The local customs of Ye City were quite different from those of Jinling. There were far fewer rigid rules and restrictions, especially when it came to matters of the heart. The people were open and straightforward about love and hate. Some girls were even bolder than the boys. If they saw someone they fancied, they would directly step forward and say, “I want to marry you.”

On Zhuque Bridge, most people were in pairs.

“Miss, you might not know this,” the old physician said with a smile. “When you release a lantern with someone you fancy, your wish is more likely to come true. I wish you all the best, Miss Jiang.”

Rong Ting tilted his head slightly, looking at Jiang Rao.

His pupils shimmered faintly, as though ripples had stirred within them.

The tips of his ears turned a little red.

The old physician’s aged voice carried a remarkable clarity, cutting through the surrounding chatter. Jiang Rao’s ears twitched as she caught his words.

She immediately realized that, just like last time, the old physician had misunderstood the relationship between her and Rong Ting.

A faint blush quickly rose on her cheeks. “It’s not like that…”

“Last time, you told me he wasn’t your betrothed, but now it seems he will be very soon, won’t he?” Her voice was soft, drowned out by the surrounding noise, and the old physician didn’t hear her. He continued speaking to himself, “Young couples growing old together—it’s truly a blessing. When the time comes, you must let this old man have a taste of your wedding sweets!”

Jiang Rao: “…”

Even jumping into the river wouldn’t wash her clean of this misunderstanding.

After the old physician left, she kept her gaze lowered, her eyelashes trembling slightly.

She couldn’t help but worry whether the old physician’s words had reached Rong Ting’s ears. What if he thought she was carelessly spreading rumors about their relationship? Worse, what if it upset him?

She hastily tried to clear her name. “Don’t listen to what that old physician said. He misunderstood.”

…

Rong Ting’s gaze lowered, his eyelids concealing his thoughts.

His fingers tensed, a hint of melancholy flickering in his gaze.

…

“Your Majesty.”

Empress Jiahe stepped into Emperor Zhaowu’s bedchamber, a palace maid following behind her, carrying a soup pot. “I heard that Your Majesty has been occupied with state affairs and hasn’t had any time to rest. I asked the Imperial Kitchen to prepare some Erchen Soup to help revitalize you.”

Emperor Zhaowu, weary, lifted his head from the pile of memorials on the desk.

The Empress approached him with care, gently massaging his shoulders as she spoke in a soft voice. “Why have so many memorials piled up?”

The Emperor frowned. “The flooding in Nanzhang remains unresolved, and there have been an increasing number of reports submitted about it.”

The Empress lowered her gaze with deference. “Your Majesty, there are now three princes who have come of age. Perhaps it would be wise to let them share some of the burden.”

Her suggestion was tactfully worded. While she aimed to have the Fourth Prince—aligned with her faction—take on more responsibilities, she cleverly included mention of the other princes. This lent her proposal an air of fairness, concealing her true intentions.

Emperor Zhaowu pondered briefly. “Not for now.”

First, he was still in his prime and far from needing to delegate state affairs to his sons.

Second, it wasn’t as though he hadn’t tried entrusting his sons with responsibilities before.

However, the elder ones had proven to be neither steady nor mature. Instead, they were impatient and competitive, constantly scheming against one another in secret.

Far from being helpful, they only caused him more headaches.

He couldn’t help but wonder if any of his younger sons, who had yet to fully grow, might eventually display the competence and steadiness he desired.

Sensing his growing impatience, Empress Jiahe wisely chose not to press the matter further.

Instead, she continued silently and attentively massaging his aching shoulders.

Her gentle touch, as always, was something Emperor Zhaowu appreciated. A hint of contentment softened his expression, and a trace of affection as a husband surfaced in his eyes.

He asked about the Seventeenth Prince, “Is Xiao Qi still practicing his archery lately?”

Hearing him take the initiative to mention Xiao Qi, Empress Jiahe felt a surge of delight in her heart.

However, she couldn’t help but recall how, just before coming to Emperor Zhaowu, she had scolded the Seventeenth Prince for slacking off. The frustration of his shortcomings—”iron not becoming steel”—lingered in her chest. She suppressed it, steadied her emotions, and replied with a calm tone:

“He’s been practicing diligently. He’s still a little upset about what happened last time and is determined to improve. He says he wants to show you his skills when he’s ready.”

“It’s a pity Your Majesty has been so busy with state affairs and hasn’t had the chance to see him in action. Before he practices, he always takes a look at your hunting portraits from your younger days. When he shoots, he tries to mimic your form.”

The Empress smiled gently. “But at his young age, trying to match his father’s heroic bearing… well, it won’t be an easy feat.”

Her words both praised Xiao Qi and flattered Emperor Zhaowu, setting the stage for a favorable response. Yet instead of the reply she expected, the Emperor said, “Have Xiao Jiu teach him. That would be much better than staring at my portraits. Xiao Jiu’s archery skills are truly remarkable.”

The Empress felt as though an arrow had pierced her heart. Her fingers clenched tightly, nails digging into her palms, but her expression remained composed, though her eyes glistened with unshed tears.

“It’s a shame Xiao Jiu isn’t in the palace right now,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. ” Xiao Jiu…”

“I raised him for thirteen years. Now that he’s been away from me for a year, I…”

Her voice choked, as though overwhelmed with sorrow, unable to continue.

“I miss Xiao Jiu as well,” Emperor Zhaowu said, patting her back in a gesture of comfort. “Once his leg injury heals, he’ll naturally return.”

The Empress pretended to wipe away tears.

She had gone to great lengths to send Rong Ting away from Jinling. If he were to return, all her efforts would be in vain.

The mere thought made her feel like choking on her own frustration, as if the heavens were conspiring against her.

That day will never come, she reassured herself silently.

Emperor Zhaowu had initially intended to mention that he’d already sent someone to bring Rong Ting back so he could personally assess his recovery.

But seeing her so distraught, a different idea formed in his mind.

Moved by her apparent maternal concern, he decided to keep it a secret for now. He would bring Xiao Jiu back and then tell her, surprising her with the reunion.

…

At the lantern riddle stall, it was three copper coins for a guess.

The prizes given for solving lantern riddles if simply displayed for sale might not have piqued Jiang Rao’s interest. But as rewards for solving riddles? That made them intriguing.

She wanted them.

With a pouch full of copper coins, she stopped in front of the lantern riddle stall and eagerly took a seat.

Behind her, Rong Ting’s wheelchair was positioned just half a step away from her stool. His broad shoulders stood out amidst the bustling crowd, and the flow of pedestrians behind him was constant. Occasionally, the edge of someone’s clothing brushed against him as they passed.

Rong Ting’s expression darkened.

Suppressing the irritation welling up inside him, he endured it silently, shifting slightly to shield her from the crush of people near the riddle stall.

Jiang Rao was a seasoned regular at lantern riddle stalls.

In previous years, every Lantern Festival, she would insist on solving every single riddle at the stall before heading home.

This habit had exasperated Fourth Master Jiang so much that he set a rule for her: even during festivals, she had to be back home by the Hour of the Dog.

At the bustling Spring Festival in Ye City, Jiang Rao had been itching to visit the lantern riddle stall. As soon as she came down from Zhuque Bridge, she headed straight for it.

She spent thirty copper coins to draw ten riddles of moderate difficulty. Just as she was about to open the first one, a warm and gentle voice spoke from the other side of the candlelight.

“Miss Jiang, we meet again.”

Jiang Rao looked up to see Yang Xiuzhu, but her attention was quickly drawn to the person beside him.

It was a young girl with delicate features, strikingly similar to Yang Xiuzhu. Like him, she had slender phoenix-shaped eyes, but her gaze was fiery and filled with anger. When she looked at Jiang Rao, her expression bristled with hostility.

Jiang Rao found it a little odd.

The blatant hostility practically radiating from the girl’s expression was so obvious it was as if she might as well say it aloud.

And yet, they were meeting for the first time.

Deciding not to dwell on it, Jiang Rao lowered her head and continued working on her riddles.

If others don’t provoke me, I won’t provoke them.

Yang Qi’an, however, was fuming.

With Jiang Rao’s mask still concealing her face, Yang Qi’an couldn’t see her expression. But her apparent indifference, so unlike the eager flattery and attention she was used to receiving from the noble girls of Ye City, stung her pride.

Feeling slighted for the first time, Yang Qi’an grew increasingly irritated, her temper flaring. With a huff, she called out to the stall owner, “I want ten riddles too!”

Her gaze lingered on the mask Jiang Rao wore, and she pursed her lips in displeasure.

So ugly.

The mask is ugly. Who knows? The face beneath it might be even worse.

The stall owner, recognizing Yang Qi’an, greeted her with enthusiasm. “Ah, isn’t this our little prodigy?”

Yang Qi’an smugly tilted her chin upward and let out a haughty “hmph” in Jiang Rao’s direction.

Yang Xiuzhu frowned, reprimanding her. “Behave yourself.”

Watching her self-satisfied demeanor, he couldn’t help but feel exasperated. She truly acted as though she believed herself to be a paragon of talent.

While others might not know the truth, as her older brother, he was all too aware. His sister’s shallow knowledge wasn’t nearly enough to live up to her “prodigy” reputation.

The people here addressed her that way mostly out of respect for him or their father.

It had very little to do with her own abilities.

Yang Qi’an, further annoyed, felt as though her brother’s attention had been entirely stolen by the masked figure across from them. With a pointed tone, she raised her voice, saying. “These lantern riddles aren’t something just anyone can solve.”

Jiang Rao: “…”

Jiang Rao felt the urge to switch stalls.

The noise was starting to get on her nerves.

She patiently finished solving the ten riddles she had drawn, handing them to the stall owner.

As a seasoned regular, she was quick at solving riddles, easily following the tricks and patterns of the puzzles.

The stall owner was impressed. “You got them all right.”

Yang Qi’an froze, her expression stiffening.

She was still holding the first riddle’s paper, utterly clueless. Seeing that Jiang Rao had already finished, her impatience grew.

The more anxious she became, the more her mind went blank.

It dawned on her that her earlier words had backfired on her.

Sweating in frustration, she turned to her brother for help. “Brother, help me.”

But her older brother, Yang Xiuzhu, simply said, “Since you’re a prodigy, you should solve it yourself.”

He gave Jiang Rao an admiring look, completely ignoring his younger sister.

Yang Qi’an, feeling utterly embarrassed, wanted to find a hole to crawl into. Her brow furrowed in frustration as she called out to Jiang Rao’s retreating figure, “So you can only solve the easy ones? If you’re so capable, solve the hardest riddle!”

Jiang Rao had been about to leave, but after being provoked multiple times by a stranger, her patience finally snapped.

She was spoiled at home and wasn’t the type to let herself be pushed around. She turned back, saying firmly. “Boss, I’ll take the hardest riddle.”

However, as soon as she got the hardest riddle, she immediately regretted her decision.

Now, this is tough…

She felt a wave of embarrassment and discomfort wash over her.

Yang Qi’an, from the other side, noticed her unease and finally breathed a sigh of relief, feeling much better about herself.

At that moment, a pair of hands reached from behind Jiang Rao and took the riddle paper from her hands.

“The ‘qing’ from ‘qingcheng’.” Rong Ting glanced at the riddle and spoke calmly.

The stall owner clapped his hands in admiration. “This riddle has been here for years, and no one has ever solved it. This young lad is the first one. Impressive!”

Yang Qi’an, dissatisfied with the outcome, angrily slapped the table and pointed at Jiang Rao. “You didn’t solve it yourself, so what’s so impressive about it?”

But then, from the wheelchair, the young man’s voice rang out calmly and clearly. “She taught me.”

Jiang Rao’s heart skipped a beat.

Was this the moment her wish—to have him treat her a little better—was finally coming true?

It was clear now. He was standing on her side.

Could she escape the outcome from her dreams?

Jiang Rao reflected on the effort she had put into caring for him, protecting him like a precious treasure. Finally, her hard work was bearing fruit, and her heart nearly overflowed with emotion.

Rong Ting shot a cold, piercing glance at Yang Qi’an, then shifted his gaze to Yang Xiuzhu.

His eyes were sharp, as if deliberately showing them to Yang Xiuzhu.

He gently tugged at Jiang Rao’s sleeve, tilting his head slightly and looking up at her. “Shall we go?”

As he turned his gaze toward her, all the sharpness faded, replaced with calm and obedience. “I don’t want to stay here anymore.”

So obedient.

Jiang Rao’s gaze dropped to the hand that had gently gripped her sleeve.

His slender fingers, pale and delicate as jade.

So obedient, just like the little white puppy her grandmother had raised, always sticking its paws out to her when it wanted to be held.

She couldn’t resist. She gently pushed Rong Ting’s wheelchair. “Let’s go.”

Behind her, a voice suddenly rang out:

“Still wearing that mask? Are you too ugly to show your face? An ugly person paired with a cripple—it’s a perfect match!”

It was Yang Qi’an, red-eyed with rage, her words spitting out in frustration, her need to vent overwhelming her judgment.

Yang Xiuzhu’s face immediately darkened with anger. “Yang Qi’an!”

Jiang Rao turned her head, her eyes sharp and cold, like a blade.

A cripple?

At the same time, the swift movement of her turning caused the string of her mask to get caught on her hairpin, and the mask fell away.

=^_^=