In the Capital City, within the palace halls.
The night breeze stirred the golden step-shake hairpin, its fine ornaments twinkling under the moonlight. The elegant and luxurious Empress Dong departed from the emperor’s bedchamber, her mind elsewhere as she descended the white jade steps.
Deep in the palace halls, the old beauty lingered, with pearl hairpins and gold thread shoes, yet she could not rival the new beauty’s hold on the sovereign’s heart.
The new beauty laughed, the old one cried—beauties flowed like water, but the emperor’s heart was cast in iron.
The emperor’s heart was fickle.
Empress Dong drew in a breath of the cool ink-black night air and descended the jade steps, where she happened to run into Wise Consort Guo approaching from the front.
“Paying respects to Elder Sister.”
The plump and richly adorned Wise Consort curtsied gracefully. Unlike the other consorts in the rear palace who gazed longingly in fear of neglect, her cheeks were rosy, her brows arched in delight, showing no panic over months without attending the emperor.
Empress Dong cast her a cold glance. Of course—this new favorite currently in the emperor’s graces was one that the Wise Consort had presented to him.
A tool to secure her favor.
“His Majesty has no energy to see you right now, Younger Sister. Come another day.”
Wise Consort Guo covered her mouth with her sleeve and smiled, curtsied once more, then gracefully ascended the jade steps and entered the bedchamber doors directly.
The imperial guards before the emperor did not stop her.
Empress Dong turned back for a long look, unconsciously clenching her fists.
Wise Consort Guo was the mother of the Third Prince. Mother and son knew best how to cater to the emperor’s tastes, often making him roar with laughter. Now, with this new favored beauty from the Guo Clan added, their fortunes were steadily rising to their peak.
The next morning, as Empress Dong left the palace to visit her father, she spoke of the Wise Consort and her son with utter disgust and disdain.
The Old Grand Chancellor, draped in a large robe and reclining against the edge of the couch, peeled a lychee and handed it to his daughter. “Here, sweeten your heart.”
“Father isn’t worried that the Third Prince might win His Majesty’s approval?”
“A dragon sires a dragon—how could it produce a mouse? If he gains approval, so be it. No need to be overly anxious. As the empress of the central palace, you must have the magnanimity of its mistress.”
“Daughter is worried about Father’s health…”
“You’re worried that Tao Qian might succeed as Grand Secretary and bolster the Third Prince’s faction.”
The elder who once shook the court with a mere cough had reached his twilight years. His vigor faded, but his aged eyes remained sharp and piercing, as if concentrating his last vestiges of sharpness and strength.
“As long as the Cui Clan doesn’t stir trouble, the Third Prince alone can’t shake the Crown Prince’s position. Remember, always guard against the Cui Clan. Don’t let them reap the fisherman’s profit.”
“What does Father mean…”
“Back then, when the Eldest Prince’s carriage exploded, his body shattered beyond recognition—that remains a thorn in my side.”
Grand Secretary Dong coughed, blood staining the handkerchief. He quickly balled it up, not wanting his daughter to worry. “When the snipe and clam fight, both suffer—that might be exactly what the Cui father and son hope to see.”
Empress Dong clutched her skirt hem in unease.
“The urgent matter now is selecting consorts for the Eastern Palace.” Grand Secretary Dong leaned against the couch railing, gasping for breath. His body withered like a vine. “Persuade the Crown Prince not to favor any one woman exclusively.”
Mentioning exclusive favor made Empress Dong seethe. The Crown Prince’s trusted aide had galloped back posthaste, delivering news of the Yangzhou salt administration accounts to the palace. “At least we’ve dealt with that Yan Zhuyu.”
“So that’s why Father had her father promoted to Salt Transport Envoy back then.” Grand Secretary Dong picked up a lychee, crushing it between his fingers until the flesh pulped and juice splattered. “A petty underling without depth or foundation—indeed, he couldn’t withstand the test. Human greed is like a snake swallowing an elephant. Had he passed, I might have thought better of him.”
Yan Hongchang’s fate had long been toyed with in the palm of this Dong family head, indirectly shattering Yan Zhuyu’s ambitions as well.
How could an ordinary father-daughter pair contend with an old fox who had weathered decades of court intrigues?
Cutting off the Crown Prince’s rotten peach blossom was a trap the Old Grand Chancellor had set the moment he first laid eyes on Yan Zhuyu.
The originally chosen daughter of the Jiang Mansion would have solidified ties between the mighty Dong and Jiang families. Jiang Song had only one son and one daughter, doting on her like a pearl in his palm. Welcoming the Jiang family’s daughter into the Eastern Palace would have bound Jiang Song to serve the Crown Prince loyally. Who could have foreseen an eighth-rank minor official’s daughter barging in midway!
Grand Secretary Dong tossed aside the lychee, casting off the vexing memories along with it.
In Yangzhou.
Emerging from the stone chamber, the saber-carrying youth got a knock on the back of his head from Manager Xie, who was perched on a boulder.
The youth cursed, “You dog bastard! Fuck your mother!”
“You brat.” Manager Xie jumped down from the boulder and pointed at the stone chamber. “Has she talked?”
“With this young master making a move, how could she have any room to bargain!”
“Good. Once the Crown Prince’s final courier delivers the memorial closing the case, we’ll set off immediately.”
They couldn’t be sure in which memorial the Crown Prince had written about Yan Zhuyu’s faked death, so waiting for the case to close was safest.
Yan Yi rubbed his nose. “There are too many motley crews; the case won’t wrap up for a while.”
“We’ll wait. We’ve waited this many years already.”
Thinking of something, Manager Xie asked the youth, “That Sweat-Blooded Steed—have you dealt with it?”
“Sold it to a horse ranch in the county town.”
“Who told you to act on your own?” Manager Xie lifted his seemingly lame leg and swiftly kicked Yan Yi. “That’s an old horse, and an old horse knows the way! Go to that county town right now!”
Better late than never to mend the fold after the sheep is lost!
Yan Yi grumbled, “Thirty li away—could it really find its way back on its own? Besides, it’s an imperial steed from the palace, not a local Yangzhou breed. How would it know the way? Anyway, it’s an innocent life; I couldn’t bring myself to kill it.”
“You call yourself ruthless? You’re nothing of the sort!”
Enraged, Manager Xie tossed aside his crutch, asked for the ranch’s exact location, and strode swiftly toward the stables, intending to handle it personally. One must not underestimate a Sweat-Blooded Steed!
In the nearby County Princess Mansion, the girl lay on her back atop the main building’s roof, swinging a jar of wine in her hand as she muttered to herself, “When will that old fox Dong croak? Old man Cui, old man Cui—you’re the court know-it-all; how come you can’t figure it out?”
She took a swig of wine and let out a satisfied “Ahh.” Hearing a dog’s bark, she sat up abruptly and saw a pure white hunting hound bounding into the courtyard with its mouth open, followed by a woman in a scarlet skirt.
“Yo, a rare guest.”
Jiang Yinyue looked up at the girl on the roof. “Just bringing Qi Bao for a visit.”
“Isn’t this the Crown Prince’s beloved dog?” Cui Shihan leaped down from the roof, using the wine jar to draw Qi Bao’s attention. “It’s gotten so fat?”
“Woof woof woof!”
“You understood that, huh?”
Cui Shihan shrugged with a laugh and kept teasing Qi Bao. She had entered the palace young and seen Qi Bao a few times, recognizing it at a glance as the hound kept in the Eastern Palace.
Qi Bao jumped up, nudging the wine jar with its nose.
Jiang Yinyue approached the girl. “I originally wanted to board it at your mansion, but it’s timid and might not adapt.”
Wei Xichen had stormed off in a huff, leaving Qi Bao behind. Sooner or later, she would take it back, but unless he asked, she wouldn’t return it proactively. This way, she could spend more time with it.
Her little aunt at home couldn’t approach Qi Bao, so she kept it in Hanlan Courtyard where she and Wei Qin lived, preventing it from running amok and triggering her aunt’s sensitivities. If that didn’t work, she’d trouble Cui Shihan to care for it.
Tired from playing, Qi Bao curled up in the courtyard shade and fell fast asleep. The two women sat on the roof, chatting idly.
“Always drinking alone?”
“What else? Will you keep me company?”
“My tolerance is poor.”
“Forget it then. I’m destined to be a lonely wanderer.”
Jiang Yinyue smiled, picking up a small unopened jar on the roof. “This girl will make an exception for the County Princess today.”
Cui Shihan promptly unsealed it for her. “Great, great. Rest assured, if you board Qi Bao here, I’ll treat it like a VIP. If the Crown Prince comes to demand it back, I’ll fight him for it.”
“Worth making this wine-and-meat friend.”
“Come, come, my wine-and-meat friend—take a sip.”
Their jars clinked, and they drank heartily amid laughter.
After downing a small jar, Cui Shihan glanced at Jiang Yinyue, who had passed out insensate on the roof, then grabbed her jar and gulped it down.
“Fetch an umbrella.”
In the evening, Wei Qin received a message and arrived at the County Princess Mansion. Cui Shihan was still on the roof, holding an umbrella tilted over Jiang Yinyue to shield her from the sun while sipping from a wine jar with her other hand.
“You’re here.” She folded the umbrella and pointed at the prostrate Jiang Yinyue. “Your wife is drunk.”
Wei Qin gave the girl an indifferent glance, stepped past the approaching Qi Bao, bounded up to the roof in a few strides, and landed steadily between the two women, separating them.
Shrouded in shadow, Cui Shihan looked up at Wei Qin against the rippling sunset, lips twitching ambiguously. She hugged the two empty jars, jumped down, and slunk gray-faced into the house.
Wei Qin squatted beside Jiang Yinyue, elbows on his knees, a touch of helplessness in his eyes. He gently lifted her right arm, hoisted her onto his shoulder, and draped his outer robe over her.
Qi Bao stuck to Wei Qin’s leg, wagging its big tail and following along. Its round eyes reflected the sight of its master bundled up like a silkworm chrysalis in a disheveled state.
“Mmm…”
In her jostling haze, Jiang Yinyue regained a sliver of awareness. Unable to shake off the outer robe covering her, she kicked feebly.
“Put me down…”
Her tongue thick with drink.
Wei Qin pinned her legs and carried her home. He didn’t allow the maid Du Juan to approach, personally tending to his muddled-drunk wife.
He laid her flat on the bed and removed her embroidered shoes. Twisting dry a silk handkerchief, he bent at the bedside.
“Come.”
Jiang Yinyue opened her eyes, waving her hand drunkenly. “Hong Mei, don’t tell Father—Father will scold me again.”
“Who am I?”
“Hong Mei.”
Wei Qin rubbed his forehead. In all their years together, his wife had gotten drunk only twice, both times involving Cui Shihan. He should advise her against frequent contact in the future.
Even a heavy drinker would bow before Cui Shihan—what chance did his one-jar lightweight wife have?
“Is she that important to you? Willing to risk your life for a kindred spirit?” Wei Qin sat on the bed’s edge and asked softly.
In her dazed state, Jiang Yinyue whined, “Hong Mei, I feel awful.”
“Du Juan is brewing sober-up soup.”
“Help me undress.”
Jiang Yinyue tugged at her collar, scratching the skin irritated by stray hairs, leaving faint red trails on the snowy white expanse.
Her skin was supple as could be.
Wei Qin restrained her hand and smoothed the long hair tangled at her chest.
Undulating peaks appeared briefly, half-hidden in a crimson bellyband.
On the bellyband, a pair of mandarin ducks played in water, vivid and lifelike.
Wei Qin turned his face away, intending to fasten her collar, but a small hand caught his.
“Why has your voice changed?”
Jiang Yinyue stuffed “Hong Mei’s” hand inside, clinging like a koala.
The peak leaned against the sturdy pine.
Wei Qin felt the warmth of her heartbeat through his arm, like a sturdy pine. He gripped the silk handkerchief tighter; droplets seeped out, trickling through his fingers to drip onto the mandarin ducks.
Feeling the wetness, Jiang Yinyue released her hand and reached down to touch her chest.
It was soaked.
Cool and chilling, making her shiver.
“Hong Mei, you splashed me.”
She pouted, struggled to sit up, and playfully pounced on the “good sister” at the bed’s edge, resting her head on her back.
“I miss you so much.”
Wei Qin carried her on his back, pacing slowly in the side chamber to help dissipate the alcohol.
But the little drunkard, no match for her liquor, was utterly restless. She wrapped her limbs around Wei Qin’s tall frame, hooked her small feet together to clamp his waist, and cried, “Giddyup.”
Treating him like Lightning Chaser again.
Wei Qin turned his head. “Your Sister Hong Mei is leaving—shall we see her off?”
“No leaving.”
Jiang Yinyue squeezed her knees and smacked below his waist. “Giddyup.”
In her muddled mind, chasing her Sister Hong Mei.
The man felt a sharp twinge below his waist and halted abruptly, setting the little drunkard on the icy table.
An unprecedented emotion flickered across the man’s face.
Cool detachment laced with helpless resignation.
He couldn’t hold it against a drunkard.
The little drunkard sat at the table’s edge, swinging her legs; her open collar hung thoroughly loose.
The mandarin ducks floated beneath the peaks.
Undried dampness clung to the embroidery on one duck.
This bellyband was Hong Mei’s handiwork—thin silk, exquisite embroidery.
Captivating.
Reflected in Wei Qin’s eyes.
With no horse left, the little drunkard reached to tug the man’s robes. “Help me mount up.”
Wei Qin, helpless yet obedient, gripped under her arms and lifted her, letting her hang in his embrace.
His large hands supported her rear to keep her from slipping.
Jiang Yinyue repeated the trick, hooking her feet around his waist, tilting her head back with a grin. “The wine is good.”
Wei Qin lowered his eyes and asked along with her words, “Your alcohol tolerance is that good?”
She even knew how to appreciate wine now.
Jiang Yinyue nodded. “Next time, I’ll treat you to a drink.”
She blinked her watery almond eyes and suddenly noticed a wound. She immediately wrapped her arms tightly around Wei Qin’s neck, propping herself up to stare at the sword injury. “You’re hurt.”
In a moment of crisis, wine could clean a wound. She leaned in repeatedly, using her sandalwood lips laced with the aroma of alcohol to tend to the sword wound for him.
When the wet, soft sensation came from the side of his neck, the large hand Wei Qin had propped on Jiang Yinyue’s hip unconsciously tightened.
His palm was filled with soft, bouncy flesh.
The unfamiliar sensation made the young and vigorous “scholar” uncomfortable. He leaned his neck back slightly, and his light breathing grew heavier.
His fingertips trembled.
Prominent blue veins bulged on the back of his hand.
“Miss.”
Jiang Yinyue continued to suck at the wound. “I’m helping you.”
Wei Qin licked his dry lips. The uncontrollable panting made his chest heave. He carried her back to the table, sat her on it, and without any extra hesitation, cupped the woman’s face with both hands and kissed her.
“Mmph? Mmm…”
The woman who was kissed tried instinctively to pull away but could not move. She was forced to endure it.
The faint sounds of lips pressing together continued without end.
The scholar kissed the drunken miss forcefully. His jaw clenched and relaxed repeatedly.
The woman’s lips were sweet and slick, exceptionally tender after being soaked in yellow wine.
The scholar was insatiable.
“Mmm… Let me go…”
Wei Qin pulled back slightly, panting lightly as he gazed at her intently. A bewitching flush of thin red spread from the corners of his narrow eyes.
It only added to his allure.
His thumb brushed over the wetness lingering on her lips. He buried his face in the hollow of her neck to calm his rising heat.
Over a thousand days and nights, he knew not when affection had arisen or desire ignited. In the end, he was merely a mortal man of the world and could not withstand the trials of love and lust.
His left hand, wrapped in white cloth, threaded into the woman’s black satin-like hair, gripping the back of her neck. Amid her dazed gaze, he leaned in once more and captured those two soft lips.
His desires were hard to satisfy.
His own restraint crumbled like it could not withstand even the scrape of a bone knife.