Chapter 17: A Chance Encounter with the Emperor

Jiang Chuyue lifted her head in a daze.

She and Xie Linyuan were standing a fair distance apart, so the black thumb ring on his hand was hard to make out. After a moment’s thought, she decided to pretend at praise:

“Your Highness, that thumb ring has a fine, lustrous sheen—surely a rare treasure. It suits your bearing perfectly.”

Flattery never offends, Jiang Chuyue thought inwardly. Such well-placed compliments could do no harm; after all, one could never be too polite.

But unexpectedly, Xie Linyuan’s long fingers flicked, and the carriage curtain fell with a sharp pa.

The luxurious carriage rolled away without pause.

Only drifting dust remained—along with a very puzzled Jiang Chuyue.

Xie Linyuan was angry.

Could it be that her presumptuous request to have the steward of the Prince’s residence deliver a gift had offended him?

“Seems I shouldn’t overstep in the future,” she murmured, clutching the wrist guard she had failed to send, sighing softly before returning to the Marquis of Zhen’nan’s estate.

---

The black sandalwood carriage rolled on slowly.

Inside, Xie Linyuan sat with a stormy face, his dark eyes cold enough to chill the air around him.

He toyed with the black jade thumb ring.

That clever Miss Jiang—she had already forgotten the gift she gave him, as if it had never existed.

“Your Highness, word from the palace: the Emperor has gone out incognito today. Shall we send men to protect him in secret?” the steward’s voice called from outside.

The reigning Emperor was decadent and pleasure-loving, but still of use for the moment. It was not yet time to remove him.

Xie Linyuan closed his eyes briefly.

“No need. If he dies, he deserves it.”

---

Jiang Chuyue returned to the Marquis’s estate for a banquet.

The halls were bright with lanterns, wine and laughter mingling in the air, tables laden with fine dishes, the scene opulent and festive.

Yet on the main seat, Old Madam Li’s face was stiff. Several times she seemed about to leave, but each time the estate’s mistress, Zhao Qinghuan, cast her a light, warning glance, forcing her to shrink back, clutching her sleeves and wearing a strained smile. Her eyes, however, brimmed with unwillingness and suppressed resentment.

Jiang Chuyue saw it all, and could not help sighing inwardly—Zhao Qinghuan’s methods were indeed formidable; she had the entire Marquis’s household firmly under control.

When the banquet ended and guests began to depart, Zhao Qinghuan personally escorted Jiang Chuyue to the gate, smiling warmly.

“So many matters today, Miss Jiang. If we have shown any neglect, I hope you will forgive us.”

Jiang Chuyue smiled lightly.

“You’re too polite, Madam. The birthday feast was delicious.”

Zhao Qinghuan’s eyes curved.

“Fanlou has many new pastries. I’ll have some sent to you another day—”

She was cut off by a sharp, girlish shout:

“Sister-in-law! Why didn’t you share those two bolts of Jiangnan Shu brocade with me? You kept them all for yourself!”

A young girl in embroidered silk stormed over—it was the Marquis’s Third Young Miss.

Barely past her coming-of-age, spoiled and willful, she now jabbed an accusatory finger at Zhao Qinghuan, face full of indignation.

Zhao Qinghuan arched a brow.

“I bought the Shu brocade with my own money. Why should I give it to you?”

The girl huffed:

“I’m the Marquis’s precious daughter—my brother’s own sister. Believe it or not, when my brother returns to the capital, I’ll have him divorce you!”

Zhao Qinghuan slowly raised a slender hand.

“Do you see this palm?”

The girl paled.

Zhao Qinghuan’s tone sharpened.

“Say one more word, and it will leave its mark on your face.”

Face flushing with grievance, the Third Miss ran off in tears.

Zhao Qinghuan turned back to Jiang Chuyue with an unbothered smile.

“You must forgive the scene, Miss Jiang. These idle parasites in the estate—without a bit of discipline, they never learn their place.”

Jiang Chuyue could only sigh inwardly. What a swift and decisive mistress of the Marquis’s household.

---

After parting from Zhao Qinghuan, Jiang Chuyue boarded her carriage.

As they passed through the bustling market, a hawker’s loud cry rang out:

“Top-quality tiger-bone wine! Cures bruises and sprains! Fresh in today—works like a charm!”

A thought struck Jiang Chuyue. Lifting the curtain, she instructed her maid Baozhu:

“Buy two bottles of tiger-bone wine.”

Xiao Ji trained daily with the Xuanwu Army, and injuries to muscles and bones were common.

A bottle of tiger-bone wine would be useful to him.

Baozhu soon returned with the wine.

When the carriage turned into a narrow alley, a figure staggered toward them, swaying drunkenly with a wine jug in hand. Without noticing the carriage ahead, he bumped his head hard against the axle.

The man groaned, clutching his forehead as he sat on the ground, dazed.

Baozhu snapped:

“Where did this drunk come from, daring to—”

Jiang Chuyue cut her off.

“Give him a bottle of tiger-bone wine. His head took quite a blow.”

Baozhu muttered:

“Miss, for a drunk like him, this wine is far too—”

“Enough. Let’s return to the estate. Grandmother is waiting.”

Reluctantly, Baozhu set the expensive bottle before the man, grumbling:

“Lucky for you. Any other noble household would have had you beaten.”

The drunken man, still muzzy-headed, lifted his gaze to see who had dared collide with him.

As a gust lifted the carriage curtain, he caught sight of her—

A young woman inside, features delicate as a painted scroll, beauty fresh as a lotus after rain. Even with just that fleeting glimpse, he could not look away.

When he came to his senses, the curtain had fallen, and the carriage was rumbling away, leaving only the bottle of tiger-bone wine on the ground.

He picked it up, running a thumb along the bottle’s smooth surface, interest gleaming in his eyes.

“When did the capital hide such a peerless beauty?”

Moments later, two eunuchs came hurrying up and dropped to their knees.

“Your Majesty! The palace gates are about to close—it’s time to return!”

The drunken man was none other than the Emperor of Great Qing, out incognito.

Holding the wine, his eyes lit with excitement.

“Just now—a carriage passed through this alley. Find out which estate it belongs to!”

He would find that beauty.

Bring her into the palace, savor her slowly… and then, bit by bit, destroy her.

---

Near dusk.

When Xiao Ji returned to the estate, he found Jiang Chuyue and a group of servants gathered under a tree, all craning their necks. A few stable lads were poking at the branches with long bamboo poles.

In the center stood Jiang Chuyue, dressed in a silver-white gauze gown, the hem swaying lightly in the breeze, as if scattering pear blossoms in spring.

Xiao Ji walked over.

“What’s going on?”

Hearing his voice, Jiang Chuyue turned, looking relieved.

“Tuanzi climbed up the tree, and I can’t get it down.”

Tuanzi was the white cat kept by the Xiao family’s matriarch.

At dusk, it had slipped from her courtyard, climbed high in pursuit of sparrows, and now sat huddled on a branch, mewing pitifully, too frightened to come down.

Xiao Ji chuckled.

“I’ll get it.”

With a light leap, he pushed off the tree trunk, and in moments was at the branch, plucking the furry bundle into his arms. Landing lightly, he didn’t even disturb a single leaf.

Jiang Chuyue’s heart gave a little stir.

“Brother, you’re amazing.”

He handed the cat to the matriarch’s old servant, his gaze lingering briefly on her smiling face.

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes,” she nodded, then added, “The kitchen made pigeon soup—it’s delicious. Brother, you must have two bowls later.”

Then she produced a bottle of tiger-bone wine and a pair of wrist guards.

“The Xuanwu Army’s training is hard on the body. These are for you.”

Xiao Ji’s expression eased, his voice low.

“Thank you, Little Yue.”