Chapter 15

The younger maid trembled slightly at the words. “The eldest young master requests you to visit the temporary palace later this month.”

“I won’t go.” Pei Muzi frowned, his tone colder than usual.

“The eldest young master anticipated this response, so he sent a letter.” The maid shakily produced a scroll and bowed as she handed it over.

Pei Muzi took it but showed no urgency to open it. He leaned lazily against the chair, raising an eyebrow, a subtle yet inscrutable danger lurking at the corner of his eye.

The woman’s scalp tingled, as if a snake’s tongue had brushed her skin, suffocating her. “I swear on my life, no one else has seen its contents.”

Pei Muzi squinted slightly, unsealed the bamboo tube’s cap, and the bold characters leapt onto the paper:

“Don’t want the antidote anymore?”

The handwriting was bold and forceful, penetrating the paper.

A cold smile seemed to curl Pei Muzi’s sharply defined face, half hidden in shadow, the other half bathed in dim, yellowish candlelight, resembling a jade-faced demon split into two.

“The hairpin must be made from the finest material. Don’t disappoint me.” He folded his sleeve twice; his knuckled fingers pinched the letter casually, placing it just above the candle.

The flame, like a demon devouring darkness, instantly engulfed the oiled paper, burning away every trace.

Pei Muzi did not flinch as the letter turned to ashes at his fingertips.

—

After about half an hour, the maid respectfully escorted Pei Muzi out. Qing Wu approached him, “What took so long?”

“You’ll know in a few days, Your Highness.” Pei Muzi’s lips curved into a slight smile upon seeing her.

Qing Wu was startled. “Are you giving me a coming-of-age gift?”

“Yes.” He still carried the faint scent of smoke and ash on his nose, clearing his throat lightly. “Something ordinary might not meet your approval.”

Qing Wu pondered briefly, then smiled, lowering her gaze to toy with his belt.

The maid, somewhat distracted, involuntarily followed them.

“You didn’t pay?” Qing Wu poked his arm, puzzled.

Otherwise, why would the maid be so forlornly chasing after them?

Pei Muzi’s lips curled into a smile as he reached into his sleeve for his purse.

The maid was terrified, her legs like lead, unable to lift them. Her voice trembled, “You may pay upon inspection. If unsatisfied, adjustments can be made.”

—

Pei Muzi nodded, tilting his head to ask Qing Wu, “Anything else you want?”

“No.” She had considered buying him a fashionable jade hairpin but decided that the quality of the jade was paramount. Instead, she planned to select a fine piece of Hetian jade from the box her aunt left her. Her aunt had loved adorning herself and surely had left good materials. Later, she would have a hairpin made for him.

“Then let’s go.” Pei Muzi grasped Qing Wu’s wide sleeve, holding on until they descended the stairs and reached the carriage, never letting go.

The sky darkened in the distance, ink slowly spreading across water. The street shops lit their lanterns, bustling even more than during the day.

“Since we’re finally out, shall we stroll around?” Qing Wu suggested, deciding for both.

She eagerly had Ning Chun change her into a more understated outfit: white robes edged with gold, layered with a translucent, floral-patterned gauze skirt that fluttered lightly. Her skin was paler than snow, harmonizing perfectly with Pei Muzi’s tones.

“When will the princess return to the manor? I’ll come to fetch you,” Uncle Cheng cheerfully held the reins gently, careful not to startle passersby.

Qing Wu considered briefly, “I won’t return tonight. I’ll stay out for one night.”

“What?!” Ning Chun gasped. “How can that be?”

With the uncertain political situation, a princess staying out overnight was dangerous news, especially if it fell into ill-intentioned hands.

“Why not?” Qing Wu shoved the clothes she had changed out of into Zhixue’s arms and pushed her into the carriage. “You wear these back to the manor silently. Don’t get noticed.”

Zhixue’s silhouette resembled hers most closely; riding the carriage flamboyantly back to the manor would be enough to fool anyone.

It was simple—something they had done before.

Hanyue followed Qing Wu’s lead silently, trailing behind with a troubled expression.

“You don’t have to come along. Pei Muzi and I will go alone.”

“But…” Ning Chun looked at Qing Wu, her face shadowed with unspoken worry.

For ten years, the princess rarely ventured alone, let alone spent a night outside.

“What’s the ‘but’ for!” Qing Wu snapped, annoyed by the fuss. “What harm could possibly come to me?”

Pei Muzi stood behind her, his sheer gauze sleeves swirling around the moon-white trailing hem, their presence together emanating an elegant and refined aura.

Hanyue suddenly recalled the button—if the spare button had fallen from the carriage, how did it end up so far behind the carriage compartment?

Compelled by some unseen force, she drew the sword at her waist and handed it to Pei Muzi. “Do you know how to use it?”

The sword was custom-made by the princess for her—thin, sharp, light, fitting for a woman’s use, yet ornate enough to lull enemies into complacency.

—

“A little.” Pei Muzi flicked his wrist, a cold gleam flashing as silver-white light rippled from hilt to tip, a clangorous dragon’s roar bursting forth.

Hanyue’s pupils contracted sharply but soon steadied. “Protect the princess well.”

Just one glance told her that Pei Gongzi’s internal strength exceeded hers; ordinary people wouldn’t fare well against him.

Yet, a stronger intuition gnawed at Hanyue—did the princess know about this matter too?

“That’s enough.” Qing Wu acted as if she’d seen nothing, her tone full of dismissiveness. “Don’t you trust me? If anything really happened, just look at how fragile he looks!”

Who was protecting whom was still uncertain!

Their sleeves intertwined like vines but never truly touched, as if bound by an invisible thread, tethering them within a shared magnetic charm.

Ning Chun, older and naturally the leader among the maids, refrained from speaking further once the princess was silent; the others followed suit.

Suddenly, Qing Wu remembered something, wearing an expression as if this was her last chance. Smiling, she asked Hanyue, “Don’t you want to tell me something?”

She usually disliked prying into others’ privacy and didn’t want to offend or probe Hanyue’s secrets. But here, one was a little sister who often risked her life to protect her, the other possibly involved with the emperor’s new favorite attendant, a matter of great consequence.

She didn’t linger for Hanyue to speak but instead began walking down, avoiding putting too much pressure on her or giving her time to choose her words carefully.

“Princess—” Hanyue was caught off guard by the question. After hesitating, she called out, still uneasy inside.

She knew the princess cared for them and, having endured so much, probably didn’t wish to entangle herself with others in the palace.

Yet, she imagined Yun Ting being punished; without strong protection, who knew how Wang Quan would torment him in secret?

Qing Wu turned back, wearing a triumphant fox-like smile.

Hanyue nervously said, “I know someone inside the palace who is in a very difficult situation. I want to…”

But she suddenly didn’t know what to say to help Yun Ting.

Should the princess whisper in His Majesty’s ear to transfer Yun Ting back to the front? Or should she intervene to deal with Wang Quan? But Yun Ting was castrated; if the princess asked about their relationship, how should she respond?

She looked up to find Qing Wu staring intently, listening earnestly.

At that moment, Pei Muzi raised an eyebrow, quietly drew aside the curtain, and slipped into the carriage, clearly uninterested in listening to the girls’ heartfelt conversation.

It was the first time Hanyue had ever asked the princess for help, and she felt embarrassed, clutching her sleeve, unsure how to continue.

Qing Wu burst out laughing softly, then smiled. “If it’s so bad in the palace, why don’t I bring him to our manor?”