful, why would she hide it?” A disdainful voice cut through the murmurs. “Only one reason to cover your face like that—she must be hideous!”
“True enough!” Another voice chimed in. “What woman blessed with beauty wouldn’t want the world to know? Hiding it makes no sense.”
“But I heard it’s their tradition in Xijiang—unmarried women must veil themselves,” someone offered weakly.
“Pah!” The first woman scoffed. “Tradition? They say ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do.’ If she’s in Great Xia, she should follow our customs. That stubborn veil only proves one thing—she’s too ugly to show her face!”
**