Chi Ying could have used her illness to hide from him for a few more days, but Prince Zhao had brought up Consort Zhuang. She could no longer use that excuse to delay, lest people whisper that she was being disrespectful to her mother-in-law.

She spent every day diligently drinking her medicine and tending to her health. By early March, as the weather began to warm, she had finally made a full recovery.

Chi Ying gathered her composure and had Xiangqin help her dress and apply makeup.

In front of the bronze mirror, Xiangqin put on the earrings Prince Zhao had sent. The maid’s eyes lit up instantly. “This red carnelian truly complements the Princess’s complexion.”

Xiangqin had served Chi Yingyue before, and she could see it now: the Second Lady and Third Lady did have similar features, but they were far from identical. The Second Lady was like a peony—vivid, bold, and striking. The Third Lady, however, was like a crabapple blossom—refined, elegant, and soft. Both were rare beauties.

If the Chi Ying of last year had been excessively thin and fragile, then under the careful nourishment of these past weeks, she had become like a crabapple blooming under the spring sun, growing more breathtaking with every passing day.

As Xiangqin applied the powders and rouge to her face, she felt a twinge of guilt, fearing that the thick, heavy cosmetics would only soil Chi Ying’s jade-like, pure countenance.

Chi Ying touched the carnelian beneath her ear. When she first saw the earrings, she had only one thought: they were too valuable, and they didn’t match her true status.

If she could pawn them, they would surely fetch a fortune. With that silver, she would have the confidence to escape, and her mother’s medicine would no longer be a concern… but she could only dream.

Wearing them was not out of love. In her eyes, these ornate jewels were all the same. However, Prince Zhao seemed to pay special attention to her jewelry. Last time, he had specifically asked about her broken earring. To avoid making him suspicious or prompting more questions, she would wear whatever he sent.

After breakfast, Qingzhi entered the room. “Princess, His Highness is here. He is waiting for you outside the courtyard.”

Having not seen him for days, Chi Ying’s body still instinctively tensed at the mention of his name.

She rose and stepped out the door. She found the man standing outside, dressed in an ivory silk robe with ink-wash patterns. He held his ink-jade bamboo cane, his posture as steady as a pine under the sun and snow—a man of noble elegance and radiant grace.

Hearing her approach, the man turned to “look” her way. “Is the Princess’s body fully recovered?”

Chi Ying forced herself to get used to the title “Princess.” She stepped forward and curtsied. “I am grateful for Your Highness’s concern. This concubine has recovered. I have been unable to visit the Yangui Tower to serve your medicine or attend to Mother due to this lingering cold. I hope Your Highness can forgive me.”

Her voice was still a bit raspy from days of coughing, sounding like thin snow falling on plum branches—a soft, rustling sound that seemed to carry a lingering fragrance.

Yan Xuecuī’s throat rolled slightly. He gripped his bamboo cane. “Mother prefers quiet, and the estate has many servants; there is no need for you to perform the morning and evening rituals or serve her medicine personally. As for me… it has indeed been a long time since I saw the Princess.”

He turned to walk toward the courtyard gate. “So long that my own wounds are nearly healed. There is no longer a need for the Princess to labor back and forth to dress them.”

Chi Ying followed him cautiously. She felt there was something… sarcastic in his tone.

Yan Xuecuī sensed her gaze, and his brow twitched. “What? Does the Princess wish for me to recover, or does she not?”

Startled, Chi Ying hurriedly replied, “This concubine naturally wishes for Your Highness’s recovery. It is only that Your Highness’s words just now made me feel anxious and guilty. I simply did not know how to respond for a moment.”

Yan Xuecuī smiled. “So that is how it is.”

Chi Ying bit her lip. “Mm.”

Although Prince Zhao’s health was directly tied to when she could leave the estate, she had never wished him harm. The ones who had forced her into this were the Yin mother and daughter, not Prince Zhao.

At the entrance of Shouchun Hall, Chi Ying stole a glance at him. she was curious how he intended to hide his blindness from Consort Zhuang. After all, blindness was not a typical injury; it wasn’t something that could be hidden by sheer endurance, yet he had managed to hide it for over a year.

Qionglin had been waiting outside the gate, having been informed of their visit. She stepped forward and bowed. “Your Highness, Princess.”

Yan Xuecuī told her to rise and asked, “How is Mother lately?”

Qionglin replied, “Her Ladyship’s spirits are fair, though she occasionally forgets people or events. During her lucid moments, she has been asking after you and the Princess. She woke up this morning, and the physician is currently giving her a massage.”

Yan Xuecuī nodded slightly. Reaching the porch, he handed his cane to a nearby guard and stepped through the door without hesitation.

Chi Ying followed closely, her eyes never leaving his feet for even an inch, fearing an accident.

Fortunately, the felt rugs inside were laid perfectly flat. The lamps, censers, and stools had been placed in their designated spots beforehand. The path was clear.

Yan Xuecuī walked steadily, stopping exactly in front of the black-lacquered bed where Consort Zhuang lay. He lowered his head and spoke warmly, “Mother.”

Chi Ying followed his lead and bowed.

Consort Zhuang had always regretted missing the wedding ceremony. Seeing the couple now—beautiful and refined, like a pair of jade figurines—her joy was beyond words. She feigned anger as she looked at Yan Xuecuī. “You are a busy man. If you don’t visit me, so be it, but could you not even find the time to accompany your bride for tea?”

Chi Ying bit her lip as an indescribable sense of shame climbed into her heart.

Both times she had visited Shouchun Hall, Consort Zhuang had been lucid. The woman treated her like a true daughter-in-law, a junior worthy of protection. During her illness, the Consort had sent tonics, clothes, and jewelry. She was a gentle and kind elder.

It was hard to imagine what she looked like during a hysterical episode, swinging a blade at her own son. If she ever learned what she had done, the pain would be unbearable.

Thinking of this, Chi Ying looked up at Prince Zhao.

His dark grey eyes held a hint of a smile. Facing Consort Zhuang, he answered with perfect composure, “The Ministry of War is busy preparing for this year’s Military Exam. I hope Mother can be understanding.”

According to the Great Jin tradition, once a prince reached fifteen, he was sent to various government departments to learn the inner workings of the state. These included the Grand Secretariat, the Six Ministries, and the Five Courts. On the surface, it was to cultivate their abilities; in reality, it was a way for princes to build connections and factions.

Prince Ding, Yan Xueji, had previously served in the Ministry of Personnel. Yan Xuecuī, having earned military merit on the northern borders, had naturally joined the Ministry of War upon his return.

What Consort Zhuang didn’t know was that since he had gone blind, he hadn’t actually managed any affairs at the Ministry for a year.

She only assumed he was obsessed with work and had no time for family. “It doesn’t matter if I am understanding. The question is whether your new bride is willing to be.”

Chi Ying hadn’t expected the conversation to turn to her. She was caught off guard.

Yan Xuecuī looked over with a smile, as if intentionally asking, “Is the Princess willing to be understanding?”

Chi Ying’s cheeks turned crimson. “I… I am.”

“You see, Mother,” Yan Xuecuī said.

Consort Zhuang glared at him. “You, honestly.”

Yan Xuecuī only laughed.

Consort Zhuang lowered her gaze and accidentally noticed the bandage on his palm. Her brow furrowed instantly. “How did this happen?”

Chi Ying’s heart squeezed. Any sighted person could see she was looking at his hand, but Prince Zhao did not.

Fortunately, he reacted quickly. He raised his hand and flexed his knuckles, lying smoothly, “I sustained a minor injury while sparring during an inspection of the garrisons.”

Consort Zhuang sighed. “You’ve loved martial arts since you were a child, but you’re married now. Can you not be steadier?”

Yan Xuecuī didn’t argue and readily admitted his fault.

Chi Ying watched the mother and son in silence.

If one didn’t look closely or think about the possibility of blindness, it was actually hard to notice the faint void hidden beneath those grey eyes. In front of Consort Zhuang, he was all smiles, showing none of the sensitivity or tension of a blind man. His hearing was exceptional; he adjusted the direction of his gaze based on the voices of Consort Zhuang and Qionglin. His voice was warm and clear, his expression relaxed and effortless.

No wonder Auntie Fangchun always called him kind. Perhaps it was only in front of the women of the estate that his gentleness lacked a hidden edge.

To Consort Zhuang, he was still a child who caused her worry. The ugly rumors outside had not reached her ears. Shouchun Hall was like an isolated paradise, far from the blades and whispers of the world.

As she watched him, she unconsciously became dazed. Unexpectedly, Prince Zhao “looked” straight at her. Startled, her heart leaped, and she instinctively dodged his “gaze.”

Her carnelian earrings clinked together. When she snapped back to her senses, Chi Ying realized she had lost her composure.

He’s blind. What am I dodging?

The corners of Yan Xuecuī’s lips curled. He asked softly, “Princess?”

Consort Zhuang looked over as well, only to see her daughter-in-law’s cheeks flushed red under Qi-lang’s gaze, looking every bit the shy and sweet bride.

It was then that she noticed the swaying carnelian earrings. She recognized the jewelry, of course. She arched an eyebrow at Yan Xuecuī. “Did you pick these earrings personally?”

Yan Xuecuī pursed his lips. “I have made a fool of myself before Mother.”

Consort Zhuang laughed. “I knew your eye for quality was good. Even when you were young, you could tell if the crazing on Grand Secretary Liu’s porcelain was wrong. Minister Shen loves jade, and you could discuss texture, luster, and carving in great detail. For Princess Yuxi’s birthday, the Eight-Treasure Necklace you sent was her favorite… This pair of earrings suits the Princess perfectly. She is fair-skinned; she looks beautiful in them.”

Chi Ying watched the man chatting effortlessly, and a pang of sorrow spread through her heart.

It was like a chef losing his sense of taste, a musician going deaf, or a general becoming paralyzed. He couldn’t see this world, so he could no longer ride out in glory or see the changing scenery of the four seasons. The finest treasures and vessels, when passed through his hands, were nothing more than cold, grey shells.

Everyone pities the flaw in a beautiful thing, and Chi Ying was no exception.

Consort Zhuang then remembered something and asked with concern, “Yingyue, has your cold fully recovered?”

Hearing the name, Chi Ying immediately snapped back. She tried to respond as calmly as possible. “I have fully recovered. I have caused Mother worry; it is my fault.”

“Family doesn’t say such things,” Consort Zhuang said.

She smiled as she looked at the young couple. “You have been married for less than a month. Qi-lang, you should set aside those official duties occasionally. Surely you can manage to finish work on time? Spend more time with Yingyue. Our estate has been quiet for years; it’s time for it to become lively.”

Chi Ying understood the implication.

Though she knew Prince Zhao had no interest in the pleasures of the flesh and would not share a bed with her—and she herself wouldn’t be staying long—the teasing still made her blush with shame.

Qionglin added a joke from the side: “Look, Your Ladyship, the Princess is shy.”

Chi Ying felt utterly lost, but considering Consort Zhuang’s condition, she had to play along and chat for a while.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for Consort Zhuang to grow weary. Seeing Prince Zhao rise to take his leave, Chi Ying exhaled a secret sigh of relief and helped settle the Consort back into bed.

When she turned around, she was shocked to see that the stool they had been sitting on was directly in Prince Zhao’s path to the left. He would have to bypass it perfectly to avoid tripping. Seeing that he was about to walk into it, Chi Ying’s heart tightened. Instinctively, she stepped forward and grabbed his arm. “Your Highness…”

In a voice only the two of them could hear, she whispered, “Mind your step.”

Yan Xuecuī remained silent for a moment, feeling the warmth and grip of her palm on his arm. He closed his eyes, suppressing the unruly thoughts surging beneath his skin.

Chi Ying didn’t notice the slight change in his expression, but she seemed to feel the powerful pulse at his wrist. It intertwined with her own rapid, panicked heartbeat.

Even if it was only a necessary contact born of urgency, she still felt deeply embarrassed. She guided him around the stool and immediately released him, following cautiously at his side.

Yan Xuecuī felt the touch on his arm slowly vanish. The trace of warmth that had seeped into his sleeve through her palm dissipated.

His gaze lowered. He felt as if something had been taken from him, a faint sense of emptiness spreading through his heart like a spiderweb.

Reaching the porch, Chi Ying waited for the cool wind to blow away the heat on her face before her mind calmed. She wanted to explain her sudden boldness, or perhaps tell him not to take Consort Zhuang’s words to heart—that there was no rush for the consummation—but she didn’t know how to start.

The guards were waiting at the steps. Seeing the Prince come out, they immediately handed him the bamboo cane.

Auntie Fangchun stood by, taking the chance to step forward. “Your Highness, now that the Princess’s cold is gone and your own wounds are much better, why not move back to Shuyu Pavilion? Her Ladyship hopes for you and the Princess to be united soon. If this continues, it will be hard to explain things to her…”

Chi Ying’s heart skipped a beat. Seeing Prince Zhao pause his steps, she hurriedly said, “His Highness is occupied with myriad affairs. As for the rites of consummation…”

“The rites of consummation,” Prince Zhao said, his thumb pressing over the ink-jade head of the cane. He turned toward Fangchun and said quite readily, “Then follow your suggestion and begin the preparations.”

NOTES

Zhilanyushu (芝兰玉树): An idiom describing a person of noble and elegant character.

Dunlun / Consummation (圆房 / 敦伦): The act of completing the marriage rites.

Footnotes:

Military Exam (武举): Just like the civil exams, the military exams were held to select officers for the army based on physical strength and strategic knowledge.

Morning and Evening Rituals (晨昏定省): A traditional duty for a daughter-in-law to visit and serve her parents-in-law every morning and evening.

Zhilanyushu (芝兰玉树): Literally “irises and orchids, jade trees.” It’s a high compliment for a young man’s appearance and character.

Translator’s Note: Ink Hub here. Talk about a “be careful what you wish for” moment! Chi Ying tried to save him from tripping, only to end up with the Prince agreeing to move in. 

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