Chapter 16: Palace Banquet

In ancient times, publicly courting someone of high status was like a modern-day grand proposal—romantic to some, vulgar to others. It was a blatant display.

The object of Han Ji’s affections, Zhao Qin, remained cold and indifferent. But that changed quickly. A servant whispered in her ear; her expression hardened, and she crushed her wineglass. The emperor, who had been enjoying the spectacle, immediately suppressed his amusement. Zhao Qin’s demeanor shifted from merely disinterested to outright hostile.

She and the emperor were a formidable team—he forbearing, she aggressive. Their combined strength intimidated the aristocracy, who viewed the emperor as a puppet. Even Zhao Qin’s five dead husbands were largely ignored. Her beauty and sharp personality attracted men, fueling their desire to conquer her.

Han Ji played on, gazing expectantly at Zhao Qin, his smile unwavering. Zhao Qin remained impassive. His fingers bled as he played, his gentle facade cracking. Zhao Qin’s gaze was cold and piercing, exposing the falsity of his performance. The pressure was immense. This princess was far more terrifying than he’d imagined.

“…Feng Qiuhuang…” Zhao Qin finally spoke. “The tune is good, the skill is good. But the Han family is crumbling. You should stick to being a musician.”

The Han family patriarch remained unfazed; Zhao Qin’s insults were meaningless to him. But Han Ji felt the true weight of her words.

With a loud crash, Zhao Qin overturned the table. “The phoenix seeks the phoenix. This palace is the phoenix. Who gave you the audacity to call yourself one? A pheasant is a pheasant, no amount of phoenix feathers will change that!”

She stormed off. The Han patriarch patted his son’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. Zhao Qin has a fiery temper, but she’s fierce and interesting. You’ll see.”

Han Ji merely replied, “Yes.”

…

Leaving the banquet, Zhao Qin sought a secluded spot. “Give me the Jinling report,” she demanded. Her subordinates presented the documents. Zhao Qin scanned the report; even knowing the gist from her servant, the details made her face harden. “Ruyi—so bold,” she gritted out.

Dare to grab her Afu.

The Jinling report—Ruyi drugging Shen Fu and taking her to a secluded room for two hours—ignited Zhao Qin’s fury. She outwardly appeared irritable, but this was a carefully constructed facade, necessary for her dealings with the emperor. Shen Fu, however, was different. She was Zhao Qin’s weak point, and anyone who threatened her would face dire consequences. If Ruyi were present, Zhao Qin might kill her on the spot.

“Your Highness, shall we…?” The trusted subordinate mimed slitting a throat. Zhao Qin’s mind flashed with the thought of murder, but she composed herself. The rage remained, but the immediate urge to kill was suppressed.

“No, I’ll handle it myself,” she said. She couldn’t kill Ruyi. She knew Shen Fu’s stubbornness—like a bull headed for a wall. Ruyi was her friend, and Zhao Qin wouldn’t act against her until completely disillusioned. She shook her head, acknowledging her role in spoiling Ruyi. Tolerance didn’t mean ignoring Ruyi’s actions.

“Don’t kill her,” Zhao Qin said, “but take care of it.” Xiuchundao, experienced in such matters, simply replied, “Yes!”

…

After bidding farewell to Ruyi, Shen Fu left Jinling. Meanwhile, on South Street, a young scholar from the countryside, preparing for the imperial examinations, caught Chu Baige’s attention.

“Good thing you’re a woman,” Chu Baige remarked, studying Shen Fu’s male disguise. “Otherwise, you’d break a lot of hearts.” Shen Fu, impeccably disguised, smiled gently.

Shen Fu, fan in hand, smiled gently and elegantly, the picture of a scholar preparing for the imperial examinations. There was nothing about him to betray his true identity.

“Any luck in the past three days, Mr. Baige?” Shen Fu asked.

“Amazing,” Chu Baige said, still marveling at Shen Fu’s disguise. “It’s the same face, but a completely different person.”

In his two years in the arena, Chu Baige, a natural gossip, had encountered many masters of disguise, but none compared to Shen Fu. Her transformation was astonishing—a simple adjustment of eyebrows, lips, and clothing created a completely different person. He’d received her letter at the inn and been stunned by her disguise.

“I could teach you,” Shen Fu offered, “but I doubt you’d learn.”

“Forget talent,” Chu Baige scoffed, recalling his humiliating attempts to learn martial arts from Shen Fu. He’d been forced to become her student, and despite access to her training manuals, he’d only mastered light work. The rest was incomprehensible. It was a crushing blow to his years of training within the Chu family.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Who can compare to a monster? Shen Fu’s martial arts skills are amazing, but my writing is better.” That thought, at least, made him feel better.

“What do you have?” Shen Fu asked.

Chu Baige triumphantly produced a package of letters. “From my father’s secret room,” he said. “I’ll give them to you first.”

Shen Fu raised an eyebrow. “You trust me?”

“Of course,” Chu Baige said. “I know the Chu family best. And if they’re corrupt, I’ll be the first to help clean things up.”

Shen Fu saw his intelligence. His instincts were sharp. If he’d truly believed Xiuchun Dao was hunting them, he wouldn’t be so naive. Jinling’s calm spoke volumes.

“You’re wise,” Shen Fu said. Chu Baige, despite leaving the family, was still connected to it. His cooperation would ensure leniency during the emperor’s purge.

Shen Fu reassured him that if his family hadn’t committed treason, they would be safe. Chu Baige relaxed, even playfully bumping Shen Fu’s arm.

“I’m the eldest princess’s person,” Shen Fu said sharply. “Do you think she’d leave me unprotected?”

A thrown stone startled Chu Baige. He wasn’t alone. Shen Fu was shocked.