To prevent his sourness from worsening, when he casually mentioned Xiliang and the competition again, I snuggled up to him with a smile, saying that besides my own husband, I care about nothing else.
He was pleased, and indeed, his face brightened.
He happily ground ink and brewed tea for me, showing attentive care and consideration. I felt I had found a good man – healthy, handsome, with no bad habits, and easy to placate.
However, bad news arrived: the Xiliang team reported that the Third Prince Xia Zhichun had fallen from a cliff, presumably beyond rescue. This news reached Qi Kingdom, adding sorrow to the previously joyful atmosphere. The Qi Emperor grieved deeply, stating this was not Xiliang’s fault but the prince’s thin fate, unable to return home before dying in a foreign land. Despite the sadness, the long-prepared competition could not be canceled. The Qi Emperor announced that everything would proceed as planned, and the prince’s funeral would be held after the competition.
When I heard this news, I felt sad. Although years had passed and initial feelings had faded, this gentle and humble prince did not deserve such an end.
Our acquaintance was quite dramatic. Chen Hua had received an order to paint a portrait of the Thirteenth Prince, requiring a profound setting, preferably with a night scene, for a considerable reward. I tried many methods and finally bribed the steward on the prince’s pleasure boat, sneaking in as a temporary maid. When the Third Prince was crossing the Yan River at night, I hid nearby to paint. Unexpectedly, he discovered me.
He was surprised but showed no intention of blaming me. Instead, he let me finish the painting. After our acquaintance, I often sailed the Yan River with him and learned about his disappointments in the imperial court. Despite his difficulties, he never complained, finding solace in landscapes and hoping to break free from the palace. Unexpectedly, a battle sent him far away to Xiliang, and now, having had a chance to return home, he fell from a cliff midway.
Truly, fate is cruel. As a prince, he suffered more than ordinary people and ultimately met such an end. When An Jin was not around, I secretly burned some paper money for him, hoping for a better life in his next reincarnation.
The chariots of Xiliang and Nanrui entered Yanfeng City one after another. The new Xiliang Emperor was friendly; upon entering the city, he switched to horseback, riding upright and smiling subtly at the Yanfeng crowd. His delicate face was adorned with large blue sapphires on his robe, and long tassels hung from his cloak. Twenty-four guards surrounded him, clad in light chain mail and wearing solemn expressions.
The Yanfeng people exclaimed, finding the new emperor unexpectedly young and handsome. The initial hostility towards Xiliang seemed to soften with his approachable smile.
I stood in the crowd, in a daze. The new emperor looked good, but…
The new emperor’s gaze swept over the crowd, precisely landing on me. His smile deepened, his lips moved slightly, and though far away, I could roughly understand his silent words: Are you well?
Yuan Xiao stood on its hind legs, letting out a cheerful bark. “I know you understand. You still like staying with me, right?” It shook its fur, not glancing at me, and ran towards a nearby butcher shop where Que’er was swinging a bone.
Before I could reflect, I saw the lively people of Yan Feng crowding around another group entering the city gate. The leader was a tall, stern-faced young general with an unsheathed long knife at his waist and a yellow-crowned white-feathered macaw perched on his shoulder. Behind him was a luxurious two-horse carriage, with a semi-transparent curtain vaguely revealing a woman inside.
This was undoubtedly the cavalry general and second princess of Nan Rui. I had heard that the people of Nan Rui loved raising animals, but I didn’t expect this imposing general to have such a cute parrot; I thought an eagle would suit him better.
On the second day after the Xi Liang and Nan Rui caravans arrived in Yan Feng, the Qi Emperor held a banquet in the palace to welcome the guests, and An Jin was also in attendance. I didn’t need to attend the feast, so I took Yuan Xiao home to check on my elder brother’s progress in mechanical arts. Near the end of the banquet, I took Yuan Xiao to Xuan Wu Gate to wait for his return.
Unexpectedly, Yuan Xiao suddenly shook its head and ran off, refusing to come back. I guessed it was lured by the aroma of meat bone soup and quickly chased after it with Que’er. Following it through several alleys, we reached the Jing De Gate, which had a view of its double-eaved hipped roof.
There were jade pools on both sides of Jing De Gate, with a white marble corridor in the middle, traditionally reserved for distinguished guests and royalty. Any unauthorized entry meant certain death. A row of guards stood in front of the corridor, with attendants inside. Elegantly dressed nobles conversed, apparently the distinguished guests from Xi Liang and Nan Rui. Several small carriages with vermilion doors and canopies were lined up outside, seemingly waiting to transport them.
Yuan Xiao, lacking any sense of crisis, rushed into the circle of guards, causing a commotion among the nobles.
Que’er said nervously, “Madam, perhaps we should hide…”
As I hesitated, I saw some guards about to strike with their spears and rushed to stop them, only to be blocked. I noticed Yuan Xiao frolicking next to a noble, who was pinching its ear.
It had come to find him. I felt heartache; I had raised it for years and cared deeply. Was it still not enough compared to its original owner?
Que’er tugged at my sleeve. “Madam, Yuan Xiao seems fine. We should retreat.” The guards ordered us to back away and leave Jing De Gate.
As I glanced at Yuan Xiao rolling on the ground, I heard a soft call. “Thirteen?”
I froze and turned to the nobles. The Xi Liang Emperor, elegant and refined, raised his eyebrow, his light brown eyes showing surprise.
“This servant greets Your Majesty,” I bowed, my heart in turmoil. Hadn’t I already stated I was married? Why use such a form of address?
He seemed about to speak but hesitated, creating an awkward atmosphere. The Nan Rui cavalry general and a woman wearing a gold-embroidered headband silently observed.
Suddenly, the macaw on the general’s shoulder turned its head and clearly spoke: “Stupid dog, stupid dog!” It dismissively waved its wing at Yuan Xiao, breaking the tension. Yuan Xiao, understanding the bird’s taunt, quickly flipped up and barked fiercely at the parrot. The cavalry general stepped back, startled, and the bird flew up, circling before landing precisely on my shoulder.
Startled, I tried to shoo it away, but it flapped its wings and gripped my clothing, refusing to leave. Its feathers made me sneeze several times. Que’er attempted to help but was sharply pecked. Finally, the Xi Liang Emperor grabbed its wings and pulled it down.
“Princess, princess!” it cried, flying towards the woman with the gold headband. She extended her arm, and it settled comfortably, continuing to cry, “Princess, princess! Save little Huang!” This must be the second princess of Nan Rui. The parrot’s name, little Huang, reflects an unusual taste in names.
I gave a meaningful look to the stoic general, who hadn’t changed his expression throughout. Could the parrot actually belong to this second princess rather than the general?
Noticing everyone’s gaze on little Huang, the second princess looked slightly embarrassed. “This is the parrot of the Fifth Princess. We brought it to try and find her whereabouts.” So this talkative parrot belonged to the princess who had run away from an arranged marriage. If it could help locate the Fifth Princess, it would save An Jin some trouble. This princess, however, had poor judgment in both people and naming.
