Jiangning was not far from Yangzhou, and the two groups chose the same mountain path, temporarily traveling together.
The crown prince’s procession moved forward in grand array, while Jiang Yinyue sat in her own carriage, repeatedly reminding Wei Qin to drive slowly.
“Once we reach the next relay station, we’ll pass them right by.”
Towering peaks were wreathed in crimson clouds, with rain and snow swirling in the mist, whipping up irritation.
An elderly official wrung out his half-damp cotton robe and couldn’t help complaining, “We haven’t had decent weather the whole way—now cold, now hot, with rain one moment and frost and snow the next. My rheumatism is acting up.”
The general in the same carriage laughed. “Bear with it a bit longer, sir. Once we crest the slope ahead, we’ll hit the official road, and we can pick up speed.”
“In this weather of mingled rain and snow, frostbite is easiest. Even a Sweat-Blooded Steed can navigate the mountain paths, but ordinary horses have a tough time.” The old official pointed toward the rear, his meaning clear.
The general got it, shrugged, lifted the curtain to look at the rearmost pair of man and woman, intending to tease for some amusement. But like the others who wanted to poke fun, he noticed the young couple sitting side by side, unhurried and steady.
Under the same circumstances, some were trapped in pouring frustration and vexation, while others kept clear minds and composure.
Jiang Yinyue sat cross-legged on the carriage
veranda, her hood covering her face, revealing only a pair of clear black-and-white almond eyes.
Bored, she raised her palm to shield against the sky. Rain and snow fell on the back of her hand, cold wind blew across her palm; she smiled lazily and flipped her hand over.
“Look, I get wind when I want wind, rain when I want rain.”
The Deputy Guard Commander, who guarded the entire procession, rode past on horseback and arrived before the man who truly got wind when he wanted it and rain when he wanted it. He asked, “Does Your Highness wish to stop and rest?”
Wei Xichen’s clear, resonant voice came from the carriage. “Another ten li, then.”
Following the relay workers’ advice, this area was prone to landslides, not suitable for stopping.
The dim yellow sky strained the eyes. Wei Xichen set down his book, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and casually asked, “Have they kept up?”
The Deputy Guard Commander paused, then heard a cough from the old eunuch in the carriage. Realizing belatedly, he couldn’t help laughing. “They’re right there, and they’ve even got the energy to call for wind and rain.”
It was rare to find someone full of scholarly ink who also had a dash of wit. Wei Qin, the erudite scholar, and Jiang Yinyue, the quirky sprite, made an unusual pair. The old eunuch Fu Zhongcai pursed his lips in a smile and unintentionally met the crown prince’s intriguing gaze.
Fu Zhongcai pressed his lips together and lowered his head to rub the silver-bone charcoal in the copper basin.
Amid the crackling of sparks, Wei Xichen suddenly recalled, years ago, the scene of thirteen-year-old Jiang Yinyue running out of the mansion in a sudden downpour just to give him an umbrella.
“Crown Prince Brother, don’t get caught in the rain on your way back to the palace.”
But her makeup and hair were already soaked.
As he took the umbrella, the girl’s lashes curved in delight, as if he had accepted her feelings.
That oiled paper umbrella still sat on the shelf in the Eastern Palace study to this day.
Clouds and mist gathered at the horizon, in his heart. When they parted, the past became fleeting shadows.
The rain and snow suddenly cleared, the wind scattered the haze. Some people sat outside their carriages, airing out their damp brocade robes.
Jiang Yinyue spread her cloak on the carriage roof, then sat back beside Wei Qin. By chance, she spotted some mountain folk training a horse in the snow off to the side ahead.
The horse had mottled fur, its front hooves bound, hopping comically and drawing everyone’s eyes.
Jiang Yinyue joked, “Look at it. Untie it, and it might bolt straight to Yangzhou in one leap.”
Inside the Purple Sandalwood Carriage ahead, the maid Han Yan looked at the horse being whipped by the mountain folk and frowned. “How cruel.”
Yan Zhuyu heard her maid’s words from beyond the curtain. Her beautiful eyes turned to the man in the carriage who was seriously reading his book. “Your Highness, shall we buy that horse?”
Wei Xichen straightened up and lifted the curtain to look at the amusing horse. He explained gently, “Scenes like this are common on the grasslands—usually stubborn breeds with wild tempers. Some even bully novices with poor riding skills.”
“It was this concubine’s misunderstanding.”
Mentioning riding skills, Yan Zhuyu had practiced bitterly for months before leaving the palace, afraid of losing face during the southern tour if she wasn’t proficient. The journey was long and unpredictable; they might have to abandon the carriages for horses at any time.
Better to prepare in advance.
Seeing her eagerness, Wei Xichen smiled faintly. “Tired of the carriage?”
“With Your Highness, this concubine never finds it dull.”
“Go try it.”
It was time for a rest anyway. Wei Xichen ordered the procession to halt and sent someone to the mountain folk with silver taels to exchange for the horse.
Yan Zhuyu came from a humble background with shallow roots. In three years at the Eastern Palace, she had no standout achievements and struggled to win over the others. Most of those on this southern tour came from the Chamberlain’s Office and the Eastern Palace. Letting her show off her horsemanship before them would help establish her authority.
There were plenty of refined ladies skilled in music, chess, calligraphy, and painting. Standing out with riding skills wasn’t a bad way to impress.
The mountain folk gaped in surprise, bit hard into the silver ingot, said nothing, handed over the horse, and bolted, afraid the buyer would change his mind.
Wei Qin had no choice but to stop the carriage. He and Jiang Yinyue quietly watched the scene ahead.
An experienced guard swiftly cut the hemp ropes binding the horse’s hooves with a knife, fetched the bit, girth, saddle, and other gear, installing them one by one. Inevitably, he tussled openly and covertly with the horse.
Faced with strangers, the horse grew even more restless.
Taming a horse required skill and presence. Yan Zhuyu seized the chance, stepped into the stirrup, and mounted lightly and nimbly. She gripped the reins tight, gradually applying pressure. Beads of sweat formed on her forehead.
But the horse was far wilder than she imagined. It leaped several feet, bucked its hindquarters fiercely, and bucked wildly, venting all the fury the guards had suppressed onto Yan Zhuyu.
Her two maids’ hearts leaped to their throats. The rest, with the crown prince watching, chose to cheer her on, following with their eyes and whispering among themselves.
Jiang Yinyue nudged Wei Qin with her elbow. “Can she tame that horse?”
“No idea.”
Jiang Yinyue chuckled. Wei Qin was the least interested in spectating; he couldn’t even be bothered to placate her.
Wei Xichen stood on the carriage veranda, one hand behind his back, rubbing his Jade Thumb Ring. Just as he concluded Yan Zhuyu couldn’t tame the stubborn beast and prepared to stop her, the horse’s ears flattened back, and it grew frenzied.
Everyone hurriedly dodged.
Yan Zhuyu paled. “Ah!”
The horse accelerated into a mad gallop, kicking out as it ran, unwittingly charging toward the rearmost carriage amid rearing whinnies.
Jiang Yinyue’s dark eyes reflected the blue sky, white clouds, and a tall horse with mottled fur.
In the nick of time, Wei Qin shielded her as they leaped from the carriage.
A flash of jade green shot forward rapidly, yanking hard on the reins and being dragged several steps by the horse.
“Your Highness, careful!”
The crowd panicked and rushed up.
Wei Xichen tensed his arm, grabbed the horse’s mane along with the reins, and vaulted onto its back with sheer arm strength. “Grab onto Us!”
The composure lost, Yan Zhuyu clutched tightly at Wei Xichen’s jade belt, eyes squeezed shut against the chaos.
Gradually, the jolting eased, finally settling into stability.
The horse stopped struggling, snorted, and under Wei Xichen’s expert control, trotted around the procession—no longer wild or fierce.
Yan Zhuyu breathed a sigh of relief, resting her forehead against the man’s back. “Thank goodness Your Highness was here. This concubine made Your Highness lose face.”
“Nothing to lose face over. Practice makes perfect; you just need more seasoning.”
When Wei Qin helped Jiang Yinyue up, she noticed obvious bloodstains on the back of his left hand. She immediately pulled up his sleeve to check. Several faint scratches marred his unusually fair skin.
Even though Wei Qin had protected her well and she was unhurt, Jiang Yinyue still fumed.
Wei Qin was injured saving her; indirectly, she had suffered undeserved calamity again because of Wei Xichen and Yan Zhuyu.
Anger surged to her head; she ignored her father’s repeated warnings.
Her fierce glare carried accusation, like a shrew from the opera.
But Wei Xichen asked Yan Zhuyu behind him if she wanted another try.
Yan Zhuyu looked surprised. Did he mean get right back on where she fell?
Jiang Yinyue let out an almost imperceptible scoff, which happened to reach their ears.
Unwilling to lose face, Yan Zhuyu, after Wei Xichen dismounted, began a second attempt. With experience from the first and his demonstration, she gritted her teeth and battled the Scruffy Horse again, which bullied the weak.
Wei Xichen walked up to Jiang Yinyue, not sparing Wei Qin a glance, his eyes on her. “Any scrapes?”
“Thanks to Your Highness.”
“Fu Zhongcai, fetch the medicine.”
“No need. We have Golden Sore Medicine.”
Wei Xichen insisted on sending someone for it and pressed it into Jiang Yinyue’s hand. “All that resentment has turned to fire.”
That tone carried a trace of indulgence hard to pin down—perhaps even he hadn’t noticed.
The indulgence once carved into his bones for her.
Before the crowd, no matter how angry Jiang Yinyue was, she couldn’t vent freely. She pulled up Wei Qin’s sleeve and carefully wiped every scratch, applying the ointment in circles.
The virtuous wife, doting on her husband.
Wei Qin didn’t stop her. His peripheral vision stayed on the still-frenzied horse.
A long, drawn-out whistle followed. The horse, which Yan Zhuyu couldn’t tame despite her all, suddenly quieted.
Shock rippled through the crowd.
Even the crown prince cast an astonished look.
Jiang Yinyue turned in surprise, wondering why Wei Qin, who never fought for attention or stole the show, had broken character…
After the shock, Wei Xichen smiled faintly. “Advisor Wei has impressive skills.”
“Your Highness flatters me.”
Wei Qin nodded, took Jiang Yinyue’s wrist, and walked away.
Wei Xichen watched their figures recede, nearly forgetting Yan Zhuyu on the horse. Moments later, he went to the horse’s side and personally helped her down.
Far from the procession, at a rocky outcrop at the mountain base, Jiang Yinyue held the Golden Sore Medicine and gestured for Wei Qin to remove his upper garment.
Wei Qin sat on the other side, his mind not on the trivial injury. He stared at the distant jade figure, his double-folded eyelids sharpening into a fierce arc.
“I’m fine.”
“Whether you’re fine needs checking.”
Sensing his distraction, Jiang Yinyue pondered.
Back during the marriage discussions, idle gossip had rattled her. In a fit of spite, she agreed without properly looking at her groom. Later, living under the same roof, she occasionally observed him closely and found his quirks.
First, even in biting cold, he wore thin clothes; outsiders might think the Jiang Mansion mistreated its live-in son-in-law.
Second, he hated heat and contact; even a handshake from a social climber required meticulous wiping.
“Wei Qin, do you not want me touching you either?”
At her words, Wei Qin turned back, slowly lowering his thick black lashes. He parted his collar, exposing some scratches, and tilted toward Jiang Yinyue.
She laughed in anger and set the Golden Sore Medicine on the rock. “Do it yourself.”
No need to force reluctance.
Even during wedding preparations, her mother and father had argued, worried Wei Qin only agreed to the marriage for the Jiang family’s power.
She hadn’t cared. Did Bangyan Wei fancy her character? She was willful, spoiled, notorious, rejected by the imperial family—would a clear-eyed man or someone with a sound mind like her?
They were bound by mutual benefit, tacitly understood.
“Rest assured, I don’t cling. Someday, if you find someone you like, just ask me for a divorce.”
Leaving those self-proclaimed carefree words, Jiang Yinyue suddenly tugged at the wooden plaque on Wei Qin’s waist—a trinket she had carved idly on the road.
Wei Qin abruptly gripped the plaque and stared silently at her.
Outmatched in strength, Jiang Yinyue turned and walked away, leaving Wei Qin alone.
Only after she was far off did Wei Qin unclench his fist and murmur hoarsely, “I like.”
Jiang Yinyue returned to the carriage, feeling no bitterness. Since being used by the crown prince as a stepping stone, she had learned— no more sorrowing over fickle hearts.
Suddenly, the cotton curtain stirred. Wei Qin entered the carriage and fixed his gaze on her. “Help me apply the medicine.”
Jiang Yinyue froze, then crossed her arms and tilted her chin. “Just a scrape. No big deal.”
In the next instant, her soft hand was caught by the man.
“Help me.”
Jiang Yinyue jolted. “Did you hit your head?”
Was that push-pull from before? She didn’t peg Wei Qin as that type.
Wei Qin took out the ointment, put it in her hand, then turned and pulled down his garment, revealing scratches on his back.
A lean, sculpted back, contours half-exposed.
An old whip scar flickered faintly, far more shocking than the scratches.
Jiang Yinyue dabbed on a glob of ointment, smeared it perfunctorily, half-angry, half-amused.
A young general trudging through the snow outside, bored, couldn’t resist teasing. “A mere scrape worth all that? No wonder they say civil officials are frail.”
Another general rubbed his chin meaningfully. “The man who tamed that stubborn horse with just a whistle would be frail? This Compiler Wei has hidden depths.”
Wei Xichen sat in the purple sandalwood carriage without setting off right away. He called Fu Zhongcai over. “Go inquire about Wei Qin’s background.”
The Ministry of Personnel kept detailed records of every official’s origins and career history. The meticulous Fu Zhongcai had already looked into it.
Wei Qin’s ancestral home was Jinyang. His birth father had been the owner of a horse ranch, and his birth mother had passed away early. When Wei Qin was eight years old, his father, burdened by massive debts, had hanged himself. The son repaid the father’s debts. Wei Qin scraped together money from all directions to settle them, left Jinyang, wandered to various places, and was adopted as a foster son by a poor couple’s second branch in Yangzhou.
“No wonder.”
No wonder he could tame a horse with just a whistle.
Wei Xichen leaned sideways against the armrest, stroking the jade thumb ring on his finger one stroke at a time. “Where’s the golden sore medicine?”
Fu Zhongcai hesitated. “Ah…?”
Jiang Yinyue had never thought the crown prince was petty. When Fu Zhongcai sent someone to retrieve the golden sore medicine, she wondered for a moment if he was joking.
She tossed over two bottles, principal and interest, feeling utterly baffled.
She remembered that as a child, when mosquitoes in the Imperial Garden bit her and left her skin red and swollen, the crown prince had sent over court-supplied ointments for several days straight, and he had never asked for any favors in return afterward.
It must have been related to her deserting him in the heat of battle.
In that assassination attempt with a clear target, when the crown prince broke out with her and took an arrow from the assassin for her, falling into a coma, she should have returned the favor. But she had fled.
Jiang Yinyue leaned against the carriage wall and laughed with a shrug. She didn’t hold back even when Wei Qin looked over.
The world said she was ungrateful and cowardly, and few believed that she had drawn the assassins away for the crown prince. A tidal wave of doubts had surged in, drowning the truth, leaving her unable to argue no matter how much she protested.
She had tearfully explained that midway through, the assassins had seen through her, only for the crowd to question why they had spared her life.
Though the crown prince never voiced any doubts, he had retaliated against her with his actions.
When the attendants presented the two bottles of golden sore medicine to Wei Xichen, he spread his palm and gazed listlessly at the small porcelain bottle that had been proactively returned. Then he looked at the other one and curled his fingers, pressing his fist against his left chest.
Yan Zhuyu happened to climb into the carriage just then. Seeing this, she hurried forward. “Is Your Highness unwell?”
She carefully reached out, wanting to gently stroke the man’s chest for him, but her wrist was gripped.
Wei Xichen said warmly, “It’s nothing.”
Yan Zhuyu often felt a sense of loss from being so close yet unable to touch the moon—the crown prince was clearly gentle and approachable, yet he maintained a layer of distance.
A wife and a concubine were ultimately different, after all. She didn’t dare to directly ask about the source of that distance. She straightened her clothes and sat properly, no longer overstepping bounds in the chaos of concern. “This concubine made a fool of herself today. I will definitely practice diligently from now on.”
“Riding skill depends on talent. No need to feel burdened.” Wei Xichen set down one bottle of golden sore medicine and tucked the other unopened one into his sleeve. He leaned back against the armrest and casually lifted the corner of his lips. “Yinyue has good talent.”
And then he fell silent.
Yan Zhuyu lifted the copper cloisonne enamel teapot from the low table and poured tea for him. Wisps of steam drifted ethereally between them.
Three years of silence had formed a dam in his heart, blocking off all the past events. Their childhood friendship had ended on bad terms, but now, in this chance encounter, Jiang Yinyue’s name had naturally slipped from his lips. Did that mean the dam in his heart had always left a crack, and after long suppression, he couldn’t help but miss the old days?
Yan Zhuyu poured herself a cup of tea. The sound of water gurgled.
“Does Your Highness know Lady Jiang well?”
Wei Xichen took a shallow sip of the tea soup without answering.
The tea surface reflected the man’s lowered brows and eyes.