Chapter Fifty-One: How Many Years Will One Live

Page (1/3)

When Winter Warmth questioned her, “What trouble have you caused this time?” Tail Spoon Quiet listened in silence. If these rumors were truly set in motion by her, Winter Warmth would surely be furious. But what about Feng Jinye—how would he feel?

“Winter Warmth, do you think your mistress is someone who does foolish things?” Tail Spoon Quiet replied offhandedly, her thoughts drifting to whether she should go meet Feng Jinye.

Winter Warmth and Clear Summer were both confused. Clear Summer especially so; her idea of “foolishness” didn’t match what her mistress implied.

“Tell me, who do you think Feng Jinye is?” Tail Spoon Quiet asked, noticing their confusion.

“The Warrior Prince?” Clear Summer answered reflexively.

Tail Spoon Quiet responded absentmindedly, “Mm, and who is the Warrior Prince?”

Clear Summer was bewildered. What was her mistress getting at with these odd questions?

Seeing Clear Summer lost in thought, Tail Spoon Quiet’s expression faltered. She swept her sleeve and went to sit in the stone pavilion. “Clear Summer, fetch me a charcoal stick and rice paper.”

She doubted Clear Summer could ever give the answer she sought. Turning her gaze to Winter Warmth, she was met with, “Mistress, who do you think the Warrior Prince is?”

“Of course he is—” Tail Spoon Quiet glanced at Winter Warmth but left her answer unsaid.

Sensible as ever, Winter Warmth changed the subject. “Mistress, are you going to paint?”

Tail Spoon Quiet pouted, rolled her eyes, and replied, “No. I want to calculate how long Feng Jinye will live.”

Outside the moon gate, Feng Jinye stood rooted. He couldn’t bring himself to leave—nor could he take the step into Zhi Yu Pavilion. His whole body trembled, fists clenched so tightly the veins bulged as he fought the urge to smash the wall. Had she married into the Prince’s manor truly with ill intent?

Despair flooded his heart, leaving only cold and emptiness. With a sudden sweep of his sleeve, he turned and disappeared into the distance, never looking back.

Clear Summer emerged with paper and brush, and upon hearing her mistress’s tactless words, couldn’t help but scold, “Miss, don’t say such things!”

“The Warrior Prince is your husband—how can you say something so inauspicious!” Clear Summer muttered as she spread out the paper.

Tail Spoon Quiet’s eyes brightened. “So you know Feng Jinye is your mistress’s husband?”

“That’s right—Feng Jinye is my husband. I am Feng Jinye’s lawfully wedded wife. It’s no surprise if we share a room or if I bear his child!”

Without a trace of maidenly shyness, Tail Spoon Quiet explained herself, then asked Clear Summer, “Why would I be so foolish as to let the servants gossip about this?”

Enlightenment dawned on Clear Summer, who nodded and asked, “Then, why did you say the Prince’s lifespan needs calculating?”

She couldn’t fathom her mistress’s reasoning. Tail Spoon Quiet only chuckled, “That’s a secret I cannot reveal.”

With that, she began scribbling on the paper, calculating in earnest. The symbols meant nothing to Clear Summer and Winter Warmth, who assumed they were her mistress’s own invented script—she never explained.

After a while, Tail Spoon Quiet paused. Clear Summer, watching closely, felt more than ever that her mistress was a master of divination. She couldn’t help but ask, “Miss, are you reading fortunes? What have you learned?”

“Mm.” Tail Spoon Quiet seldom took such interest in petty matters. To Clear Summer, it was clear her mistress was plotting something—either that, or it involved the Warrior Prince.

At Listening Wind Pavilion, a young maidservant came running in through the side door, heading straight to Chu Jiu’s quarters and knocking. “Steward Chu Jiu—”

Chu Jiu was rummaging through a treasured porcelain set when he heard her and opened the door. “Is Her Highness awake?”

Page (2/3)

The young maidservant had been placed in Zhi Yu Pavilion that morning, after Chu Jiu reassigned the houseboys.

“I came to report that Her Highness is awake,” she replied respectfully.

“Good. I’ve found the porcelain set. I’ll take it to Her Highness shortly,” Chu Jiu muttered.

This set had been a gift from the late emperor. Feng Jinye cared little for such things and had casually given it to Chu Jiu. The porcelain was specially crafted—it would change color in the presence of any poison.

Having heard the rumors from Zhi Yu Pavilion, Chu Jiu was deeply agitated, considering how best to protect his young mistress. At last, he decided to bring her the porcelain set.

Just as he was about to leave, Feng Jinye, shrouded in gloom, crossed his path. Feng Jinye glanced at the porcelain in Chu Jiu’s hands, and with a furious motion, smashed the treasured set against the wall, shattering it to pieces.

Chu Jiu had no time to grieve the loss. Realizing something was amiss with Feng Jinye, he turned silently toward the wall and sighed.

On the brink of collapse, Feng Jinye entered his chamber and drew his sword in a rage, smashing the sandalwood sword rack to splinters.

Hearing the commotion inside, Chu Jiu hurried toward Zhi Yu Pavilion, thinking at least he had someone to turn to for help now. From now on, he would be unfailingly loyal to the Princess Consort.

Snow Spring, weary from her tasks, entered Zhi Yu Pavilion just as Tail Spoon Quiet finished her calculations. Bored, Tail Spoon Quiet stood by the pavilion, tossing pebbles into the lake.

Chu Jiu rushed in, breathless. “Your Highness, His Highness is furious—Listening Wind Pavilion is nearly in ruins!”

Snow Spring was the first to react, stamping her foot in distress. “If Listening Wind Pavilion is destroyed, how much silver will that cost?”

“He’s angry?” Tail Spoon Quiet wondered—was it because of the servants’ gossip?

“In the morning, he seemed much better than before, but after a trip out, he returned in a rage!” Chu Jiu replied anxiously.

Tail Spoon Quiet’s heart tightened. These days must have been hard on Feng Jinye. “Was it the servants’ loose tongues again?”

Chu Jiu shook his head, uncertain. If it had been the servants, someone would surely have lost their life by now.

Seeing Chu Jiu so flustered, nearly kneeling at her feet, Tail Spoon Quiet relented. “I’ll go see for myself.”

She pushed open the study door at Listening Wind Pavilion. A wine bottle came hurtling at her, accompanied by a furious shout: “Get out!”

When the intruder didn’t leave, Feng Jinye grabbed another bottle and smashed it just as fiercely.

Tail Spoon Quiet steeled herself, stepped right into the bottle’s path, and tried to deflect it. But Feng Jinye’s strength was not something she could easily withstand—a muffled groan escaped her.

Feng Jinye’s hand paused. He hadn’t aimed at her, and she’d done it on purpose, but still, his heart ached.

Seeing him stop, yet still not look at her, Tail Spoon Quiet realized she truly had pushed him to his limit.

In the silent wreckage of the study, she couldn’t help but lament his destructiveness.

After a long, heavy pause, she finally asked, “Didn’t you promise not to smash bottles anymore?”

Feng Jinye ignored her, his heart wracked with agony.

She gazed quietly at his back—he was like a wounded lion, licking his wounds in solitude.

The sight made her chest constrict. All her scheming and persistence seemed to crumble into dust in that instant.

Page (3/3)

Feng Jinye, too, was her weakness.

She walked toward him. His eyes were bloodshot; as she approached, he turned away. All she saw was a lonely figure, fists bloodied.

Her heart twisted in pain. She turned to the chaotic floor, searching for the ointment he’d once used on her wounds. His injury was minor—the bleeding had stopped.

Yet, for all her eloquence, she could find no words now; her eyes brimmed with tears.

“How did I anger you?” She drew a handkerchief, dampened it with wine, and gently cleaned his wound, her voice choked with emotion.

Feng Jinye didn’t look at her, but neither did he pull away.

He was wary. She was clever—she’d deflected the bottle, knowing he’d feel pain, then approached, knowing he wouldn’t push her away. Was she calculating even now, with her tears and gentle care?

Fury surged within him. He swept his sleeve, withdrawing his arm. Tail Spoon Quiet, startled, her voice full of hurt, stammered, “Do you not want to see me?”

Not want to see her?

He asked himself a thousand times, yet every time he wished she would stay. Whatever she did—kill him, harm him—he could not bear for her to leave. How could he not want to see her?

Pouting, she slowly turned away, and suddenly panic flashed in his eyes.

“No,” he managed, the words wrenched from him by the beast’s claws raking his heart.

Tears streamed down Tail Spoon Quiet’s face.

“Did something come to mind?” she asked softly, unable to fathom the cause of his despair.

She, too, was heartsick. Had she often left him to suffer alone like a beast licking his wounds?

She recalled that morning, how Clear Summer had hesitated so long to call Feng Jinye her mistress’s husband. She truly had been a poor wife.

She’d been harsh to him these past days. Seeing him still silent, she babbled, “From now on, I’ll treat you well... better.”

For a moment, Feng Jinye didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. When had he become the sulking wife and she the comforting husband?

And yet, those simple words—“From now on, I’ll treat you well”—why did they sound so sweet?

She couldn’t say much more; with the oppressive air between them lifting, her own gentleness was nearly spent.

She sensed that staying would only lead to more conflict, so she turned to leave, thinking it best before another quarrel could start.

But as soon as she moved, Feng Jinye was before her in a flash.

She looked up, meeting his bloodshot gaze—still bearing the marks of his fury.