Ning Fu’s declaration eased Emperor Jingwen’s expression considerably. “What a coincidence that you’ve run into me today,” he remarked.

Ning Fu weighed things over in her mind. Simply agreeing to spar with the princess wasn’t enough—she was no match for the Northern Qi princess who’d grown up on horseback. She had to make sure that even in defeat, the emperor wouldn’t hold it against her. She glanced at Ning Yu.

Understanding her intent, Ning Yu stepped forward and knelt before the emperor. “Your Majesty, my younger sister has only studied horsemanship and archery seriously for about ten days. She was bedridden with illness not long ago—I worry for her safety.”

Ning Fu felt a twinge of guilt. Truthfully, she’d practiced far longer than ten days—two lifetimes, in fact. But now was the time Ning Yu’s statement needed to stand. If she lost, it would be due to inexperience and frailty, not because noblewomen of the Duke’s house—or Great Yan—lacked merit. Her defeat would be justifiable and not shameful to the nation.

She looked up at the emperor and said earnestly, “Uncle, I’ve always admired women skilled in mounted archery. This is a rare opportunity—I’ll be careful during the sparring match with the princess.”

The irritation in Emperor Jingwen’s gaze began to melt away, replaced with genuine warmth. “You’re quite the fearless young calf, aren’t you? Very well—if it’s a rare opportunity, then go ahead and learn from the princess.”

Ning Fu felt a wave of relief. His use of the phrase “learn from” indicated that he accepted she was less skilled than the princess—he no longer cared whether she won or lost.

Ning Yu opened his mouth to speak again, but the emperor waved him off. “I promise you, your sister won’t suffer the slightest harm. Jinzhu—she’s from the same school as you. You’ll be responsible for ensuring her safety.”

Jinzhu was Zong Si’s courtesy name.

“I obey,” Zong Si said, rising to bow.

With that, Ning Yu withdrew without further word.

Ning Fu turned to the Northern Qi princess with sincere admiration in her voice. “Your Highness, your skill in mounted archery is exquisite—renowned even in Yan. My own abilities pale in comparison. I only hope you won’t find me lacking.”

There was no disguising the admiration in her tone. Although Ning Fu’s desire to spar was not wholehearted, her reverence for the princess was utterly genuine—more true than gold. Her words didn’t come off as insincere in the least.

Initially, the princess had intended to knock the noblewomen of Yan down a peg. But Ning Fu’s sincere praise was clearly appreciated. With a hearty laugh, she said, “Everyone starts from nothing. My brother used to laugh at my poor riding as a child. Don’t worry—I’m no brute.”

The contest would be split between archery and horsemanship, starting with the bow.

The princess’s bow was nearly half her height, inlaid with Northern Qi royal insignias. Its taut, thick bowstring formed a crescent—weighty and powerful. Such bows were typically used by men, and it was no easy feat for a woman to master one.

By contrast, Ning Fu’s bow was delicate and ornate—its limbs fine-grained and vividly patterned, deep red in color, with jet-black jade inlaid along the back. To the discerning eye, it was clearly a masterwork.

The Sixth Prince, Meng Ze, looked on with a teasing, almost pitying smile. “What a waste.”

To him, Ning Fu was a delicate flower—like snow’s glow. Surely her archery couldn’t be worth much. A fine bow in the hands of a lady unsuited to horseback archery? A waste indeed.

The drums thundered—the contest had begun.

The princess’s expression remained composed. Holding the bow in her left hand and pulling the string with her right, she released her arrow with decisive force. It landed flawlessly inside the bronze cup, causing it to tremble from the sheer momentum of impact.

Applause broke out among the spectators.

“Excellent!” exclaimed the proud envoy from Northern Qi.

Ning Fu privately marveled—even among men, few could match such precision. She knew she was certain to lose today, but also knew her skill well enough to avoid a disgraceful defeat. After all, she had trained under Zong Si himself. With a top-tier mentor, the student couldn’t be too far off.

Though her strength couldn’t compare to the princess’s, her technique and aim were solid. Her first arrow missed the cup but grazed its rim—just barely off the mark. She was well aware of her limits, but to the others, her performance came as a surprise. While her accuracy wasn’t perfect, her style had a high degree of visual appeal.

Emperor Jingwen couldn’t help but laugh in admiration. “Seems I underestimated the Duke’s young lady. To reach this level in just over ten days—clearly talented.”

The Sixth Prince raised his eyebrows, intrigued. Archery was notoriously difficult to master—yet here was a seemingly pampered girl showing remarkable grit.

Zong Si was surprised as well. One glance told him Ning Fu’s technique couldn’t possibly be the result of a mere ten days of practice. Whoever had taught her must’ve invested significant time and patience—otherwise, her strengths wouldn’t be this pronounced. But as he watched her second arrow, a frown unconsciously formed. His expression grew colder.

The trick she used for leveraging momentum wasn’t from Master Guanyang—it was a method Zong Si himself had developed in private. No one knew this technique but him. So how had she learned it?

He rubbed his brow. She couldn’t have planted a spy by his side—but her maternal grandmother, Princess Kangyang, might have. And if her maternal grandmother’s household truly had inside knowledge, it could signal an intent to interfere with the crown prince selection—a threat he couldn’t ignore.

Each archer was given ten arrows. The princess struck the bronze cup six times. Ning Fu missed her early shots, landed one mid-match, and then found her rhythm, finishing with three hits in total. Though she lost, her defeat was honorable.

Emperor Jingwen was utterly delighted, exclaiming “Good!” three times in succession.

“You’re full of surprises, Miss Ning,” the princess said with a smile. The contest had turned out far more entertaining than she’d expected.

Ning Fu returned the praise with heartfelt admiration: “Your Highness opened my eyes today—better than many men.” A true woman of distinction.

“I’m actually looking forward to the riding match now,” said the princess.

Being acknowledged by the princess was no small honor—Ning Fu was overjoyed. Yet when she saw Zong Si watching from afar with a cold, analytical gaze, the joy in her smile faded slightly. But then she recalled that both Zong Si and Lu Xingzhi had studied under Master Guanyang. Even if Zong Si noticed something, she had Lu Xingzhi to fall back on as her shield. That thought steadied her.

As for the upcoming riding challenge, Ning Fu’s performance would hold up well, too. Her figure was slender, and once she mounted the horse, everyone finally realized—she was calm as a maiden at rest, swift as a hare in motion. When she raised her whip, it was with a spirited elegance, yet softer and more graceful than any man. She rode like a celestial maiden descending to earth.

Prince Meng Ze could feel his blood rush downward. He had to drink a cup of chilled tea just to quell the heat. It had been half a month of restraint during the autumn hunt, yet he found himself so easily stirred. Aside from this moment, there had also been the dancer some time ago who’d kept him restless at night. He had originally intended to bring the dancer back to his manor, but when he finally met her, she seemed utterly ordinary—nothing like the woman who had dazzled him that day with her performance. He let the matter drop.

With Zong Si escorting the match, everything proceeded without incident. They competed in horsemanship. Although Ning Fu didn’t defeat the princess, her performance had its merits.

Emperor Jingwen laughed. “The princess’s reputation is well-deserved, and Ah Fu is also worthy of praise. Both should be rewarded.”

A royal reward from the emperor was a tremendous honor.

Ning Fu smiled radiantly. “Thank you, Uncle.”

The princess also bowed. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The emperor then turned to Lu Xingzhi. “Xingzhi, your teaching has promise. It seems the palace’s princes and princesses might need you to guide them in the future.”

“Your Majesty flatters me,” Lu Xingzhi replied with calm humility.

Ning Fu glanced at him, not knowing when he had arrived. She thought it wouldn’t be bad to train royal heirs in horsemanship and archery. If he were appointed Tutor to the Crown Prince, it’d be a respectable position—stable, not overly taxing, and held in high esteem. She searched for her brother and Wei Ziyi. Seeing their relieved expressions, she too felt reassured. Her spar with the princess had truly earned her some recognition.

Before, she could slip through unnoticed. Now, with the public’s eyes upon her, she had to be more cautious. And with the princess requesting her company personally, she and Lu Xingzhi had no chance to meet again.

Otherwise, she would’ve liked to hear how that quiet man might praise her. Joining the princess on outings, she was taught several riding techniques, from which she gained much.

One day, after climbing to the mountain peak, the princess laid out a blanket and pastries, planning to rest a while.

“Are you betrothed?” the princess asked curiously.

Ning Fu shook her head. “Not yet.”

The princess leaned in with interest. “Is your heart set on Young Master Lu? He looks like the kind who would make a woman very happy—seems calm and indifferent, but I bet he’s rough in bed.”

Bold and uninhibited, the princess might have overwhelmed Ning Fu—had Ning Fu not been, deep down, someone who had already known the life of a married woman. Touching her nose awkwardly, she gave no reply. Such a statement was not one a proper young lady could respond to.

“Do you know why I came to Great Yan to choose a husband?” the princess asked again.

“Why?” Ning Fu asked, genuinely curious.

The princess leaned in with a knowing smile. “In Northern Qi, it’s said your Yan men have a better reputation in the bedroom. Ours may be bulkier, but they’re just fancy pillows—look at someone like the Heir, with that trim waist and upright posture. That’s the type who truly knows how to please a woman.”

Ning Fu knew she was joking, but recalling her past life’s intimate moments with Zong Si still made her cheeks burn.

“Come, have something nice to drink.” The princess lifted a bottle of wine she’d brought. “This is jade nectar reserved for our imperial family—made with ‘Concubine’s Laughs’ picked in May, enhanced with the ‘Immortal Tribute’ from July. Both fruit and wine flavors are exquisitely preserved. Besides what’s gifted to your emperor, this is all that remains.”

Ning Fu had never been fond of alcohol. Noble ladies of Yan rarely drank. But having lived two lifetimes, her views had shifted—why not experience a bit more?

She gladly accepted. “Then I shall thank Your Highness.”

The wine was exceptional. At first sip, it was like fresh lychee nectar—sweet and spring-like. Then came a subtle alcohol warmth, tingling the senses with bold satisfaction. She’d never tasted anything like it. She drank three cups in a row.

Greedy for flavor and lacking experience, Ning Fu became intoxicated without realizing it. The princess, carefree by nature and even less restrained when drunk, quickly passed out without a care in the world.

While the two enjoyed their mountaintop retreat, those below were panicking. By dusk, attendants discovered that the princess and Ning Fu were missing. They went pale and rushed to report.

A missing princess couldn’t be publicly declared. Emperor Jingwen quietly dispatched several young lords to search.

Upon hearing that Ning Fu was missing as well, Ning Yu grew deeply concerned.

The Sixth Prince tried to reassure him. “Fourth Miss doesn’t strike me as reckless. And the princess knows some martial arts. They should be safe—perhaps just lost their way.”

Ning Yu thanked him, though he remained anxious.

After a brief discussion, the group split up to search.

Zong Si and Lu Xingzhi headed up the mountain. The latter’s concern rivaled Ning Yu’s.

Soon, the path split in two. One led left, the other right. Zong Si was about to head right when Lu Xingzhi said, “If danger arises… I ask that you rescue Fourth Miss Ning first.”

A bold request—nearly irreverent.

Zong Si’s eyelids lifted, but he gave no reply.

After a tea’s worth of silence, Lu Xingzhi spoke again. “If you agree, I’ll serve as your strategist. This is for your sake, and you’ll not regret it.”

Trading his future for a woman—it was hardly rational.

Zong Si glanced at him. Still, it was an offer handed to him—no reason to reject it.

They proceeded several hundred paces. At the mountaintop, the sunlit trees grew denser, and the paths harder to track. Their movement startled birds and animals; mountain birds cried out, and the princess’s horse began to whinny restlessly.

Zong Si listened, then headed toward the source of the horse’s agitation.

When Zong Si found Ning Fu and the princess, the two of them were curled together on a blanket, asleep from the cold. Nearby, wine jars and pastries lay scattered at the edges of the cloth—disorderly, but they weren’t in real danger.

Alone, Zong Si couldn’t carry two drunkards back. He was about to leave to find help when a soft, dazed voice called out: “Husband…”

He turned to see Ning Fu slowly sitting up. Her hair ornaments were disheveled, and her face bore the faint imprint of sleep—but even so, it did nothing to lessen her beauty.

Zong Si hesitated, then stepped forward with a firestarter in hand.

The wine still clouded her senses; her eyes were glazed and glimmering with tears. So young, yet her gaze seemed to carry countless sorrows.

“Who taught you archery?” he asked slowly, fixing his gaze on her. Now was as good a time as any to ask—though if not for this, he wouldn’t have approached her at all.

“You did,” Ning Fu replied after looking at him for a moment, her voice quiet.

“And why would I teach you?” he pressed gently, guiding her to speak further.

Ning Fu bit her lip. “Because you couldn’t resist temptation… You wanted to sleep with me.”

Zong Si: “……”

“I never really wanted to learn riding or archery. I just wanted an excuse to spend more time with you.” She reached out and tugged his sleeve, her words spilling out in wounded honesty. “You always ignore me after we share a bed.”

Zong Si rubbed his brow and pulled back his sleeve, severing the contact.

That unfeeling motion jolted Ning Fu from her fogged state, restoring a fragment of clarity. Her voice was like mist in the wind—fragile, almost inaudible. “If I died… I suppose you’d be happy.”