Just as he was about to drink, he seemed to remember something and put down his cup. “Oh, I almost forgot. Is the Cavalry General who accompanied the Princess to Xi Liang currently married?”
General Shen? I was momentarily stunned, then replied, “Not yet.”
“My sixth imperial sister, Princess Qinghe, is eighteen, beautiful, intelligent, and unmarried. She mentioned having a very good impression of your country’s General Shen. If the Grand Princess has no objections, why not facilitate this marriage?”
If it were someone else, I would be happy to see it through. A marriage alliance would help stabilize relations with Xi Liang, especially with Nan Rui and Qi Kingdom at odds. But General Shen…
“Zhao Hua fears she cannot make this decision,” I politely declined. “Although General Shen is unmarried, he may already have a marriage arrangement. Let me consult with General Shen before responding to Your Majesty.”
Yan Huo’s expression was strange, seemingly triumphant, disbelieving, and somewhat regretful. “The Princess isn’t reluctant, is she? I hear Emperor Hong intends to bestow General Shen in marriage to the Princess. Could it be the Princess also has her own desires?”
That prickling sensation on my back returned, making me uncomfortable. Looking around, only Mo Qu stood nearby, steady as an iron tower.
Yan Huo, seeing me unresponsive, raised an eyebrow: “Princess?”
I came to my senses, cleared my throat, and asked, “Your Majesty’s informants reach quite far. Even I didn’t know about this, yet you’ve already heard about it. May I ask from where?”
Yan Huo was stunned, slightly embarrassed, and downed the wine in his cup. I felt a slight victory.
Chapter Sixty: My Choice
I never imagined that Xia Zhichun was hiding in Yan Huo’s inner palace, leading me to speculate about their relationship.
A hostage sent to an enemy country, an ambitious monarch—their love was complicated and deeply entangled, emerging from collaboration into endless complications.
I seemed to be overthinking Xia Zhichun’s actions. Why he pretended to have died from a cliff fall but was actually hiding in Xi Liang’s inner palace was unclear, but the answer would come soon enough.
Strictly speaking, Xia Zhichun lived in a remote and cold side hall in the inner palace, similar to a cold palace, making it a safe hiding place.
Moqu led me inside, and a palace maid reported that the young master was harvesting vegetables. I thought I had misheard, but Moqu confirmed it and guided me to the backyard garden.
The garden had no flowers or trees, only tilled land with vibrant green onions, tomatoes, and other plants. In the distance, I saw two figures, one tall and one short.
After several years, seeing Xia Zhichun again was unexpected; he was not writing poetry or enjoying tea but wearing a gray cloth garment, rolling up his sleeves, and harvesting small white cabbage. Beside him was a simple, unadorned woman gently wiping his sweat with a smile—Su Hui, someone I knew.
I closed my eyes, steadied myself, and then opened them again.
Moqu was looking at me, seemingly puzzled by my reaction.
The vegetable plot, Xia Zhichun, and Su Hui—people and things I could never connect—were suddenly placed in one scene, seemingly harmonious. The Eastern Palace was ethereal and otherworldly, Yan Huo’s words had double meanings, Xia Zhichun was farming, and Su Hui appeared virtuous and plain. What kind of place was Xiliang that could make everyone seem so strange?
“He—” I pointed in Xia Zhichun’s direction, struggling to decide which question to ask first. “Is this really Xia Zhichun?”
“Absolutely true,” Moqu nodded. “Princess, please follow me.”
I looked at Moqu questioningly. Although our interactions were minimal, I remembered his deep voice and quick speech, often making it difficult to understand him. However, this time, his words were clearer, and his voice seemed to have changed.
He walked to Xia Zhichun, cupped his fists in greeting, and explained the purpose of their visit.
Xia Zhichun stood up, glanced at me with slight surprise, then placed a small white cabbage in the bamboo basket Su Hui carried, nodding and smiling at me: “Long time no see.”
Indeed, it was him.
Although he had grown taller and more defined, his unhurried tone and demeanor were consistent with the gentle third prince I remembered. Unsure of my feelings, I returned his smile. He turned to Su Hui: “Hui’er, please take the princess to the hall to sit; I’ll change my clothes and be right there.”
Su Hui poured me tea, and I stared at her, amazed by the scene. Moqu stood silently behind me.
Finally, Su Hui broke the silence: “Didn’t expect to meet here; what a coincidence.”
“Indeed unexpected,” I replied, holding the warm tea, my mind full of questions. “I thought you liked An Jin.”
“My closeness with Brother An was by His Majesty’s order,” Su Hui replied. “To investigate Brother An’s background and drive a wedge between you and your husband.”
She spoke frankly, and I had no reason to be secretive. It was unexpected for us to have such an open conversation.
Su Hui quickly transformed her heavy expression into a refined smile, sharing a few polite pleasantries. Understanding that I had confidential matters to discuss with Xia Zhichun, she excused herself, saying she would prepare tea and snacks. Mo Qu remained motionless behind me.
“I heard that the Third Prince had fallen off a cliff, and Zhao Hua burned some paper money to console him, only to find that Your Highness is not only alive but also living quite comfortably,” I said, glancing at him. “Having such a pastoral life in the deep palace is truly enviable.”
Xia Zhichun looked at me with a strange expression and eventually smiled bitterly. “Younger sister Yao, you’ve changed quite a bit. I know you’re now the Grand Princess of Nan Rui and have experienced hardships; no wonder your temperament has changed.”
This was Xia Zhichun’s communication style—gentle, considerate, empathetic. If Yan Huo was a dazzling lover, Xia Zhichun was more like a reliable older brother, making one feel attached.
Yet, both were mere illusions.
“It’s hardly considered hardship,” I replied with a smile. “Compared to Your Highness’s patience and strategic restraint, Zhao Hua is truly inferior.”
Xia Zhichun looked slightly embarrassed, lowering his head. “At that time, deliberately approaching you was to confirm your identity. Compared to the Eastern Palace, I was at a disadvantage, constantly suppressed and threatened, so I had to rely on some methods to seek an opportunity.”
I had originally wanted to provoke his guilt to make him tell the truth, but I didn’t expect him to be so frank that I couldn’t bring myself to blame him.
“The grudges between Your Highness and the Eastern Palace are of no interest to me,” I said, staring into his eyes. “I only want to know where that black gold token is.”
He was not surprised. “I know you came to find me for this token.”
“This token is of no use to you,” I replied, taking a sip of tea. “I believe Your Highness doesn’t want to hide in the Western Liang’s inner palace for a lifetime. If you’re willing to return the black gold token, Zhao Hua will owe you a favor. I will definitely help within my capabilities.”
Xia Zhichun looked at me, then smiled. “If I could gain the princess’s assistance, I would be delighted. However, I have received Emperor Yan’s grace and must follow his arrangements.”
My heart sank. I knew Yan Huo wouldn’t have let me meet Xia Zhichun without a reason. Ultimately, whether I could obtain the black gold token depended on him. What a cunning Yan Huo—what was he trying to gain from me through this arrangement?
“Since that’s the case, Zhao Hua won’t force Your Highness,” I said with a forced smile. “I didn’t expect to ultimately need Emperor Yan to speak.”
