Chapter 8: I'll Go Join the Fun

Prince Zhao's manor. Tingzhu Pavilion.

The window lattice stood half-open, letting in a courtyard of cold morning light. Yan Chen sat alone at the window, an unfinished game of Go spread before him.

He held a black stone between his fingertips, hesitating to place it.

The board was a mosaic of black and white—deceptively peaceful, but killing intent lurked beneath. The white stones' great dragon had been encircled by black, missing only the final, fatal strike.

"Your Highness."

Wei Feng's deliberately hushed voice came from beyond the door.

Yan Chen didn't lift his eyes. He simply set the black stone down with a soft click.

Severing the white dragon's only escape route in a single move.

"Enter."

Wei Feng pushed the door open, strode forward, dropped to one knee, and presented an object with both hands.

The celadon jade lotus hairpin.

"Your Highness, we've traced it."

"This pin came from the Gulan Studio in the Eastern Market. The shopkeeper says it was a coming-of-age gift, specially commissioned by Madam Qiu—the Grand General of State Protection's wife—for her niece, Yu Qinghe."

"Yu Qinghe..."

Yan Chen repeated the name slowly, his fingertips tracing the smooth surface of a Go stone without conscious thought.

"Yes." Wei Feng continued. "Her parents died years ago—killed by bandits while traveling to a distant post. The entire family perished. She was the only survivor."

"She was taken into the general's estate at age ten. Madam Su raised her as her own daughter. Dotes on her something fierce."

"Oh?" A humorless curve lifted the corner of Yan Chen's mouth. "How interesting."

A dependent orphan—where would she find the nerve to scheme against Shen Zhaoye? And where would she find the nerve to offend him?

His thoughts turned inevitably to the Grand General of State Protection, Su Qing.

The old fox who held the capital's military power—outwardly neutral, in practice slippery as an eel.

Could it be that he'd finally grown tired of playing neutral and wanted to use this niece to enter the game, stirring up a storm of his own?

"One more thing." Wei Feng looked up. "Tomorrow is the Flower God Festival. The Duchess of Mu is hosting a banquet at her country estate, inviting young ladies of the capital for a spring outing and flower-viewing."

"The Su family women—including this Miss Yu—are on the guest list. They'll be attending."

Hearing this, Yan Chen's gaze finally left the Go board. It landed on a gold-traced invitation resting beside the board.

The Duke of Mu's estate had sent it over that morning.

He usually couldn't be bothered with these women-heavy social events—they were typically handled by the manor's steward.

Now, though, he reached over and picked up the invitation. His thumb brushed the delicate vine patterns embossed on the card.

"Flower God Festival... flower-viewing?"

His lips curved, but his eyes held no warmth—just a cold current beneath a layer of ice.

"How lively."

He tossed the invitation back onto the table and picked up a white stone, rolling it slowly between his fingers.

"Tomorrow, I'll go join the fun."

A chill ran through Wei Feng. He bowed immediately. "Understood. I'll make the arrangements."

The door closed softly.

The stone in Yan Chen's fingers grew warm from the friction. It made him think, suddenly, of that woman's pale, elegant neck.

"Yu Qinghe..."

He gave a soft, amused laugh.

Such a slender, beautiful neck. One little snap, and it would break, wouldn't it?

Flower God Festival. Clear skies.

Lizi hauled Su Ruan out of bed at first light and planted her in front of the vanity, rubbing her hands together with glee.

"Miss, today we have to make you look stunning!"

She shook out the cherry blossom pink gossamer dress. The gold-edged begonia blossoms caught the morning light, shimmering.

"Look at this color! So bright!"

Su Ruan peeked at it with sleepy eyes. It really was gorgeous.

Lizi eagerly brought over the tourmaline jewelry set. The red-gold settings held tourmalines of varying shades, carved into cascading grape clusters—each stone plump and luminous.

"And this! I stared at it under the lamp last night for ages. The more I looked, the more I knew it was made for you!"

Su Ruan let her have at it.

Lizi worked efficiently. She styled Su Ruan's dark hair into a youthful "chasing clouds" coiffure, pinned a tourmaline side-comb at the temple, and centered a tourmaline grape hairpin at the crown. The dangling tassels swayed with every movement, scattering tiny sparks of light.

Then came the makeup.

Lizi was about to follow the usual routine—caking on thick powder, drawing thin willow-leaf brows, painting a tiny cherry mouth—in faithful imitation of Yu Qinghe's style.

Su Ruan stopped her fast.

"Wait."

She studied her reflection in the bronze mirror.

The original Su Ruan's beauty was, in truth, extraordinary. Brows dark without needing paint. Lips red without needing color. Her peach-blossom eyes carried a natural allure, the outer corners tilting up just so—every glance seemed to hold a trace of affection.

It was just that those drab clothes and heavy makeup had been suppressing it all along, forcing a ten-out-of-ten face down to a five, and adding a layer of forced, tacky artificiality on top.

"I'll do it myself today."

Su Ruan took the powder from Lizi and applied the thinnest possible layer. For rouge, she chose a natural apricot pink, sweeping it lightly at her cheeks, then dabbing just a touch on her lips.

Then she changed into the cherry blossom dress.

The skirt fell in rich layers. The waist was cinched tight, emphasizing a full bust and a slender, supple waist.

"Done."

Su Ruan turned to Lizi.

"Miss..."

Lizi stared, mouth hanging open. It took her a long moment to find her voice.

"You look... you look too good!"

"Really! I've never seen you look this beautiful! Those moon-white and pale jade dresses could never do you justice! I'm throwing out every last one of them when we get back!"

Su Ruan examined herself from multiple angles, quite satisfied.

The vivid dress had finally unleashed her striking features in full. She was gorgeous as the ripest begonia on the branch—alive, unapologetic, bursting with color.

She touched her own cheek. The depression of being transmigrated into the wrong character finally eased, just a little.

That useless customer service bot got one thing right: this face is seriously, ridiculously gorgeous...

"Miss! The Madam sent someone to hurry you!"

A young maid's call came from outside.

Lizi slapped her forehead. "Oh no, I was so busy admiring you I almost made us late! Let's go, let's go!"

She hurried Su Ruan out the door, still chattering cheerfully. "Every lady at the banquet today is going to be outshone. Just watch!"

The Su estate gates. Carriages were already waiting.

Qiu Wanrou's carriage stood at the front, its curtain drawn—she was already inside, waiting.

Two girls stood outside the carriage.

One was Yu Qinghe. She wore the pale blue magnolia-embroidered ruqun from yesterday, the freshwater pearl set in her hair. Her entire presence was refined and cool—a lotus rising from water.

The other was a girl of about fifteen or sixteen, dressed in a buttercup yellow skirt embroidered with gold butterflies flitting through flowers. Her hair was styled in twin loops, pinned with a pair of red-gold butterfly hairpins. Pretty, in a pert, lively way.

Shi Shuyu. Daughter of the Minister of Rites.

She and Yu Qinghe were close friends. At the moment, she was clinging affectionately to Yu Qinghe's arm, chattering nonstop.

"...Qinghe jiejie, you're too soft-hearted, waiting out here for her? When has Su Ruan ever not dragged her feet till the very last second?"

Yu Qinghe explained gently, "Ruan Ruan's feet are injured. She can't move easily. Waiting a bit longer is no trouble."

"Injured feet?" Shi Shuyu scoffed. "More like an excuse. Probably in there right now, scheming over how to dress up and steal the spotlight!"

She leaned in closer, voice dripping with mockery.

"But all that effort is wasted. She can dress up like a proper lady all she wants—the moment she opens her mouth, the truth comes out. Everyone knows she's a bimbo."

Yu Qinghe's brow creased. She was just about to speak—

"Who are you calling a bimbo?"