A whimpering sound came from the corner of the wall. Wei Xichen walked over to Qi Bao, which was sprawled in its nest snoring away. He didn’t know what the little one had dreamed of, but it kept humming pitifully.
Just like with Jiang Yinyue, no matter Qi Bao’s age, it was always that palm-sized little puppy in his eyes—unchanging.
Leaning against Qi Bao was a somewhat worn cloth doll, patched up many times and barely holding its original shape. Jiang Yinyue had made it herself. Over those years, she had given Qi Bao all sorts of little toys every few days, and this straw cloth doll was the last one.
When the Eastern Palace attendants handed Qi Bao over to the messenger, they had the messenger bring along the doll it depended on the most.
Wei Xichen gently stroked the sleeping Qi Bao, soothing its emotions.
Qi Bao, which knew nothing of parting ways, would always trot up to him with the doll in its mouth during those three years, its round eyes full of expectation.
He knew it missed her, but in the end, he never swallowed his pride to take it to see her.
Pride shouldn’t exist between two childhood sweethearts. Late at night, he would wonder when that pride had crept in between them.
The hand stroking Qi Bao’s head slowly clenched into a fist. What explanation could he give today for bringing it to see her?
Perhaps this young Heir Apparent hadn’t yet realized that he had begun to waver in his original judgment—he was just deceiving himself, unwilling to face the truth: his little childhood sweetheart hadn’t abandoned him to flee for her life on her own. Or perhaps he clung to that original judgment, yet in the endless cycle of letting go and holding grudges, he wanted to grasp onto something.
A fragrant breeze blew, the curtains swayed, and Wei Ying, suddenly awake and sleepless, sprawled alone by the second-floor window of the Rear Veranda Room, lost in random thoughts.
She had been frail and sickly since birth, always dragging down those around her. She didn’t want to, but there was nothing she could do about it.
A burst of hoofbeats pulled her thoughts back.
Lightning Chaser in the stables immediately let out a neigh.
The Rear Veranda Room was closest to the back alley, and from Wei Ying’s position, she could overlook the scene below.
Under the bright moonlight, a man and horse galloped past. The rider wore dark robes, his face blurred by the night, but Wei Ying recognized him at a glance as the man who had fetched medicine for her by the water that day.
Han Jian, a servant of the Yan family.
Her gaze followed him briefly. Not long after, Han Jian came galloping back.
Lightning Chaser neighed again.
It wasn’t even dawn yet. Was he carrying out a task from the master?
He had helped her, after all, so Wei Ying was a little curious—just a tiny bit. She withdrew her gaze, yawned, and finally felt sleepy.
Meanwhile, Han Jian, darting through the night, held the reins in one hand and a paper bag in the other. Inside the bag were the steamed dumplings that Yan Zhuyu favored.
Fortunately, that noodle shop opened at pre-dawn to sell breakfast.
When Han Jian arranged the steaming hot steamed dumplings on a plate amid Yan Zhuyu’s lavish meal, she fell thoughtful. She had only mentioned last night that the shop’s dumplings were good.
At noon, Yan Zhuyu brought a fresh steamer of them to the posthouse. The moment she entered, Qi Bao pounced.
“Ah!”
“Qi Bao.” Wei Xichen, seated at the table eating, spoke up to stop it.
At the sight of this woman, Qi Bao slunk back to Wei Xichen’s feet and turned back into its usual aloof old dog toward people.
After washing her hands, Yan Zhuyu placed the steamer on the table. “This shop’s steamed dumplings are an old brand with great taste. Your Highness, please try them.”
“Much obliged.”
Wei Xichen’s mild and polite tone always gave Yan Zhuyu a sense of helpless distance. She habitually masked her inner bitterness with a smile, pretending nothing was wrong as she squatted on the ground to tease Qi Bao.
But the moment she picked up the straw cloth doll, Qi Bao bared its teeth at her.
Qi Bao never paid Yan Zhuyu any attention and only bared its teeth when she got close—whether because they clashed or it disliked the scent on her, who could say.
Yan Zhuyu smiled warmly and tossed the doll aside, then rose to wash her hands.
To win over Qi Bao, she had sent many little gifts, but the old dog only liked that ragged doll. A beat-up doll, washed and sunned, sunned and washed, patched until its original shape was barely recognizable—what was so special about it?
In a few days, the Lixia Banquet would be held. She had received a reply from Fu Zhongcai saying the Crown Prince wouldn’t attend in person. Though disappointed, she wouldn’t voice any complaints to his face.
“My father has always wanted to pay respects to Your Highness in person. I wonder if Your Highness…”
Wei Xichen set down his chopsticks, wiped the corner of his mouth with a cloth, and smiled faintly. “No need for that. If the Salt Transport Envoy has matters to report, he can submit a memorial.”
Yan Zhuyu nodded with a smile, saying nothing, her heart aching indescribably. Though she resented her father, the benefits shouldn’t flow to outsiders. Her only support she could rely on in the future was her family. Yet between the Crown Prince and her father, beyond their sovereign-minister relationship, there was also something like a son-in-law and prospective father-in-law. Why couldn’t they meet privately?
As she left the posthouse, she looked up at the open second-floor window but saw no white figure. Then, as she turned, a dark sleeve extended before her.
He made to help her mount.
Ever since she had lost face in front of the accompanying officials and guards, she had practiced riding diligently in the Yan Mansion’s back courtyard for many days. Today, she had come on horseback.
Looking at the ever-attentive Han Jian, she suddenly found such attentiveness cheap. “Step aside.”
Han Jian froze, then immediately retreated. His burly frame half-bowed in silent apology, though he had no idea what had offended his mistress.
Wei Xichen had business outside and went to visit an old salt merchant bedridden with a lingering cold. Before leaving, he instructed a trusted attendant to look after Qi Bao.
Qi Bao sensed something and placed its front paws on Wei Xichen’s waist, wriggling its fluffy body in urgent distress.
“I’ll take you to see her later. Stay here and eat properly, alright?”
The man’s gentle, smiling tone carried a hint of coaxing, which the nearby guard picked up on.
Early in the morning, Jiang Yinyue took some bran and beans to the stables and asked Lightning Chaser, “What happened last night?”
She had heard it neighing in the night and originally wanted to check, but
she had been stopped by Wei Qin, who said the cries were nothing serious.
Wei Ying came over laughing, her clothes fluttering in the morning breeze. Her slender frame seemed too frail for the wind, but her brilliant smile added some vitality. “Last night, that man named Han Jian galloped past and startled Lightning Chaser.”
Jiang Yinyue was a bit surprised. Her sister-in-law had only met Han Jian once, yet she could recognize him in the deep night?
She rarely interacted with men outside, and he had helped her, so the impression stuck. Besides, Han Jian was sturdy-built with sharp features and an unapproachable air that made him stand out in a crowd.
“Are you afraid of him?”
“A little.”
Wei Ying wasn’t bold. She instinctively felt Han Jian had a bad temper. If she encountered him alone, even with the favor of the medicine, she wouldn’t dare go up to thank him.
Last time, she should have thanked him properly instead of hiding behind her sister-in-law.
Jiang Yinyue poured the bran into the trough and watched Lightning Chaser devour it. “Han Jian has struck Lightning Chaser before.”
“Ah?”
Wei Ying grew even more afraid of the fierce-looking man.
At that moment, door servant Uncle Song hurried over. “Second Young Madam, just now word came from the posthouse—Qi… Qi Bao was bitten!”
Jiang Yinyue whipped around.
A fragrant breeze brought warmth; with the Lixia Banquet approaching, Jiang Yinyue rode swiftly through the streets, fine sweat beading on her forehead.
The black horse she straddled sped like a shooting star chasing the moon, carrying her straight to the posthouse.
It was Wei Qin’s horse, Chasing Wind.
Jiang Yinyue arrived at the posthouse gate and was led upstairs by a posthouse worker. The moment she entered the room, a figure in white entered her view—Wei Xichen, kneeling on one knee with his back to the door.
She paid no mind that this was Wei Xichen’s temporary quarters; urgency overrode concerns.
“How is it?”
Jiang Yinyue passed the worker and squatted beside Wei Xichen, looking at the listless Qi Bao.
On its milky white fur, a wound on the side of its neck stood out glaringly.
Deep bite marks from canine teeth.
The beast doctor had just shaved the area, treated the wound, and fed it a calming decoction. The fourteen-year-old dog lay weakly in its nest but suddenly wagged its tail.
Thwack thwack thwack against the wall.
Jiang Yinyue gently stroked its head and softly comforted it. “It’s alright. Qi Bao will be just fine.”
But as she spoke, her voice choked up.
Qi Bao was too old; it might not pull through.
The guard responsible for watching Qi Bao was drenched in sweat. He had kindly taken it for a walk in the posthouse courtyard, never expecting the gatekeeper dog to suddenly break free of its chain and clamp onto Qi Bao’s neck. He had used all his strength to pry its jaws open.
The guard stammered, “Your Highness…”
“Stand down.”
Wei Xichen had no time for him; Qi Bao’s condition was dire.
Hearing the woman’s choked voice, his heavy heart filled with more self-reproach. He hadn’t taken good care of it.
“Sorry.”
Whether this apology carried multiple layers or came too late, Jiang Yinyue’s eyes were fixed on the frail Qi Bao; the words fell on deaf ears.
“It needs quiet.”
Wei Xichen silently dismissed the attendants present, leaving only the beast doctor.
Jiang Yinyue sat on the floor, staying close by its side, until Wei Xichen fetched a stool himself and pulled her to sit on it.
He stood nearby, quietly watching her and it.
To the beast doctor, the scene resembled a young couple tending to their shared beloved dog.
A fine drizzle pattered outside the window, falling on the sill and making the posthouse unusually quiet, save for Jiang Yinyue’s discussion with the beast doctor.
The beast doctor mainly treated livestock like horses, sheep, and cattle, but he was expert at bite wounds. He instructed Jiang Yinyue to clean the sore daily to prevent pus or swelling.
“If it recovers well, the wound can heal preliminarily within half a month. If infection sets in…”
After all, it was the Crown Prince’s beloved dog; the doctor didn’t dare continue.
Jiang Yinyue nodded, understanding. She sat back beside Qi Bao, smiling faintly at it, her gentle gaze spilling from reddened eyes.
She held the little straw doll in her hands, rubbing it gently. This was the last doll she had made for Qi Bao; her stitches had been crooked and uneven, but after the palace artisans patched it, it looked more refined. Yet this worthless little trinket had become Qi Bao’s best “companion.”
Perhaps sensing her sadness, the listless Qi Bao suddenly tried to rise, but Wei Xichen immediately held it down and stroked its fur.
Jiang Yinyue swallowed the soreness in her eyes and nose tip, shaking the straw doll with a beaming smile, as if coaxing a swaddled infant.
The side-lying Qi Bao opened its mouth, sticking out its long tongue.
At noon, Fu Zhongcai brought two portions of food and quietly set them on the small table. “Your Highness, it’s time for your meal.”
Wei Xichen waved him away, then looked at Jiang Yinyue. “Have some.”
“This humble wife isn’t hungry.”