Wei Xichen recalled that year at fifteen, when he carried Jiang Yinyue, who had taken a tumble, across the winding white marble bridge in the Imperial Garden. On one side of the bridge, clear streams wound around, with schools of colorful koi swimming, while the other side was a canopy of verdant leaves holding dewdrops like jade plates.
The summer was vibrant, and the girl’s laughter added the perfect flourish.
It was an ordinary morning. He set aside his duties to accompany the girl, who had entered the palace early, on a stroll. But even in the stunning Imperial Garden, one could grow tired of the sights after a while.
As the Heir Apparent, he lived in seclusion, and most of the strange tales and anecdotes from the streets came from Jiang Yinyue. In his eyes, everything paled except for the girl on his back.
“Crown Prince Brother, let’s go over to the semi-corridor. There’s a marriage lock tied to one of the lattice windows there.”
“Oh?” His eyes sparkled with amusement as he carried the girl toward the semi-corridor connected to the bridge, searching bit by bit until he found the copper lock hanging on the lattice window.
He had no idea who had placed it there.
With so many concubines in the rear palace, countless palace maids and guards—perhaps it was a token of marriage affinity sought for the next life by a pair of lovers who could not be together.
Just as the girl began speculating, a shrill rooster voice cried out, “His Majesty arrives!” shattering the garden’s tranquility.
He saw his Father Emperor wave his hand curtly with a cold face, dismissing the attendants.
“This son pays respects to Father Emperor.”
Jiang Yinyue hurriedly slid down from his back and nimbly stepped forward to curtsy before the imperial presence. “This subject greets Your Majesty.”
“Flirting so early in the morning—what indecency! The Heir Apparent must act like one. As for you, young lady…” Your Majesty trailed off, too lazy to even glance at Jiang Yinyue. He turned away with hands clasped behind his back. “Xichen, come with Us.”
Imperial will could not be defied. He touched the girl’s aggrieved cheek in silent comfort, then followed after the Emperor, leaving her standing there alone.
On the Emperor’s bright yellow dragon robe, the embroidered golden dragon raised its whiskers, much like the Emperor’s own bristling beard.
“Does that girl have leg problems that require Our son to carry her personally? So delicate and spoiled, utterly undisciplined.”
He pinched his brow and explained for Jiang Yinyue. “Yinyue only acts like this in front of this son.”
“That makes it even more unacceptable! Remember, as a ruler, you must never let emotions sway you.”
He took his father’s words to heart and put them into practice—except for this one, which he let go in one ear and out the other. Yet later, he followed it most resolutely.
Wei Xichen snapped back to the present and strode forward, following behind the young couple. He watched them buy all sorts of snacks along the way.
Wei Qin remained stern and unsmiling in public and private alike, yet he indulged Jiang Yinyue in everything, following silently and protecting her in ways as gentle as moistening things silently.
Wei Xichen felt an indescribable taste in his heart. He disliked Wei Qin, and he disliked the tender affection between them.
“Transport Judge Wei, please hold.”
As Wei Xichen revealed himself, the Eastern Palace’s hidden guards in the crowd withdrew on their own, vanishing into concealment.
Wei Qin turned back, showing no surprise. Instead, Jiang Yinyue, who was picking out a puppy, grew coldly distant. Thinking of Mr. Gong made her anger flare uncontrollably.
“Why is he here?”
That tone was no different from encountering someone she utterly loathed. Every word reached Wei Xichen’s ears clearly.
The mild-tempered man’s face remained affable, but his hand hidden in his wide sleeve tightened slightly.
He approached Wei Qin without glancing at the woman beside him.
Their equally tall statures stood out in the crowd—one in plain clothes, cold and unmoved by favor or disgrace; the other in fine brocade, elegant and betraying no emotion.
They locked eyes, as if exchanging secrets.
“Regarding the investigation of the Salt Transport Office accounts, this prince wishes to hear Transport Judge Wei’s plans.”
At that moment, Wei Qin confirmed his suspicions: the Crown Prince was the one secretly investigating the matter in the court.
One operated in the open, the other in the shadows—one made a target, the other fishing with a long line.
Wei Qin replied calmly, “This subject knows no secrets and will speak freely.”
Jiang Yinyue followed the two men unwillingly, not eavesdropping on their discussion. She had originally meant to pick a puppy, but now she had lost all interest. Passing a small tavern that had patrons earlier, she saw the owner wiping the tables and called out to the two men, pointing inside.
Moments later, the owner brought a jar of yellow wine and three plates of the standard small dishes.
Unaware of the trio’s identities, the enthusiastic owner even gifted them a plate of pickled sour ginger.
“This is pickled by my wife. Please try the taste.”
Wei Xichen smiled faintly in thanks. In this ordinary street of mortal bustle, the prince who stood above the clouds shed his untouchable aura, becoming amiable, polite, refined, and elegant. It drew extra glances from the burly tavern owner, who accidentally spilled a few drops while pouring.
Looking again at the man in plain clothes sitting across from him, the owner clutched his forehead. He had never seen such a handsome visage.
Pan An and Song Yu were probably like this.
And he saw two at once.
The owner chuckled and went about his business.
The cramped tavern fell unusually quiet. None of the three started the conversation. Finally, Wei Xichen took the initiative to inquire about the details and progress of Wei Qin’s investigation.
Without avoiding Jiang Yinyue.
Wei Qin answered every question, neither humble nor arrogant.
Gradually, Jiang Yinyue grew lost in the clouds, losing any desire to probe further. She picked up her chopsticks to taste some spicy stir-fried clams and coughed lightly, covering her mouth from the spice.
Immediately, two cups of clear water appeared before her.
Wei Qin was accustomed to looking after her; Wei Xichen acted on subconscious habit.
Realizing his action was improper, the young Heir Apparent paused briefly and withdrew the porcelain cup.
As the spicy wine slid down his throat, he tasted something off.
Jiang Yinyue sipped the water Wei Qin offered, easing the burn a little. She did not touch the clams or the equally fiery lotus root slices again.
After picking dozens of fried peanuts, she reached for a slice of pickled sour ginger to cut the greasiness. But the Wei Xichen who had been discussing salt affairs a moment ago reminded her, “You can’t eat ginger.”
It would trigger her allergy.
Hearing this, Wei Qin looked at Jiang Yinyue, clearly unaware. Ginger shreds or bits were common in home cooking, and his wife had never objected.
After a brief moment of surprise, Jiang Yinyue popped the ginger slice into her mouth.
Her childhood allergy had improved greatly after years of treatment from renowned physicians her father had invited. She simply made a habit of avoiding it and never mentioned such a trivial matter to anyone.
Over time, she treated fresh ginger the same as garlic or scallions—as mere seasonings.
Wei Xichen, never one to make a fool of himself, merely tugged at his lips without embarrassment. A man who had weathered great storms would not be fazed by this. He downed a bowl of wine alone and continued discussing with Wei Qin.
Satisfied with food and water, Jiang Yinyue stepped out and sat alone on the stone steps in front of the tavern, keeping company with the foxtail grass in the corner. She could not help thinking of the hunting hound Qi Bao in the Eastern Palace.
She and Wei Xichen had found and adopted it by chance. At first, it was only the size of a palm, abandoned on the street by who-knows-who—even sparrows could peck and bully it.
Fourteen years had passed in the blink of an eye. Qi Bao was still kept in the Eastern Palace, and she had not seen it in three years.
There was no medicine for regret. Having made peace with herself, Jiang Yinyue no longer dwelled on why she had not simply taken Qi Bao back to Jiang Mansion back then. She simply missed that old companion who loved circling around her.
How long could a dog’s life be? She knew full well in her heart, yet she still wanted to see that little fellow again—the one that had nearly died in her arms on the night they met but survived through sheer will.
No matter how old Qi Bao grew, in her eyes, it was always little dog treasure.
When footsteps sounded behind her, Jiang Yinyue did not turn at once. She knew the unhurried pace was not Wei Qin’s. Out of respect for sovereign and subject, Wei Xichen ought to exit the tavern first.
Wei Qin would follow.
When her peripheral vision caught a figure in cloud-patterned white brocade, she twisted her head back, waiting for Wei Qin to approach.
The two men emerged from the tavern and stood facing each other in the alley, exchanging a few words that seemed trivial but hid deeper meanings.
Before parting, Wei Xichen looked toward Jiang Yinyue, still seated on the steps. “When you return to the capital, see Qi Bao one more time. There won’t be many chances left.”
It had been a full three years since she entered the palace to see Qi Bao. Whenever it threw tantrums with him, it was mostly because it could not see Jiang Yinyue.
The words sounded ordinary, yet carried sorrow. The aged hound’s days were numbered; it had waited for her all along, even escaping the Eastern Palace several times to roam the vast palace grounds, thinking it could find her that way.
Jiang Yinyue made no reply as Wei Qin naturally pulled her to her feet.
She took his arm, tilting her head with a bland expression—a clear gesture of seeing off a guest.
If not for consideration of Wei Qin’s status as a subject, she would have left ahead long ago.
With Mr. Gong’s matter and their past grievances, she truly wanted no further entanglement with this man. As long as things looked fine on the surface, that was enough.
Her father was right: when marriage failed, benefits remained. With only interests binding them, there was no need for heartfelt ties. Avoiding each other was best.
Wei Xichen was no fool. He shook his head, turned, and strode away, waving his wide sleeve in farewell. His elegant figure melted into the night.
Vanishing with him were layers of shadows weaving through the darkness.
The wind carried the fragrance of blooming crabapples, mingling with the scent of yellow wine to weave Yangzhou’s intoxicating night allure.
Jiang Yinyue lay on Wei Qin’s back, swinging her little legs, chatting idly here and there—never once mentioning Wei Xichen.
When she tired of talking and the road stretched on, she leaned against the back of his neck and fell fast asleep.
The two jars of yellow wine and bags of snacks somehow ended up dangling from Wei Qin’s fingers.
The night deepened. From the long street a few alleys away came faint, melodious singing, but no more of Mr. Gong’s silver tongue.
Wei Qin adjusted the woman who was slipping down and continued into the brightly lit long street. Outside a teahouse, he spotted a somewhat dejected young woman.
Cui Shihan turned her head, raising a brow. Lacking her usual playfulness and carefree air, she slumped her shoulders as she brushed past them.
She galloped away on horseback.
But Jiang Yinyue slept soundly and knew nothing of it.
Wei Qin carried on with Jiang Yinyue on his back, without looking back.
Wei Xichen returned to the post station and saw Yan Zhuyu, who had been waiting some time. He smiled and asked, “Why come at this hour?”
He sat by the window, closing his eyes to ease the yellow wine’s aftereffects. The alcohol flushed his handsome features with a soft, gentle glow, making him seem even warmer.
Yan Zhuyu was adept at reading moods. She had long ordered the guards to prepare sobering soup. Now, she kept Fu Zhongcai outside the door and personally carried the bowl, scooping a spoonful, blowing it cool for a moment, and offering it to Wei Xichen’s lips.
“Your Highness, be careful—it’s hot.”
The warm soup carried the aroma of medicinal herbs, blending with the fragrance from her fingertips into a rich, alluring scent.
But Wei Xichen gently pushed it away with a faint smile. “No need.”
His nose still seemed to hold the faint, warm scent from Jiang Yinyue’s body.
Yan Zhuyu set down the bowl, her eyes rippling with spring waters.
Beneath her splendid thin spring dress was skin fresh from a bath. She softly probed if she might stay the night.
They had separate quarters; otherwise, it would look bad on her face, lest her family suspect she had fallen from favor with the Crown Prince.
Wei Xichen remained amiable and temperate, but some matters allowed no discussion.
Watching the woman leave disappointed, he felt no guilt in his eyes. Some relationships should remain clear in the mind.
What he could give her was wealth and glory—and what she sought was precisely that.