Chapter Forty-One: The Young Lord of the Jiao Tree

Ever since waking, her appetite had been considerable—something quite unusual, given she’d never partaken in mortal fare before. In the past, she’d occasionally hunted a divine beast or a demon creature to indulge her cravings, but most days, she subsisted on celestial nectar and ambrosia. This newfound hunger was indeed peculiar.

The array of dishes before her vanished as swiftly as clouds swept by the wind, leaving only the lotus chicken she’d promised to Mir Zhe. She glanced up at him, “Shall I give you silver instead?”

Mir Zhe quickly took the plate, guarding it fiercely as though his soul depended on the chicken’s survival. There was an air of resolute defiance—if the chicken perished, so would he!

Jiang Lan scoffed but didn’t contest him for it.

Surveying the remnants on the table, she felt a pang of guilt; the gentleman beside her hadn’t eaten at all. Should she order another round?

Excellent!

Jiang Lan turned, intending to speak with the nobleman at her side.

At that moment, as she looked upon him, her heart seemed to hollow. It was the very one whose celestial grace had captivated her on stage earlier. The shifting lights then had left his features indistinct, but here, in the brilliance of this lavish chamber, she realized she’d been a rustic fool for not recognizing such magnificence sooner.

She’d seen many beauties across the six realms—once, in her youth, she’d even teased a few high gods and demon lords—but none could compare to the brilliance before her, which robbed the world itself of color.

Was it the mortal flame that bestowed upon him such unparalleled charm? No, calling him a banished immortal would only diminish his allure.

How could it be that a living being—no, a mortal—could possess such breathtaking beauty?

Her heart raced. She was certain that on stage, his visage had been deliberately veiled; otherwise, simply sitting there with such ethereal looks would have garnered legions of admirers without need for any dance.

Even the famed seduction of the nine-tailed foxes paled next to a single, luminous glance from this gentleman. He truly was unrivaled.

Jiang Lan thought so, and praised him accordingly.

She was no ascetic Buddha, unmoved by earthly desires; her affection for exquisite things was nothing to be ashamed of.

“Mr. Jiumu?” she ventured.

Since first encountering him, his lips had worn a gentle smile, soft as water.

“Yes.”

Withdrawing her gaze, Jiang Lan wiped her mouth.

“Seeing you haven’t eaten, shall I order another table?”

Jiumu paused, shook his head, “I am not hungry, thank you for your kindness. If you do not object, I would be honored to pour you tea.”

Jiang Lan nodded, not refusing.

His presence surprised her—new to the city, she must remain cautious.

Mir Zhe, behind her and devouring the lotus chicken, eyed them contemptuously.

Despite the temptation of beauty, Jiang Lan did not forget her purpose. She glanced at Mir Zhe, still locked in battle with the chicken, “Don’t forget what we’re here for.”

As Jiumu lifted the boiling kettle, an unreadable thought flickered in his eyes, his gaze drifting to the young man at the side table, hurriedly wiping his hands.

A servant? He didn’t quite look the part.

Jiumu concealed his thoughts, focusing only on the teacups.

When Mir Zhe left, Jiang Lan soon followed, leaving a large silver note and a polite thank you, slipping away under the pretense of a restroom visit.

Only one remained in the opulent chamber.

He looked at the “payment for pleasure” left on the table and smiled in surprise.

From the corridor emerged a flamboyantly dressed lady, about thirty, her posture humble and submissive. “Would you like Lady Li to investigate this person?”

She played with a jade hairpin, its luster so fine even the wealthiest families would struggle to procure one; it surely belonged to a noble house. To give such a precious item away so freely—he knew of no other in Jiankang City who could match such extravagance and pure-heartedness.

At most, fifteen or sixteen years old—who could he be?

Yet judging by the attendant earlier, he didn’t seem to be rootless.

Who was he, then? The city’s prominent scions and noble heirs he could recall by heart, but he had never seen this one before.

He hadn’t come to Yilan Pavilion for pleasure—how interesting.

But no matter how intriguing, he mustn’t let anyone disrupt his grand plan.

“Keep an eye on him, and tell the staff to be discreet. Let them alone unless it’s urgent.”

“Yes.”

Lady Li picked up the payment as she left, transforming once more into the ostentatious madam outside.

Meanwhile, Jiang Lan was crouched at the window, eavesdropping.

Mir Zhe, providing cover, was anxious—so many people around! Hurry up, please!

Jiang Lan pressed herself to the wall, peeking through a tiny hole.

Inside, the room was markedly different, its screens and furnishings more suggestive. At the center, two men sat.

Both were disheveled—one delicate and boneless, the other strong and robust. Their roles were obvious.

Yet, Liu Heng was the one beneath—the sight made Jiang Lan burst out laughing.

“Who’s there?”

Jiang Lan lifted her robe and ran, Mir Zhe lagging behind, grumbling.

Once outside Yilan Pavilion and mingled into the crowd, both breathed a sigh of relief.

“How shall we deal with Liu Heng now?” Mir Zhe asked.

“Ruin his reputation first, of course,” Jiang Lan beckoned him closer, whispering a few words. Then, carefree, she ate and drank her way down the street, her mood so light her braid danced.

After the events at Yilan Pavilion, Jiang Lan intended to lounge about, even excusing her disciple’s morning greeting. Yet she received an imperial summons.

She was only nominally a male heir—was such frequent visits to the palace truly appropriate?

Lounging in the coach dispatched by the palace, she grumbled.

Day after day, would she never get a rest? But why summon her this time? It hadn’t been long since her last visit; even if the Empress Dowager missed her, she wouldn’t summon an outsider so often.

Besides, she was nearly fifteen—if a girl, she’d have already been married by now. Why did the Empress Dowager disregard the ministers’ opinions and call her so frequently?

Could it be about the Fang family incident yesterday?

She glanced at Eunuch Yu, who smiled without speaking, and surmised it was likely. If it was about the Fang family, all was well. If it was about last night’s gifting of the hairpin at Yilan Pavilion, all the better!

Perhaps she wouldn’t have to marry the late emperor’s princess after all. The thought made her sit even more elegantly—she must show she was unworthy of such a match, for the sake of royal dignity.

Silken robes, a golden fan, a pampered scion parading everywhere.

The late emperor’s betrothal was hard to revoke—even the emperor himself could not, filial piety being paramount. Thus, to break the engagement, only two ways: either the princess lost her virtue, or she herself was found lacking.

Her previous visits to pleasure houses hadn’t changed the Empress Dowager’s or the emperor’s minds. Now, only her own inadequacy remained.

Royalty would never allow their princess to marry a man indifferent to women, only to live alone all her days.

What a farce that would be.

Yet now, she might truly bear the name of a “cut sleeve,” but since she was a woman, it mattered little.

Upon reflection, this was the most straightforward solution. Even if she refused the princess, what then? She was heir to the Duke’s estate—without heirs of her own, the pressure would mount, and she’d have no choice but to marry.

Wouldn’t that ruin some poor girl’s life? Jiang Lan would never do such a heartless thing.

Yet, as she sat waiting, the Empress Dowager did not scold her. Instead, she spoke of her sister, Jiang Si.

“I see that Si’er is a good child. The family is thin on heirs, and you two depend on each other—it’s pitiful,” the Empress Dowager, Jiang Ke, stroked Jiang Lan’s hair. “At your young age, you’ve endured much. How about I grant you the title of County Princess, with the honorific ‘Chen’?”

Jiang Lan was taken aback, then quickly knelt in thanks. The Empress Dowager would not allow her to kneel for real, having Eunuch Yu help her up halfway, taking Jiang Lan’s hand and noting the calluses, “These hands are for writing and poetry, not for fighting. I’ll give you a few guards, so you won’t have to act yourself.”

Jiang Lan returned to her seat, glowing—it was indeed about the Fang family.

“You didn’t like it before, and I didn’t force you. Now you’re nearly fifteen—the emperor is younger by a few months, yet already learning statecraft. And you?”

Jiang Lan pouted, “I’d rather be a pampered noble scion.”

“Mischievous monkey! Who will hold up the Duke’s estate?” Jiang Ke laughed and scolded.

Jiang Lan clung to her sleeve, “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

The Empress Dowager wasn’t swayed, “Preparations are made. After the Duke of England’s wife’s birthday, you’ll enter the Imperial Academy and study properly.”

Seeing her resolve, Jiang Lan knew she was doomed.

She tried to ease things, but the Empress Dowager mused aloud, “Your father was the famed scholar of Chen, and your mother a renowned talent among noblewomen. How did they produce a child like you…”

For the first time, Jiang Lan heard such information about her parents from the Empress Dowager, and her curiosity piqued, her snacking slowed.

When she staggered out of the palace, all her odd behavior was dismissed by the Empress Dowager as the antics of a mischievous monkey upon hearing she must study.

Yet Jiang Lan’s thoughts lingered on the Jiang Jie couple—the golden boy and jade girl, gifted and accomplished. How had they produced someone like her?

Not that the original owner was bad, but her looks—sometimes, even in the mirror, Jiang Lan had to admit, truly…so very ordinary.

From afar, she looked neat; up close, acceptable; but lost in a crowd, she’d never be found.

Could such parents really have produced such a child? Then she recalled the shadowy, severe figure from her dreams, and the look of disdain…

Indeed, this body hid secrets.

“Your Highness, this way please.”

Jiang Lan came to herself, already in the Imperial Garden. She remembered the path ahead—it was the one she’d passed earlier, but Eunuch Yu pointed to a different route she’d never taken.

Jiang Lan grew wary, touching the brocade pouch at her waist, which held the divine bag containing Chifeng. Should she release it? Yet the palace was shrouded in purple energy; if Chifeng emerged, it might suffer suppression—at best, injury; at worst, damage to its spirit.

But if she didn’t release it, what if danger came too swiftly?

She regretted not bringing a few talismans, but in these deep palace courtyards, if mistaken for witchcraft, what then?

As Jiang Lan pondered escape, Eunuch Yu spoke.

“Do not worry, Your Highness—the other path is where Concubine Shang is enjoying the scenery. I feared…”

Jiang Lan waved her hand, indicating she understood.

She asked, almost casually, “Concubine Shang?”

Eunuch Yu paused, then smiled, “You must have been closely guarded by the old Duke, not knowing much.”

Jiang Lan smiled awkwardly, thinking: how could she know, not being the stabbed Jiang Lan.

“Concubine Shang is the mother of Princess Ningyuan…”

Jiang Lan patted her chest, relieved—luckily she hadn’t run into her. Concubine Shang was not here for pleasantries; she’d come to corner her. In the Empress Dowager’s palace, she couldn’t speak freely, so she waited in the garden, hoping to catch Jiang Lan on her way out—how fortunate she’d avoided her!