The scenery of Shanglin Garden was radiant, and the willows along the imperial canal dazzled the eyes, with flower branches blooming over the walls.

As Xuan Mingzhu rode through the horse grounds, she was enveloped in a subtle scent of perfume.

As she passed under low-hanging branches, she plucked a cuckoo flower and casually pinned it in her hair.

Hearing voices up ahead, with the sound of horse hooves and rising dust, she looked forward and saw two groups engaged in an intense game of polo.

Instantly smiling, she spurred her horse forward.

The imperial garden, except when closed off for the emperor’s hunting trips, often welcomed members of the royal family and aristocratic heirs for leisurely activities.

Due to the influence of Hu culture spreading eastward, society had become more open, and it was not uncommon to see young noblewomen in bright attire, riding horses with flair.

The young lords and ladies in the midst of their game saw a figure in red riding towards them from afar.

At first, they couldn’t recognize who it was.

But when Xuan Mingzhu reined in her horse and stopped before them, holding the reins with one hand and flicking a short deer-hide whip with the other in an exceedingly playful gesture, they realized who it was.

It was as if a secret signal had been given. Instantly, a young man in pale green riding gear leapt off his horse and rushed forward, rubbing his eyes in disbelief.

“… Boss? You, you’ve come!”

This man was Feng Zhen, the third son of the Marquis of Guangxin.

Xuan Mingzhu laughed with her arms crossed, “Long time no see, I’ve missed you all.”

She lifted her head to glance at her old friends, half of whom promptly dismounted to greet her.

Some called her “Boss,” others addressed her as “Your Highness,” and a few even referred to her as “Elder Sister.”

One woman in crimson Hufu remained still, riding her horse forward and looking down at Xuan Mingzhu with a cold, regal demeanor.

“Your Highness, you’ve long stopped mingling with us. What brings your noble presence here today? Any instructions for us?”

A girl with a delicate face quickly grabbed the reins of the woman’s horse, trying to intervene. “Eighth Sister, get down quickly. Yesterday, you were the one most upset about what happened with Brother-in-law, saying you’d go teach him a lesson. Now that Elder Sister is here, why are you acting so rudely?”

Xuan Mingzhu raised her eyebrows.

News of her troubles had spread fast—within a day, even they had heard.

Before she could respond, the woman on the horse said gravely, “You know as well as I do how rare it is to see her! All these years… Your Highness, today I, Li Mengjing, dare to speak my mind. There’s something I’ve been holding back for a long time, and I want to ask you now.”

“Ah Jing, what are you doing?”

“Eighth Sister, don’t speak recklessly…”

The faces of those around grew anxious. In the past, they had all been followers of the princess.

Many of their leisure activities—polo, hunting, drinking—had been learned under her influence.

There were countless spoiled young nobles in Luoyang, but in those days, they all looked up to the princess as their leader.

Even the unruly young heir of the Duke’s household—arrogant and proud—had learned his archery and riding skills under the princess’s personal guidance.

The princess had no regard for birth or status, treating everyone as equals if they met her standards.

Take Feng Zhen, for instance.

He was the least favored child in his household, often mocked by his elder brothers for being weak and short.

But during a hunting trip, the princess had seen him being bullied, and despite her lofty status, she had cracked her whip in his defense.

From that moment on, she included him in her group and never once mocked him for his appearance.

Feng Zhen often missed those days of following the princess—calling friends, drinking wine, and tying their horses outside the finest taverns in Luoyang.

So what if she hadn’t joined them for a long time after her marriage?

In Feng Zhen’s heart, even a hundred years later, the princess would still be his leader!

Xuan Mingzhu’s smile remained as she looked at Li Mengjing. “Go ahead, say what you want.”

Li Mengjing took a deep breath. “Your Highness, do you remember saying that people believe marriage is a woman’s second life, but you didn’t think it was the only thing in a woman’s life?

“Before you married, you were so free-spirited, with such a wide circle of friends. You befriended people like Lady Yang, Lin’s seventh daughter, the twin daughters of Marquis Wei, the young heir of the Duke, even Daoist Master Qingming of Nanhua Temple and Recluse Ji’ao from Yishuang Lake… You regarded them all as equals. But after your marriage, do you now see only your husband as your entire world, while treating the rest of us as worthless dirt? Are none of us worthy to drink and confide with the princess anymore?”

Li Mengjing’s sharp gaze didn’t waver, her voice rising:

“If that’s the case, let me ask you bluntly: Is it that they are no longer worthy to be your friends, or that you are no longer worthy to be theirs?”

A stunned silence fell over the field.

Onlookers from afar, unaware of the history behind this group, glanced curiously in their direction.

Feng Zhen stamped his foot nervously, casting worried glances at the princess, afraid she might turn and leave in anger.

Xuan Mingzhu was silent for a long while, then said, “Eighth Sister, your rebuke is justified. It’s me who has broken my promise.”

Li Mengjing’s expression softened slightly.

Xuan Mingzhu smiled and asked, “What now, Eighth Sister?”

Li Mengjing gazed into her eyes, full of restrained brilliance, and pointed toward a row of willows thirty yards away. “You taught me the art of willow shooting.”

As she spoke, she felt a surge of emotion in her chest.

In truth, it didn’t matter whether the princess still kept company with them.

But if Xuan Mingzhu had lost her true self over the years, then Li Mengjing wouldn’t recognize her as the leader anymore.

“Very well,” Xuan Mingzhu replied, adjusting the golden pin in her hair.

Then, with a swift movement, she squeezed her legs against the horse’s flanks, circling the field once.

As she passed by Feng Zhen’s horse, she grabbed the longbow hanging from his saddle and attached a quiver of arrows to her own.

Her long, jade-like fingers picked up an arrow and nocked it onto the string.

With a twist of her waist, she aimed at the willow branch a hundred paces away and shot without hesitation.

“Ugh.” The arrow only grazed a sliver of white bark from the branch.

It had been years since she last touched a bow, and her hand had grown rusty. Xuan Mingzhu flexed her wrist, frowning briefly.

The round-faced girl who had just been advising her to take it easy was Miss Yuan Yuan from the Fu family, of the Marquis of Weiyang.

Seeing this, she gasped softly, more upset than if she had missed the shot herself.

Fu Fangfang, who looked identical to her, flicked her fingers and laughed, “Don’t worry, have a little faith in the boss.”

Although Li Mengjing maintained a cold expression, her gaze followed the graceful figure in red without blinking.

Suddenly, Feng Zhen let out an exclamation of praise.

In a moment, Xuan Mingzhu had already drawn her bow and released a second arrow.

The willow branch was half cut, hanging by a thread—a masterful shot.

The third arrow followed quickly, like a falling star.

The slender willow branch snapped under the force of the wind.

The woman in red turned around with a bow in hand, smiling brightly.

To Li Mengjing and the others, it was as if they were seeing the unparalleled grace of the Princess in her prime once again.

It was important to remember that the Temple Name of Emperor Jinming was Wuzong.

His entire life was spent conquering territories from horseback, subduing foreign tribes, and ruling the Great Jin with military prowess.

The mountains and rivers bowed before his might. Xuan Mingzhu, as his eldest daughter, had mastered archery and horseback riding from a young age, taught personally by her father in every detail.

A person’s nature may change over time, but what is ingrained in their bones and blood is not so easily erased.

Just as Xuan Mingzhu was about to turn her horse around, a pair of wild geese flew across the vast, clear sky.

Her eyes sparkled as she grabbed an arrow, nocked it, and raised her arm to draw the bow, forming a perfect full moon.

The arrow shot out swiftly.

With one arrow, she pierced both wings. The two geese fell to the ground.

“Bravo!”

As the arrow struck, everyone, whether they recognized the princess or not, clapped their hands and cheered.

Old friends dismounted together, with Li Mengjing leading the way, hands clasped in salute, eyes reddening, “Boss.”

Xuan Mingzhu dismounted and helped her up.

She looked around at the familiar faces, nodded, and returned the salute.

“After all these years, it is fortunate that I still have true friends. I, Zhao Le, am truly blessed.”

….

The pair of wild geese fell from the sky, and an old servant at the warm flower pavilion in the southern park exclaimed in surprise, “It seems there’s a fine young man excelling again in the imperial gardens.”

He turned to the young official before him, who exuded a scholarly aura. “Sir, are you still interested in these plum blossoms?”

“Yes,” replied Mei Heting.

Mei Heting had come to the southern park specifically because Xuan Mingzhu liked plum blossoms, hoping to win her favor.

Throughout Luoyang, only the imperial gardens could provide such fine plum blossoms at the cusp of spring and summer.

What he hadn’t expected was that the old servant tending the flowers was a bit of a money-grubber.

He insisted that Mei Heting wasn’t from the inner palace and, since he wasn’t acting on orders from a noble, he would need to pay for the flowers if he wanted them.

Unfortunately, Mei Heting hadn’t brought any money with him today.

He was in the habit of not wearing a silver fish pouch on his belt, nor did he carry any small valuables like golden seals or ornamental tassels.

—Among all the officials of the three ministries and six departments, only he did not wear a gold or silver fish pouch.

As the most esteemed student of the Imperial Teacher, Mei Changsheng from Jiangzuo, his very presence signified his status. He had no need for a fish pouch to confirm his rank.

Yet today, he was being troubled by a lowly servant.

“Then forgive this old servant for being rude, sir, but you won’t be able to take these flowers with you.” The old servant spoke in a soft voice, smiling apologetically but firmly.

Having worked in the southern park for half his life, he had developed a keen eye.

He could tell this person was refined and courteous, clearly not an inner palace eunuch nor one of those domineering noble youths who couldn’t be trifled with.

Although he lacked the gold or silver fish pouch that symbolized official rank, he could walk freely in the imperial gardens.

Surely, he was a relative of some favored concubine, or perhaps a kept man trying to pick flowers to please his mistress?

No matter who this person was, the old servant wasn’t about to give up the flowers for nothing.

He thought, “Such dignified folks wouldn’t stoop to argue with an old man nearly in the grave, right?”

Mei Heting was indeed not the type to use his status to bully others.

In a voice as clear as a spring, he said, “Old sir, if you give me the plum blossoms now, I promise I will bring the money later today. I will not break my word.”

The old servant smiled broadly, “Then, sir, go fetch the money, and I will surely set aside the finest blooming branch for you.”

Mei Heting pursed his lips, “Going out of the palace and back will delay my affairs.”

The old servant’s eyes darted, “The white jade crown on your head, sir, is truly remarkable.”

“That won’t do.”

Mei Heting never thought he’d find himself haggling with a gardener, but his expression remained calm and composed.

He said sternly, “A gentleman must always wear his crown properly. In the past, the virtuous Zi Lu tied his sash before facing death, and so, no matter the situation, a crown must not be disarranged.”

The old servant didn’t understand this at all, and his eyes shifted instead to the jade pendant hanging at the young man’s waist.

What he didn’t know was that this plain, unmarked jade pendant had been a gift from Mei Heting’s elders when he was four years old, at the beginning of his education.

He had worn it daily for twenty years.

A gentleman should never part with his jade without cause, let alone one that’s a family heirloom.

Mei Heting shook his head. “That won’t do either.”

The old servant was at a loss for words.

Though he’d spent years in the palace, he knew that modern Luoyang, after being governed through three dynasties, was now wealthy and prosperous, with stylish young men everywhere.

But he had never seen someone so stingy with worldly possessions while trying to please a lady.

“Only someone who understands flowers should pick them,” the old servant said regretfully, shaking his head. “Your heart’s not in it, sir. Don’t toy with this old servant anymore.”