Chapter Thirteen: Layers Upon Layers of Drama

The Empress Dowager’s expression was somber. As soon as she spoke, Luo Yanqing dropped to her knees with a loud thud and pleaded, “Your Majesty, please quell your anger. I never had any intention toward the Marquis of Qin’s heir. The reason I have delayed marriage is because my heart belongs to another. This has nothing to do with the Marquis’s heir. I beg Your Majesty to grant me release from this engagement!”

Once Luo Yanqing had finished speaking, she kowtowed three times, each with a resounding bang.

Wei Shao Qianyu looked up at the ceiling in silence. Was this supposed to be pleading for someone else? Why did it sound more like she was making excuses for Huangfu Xi? She certainly played the part of a deeply devoted maiden.

Sweeping her gaze around, Wei Shao Qianyu noticed that most of the ladies present looked at Luo Yanqing with varying degrees of sympathy, which made her inwardly scoff.

Seated at the head, the Empress Dowager had no wish for the matter to escalate further, so with a curt, “Enough,” she agreed to dissolve the betrothal between the two.

Noticing the sympathy in the room for Luo Yanqing, the Empress Dowager casually promised, “The daughter of the Marquis of Dingyuan, having had her engagement with the Marquis of Qin’s house annulled, shall, in time, be granted an even more suitable marriage by my hand.”

Wei Shao Qianyu thought the matter concluded, but the plot took an unexpected turn.

Sensing the sympathy and perhaps regret from the noblewomen, Luo Yanqing kowtowed once more to the Empress Dowager, her words faltering as she said, “Thank you, Your Majesty, for your kindness. I… my heart…”

She paused, gathering her thoughts before continuing, “My heart belongs… to the heir of the Marquis of Xibo. I beseech Your Majesty to grant me marriage to him!”

At the mention of the Marquis of Xibo’s heir, Wei Shao Qianyu couldn’t help but choke on her tea. Wasn’t the Marquis of Xibo’s heir Yun Ming?

She wasn’t the only one stunned. The cup in Feng Jinye’s hand paused midair—had Luo Yanqing set her sights on him?

With a look of profound sympathy, Wei Shao Qianyu cast a glance at Yun Ming.

The Marquis of Qin’s heir, Yun Ming, was the Empress Dowager’s nephew. Upon hearing that Luo Yanqing wished to marry Yun Ming, the Empress Dowager’s delight was uncontainable; she burst into laughter.

Seven years ago, Yun Ming had been severely wounded during an assassination attempt on him, Feng Jinye, and Huangfu Chen. Ever since, he had been frail and susceptible to the cold and illness. His poor health made it difficult to find a suitable match, much to the Empress Dowager’s distress, which had caused her to go visibly gray in recent years.

Overjoyed, the Empress Dowager made her decision on the spot, bestowing marriage between Yun Ming and Luo Yanqing. The hall was soon filled with congratulations.

Throughout it all, Yun Ming had remained silent, his demeanor serene. Clad in white robes with a heavy cloak draped over his shoulders, he looked every bit the elegant nobleman from a painting, clutching the small hand warmer Wei Shao Qianyu had given him. He rose, bowed low in the center of the hall, and expressed his gratitude: “Yun Ming thanks Your Majesty for your grace.”

The Empress Dowager waved him back to his seat.

With the matter settled, the Longming Palace resumed its lively celebrations, and Huangfu Xi was soon forgotten in a corner, drinking in silence.

Wei Shao Qianyu had expected only a single dramatic scene today, yet one followed another—truly, the palace was the perfect stage for such performances!

Feng Jinye had been watching Wei Shao Qianyu the entire time. After a cup of wine, he couldn’t help but ask, “Does it hurt?”

Startled, Wei Shao Qianyu instinctively rubbed her cheek through her veil. “It’s nothing. The girl had no real strength. It doesn’t hurt.”

But Feng Jinye was displeased, his anger barely contained as he set his cup down, wishing he could lift her veil to see for himself.

“Why do you think she targets me?” Wei Shao Qianyu mused aloud, puzzled by Luo Yanqing’s hostility. “Could she actually be interested in you and jealous that I married you?”

A palace maid approached to refill the prince’s cup. Wei Shao Qianyu took the bottle from her hand and poured wine for Feng Jinye. As she was about to refill her own cup, he stopped her: “You’re injured—no more wine.”

A gentle warmth filled Wei Shao Qianyu’s heart, and she smiled softly. “You must know that on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day, it’s traditional to drink Tusu wine to ward off evil.”

Hearing this, Feng Jinye took the flask and poured her a small cup. “Drink it quickly.”

In the freezing weather, the warmed wine cooled almost instantly once poured.

Wei Shao Qianyu drank it, knowing there would be no second cup and didn’t press for more. “I don’t think Luo Yanqing is any good, and Yun Ming is rather pitiful. But Ah Xi is actually quite lucky.”

“Ah Xi?” Feng Jinye frowned, displeased by how intimately she referred to Huangfu Xi.

Knowing Feng Jinye’s tolerance for drink, she poured him another cup, wondering if she might sneak one for herself. But his gaze fixed on her hand, and she had no choice but to set the flask aside. “Indeed, marrying the wrong woman brings calamity to three generations. Haven’t you heard?”

“Then did I marry the wrong woman?” Feng Jinye set his cup aside, smiling with interest.

“Of course not! Didn’t you investigate? I’m more talented than Luo Yanqing, the so-called first lady of letters,” Wei Shao Qianyu retorted, her tone low, but Feng Jinye could sense her displeasure and easily imagine her pouting behind the veil.

The two spoke softly to each other, as if there were no one else in the bustling palace, their intimacy evident.

Feng Jinye chuckled. “You say marrying the wrong woman curses three generations. Surely you mean Luo Yanqing?”

Wei Shao Qianyu tilted her head, glancing askance at him. “So you think marrying me will curse three generations too?”

A smile played at Feng Jinye’s lips. Hearing her mention “three generations,” he couldn’t help but be delighted. If she wished to “curse” him for three generations, he would gladly accept it.

Perhaps emboldened by the wine, Feng Jinye replied in a low, casual tone, “No matter. I’ll live a little longer and teach the fourth generation myself.”

Wei Shao Qianyu nearly laughed aloud at his response but managed to restrain herself, merely raising her left hand to cover her lips and nose beneath the veil.

Yun Ming sat just below Feng Jinye, his gaze frequently drifting toward them. She was always happiest at Feng Jinye’s side.

The banquet lasted for two hours before the civil and military officials all took their leave.

Wei Shao Qianyu and Feng Jinye boarded the carriage bound for the Prince of War’s residence. Unable to contain her amusement, she laced and unlaced her slender fingers, her laughter unrestrained.

Then she lightly traced the white jade ring on her left ring finger with her right thumb, praising Feng Jinye, “Your Highness has a way with words!”

Feng Jinye chuckled, surprised that a single phrase from him could delight her so much.

As they arrived at the Prince of War’s residence, the Marquis of Xibo’s carriage was already waiting outside. Wei Shao Qianyu recognized it at once and approached. “Heir Yun, here to pay your New Year’s respects so early?”

It was dusk, with a gentle snowfall beginning. Yun Ming lifted the carriage curtain and stepped out, as elegant as ever. His attendant promptly opened an umbrella for him. Yun Ming smiled and greeted her, “Princess of War.”

Knowing Yun Ming’s aversion to the cold, Wei Shao Qianyu didn’t wait for Feng Jinye to speak, but invited him in herself.

“Just call me Qianyu. ‘Princess of War’ sounds far too formal.” Her earlier “Heir Yun” had been half in jest.

Chu Jiu approached with an umbrella, but Feng Jinye snatched it away, opened it with a flick, and in a few strides had pulled Wei Shao Qianyu under its shelter, his possessiveness clear as day.

Yun Ming only gave a soft chuckle; he was long accustomed to such things.

As they walked toward the Listening Wind Pavilion, Wei Shao Qianyu suddenly remembered something. “Yun Ming, will you be staying for New Year’s Eve dinner?”

Because he was sensitive to the cold, Yun Ming often spent winters recuperating at Yunyang Mountain, rarely celebrating the New Year at his own home. The Lady of the Marquis of Xibo was his stepmother, and he had a half-brother by her; returning home, Yun Ming felt more like an outsider.

He understood Wei Shao Qianyu’s kindness and did not refuse. “I will.”

“Wonderful! I’ve prepared hotpot for New Year’s dinner—red, festive, and it’ll keep you warm!” Her mention of warmth made it sound as if the hotpot was specially prepared for Yun Ming.

Feng Jinye had been warmed by the thought that she’d prepared New Year’s dinner, but her next words soured his mood with jealousy.

Noticing the stormy look on Feng Jinye’s face, Wei Shao Qianyu caught his sleeve, as if to keep him close, and her gesture soothed him somewhat.

They soon reached the Listening Wind Pavilion. Having eaten little at the midday banquet, they were all quite hungry.

In the cold, dishes cooled quickly, especially at banquets.

Wei Shao Qianyu instructed Qingxia and Dongnuan to bring up the prepared ingredients.

The three sat around the stove, which quickly filled the room with warmth. Wei Shao Qianyu immediately blanched some fish slices, asking, “Yun Ming, what do you think of this marriage to Luo Yanqing?”

Yun Ming, completely at ease, found the hotpot an excellent idea—the bubbling broth already warming him. “Well, she slapped you. Since I’m to marry her, you may slap her as many times as you wish!”

Wei Shao Qianyu chuckled at his reply, wondering if the two men had conspired in advance—they both had a way with words.

She laughed, but disagreed with Yun Ming’s nonchalant approach to the engagement. “Your words are pleasant to hear!”

“But there’s no need for such a sacrifice. She cannot bully me.” All the while, Wei Shao Qianyu kept serving food to Feng Jinye.

Whenever Feng Jinye’s temper threatened to flare, Wei Shao Qianyu would promptly offer him a slice of fish.

Yun Ming, wise enough not to provoke Feng Jinye, turned to him instead. “What do you think about the imperial marriage grant today?”

“Ask her!” Feng Jinye replied, his voice dripping with jealousy.

Yun Ming nodded, understanding, and deliberately called out softly, “Qianyu~”

Feng Jinye loathed hearing Wei Shao Qianyu’s name from anyone else’s lips—it felt as though it belonged to him alone, though he himself never spoke it.

His eyes seemed to burn with flames, but when Yun Ming asked, “Qianyu, what do you think?”—he even raised his eyebrow at Feng Jinye as if to say, “You told me to ask!”

Wei Shao Qianyu, chopsticks in hand, served Feng Jinye some greens. He disliked vegetables and preferred fish, so his elegant brows furrowed even further.

Seeing his expression, Wei Shao Qianyu smiled, “My prince is truly adorable.”

The words “my prince” instantly doused all Feng Jinye’s jealousy, turning it to sweetness. Without hesitation, he ate the vegetables.