Chapter 16

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“There’s such a method?” Hanyue was slightly stunned, murmuring, “But he’s a eunuch...”
“Ah—being a eunuch does complicate matters,” Qingwu relaxed her brow, teasing Hanyue deliberately.
Perhaps because Hanyue rarely smiled and had always appeared as if ready to risk her life since they met, Qingwu had never heard her speak up for anyone before. So if she was to help, she would—though a bit of teasing was necessary first.
Hearing this, Hanyue’s expression indeed softened, and she immediately felt her previous behavior was presumptuous. “I deserve punishment! To trouble the princess with such personal matters...”
“Is it the little eunuch from Father’s hall just now?” Qingwu’s lips curled into a knowing smile.
She had sensed something unusual between Hanyue and that little eunuch in the hall; they must at least be acquainted.
Judging by his cleverness in speech and action, he was not a cunning scoundrel, and given Hanyue’s straightforward nature, her judgment was quite sound.
The three girls were also of age now; Qingwu was looking for trustworthy people. After much thought, it was best they choose whom they themselves favored.
Hanyue hadn’t expected the princess to notice the subtle expressions she made before the emperor, and instantly felt a great dereliction of duty. “I am not involved with him in any improper way; it’s just that before being sold by my parents to a slave trader...”
“Hanyue!” Ningchun interrupted hastily, seeing her so anxious she could hardly speak clearly. Also, with so many people outside, their identities had to remain a secret to avoid exposing the princess’s vulnerabilities.
Qingwu’s face bore a smile; from any angle, she did not appear angry.
There was a hint of confusion in Hanyue’s eyes, but more so, guilt.
She shouldn’t have spoken so rashly and caused the princess distress.
“Knowing it’s him is enough,” Qingwu said, turning to Cheng, the carriage driver. “Go back and inform Madam Zhao. Tell her I’ve asked her to handle this.”
“But it’s not easy to get the service contract for a eunuch in the palace,” Zhixue expressed concern.
“Let Madam Zhao get him out first, then arrange a new contract,” Qingwu said with a smile. “When I have time, I’ll speak to Father again.”
Getting someone out of the palace was the simplest thing for her.
Hanyue hadn’t expected the princess to go to such lengths for a mere maid. Tears welled up suddenly, but she held them back.
Qingwu teased, “Oh? What’s this? Hanyue, who never blinks at bloodshed, is shedding tears now?”
Worried, Hanyue pulled Qingwu aside. “Lord Pei wanted to escape from the mansion anyway, but the princess took him around everywhere. Isn’t that just what he wanted?”
If he ran away again, the princess’s coming-of-age ceremony would be in jeopardy.
Qingwu was not too concerned. Taking the signal flare secretly passed from Hanyue’s sleeve, she whispered into her ear as if assigning a private mission, “The mansion can afford to keep a spare. If anything happens, break his legs.”

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“Everyone go back now.” Qingwu stood urging the others to return to the mansion. Zhixue glanced back every few steps, afraid something might happen to Qingwu in an instant.
The carriage wheels left two parallel tracks along the riding path. Ningchun forced herself to remain calm, thinking that the princess’s sudden decision would likely keep their movements secret.
She glanced discreetly backward, watching the princess’s figure gradually blend with the elegant silhouette behind her, shrinking into a solitary white speck.
Qingwu watched the group depart with her own eyes, then her entire being blossomed with an indescribable joy.
“You don’t know, that girl Hanyue often hides in the shadows to watch over me.”
Pei Muci was amused by her satisfied expression; his deep eyes gleamed with a light even he hadn’t noticed.
Brilliant as stars.
Qingwu exhaled deeply, savoring the rare “breather” as she plunged into the bustling worldly scene.
The orange-red glow of dusk gradually dimmed, clouds like thin golden-red veils accompanied the setting sun sinking below the horizon.
Lanterns were lit layer upon layer; the dilapidated sparrow tower entwined with old vines by day became the highest beacon of light at night. Beneath it condensed the most lively long alley night market in the capital. The once desolate streets, dulled by southern warfare, now displayed a unique splendor under the brilliant lights.
“Let’s go there!” Qingwu said eagerly, not noticing she stood right in the middle of the main street.
Passersby on both sides, sensing she was a young lady of considerable wealth despite her simple attire, respectfully kept their distance.
“Hey!” Suddenly, a muffled whistle came from nearby, blatantly directed at Pei Muci, “Such a pretty young lady, sir, you better keep your eyes on her!”
Qingwu was lost in her own plans for the evening, startled by the unfamiliar voice, frozen, unsure whether to advance or retreat.
She turned with a faint frown to see who would dare speak so brazenly in broad daylight.
Before her was a stooped old man whose wrinkles seemed filled with yellow earth from the fields. His wheelbarrow was loaded with various unrecognizable farming tools, and sitting at the front was a chubby toddler with wide eyes, drooling onto the little scarf around his neck.
By their ages, they must be grandfather and grandson.
Seeing the old man’s kind face and calm demeanor as he stopped the heavily laden wheelbarrow behind her, Qingwu instantly forgot the scolding she was about to give.
Pei Muci stretched out his long arm, pulled her into his embrace, and cleared the path.
Qingwu bumped into the fresh scent of cedar, awkwardly brushing against it.
If they were back at the princess’s mansion, she would have clung to Pei Muci, teasing and bantering as he was the one who first extended the olive branch.
But here, with so many people around, she did not want him to appear frail and weak in public.
“Be careful.” Pei Muci drew her arm closer, puzzled by her sudden struggle, and looked down at her.
Qingwu hadn’t expected him to accept such closeness. She looked up, meeting the profound depths of his eyes reflecting countless dazzling lights ahead.
She felt inexplicably happy, eyes curved and lips lifted; moonlight poured down gently, warming even the arc of his jade bow.

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The old man’s legs were steady as he placed the wheelbarrow handles on his waist and pushed forward with effort.
Seeing the clingy couple, he seemed reminded of something and chuckled kindly twice.
As they passed, Pei Muci lowered his hand, relaxed his grip, and released her.
Qingwu had just raised an eyebrow when his low voice whispered in her ear, “I fear offending Her Highness.”
His tone was soft, like the gentle flow of water through a bamboo grove, breeze brushing the face, cool spring sliding over fingertips.
Qingwu suddenly realized she had only changed into a plain outer robe without adjusting her unmarried hairstyle.
“I’m not afraid,” she said quickly, removing the hairpin in three swift moves. Her smooth hair instantly fell to her waist.
The faint sweetness of the hair oil smelled like frozen grapes from a summer ice cellar, cascading down her dark tresses and softening the sharp cedar scent on Pei Muci.
He bowed his head, as if longing to let her black hair slip through his fingers.
Qingwu raised the corner of her brow, glared at him, and unabashedly forced her hand into his palm.
His hand was unusually cool but soft.
In her mind, a small cluster of fireworks slowly rose and burst brilliantly. Unsure what to do next, she stubbornly held his hand, her slender fingers entwining his.
Fortunately, Pei Muci regained composure, his thumb gently stroking her knuckles, gradually adjusting to her warmth, and squeezing her hand back.
The cool fingertips warmed by her touch seemed to carve a place for her smile in his heart.
“Sir, please buy a bouquet for the lady.”
A clear child’s voice broke their intimate moment, holding a basket of flowers into their sight.
The boy was about five or six, with two crooked little pigtails and bright eyes that made it impossible to refuse him.
Moreover, the flowers were truly beautiful—large clusters of tender pink petals wrapped around plump stamens, their bases pure white like freshly fallen snow, reminiscent of the lotus fairy’s robes in traditional paintings, pure and natural in beauty.
Qingwu pinched the boy’s chubby cheeks and examined the other buds in the basket.
Pei Muci usually wore simple hairpins made of agarwood or jade.
The white robes of freshly fallen snow complemented his restrained and ethereal demeanor—handsome but tinged with a cold aloofness.
She picked up a crimson peony, hoping the vivid color would soften the distant depths beneath his sword-like brows.
And, of course... to feast her eyes.