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Chapter 20: “Once He’s Tired of Playing, He’ll Naturally Cut Ties Cleanly.”
The next day, as the roosters crowed at dawn, Xuyang groggily opened her eyes and lifted the bed curtain, only to find that Juchen was already up. She sat upright in front of the mirror, dressing and grooming herself with an unusually good mood.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on duty today?” Xuyang couldn’t help but ask.
Juchen turned her head, smiling sweetly. “Yes, I am.”
She spent the morning in the Phoenix Pavilion. As her afternoon duty began, the Empress Dowager suddenly summoned her to transcribe some texts. While working, the Empress Dowager noticed Juchen kept gazing out the window at the setting sun.
The Empress Dowager asked, “What’s so fascinating out there?”
Juchen replied absentmindedly, “It feels like the sun is setting especially slowly today.”
The moment the words left her mouth, she realized it sounded wrong and quickly added, “What I meant was…”
But the Empress Dowager interrupted her with a laugh. “You mean you’re eager to be off duty.”
Juchen’s face turned crimson. The Empress Dowager, even more amused, said warmly, “If you have something urgent, I can let you leave early.”
Juchen quickly shook her head, cheeks flushed. “No, no, it’s not that urgent.”
The Empress Dowager smiled and gestured toward the side hall. “Then go fetch my ‘Hundred Birds Facing the Phoenix’ scroll from the study. Keep me company while I enjoy the painting, and I’ll let you leave after.”
Juchen bowed and backed out, heading to the study. She retrieved the scroll and was just about to step out from behind the curtain when she saw Pei Duzhi standing there. He suddenly raised a hand to signal her to stop.
Her steps paused in curiosity as she peered toward the main hall. A tall, familiar figure had entered her line of sight.
The Empress Dowager didn’t like being interrupted when talking with Song Mi, so Juchen obediently stayed behind the curtain with Pei Duzhi. From there, she overheard a rising argument.
Song Mi had promised the Empress Dowager he would stay at the palace with her for a few days, but now he was telling her he planned to leave the palace.
The Empress Dowager asked irritably, “Why leave when you’re supposed to be resting?”
Song Mi, hands behind his back, replied, “I can rest outside the palace too.”
The Empress Dowager curled her lips. Knowing his talent for diplomacy, she asked bluntly, “Are you seeing someone outside?”
It was merely a hunch. Song Mi rarely went back on his word, but her instincts as a mother made her suspicious.
Unfazed, Song Mi replied, “Are you investigating me, Your Majesty?”
“I don’t have time for that!” she snapped, hiding her shock and rising anger. “So you admit it?”
Song Mi touched the tip of his nose, raising his brows. There was a hint of roguish charm in his expression that she had never seen before. Even the daggers she shot him with her eyes couldn’t wipe the shameless grin from his face.
She scoffed coldly and scolded, “All these years, you’ve been so picky. You once said, ‘Of the waters of the world, I only draw one ladle,’ and I actually believed that nonsense! I thought you wanted to find a goddess to marry. What’s so good about those who throw themselves at you? Do you even realize what they’re after?”
Song Mi answered earnestly, “What else could they be after—my body, of course.”
The Empress Dowager’s eyes widened, her lips twitched speechlessly. Her fingers clenched tightly around the rim of her teacup. She inhaled deeply, too afraid to even ask if it was a man or a woman, lest his answer send her straight into unconsciousness.
She tried to comfort herself. After all, the boy had passed twenty and was in his prime—dabbling in affairs of passion was normal.
Fanning herself to calm down, she speculated: knowing his character, he definitely wasn’t interested in men. With his handsome face, it was hard to imagine anyone rejecting him. If the person was of proper status, he could have just come clean and proposed formally—there would be no need for secrecy.
Thinking it over, she tried to compromise: “If you’re not ready to marry, you could at least take a concubine. A clean background is a must—I can even help you choose.”
Without hesitation, Song Mi replied, “I’m not taking any concubines.”
The Empress Dowager sighed heavily and pointed her fan at his nose. “This won’t do, that won’t do—Song Zhengzhi, what do you want?”
What did he want?
He hadn’t figured it out himself. But every time he asked the question, Li Juchen’s face would surface in his mind. And every time he remembered that she loved someone else, and everything between them was nothing more than her way of making peace with her regrets—his heart turned to ice.
The Empress Dowager saw his silence and began fanning furiously. Just as she was about to speak again, Song Mi said impatiently, “You don’t have to worry. I know what I’m doing. When the time comes, I’ll cut things off cleanly.”
He didn’t want to get into too much detail and risk her finding out—it would only create more trouble. Nor did he want to lie more than necessary.
But his cold tone, paired with that unruly smirk, didn’t give off even a hint of sincerity.
Far from being reassured, the Empress Dowager nearly exploded from fury at his cavalier attitude.
She shook the fan at him several times, then, realizing words were useless, threw the fan onto the table and waved him away. “Just go! Get out!”
His silhouette vanished from the hall in an instant.
Behind the curtain, Juchen stood frozen for a long time. Her gaze slowly dropped, the light in her eyes completely extinguished.
Of course—who would ever love a woman who climbed into his bed?
In this life, their paths had already shifted. His first impression of her wasn’t of a proper lady; responsibility wasn’t even a consideration.
She had never understood why he liked her in their past life. Perhaps he had just been blind for a moment. And now that they’d been physically intimate, he realized it wasn’t anything special after all.
Maybe that was for the best. She had never been someone worthy of his deep affection.
Still, when she returned home after her shift and lay alone on her bed, her heart felt like a stone sinking endlessly into the sea.
That night, Song Mi arrived early at the Ci You Courtyard.
He waited in the room for a long time—but the person who promised to meet him never came.
In June, the Eastern Capital basked under the blazing sun with not a cloud in the sky, marking the arrival of a scorching summer.
The greenery in the front courtyard of the Phoenix Pavilion, newly planted just a few years ago, was no match for the sun’s rays. Cicadas buzzed without end, and waves of heat shimmered visibly above the ground.
The stifling weather put people on edge. In the Phoenix Pavilion, the only sounds were the quiet flapping of female officials fanning themselves with their documents.
Lu Yun finished writing a report, set down her brush, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and grumbled, “I remember the palace used to bring in ice blocks as early as May. Why haven’t we seen any this year?”
A nearby official replied kindly, “The dike at the Yellow River estuary needed reconstruction this year, and much of the spring budget went to disaster relief. The treasury is short, and the Empress Dowager just ordered the Ministry of Internal Affairs to promote frugality. I’m afraid we won’t be seeing any ice this year.”
Lu Yun thought of the hardships the people had endured and could only sigh in understanding.
Although she tried to reason with herself, once Ju Chen returned home, she lay alone on her couch. Her heart felt like a stone sinking into the sea—down, down, endlessly sinking.
That night, Song Mi arrived early at the Ci You Courtyard.
He sat in the room and waited for a long time, but the person who had arranged to meet him never came.
In June, the Eastern Capital basked under blazing sunlight. Not a cloud in sight, the sky silently announced the arrival of a scorching summer.
The greenery newly planted in the front yard of the Phoenix Pavilion was only a few years old and couldn’t block the sun’s direct rays. The cicadas screeched endlessly, and the ground seemed to shimmer with visible heatwaves.
In such weather, people tended to become irritable. The Phoenix Pavilion was filled with the quiet rustle of female officials fanning themselves with document scrolls.
After finishing her official report, Lu Yun set her wolf-hair brush on the rack, wiped the fine sweat from her brow, and couldn’t help complaining, “I remember that in previous years, the palace would begin using ice chests in May. Why hasn’t the palace sent them this year?”
A nearby female official explained gently, “The levee at the Yellow River mouth in Shangdu needs rebuilding this year. With the disaster relief funds that were distributed in early spring, the treasury is strained. Her Majesty the Empress Dowager has issued an order encouraging frugality throughout the palace. The ice chests—probably won’t be in use this year.”
Lu Yun thought of the suffering endured by the people of Shangdu and could only sigh in understanding.
Xue Wan picked up the palm fan she had brought and waved it a few times. Glancing at the time, she said, “Hang in there—it’s nearly time. Later, I’ll treat everyone to the new ‘milk syrup ice’ at Taiyuan Pavilion.”
“Milk syrup ice? What’s that? Is it good?”
“I heard they heat milk sugar until it’s soft and drizzle it over shaved ice. Five-inch tall cups, crushed ice at the bottom, milk syrup and fruit jam on top—perfectly refreshing in this kind of heat.”
After her explanation, the surrounding women responded with interested chatter.
Xue Wan smiled as she fanned herself, and her eyes unconsciously glanced sideways. After a brief pause, she extended the same invitation again to Ju Chen, who had remained buried in her documents and silent the whole time.
The person called didn’t react at all.
Unable to resist, Xue Wan patted her shoulder. Ju Chen jolted her head up, and seeing that not a single word had been written, Xue Wan realized she had been completely lost in thought.
Xue Wan asked with concern, “Is something bothering you? You’ve seemed distracted these past few days.”
Ju Chen hesitated, then rubbed her eyes as if tired. “Nothing, just overworked lately. Stealing a moment to rest now.”
“Ju Chen really carried the team on the Shangdu project,” Lu Yun chimed in with admiration. “I’ve never seen you work that hard. Since last month, Chief Attendant Shen’s opinion of you has changed significantly. Who knows? You might be the first among us to get promoted.”
Ju Chen lifted the corners of her lips in a faint smile. Another female official added, “But after this incident, the Prince of Pengshan has earned even more merit. His position in the cabinet has skyrocketed.”
So young, yet already holding great power. Ripples of awe spread through the room.
Ju Chen’s smile gradually faded. She silently turned back to her work, no longer joining the conversation.
Since that day when she failed to show up, half a month had passed. She hadn’t seen Song Mi again.
She knew she had broken the promise first. It made sense that he wouldn’t come looking for her. A man as busy as he was had no reason to be concerned about a woman who had climbed into his bed and then disappeared. It wouldn’t be surprising or strange.
After all, women wanting to sleep with him were everywhere. Rather than waiting until he grew bored and threw some hush money her way, it was better to end this brief affair silently by failing to show up.
Even though she kept trying to reason with herself like that, Ju Chen gripped her pen tightly, stared at the official document before her, and still hadn’t written a single word.
By lunchtime, Ju Chen declined Xue Wan’s invitation. Once everyone had left the Phoenix Pavilion, she buried her head in her arms on the desk.
Outside, the cicadas continued their noisy clamor.
Ju Chen covered her ears, pressing her head against her forearms. Still, the buzzing in her ears wouldn’t stop, and her heart found no peace. It was as if she were adrift on a vast ocean, unable to sink or reach shore. Her throat and the corners of her eyes were filled with the salty sting of seawater.
The feeling was truly awful.
Around 1:30 p.m., Yuan Zheng had just come out of the Privy Council. The dining hall had already stopped serving food. Starving, he rushed outside the palace and happened to pass by the Phoenix Pavilion, where he saw Ju Chen slumped over her desk, completely still.
Frowning, Yuan Zheng approached and shook her arm. “What are you doing? …Why are your eyes red?”
When their eyes met, Yuan Zheng’s voice grew serious. “Who bullied you?”
Ju Chen shook her head and murmured, her voice hoarse, “The cicadas are too loud. I can’t focus.”
“I thought something serious had happened. I’ll send someone to get rid of them for you this afternoon. Have you eaten?”
She shook her head again.
Yuan Zheng frowned deeper, grabbed her arm, and forcibly dragged her off to Taiyuan Pavilion, lecturing her the whole way, “I know you hate the heat, but you still have to eat. If you ruin your health, who’ll pay for it?”
“You’re so thin. You should learn from Xuyang. She had dinner, then a midnight snack. When she heard Taiyuan Pavilion had a new dessert, she dragged me out of bed in the middle of the night to go get it.”
“I asked her why she didn’t send someone from her palace instead of me. Guess what she said? ‘They’re all tired and need to sleep.’ So apparently I, the prince consort, don’t need rest all year round!”
Yuan Zheng crossed his arms and fumed. “If it weren’t an imperial decree, even a dog wouldn’t want this job as prince consort.”
Listening to his ranting, Ju Chen was finally distracted and couldn’t help curling her lips in a faint smile. But her mind still wandered back to the night she and Song Mi met again after his wedding—their second encounter.
The first time, she had been drunk and perhaps emboldened by the alcohol, so she’d been more forward. The second time, though she’d stopped him herself, she’d been completely sober—and trembling as soon as she lay down beside him. He took his time, carefully soothing her to avoid hurting her. It wasn’t until the middle of the night that Ju Chen finally made some faint sounds of pleasure.
As a deep groan escaped him, he looked up and stared into her dazed eyes.
Ju Chen’s cheeks flushed bright red. Just as she opened her mouth to ask him to stop looking, her stomach let out a loud, unceremonious growl.
There was nothing more embarrassing than that.
But he didn’t seem turned off at all. Instead, he frowned and asked if she hadn’t eaten, then got up to dress, saying he would find her something to eat.
Ju Chen wouldn’t dare trouble him. Besides, it was already late. Waking the kitchen staff now would be cruel. She was a worker herself—she knew how hard that life was.
Song Mi didn’t argue. He simply said he’d ride to the Golden Market—some restaurants there stayed open late.
Ju Chen stared blankly at his retreating figure and suddenly understood: sometimes, just a little tenderness—especially from someone like the Prince of Pengshan—was enough to completely melt a girl’s heart.
Clutching her sleeve, Ju Chen’s nose stung. She suddenly buried her head, overwhelmed by sadness.
A mismatch in timing and misplaced feelings—this kind of helplessness was enough to crush someone.
Was this how he had felt in his previous life?
Outside Taiyuan Pavilion, the streets bustled with people and carriages.
Song Mi and Lin Zongbai sat in a private room on the top floor, playing a game of Go.
Song Mi lifted his teacup and placed a piece on the board. At that moment, he heard a ripple of laughter from outside the door. Instinctively, he turned to look out the window.
Among the group of female officials, that familiar figure was not there.
Lin Zongbai followed his gaze and casually remarked, “Haven’t seen little sister Chen around lately.”
Song Mi looked back, saw his teacup was empty, and quietly lifted the teapot—only to find it was dry.
He raised his hand slightly, and a maid hurried in with a freshly brewed pot. After setting it down and pouring two cups, she bowed and retreated.
Lin Zongbai fiddled with his Go piece and frowned. “You’ve been coming here lately without eating, just mooching off my good tea. How many pots have you drained?”
Song Mi replied flatly, “I have to return to the Cabinet this afternoon. Your tea keeps me awake.”
Lin Zongbai rested his chin in his hand, eyeing him curiously. “A workaholic like you, needing tea to stay focused? Got something on your mind? Care to share?”
Looking at his mischievous expression, Song Mi answered nonchalantly, “Xuyang is back. Did you know?”
The princess whom Lin Zongbai once swore he’d propose to after becoming top scholar had returned with her husband.
Lin Zongbai fell silent briefly, then scowled. “I try to care about you, and you just bring up the worst topics.”
“What did I say?”
“Fine.” Lin Zongbai dropped a piece, sweeping a section of the board.
Song Mi responded with a counterattack.
The silent battle resumed. Another pot of tea slowly emptied, and the blazing midday sun had begun its descent toward the west.
As Song Mi studied the board, he suddenly heard Lu Yun’s sharp, teasing voice ring out from the entrance below:
“Wow, we call you and you don’t come, but apparently the heir of the Yuan family is enough to get you out.”
“It’s not…”
That familiar, clear voice drifted into her ears. Song Mi’s fingers paused mid-motion, and her gaze involuntarily shifted to the window.
Yuan Zheng was standing beside her. Seeing her looking troubled, he stepped forward with a gentle smile and explained to her colleagues, “I was the one who insisted on dragging her here. Besides, if she won’t even give me this little bit of face, then all those years I doted on her when we were kids would’ve been for nothing.”
“Alright, alright. We know you two are close. I was just joking.” Lu Yun chuckled. “She’s been complaining about the heat these past few days and hasn’t been eating properly. Having the heir bring her here actually saves us a lot of trouble—otherwise she’d just say she had no strength and push all the work onto us.”
“How is that true? You offered to help, I never even agreed,” Ju Chen’s eyebrows knitted slightly. Her usually composed face was animated with irritation.
“Exactly—but that doesn’t stop us from tattling on you,” Lu Yun raised her brow teasingly, drawing laughter from the other palace women around them.
Ju Chen huffed in defiance. “It’s not like he can control me.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, Yuan Zheng raised his brow slightly, and just like when they were younger, reached out and pinched her ear. “Oh? Really?”
The girls around them burst into giggles and teasing laughter.
Through the window, Song Mi watched those bright star-like eyes glaring at Yuan Zheng, unwavering and intense. His own eyes grew darker and deeper.
So, that night she suddenly stood him up—was it because, as soon as Yuan Zheng returned to the capital, everyone else became irrelevant?
Song Mi couldn’t help but recall how that night he had waited for her the entire evening. She never showed. He worried something might’ve happened to her and rushed to Fengge Courtyard the next day—only to see her reporting for duty as usual.
Clearly, nothing had happened.
But she had made no move to explain herself—not even a single word.
Which meant… she simply didn’t care.
Lin Zongbai urged him to make a move in the game.
Song Mi turned back to the board, not even glancing, and blindly placed a piece.
Lin Zongbai immediately made a countermove, then looked at him and said helplessly, “Zhengzhi, you lost again.”
He said he was coming to challenge Lin’s reputation as a chess master, but these past few days, Song Mi had clearly not been in the right frame of mind.
He couldn’t even bring himself to ask about it directly.
After all these years, when had he ever seen Song Mi look this dejected? It was enough to make Lin Zongbai’s nosy curiosity itch uncontrollably.
But Song Mi ignored him, tossed the pieces back into the basket, paused silently for a moment, then looked up and asked, “Is it ready?”
Lin Zongbai sighed. “The finest jade craftsmen are already working on it.” He hesitated, then couldn’t help but ask, “But how did you even know I had that jade?”
Because in a past life, you had it.
Song Mi only said, “Guess.”
Lin Zongbai clicked his tongue and raised an eyebrow. “If you hadn’t asked, I wouldn’t have been willing to give it up. You’re having it made into two bracelets—who are they for? Don’t tell me, after twenty-odd years as a bachelor, you’ve suddenly decided to chase two girls at once?”
Song Mi pressed his lips into a flat line and gave him a look, then asked instead, “Have you forgotten whose birthday is coming up soon?”
The smile on Lin Zongbai’s face froze for a moment. After a long silence, he composed himself and replied, “That does surprise me. I always thought you didn’t like your half-sister, but you received her invitation and are taking it so seriously, even preparing such a fine birthday gift.”
Song Mi didn’t spare him, stabbing verbally: “You searched the entire empire for that jade, weren’t you planning to give it to Xuyang?”
Lin Zongbai fell briefly silent, gritted his teeth, then gave a bitter smile. “I was.”
He let out a long sigh, then resignedly said, “But having you give it to her is more fitting now.”
After all… she’s already married.
June 25 — an auspicious day, the 20th birthday of Princess Xuyang.
Yuan Zheng had applied for a half-day leave in advance. As soon as court was dismissed at noon, he returned to the Princess’s manor. He spent the entire afternoon organizing everything. As the sun dipped in the west, guests began arriving one after another for the evening banquet.
Dressed impeccably, Yuan Zheng stood at the gate to greet the arriving guests.
As the sun set behind the treetops and the second chime of the evening drum rang out, a carriage came galloping down the imperial avenue, heading out of the palace.
Ju Chen and Lu Yun lifted their skirts and stepped down from the carriage, elegant silhouettes gliding toward the gates of the Princess’s estate.
From a distance, Yuan Zheng spotted Ju Chen’s figure. A smile stretched across his face. Once she entered the door, he quietly pulled her aside and led her to his study. From a drawer, he carefully took out several paintings and whispered, “Which one should I give Xuyang? Which one would she like?”
The Yunnan royal family had long defended the empire’s southern border, renowned for its martial prowess, especially in horseback archery. Yuan Zheng, their only son, had been sent to the capital as a pledge of loyalty. He entered the city at age six and was entrusted to Princess Xuan Ning to be raised alongside Xuyang.
In recent years, the King of Yunnan’s health had declined rapidly. It seemed likely that the powerful southern title would soon fall to Yuan Zheng. To secure peace in the region and maintain imperial favor, the Empress Dowager arranged a marriage between Xuyang and Yuan Zheng.
But Xuyang, raised in the refined Eastern Capital, had long admired talented scholars. Taught poetry and painting by Princess Xuan Ning, she had once dreamed of marrying someone like Lin Zongbai—a cultured man with whom she could play music and compose poetry.
Instead, she married a brute who knew nothing of the arts.
Yuan Zheng knew she’d never seen him as anything more than a brother. After marriage, their relationship remained much the same as in childhood.
Even so, Ju Chen could see in every brushstroke of his how seriously he studied painting.
Yuan Zheng was a martial fanatic—brilliant in combat, able to hold off entire armies alone. But when it came to ink and brush, he was out of his depth.
He sighed. “No wonder they call him the capital’s finest young lord. Unlike me—thick as a brick, can’t do two things at once.”
Ju Chen reassured him, “But not being able to multitask also means you’re loyal in love. Women admire devotion—a lifetime with just one person.”
Yuan Zheng didn’t agree. “If the Duke of Panshan likes someone, he’d be just as devoted.”
“Oh? And what makes you say that?”
“I don’t know. Just a feeling,” he scratched his head with a smile. Maybe not a feeling—but the instinct of a kindred spirit.
Ju Chen lowered her head to examine the paintings, ready to help him choose seriously. But after a moment of silence, Yuan Zheng suddenly took them all from her hands.
“Never mind, I won’t give her these,” he said, stuffing the scrolls back into the drawer.
He walked to another cabinet full of ornate gift boxes and began choosing from the glittering offerings.
Ju Chen couldn’t help but protest, “Those may be fancy, but Ranran’s seen too many of them. Nothing compares to something handmade.”
But Yuan Zheng only shook his head, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “She’s surrounded by people who can write and paint. Why would she care about anything I made?”
Not to mention Lin Zongbai—the greatest artist in the capital, once Princess Xuan Ning’s favorite student and Xuyang’s childhood idol.
Ju Chen said softly, “How do you know she wouldn’t like it if you never try?”
Yuan Zheng smiled bitterly. “She’s never liked me.”
If not for the Lin family’s downfall, Xuyang had planned to ask her mother for a royal marriage decree after Lin Zongbai passed the imperial exams.
He would never have had a chance.
Ju Chen fell quiet, memories flooding back—the day Xuyang first met Yuan Zheng.
Yuan Zheng had grown close to Ju Chen first. Both were outsiders in the capital, sharing the same sense of displacement, so they became friends quickly.
But Xuyang was different—raised as the most beloved princess of the dynasty, proud and aloof. Without Ju Chen mediating, she would’ve never befriended someone like Yuan Zheng.
She remembered it clearly—a warm, sunny day. Lin Zongbai was sketching white egrets by the pavilion in the private school’s courtyard.
Xuyang stood silently behind him, admiring the scene.
Newly arrived from the wild southern forests, Yuan Zheng saw Xuyang pointing to the sky and shouting in excitement. Thinking she wanted to eat the birds, he immediately used a slingshot to shoot them down.
From that day on, Xuyang saw him as a crude brute—an utter lack of refinement.
Even after marriage, she still resented him. To this day, they had not consummated their marriage.
In a past life, Yuan Zheng died in battle. Xuyang withdrew from the world—whether out of guilt or something more, Ju Chen could never say.
Eventually, Yuan Zheng chose a set of opulent jewelry as a gift and walked out of the study with Ju Chen.
As they chatted, he noticed the shadow in her eyes and tried to lift her spirits by sharing a funny story from their time in the southern borderlands. It made her lips curl into a smile.
But just as they stepped into the courtyard, a new guest arrived at the gate.
Ju Chen turned her head, still smiling—and locked eyes with Song Mi.
Inside the palace, an imperial decree had just arrived. Xuyang was kneeling to accept it.
As Ju Chen and the others approached, they heard a loud crash from inside—the sound of a teacup smashing—and Xuyang’s furious voice.
“Every year, my brother comes to my birthday himself! And this year, all I get is an edict and a few boxes of stuff? So it’s true—once a daughter’s married off, she’s as good as water thrown out!”
Her nursemaid, Granny Hong, quickly tried to soothe her. “Your Highness, please don’t be upset with His Majesty. If word gets out and reaches his ears, it won’t sound good.”
“And who would tell him? Feng Zhenzhen?”
“Oh dear, my little princess! Now that Lady Feng has become the Empress, please don’t call her by name so directly anymore.”
“Why shouldn’t I call her that? She’s my royal brother’s second wife, and I’m still his full-blooded younger sister! Nanny Hong, she did it on purpose! Of all times to fall ill, she just had to get sick during my birthday! She’s clearly trying to keep the Emperor from coming to see me, afraid I’ll speak ill of her!”
“But His Majesty favors her deeply, and it’s not like this is news to you…”
Xuyang was instantly furious, shouting that she wanted to return the imperial gifts.
Juchen quickly came in to calm her down, and after quite a while of coaxing, she finally settled.
Seeing her sulking, Juchen gently tugged her arm and swayed it slightly, saying, “Everyone outside has arrived. Don’t you want to see what gifts they’ve brought for you?”
Xuyang pursed her lips and let out a cold huff, then reluctantly followed her lead and sat down in the inner hall to receive the guests’ presents.
Juchen stood beside her, helping open each gift box one by one—it was all a familiar scene from her past life.
Xuyang’s temper always came and went quickly. It wasn’t long before her eyes began to sparkle again. She cried out over one gift, “Achen, look at this pearl—it’s almost the size of a bowl!”
“Mmm! I think it shines even brighter than the luminous pearl from Huaqing Palace.”
As soon as she said that, a flash of anxiety passed through Juchen’s heart. Thankfully, Xuyang was so focused on the pearl that she didn’t catch the slip in her words. She just gasped, “Yes, it’s truly beautiful.”
Juchen breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Xuyang couldn’t help but pick up the pearl and weigh it in her hand. Just then, the heir of Prince Guangping, Song Yun, walked through the door in a light, lively stride.
After he had rejected a marriage proposal during a palace banquet, the old princess had confined him for three months. When he tried to climb the wall and escape, she extended it by another three months. He had only just been released recently.
He walked in with a bright smile, but when he saw Juchen, his demeanor changed—he strode forward sternly and pointed at her, demanding, “Why didn’t you come to the palace banquet that day?”
It had been half a year, a long time by any standard. But for someone like Song Yun, who had been confined and felt every day like the same, it didn’t feel long at all. Juchen was stunned for a moment before realizing he was here to scold her. She replied calmly, “Were you trying to use me as a shield for the marriage?”
Song Yun protested, “What do you mean ‘a shield’? I truly like you!”
He shouted in a rush, not noticing the two tall figures that had arrived at the threshold behind him.
Neither Juchen nor Xuyang could see outside through the bead curtain from the inner room. At that moment, Juchen simply looked at Song Yun with pursed lips until he grew guilty under her gaze and scratched his head honestly. “Well, I didn’t really want to get married so soon.”
After that, he squinted and grinned. His smile was pure, like an eternal boy who would never grow up.
Xuyang sneered and adopted the tone of an older cousin as she sternly criticized, “When you were a child, you kept yelling that once you grew up, you’d marry Achen. Now you’re old enough, where’s your grand bridal procession?”
“It’s not like I don’t want to!” Song Yun quickly explained, biting his lip. “I just haven’t fulfilled my ambitions yet, so I don’t have the face to ask for her hand.”
“So what you mean is, once you’ve achieved your ambitions, you’ll definitely propose?”
“Of course!”
Xuyang chuckled, “Alright, I approve! Achen’s working as a female official now anyway—she can’t leave just yet. I’ll wait for that day of yours.”
Before she finished speaking, Juchen interjected disapprovingly, “I haven’t even said anything yet. What are you approving?”
Xuyang pouted and pinched Juchen’s cheek. “You don’t even want to marry into the royal family. Who exactly do you plan to marry? You better not go too far from me.”
Juchen pinched her back and teased, “Why don’t you just marry me instead?”
Xuyang tilted her chin up and admired Juchen’s beautiful face, sighing, “Not entirely impossible.”
The two looked at each other and laughed.
Song Yun, with his pure-hearted nature, scratched his head as he listened. He was just about to remind them that they were both women and couldn’t marry, when Nanny Hong’s respectful voice rang out from outside.
“His Highness has arrived! Why are you still outside? The Princess has been waiting for you!”
Juchen’s back instantly stiffened, her gaze drawn toward the door. The smile on her lips slowly faded into a straight line as a faint nervousness crept into her chest.
Xuyang peeked around the curtain and saw that Song Mi’s tall figure was already standing at the door.
Behind him was the second son of the Lu family, Lu Feng.
Lu Feng had overheard the entire conversation from outside and couldn’t help but whisper teasingly in Song Mi’s ear, “If the Princess really does bring Juchen into the household, then it’s a pair of childhood friends with the same man—it’ll be a tangled love triangle, day in and day out.”
Song Mi didn’t respond and simply stepped inside.
It had been so long since they last saw each other that even though Juchen’s rational mind screamed “don’t look”, her eyes lifted on their own, glancing at him—then glancing again.
Their gazes locked.
His expression was unreadable, his deep eyes showing no hint of extra emotion, but he clearly saw her.
Juchen quickly turned away, heart skipping an uncertain beat.
Song Yun noticed his royal uncle had arrived and quickly stepped aside, calling for his attendant to present the gift.
Juchen helped him open it—just like in her past life, it was Xuyang’s favorite tea, white-tipped silver needles.
Lu Feng presented a valuable doucai porcelain.
Xuyang accepted everything with a smile, then turned to Song Mi with outstretched hands, saying, “Little Uncle?”
She was always good at going along with the moment. Seeing that Song Mi had accepted the invitation, she started to test if he’d be willing to grow closer to her.
Song Mi raised an eyebrow slightly but didn’t mind her slightly playful tone. He turned and took an exquisite brocade box from Yuan Ruo’s hands and offered a blessing:
“May your virtue be preserved, enduring through the ages. May joy and laughter never cease.”
His words were gentle, but his gesture was faint and lazy—as if his arms were long enough, but he still didn’t bother to stretch them out.
Juchen hesitated for a moment before stepping forward to receive it. As she got close, his familiar cold scent brushed past her nose, making her instinctively hold her breath.
Her heart began to pound wildly.
In her past life, Song Mi had never met Xuyang at the city gate, and she never sent him a birthday invitation. Juchen had no idea what gift he would have given Xuyang.
The brocade box was exquisitely wrapped. Juchen carefully opened it for Xuyang and handed it over.
Xuyang looked down and her eyes lit up immediately.
Inside lay a pair of golden bangles.
She quickly picked them up and examined the orchid vine–carved jade inlays—exactly the gemstone she had been searching for!
She had heard as a girl that a rare jade had been unearthed in Burma—a twin stone, half purple and half green, flawless and pure, said to have the best water quality ever seen. It eventually made its way into the Central Plains and vanished. She had always wanted to find it and craft it into a pair of bracelets.
She never expected her little uncle to read her mind so well.
But he was even more extravagant than she imagined—he had cut the jade into two parts, selecting only the most beautiful portions, and embedded them into golden bangles. They were encased in intricate golden wirework with almost supernatural craftsmanship for protection.
Xuyang couldn’t help but ask why he had “wasted” such a precious stone this way—embedding it into gold.
Song Mi’s reasoning, true to every unromantic man, was practical:
“Gold doesn’t break easily.”
Xuyang was speechless for a long time. Then she beamed like a flower in bloom and slipped the purple jade bracelet onto her wrist.
Then she pulled Juchen over, intending to put the green one on her.
Though lavender jade was rare, imperial green was the most valuable color in the eyes of the world.
Xuyang smiled sweetly, “You’re fairer than me. Green will look even better on you.”
Juchen shyly pulled her hand back. “Ranran, this is from the prince… for you…”
Xuyang pouted. “But I’ve searched for this jade for years, always hoping to make one for each of us.” She glanced at Song Mi and added with a grin, “If Little Uncle made two, he must’ve already guessed my wish. Surely, he’ll allow me to share one.”
Song Mi smiled faintly and didn’t object.
Without another word, Xuyang took Juchen’s hand and slid the bracelet onto her wrist.
Strangely enough, it fit perfectly.
“I always felt gold jewelry didn’t suit you—too flashy, too gaudy. But this golden bracelet from Uncle actually highlights your fair skin and delicate beauty. It brings out your elegance without being tacky. In fact, it looks even better than a plain bangle.”
The gift still felt too extravagant. Juchen hesitated, about to object, but Xuyang gently pressed his index finger to her lips and hushed her. Holding her hand tightly, he interrupted,
“You must keep it well. Didn’t you hear what Uncle just said? He put a lot of thought into this. If it breaks, he’ll be heartbroken.”
“…”
Juchen stopped declining. After a pause, she looked seriously at Xuyang and said,
“Then you’re not allowed to throw it away either.”
Don’t toss it at my feet again. Don’t ignore me again…
Xuyang laughed in disbelief,
“Something this valuable? Would I be insane to do that?”
In the previous life, Xuyang gave her this bracelet after Juchen had been demoted for three years and returned to the capital.
Juchen never knew where she had gotten the jade. She only heard Xuyang say it was “a crystallization of nature symbolizing their friendship,” and so she had treasured it deeply.
Later, when Xuyang shattered her own bracelet, Juchen searched high and low for craftsmen to try to repair it.
Unfortunately, it was never restored.
That’s the nature of jade—just like feelings—once cracked, it’s hard to restore.
Song Mi, always resourceful, learned of Xuyang’s wish in this lifetime and found the jade in advance, giving it as a birthday gift. Emotionally and logically, it made perfect sense.
This was also his first time attending one of their childhood friends’ gatherings.
As night fell, all the dishes from the imperial kitchen had been served, and the guests set down their chopsticks.
Lin Zongbai, who had arrived late, brought in his birthday gift for Princess Xuyang. He hadn’t originally received an invitation from the princess’s residence—Yuan Zheng had someone bring him in at the last minute.
Yuan Zheng thought: although Xuyang spared him the embarrassment of being left out by not inviting him, she would surely be happy to see Lin Zongbai.
Lin Zongbai claimed he came in a hurry and hadn’t prepared anything special, so he brought his acting troupe along to liven up the atmosphere.
But the plays she liked weren’t anything particularly unique, and Lin Zongbai didn’t want anyone thinking otherwise.
Still, Xuyang gazed at him silently for a while before shifting her eyes away.
After one act ended, a comedic role came on stage in odd costume. Sitting beside Xuyang, Juchen turned to her, and the two exchanged a look—then laughed together.
Everyone else found it funny too and joined in the laughter.
Xuyang’s gaze swept across the room, then subtly pointed toward Song Mi. She whispered in Juchen’s ear,
“Look at Uncle leaning back in his chair, toying with his cup while watching the play. Doesn’t he look exactly like Mother?”
Everyone said Xuyang inherited the Empress Dowager’s beauty—like a younger version of her.
But in truth, of the Dowager’s three biological children, Song Mi not only looked like her, but also shared her temperament—as if carved from the same mold.
They both appeared gentle, but carried a natural air of authority.
Like the moon—radiant yet distant, gentle but cold.
“What do you think he’s like when he loves someone?” Xuyang couldn’t help but wonder aloud.
“Would someone so noble ever chase love recklessly, like a moth to a flame? I wonder if I’ll ever be lucky enough to see it in this life.”
Like the way people love stories about gods descending to earth—the fall of the exalted always sparks curiosity.
Juchen gazed at his back, lost in thought. Just as Lu Feng tapped him on the shoulder and he was about to turn, she quietly looked away.
As Song Mi turned, listening to Lu Feng’s chatter beside him, his eyes couldn’t help but drift toward the main seat.
Xuyang was blocking part of her, her eyes focused on the stage.
Yuan Zheng handed her a plate of candied fruit. She smiled and turned her head to thank him, disappearing completely from Song Mi’s line of sight.
The play ended. The banquet wound down.
Music played softly from the instruments. Guests began to leave one by one, leaving behind only Xuyang’s closest friends.
Xuyang, finding it boring to just listen to music and chat, suggested they all move to the pavilion by the pond for fresh air. Seeing Song Mi hadn’t left, she casually invited him too.
Whether he agreed out of politeness or genuine interest, he nodded—and Xuyang beamed with joy.
Many at the table had studied together at the princess’s private academy. Reunited now, they couldn’t help lamenting the hardships of adulthood.
First were a few clerks from the Ministry of Revenue, complaining that every tax inspection felt like debt collection. When they ran into influential shops, they had to rely on Lu Feng to help mediate—very awkward.
Though Lu Feng wasn’t academically gifted, his connections were vast. He laughed and said, “No big deal, no big deal.”
Next, it was Du and Xue—Assistant Judges from the Court of Judicial Review. Lin Zongbai immediately berated them for constantly raiding the illegal gambling dens under his tavern every time the office was low on funds.
Pouring himself tea, he asked,
“How do you always manage to accurately find the underground casinos I’ve set up?”
Du hesitated, glancing toward the person next to him—none other than the overseer of their entire office, Prince Panshan: Song Mi.
Lin Zongbai paused mid-pour, immediately understood, and gave Song Mi a friendly punch.
“You really know how to bleed your own brothers to plug your own budget holes, huh?”
Song Mi calmly took the teapot and refilled his cup.
“I’ve already gone easy on you.”
“Easy?” Lin Zongbai shot back. “You sure you’re not just fattening your wallet?”
Song Mi smirked.
“If you’ve got the guts, stop breaking the law.”
Lin Zongbai took a sip and almost choked. Half-laughing, half-serious, he said,
“If someone’s going to do these things anyway, it might as well be me. Makes it easier for you to send people after me every day.”
Song Mi nodded, raised his cup in toast. “Then don’t complain.”
Lin Zongbai rolled his eyes. “There are moments I really want to punch you.”
Song Mi replied nonchalantly, “Go ahead.”
“I wouldn’t dare. Beating a high official? I don’t want to go to jail.”
Everyone laughed at the exchange.
Song Mi subtly raised a brow, set down his cup, and glanced across the table—just in time to see Juchen trying not to laugh, covering her mouth, her eyes curling into crescent moons beside the princess.
Since no one expected him to attend, Song Mi quickly became the center of attention. With Lin Zongbai’s lead, the conversation naturally turned toward him.
Everyone shared memories, remembering how carefree he had been as a child. They all thought he would live out his life as the free-spirited “Wandering Prince.”
But now, he was already in the central government.
Song Mi gave a polite smile. “Not my choice. Please, take care of me.”
He remained charming and respectful, but still gave off the feeling of being distant—like someone drifting above the clouds, untouched by the world.
Everyone, finding him surprisingly approachable, talked more. But somehow, the topic shifted toward Juchen.
It started with one classmate recounting a time working in the Porcelain Town, where he saw Song Mi visiting one New Year’s Eve.
Back then, the Prince of Panshan didn’t enjoy celebrating alone or eating New Year’s dinner at the palace. He would often go traveling instead.
This classmate saw him trying pottery in a kiln that evening.
Hearing this, Xuyang smiled and recalled,
“Ah Chen loved pottery too when she was little.”
Everyone turned to Juchen in surprise.
As people joked and asked about her pottery process, Yuan Zheng stepped out briefly. When he returned, he held a four-inch porcelain figurine.
“She made this for me back then,” Yuan Zheng said with a proud grin, like a father showing off his child’s craft. “What do you think—doesn’t it look like me?”
It was a beautiful overglazed figurine, richly colored, full of depth, shining under the lamplight. The face and expression were vivid and lifelike.
Everyone gasped, shouting, “Looks just like the prince consort!”
Not to be outdone, Xuyang smiled and said,
“I have one too.”
She fetched hers, earning another round of applause.
Juchen blushed at their showboating. Lin Zongbai added,
“I have one too.”
Juchen quickly stopped him from going home to retrieve it, flustered. “Let’s not show them all, please!”
He gave up—but the topic refused to die. Instead, it snowballed.
All who had studied at the academy fondly recalled receiving one of her porcelain figurines.
Lu Feng added, “Wait—so everyone got one?”
Du chimed in, “Yup. I’ve still got mine displayed in my bedroom cabinet. It’s lovely.”
Just as everyone was gushing—
Song Mi suddenly spoke:
“I don’t have one.”
The atmosphere instantly froze.
In the silence, every eye turned to Juchen.
Juchen: “……”