"Why aren't you saying anything?"
After a while, Pei Lingyue broke the silence between them, his tone laced with a hint of teasing. "Are you moved by me? I never imagined love could change a man like me into this unrecognizable version of myself."
Pei Chiyan remained calm. "I was just wondering if Father had been possessed by Grandfather. Should we call someone to perform an exorcism?"
Hearing those words, Pei Chiyan wished he hadn’t. It felt like being struck by lightning—his entire body went numb.
Pei Lingyue’s expression twisted in pain at the mention of his detestable father. "Don’t say such unlucky things."
He hated being compared to his father—it felt like an insult he couldn’t refute. After all, as the emperor, how could he set an example of filial impiety?
Seeing his father’s reaction, a faint smile flickered in Pei Chiyan’s eyes. "You started it. That kind of talk doesn’t suit you."
Pei Lingyue knew his forced "devoted lover" act might fool others, but never Chiyan. If it were Pei Yao, he might have bought it.
"So, what’s the real reason? There’s no need to put Imperial Consort Hui in danger. If this spreads, it’ll damage her reputation."
Pei Lingyue couldn’t reveal the existence of the divine system to his son. After a brief pause, he replied dismissively, "Such incidents will only increase. Those foreigners will resort to any means—unlike us in Great Qi, who understand propriety. I want Imperial Consort Hui to grow accustomed to it. The more she sees, the harder it’ll be to tempt her."
"Blocking isn’t as effective as diverting."
Hearing this phrase used in such a context, Pei Chiyan found it both absurd and amusing.
"To me, Imperial Consort Hui’s importance far surpasses countless others. As a divine maiden, if she wanted a harem, that would be acceptable."
As long as the system offered generous rewards, those power-hungry ministers would surely agree—after all, it wasn’t their wives straying. Hmph. They’d probably even enjoy watching him become a laughingstock.
Pei Lingyue had a good grasp of his ministers’ thoughts.
Pei Chiyan wasn’t sure if his father had been so provoked by the foreigners’ brazen advances that he was now spouting nonsense—even mentioning a "harem."
"I’ll make sure she knows I can grant her more freedom… as long as she stays in Great Qi."
This time, for the reward, he’d personally delivered the foreigners to Yu Miaohua.
Noticing his son’s distant gaze—clearly zoning out—Pei Lingyue finally cut to the chase after rambling for so long.
"Since the foreigners are going all out, Great Qi can’t afford to lose. If Imperial Consort Hui is truly lured away, what face would our imperial family have left?"
A sense of unease crept over Pei Chiyan—was his father about to select male consorts for her from the commoners? If word got out, the historians would surely record it. He couldn’t even imagine how future generations would view his father.
"Crown Prince, you are the heir I hold in the highest regard. Whether through seduction or sheer charisma, you must ensure Imperial Consort Hui’s heart remains with the Great Qi imperial family."
"Pei Yuheng has long admired her, and the Prince of Feng’s estate also eyes her covetously. I’ve spent my life outmaneuvering Pei Lingyou—I can’t lose to him in this."
Pei Lingyue’s voice was firm, his burning gaze fixed on the Crown Prince. He even placed his hands on Chiyan’s shoulders, gripping slightly, as if to convey his unwavering resolve.
Pei Chiyan knew his father occasionally had outrageous ideas, but this was beyond absurd.
His face went blank.
"I wanted to find someone more suitable… but after careful consideration, they all had flaws. None compare to your perfection."
He’d raised the Crown Prince too well—so well that even the divine system took notice.
Pei Chiyan met his father’s eyes and realized he was dead serious.
After a moment, he averted his gaze, bowed, and said calmly, "I’ll go fetch Imperial Physician Zhang."
Perhaps the heat had gotten to his father, making him delirious.
Pei Lingyue watched his son leave with an impassive expression—though the Crown Prince didn’t realize his stiff, unnatural gait betrayed his true feelings.
His composure was entirely feigned.
Pei Lingyue took a slow sip of tea.
He’d already administered a heavy dose. The rest could be handled gradually.
With the gunpowder formula secured, he was feeling rather composed.
He wondered if Imperial Consort Hui had completed her mission yet.
A thousand heavenly horses… Even the foreigners didn’t have that many. If they ever learned the truth, they’d cough up blood in fury.
......
"Are you truly unwilling to leave with us?" The foreign prince gazed at her with sorrowful eyes.
His naturally expressive gaze, paired with such melancholy, was devastatingly persuasive—enough to make one want to fulfill his every wish.
Yu Miaohua replied earnestly, "I won’t leave. But I do appreciate your affection and admiration."
Though she knew full well their "affection" was for the endless auspicious signs and treasures she brought forth.
"Even if we gave you everything, you still wouldn’t come?" The prince tugged at his collar—time to bare some skin.
Yu Miaohua quickly stopped him. "Enough. The more you show, the less valuable it becomes."
"A man is most attractive when he’s unaware of his own charm. Flaunting it just makes you seem greasy—like overeating fatty meat. It’s nauseating. Understand?"
After binge-watching videos with the system, Yu Miaohua had grown rather detached from such displays. The prince’s earlier sorrowful gaze had been perfect—fragile and rare. A little rain would’ve added to the aesthetic.
Prince Ceren caught on quickly. "You prefer them well-covered."
A miscalculation. Next time, he’d experiment with different styles.
"She doesn’t prefer them covered. She just doesn’t like you."
A tall, poised figure strode in, his calm expression giving nothing away. The Crown Prince entered alone, with no attendants in tow.
[Oh my god, the Crown Prince is here!! Is this the long-awaited showdown? Fight! Fight! Fight!]
The system, ever the troublemaker, was practically squealing with excitement.
At the sight of the Crown Prince, Yu Miaohua felt a pang of guilt—as if caught in an affair. Wait, why should she feel guilty? She’d just resisted a massive temptation! Great Qi ought to award her a "Loyalty Medal."
She was pondering whether she should take the initiative to clarify her relationship with the Prairie Prince when Pei Chiyan gently said to her, "Don’t worry. I heard you reject him."
Yu Miaohua let out a sigh of relief, then blurted out, "What if I hadn’t refused?"
Pei Chiyan fell silent for a moment before replying, "If you hadn’t refused, it would’ve just been a mistake that most people would make."
Yu Miaohua nodded—exactly.
His gaze landed on the monk’s robe worn by the Prairie Prince, Ceren. Pei Chiyan’s lips curled slightly, his eyes sharp as a blade. "The Prince has quite the leisure, finding time to play monk."
Ceren smiled faintly, his expression carrying a hint of provocation. "The Divine Maiden is the most important matter. For her, I’d not only become a monk but even a Taoist priest if needed."
He wasn’t surprised that the Crown Prince of Great Qi had uncovered his identity.
"She is the Divine Maiden of Great Qi."
"For now, yes. But that doesn’t mean she always will be." Ceren glanced at Yu Miaohua and sighed. "We are truly sincere. If the Divine Maiden ever changes her mind, the grasslands welcome her to abandon the darkness for the light."
"Go dream some more. Dreams are where you’ll find everything you want," Pei Chiyan said coldly, his eyes carrying a murderous edge.
Ceren’s lips curved. "The grasslands can offer the Divine Maiden far more than Great Qi ever could. Your Great Qi is far too stingy."
"If the Divine Maiden is willing, she may choose any of us brothers. As princes, we would consider it an honor to serve her. Can Great Qi do the same?"
This time, only he and his second brother had come. Next time, he’d bring all his brothers. Perhaps the Divine Maiden simply didn’t fancy his type. No matter—his imperial father had many sons.
With those words, Ceren swaggered away.
Since the people of Great Qi knew his identity and hadn’t done anything to him, what was there to fear?
After Ceren left, the room fell into silence.
A moment later, Pei Chiyan spoke up. "Consort Hui must be shaken after today’s events. Perhaps you should return to Guanju Palace to rest?"
Yu Miaohua studied his calm expression—he didn’t seem like he was planning to settle scores later. She nodded. "Alright."
She wondered if the Crown Prince would report today’s incident to the Emperor.
As if reading her thoughts, Pei Chiyan offered a brief explanation to reassure her. "His Majesty has long known of their intentions. He worried that continued resistance would only provoke them to escalate matters, harming your reputation. That’s why he allowed them this opportunity."
So that was it.
Yu Miaohua suddenly understood. No wonder the Empress Dowager had pretended to be exhausted—she’d even snored!
Recalling her own performance, she felt she’d done splendidly, without a single misstep.
A bright smile spread across her face. "Then I’ll take my leave."
Pei Chiyan watched as she instantly shed her worries, carefree once more, and couldn’t help but smirk.
She really was carefree.
After Yu Miaohua left, Pei Chiyan turned toward the inner chamber. "Has Her Majesty the Empress Dowager awakened?"
The Empress Dowager’s voice drifted out, faintly amused. "Not long ago."
Ah, her grandson gave her no face at all.
Miaohua was much more considerate. If it were her, she’d surely offer a graceful way out.
The Empress Dowager had indeed fallen asleep at first, but she’d woken shortly after and overheard most of the conversation.
Well, this was just as well. If anyone ever used this incident to attack Miaohua, she could bear witness. So she made no effort to hide that she’d been awake the whole time.
A short while later, the Empress Dowager emerged from the inner chamber.
She said to her grandson, "If I were forty years younger, I might not have been able to refuse the Prairie Prince’s generous offer. Miaohua’s will is remarkably firm."
Her child would be the next king, with all the princes at her disposal—even the option of a harem. What woman wouldn’t be tempted?
Yet Miaohua had refused. Surely it was for their sake.
The more the Empress Dowager thought about it, the more moved she became.
If Yu Miaohua knew her thoughts, she’d surely marvel—this was what they called self-persuasion.
Pei Chiyan nearly laughed. His grandmother truly adored Yu Miaohua, even going so far as to belittle her younger self to praise her.
"I know. It’s all just the grasslands’ wishful thinking."
The Empress Dowager nodded in satisfaction. "Good that you understand."
Noticing her grandson’s pensive expression, she asked with concern, "What’s wrong? Are you unwell? Should I summon Imperial Physician Zhang?"
Though Yu Miaohua was now the Empress Dowager’s treasure, Pei Chiyan still held a high place in her heart as her eldest grandson.
Pei Chiyan hesitated. With anyone else, he’d worry they might exploit the situation. But his grandmother was the only one he could confide in.
"His Majesty wishes for me to… entice Consort Hui."
The Empress Dowager’s lips twitched—the Emperor had already spoken of this?
Pei Chiyan narrowed his eyes. "Grandmother doesn’t seem the least bit surprised."
When he’d first heard it, he’d thought his father had suffered a heatstroke.
Wait—was his father not the only one with this idea?
The Empress Dowager cleared her throat. "It’s for the sake of Great Qi. We cannot afford to lose Miaohua."
"Besides, as a Divine Maiden, it’s only fitting she has several Divine Consorts. If their status is too low, they’d be unworthy of her."
Pei Chiyan’s face went blank. If he wasn’t mistaken, his grandmother meant that his noble status made him a suitable candidate for Divine Consort.
Divine Consort.
The mere thought of the term filled him with absurdity.
Meeting his grandmother’s gaze, Pei Chiyan confirmed—yes, that was exactly what she meant.
He hadn’t misunderstood.
The Empress Dowager said calmly, "Enough. You’re nearly twenty, yet you’re still so easily startled. This is just a trivial matter. You still have much to learn."
Pei Chiyan was at a loss for words. Since when was this a trivial matter?
But his grandmother’s expression was so composed, as if this were as ordinary as eating or drinking, that for a moment, he even doubted himself—was he truly overreacting?
Having confirmed his grandmother’s stance, he took his leave.
As he stepped over the threshold, his grandmother’s words echoed in his mind.
Several Divine Consorts?
So his father and grandmother meant that he wasn’t the only candidate—there were others?
He recalled his father mentioning Pei Yuheng earlier.
Surely Pei Yuheng wasn’t also one of their choices?
No wonder his father had kept Pei Yuheng in the palace—not for atonement or as a hostage (the Prince of Feng’s line no longer posed a threat), but as a backup Divine Consort.
What was the selection criteria, then? Looks?
The absurdity of it all left Pei Chiyan more amused than angry or confused.
If it had to be someone, better him than Pei Yuheng.
His steps faltered, his expression shifting.
How had he let his father and grandmother lead him so far astray that he was actually considering it?
That evening, Pei Chiyan dined with his mother, the Empress.
The Empress had long known from the Emperor that he had administered a heavy dose of medicine today. Yang Zhaopei, on the other hand, had guessed some of the Emperor's intentions. After all, the people from the grasslands had practically delivered themselves to their doorstep—naturally, the Emperor wouldn’t let such an opportunity slip away.
Watching her son eat sparingly during dinner, she signaled for the palace attendants to withdraw before asking knowingly, "Does tonight’s meal not suit your taste?"
Pei Chiyan shook his head. "The stir-fried shrimp is quite good—no trace of fishiness at all."
Yang Zhaopei deliberately remarked, "This recipe was sent over by Miaohua. I thought it was delicious and guessed you’d like it too."
With a clatter, Pei Chiyan’s silver chopsticks fell to the floor.
A nostalgic expression crossed Yang Zhaopei’s face—ever since her son had been crowned Crown Prince, he had held himself to higher standards and grown increasingly adept at masking his thoughts.
Her voice carried a hint of amusement. "Did your hand slip?"
"Or was it because I mentioned Miaohua?"
Pei Chiyan realized something… Ever since Yu Miaohua entered the palace, not only had his father become oddly unpredictable, but his mother had also grown livelier—even to the point of teasing him.
Wait…
An absurd suspicion surfaced in his mind.
Could his mother also be privy to his father’s plans?
He bent to pick up the chopsticks—using the motion to steady his emotions.
With a sigh, he muttered, "Divine intervention."
The Empress averted her gaze for a fleeting moment—after all, the gods had been exceedingly generous.
Pei Chiyan was now certain: his mother knew.
The fog in his mind cleared as if swept away by a breeze, revealing a thread that connected all the dots.
Both his mother and father had spent their days singing Yu Miaohua’s praises in front of him, as if fearing he might misunderstand her. In truth, even without their efforts, he could never dislike her. How could anyone dislike someone so genuine?
His mother, who rarely stepped into the kitchen, had personally prepared pastries—and even involved Yu Miaohua in the process. The portion he had tasted back then was likely made by Miaohua herself, though she probably remained unaware of the scheme.
As for his father, he had tasked Pei Chiyan with accompanying Yu Miaohua to shield her from any ill-intentioned outsiders.
Pei Chiyan: "…"
His family members were far too resourceful—and far too proactive.
The Empress coughed lightly. "Enough. Don’t overthink it. Just let things unfold naturally."
Still, knowing the Emperor as she did, she was certain that once a new "mission" arose, he would stop at nothing to orchestrate a match.
Well, they had already given Chiyan a heads-up today. A few more nudges, and he’d surely grow accustomed to it eventually.
With that comforting thought, the Empress returned to her meal in peace.
---
After completing her task of rejecting the grassland prince, Yu Miaohua remained in the palace, occasionally venturing out to visit the Jiang residence.
Of course, she didn’t forget to hand over the map marking the location of a thousand Ferghana horses to Pei Lingyue, claiming she had found it by her pillow upon waking—with the valley where the horses were kept clearly circled.
[Host, your excuses are getting lazier by the day.]
[As long as it works!]
She couldn’t be bothered to credit the Pei ancestors in the ancestral temple for the map.
Her mother’s birthday fell in July, and Yu Miaohua pondered what gift would be most fitting. Last year, she had still been confined to the cold palace, and her mother had likely been too worried to celebrate properly. This year, she was determined to make up for it.
Her mother had always adored exquisite glasswork.
Hmm… The glass screen stored in her treasury could be gifted to her.
At this time, glass was largely imported and exorbitantly priced.
Yu Miaohua had long forgotten most of the knowledge from her past life—otherwise, she could have drafted a glassmaking recipe and commissioned a custom set of pieces tailored to her mother’s tastes.
After a moment’s thought, inspiration struck.
Her mother had been a skilled painter in her youth, but after marriage and motherhood, her responsibilities had gradually eclipsed her hobby.
Women of this era had sacrificed much for their families.
Yu Miaohua recalled the paintings her mother kept carefully preserved in a chest—treasures she cherished deeply.
Glass might be out of reach for now, but she could use those paintings as inspiration for a set of fine porcelain.
This plan, however, required her younger sister’s cooperation to discreetly transport the paintings out.
Of course, entrusting the originals to the imperial kiln carried risks—what if the artisans accidentally damaged them?
Then it came to her: she could have the paintings copied first before sending the replicas to the kiln.
Producing a batch of porcelain took at least five days, and she’d need time to refine the designs based on the initial results. She’d have to act quickly.
Yu Miaohua decided to seek the Emperor’s permission for a private kiln firing.
To Pei Lingyue, her request was a trivial favor, and he granted her a token without hesitation.
She then summoned her sister, Yu Miaoping, to the palace.
The two swiftly conspired, smuggling the chest of paintings out.
Originally, Yu Miaohua had intended to ask her mentor, Zhang Changying, to handle the reproductions. But when Jiang Kangyou caught wind of the plan, he immediately volunteered Shen Sushang for the task.
"Let your shidi handle it. He owes you for that batch of fine paper you gave him—it’s time he repaid the favor."
Shen Sushang’s painting skills were exceptional, so Yu Miaohua had no doubts about his ability. Still…
"Won’t this interfere with his official duties?"
Jiang Kangyou waved off her concern. "Not at all. He’s had plenty of free time lately."
His earnest demeanor convinced her. "Alright."
After months of interaction—and the incident with the green chrysanthemums—Yu Miaohua and Shen Sushang had settled into a comfortable, natural dynamic as senior and junior disciples. The only disruption came from her system’s occasional outbursts: "I’m dying of sweetness," "Perfect match," "I’ll fetch the marriage registry for you," and other such nonsense she had learned to tune out.
True to his word, Shen Sushang delivered the replicated paintings three days later—each an impeccable duplicate.
"They’re identical! You’re incredible." Truly worthy of being the Emperor’s appointed painter—royal standards never disappointed!
Shen Sushang demurred, "Many could do the same, perhaps even better."
Yu Miaohua disagreed. "That’s excessive modesty. You’re exceptionally talented—brilliant in scholarship and gifted in art. How can anyone be this remarkable?"
In her buoyant mood, she showered him with praise without reservation.
Shen Sushang was unaccustomed to such open, enthusiastic admiration. Flustered yet undeniably pleased, he couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at his lips.
Clutching the paintings, Yu Miaohua beamed.
Perfect—no time like the present. She’d head to the imperial kiln today!
Jiang Kangyou interjected, "Have your shidi accompany you. The kiln is full of men—best avoid any accidental impropriety."
It was a flimsy pretext.
With armed guards escorting her everywhere, who would dare offend her?
But Yu Miaohua saw the wisdom in his suggestion. Her own painting skills were rudimentary—she needed an expert to communicate her vision to the artisans.
"Agreed!"
But before that, let’s first take the official route through the Emperor.
Pei Lingyue naturally wouldn’t refuse and even issued an edict to Shen Sushang.
...
After finishing his recent official duties, Pei Chiyan heard that the Empress Dowager had lost her appetite and went to the Palace of Tranquil Longevity to check on her.
Nanny Zhou said softly, "Her Highness has no health issues—it’s just the summer heat affecting her appetite. Usually, Consort Hui often dines with Her Highness, and for her sake, Her Highness would eat a little more. But lately, Consort Hui has been busy with affairs and frequently leaves the palace."
Pei Chiyan asked, "Is Consort Hui still studying painting with Master Zhang?"
He remembered that when she went to Yunji Temple, it was supposedly to see the thousand-petal lotus for her artwork. But since she never mentioned it afterward—it was likely just an excuse to leave the palace.
Following the Empress Dowager’s instructions, Nanny Zhou repeated verbatim, "Lady Cihui’s birthday is approaching, and Consort Hui wants to fire a few kilns of porcelain. Today, she went to the official kilns. The Emperor even issued an edict for Lord Shen to accompany her."
Lady Cihui was Yu Miaohua’s mother.
Pei Chiyan frowned. "Shen Sushang?"
Shen Sushang was the last disciple of Grand Preceptor Jiang...
Did Yu Miaohua really need him to accompany her to the kilns?
First, Grand Preceptor Jiang was persuaded to take Shen Sushang as a disciple, then Master Zhang accepted Yu Miaohua as his student—creating a plausible reason for the two to interact.
His father had even jokingly referred to Shen Sushang as Yu Miaohua’s junior brother in public.
The Emperor’s mind was as deep and unfathomable as the ocean. He wouldn’t casually make such remarks. Normally, he never revealed his true emotions—what he showed was only what he wanted others to see.
Even back then, allowing Shen Sushang to enter the ancestral temple with them was highly unusual.
Him, Pei Yuheng, and Shen Sushang... the three of them accompanied Yu Miaohua into the ancestral temple together. The Emperor, who should have been the one to go, made an excuse to avoid it—almost as if he was deliberately creating opportunities for them.
So the one who dug that pit... was his father. The nomads were just scapegoats.
Pei Chiyan sighed—his father had been scheming since then.
At this point, his guesses for potential candidates as Yu Miaohua’s future husband included himself, Pei Yuheng, and Shen Sushang.
He wondered if more would be added later.
From a Buddhist perspective, seven was an auspicious number. Would there eventually be seven candidates?
In the past, he would have thought his father wouldn’t do something so absurd. But after overhearing the conversation at the inn, Pei Chiyan believed his father was capable of anything if it meant keeping Yu Miaohua in Great Qi.
Suppressing his wild speculations, Pei Chiyan smiled. "I’ll dine with Her Highness these next few days."
Nanny Zhou replied, "Your Highness’s filial piety will surely move Her Highness deeply."
The Empress Dowager, of course, had no objections.
Once Miaohua finished her tasks, she would undoubtedly come to keep her company. With her favorite non-blood-related junior on one side and her favorite grandson on the other—well, she could tell the Emperor not to bother joining her meals for a while.
These two treasures were enough for her.
After accompanying the Empress Dowager for a light meal, Pei Chiyan went straight to Pei Lingyue and said bluntly, "I’d like to visit the official kilns today."
If only Shen Sushang accompanied Yu Miaohua, it might spark gossip. But with him present, no one would dare say a word.
If his guess was correct, his father wouldn’t refuse.
Pei Lingyue looked pleased. "Granted."
He could guess his son’s intentions.
Coincidentally, Pei Yuheng had the same idea and had just requested permission.
As a fair and understanding elder, he naturally approved both requests.
Pei Lingyue was moved by his own impartiality.
Internally wailing: If only I could have seven! Nine would be even better!
