“I’ve never had such contact with Fourth Miss Ning,” Zong Si replied calmly.

Master Guanyang didn’t doubt him—if there had truly been something between Zong Si and Fourth Miss Ning, Duke Ning’s household would’ve come knocking long ago to demand an explanation.

“What an intriguing matter,” Guanyang said, though he couldn’t make sense of it either.

Zong Si remained unfazed. “If something has happened, it’s no more than deliberate design—just a matter of superior skill.”

As long as he uncovered the intent behind it, the reason Ning Fu had developed such archery techniques would surface naturally.

Ning Fu had only been seated back in the academy for the length of a tea when Zong Ning returned from her own exam.

“Sister Ning, you performed so well today!” Zong Ning greeted her—a rare show of enthusiasm. She’d heard rumors of Ning Fu’s impressive sparring match with the princess during the hunt, but hadn’t believed them. Now, seeing it for herself, she was thoroughly convinced—among noble ladies, none could match her skill with a bow.

“I wonder if I could ask you for a small favor?” Ning Fu said.

“Depends if I can actually do it,” Zong Ning answered playfully, batting her eyes.

“At the hunt, I drank too much with the princess and may have inadvertently offended the Heir. I truly didn’t mean to—could I trouble you to pass on my apology to him?” Ning Fu asked sincerely.

Zong Ning couldn’t help but laugh. “Sister Ning, my third brother isn’t the sort to hold grudges—don’t worry.”

Ning Fu thought privately: that’s only because you’re the sister he dotes on. If someone else had done it, Zong Si wouldn’t be so gracious.

“Please be sure to tell him,” she urged again.

Zong Ning agreed, then whispered mischievously, “Sister Ning… are you a little afraid of my third brother?”

Ning Fu wasn’t scared of him—she was just caught under his thumb. But she answered diplomatically, “The Heir is bold and valiant—he’s someone you can’t help but respect.”

She had been waiting specifically for Zong Ning. With the task entrusted, she now planned to return home.

Outside the academy, the grounds were still bustling. When she glanced toward the field, this time she spotted Zong Si from afar—introducing Xie Ruyi to Master Guanyang.

A noble gentleman like flawless jade, tall and striking, and a lady, graceful as an orchid, with delicate brows and gentle posture. Standing together, they seemed destined to be paired—like a phoenix meeting its mate.

“I heard Second Miss Xie performed exceptionally,” one of the passing coachmen commented.

Ning Fu knew the truth even better than that. Though Xie Ruyi’s horseback archery couldn’t compare to her mastery in music and rites, in Ning Fu’s past life, she’d still placed first among noble ladies in this very archery exam. She was diligent and bright—her achievements well deserved. Ning Fu saw her as a role model.

On the way home, Zong Ning began bargaining with Zong Si. “Third Brother, if I get top marks in archery this time, will you give me Gale?”

Gale was the blood-sweat stallion Zong Si had captured in last year’s northern campaign with Prince Xuan. Fierce and wild by nature, it had taken great effort to tame.

Zong Si gave a dry laugh. “Never seen anyone ask for so much with such a straight face.”

Which meant: he’d agreed. Zong Ning beamed with satisfaction, then remembered Ning Fu. “Sister Ning asked me to relay her apologies. If she offended you during the autumn hunt, please forgive her.”

Zong Si didn’t reply. He’d never intended to make an issue of it—Fourth Miss Ning had crossed the line more than once.

Zong Ning leaned closer, eyes gleaming. “I’ve grown fond of Sister Ning lately. Why not introduce her to Second Brother?”

Zong Si frowned. “You’re not even of age, and this is what’s always on your mind?”

Zong Ning knew she’d overstepped and sensibly fell silent. But deep down, she still felt her second brother might not be indifferent to Ning Fu.

After all, when she chatted with maids about Ning Fu’s sparring match at the hunt, Second Brother had unusually stayed to hear the whole tale before leaving. That was rare—he usually showed no interest in women’s affairs whatsoever.

—

That night, Zong Si had a strange dream.

In it, a woman lived in Jinghua Residence. He never entered, yet somehow knew her habits—reading quietly at the door, crafting small ornaments, tending the garden. She wasn’t close to him, yet not unfamiliar either. She boldly claimed the space as hers, placing little trinkets throughout the courtyard until the once-pristine Jinghua Residence was no longer recognizable. But he never grew angry. Instead, he gave up his bedchamber and slept in the study.

One day, she opened the study door, holding a bow—none other than “Zhuoyao,” once used by the great General Shentu of the former dynasty—a treasure all men coveted.

The woman was stunning: porcelain skin, peach-blossom beauty, soulful eyes. Clearly, it was a more mature Ning Fu.

She spoke sweetly: “Many men asked me for Zhuoyao before I married. But it’s part of my dowry—I’ll only give it to my husband.”

He watched her in silence, eyes flickering.

“But it’s not without conditions,” she said, blushing and refusing to meet his gaze. She bit her lip. “We’ve been married three months now. Husband—I don’t want to sleep alone anymore.”

A bold, unambiguous invitation—yet delivered with such bashful charm that not even the hardest heart could resist. Especially when her words made it clear: he was her one and only.

…

Zong Si woke up, pressing a hand to his temple. The night was cold, but a simmering heat stirred in his abdomen.

The dream had been so absurd that, days later, when Zong Si heard Ning Fu’s name from Princess Consort Xuan, his hand holding the teacup paused—barely perceptible.

“I heard Fourth Miss Ning took first place in the archery exam,” Princess Xuan said, a trace of disbelief lacing her tone.

Zong Si, however, showed no surprise. He’d already learned of the results the day before: Second place went to Xie Ruyi, and third to Zong Ning. Only the three of them received top marks.

Princess Consort Xuan added, worried, “Old Madam Ning invited me to Hanxiang Temple tomorrow to pray. I wonder if her intention is what I suspect.”

The thought gave her a headache. While every house hoped to marry their daughters well, aiming so boldly at the Prince’s household could only mean Duke Ning’s manor had been underestimated.

Zong Si, without lifting his head, replied calmly, “Mother, just decline as you see fit.”

“The palace keeps an eye on you—your marriage isn’t likely to be settled anytime soon. Why not arrange for two concubines for now?” Princess Consort Xuan suggested. At his age, it wasn’t ideal to remain without company.

But Zong Si dismissed the notion. “I’ll be heading to the North after the New Year. There’s no need for you to worry about this.”

With the political landscape so tense, he had no energy to spare on affairs of the heart.

His answer left Princess Cosnort Xuan unable to persuade him further. She knew her son wasn’t one to indulge in women, and could only drop the matter.

—

Back at Duke Ning Manor, joy surged through the household at Ning Fu’s stunning archery victory. Even Ning Fu herself hadn’t expected such a result—her painfully swollen wrist for the past half month had proven worthwhile.

Madam Ning was so thrilled that she gave rewards to all the servants in her courtyard, sent letters to Ning Zhenyuan, Ning Zheng, and even Princess Kangyang, eager to share the news far and wide.

Old Madam Ning, too, was radiant with joy, her entire demeanor refreshed, as if she’d grown years younger.

“How should we arrange the banquet?” she asked, clearly wanting to make the celebration known.

Madam Ning chuckled, “There’s no need to rush. After the New Year, there’ll be the imperial and musical exams. We don’t want others thinking our manor lacks composure.”

“That’s true. With the manor’s tight finances this year, avoiding extravagance might be wise.” Old Madam Ning sighed, then added, “Madam Wei is rather mediocre when it comes to managing money. I think you should help her.”

“Old Madam, I know nothing of such matters. Let my sister-in-law keep handling it,” Madam Ning replied warmly, avoiding even the slightest criticism of the main branch.

Ning Fu couldn’t help but wonder if her grandmother’s probing was because Aunt Wei was struggling to manage the household.

In earlier years, Aunt Wei had been unwilling to relinquish control over household affairs, and with Grandmother clearly biased in her favor, Ning Fu’s mother had gained nothing from it.

Since Madam Ning refused, Old Madam Ning had no grounds to push further.

Back at Bamboo Courtyard, Ning Fu said to her mother, “Mother, helping Aunt Wei manage the Duke Manor isn’t necessarily a bad idea.”

For one, Ning Fu couldn’t stand seeing the manor fall into decline under Aunt Wei’s hands. For another, money meant power. Her father was merely the second legitimate son of the manor; no matter how high his rank outside, inside the household, he still bowed to his elder brother. While things were fine now, sibling bonds didn’t always last forever. If her mother managed the manor instead, the main branch would have to weigh consequences in every situation.

Madam Ning replied, “Of course it’s not impossible—but not now. At present, your aunt is not willing to loosen her grip on authority.”

She wasn’t one to take on exhausting, thankless work. It would be better to wait until Madam Wei came seeking her help; then they’d have leverage.

Ning Fu pondered this. Aunt Wei was proud and rarely admitted her faults, which had likely led to the financial strain the manor now faced. Though Ning Fu had once considered intervening early, now seemed a perfect opportunity to make her aunt bow her head. But that meant preparing funds in advance to tide the manor over this crisis.

Naturally, Ning Fu wouldn’t touch her mother’s savings. She’d have to find a way to earn it herself.

—

Early next morning, Old Madam Ning and Madam Wei went to Hanxiang Temple to pray, taking Ning Fu along.

Autumn was drawing to a close. Crimson maple leaves had already fallen in great swaths, carpeting the winding path. The lake beside the mountain shimmered quietly, vast and tranquil.

Upon encountering Princess Consort Xuan, Ning Fu paused, then greeted her with a respectful, “Blessings, Princess Consort.”

Princess Consort Xuan instantly recalled Ning Fu’s scar remedy from last time—it had proven effective, just as she’d promised. Yet worried Old Madam Ning might think she was cozying up to Ning Fu, she didn’t offer thanks.

“Madam, what business did you ask me here for?” she asked directly.

“Ning Fu, your grandmother and Princess Consort will be going inside to pray,” Old Madam Ning instructed. “You wait in the temple and don’t wander off.”

Ning Fu nodded, but her heart was unsettled. She suspected her grandmother’s purpose clearly, and as for the outcome—well, she already knew. With nothing better to do, she offered her prayers at the temple and requested a love divination stick. It was a fortunate lot—saying fate would cross even a thousand miles—but who her destined person was remained unknown.

While tying the prayer stick, she mused: could it mean her future husband wasn’t a man of Great Yan? She wasn’t fond of the idea of marrying far from home.

Just as she was thinking this, a voice called out, “Sister Ning!”

She turned and saw none other than Zong Ning, accompanied by Xie Ruyi.

“Sister Ning, Sister Ruyi,” she greeted.

“I came with Sister Xie and my mother to pray. I didn’t expect to see you here! What sort of lot did you draw?” Zong Ning asked with curiosity.

Xie Ruyi glanced at the love divination in her hand. Ning Fu flushed, realizing she hadn’t even come of age yet.

Zong Ning giggled. “I asked Master to draw one for Sister Ruyi, too. He said hers was a one-in-a-million match—a perfect union, fated and blessed.”

Ning Fu replied sincerely, “Sister Xie is a gem. Any man lucky enough to marry her is truly blessed.” She was good enough—whoever she married would be fortunate indeed.

Zong Ning’s smile took on a slightly meaningful edge. She knew that the love divination Xie Ruyi received had matched her with Zong Si, though with Ning Fu present, she dared not tease.

“Congratulations on placing first in archery this time,” Xie Ruyi offered warmly.

Ning Fu replied, somewhat bashfully, “I never expected to win.”

The three ladies chatted idly for a while until Ning Fu saw Old Madam Ning, Madam Wei, and Princess Consort Xuan emerge from the rear courtyard. She rose and took her leave.

On the carriage ride home, the mood was heavier than when they arrived.

Ning Fu asked no questions and simply buried herself in her book.

Back at the Duke Manor, she greeted Old Madam Ning sweetly before returning to the Bamboo Courtyard.

Only after she’d gone did Madam Wei speak up to soothe the old madam. “Old Madam, don’t let yourself get so worked up.”

Old Madam Ning fumed, “Did you see that lofty attitude of hers? I merely discussed things with her, and it felt as though I’d presented Ah Fu like some offering for her to trample.”

“She’s beautiful, and now she’s the archery champion. There’s no shortage of eligible husbands in Great Yan who’d be honored to marry her. Let’s just rule out the Prince’s estate,” Madam Wei said flatly.

The old madam, proud as ever, now abandoned all thoughts of a marital tie with Prince Xuan’s household.

Madam Wei herself felt oddly satisfied. After all, if the Prince’s house had no regard for her daughter Ning Ran, they certainly wouldn’t fancy Ning Fu either. Not that Madam Wei disliked Ning Fu—it was human nature to resent someone who outshone one’s own child. A few days later, while visiting her daughter, she relayed the entire affair to Ning Ran.

“We made such a spectacle last time with Madam Liu (Madam Ning’s maiden surname), and now even her darling Ah Fu ended up like this,” Madam Wei commented with no small amount of delight.

Though she knew marrying into the Prince’s household would benefit the Duke Manor, Ning Ran found it hard to accept. That the man who overlooked her had turned his gaze toward her sister—well, it was a bitter pill. She felt both regret for the manor and relief for herself.

“So it was the heir’s own decision?” Ning Ran asked.

“According to the princess consort, the heir’s heart already belongs elsewhere,” Madam Wei confirmed.

“How miserable Ah Fu must be,” Ning Ran mused. “She liked the heir. Being rejected must’ve hit her hard.”

She’d sensed Ning Fu’s feelings for Zong Si ages ago but hadn’t taken it seriously. He wasn’t the type to fall for delicate girls. Though Ning Fu had grown into a stunning young woman, it still hadn’t won her a place in his heart.

“She must be hurting—she hasn’t shown herself these past few days,” Madam Wei said.

A girl approaching her coming-of-age ceremony couldn’t be entirely clueless. On that carriage ride, Ning Fu had been unusually quiet. And when someone like her was quiet, it meant she understood perfectly well.

—

In Bamboo Courtyard, Ning Fu listlessly recited verses from the Book of Songs.

After a while, Madam Ning came in and began gently combing her daughter’s hair. “Don’t dwell on such things. When it comes to marriage, men and women are both choosing each other. Being turned down—well, it’s normal.”

Madam Ning had already guessed Old Madam Ning’s reason for going to Hanxiang Temple. She simply went along with it, subtly helping extinguish her elder’s intentions.

What upset Ning Fu wasn’t the rejection by the Prince’s household—but the cold way they viewed her. In her past life, her mother had worked so hard to secure that marriage. How difficult that must’ve been.

“Mother… are you worried about my marriage too?” It was the first time Ning Fu had spoken to Madam Ning about this.

Madam Ning replied, “Of course, I’m anxious. But I’m even more afraid you won’t marry well. That’s why I’m not in a rush.”

Ning Fu lowered her gaze. “What kind of man do you hope for?”

“As long as he treats you well and is steady in character, I don’t care for flashy traits.” A prestigious background would be nice, but not essential. And since the topic had come up, Madam Ning shared openly, “I think Second Young Master Lu is quite good.”

If her mother thought he was good, then he must be.

After her archery results were announced, Ning Fu had intended to thank Lu Xingzhi. But he had been sent away on assignment by Zong Si immediately after the autumn hunt.

Half a month later, Ning Fu heard from Ning Yu that Lu Xingzhi had finally returned. She planned to gift him the famed bow Zhuoyao. Her archery skills, though mostly inherited from her past life and Zong Si’s guidance, had also been shaped by Lu Xingzhi’s careful instruction. She was sincerely grateful to him. And since she wanted to win him over, she didn’t mind giving something precious.

In her previous life, she had gifted Zhuoyao to Zong Si to coax him into consummating their marriage. That night, he’d performed exceptionally well—and after that, he always used that bow. So she knew full well Zhuoyao’s allure to men.

As for Zong Si seeing it again? It didn’t matter. There was no way he’d know it had once been her token of affection to him.