Qin Fei couldn’t help but size him up. Only when she met that cold, detached gaze did she realize—Yes. He was here purely to settle his own score.
In the original tale, Cen Hejue was the type to repay every slight. Qin Xiu had cost him his dignity; there was no way he would let her off easily.
As for that kiss between her and Cen Hejue at the Gu residence… Qin Fei couldn’t stop recalling that handsome face drawing closer, the heat of his breath brushing against her skin. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe a single kiss would make Cen Hejue turn his attitude toward her upside down.
“Hejue, what brings you into the palace today?” The Emperor himself doubted Cen Hejue would come for Qin Fei’s sake. Their relations had been strained, and a brief engagement was hardly enough to draw them closer.
Cen Hejue’s glance at Qin Xiu was like a blade of ice, making her shiver on the spot.
Qin Xiu had no idea that the tea she offered him had been drugged, and even less why his gaze now seemed so chilling.
The Emperor felt a pang of unease. Unlike his daughter, he feared Cen Hejue might harbor some twisted intent toward her.
“Third Princess.” Cen Hejue’s eyes swept over her, his tone unreadable: “You’ve reached the age to marry, have you not?”
The Emperor’s eyes widened.
Consort Zheng instantly pulled her daughter behind her, terrified that Cen Hejue might break off his betrothal to Qin Fei and demand Qin Xiu instead.
Disgust flickered in Qin Xiu’s eyes. At the Gu residence, she had indeed offered that cup of tea—partly to humiliate Qin Fei, partly to curry favor with Cen Hejue.
Yes, his looks were striking. But in her eyes, he was nothing compared to Song Jinglan—gentle, considerate, wielding immense power, and yet despised by her father. Cen Hejue’s nature was far from pure.
Outside, everyone bowed to Cen Hejue—not out of respect for his integrity, but out of fear of his authority and ruthless methods.
Such a man was like a beast lurking in a deep pool, ready to devour.
Qin Xiu felt not only fear, but revulsion.
That Qin Fei should end up with such a fate filled her with secret delight. But if he now regretted it, if he meant to cast off Qin Fei and marry her instead—Qin Xiu thought she might burst into tears.
“Perceptor, what do you mean by this?” She forced a calm facade, though her hands trembled beneath her sleeves.
Cen Hejue raised a brow, catching the wariness in her eyes. He nearly laughed. The fleeting mockery on his face did not escape Qin Fei’s notice.
Good heavens.
Qin Fei wanted to tell the family of three that they were overthinking things.
Cen Hejue said, “The Third Princess has reached marriageable age, yet her conduct and bearing lack the dignity befitting a princess. As the tutor of the princes and princesses, I am truly ashamed.”
The Emperor, realizing Cen Hejue wasn’t proposing to wed Qin Xiu, let out a long sigh of relief.
“Clearly, the Emperor and Consort Zheng have indulged her far too much,” Cen Hejue added coldly.
Qin Fei couldn’t help but admire him. Anyone else would never dare speak so bluntly—directly accusing the Emperor and his consort of failing in their duties. That was the sort of offense that could cost a man his head.
No wonder he was the villain.
“It is indeed my failing—I have neglected her upbringing.” Consort Zheng forced a couple of awkward laughs. In front of Cen Hejue, she dared not show temper, only squeezed Qin Xiu’s hand to calm her daughter’s nerves.
The Emperor gave a grunt of agreement: “Hejue speaks truly. Xiu’er has been frail since childhood. Apart from Ah Fei, I have indeed treated Xiu’er with excessive leniency.”
Qin Fei: *…Excuse me? Why am I being dragged into this?*
Consort Zheng glanced at Cen Hejue and said, “Perceptor, you have worked tirelessly teaching the princes and princesses all these years. I have long wished to reward you properly, but never knew what you might like. Since you are here today, I may as well ask—what is it that you desire?”
The hall quickly echoed with his reply: “Zhen Ding Prefecture will do.”
Qin Fei nearly choked on her own saliva. She had expected him to offer a polite refusal, but he hadn’t let the words fall to the ground at all.
Zhen Ding Prefecture… In the original story, it was barely mentioned. A small northern borderland in Great Qin—what could Cen Hejue want with it?
Clearly, even the Emperor was puzzled. Had Cen Hejue asked for a strategic military post, he would have questioned him closely. But Zhen Ding was remote—what was there worth coveting?
“Zhen Ding Prefecture was under the Third Princess’s charge. Yet now, she cannot even manage a single maid, let alone a city.” Cen Hejue lifted his lids. “As it happens, my sister-in-law loves the textiles produced there, and my nephew adores its snow pears. If Consort Zheng is truly willing to part with it, then Zhen Ding is all I ask.”
At that, the Emperor’s expression brightened. Yes—Zhen Ding was not famed for much, but its weaving and snow pears were beloved among women and children.
Though Cen Hejue was ruthless, he was known to treat his brother’s family well. The Emperor had heard as much and quickly declared, “No need for Consort Zheng or the Third Princess to agree. The princess is still young—how could she govern a city? Since Madam Cen favors it, Zhen Ding shall henceforth belong to the Cen household.”
Cen Hejue bowed: “The realm belongs to the Emperor. I merely take a small convenience from it.”
A true schemer—he had taken profit from another’s hands, yet left them feeling pleased.
Leaving the Zichen Hall, Qin Fei stole a glance at Cen Hejue. His face was calm, as though he hadn’t just asked the Emperor for a city. She had thought he would at least retaliate against Qin Xiu. Instead, he had only asked for Zhen Ding Prefecture.
“…Well.”
In any case, she wasn’t the one being targeted. Let Cen Hejue deal with Qin Xiu however he pleased. She only needed to play the salted-fish role—do nothing, care about nothing.
“Why so quiet?” A low voice drifted beside her. At some point, Cen Hejue had stepped up to her side.
“Uh…” Qin Fei glanced at him. “You… are you all right?”
A faint flush rose unbidden to his cheeks. He hadn’t expected her to ask *that*.
“I’m perfectly fine.”
Qin Fei gave a little “oh,” not intending to prolong the conversation. She was about to say goodbye and retreat to the palace to collapse when he suddenly said: “I’m sorry.”
She: *?*
Cen Hejue turned his face toward her. That usually cool, detached countenance now carried a rare seriousness. “At the Gu residence—my apologies.”
She hadn’t thought him the type to feel guilty. She’d assumed he was the sort to kiss and forget. Clearing her throat, she replied, “Perceptor, didn’t you already apologize back at the Gu residence?”
As she spoke, she patted his shoulder. “Given your condition at the time, I can understand.”
Cen Hejue studied her a moment longer. “What do you want?”
Qin Fei blinked. “Huh?”
This felt suspiciously like the aftermath of a domineering-CEO romance scene. She couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips, though she kept her face composed. “What do you mean?”
He read the play-acting in her expression. “What happened today was my fault. If there’s something you want, you can…”
“Can you take me out somewhere?” The girl cut him off quickly. She had originally thought to ask him for money. But then she remembered her own lavish palace quarters. Even if she hadn’t yet explored them, with the Emperor’s flair for appearances, her family’s wealth must be considerable.
Besides, she would have to live under Cen Hejue’s authority in the future. It didn’t seem wise to ask him outright for money.
At her request, Cen Hejue’s brows drew together. He found it troublesome—if only she had asked for money instead.
“Where does the Princess wish to go?”
He hadn’t refused. That alone was promising.
Qin Fei thought it over. Since arriving in this world, she hadn’t truly explored it. Her days had been confined to palace halls and classrooms. Even today’s visit to the Gu residence hadn’t given her a chance to wander outside.
If she were to leave the Cen household someday, she ought to understand this world better.
“It doesn’t matter. As long as I’m with you, anywhere will do.” Qin Fei smiled brightly. Cen Hejue, however, heard in her words the faint echo of *marry a chicken, follow the chicken; marry a dog, follow the dog.*
His brows furrowed even deeper.
“Then tomorrow.” Cen Hejue seemed to recall something, his gaze flickering as he said lightly, “Tomorrow at the hour of Si, I will come to fetch Your Highness.”
Qin Fei was naturally delighted. After bidding him farewell, she returned to the palace and immediately had Er Ya prepare clothes and jewelry.
The next day happened to be Cen Hejue’s day of rest—no lessons to teach. Still, he was accustomed to rising early, and since he had promised to take Qin Fei out of the palace, he made his preparations and waited at the palace gates.
“Master, word has come from the heir. It’s today.” Ah Yan stepped forward from the carriage, reporting: “The heir instructed that the bigger the commotion, the better—it will draw more attention.”
Cen Hejue lifted his lids. “Easy for him to say. How are his preparations?”
Ah Yan recalled Qi Siluo’s reply and carefully relayed it: “The heir said, as long as you carry out matters on your side, he will give his full support.”
“Only…” Ah Yan hesitated, “the Eighth Princess will be there today. Do you truly mean to bring her along?”
Cen Hejue’s tone was indifferent. “Why not?”
Ah Yan ventured, “She is, after all, a young lady. If she were frightened, would that not be improper…”
“You do know how to care for women.” Cen Hejue’s glance was lazy, mocking. “Perhaps I should have you castrated and sent into the palace to keep her company?”
Ah Yan instantly fell silent. “Master, you are always right.”
Cen Hejue was about to speak again when Ah Yan said quickly, “The Princess is here.”
He turned back, and his gaze fell on Qin Fei. Her dark hair was loosely gathered with a golden jade hairpin, half-up and half-down. She wore a pleated skirt of rosy pink patterned with pear blossoms, her slender waist bound with a gauzy sash of moon-white silk. Two golden bells dangled from it, chiming with each step.
The beauty lifted her skirts and ran toward him. When her eyes met his, her smile bloomed—bright brows, radiant charm.
Cen Hejue felt oddly unsettled, as though he were a meaty bone being eyed by a hungry dog.
“Good morning, Perceptor.” Qin Fei rushed up, her gaze sweeping over him, and praised: “You look wonderful today.”
Cen Hejue withdrew his eyes. “Your Highness, get in the carriage.”
“Oh.” Qin Fei wasn’t too disappointed at the lack of compliments. Handsome men were always reserved—she could understand.
Once she was inside, Cen Hejue turned away and muttered under his breath: “Flatterer.”
Qin Fei, meanwhile, was brimming with excitement. At last, she was out to play—and with Cen Hejue, no less, a chance to grow closer. She kept trying to chat along the way, but he barely responded, either reading or sipping tea.
Finally, they arrived. Stepping down from the carriage, Qin Fei beheld a grand, resplendent pavilion: bridges arched, carved beams and painted rafters, palatial towers gleaming like jade. At its peak hung a plaque inscribed in bold red strokes—The Thousand Gold Pavilion.
Just hearing the name, one knew it was a place of wealth.
Qin Fei glanced back at Cen Hejue. “Is this a restaurant? Or a teahouse?”
“Neither.” It was Ah Yan who answered.
“Your Highness, this was once the private residence of a prince from the former dynasty. Later, it came under imperial control. Here, officials and merchants circulate their treasures. If you see something you like, you can bid for it.”
At once, Qin Fei understood.
So—it was an auction.
“Perceptor, why did you think to bring me here?” she asked curiously.
Cen Hejue looked at her. “I don’t know what Your Highness prefers. Rouge, powder, hairpins, jewelry—the palace has plenty. So today I brought you here to choose for yourself.”
Qin Fei couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. Who doesn’t enjoy spending money—especially when it isn’t their own?
“Why would I need such trinkets? You’ll only be wasting your expense,” she teased, covering her mouth with a laugh. But he was already walking ahead. “If we’re late, there’ll be no seats.”
She hurried after him. “You could have said so earlier!”
The Thousand Gold Pavilion lived up to its name. Its exterior was grand, but the interior surpassed it—red pillars carved with dragons, glittering glass, tiered halls upon halls, dazzling beyond measure.
As Qin Fei stepped across the threshold, something pressed lightly on her head. A gauzy veil blurred her vision. She started in surprise.
Cen Hejue withdrew his hand. Ah Yan leaned close to explain: “Your Highness is of noble blood. It would not do for others to see your face. A veiled hat will conceal it somewhat.”
Qin Fei nodded quickly and followed Cen Hejue upstairs. At once, a servant came to greet them, bowing low. “Master, your seat is prepared.”
Qin Fei rolled her eyes. So he *had* lied about there being no seats.
Still, he wasn’t wrong—today’s auction was crowded. The main hall below was packed. The servant led them to a private room, served tea and fruit, then departed.
From the servant’s deference, Qin Fei could tell: the Cen family’s power in the capital was immense. She popped a grape into her mouth. Their room had wide open windows, with two small bells on the table—used to signal bids during the auction.
“Perceptor, have you been here many times?” she asked, a little uneasy at her first auction.
“Not often.” His answer was brief. Perhaps seeing her awkwardness, he added, “Usually I’m busy tutoring you all. I came once before on state business.”
Qin Fei nodded, then asked what truly concerned her: “If I see something I like… do you have a limit?”
He looked puzzled. “Limit?”
She cleared her throat, lowering her voice. “I mean—how much can I spend before you get angry?”
Cen Hejue almost laughed. Then he realized—her past life must not have been wealthy, hence her worry.
“No limit.” He sipped his tea, long fingers idly tracing the rim of the cup, calm and unhurried.
Those two words—*no limit*—were music to Qin Fei’s ears.
“So… I can just buy whatever I want?” she pressed.
He nodded. “I brought you here to make you happy. That’s the point.”
Make her happy? Well, well.
For the first time, Qin Fei truly felt the allure of the domineering-CEO archetype. Who doesn’t love the power of money?
Before the auction even began, she was so excited she drank several cups of tea. Then the drums sounded, and attendants carried out boxes one by one: Ru kiln porcelain, calligraphy, bronze vessels—none of which interested her.
But she learned the rules: no shouting prices, only ringing the bell.
She leaned toward Cen Hejue. “One ring—how much does it add?”
“Ten thousand taels,” he replied coolly.
She sucked in a breath. Each ring was worth hundreds of thousands! Were all these people so rich?
Soon, five attendants carried out a massive bow—pure gold, inlaid with a dozen fist-sized rubies and emeralds. Ostentatious, gaudy, utterly impractical.
Ah Yan scoffed inwardly. Who in their right mind would buy such a thing?
Then—*ding!*
Qin Fei’s eyes were sparkling stars.
Ah Yan froze. Someone really had bid.
And his master looked utterly unsurprised.
Only two or three others competed with Qin Fei, following her bell closely.
Ah Yan began to doubt his own taste.
She rang ten times. Only one rival remained. Her confidence wavered—nearly ten thousand taels already. She glanced at Cen Hejue.
He said calmly, “If you stop now, you’ll hand it over to them?” His words gave her courage.
Finally, after three more rounds, Qin Fei triumphed—winning the golden bow.
Cen Hejue rose. Qin Fei instantly clutched his sleeve. “Um… I didn’t bring any money.”