Unparalleled Beauty

Chapter C022 pt1

After Prince Wei left the palace, the spies belonging to the Prince Wei's mansion sprang into action.

Though he had been absent from the capital for years, his influence there was considerable, though subtly woven.

Prince Wei had barely returned to his mansion and summoned his subordinate officials and advisors for a meeting when news arrived concerning Commandery Princess Minghui's impending marriage—her persistent lack of a suitable match—and the Empress Dowager's conversation with the Emperor after his return to the Capital.

Midway through the meeting, another message arrived: the Empress Dowager had summoned the Taihe Emperor again, shortly after Prince Wei's departure from the palace.

Others were present in the study when the message arrived.

Prince Wei's severe headaches often impaired his ability to attend to every detail, necessitating others to serve as extensions of his mind, filling in gaps and omissions. Therefore, the message was delivered without concealing it from the others in the study.

Chief Scribe Xu Hong asked, “Could this matter be related to His Highness’s marriage?”

Prince Wei nodded slightly.

Xu Hong and advisor Sima Qi exchanged a glance. Prince Wei's return to the capital was ostensibly for his wedding, a fact known to everyone in Prince Wei's mansion; clearly, an unforeseen complication had arisen.

Xu Hong mused, “Though the Empress Dowager is not His Majesty's biological mother, she raised him in his early years, a debt His Majesty has always remembered. He treats her with filial piety as if she were his own mother. The Empress Dowager is wise and magnanimous, never interfering in court affairs or palace matters. She has earned His Majesty's respect over the years, strengthening their mother-son bond.”

“Therefore, His Majesty would find it difficult to refuse the Empress Dowager's request. Moreover, in His Majesty's eyes, Commandery Princess Minghui might be a more suitable match for His Highness than the daughter of the Marquis Changyang.”

Prince Wei was aware of all this, yet he did not stop Xu Hong and Sima Qi from speaking. This was his way of supplementing his own thoughts, listening to identify any oversights in his own considerations. Xu Hong and Sima Qi knew this habit, and thus continued their discussion.

“Commandery Princess Minghui is the Empress Dowager's only remaining blood relative in this world. Her paternal family is the Chang clan of Luohe. While not a prominent aristocratic family, the Chang clan possesses deep roots and a modest reputation among scholars. The Chang clan is also connected to the Duke Zhao's family, descendants of founding heroes, whose hereditary titles remain unbroken, their influence profound, maintaining connections with various families. Prince Jin and Prince Qin have been trying to win over the Duke Zhao's family, but the Duke Zhao's family has remained ambiguous in its stance.”

“Given the Empress Dowager's status and her position in His Majesty's heart, His Majesty would inevitably heed her words to some extent.”

Xu Hong and Sima Qi spoke cautiously, well aware of their roles and limitations. They confined their analysis to the facts, avoiding subjective opinions. However, their words clearly revealed their inclination: they believed Prince Wei should seize this opportunity, a move advantageous to both him and his mansion.

Yet, they also understood Prince Wei's character, knowing the boundaries they dared not cross. Therefore, they only offered their analysis for Prince Wei's consideration, refraining from direct advice.

Prince Wei's expression remained impassive, a masterclass in concealing emotion, making it impossible to discern his thoughts.

After Xu Hong and Sima Qi withdrew, walking along the corridor outside the study, they exchanged a wry look, knowing that the outcome would only be revealed in time.

Their Highness was like that; he never allowed anyone to fathom his intentions. To understand his decisions, one could only observe his subsequent actions.

“What do you think His Highness will decide?”

“Need we even say it? His Highness's return to the Capital wasn't solely for the wedding,” Sima Qi stroked his beard, “If His Highness truly harbors such intentions, this excellent opportunity to undermine Prince Jin and Prince Qin is one he would surely not miss.”

Fusheng listened silently for a while, refraining from speaking.

After Xu Hong and Sima Qi left, he glanced at his master's face, swallowing a torrent of words.

This was not a matter for him to interject. While he could speak freely on trivial matters, he knew when to speak and when to remain silent.

If his master truly harbored such intentions—

That Third Miss would be pitiable, considering his master had only spent one night with her. Though the master was different from His Highness, they were both human beings. The young lady had suffered a loss, and his master bore some responsibility.

Given his master's character, he would undoubtedly take responsibility. But with Commandery Princess Minghui's sudden intervention, the young lady's secure position as Princess Consort was now jeopardized. What a mess!

***

That night.

For once, Prince Wei lay on his bed in a state of calm and ease, free from resistance and pain.

He attempted to close his eyes, falling asleep quickly and without pain. But he had barely fallen asleep when his eyes suddenly snapped open.

Fusheng had intended to retire for the night, instructing his apprentice, Little Douzi, to keep watch and summon him if needed, when a figure suddenly emerged from the inner chamber.

The person's hair had come undone, long tresses cascading down his back, clad in moon-white sleeping attire. Without a word, he swayed towards the exit.

Fusheng's heart leaped. Without pausing for thought, he hastened after him, grasping his sleeve and murmuring about the conspicuousness of his attire and the lack of footwear.

Ji Yang, too weary to engage, nonetheless recognized the ostentatious nature of his white garments in the night. He paused, allowing Fusheng to drape a dark robe over them and provide boots.

"Your Highness seeks Third Miss?"

Ji Yang cast him a sideways glance, the unspoken question hanging heavy in the air: *Do you object?*

Fusheng, of course, dared not voice any dissent. Yet, following the events of the day, this nocturnal visit felt profoundly inappropriate.

However inappropriate, Fusheng knew he could not impede His Highness, nor could he interfere in his master's affairs. He merely alluded to the day's occurrences.

He was uncertain whether His Highness was aware; his intention was merely to offer a subtle reminder, preventing any discord between the two parties and the subsequent complications.

Finally, Fusheng added a few words laced with personal concern: "Your Highness should perhaps align your intentions with the young lady's. If you persist, please be kind; she has suffered much."

This carefully worded advice elicited a chuckle from Ji Yang.

He scrutinized Fusheng, a quizzical expression on his face. "Are you two related?"

"Heavens, no!" Fusheng replied, a solitary figure with no living kin.

"No? Then why all the superfluous words?" He scoffed. Did he require guidance?

Exhausted, Fusheng revealed the truth: "This servant held her in infancy; a slight connection, however distant."

This was perhaps the most poignant experience of Fusheng's life. At that time, Ji Yang, then the Third Prince, had newly arrived at the border. Seventeen years old, still a youth, he found the border troops, who respected only strength and merit, not princely lineage, regarding him with suspicion.

Especially since he was there under punishment.

The young Third Prince outwardly maintained composure, but inwardly seethed with resentment, leading to a reckless, overly ambitious attack that resulted in his being besieged in Sha City.

News of the siege painted a grim picture: escape was deemed impossible. Sha City's strategic location, deep within enemy territory, made any rescue mission a suicide run, regardless of troop numbers.

Fusheng recalled his frantic pleas and desperate measures within the army tent, employing every means to force a rescue. Even now, he recoiled at the memory of his own desperate actions, yet, given the chance, he would do it again.

Only Mei Zhan responded, leading a hastily assembled thousand-strong cavalry.

This marked Prince Wei's greatest crisis and his most humbling defeat. The lessons learned then laid the foundation for his future invincibility on the battlefield.

Prince Wei was rescued, but Mei Zhan perished.

The young girl, still frail and delicate as porcelain, was entrusted to Fusheng's care. Unable to return to the capital, Prince Wei sent her back to Marquis Changyang's manor under Fusheng's watchful eye. He cared for her meticulously throughout the journey, and honestly, he felt a pang of reluctance to part with her, hence his intervention with Old Madam Mei.

This shared history created a unique bond. Fusheng, unable to directly criticize his master's actions, could only offer his support in subtle ways.

After hearing Fusheng's heartfelt account, Ji Yang scoffed and departed.

Fusheng felt utterly humiliated, as if he had played a lute to a cow.

But he was, after all, his master! He hastily rushed out, instructing An Yi to discreetly follow and relay any news to the manor.

***

Meanwhile, Wushuang mused that even if Ji Yang returned, it would be several days hence.

After supper, she retired to her bedchamber, but sleep eluded her. She summoned Meifang, intending to teach her to speak.

In her past life, Wushuang had pondered Meifang's stammer. She believed it stemmed from childhood exposure; having a stammering person nearby had cultivated this habit. That was the cause; her tendency to rush, leading to incoherent speech, was the effect.

She devised a method: if a whole sentence proved difficult, she could try speaking word by word. First, practice speaking in short phrases. Meifang could manage three to four words without stammering. Use three to four-word sentences, keeping it concise, to overcome the stammer. Once she could express herself fluently and without stammering, gradually increase the word count.

The idea was sound, yet one overestimated her teaching abilities, while the other resigned herself to her own perceived stupidity. The effort was too much for the young lady; it was unfair to burden her so, yet she didn't know how to express this.

“Just practice more when you have free time. Alright, it’s late; go to sleep.”

Meifang kept watch tonight, as she had since returning with Wushuang. The night watch wasn't demanding; she slept when the young lady slept. Wushuang rarely woke during the night, so Meifang usually slept soundly until dawn.

Meifang helped Wushuang lower the bed curtains and extinguished the lamps, leaving only a single candle on the tall cabinet in the corner. Wushuang preferred darkness, so a small light was always left burning at night.

Having finished, she went to the outer room, spread bedding on the small couch, and lay down.

Wushuang found herself unable to sleep, staring at the shadows on the curtains. In the blink of an eye, a dark figure appeared on the curtains. Fortunately, the disheveled figure was familiar, so she only jumped; the next moment, she recognized the person.

Before she could fully identify him, he had already lifted the curtains and entered.

Even knowing Ji Yang's reckless and audacious nature, Wushuang hadn't anticipated such boldness.

“Why are you here again?”

Ji Yang raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t mean you shouldn’t come… no, you really shouldn’t be here… no…” Wushuang stammered, but he had already lain down, as if the bed were his own, a familiarity that was breathtaking.

Outside, Meifang seemed to have heard the commotion and called out, “Miss.”

Wushuang quickly said, “It’s nothing, go to sleep, I’m going to sleep too.” While speaking thus, her heart was a whirlwind of anxiety, urgency, anger, and resentment.

“Even if we have a betrothal, we are not yet married; you cannot do this!” she whispered fiercely.

“Cannot do what?” He raised an eyebrow again.

Cannot appear in his nightclothes, as if it were perfectly natural to come to her room to sleep!

Now Wushuang understood. The ghostly figure that had terrified the entire Marquis Changyang’s household was none other than this man, wandering about in his pre-sleep attire.

His disheveled hair was because he had undone his hair before bed; the loose robe was his nightwear. Tonight, it was somewhat better; it wasn't entirely dark; he wore a white undergarment beneath.

Wushuang also noticed that Ji Yang's demeanor was different from the previous two times; a rare contentment, seemingly free from his usual headache and the tense, volatile feeling.

Ji Yang, when not suffering an attack, was far more amenable, emboldening Wushuang to confront him about this matter.

“If someone were to see us…”

“No one will see us.”

“This is improper.”

“This Prince says it is proper.”

“We are not yet married…”

“Soon.”

Wushuang was about to retort when Ji Yang, who had been idly toying with her hair, suddenly released it.

“I won’t touch you, I just need a place to sleep.” He said, a touch impatiently.

The words, "touch you," caused Wushuang's cheeks to flush uncontrollably. She stammered, "You're not without a prince's mansion."

"The bed there is uncomfortable; I can't sleep." He yawned languidly, the resulting tears blurring his eyes, leaving them slightly red and moist, softening the harshness of his features.

"If it's only for borrowing a bed, I'll give you the bed; I'll sleep on the smaller one outside?" she offered timidly, a touch of boldness in her voice.

Ji Yang's yawn was cut short as he lifted his eyelids to glance at her, then reached out to tug at the ends of her hair.

His hands were slender and fair, the knuckles clearly defined, marred only by faint, scattered scars. As he moved, his wide sleeves slipped down, revealing lean, strong forearms, similarly marked with fine, barely visible scars.

"Did you wash your hair?"

Wushuang hadn't anticipated Ji Yang's question, but she nodded honestly.