Zong Si was dressed today in a black silk robe adorned with emerald bamboo patterns. Though he had reined in his usual aura, it still felt oppressively powerful. The white jade pendant he often wore at his waist had been replaced by a clasped embroidery pouch—skillfully made, though its maker was unknown.

Having just endured the embarrassment of a failed marriage proposal, Ning Fu only wished to avoid him altogether. Yet, etiquette forced her to give him a reluctant salute.

Zong Si glanced at her sideways, no different than how he’d look at Ning Ran or any woman who had once admired him, then quickly disappeared into the inner quarters.

As Ning Fu passed him, she thought she caught a whiff of blood. A startled pause—was he wounded?

“The heir never misses Young Miss Ning’s birthday, no matter how busy he is,” said Uncle Song, the steward who led Ning Fu inside.

She guessed then that Zong Si had returned to celebrate Zong Ning’s birthday.

Princess Consort Xuan’s only daughter was deeply cherished—she truly lived like the moon surrounded by stars. Even Emperor Jingwen would think of her when offering good things.

Ning Fu had arrived late to the celebration. The other noble ladies were already gathered, sipping tea and sampling pastries.

Zong Ning’s social pull meant no household in the capital dared decline the invitation. Even more attended than during the Grand Flower Festival, it was bustling with life.

Seated beside Xie Ruyi, Zong Ning was cutting paper window decorations. Younger girls surrounded them—all relatives from the Princess’s side, hinting at how much Zong Ning valued Xie Ruyi.

“Happy birthday, Sister Ning. May every year bring you joy, and all things go your way,” Ning Fu greeted.

But Zong Ning’s response was lukewarm and distant. Her gaze was complicated. “Thank you,” she replied curtly—no “Elder Sister Ning” today.

Ning Fu instantly grasped the shift. Zong Ning had likely learned about the matchmaking discussions between their families at Hanxiang Temple. And she had clearly sided with Xie Ruyi, viewing Ning Fu as someone interfering between Ruyi and Zong Si, hence the cold shoulder.

Though Ning Fu felt a flare of indignation—this had nothing to do with her—she didn’t blame her grandmother either. While the old matron hadn’t prioritized her in the proposal, she did genuinely care in daily life. And as head of the house, she had to consider the entire Ning estate.

From her grandmother’s point of view, marrying into Prince Xuan’s family could benefit them—but only if Zong Si’s heart could be won. Otherwise, it was all for naught.

“Sister Xie, I gave the pouch you made me to my third brother,” Zong Ning said with a sweet smile. “When will you make me another?”

Ning Fu recalled seeing Zong Si wearing a pouch earlier—it was one of Ruyi’s works. Naturally, she wasn’t naïve. Zong Ning’s words were meant for her—a not-so-subtle warning. Anyone with a shred of sense wouldn’t intrude on a pair raised side by side.

Ning Fu felt unfairly judged. Heaven knew she had her heart set on someone else—she had never pursued Zong Si. He wasn’t even that ideal a candidate for a husband.

“As long as you want one, I’ll make another. Did you tell the heir I made it?” Xie Ruyi asked.

Zong Ning hadn’t told him the truth—she’d claimed it was her own handiwork. But in front of Ning Fu, she couldn’t admit it. “I did,” she lied.

Xie Ruyi’s ears flushed red. “What kind of style would you like this time?” she asked.

Zong Ning detailed all her preferences, one by one.

Xie Ruyi took careful note, then turned warmly to Ning Fu. “You must be tired from standing, Sister Ning. Have a seat.”

Ning Fu’s opinion of Xie Ruyi rose once more. No matter the situation or the strength of their rapport, Ruyi rarely excluded anyone. As for Zong Ning, her future sister-in-law, though her temperament was blunt, her intentions weren’t malicious. Ning Fu didn’t mind letting it go. Besides, Zong Ning wasn’t someone one could afford to offend lightly.

Looking around, Ning Fu’s gaze finally landed on Fu Jiahui, the merchant’s daughter.

In her past life, Fu Jiahui and Ning Fu’s brother had faced many trials. Their engagement had finally been arranged—only for her brother to pass away before the wedding. Fu Jiahui, unwilling to marry anyone else, took her own life. This time, Ning Fu hoped they could be together for a lifetime, safe and well.

The Fu family had now gained quite a reputation. When one spoke of wealthy families in the capital, the Fu name came to mind. From silks, jade, and tea used by palace nobles, to cloth and tea houses frequented by commoners, the Fu family had a hand in nearly every trade. Yet the Great Yan Dynasty valued agriculture and suppressed commerce. Merchants, no matter how rich, still couldn’t earn the respect of court officials.

Fu Jiahui had received an invitation to Prince Xuan’s estate today for two reasons: her exceptional talent, which was genuinely admired, and the prince’s benefit from the Fu family’s financial support for military provisions. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.

As for Ning Fu, she had her own plans for coming today. She had tested the waters with two shops, and even those, Madam Ning refused to grant her. Asking for more was futile. Still, Ning Fu hadn’t given up on business.

The Duke Ning estate had many financial demands—not just due to her aunt’s poor management, but also for her brother’s future needs. She had business ideas. Now, she needed someone to help bring them to life—and Fu Jiahui was the ideal partner.

“Sister Fu,” Ning Fu said, settling beside her.

“Fourth Miss,” Fu Jiahui replied. They hadn’t interacted much before, so she was a bit surprised. But she quickly composed herself and offered a gentle smile.

Thanks to Ning Zheng, Fu Jiahui actually hoped to get closer to Ning Fu.

Ning Fu sat quietly beside Fu Jiahui for a while, when suddenly a man in armor approached Zong Ning. At the sight of him, Zong Ning’s face lit up with joy, and she called out excitedly, “Big Brother!”

This was Zong Ting, son of Zong Sheng, Prince Xuan’s older brother. He was already past thirty. Prince Xuan and General Zong Sheng were close as siblings, so the younger generation was also tightly knit. Zong Ting had come back especially for Zong Ning’s birthday.

Ning Fu thought for a moment and said to Fu Jiahui, “Sister Ning’s brothers truly dote on her.”

Fu Jiahui, thinking of Ning Zheng, stirred inwardly. “Your brother treats you well, too, doesn’t he?”

Ning Fu knew that Fu Jiahui liked her brother—she had brought up the topic intentionally. “Of course he’s wonderful, though it’s rare to see him these days.”

“When will Young Master Ning return to the capital?” Fu Jiahui asked.

“Likely sometime next year.” Ning Fu deliberately let that slip, worried her future sister-in-law might be getting impatient—or that someone else might snatch him up first.

Fu Jiahui wanted to ask more, but she felt she had no standing. After all, she had kissed Ning Zheng two years ago and scared him off. She still had no idea what he thought of her.

Besides, Madam Ning might not accept a merchant’s daughter so easily. Fu Jiahui didn’t yet have a countermeasure for that.

“When your brother returns, he should be thinking about marriage,” she teased, though her heart felt somewhat empty.

Ning Fu gently replied, “Mother mentioned it in a letter, but my brother declined. I suspect he already has someone in mind.”

That eased Fu Jiahui’s worries somewhat. Before Ning Zheng left the capital, there had been no women around him, and at the borderlands, it was all military men—so if he had someone in his heart, it could only be her.

“Sister Fu,” Ning Fu said at last, “there’s actually a rather forward request I’d like to make today.”

“You may speak freely, Fourth Miss,” said Fu Jiahui.

Ning Fu hesitated briefly, then lowered her voice. “I have a few beauty remedies—rare in ingredients, but not costly overall. I’d like to open a few shops.”

One of those remedies was the scar-removal formula she’d previously recommended to Princess Consort Xuan.

“You’d like to operate under the Fu family name—I can help,” Fu Jiahui said, quickly understanding her intent. “But we need to settle three things first.”

“First, from what you’ve described, your target customers are noble ladies of the capital. If anything goes wrong, the Fu family can’t take the blame—so I must personally verify the safety of the formulas. That means you’ll need to share them with me, which poses a risk of disclosure. See if you’re willing to accept that. Second, we’ll need to agree on how profits are split. Third, if the shops fail, who bears the losses?”

“I trust you, Sister Fu. Of course, you can verify the formulas. Let’s split evenly—fifty-fifty,” Ning Fu replied earnestly. “I’ll bear any initial losses. But I ask that you not reveal we’re partners.”

Fu Jiahui smiled. “Then it’ll be forty-sixty. You forty, I sixty.”

Ning Fu frowned.

“Otherwise, no deal.”

“…”

“Sister Ning, that’s how business works. You need me more than I need you—so I’ve every right to name my terms. If you’re unwilling, I won’t press.” Fu Jiahui handed her a cup of tea.

Ning Fu thought for a while. At present, her leverage was limited. But that wouldn’t always be the case—future rounds of negotiation would come. So she nodded. “Then sixty-forty.”

The finer details couldn’t be settled that day, so they arranged to meet again.

After parting ways, Ning Fu remained to watch the opera invited by Prince Xuan’s household—an honor even the Emperor acknowledged. The palace troupe performed Dream of the Garden Stroll, telling the tale of a scholar who, after failing his exams, wanders into a peach blossom paradise. The singing was hauntingly graceful—heavenly, even—and drew listeners in completely.

As the performance ended, Ning Fu couldn’t help but sigh, “The palace troupe truly is extraordinary… absolutely captivating.”

“What did you hear in it?” Xie Ruyi turned and asked.

Ning Fu replied, “That verse by Lu You fits perfectly—’Mountains and rivers seem to block the way, then through willows and blossoms, a village appears.’ A dead end isn’t always truly the end.”

Rong Min scoffed and muttered, “Quoting someone else—how is that a personal insight?”

Ning Fu sighed quietly. Among the noble ladies of the capital, factions and discord weren’t uncommon. But most kept up polite appearances. Only this Rong family girl spoke sharply to everyone except Zong Ning and Xie Ruyi—who knows how many she’d secretly offended?

Xie Ruyi tried to smooth things over. “Sister Rong is certainly skilled at composing her own poetry, but being able to cite classics is a talent too.”

Ning Fu offered Xie Ruyi a sweet smile.

Rong Min, loyal to Ruyi’s lead, didn’t speak further.

—

Zong Si didn’t appear until just before the banquet. He’d only just returned, still travel-worn. Yet Prince Xuan’s third son looked no less distinguished. Now dressed in a smoke-blue round-collared robe with subtle embroidery, his aura was cold but alluring—like plum blossoms in winter. Those deep-set eyes could make any woman lose herself.

He was drawing more attention than Zong Ning herself, the birthday girl. Ning Fu couldn’t help but wonder if many young ladies had come today just to catch a glimpse of him.

“Third Brother!” Zong Ning greeted him with more joy than she’d shown for any other sibling. Patting his shoulder, she asked, “Finished your business?”

“Mm.” Zong Si frowned slightly, then returned to his usual demeanor. “Your birthday gift has been sent to your room. These sweets—share them with the other guests.”

“Thank you, Heir!” a few noble ladies chimed in, seizing the opportunity to speak with him.

Ning Fu quietly suspected his injury was near the shoulder.

According to Ning Yu, Lu Xingzhi had traveled with him a few days ago. She wondered if Lu Xingzhi had come to any harm. She was worried but too embarrassed to ask Zong Si directly. With Ning Yu currently absent, she had no way to learn about Lu Xingzhi’s condition—so she decided to ask Xie Ruyi to inquire on her behalf.

Zong Ning probably wouldn’t speak to her, and she didn’t want to seem overeager. Besides, Ning Fu didn’t mind letting Xie Ruyi see who her thoughts truly lingered on—it might help avoid any misunderstandings.

Xie Ruyi wasn’t one to gossip, and asking about an injury wasn’t improper or unladylike.

Ruyi studied her for a moment. Though Zong Si had rejected Ning Fu, hearing her mention Lu Xingzhi oddly put Ruyi’s heart at ease. Perhaps it was because Ning Fu was simply too beautiful. What man wouldn’t be drawn to such grace?

She might not be fit to become the official wife in Prince Xuan’s household—but as a concubine? If the Ning estate declined in the coming years, Fourth Miss Ning could still enter as a favored companion. And who wouldn’t dote on a concubine like that?

“Don’t worry. I’ll ask him for you,” Xie Ruyi said.

Zong Si’s injury wasn’t life-threatening, but he would need time to recuperate and had no plans to linger. Truth be told, the sword wound was deliberate—an excuse to step back and avoid getting entangled in the palace’s current political turmoil. As he prepared to leave, Xie Ruyi stepped in to block his path.

“Blessings to the Heir,” she greeted him softly.

Though Zong Si had little patience for company, he managed some civility toward Xie Ruyi. “What is it, Miss Xie?”

“Ning Fu asked me to inquire—did Young Master Lu also sustain injuries?” Xie Ruyi didn’t hide Ning Fu’s concern for Lu Xingzhi, as she had motives of her own.

To Zong Si’s ears, the question held deeper meaning. Ning Fu must have sensed his own injury and naturally wondered if Lu Xingzhi had been hurt as well. Fourth Miss Ning had tact—she asked nothing about Zong Si himself. Still, he had no intention of playing go-between for their affections.

“Xingzhi is unharmed,” Zong Si replied coolly before departing.

Xie Ruyi wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but the Heir seemed slightly displeased.

Upon hearing that Lu Xingzhi was safe, Ning Fu could finally breathe easy. “Thank you, Sister Xie,” she said gratefully.

“I need to help Ah Ning receive the guests. If you find yourself bored, feel free to wander—the banquet will conclude soon,” Xie Ruyi told her.

The atmosphere had become too noisy and stifling, so Ning Fu slipped away from the crowd to get some air.

The estate was full of visitors, and the servants were swamped. One young maid, no older than fifteen, tripped and fell right in front of Ning Fu, her face going pale with fear. “Please forgive me, Miss!”

Ning Fu crouched beside her, gently helped her up, and asked softly if she was hurt.

“You’re from Second Young Master’s quarters?” Ning Fu asked, vaguely recognizing her.

“Yes,” the girl replied timidly. “My name is Fuxin.”

Zong Duo happened to be nearby and overheard the exchange. He usually disliked women prying into his affairs, but Ning Fu’s familiarity with his servants didn’t bother him. In fact, he found her kindness toward the maid rather admirable—it spoke of a gentle heart. Perhaps there was some calculation behind it. But even so, having foresight wasn’t a flaw.

Not long ago, Zong Si had formally rejected marriage with Ning Fu. Upon hearing this, Zong Duo secretly felt relieved. As the heir to Prince Xuan’s household, Zong Si could never realistically marry into the Duke of Ning’s family. But for Zong Duo—if he truly wanted to—perhaps there was still a chance.