In the courtyard of the Qin Prince's Mansion.
Song Shihuan was intently practicing her martial arts, her punches sharp and fierce, a stark contrast to her petite frame.
Though slender, she was far from weak.
Nearby, Song Yu stood frozen in place, mouth slightly agape, involuntarily taking a few steps back.
In an instant, Song Shihuan's fist shot toward Song Yu, stopping just a hair's breadth from the tip of his nose.
Song Yu's breath grew shallow, and he swallowed hard.
Had he somehow offended this little one?
Song Shihuan gave Song Yu a deep look before calmly withdrawing her fist. "Father, I hope I didn't hurt you?"
She had been in the Qin Prince's Mansion for five days now and had mostly grasped the situation there.
The unused courtyards were filled with wine barrels, the study was overgrown with weeds, and the capital's most famous opera troupe performed in the mansion every ten days or so...
Even the maids and servants seemed to answer to unknown masters. The grand Qin Prince's Mansion was as porous as a sieve. The esteemed Prince of Qin himself had only a Nanny and an Old Steward who truly knew his affairs. After reviewing the mansion's accounts, she found the surface records flawless, but the actual deficits were staggering.
Her father truly lived up to his reputation as a wastrel.
"N-no, not at all," Song Yu said, rubbing his nose. "Ah-Huan, I was just about to leave the mansion. Is there anything you'd like me to bring back for you?"
As he spoke, Song Yu edged backward, as if desperate to vanish from her sight.
"Wait."
Song Shihuan's voice was unhurried, and Song Yu stiffened mid-step, shooting a glare at the Old Steward.
He had planned to slip out unnoticed, as he had the past four days, but this meddling old servant had persuaded him to visit, painting the girl as pitiful—longing day and night for a glimpse of him.
And what happened?
She nearly punched his soul out of his body.
"Father, are you off to watch cockfights, cricket fights, or perhaps taking the mansion's wine to Liuyun Pavilion for a drink?" Song Shihuan asked, accepting a handkerchief from the Nanny to wipe her sweat.
Song Yu bristled as if his tail had been stepped on. The Nanny had betrayed him!
The Nanny and Old Steward exchanged a glance, choosing to ignore Song Yu's dagger-like glare.
Though the Princess had only just arrived, they could see she was shrewd and shared the prince's fortunes. If she could rein him in, they would be overjoyed.
So they had laid bare the mansion's affairs—including the prince's whereabouts—without holding back.
Song Yu flushed but couldn't refute her.
Noticing this, Song Shihuan slowly lowered her head.
When she looked up again, her eyes were red-rimmed. "Father, are crickets really more important than Ah-Huan?"
Song Yu panicked.
He had misjudged the old servant—the girl truly missed him.
"Of course not! Ah-Huan is a thousand times more important than crickets!" Song Yu straightened his spine, thumping his chest. "I never speak empty words."
Tears rolled down her cheeks as Song Shihuan clutched the handkerchief, looking utterly pitiful. "I don’t believe you. Yesterday, I wanted to see the crickets you keep, but Nanny stopped me, saying you forbade anyone from touching them."
Damn it—he had given that order.
Flustered, Song Yu dabbed at her tears. As they threatened to become a flood, he steeled himself. "Someone! Throw out every last cricket!"
"Ah-Huan, don’t cry. Those crickets mean nothing to me," he said, forcing a smile while his heart bled for his cherished companions.
But Song Shihuan sniffled. "Not just the crickets... also the fighting cocks... and the wine."
It felt like the King of Hell was calling his name.
Song Yu's heart trembled.
"I know—these past few days, Father avoided me because of them." She tugged at his sleeve, smearing snot and tears on it. "The Crown Prince and Crown Princess already dislike me. Does Father hate me too?"
"I’m just an unwanted child."
Ah, it was true. Ah-Huan had suffered for ten years without her parents' love. Now that she was here, he had neglected her for days, leaving her to the Nanny.
How shameful!
For the first time, Song Yu felt guilty for prioritizing amusement over duty.
In the past, amusement was his duty.
"Someone! Slaughter all those roosters for the Princess's lunch—make her a nourishing soup!" Song Yu declared through gritted teeth.
"And those wine barrels—they’re an eyesore. Get rid of them!"
The Nanny and Old Steward stood dumbfounded, as if witnessing a miracle.
Song Yu bent down, coaxing the little girl. "Don’t cry, don’t cry. Your eyes will swell."
After a while, Song Shihuan finally whimpered that she was tired.
The Nanny carefully removed her shoes and socks, treating her like royalty.
Song Yu sat by the bed, watching her breathing steady, then tucked her in before quietly leaving.
"Nanny, Ah-Huan’s eyes were still red. I hope they don’t hurt when she wakes," Song Yu fretted. "Raising a daughter requires such care."
"Girls are made of water, let alone our precious Princess," the Nanny replied, inwardly overjoyed but outwardly composed.
The Late Empress must be watching over them—her prince was finally turning over a new leaf!
Even the Emperor’s countless scoldings had achieved nothing, only prompting Song Yu to acquire more roosters.
Yet today, after one crying fit from the Princess, he’d voluntarily sacrificed his treasures.
The Princess was a miracle worker!
"My Ah-Huan is perfect in every way—just a bit too clingy," Song Yu sighed.
Only four days apart, and she had wept so bitterly. A daughter’s attachment was a sweet burden.
What was he to do?
He couldn’t possibly take her everywhere—Yingchun Pavilion, Liuyun Pavilion, Wenji Alley...
Ugh.
Song Yu shook his head. Those were no places for Ah-Huan!
He had only one daughter—he couldn’t let such dens corrupt her.
Outside, Song Yu’s expression cycled between worry and stern resolve.
Inside, Song Shihuan opened her eyes—clear and alert, without a trace of drowsiness.
Today’s events would soon reach every spy in the capital.
Would the Eastern Palace and the stepmother Empress remain composed?
A faint smile curved her lips. She feared neither open attacks nor hidden schemes.
This was only the beginning.
