Zong Zhengheng followed behind Qiao Shuyi, his steps unhurried, his expression gentle and obedient.
Yet his lowered eyes never ceased their observation.
Only after leaving Jinglan Garden did he realize just how magnificent the Prince of Jin’an’s estate truly was.
Along the way, carved beams and painted rafters, soaring eaves and interlocking brackets—everywhere exuded the imposing grandeur befitting a noble prince’s mansion.
The bluestone slabs were laid perfectly straight, their seams filled with white jade paste.
Every ten paces stood a stone-carved palace lantern.
Turning past a festooned gate,
a winding nine-curved corridor spanned across emerald waves.
Beneath the corridor lay a spring-fed pond, teeming with koi. Passing through the corridor, they entered a garden.
At the center of the garden stood a three-story pavilion, inscribed with the three large characters “Lan Yue Lou” (Moon-Embracing Tower), crafted entirely of pure gold, glittering brilliantly under the sunlight.
Before the pavilion stood two rows of maids and servants.
Qiao Shuyi did not pause her steps, heading toward the main hall.
Zong Zhengheng followed behind, his expression unchanged, yet his mind had already turned over countless thoughts.
Such extravagance, such splendor—how could this befit a prince of a different surname?
Even the deeply rooted, old-line nobles in the capital would not dare to be so ostentatious.
Qiao Nanyu truly knew no bounds.
As he pondered, a burst of laughter and chatter suddenly drifted from ahead.
Raising his gaze, he saw the square before the main hall already filled with carriages and horses, bustling with figures.
Noble youths from various provinces gathered in small groups, dressed in fine silks and adorned with jewels, creating a lively scene.
Qiao Shuyi paused slightly, glancing back at him with a radiant smile:
“Zhi Gui, stay close to me.”
Zong Zhengheng lowered his eyes and replied:
“Yes.”
Beneath the mask, his gaze was inscrutable.
The moment Qiao Shuyi appeared, all eyes converged upon her.
The customs of Great Zhang were open, reminiscent of the prosperous Tang Dynasty.
At the Spring Banquet, it was not uncommon for men and women to share seats, drinking and chatting merrily together.
As long as they were not alone in a room, no idle gossip would spread.
Qiao Shuyi wore that Ancient Pattern Double Butterfly Cloud-Shaped Thousand Waters Skirt, its layers of skirt billowing like mist, rippling like water as she moved, making her appear ethereal and graceful.
Zong Zhengheng stood half a step behind her, clad in a snow-white robe, his face concealed by a mask, revealing only a pair of calm eyes.
Yet his dignified bearing, straight posture, and composed gait were clearly not those of an ordinary male companion.
Several curious glances had already fallen upon him, accompanied by faint whispers.
Qiao Shuyi seemed oblivious, leading him into the crowd.
From time to time, people approached to exchange pleasantries, and Qiao Shuyi would respond with a few smiling words, displaying the poised demeanor of a noble lady from an esteemed family.
When those people curiously observed Zong Zhengheng, she would openly introduce him as “someone from my courtyard,” and say no more.
Since he was “someone from her courtyard,” that meant he was Qiao Erxiaojie’s private possession—who would dare to inquire further?
As they walked, a sweet, lively voice called from the side:
“Shushu!”
Qiao Shuyi turned toward the sound.
A young girl in a goose-yellow ruqun was waving at her.
The girl appeared to be fourteen or fifteen, with a round face and a charmingly cheerful smile.
Beside her stood several other girls of similar age, likely young ladies from neighboring provinces.
Qiao Shuyi recognized her as the legitimate daughter of the Prefect of Qingzhou, surnamed Zhou, with the given name Wan Niang, whom she had met a few times before.
She turned to Zong Zhengheng and said:
“Go and wander on your own for now, but don’t go too far.”
Zong Zhengheng lowered his eyes and replied, “Yes.”
Qiao Shuyi walked toward the group of young ladies and was soon surrounded by their lively chatter, their laughter gradually fading into the distance.
Zong Zhengheng remained standing where he was, his gaze sweeping indifferently across the surroundings.
This was the Spring Banquet.
The garden was filled with the fragrance of fine garments and the shimmer of elaborate hairstyles, cups clinking and wine flowing, yet beneath the surface, undercurrents swirled.
Qiao Shuyi was laughing and chatting with the young ladies from noble families, her eyes curved into crescents, presenting an image of innocent delight.
Zhou Wannian chattered away about the sights and sounds of Qingzhou.
How the newly arrived opera troupe sang exceptionally well, which rouge shop had the most authentic lipstick shades, and how her mother had recently made her several sets of spring outfits that she would bring over for her to see another day.
Qiao Shuyi smiled and nodded, about to respond—
Fuzhi suddenly leaned in close.
She pressed to her side, her voice dropping to an extremely low whisper.
The smile on Qiao Shuyi’s face faltered slightly.
Then, she turned to Zhou Wannian with a smile:
“You all go ahead and enjoy yourselves. I have some matters to attend to and will be back shortly.”
With that, she turned and left with Fuzhi.
The two of them circled behind the rockery, where no one was around.
Qiao Shuyi asked calmly:
“Well?”
Fuzhi lowered her head, her voice dropping even further:
“Miss, Concubine Song’s side… has already obtained the letter you wrote to Lord Zhou, imitating Madam’s handwriting.”
Lord Zhou was the father of Zhou Wannian, who had just been speaking, and also her mother’s childhood friend.
Because of this connection, she and Zhou Wannian had grown up playing together and were very close.
Fuzhi glanced up quickly at Qiao Shuyi before lowering her head again.
She truly did not understand.
Why did the young lady write that letter?
If that letter fell into Concubine Song’s hands, it would be irrefutable evidence of Madam’s illicit correspondence.
At best, it would ruin her reputation; at worst… she might not even be able to keep her life.
What was the young lady doing?
But she dared not ask.
Qiao Shuyi’s expression remained unchanged.
Song Chengyin.
The birth mother of Qiao Shuqin.
Years ago, she had been stripped of her position as the legitimate wife by Liu Jinyu. All these years, she had lain low in the manor, appearing obedient on the surface, but her heart must have long been seething with hatred.
Given even the slightest opportunity, she would surely ensure Liu Jinyu never rose again.
See, with just a gentle hook, she had already taken the bait.
“And then?”
Fuzhi bit her lip and continued her report:
“Lord Zhou has also brought his family today. He is currently in the front hall feasting with the Prince and the other distinguished guests. Concubine Song’s side… has already prepared the drug.”
Her voice grew softer and softer, almost inaudible:
“She plans to drug Madam and then have Madam and Lord Zhou… discovered by the Prince in full view of everyone.”
She paused, unable to resist adding one more sentence:
“Miss, if Concubine Song succeeds, Madam might…”
Qiao Shuyi’s face showed not a ripple of emotion.
“Mm, I know. You may go.”
Fuzhi was stunned.
“Miss, you… aren’t planning to save Madam?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt a cool gaze settle upon her.
“You speak out of turn. Do you think I don’t know what to do?”
Fuzhi dropped to her knees with a thud, her forehead touching the ground:
“Forgive me, Miss. This servant spoke too much.”
Qiao Shuyi said nothing more, simply stepping out from behind the rockery.