When Jiang Kui awoke, she saw her father Jiang Cheng’s whiskery face looming over her, along with her three elder brothers peeking curiously behind him. Birds chirped softly outside the window – it was early morning.
She blinked once before quickly shutting her eyes again.
“Xiaoman,” her father said coldly.
Her lashes fluttered involuntarily.
“Jiang Xiaoman!” her father thundered.
She flinched under his bellow, forced to reopen her eyes and silently meet his glare.
“Done pretending?” he continued icily.
She bit her lip, not daring to speak, gazing timidly at him with a pitiable look. Behind their father, her three brothers mouthed suggestions:
Eldest brother Jiang Luan, ever calm: Father wants to punish you.
Second brother Jiang Feng, quite concerned: Are you feeling alright?
Third brother Jiang Yuan, a bit gleeful: Finally it’s not me being punished?
“I knew you were spoiled, but never imagined to this extent!” Father paced angrily, too aggravated to sit. “Getting drunk, dancing openly on the waterside pavilion, secretly meeting your fiancé, then passed out drunk on someone else’s boat! Thankfully the Crown Prince is broad-minded enough to dismiss your nonsense!”
Jiang Kui blinked.
Drunk…secret rendezvous…passed out on a boat…
Just what had Xie Wuyang told her father?
Hadn’t he been alone drinking tea in the middle of the night?
And she hadn’t intentionally met up with him either – who expected him to randomly appear in such a place?
She suddenly recalled his icy hands lightly clasping her wrist.
After knocking herself out, had he been the one to carry her back? Other than Zhu Zian and her male kin, she had never been in any man’s hold before.
Yet strangely, she did not resist it much.
For some reason she found herself comparing Zhu Zian to Xie Wuyang.
She remembered Zhu Zian also had cooler skin than hers, yet still retained some warmth – his touch at her ear had felt nice and toasty. Xie Wuyang’s hands were freezing as ice, making her shiver slightly.
Rumors said the prince was in poor health, and seemingly true.
Noting her absent wandering, her father bellowed again: “Jiang Xiaoman!”
Jiang Kui straightened her back immediately.
The last time father lost his temper like this was when she and her brothers got caught stealing wine.
She pressed her lips, responding softly: “Daughter has done wrong.”
“Do you know where you went wrong?” Father slammed the bedside table. “First, impromptu inappropriate dancing. Second, getting embroiled in petty court politics. Third – ” He grew more incensed, slapping the table. “Jiang Xiaoman! How long have you been pretending to be ill?!”
Jiang Kui thought to herself: These three main offenses were just as she predicted.
Glancing back, the three round heads behind father wore expressions that said “Just admit it, we can’t help you!”
She bit her lip, murmuring almost inaudibly: “I can’t quite recall…maybe seven or eight years?”
Her father choked loudly.
“Jiang Xiaoman! Jiang Xiaoman!” He began pacing circles. “What a fine daughter I have raised!”
“Daughter knows her wrongs…” she replied weakly.
“Grounded for one month!” Father rapped the table heavily. “From today until the wedding date on the sixteenth, don’t even think about stepping foot outside this room!”
“And!” Another loud rap. “No more afternoon or evening sweets!”
After a pause, seeming to feel the punishment still too light, he harrumphed again: “None for evenings either!”
Third brother Jiang Yuan stealthily elbowed eldest brother Luan, grumbling sotto voce: “How come whenever it’s my punishment there’s no meals?!”
“All of you out!” Father impatiently cuffed Jiang Yuan.
Under his frightening anger, the three brothers scurried deferentially away. Facing the door, father watched their retreating backs, one hand braced against the door frame as he gazed upwards outside.
His voice suddenly softened: “Who taught you spearmanship?”
Jiang Kui started.
As expected. Though she had tried to hide it, the opening stance of her sword dance harbored profound spear intent – easily recognized by her martial father.
But the day she became a disciple, she had promised her master to never reveal to a third party her teacher’s identity.
“No need to reply, I know who it was.” Father’s tone sank low. His fury abruptly vanished, replaced by an unexpected desolation. “You took the spear from the ancestral shrine, yes?”
Jiang Kui lowered her eyes. “Yes.”
She retrieved the spear from their estate’s shrine when going out adventuring, returning it stealthily afterwards. Over a decade, yet no one ever noticed.
Years ago when she first saw the spear as a young girl, before even meeting that master, the shrine had been empty, currents scattering the incense. In the wispy smoke, she had peered through the window at that lone spear.
Its nimble white pear-wood shaft gleamed coldly bright at the sharp tip, yet she strangely sensed an aura of tenderness from it.
“That was your mother’s spear,” her father finished heavily before closing the door.
Lying in bed gazing at the ceiling, morning sunlight streamed over Jiang Kui’s face, like whispers or caresses. She suddenly felt that long-absent gentleness once more.
“Mother,” she murmured. “I miss you all of a sudden.”
In the Eastern Palace’s secluded side chamber, sandalwood incense still smoked.
Xie Wuyang sat before the ceramic stove, staring at his own hands.
He had carelessly discarded his crimson outer robe to the floor, bundled wrinkled around itself. An oversized snowy cloak draped his frame, still seeming slightly chilled amidst the warm fragrant room.
Riiip – the sound of tearing cloth.
Xie Wuyang pulled over a length of undyed linen, shredding it into long narrow strips. The pile of white ribbons grew into a little mound before him. Expressionless, he picked one up and wrapped it slowly around his fingers until both hands were swathed in coarse bandages.
He gazed seriously at his fabric-swaddled hands, flexing his fingers ever so slightly.
And then he smiled silently to himself.
“Your Highness,” Luo Eleven called softly from behind the partition screen. “There is another imperial decree from court this morning.”
The silhouette behind the screen did not stir, only a tranquil voice answering: “Oh? What is it?”
“The decree seems to be…” Luo Eleven hesitated, “…summoning Young Master Jiang to enter the palace.”
A pause behind the screen, before the voice asked: “At whose behest?”
“It appears to be His Majesty’s intention…the princess wishes for Young Master Jiang to continue as her study companion, while Noble Consort also desires to have him reside in the Penglai Palace.”
The shadowy figure rose.
“Can it be stopped? The palace has become too dangerous lately; the general’s estate would be safer.”
“It cannot be halted now…the eunuch bearing the decree is already on the way.”
“By imperial command – Jiang Kui, daughter of Great Cavalry General Jiang Cheng, shall enter the palace—”
For the third time recently, Jiang Kui heard those words, but it was the only summons to delight her.
Just imagining being cooped up for most of a month in her little chamber made her somewhat restless. She had been plotting how to sneak out or scheme with her brothers to mitigate father’s anger when the decree arrived.
She recalled accidentally catching sight of Zhu Zian during her previous palace visit. Might she see him again this time?
Zhu Zian had claimed to be very busy investigating matters inside the palace lately. It was possible he might still be around there. Jiang Kui suspected the issue occupying him had to do with the emerging broker known as the Old Whitehead.
If they did meet, she wanted to properly ask what exactly had happened and why he disappeared from the bookshop for so long.
Quickly gathering her things, she changed into the blue academy uniform and climbed into the cyan-colored sedan towards the imperial city.
Since it was still daytime, she could make the Scholarly Hall lessons. Pushing open the hall doors, a girl by the window immediately whipped around, pretty coral earrings swaying brightly beneath her ears.
“Your Highness, you’ve come!” Xie Rong seized her hand excitedly. “That dance last night was gorgeous – I dare say no one else in the entire court could match it! I heard verse and lyrics were already circulating about you afterwards!”
Jiang Kui squeezed her eyes shut in distress…she hoped everyone would forget about this incident.
“I couldn’t find you later on, where did you disappear to?” Xie Rong continued asking.
Where had she gone afterwards? Well, she seemed to have provoked and held a blade to a certain crown prince…
Jiang Kui now fully believed Xie Wuyang’s words to her father were a form of retaliation against her own rash behavior.
She shut her eyes again…she hoped to forget this matter herself.
“Do you still remember the divination Teacher Zhiyuan did for you about your peach blossom luck?” Xie Rong blinked mysteriously. “Could it be afterwards your romantic fortune bloomed?”
…So her blossoming peach luck at the autumn reception had been…her fiancé?
“I’d like to toss away all his divination slips,” Jiang Kui said resolutely.
“Were his readings inaccurate?” Xie Rong tilted her head.
“No, they were terribly precise!” Jiang Kui gnashed through gritted teeth.
Just then, Teacher Chang Rong entered, holding piles of books and glaring icily about in a decidedly intimidating manner.
The two students shivered down their spines.
They hastily scurried back to their seats, sitting properly upright with elbows folded atop their desks like two obedient little rabbits.
“Your Highness, Young Lady Jiang,” Teacher began, setting his materials down, “Have you completed the assigned essays?”
Just as Jiang Kui was about to admit she had not, she saw Xie Rong neatly produce several sheets from her stack to reverently offer up to their teacher.
…She suddenly felt being confined at the barracks might not be so bad after all.
“Young Lady Jiang, what about yours?” Teacher looked condescendingly down at her.
Jiang Kui secretly stuck her tongue out, bowing deferentially: “This student is slow-witted…may teacher kindly grant a few more days?”
To her surprise, Teacher Chang Rong nodded lightly and easily let her off.
Jiang Kui froze briefly in shock.
Teacher Chang Rong stood at the lectern, one hand gently braced atop the tomes. His normally stern profile seemed strangely frail today. Head bowed, his impeccably bound hair always constrained by the scholar’s cap, yet several loose wispy strands glowed faintly in the autumn sun.
The teacher appeared to be in low spirits.
In fact…was he grieving over something?
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