Chapter Twelve
Prince Wei flicked his fingers, granting the Chief Steward permission to enter.
The Chief Steward was pleasantly surprised. It had been a long time since he had been summoned into Prince Wei’s study—most often, he would simply report matters outside the door before being dismissed.
Noticing Prince Wei eating dried meat with a silver skewer, the Chief Steward’s face briefly registered astonishment, but he quickly masked it. Approaching cautiously, he presented the Yao family’s invitation with both hands.
Prince Wei did not take it, instead glancing at Cui Lanyin.
Was he signaling for her to receive it? "Please hand it to me," Cui Lanyin said, accepting the invitation from the side and placing it on the empty corner of the low table.
Prince Wei continued eating the dried meat with the skewer, and Cui Lanyin knew she had acted correctly.
"Many thanks, Second Young Lady," the Chief Steward said gratefully, offering her a smile before turning back to Prince Wei. "This was sent by Fifth Young Master Yao. Knowing Your Highness dislikes disturbances, he did not request an audience but asked me to convey his assurances—everything will be meticulously prepared to avoid inconveniencing you."
"Hmm," Prince Wei responded.
Uncertain but not daring to ask again, the Chief Steward subtly glanced toward Cui Lanyin.
She gave a slight nod, and reassured, the Chief Steward took two steps back. "If Your Highness has no further instructions, I shall inform Fifth Young Master Yao that you will attend."
"Hmm," Prince Wei acknowledged.
Only then did Cui Lanyin realize that Prince Wei had been responding with verbal affirmations more often than his usual silent gestures today. He hadn’t even dozed off—did this mean he was in a particularly good mood?
The Chief Steward seemed to share the same thought. Never before had Prince Wei verbally acknowledged him. As he passed by the attendant, he paused to chide, "Why haven’t you sliced the pears for Second Young Lady? I specifically picked them out."
"Right away," the attendant hurriedly moved to fetch the fruit-cutting tools.
"No need for such trouble," Cui Lanyin stopped him. She picked up a pear and took a bite, smiling. "What a sweet pear! Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Chief Steward."
Her radiant smile as she munched on the fruit, her lilac-colored jacket complementing her fair, rosy complexion, made her look like a delicate porcelain doll—charming and endearing.
With such an agreeable young lady present, what elder could bear to remain cold? Even Prince Wei was no exception. "If Second Young Lady enjoys them, I’ll pack some for you to take back," the Chief Steward offered.
"Give them all to her," Prince Wei suddenly spoke.
Cui Lanyin took another bite. "These pears are sweet and juicy, and they’re excellent for soothing the heart and lungs. Uncle should keep some for yourself."
Prince Wei set down the silver skewer and tapped the table three times with a single finger before reclining against the cushion.
After three meetings, Cui Lanyin had already deciphered Prince Wei’s finger-tapping code.
With only five fingers to work with, and Prince Wei being a man of few gestures, each tap carried multiple meanings. This time, one finger tapping three times usually meant "no" or "reconsider," but that didn’t fit the context. Instead, it likely meant "I won’t keep them."
The pear was small, and Cui Lanyin finished it in a few bites. Smiling, she said, "Then I won’t stand on ceremony. Since you insist, Chief Steward, please pack them all for me."
"Of course! I’ll have them prepared immediately," the Chief Steward replied cheerfully before bowing and retreating.
Meanwhile, Cui Lanyin wiped her hands with a damp cloth and handed another to Prince Wei. "Uncle, you haven’t cleaned your hands." She was fastidious about washing after eating and couldn’t stand seeing others skip it—unless they did so out of her sight.
Prince Wei ignored her, picking up his book again.
But she couldn’t let this slide—otherwise, she’d dwell on it later. Insistently holding out the cloth, she muttered, "The book will smell like dried meat. How unpleasant."
Qinglin exchanged a glance with the Chief Steward. Both braced themselves for Prince Wei’s temper.
Yet nothing happened. Prince Wei paused mid-page, met Cui Lanyin’s unwavering gaze, then set the book aside and took the cloth. He wiped his hands perfunctorily, but she wasn’t satisfied. "Between the fingers too." With a resigned sigh, he complied.
The scene was reminiscent of an adult humoring a stubborn child—even Prince Wei had his moments of helplessness. Qinglin turned away to stifle a laugh.
The Chief Steward, not daring to laugh, exited the study with a flushed face. He resolved to treat Cui Lanyin even more courteously on her next visit.
Only after tidying the used cloth did Cui Lanyin realize she had overstepped. The unusually relaxed atmosphere had lulled her into treating Prince Wei like a doting elder, behaving with the same childishness she displayed before Lady Tan.
So her grandmother’s nickname for her, "Cui the Bold," wasn’t praise—it was a critique of her impulsiveness. Thankfully, Prince Wei hadn’t taken offense, or all her efforts would have been wasted.
She considered leaving immediately, but an abrupt departure might seem odd. Remembering that Fifth Young Master Yao was still waiting for a reply, she asked, "Uncle, did my presence prevent you from receiving your Yao family nephew? How thoughtless of me to linger. Should I leave so you can meet him?"
"Second Young Lady may not know," Qinglin interjected, "but His Highness has only ever received Third Master Yao of the second branch and Fifth Master Yao of the third branch. He has never met any of the younger generation."
Ah. So none of Prince Wei’s Yao family nephews or nieces had been granted an audience? Yet she, a distant relative by several degrees, had met him—and multiple times at that.
How shameless must her actions seem?
At a loss, she rambled, "Well, this relocation banquet will be a chance to meet them all at once. It’ll surely be lively—though I won’t be attending."
She expected Prince Wei to ignore her, allowing her to awkwardly laugh it off and take her leave.
"You’re not going?" Prince Wei asked instead.
Cui Lanyin blinked. Since when did Prince Wei take an interest in such matters? "I... no, I’m not."
A single tap—a command to elaborate.
"This... well..." She glanced at Qinglin, feigning hesitation.
"I’ll check if the pears are packed," Qinglin announced, dragging the attendant out of the study.
Cui Lanyin pouted. Wasn’t Qinglin supposed to remain by Prince Wei’s side at all times? How was he bolder than her? Now her act had backfired.
Though Prince Wei’s eyes remained on his book, she knew he was waiting.
If he could uncover the Meng family’s secrets so swiftly, her own affairs would land on his desk by tomorrow.
Given Prince Wei’s sharp mind—able to deduce the whole from a shadow—there was no point hiding. Besides, as an elder who kept to himself, he wouldn’t spread her business.
"It’s like this... well... Uncle may not know, but the Tan and Yao families are arranging a marriage—between Tan Shao, eldest son of my uncle Tan Shixian, and Seventh Young Lady of the Yao family’s third branch." Surely that explanation sufficed.
"Tap." Another flick of fingers, as if determined to get to the bottom of things. Cui Lanyin sighed inwardly, deciding she might as well lay her cards on the table. "Our family has always been close with my cousin’s household. The younger generation grew up together, as intimate as real siblings. But since we aren’t actually blood-related, certain proprieties must be observed. Now that my eldest cousin is about to get engaged, I’m afraid Young Lady Yao might misunderstand if she sees us interacting too familiarly. So, I thought it best to keep my distance for now and resume visits only after their engagement is settled."
"Afraid she’d resent you?"
Of course, he caught the implication immediately. Cui Lanyin gave a quiet "Mm."
"Lady Tan?"
"Mm." She answered softly again, feeling uncomfortably exposed under his perceptive gaze.
Another tap—this time urging her to elaborate. Cui Lanyin now realized that understanding Prince Wei’s finger-tapping cues wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
Pursing her lips slightly, she had no choice but to explain from the beginning: "My grandmother struggled with fertility in her youth. After marrying my grandfather, she bore no children for years. My father was born posthumously, which is why our branch of the family yielded the hereditary title to the second branch. My grandfather was five years younger than his elder brother, yet my father was three years younger than the eldest son of the second branch. Because he was premature, my father was frail from childhood... People say I take after my grandmother in every way—both of us ‘sickly seedlings.’ So..."
"Which day?"
"The relocation banquet is held on the ninth of each month. This time, it’s the twenty-ninth."
"Go, then."
Truthfully, Cui Lanyin had been troubled by this matter for days. If she didn’t attend, Third Master Cui, his wife, and their sons Cui Su and Cui Sheng would still go. To outsiders, the Cui family’s main branch and the Yao family were relatives. If the main branch didn’t show up, even a harmless situation might spark rumors.
But the Yao family wasn’t like the Tan family. The Yaos were a prominent clan from the south. In Yingcheng alone, countless families were connected to them by marriage or old ties. Moreover, because of Prince Wei’s influence, many sought closer ties with the Yaos, while the Yaos themselves intended to use this occasion to announce their return to society. Their relocation banquet would undoubtedly be packed with guests.
Without guidance, Cui Sheng and the other three wouldn’t know how to navigate such an event.
"Then I’ll follow your advice, Uncle." Cui Lanyin blinked, her smile playful. "If anyone gives me trouble, you’ll have to stand up for me."
