After Jiang Nong’s vigorous arguments and Yu Lingxin’s stubborn resistance, Jiang Nong’s birthday banquet went ahead as planned—but was combined with the Deer Singing Banquet. Meaning Jiang Nong only had to put up with one public appearance.
For her birthday, alms would be distributed for three days—meaning at least the common people who received the charity would sincerely wish the Empress a long life, so they could have free meat and noodles at this time every year.
Only the Imperial Secretariat had to bear the extra burden. Originally, the exam results were supposed to be released in mid-April. But to coincide with the Empress’s birthday, they rushed to release them in early April, in time for the Deer Singing Banquet.
Minister Shen Chunlou, after enduring all kinds of hardships and trials, achieved seventh place overall—slightly less impressive than in his previous life, since he’d had three more years of preparation then compared to now.
In his previous life, there had been no special examination that year. The following year, his mother passed away, and after three years of mourning, he caught Yu Lingxin’s special examination. In any case, it was his destiny to work for Yu Lingxin his whole life.
Jiang Nong had long heard of Shen Chunlou but had never met him. The banquet was crowded. The top three scholars led the successful candidates in thanking the emperor. She searched for a while but couldn’t spot him. She tugged Yu Lingxin’s sleeve and asked where Shen Chunlou was.
“You’re curious about him?!”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Why would you be? What’s so interesting about him? Why aren’t you curious about anyone else?” Yu Lingxin opened his mouth, but held back his sharp words—mindful that today was Jiang Nong’s birthday.
Jiang Nong hummed in acknowledgment and, following his lead, asked: “Then who’s the top scorer? I’m curious about him too.”
Yu Lingxin let out two deep breaths: “Why do you have to be curious about other people at all? I can’t see clearly—don’t ask me.”
He might as well have said: don’t give your attention to anyone else, only look at me.
Stingy.
Jiang Nong ignored him. He couldn’t do anything about it—his pride wouldn’t let him say “you can’t look at anyone else, can’t care about anyone else, only I should be in your eyes.” After all, he was someone who would hate Jiang Nong right back if she hated him.
Jiang Nong’s gaze swept the room and finally settled on a young man.
She was certain—this was Shen Chunlou.
That cloud-overhead, half-dead aura stood out uniquely among the crowd of ambitious, triumphant faces. He carried a quiet resignation, as if he’d been repeatedly beaten down by fate.
Shen Chunlou was legendary even in Jiang Nong’s previous life—because of his peculiar luck: small misfortunes, big fortunes. For example, he’d always encounter bandits when traveling far. The first few times, he’d scream in terror—but he gradually got used to it, because before the bandits could execute him, the army would always arrive to suppress them. And when they didn’t, he’d developed a complete self-rescue system.
His life was a constant rollercoaster of disaster and deliverance.
Having been beaten down by fate for so long, experiencing both great sorrow and great joy, Shen Chunlou was always calm. Calm in the face of hardship, calm during exams, calm at banquets—possessing a composure befitting someone who could watch a mountain collapse without flinching.
By all rights, as seventh place, he should have been assigned to a local post. But Yu Lingxin broke precedent and promoted him to the capital, tasking him with piloting the land tax reform in the capital region.
Instantly, eight hundred thoughts flashed through everyone’s minds. Most thought he was doomed. A newcomer with no connections, entrusted with such a heavy responsibility—to pilot an imperfect land tax law. If he succeeded, fine. If not, his career was over before it began. And the probability of success was barely one in ten. How could a newcomer possibly coordinate with officials across various departments?
Clearly, His Majesty was using him as a scapegoat to give the people an answer.
Unlucky. Truly unlucky.
Their gazes fell on this unlucky fellow. His fellow examinees breathed sighs of relief—if this had fallen on them, it would have been a disaster of epic proportions!
Shen Chunlou simply thanked His Majesty, as calmly as ever.
He didn’t actually know how to do it either—but he’d try his best. It wasn’t like he’d die. If he succeeded, he’d get promoted. If not, he’d go back to farming.
Jiang Nong watched him for a while and said: “So young—early twenties? Quite handsome, and steady too.” Most importantly, he had a bright future.
Yu Lingxin gave her a cold glance, then shot a cold glance at Shen Chunlou.
Jiang Nong beckoned to Rong Mian behind her: “Mianmian, go have an extra plate of carp-shaped steamed buns brought to each of the new scholars. ‘Carp leaping over the dragon gate’—add some festive luck.”
Rong Mian, who’d been itching to do something, happily led the attendants away.
Yu Lingxin’s clenched fist was pried open by Jiang Nong. She nudged his shoulder: “Now I see why people love playing matchmaker. Mianmian is a bit silly and easily flustered. I think Shen Chunlou seems quite nice.”
The tension in Yu Lingxin’s jaw released—as if he hadn’t been the one with the cold face moments ago. He glanced at Shen Chunlou and suddenly became approving: “Mm, he is rather good.”
“Did he have a wife in his previous life? If they had a good relationship, forget it.”
Yu Lingxin realized Jiang Nong was using him as a matchmaker. He actually had to think about that one. By the time he died, Shen Chunlou still hadn’t married—he was worn out like a dog every day, barely catching his breath.
He shook his head at Jiang Nong.
Jiang Nong didn’t know—not only Shen Chunlou, but most of Yu Lingxin’s trusted aides in his previous life were unmarried. One widower who’d lost his wife, another widower with a child. Their resentment could feed all the lonely ghosts in Fengye. With their odd tempers, they worked themselves like mules—and treated everyone around them like mules too.
The ministers hadn’t been without concern—fearing that one day, when His Majesty was in a bad mood, he’d make them taste the bitterness of losing their families too.
Before long, Rong Mian returned cheerfully.
Jiang Nong asked how it went.
“How did what go?” Rong Mian was confused.
Yu Lingxin burst out laughing beside her.
Jiang Nong punched his thigh hard.
Normally, anyone sent to distribute steamed buns would understand what was going on. But Rong Mian was emotionally oblivious—she’d just taken a stroll and came back happy.
Jiang Nong realized she’d been too hasty. She’d revisit this in a few years.
They were too close. Lü Chengcheng hated being this near the imperial couple—close enough to see clearly when the Empress committed the treasonous act of punching His Majesty.
He closed his eyes in despair.
Han Yuncheng, standing beside him, also glanced upward, clicked his tongue, and seeing the Empress had been drinking, made small talk: “His Majesty has been married over half a year now—any news yet? The Imperial Clan Minister has had nothing to do for six months.”
The Imperial Clan Minister was responsible for the royal family’s genealogical records. Though ranked among the Nine Ministers, he held no real power—Han Yuncheng’s influence came from his backing of the Han clan.
The late emperor’s sons were all dead, his remaining bloodline too young, his brothers either under house arrest or enfeoffed elsewhere. Without consort selections, the Imperial Clan Minister was idle enough to pick his toes, hoping and praying the Empress would soon give birth to a crown prince—so they’d have work again and a chance to profit.
“Without a crown prince, the state lacks a stable foundation. This matter should be raised,” Lü Chengcheng’s clouded old eyes suddenly brightened.
Han Yuncheng was startled: “Actually, His Majesty is still young—there’s no rush, is there…” Who would bring it up? Who dared? Don’t make him the sacrificial lamb again.
Glasses clinked, music played, dancers whirled. Ministers exchanged toasts.
After assigning the new scholars’ posts and offering a few words of encouragement, Yu Lingxin left early with Jiang Nong.
Lü Chengcheng snorted—His Majesty was surely off to celebrate the Empress’s birthday alone. A real femme fatale.
Xi Kingdom truly had ill intentions—sending such a beauty to steal his soul!
Lü Chengcheng was right—but not entirely.
Yu Lingxin took Jiang Nong out of the palace.
The April breeze was intoxicating. Jiang Nong had been born in a good season—spring’s warmth and vitality, willows sprouting tender green, rivers babbling. Unlike Yu Lingxin, born in Tan when snow was already falling in October.
Tonight, for the Empress’s birthday, the curfew was lifted. The markets were as lively as the Lantern Festival. The capital magistrate had subsidized street performers. In the eastern quarter, there were dragon-fish dances, fire-swallowers, and sword-swallowers—crowds packed everywhere.
Willows swayed gently. Riverboats glowed with lanterns, singers’ voices melodious, blending into a song of peace and prosperity.
This was arguably Jiang Nong’s first time leaving the palace and coming to such a lively place.
Just her and Yu Lingxin. Everything felt fresh—even the wind in her breath tasted sweet, tasted of freedom.
She charged forward recklessly, and Yu Lingxin had to hold her sleeve, careful not to lose her in the crowd.
“Sugar figures~ Sugar figures~”
“Glutinous rice cakes, candied kumquats, osmanthus cakes—”
“Flatbreads, mutton soup—”
“Clay dolls—take a look?”
Passing a mutton soup stall, Jiang Nong darted forward like a rabbit—Yu Lingxin nearly lost her. His hand shifted from her sleeve to the back of her collar, pulling her back.
“So awkward—don’t grab my clothes,” Jiang Nong took his hand instead. “Isn’t this easier?”
Yu Lingxin’s fingertips trembled. The red lantern light cast warmth on his pale face: “So many people—everyone’s watching…”
His voice drowned in the noisy market. Jiang Nong didn’t hear him at all, dragging him from stall to stall.
Yu Lingxin looked down at Jiang Nong’s hand tightly clasping his, leading him through the streets and alleys.
If not for the marriage alliance, would Jiang Nong have eloped with him? Holding his hand like this, wandering through town on a festival day, stopping at stall after stall.
Probably not—her heart was too full of her mother.
Lost in thought, Yu Lingxin didn’t register what Jiang Nong was saying, only nodding absently.
“Don’t you think it looks just like you?”
“Mm, buy.”
“What are you ‘mm’ing about?” Jiang Nong elbowed him hard.
He followed her gaze—a big black-and-white dog wagging its tail at them, tongue lolling stupidly.
The stall owner eyed them warily and muttered: “That’s my dog. Not for sale even if he looks like someone.”
“HAHAHAHA—you’re so dumb—!!!”
Jiang Nong laughed so hard her stomach hurt. She crouched by the stall, face buried in her knees.
Yu Lingxin still held her hand. In the crowded street, passersby cast curious glances their way. He didn’t care. Watching her laugh until tears streamed down her face, he wiped the corner of her eye with his thumb and said softly: “You’re terrible.”
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