In the gentle warmth of March, with spring in full bloom and scenery radiant, the Eastern Gallery of Wenhua Palace stood in serene silence. Crown Prince Xiao Qi'an, clad in a dark cyan robe embroidered with serpent motifs, exuded an air of aloofness, his posture as straight as a pine tree. His slender fingers leisurely turned the pages of a scripture.
Before long, the quiet of the palace was abruptly broken by a burst of laughter and chatter outside. The attendants exchanged uneasy glances, stealing cautious looks at the prince’s expression—only to see his brow furrow slightly.
Everyone in attendance held their breath, careful not to make the slightest noise, lest they disturb the prince’s tranquility. Yet someone dared to cause a commotion in Wenhua Palace—such audacity.
The prince set down the scripture and turned to his attendant, Deshun. "What is all this noise?"
Deshun had already learned that today was the day the companions of Princess Xuanhe and Princess Wanning were to enter the palace. He answered truthfully, "His Majesty and Her Majesty, fearing the princesses might grow lonely in the palace, have selected six noble young ladies from distinguished families to serve as their companions. It seems the girls are now amusing themselves with the princesses."
Xiao Qi'an showed little interest, but then he caught Deshun’s barely audible mutter—words the attendant dared not voice aloud.
"And incidentally, to find you a bride."
Xiao Qi'an: "..."
From childhood, he had possessed the uncanny ability to read minds. Those who harbored ill intentions or spoke honeyed words with hidden daggers were like open books before him, their true natures laid bare.
The thoughts of those around him were equally transparent.
Upon discerning his parents’ intentions, the prince sighed inwardly.
Burdened with the weight of the empire’s responsibilities, he had little interest in romantic entanglements. Though his parents never voiced it aloud, their thoughts betrayed their concern—they found him too rigid and old-fashioned, and they were eager to see him wed, as though fearing he would remain a solitary figure for life.
To temper his reticent and solemn demeanor, they had not only arranged for his two younger sisters to study in Wenhua Palace, where they could seek his guidance, but now also brought in a group of companions…
The sound of laughter outside made the prince press a hand to his temple, where a vein throbbed faintly.
He rose to return to the Eastern Palace. As he stepped onto the veranda, he caught sight of several young ladies in colorful silk dresses frolicking in the garden, chasing butterflies and admiring flowers.
Deshun cleared his throat softly.
The noble ladies turned at the sound, their eyes landing on the figure standing beneath the grand eaves of the palace. Clad in dark cyan robes, his bearing was majestic, his presence as imposing as a solitary pine. His sharp features—arched brows, phoenix eyes, and thin lips pressed into a stern line—exuded an aura of icy detachment that kept others at bay, even without a single word spoken.
At the forefront was Cai Yishu, the second daughter of Grand Secretary Cai Heng. She curtsied gracefully. "This humble subject greets Your Highness."
Beside her, the daughter of the Minister of Rites also bowed. "May Your Highness be blessed with peace and prosperity."
Princess Xuanhe, lively and charming, chirped, "Hello, Eldest Brother."
Princess Wanning, gentle and demure, echoed, "Hello, Eldest Brother."
The prince gave a slight nod.
Then, from the side, a young girl clutching a butterfly net—still disheveled from her play—hurriedly followed Princess Wanning’s lead. "Hello, Eldest Brother—"
Before she could finish, the prince’s frown deepened.
All eyes turned to her in surprise.
The girl in the pink dress suddenly realized her blunder, her face flushing crimson. Her tongue tied in nervousness. "I—this humble subject misspoke—Your Highness—"
The prince took in her flustered reaction, his expression cool.
"Oh heavens, if I were her, I’d want to die of shame."
"How utterly embarrassing."
"Aaaaah, is there a hole I can crawl into?!"
Xiao Qi'an’s brow creased further. "Rise," he said tersely.
Without another word, he strode out of Wenhua Palace.
The noble ladies watched his retreating figure, their thoughts a whirlwind.
The Crown Prince of Dazhao had always been known for his aloof and disciplined nature—flawless in both appearance and capability, yet distant and unapproachable. His strict adherence to propriety and indifference to women made him an intimidating figure.
They all understood the unspoken purpose of their selection as the princesses’ companions: Empress Dowager’s subtle attempt to facilitate their interactions with the prince.
The position of Crown Princess was undeniably alluring, but the prospect of spending decades with such a cold and unromantic husband gave them pause. Though curiosity and ambition stirred, fear outweighed their courage.
Princess Xuanhe broke the silence. "Yunkui, don’t take it to heart. Eldest Brother is like that with everyone—he won’t hold it against you."
The girl in the pink-and-green floral dress—Sheng Yunkui, the only daughter of the Marquis of Wuning—nodded. "Mm-hmm."
After all, this wasn’t the first time she’d embarrassed herself in front of the Crown Prince. She was used to it.
Princess Xuanhe continued cheerfully, "As we agreed earlier, for Mother’s fortieth birthday at the end of the month, foreign envoys will also come to offer congratulations. We’ll all sit together and make it lively…"
The others murmured in agreement.
On the fifth and tenth days of each month, the prince would dine with the Empress Dowager in Kunning Palace. Today was no exception.
The Empress observed her son—sitting rigidly upright, his every movement a model of royal etiquette, never taking more than three bites of any dish, never indulging beyond five flavors—and sighed inwardly.
"Did you meet the companions chosen for Wanning and Xuanhe today?"
The prince nearly reminded her of the rule against speaking during meals but restrained himself. Setting down his chopsticks, he replied, "Yes."
The Empress smiled. "What do you think?"
"Your Majesty’s concern for the princesses’ companionship is understandable," he said evenly. "However, holding their gatherings in Wenhua Palace may disrupt the scholars’ lectures."
The Empress pressed, "And?"
After a pause, the prince recalled the girl in pink and green—her face smudged like a kitten’s. "As for the others, I cannot say. But the Marquis of Wuning’s daughter is particularly unruly and lacking in scholarly pursuits. How could she be fit to serve as a companion?"
The Empress chuckled. "The Marquis and Marchioness Wuning dote on their only child, especially after the difficulties during her birth. Though her skills in the arts may be lacking, she is clever and endearingly spirited. I quite like her."
"More importantly, your father believes that as long as she’s around, Xuanhe won’t rank last in her studies—at least preserving some dignity for the royal family."
Xiao Qi'an: "..."
Noticing his reaction, the Empress’s eyes sparkled with interest. "Out of the six girls you saw today, you only mentioned her. Could it be—?"
The prince cut her off, his voice cool. "Your Majesty should refrain from speculation."
The Empress sighed in resignation.
She and Emperor Jingyou had only this one son, raised from birth to be the perfect heir. He had exceeded all expectations—mastering classics and history, discerning the truth in complex cases, and handling state affairs with precision. At sixteen, he had led fifty thousand soldiers to repel three hundred thousand troops of the Northern Wei, earning universal acclaim as the model crown prince.
Yet over time, this had forged a man of rigid discipline—his mind occupied solely by governance and military strategy, his demeanor so severe that even his younger sisters dared not approach him.
The Empress often reproached herself for placing the heavy burden of the state upon him too early, molding him into someone so extreme that even if he were to marry in the future, a lifetime of mere mutual respect would hold little joy.
Both she and Emperor Jingyou were confident in the Crown Prince’s capabilities—so much so that they could entrust the empire to him at any moment. Yet, as parents, they also wished for his happiness, hoping he would find a wife who could harmonize with him like paired instruments, accompanying him through life.
Hearing his mother’s thoughts, the Crown Prince remained silent for a moment before replying, “I have no particular requirements for the Crown Princess. As long as she is dignified and virtuous, Your Majesty may arrange it as you see fit.”
The Empress wanted his opinion, yet feared he might accept anyone.
Fortunately, her birthday was approaching. By inviting noblewomen with eligible daughters to the palace for an audience, they could soon settle on a candidate.
On the twenty-eighth day of the third month, the Empress celebrated her birthday.
Emperor Jingyou and the Empress shared a deep and devoted bond, leaving the imperial harem empty as he cherished her alone—a love story passed down as legend.
For the Empress’s fortieth birthday, the Imperial Household Department had begun preparations at the start of the year. Tonight, the Fengtian Palace was adorned inside and out with lanterns and decorations. Along the embroidered longevity-patterned carpets, a thousand peonies bloomed in splendid clusters, their beauty unmatched. The palace’s crystal lamps illuminated the grand hall in dazzling golden splendor.
By the hour of Shen, carriages and horses had already crowded outside the palace gates, among them the carriage of the Marchioness Wuning.
A young girl in a water-red ruqun embroidered with four auspicious ruyi patterns stepped down first, lifting her skirt, followed by a young woman in a pale green beizi with winding vine motifs.
As the mother and daughter made their way to Fengtian Palace, Marchioness Wuning reminded her daughter, “Today, Their Majesties and envoys from neighboring countries will be at the banquet. Once you’re seated beside Princess Xuanhe, do not cause trouble or make noise. If you see the envoys from Xiliang, do not whisper or gossip about them. Do you understand?”
Sheng Yunkui nodded earnestly. “I know, Mother! I’ll just quietly enjoy the feast and do nothing else!”
Marchioness Wuning sighed softly. Princess Xuanhe was playful by nature, and her daughter was cut from the same cloth. She couldn’t fathom why Their Majesties had chosen her daughter as the princess’s study companion. On such a grand occasion, Princess Xuanhe had insisted on having Yunkui by her side for amusement, and the Marchioness feared her daughter might stir up trouble.
“One more thing,” Marchioness Wuning added, recalling her husband’s mention that Their Majesties intended to select a Crown Princess from the eligible young ladies attending the banquet. “If you encounter His Highness the Crown Prince, you must greet him properly—no more embarrassing incidents.”
She still remembered when her daughter, at the tender age of five, had called the Crown Prince “handsome little brother,” turning his face as dark as spilled ink. At ten, Yunkui had sneaked fruit wine at a palace banquet, fallen asleep in the flower bushes, and was eventually found by the Crown Prince—only to drool all over his sleeve while deep in slumber. Truly, the past was too mortifying to revisit.
She didn’t expect her daughter to bring glory to the family or catch the eye of the Empress and Crown Prince. She only hoped Yunkui would behave herself and spare her some worry.
By the time the mother and daughter entered Fengtian Palace, most officials and their families had already arrived. From afar, Princess Xuanhe waved excitedly. “Yunkui!”
After bidding her mother farewell, Sheng Yunkui happily bounded over.
To her surprise, Princess Xuanhe’s seat was placed so close to the front—right near the Empress’s phoenix throne.
Of course, not just anyone could sit beside the princess. Princess Xuanhe had reserved the spot for her closest friend, knowing Yunkui’s lively and unrestrained nature matched her own perfectly.
Not long after Yunkui settled in beside Princess Xuanhe, she suddenly felt her breath hitch and a chill crawl down her spine.
Looking up, she saw the Crown Prince approaching in an imposing black-and-gold python robe, his tall and commanding figure taking the seat beside hers with an air of unquestionable authority.
Sheng Yunkui: “…”
No one had told her the empty seat next to her was the Crown Prince’s!
Still, she remembered her mother’s warnings and obediently rose to curtsy. “Your humble servant greets Your Highness.”
The Crown Prince glanced at her—only to hear her inner voice, starkly at odds with her demure appearance.
“Well, there goes my appetite for tonight.”
“With His Highness’s face being such a feast for the eyes, a few more glances and I’ll be full.”
