Yu Lingxin’s youthful affections were utterly lingering and sorrowful. He released lanterns by the lake with such mournful tenderness that Jiang Nong and Chao Ning’s legs went completely numb from crouching. Jiang Nong wanted to speak to Chao Ning, and Chao Ning wanted to speak to Jiang Nong—but neither dared, so they could only squat silently, shifting their weight from leg to leg, occasionally swatting at mosquitoes.
Chao Ning was bursting with restlessness. He leaned close to Jiang Nong’s ear and whispered: “I’m almost moved myself, hearing that. Are you really not the least bit touched? If someone stayed up late into the night, just to—”
Jiang Nong drew circles in the dirt with her finger, elbowed him, and breathed: “Shut up—he might hear us.”
“It’s so far away though—”
“Sister? Am I interrupting something?”
Jiang Nong and Chao Ning both looked up in alarm.
Yu Lingxin had somehow appeared before them without a sound.
They had been hiding so well—how had he found them?
Under their gaze, Yu Lingxin’s grip on his lantern tightened involuntarily. A flicker of hurt passed through his eyes, and his voice carried a hint of tears: “I’m sorry. I only caught the scent of your incense on the wind as I passed by, and I thought… I thought you had come looking for me…”
“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to disturb you.” With that, he gave Jiang Nong one long, deep look, pressed his lips together, and turned away. In that single glance were sorrow, regret, and self-blame.
Even Chao Ning felt unsettled by that look—like a betrayed wife and a suffering, forbearing husband, and he the interloper.
He rubbed his nose, never imagining that the bloodthirsty tyrant of years to come could be so pure and gentle as a fawn in the mountains. Seeing Jiang Nong staring after Yu Lingxin’s retreating figure, he warned her again: “Don’t go soft.”
If they failed, he might not be the one to suffer—but what about his mother?
Jiang Nong withdrew her gaze: “Don’t worry. I’ve already made my move twice. I won’t waver on the third.”
During his stay in the palace, Chao Ning spent his days either touring the scenic spots or mingling with the princes and princesses at the academy.
With few restrictions between men and women, his presence always drew a trail of admiring young ladies.
“No wonder they call him the most handsome man in Dang—truly dashing and elegant.”
“If only he were a little taller—like Yu Lingxin, that would be perfect.”
“Don’t mention him—you’ll bring bad luck.”
Chao Ning smiled at everyone he met, spreading love and kindness equally to all—except toward Jiang Nong, whom he treated with extra warmth. Beyond being cousins, it seemed as though they had known each other for years.
When Jiang Nong practiced dance in the music pavilion, he would sit beside her and play the xiao in accompaniment. When she finished, he would applaud enthusiastically, showering her with endless praise—flowery words tumbling effortlessly from his silver tongue.
Jiang Yuan joined Jiang Nong in the imperial garden to catch up on their lessons. After scribbling just a few characters, she began twirling her brush absently, her thoughts wandering: “Chao Ning is quite good—the most handsome man in Dang, a man whose beauty could rival Wei Jie’s. And you’re cousins. Pity you’d have to marry far away, and with a personality like his, there’d surely be a flock of beauties around him.”
“As for Yu Lingxin—I’ve given him some thought too. If Chao Ning is Dang’s number one, then Yu Lingxin might just have a shot at being the most handsome man across all five kingdoms. But his birth is too low—you’d be dragged down with him. Still, at least you wouldn’t have to marry far away. That’s a plus.”
Jiang Nong scrunched up her face and tapped Jiang Yuan’s hand with her brush: “Just write already—we’ll practice dance together later.”
At the mention of dance, Jiang Yuan’s face crumpled even more pitifully than Jiang Nong’s.
She was hopeless at physical activities, couldn’t tell wheat from beans, and was no good at the six arts. All she wanted was to eat, drink, and watch plays. Who knew she’d have to perform at every festival? She only prayed she wouldn’t make a fool of herself.
With Jiang Nong’s help, Jiang Yuan’s lessons at least didn’t drag on until the dead of night, forcing Xifeng to work alongside her.
When the two arrived at the music pavilion, Yu Lingxin had clearly been waiting there for some time.
He cradled something in his arms, tucked away in an inconspicuous corner, reading.
The moment he noticed Jiang Nong’s arrival, he approached and timidly offered her two packages: “Sister, these are dried apricots I made myself. For you—they won’t make you gain weight. I noticed you haven’t been eating much these days.”
“This one is for you, and this one is for Prince Chao Ning—I hope he likes them too.”
After saying this, he managed a strained smile for Jiang Nong.
Clearly heartbroken, yet to make his beloved happy, he went out of his way to please the one she cared for.
“I don’t need them. Keep them for yourself.” Jiang Nong prayed that Yu Lingxin would stop appearing before her, and stop doing these things to win her favor.
Even though she believed what she was doing was righteous, seeing Yu Lingxin like this made her feel an unbearable guilt.
Being consumed by such emotions was not a comfortable feeling.
Even if Yu Lingxin had misunderstood that night, thinking she was secretly meeting Chao Ning and that they were mutually in love, Jiang Nong had no reason to explain. Let him misunderstand—let him keep misunderstanding. Perhaps he would even give up on her.
“…I’m not dirty, Sister. I made these very cleanly.” Yu Lingxin hesitated for a long moment before finally murmuring.
Jiang Nong had always been softhearted. Those words of his struck her like a knife straight through the chest. She wanted to drop to her knees and beg Yu Lingxin to just leave her sight—to obediently meet his fate at the hunt, and stop tormenting her conscience.
Jiang Nong remained silent, and Yu Lingxin only grew more flustered.
“Sister—have I made things difficult for you again? I’m sorry. I just wanted you to be happy.”
He eagerly pressed the dried apricots into Jiang Nong’s hands. She wouldn’t take them, and the oil-paper package fell to the ground, scattering the apricots everywhere.
Yu Lingxin stared at the fruit preserves he had made with his own hands, now scattered in the dirt. His body stiffened. He said nothing more, only crouched down slowly and picked them up one by one, brushing them clean.
Jiang Nong took a deep breath. Her body overruled her mind—she crouched down as well and helped him gather them: “I truly, truly don’t need these. You could have someone take them outside the palace to sell—save up the money, take good care of yourself. Don’t do these things for me anymore.”
At her words, Yu Lingxin’s body swayed slightly, as if in disbelief. After a moment’s delay, he gave her a shy smile: “Alright. Since you’re concerned about me, I’ll listen to you.”
His outstretched hand was long-fingered and clean, with distinct knuckles, nails trimmed neat and round—save for a few scabbed-over cuts on his fingertips.
Only then did Jiang Nong remember that one of his eyes was bad. His lamp oil was never bright enough—he must have cut himself at night, removing the pits from the apricots.
She wrapped the apricots up, placed them back in Yu Lingxin’s arms, and hurried into the music pavilion.
Yu Lingxin cradled the apricots, a faint smile on his lips as he watched her go.
He knew it. Sister had the softest heart.
Yu Lingxin hated that she was softhearted toward everyone—that as long as someone was pitiful, as long as they showed weakness, her reason would crumble and her actions would outrun her thoughts. But he also knew that was exactly why she pitied him, why she cared for him.
Jiang Yuan had been watching the whole scene with great interest, her eyes bright with amusement. As she practiced her “Plucking the Vines” dance, sleeves already swirling, she twirled to Jiang Nong’s side as the singer crooned, “Deep is my grief—I go and do not return.” Bubbling with excitement, she said: “I’ve been thinking—you look so lovesick and troubled, and Yu Lingxin doesn’t seem to mind being the lesser one. When you marry off to Dang, just take him along as a dowry attendant. In the old days, princesses always took concubine attendants with them—what’s a male concubine or two? He seems perfectly virtuous and obedient to me.”
Jiang Nong was indeed troubled by Yu Lingxin, but not over marriage. Her indecision was growing stronger, and so was her pity for him. She flicked her sleeve to push Jiang Yuan back into place: “Setting aside the fact that I’m nowhere near marriageable age—even if I were to marry into Dang, it would be a political alliance. How could I do as I please? Don’t say such things. None of it is what I want to hear.”
Jiang Yuan spun in a circle and danced away.
The dried apricots Yu Lingxin couldn’t give to Jiang Nong eventually made their way into Chao Ning’s hands.
Chao Ning said to Jiang Nong with heartfelt sympathy: “How dare I eat something he gave me? I had someone secretly take it out and throw it away.” Why did he have to be secret about discarding something from a hostage prince? Naturally, because of the shadow Yu Lingxin had left on Chao Ning in their past life.
“If you don’t want them, just give them back. Throwing them away isn’t right—he made them himself, and his eyesight is bad…” Jiang Nong stopped mid-sentence, sighed, and said no more.
She didn’t know whom she was angry at—more at herself for being so indecisive.
Chao Ning threw up his hands, exasperated: “Nongnong! You have to be ruthless! Sacrifice one to save the world—that’s worth it. And even setting that aside, if you don’t look out for yourself, heaven and earth will destroy you. For your own future, you have to let Yu Lingxin go.”
Jiang Nong picked at her fingers in silence. After a long while, she gave a soft “Mm.”
Five days later, the royal entourage moved to Nishan Hunting Grounds.
A thousand chariots thundered, ten thousand horsemen swarmed—the Imperial Guard’s iron armor surged like a tide at the forefront, banners fluttering, canopies like clouds. Crowds lined both streets—commoners come to watch the spectacle. For the Empress Dowager’s birthday, palace maids scattered copper coins and osmanthus blossoms along the way, the fragrance filling the air as children scrambled to gather them.
Outside the palace, resources were thinner—not as well-stocked as within. A princess of Jiang Nong’s middling standing naturally didn’t receive the same treatment as Jiang Yuan or Jiang Su, who each got their own large tent. The Court of the Imperial Treasury had placed her in the same tent as Jiang Miao.
After a night’s rest, the next morning began with the slaughter of livestock for sacrifice to heaven and earth, and divination of fortune. The Court of Imperial Sacrifices presided over the ritual. On such occasions, even if the omens were great misfortune, they had to be interpreted as great fortune.
Jiang Nong stood toward the back, unnoticed by anyone.
The wind was strong on the mountain, blowing strands of her hair onto her painted lips. She lowered her head to tidy them, and after a moment, realized the wind had stopped. Glancing sideways, she saw Yu Lingxin had shifted his position, blocking the wind for her. He gave her a small smile.
Jiang Nong pretended to look around casually, following the ritual prostrations led by the ritual officials.
The hunt itself would take place on the third day. The emperor, empress, and Empress Dowager would feast with the consorts and princesses, awaiting the results of the young princes and nobles’ hunt. The one with the most prey would receive additional rewards. Promising young officers of the Imperial Guard would also participate—a single chance might bring them directly to the emperor’s attention and launch their fortunes. Everyone was putting in their utmost effort.
The eunuchs of the Court of the Imperial Treasury had polished and prepared their riding and archery gear, delivering each set. The emperor gave a few words of encouragement, and the young men scattered like eagles taking flight.
Jiang Nong knew Yu Lingxin had looked at her before leaving. She dared not lift her head, only knelt before her low table, tracing patterns on the cup with her fingernail.
At the head of the seating, Empress Dowager Fu’s clouded gaze swept across the many women below, finally settling on a young girl not far away. She wore a water-blue skirt that made her complexion look even more translucent and delicate. Her dark hair was neatly arranged in a bun. Quiet, eyes downcast, she said nothing—her features were bright as spring water, full of vitality, yet her lips were pressed together, clearly burdened with worry.
She summoned the eunuch beside her and asked: Who is that?
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