Zong Duo was visibly uncomfortable under questioning. He had never been teased about romantic matters before and clearly wasn’t used to it. Though his face remained expressionless, that only made it harder to tell.

“I’m not the kind of man who lets beauty distract from duty. Rest assured,” he said solemnly, sitting up straight.

Zong Ning saw how serious he was and had no choice but to stop teasing him—though inwardly, she still found him impossibly dull.

Zong Si had noticed his encounter with Ning Fu earlier but said nothing. Whatever tricks Fourth Miss Ning might possess, they weren’t enough to warrant his concern.

For the evening’s bonfire banquet, the young ladies had changed clothes early. Though less extravagant than their usual finery, their outfits were thoughtfully chosen, each with its own flair.

Ning Fu wore a pale, figure-hugging dress with simple hair ornaments—so plain it couldn’t be plainer.

“All the top bachelors in the capital are here, and you choose to dress like this?” Wei Ziyi eyed her curiously.

Though Ning Fu was naturally beautiful, in this outfit, she could easily be overlooked in the crowd. That was exactly her intention.

In her previous life, before her engagement, she’d attracted unwanted attention—like from the Sixth Prince in the imperial city. Had it not been for her betrothal to Zong Si, she might have been forced to marry the prince as a concubine.

Of the princes present this time, only the Sixth Prince was in the capital, and he’d be attending the autumn hunt. Ning Fu wanted no part of his attention.

“Sister Wei, I’m here to train in riding and archery, not to pick a husband,” she said with a cheerful smile.

“That’s fair. Being too noticeable isn’t always a good thing,” Wei Ziyi replied. “I have to prepare for the dance soon. I’ll come find you when I’m free.”

The women of the Wei family were known for their musical and dance talents. Master Wei worked in the Ministry of Rites, handling ceremonies and state events. Whenever foreign guests visited, it was the Wei household that choreographed the performances, and this time Wei Ziyi was in charge.

Ning Fu nodded.

The banquet began at You hour. Noble ladies from the capital dazzled in their appearance, each as radiant and distinctive as a blooming flower. Graceful and pure like a lotus—Xie Ruyi; lively and free-spirited like a hibiscus—Zong Ning; proud and gorgeous like an orchid—Fu Jiaying.

So many beauties competing—it was dazzling. As soon as the young ladies appeared, they stirred no small excitement among the unmarried men.

Ning Yu spent some time searching before finally spotting his sister.

“Big Brother,” someone tugged his sleeve. He looked down—who else could it be but his own sister in a pale dress? Though she was still strikingly beautiful, her outfit was so understated that she looked almost like a servant girl unless someone paid special attention.

“Big Brother, may I borrow a horse tomorrow?” Ning Fu asked, settling beside him.

She only wanted to earn the title of a “gifted lady.” Jilin Mountain’s terrain was treacherous and complex—if she could train effectively there, she would surely excel in the upcoming archery and riding exams.

“You’re not strong in horseback riding. It’s dangerous here,” Ning Yu said disapprovingly.

Ning Fu glanced across the way. Lu Xingzhi sat upright, looking directly at her. His gaze was intent—tinged with emotion, as if he were seeing something he’d lost and found again. She gave him a radiant smile, and for a moment, Lu Xingzhi was stunned. He quickly averted his gaze. Though his expression remained composed, the tips of his ears seemed slightly flushed.

Ning Fu considered for a moment and said, “I’d like to take this opportunity to learn. Brother, when you have a moment, would you ask Young Master Lu if he’d be willing to teach me horseback riding?”

Ning Yu was a civil official and not skilled in martial arts, so among the young masters present, Lu Xingzhi was the most convenient choice. First, he was upright—nothing like those lecherous men who preyed on women—and second, his reputation in riding and archery was quite impressive.

Besides, Ning Fu didn’t mind getting closer to him.

Ning Yu’s thoughts were rather mixed. “Young Master Lu actually asked me about that earlier today,” he said. “He said that if you have any questions, you’re welcome to seek his guidance.”

Ning Fu had worried someone else might have reserved his attention—after all, while the Lu family wasn’t prominent among noble clans in the capital, Lu Xingzhi was still quite popular among the young ladies. Hearing Ning Yu’s reply, she was relieved.

Later, Emperor Jingwen and the Northern Qi Princess made their appearance.

The Emperor was already past fifty, yet his hair showed no signs of greying. He was spirited and energetic, his imperial presence as awe-inspiring as a mountain—commanding respect like a deity.

The Princess had striking features, distinctly different from Han women. She was a rare beauty.

Accompanying them were Zong Si and the Sixth Prince; they were cousins. The Sixth Prince’s mother, Consort Yun, was the sister of Prince Xuan and was currently in high favor.

Aside from the princes, only Zong Si had the privilege of appearing alongside the Emperor in such a setting. The rumor that Prince Xuan was the Emperor’s most valued relative clearly had substance.

“Your Majesty, the women of Great Yan are as beautiful as goddesses come down to earth—it’s dazzling,” the Northern Qi Princess said.

“The young men of Great Yan aren’t handsome then?” Emperor Jingwen joked.

“Well, I met the Heir and the Sixth Prince first. After seeing such unpolished gems, the rest—though charming—pale in comparison.”

As she spoke, her gaze drifted to Zong Si. He had personally welcomed her upon her arrival in the capital. From their first meeting, she’d felt that flowers lacked soul and jade lacked allure—while the Heir was like a plum blossom: elegant and aloof, with fragrance embedded in his bones.

“If you truly see my nephew as a gem,” the Emperor teased, “perhaps I should grant a marriage between you two.”

That suggestion made several people visibly uncomfortable.

Ning Fu had known the Princess intended to choose a husband, but she hadn’t expected her eyes to fall on Zong Si. Xie Ruyi’s face had already turned pale.

Ning Fu looked toward Zong Si, who remained utterly composed. Then she understood—Prince Xuan held military power. It would be impossible for his heir to marry a foreign princess as a consort. The Emperor was simply probing, testing Zong Si’s stance on marriage.

Though Emperor Jingwen trusted Prince Xuan, he also didn’t want his house to grow too powerful. Those in high places often preferred factional conflict among their subjects—not strong alliances.

“Your Majesty is truly willing to let the Heir become my consort?” The Princess took the jest seriously, eyes gleaming.

Emperor Jingwen’s smile remained warm. “That depends on the Heir himself—I wouldn’t dream of forcing him.”

The Princess turned to Zong Si with anticipation.

Zong Si replied respectfully, “Though the northern front has settled, true peace is still far off. My father has yet to return triumphant. I haven’t considered marriage for now.”

Ning Fu had already guessed he would invoke Prince Xuan to deflect the proposal. After all, Prince Xuan had recently led a victorious campaign and was still overseeing affairs in the north—an explanation the Emperor was obliged to honor. She glanced at Xie Ruyi and saw that her heart had settled again.

As for the Princess of Northern Qi, she remained cheerful and direct, showing no hint of disappointment. “Heir, if you get to know me better, you’ll see how good I truly am.”

“Your Highness is noble-born, naturally exceptional. But marriage is simply not my pursuit,” Zong Si replied, courteous yet unyielding.

Emperor Jingwen added, “Since the Heir is focused on national concerns, I won’t press him. But Great Yan has no shortage of outstanding men—I’ll be sure to find you a fine husband.”

With that, the festivities resumed—sword dances and music filled the air. The Northern Qi Princess performed a dazzling sword dance, bold and graceful, winning loud applause.

Ning Fu sat beside Ning Yu, practically invisible. Neither the Sixth Prince nor the sharp-eyed and often irksome Zong Si paid her any attention. But she couldn’t focus on the Princess’s performance.

A maid quietly approached her. “Fourth Miss Ning, Miss Wei is looking for you.”

Seeing the worry etched in the maid’s expression, Ning Fu knew something was wrong and quickly followed her.

Backstage, Wei Ziyi nearly burst into tears upon seeing her. Frantic, she said, “Ah Fu, what am I going to do?”

Ning Fu gently replied, “Sister Wei, take your time. Tell me everything.”

Wei Ziyi steadied herself and explained what had happened. The dance had already been choreographed, but in her pursuit of visual appeal, she’d overlooked a crucial detail. A dancer had just warned her that a particular segment—where the dancer’s body stretches dramatically across the floor—was considered ordinary in Great Yan but was taboo in Northern Qi. There, it was seen as a mocking reference to the royal family’s indulgence and moral decadence. If this section were performed in front of the Northern Qi Princess, the diplomatic fallout could be disastrous—and it was a burden Wei Ziyi couldn’t possibly bear.

“This dance can’t be performed,” Ning Fu said calmly.

Wei Ziyi nodded. “I plan to switch to the waist dance. The dancers are most familiar with it, so there shouldn’t be any mistakes. It’s just that we’re short one performer.”

Ning Fu understood immediately. She did know the dance. But for a noblewoman to share the stage with hired performers was unbecoming, and if she were discovered, it could damage her reputation and tarnish the Duke’s household. Still, Wei Ziyi was set to marry into the Ning family. If something happened to her, it would reflect badly on them all.

Ning Fu weighed the consequences carefully. Wei Ziyi had always treated her with sincerity. If not for desperation, she wouldn’t have asked this of her.

“Sister Wei, only you and I know about this. If anyone asks, say I felt unwell and am resting in your tent,” Ning Fu said.

Wei Ziyi nodded, then instructed a maid, “Change into Ah Fu’s clothing and lie down in my tent. If anyone comes in, don’t speak—just pretend to be asleep.”

Behind the screen, Ning Fu quickly changed into the dance costume. It was designed to accentuate the dancer’s figure. When she emerged, Wei Ziyi blushed at the sight.

Led by Wei Ziyi, Ning Fu joined the dancers for a rehearsal. To keep her identity hidden, she wore a veil and said nothing. When the time came, she stepped onstage with the others. Though she wasn’t in the center, she felt countless gazes—some deliberate, some fleeting—fall on her.

She glanced at Lu Xingzhi. He was frowning. Then at Zong Si. Their eyes met. He looked toward the spot beside Ning Yu, now conspicuously empty.

A chill crept through Ning Fu. But there was no time to dwell. As music swelled, she moved in rhythm, elegant as a pear blossom, her waist soft as silk. When she raised her sleeves and twisted her hips, no one could rival her allure.

Beauty draws attention—and many young men had already let their eyes wander toward her.

Midway through the dance, she switched places with another dancer—landing directly before Zong Si.

To sway her hips in front of him made her feel a touch embarrassed. Even in their most intimate moments, she had never teased him so provocatively.

Zong Si’s gaze lingered on her waist. Then, with quiet poise, he raised his cup and watched her as he drank—eyes tracing that same curve again and again.

Ning Fu, hidden behind her veil, masked her unease. That dance felt like an eternity. When it ended, she rushed to leave—only to catch the Sixth Prince, Meng Ze, staring blatantly at her, his gaze boldly fixed on her chest. He was the one she least wanted to cross paths with. The closer a man stood to power, the more dangerous he became. In her previous life, she had suffered under him—looked down upon, yet coerced into becoming a concubine.

Ning Fu walked away swiftly.

“These dancers from the Ministry of Rites are rather… intriguing,” the Sixth Prince murmured, his eyes still trailing the performers’ departing silhouettes.

Zong Si ran his fingers along the rim of his cup. Silent.