Chapter 13: The Crown Prince Defends His Own

...
Time flowed slowly between the blossoming and withering of flowers.
The fifteenth day of the third lunar month—a day considered most auspicious.

Princess Mingde, the eldest legitimate sister of the emperor’s mother, held an exalted status.
She delighted in flowers and also in the vibrant energy of the young noblemen and ladies who surrounded her.
Thus, every year on this day, she hosted a flower-viewing banquet, inviting the sons and daughters of Chang’an’s noble families to the Princess’s residence.

Before the banquet:
At the Grand Tutor’s mansion, Fu Jinhe sat before a bronze mirror, dressed in a delicate twelve-layered Xiu Xian skirt, adorned with pearls and jade, her ears decorated with bright moon-shaped earrings.
Her jade-like cheeks bore a subtle touch of powder and rouge, her eyebrows like distant, elegant mountains, her lips naturally red without the need for color.
Such a beauty, graceful and enchanting, exuding refined charm.

Yu Nanwan gently stroked Fu Jinhe’s hair with affection and said, “A’He, if you suffer any wrongs at the Princess’s residence, do not endure in silence; strike back as you wish.”
“All matters will be settled by the Grand Tutor’s household.”

The love of parents for their child runs deep and far-reaching.
Heaven alone knew how relieved she was when she learned that A’He’s heart had broken over Song Junyao—no longer needing to endure his cold disdain, no more tears of sorrow.
She only wished for A’He’s peace and health, to find a suitable husband, and a lifetime of happiness.

Yet, A’He had often been bullied and wronged at the Princess’s residence, where those schemers colluded to mock her at will.
How could she bear it?

Fu Jinhe raised her eyebrows slightly, brushing shyly against Yu Nanwan’s palm, speaking softly, “Mother, rest assured, A’He will be prudent.”

Yu Nanwan’s heart softened completely, filled with tenderness. “Very well, then A’He shall attend the banquet.”

Fu Jinhe rose and said to Yu Nanwan, “Mother, I’ll be back soon.”
She moved gracefully toward the door, her skirt swaying like fallen blossoms on a lake’s surface.

Today the sky was clear and bright, the vast heavens stretching without end.
Fu Jinhe lifted her gaze slightly, staring into the distance.
A faint smile played on her lips, yet her heart was as cold as ice.

This day would bring a fierce battle; every step that could ruin the plot she treaded as if walking on thin ice.
But she could not lose—she must win brilliantly.

...

At the Princess’s residence, in the garden, fragrant grasses swayed gently, and flowers competed in splendid bloom, filling the air with their scent.
Groups of young noble ladies and gentlemen gathered around stone tables, some brewing tea, others composing poetry or playing chess, laughter and frivolity filling the air.

Jiang Manxue chose the seat closest to the young man, casting seductive, meaningful glances at Song Junyao.
She licked her red lips, adopting an alluring posture.
To flirt secretly with A’Yao in front of so many was a unique form of amusement.

Song Junyao’s eyes darkened, his body warming.
In recent days, he had experienced unprecedented pleasure and excitement with A’Xue, leaving him longing for more.
Compared to the rigid and wooden Fu Jinhe, she was worlds apart.

He thought bitterly that it was Fu Jinhe who forced him into this situation; otherwise, how could he have fallen so quickly into A’Xue’s arms?
If she learned he had confessed to A’Xue and shared intimacy behind her back, she would surely regret her past decisions and suffer deeply.

Chu Changling, his arm still wrapped in bandages, noticed the exchanged glances between the pair, his gaze dark and brooding.
Since the incident on Yun Dian Mountain, when they were pursued by wolves, his mindset had shifted considerably.
In the past, he would have ignored it so long as Miss Jiang was happy.
But now, he wished he could give Song Junyao a good beating, and even felt a twinge of resentment toward Miss Jiang herself: why was he any less worthy than Song Junyao?

As for the Zhao brothers, one with a broken hand, the other with fractured bones, they were convalescing in the mansion.
The once close quartet of friends had quietly and silently fallen apart.

Suddenly, a servant’s call interrupted: “Miss Fu has arrived—”
Laughter and chatter ceased abruptly, and all eyes turned toward the source of the announcement.

Fu Jinhe entered the spring banquet with graceful poise and clear speech, each word a gem—unforgettable to those present.
She bent her slender waist, stepped lightly, and extended her fair wrist beneath sheer silk.
Her gaze was steady, her steps deliberate and composed as she approached an unoccupied stone table.

The warm spring sunlight gently bathed her flower-like, jade-like face as she moved and sat with serene composure.
Her inner strength made her seem alone yet as commanding as a crowd.

The expressions of those present shifted repeatedly, their gazes tinged with complexity.
Fu Jinhe had truly changed. Before, they despised and rejected her; now, she disdained to associate with them.

...

“Who does she think she is? Putting on such an aloof, self-admiring act is simply nauseating,” someone sneered with disdain.
“Could she be taking a new approach to catch the attention of Young General Song?”

Song Junyao’s gaze involuntarily followed Fu Jinhe, his handsome face darkening.
But the next moment, realizing his focus, he quickly withdrew his eyes like one avoiding a viper.

Jiang Manxue’s red lips curved slyly, her eyes flashing with a faint, poisonous glint.
Sure enough, A’Yao was unsettled by Fu Jinhe’s alternating cold and warm demeanor.
But so what? After today, Fu Jinhe’s name and reputation would be destroyed; she would be as lowly as an ant, no longer able to obstruct her true love for A’Yao.

Chu Changling’s eyes glared ominously at Fu Jinhe, as if he wished to bore holes through her.
“Wretch. She injured my arm; I will chop off her limbs and make her a living corpse.”

Fu Jinhe sensed these overly “enthusiastic” stares and tapped her jade fingers rhythmically on the stone table—one tap, two taps, three taps...
Each strike was steady and forceful, as if imbued with a cold cutting edge.

Then servants announced: “Princess Mingde has arrived—”
“The Crown Prince has arrived—”

Princess Mingde led the procession, dressed in regal sapphire robes, her hair adorned with precious gems, exuding majestic authority.
Shen Minglan stood beside her, supporting her and casting venomous glances at Fu Jinhe.

Fu Jinhe’s clear gaze met hers with a burning, icy flame, as if trying to see through her scheming heart.
Shen Minglan, feeling uneasy, averted her eyes.
When she realized this, she was furious—her mother was the legitimate eldest princess, a woman of great status, yet she still feared Fu Jinhe?

Behind them, a tall, upright figure stood like a majestic tree, aloof and unapproachable.
He was an extraordinary sight, like a jade tree in the wind, keeping others at a distance.

“Greetings, Princess, greetings, Crown Prince,” all rose, but inside were filled with astonishment.
The emperor was severe and suspicious, so imperial princes rarely attended events outside the palace to avoid suspicion of collusion with outsiders.
Yet the cold and indifferent Crown Prince had suddenly appeared—why?

Princess Mingde took her seat at the head table, her phoenix-like eyes sweeping over the assembled nobles with an unyielding aura of authority.
Then she smiled and said, “No need for formalities. Today this palace hosts a banquet; everyone should enjoy themselves without restraint.”

Everyone once again expressed their thanks in unison: “Thank you, Princess, thank you, Crown Prince.”

Following usual custom, the princess would enjoy wine and flowers at the head seat, watching the nobles entertain themselves below.
Soon, the banquet resumed its lively, youthful laughter.

Xiao Xuanyin sat upright, his gaze drifting toward Fu Jinhe seated alone by the stone table.
He wore a jade pendant near his heart, the warmth radiating as if imprinting deeply upon his rigid frame.

Repeatedly, he was “caught in the act” by Fu Jinhe, their eyes meeting.
She paused, then smiled gently at Xiao Xuanyin.
Xiao Xuanyin’s brow furrowed slightly; he nodded subtly and deliberately looked elsewhere, feigning calm.
But deep inside, a wild, luxurious desire surged, crashing like waves through every corner of his being.

A’He smiled at him—beautiful as a celestial fairy.
Where no one could see, his ears even flushed red for the first time.

Suddenly, the princess raised her voice: “Today the flowers bloom perfectly; I propose a poetry contest on the theme of flowers.”
She scanned the crowd, her oppressive gaze settling on Fu Jinhe: “Miss Fu shall begin, is that agreeable?”

The moment the words fell, the crowd looked at Fu Jinhe with schadenfreude.
Who in Chang’an did not know the Grand Tutor Fu was learned and erudite, yet had raised the uncouth Fu Jinhe?
Her poetry was nonsensical, a laughingstock.

Fu Jinhe stood, her serene face utterly calm, unafraid of the princess’s threatening stare.
For decades, the Grand Tutor’s and Princess’s households had no enmity, yet the princess always suppressed her, harming the Grand Tutor’s.
It was the workings of some twisted plot again. For her, a princess of the realm at this moment was insignificant.

Her eyes shallow but resolute, she said deliberately, “Your servant’s talents are limited; I dare not embarrass myself.”

A single stone cast into still water stirred a thousand waves.
The crowd chilled suddenly, staring at Fu Jinhe in disbelief.
Had she lost her mind? Where did she find such audacity?
Not only did she snub the princess’s face, she intended to mock her by refusing to perform.

The princess’s brow twitched violently, her face contorted.
She had sat in high office long enough that no one dared challenge her authority.
Yet now it was a mere young girl.

She laughed in anger, “Miss Fu, do you harbor resentment against me?”

Shen Minglan sneered coldly, “What a reckless creature.”
She stoked the fire, “I hear Miss Fu acts as she pleases in the Grand Tutor’s mansion; never thought she’d be so arrogant in the Princess’s residence.”

With the wall crumbling, many joined in denouncing her:
“Miss Fu is always like this—arrogant to the extreme; many have suffered because of her.”

...

“Princess, she disrespects you so—surely you must punish her harshly!”

Fu Jinhe’s clear eyes flickered with lively spirit.
Fighting alone, opposed by thousands—so what? She feared no one. Since she could say no, she already had a perfect plan.

Just as she was about to speak, a voice rang out, cold and restrained yet carrying a subtle chill:
“Composing poetry is a matter of personal taste.”
“If Miss Fu has no desire, why force her, Your Royal Highness?”

A rumble like distant thunder echoed from the horizon.

The crowd’s faces grew even more shocked than when Fu Jinhe had openly refused the princess—some were nearly terrified.
They looked as if they had seen a ghost as they turned to the towering figure of Xiao Xuanyin, looking like a god descending to earth.
Was this really the Crown Prince they knew?
He was elegant and aloof, never fond of women—yet now he defended a notorious viper?

Ripples stirred in Fu Jinhe’s heart, her fingertips tingling.
Just like in her previous life, she thought no one stood behind her, yet unexpectedly, someone spoke for her.

She bowed gracefully to Xiao Xuanyin: “Your servant thanks the Crown Prince.”

In his eyes was a deep and tender longing.
Whether by illusion or not, his usually indifferent brows softened somewhat.
He said, “Miss Fu, no need for such formality.”

Shang Xunhuan’s words were unreliable but had sparked his strange greed.
He intended to draw closer to A’He, by any means, slowly and surely capturing her heart until he could claim her entirely.
He yearned to possess her body and soul, to whisper intimately, to stir storms and clear skies.

Their “call and response” left the Princess utterly unable to maintain face.
Her royal nephew had always been distant from her, and today he publicly humiliated her!

The Princess trembled with rage: “You... you two...”

Jiang Manxue’s fingernails dug deeply into her palm beneath her sleeve, jealousy consuming her like wild vines.
When she first transmigrated, her first fixation was the elegant Xiao Xuanyin.
She had sent countless secret glances, but he ignored her, so she settled for teasing A’Yao instead.
Why had Fu Jinhe, a clumsy blockhead, caught his eye?
Why?

She bit her lip in frustration, stood up, and came to the Princess’s rescue:
“Princess, since Miss Fu refuses to compose poetry, then allow me to make a humble attempt.”

“Peonies in the courtyard boast a wild charm,
Lotus by the pond are pure but less passionate.
Only the peony is the true national beauty,
When it blooms, it stirs the entire capital.”¹

The Princess’s expression softened slightly. Among all flowers, she favored the peony, the pride of the nation; Jiang Manxue had pleased her well.
She praised enthusiastically, “Miss Jiang’s erudition surpasses all in Chang’an—excellent indeed.”

Others quickly echoed the praise:
“Princess speaks truly; Miss Jiang’s talent is extraordinary. We are all impressed.”
“Truly a fine poem, exquisite indeed!”

The farce concluded, and no one dared openly or secretly belittle Fu Jinhe anymore.
Perhaps with the Crown Prince backing her, they remained wary.

Song Junyao was still stunned, unable to regain his composure for a long time.
He could not understand why Fu Jinhe had any connection to the Crown Prince.
She was such a mediocre woman—why would the Crown Prince take her side?

He stared intently at Fu Jinhe’s snow-white face, his heart hollow and gripped by a sudden panic:
Was he about to be abandoned by her? Would she turn to another man’s embrace, smiling sweetly?
No, absolutely impossible!

The poetry contest continued, with talented young men and women displaying brilliance.
Fu Jinhe sat quietly to the side, serene and at ease.

A maid approached to pour her tea but accidentally spilled it on Fu Jinhe’s skirt, leaving a glaring stain.
The maid knelt with a thud, begging for forgiveness: “Miss Fu, please forgive me, it was unintentional.”
“You may accompany me to the Qingfeng Pavilion to change your clothes.”

All eyes turned again to Fu Jinhe.
Jiang Manxue and Shen Minglan’s eyes lit up simultaneously, covering their malicious smiles.
The show was about to begin.

Just moments ago, Fu Jinhe had been arrogant and wild; soon she would be pitiful and humiliated.

A faint smile flickered at Fu Jinhe’s lips, cool and indifferent in her clear eyes.
She calmly gazed at the trembling maid and spoke slowly and softly, “That suits me very well.”

At last, it had begun...

—

¹Excerpt from Liu Yuxi’s “Admiring the Peony”