Accidentally Married the Princess [Time Travel] - Chapter 27

After having another meal at Dai Ru Yan’s place, Gong Yu finally returned to the mansion by sedan chair. The worried old steward hurriedly asked, “Oh, my dear young master, where were you last night?”

Gong Yu took off her cloak and replied, “I was just at Sister Dai’s place.”

“Then… did you stay overnight in Miss Dai’s courtyard last night?” the old steward asked with a gossipy expression.

“Yes.”

Turning around and noticing the old steward’s odd expression, Gong Yu quickly explained, “Old steward, don’t overthink it.”

“Our young master is truly growing up now,” the old steward murmured delightedly.

Clearly, this was beyond Gong Yu’s control.

Alone in the study, Gong Yu sipped hot tea while flipping through the pile of account books on the desk. Faintly, she could hear the wind and snow outside picking up.

Amidst the swirling snow, the New Year’s Eve arrived. The palace banquet was much the same as previous years, except for a novel performance from a foreign country that added some excitement to the festivities.

As Gong Yu grew older, the principle of separation between men and women was more strictly observed, and she found herself increasingly distanced from Dai Ru Yan.

The veiled dancer from the foreign land, holding a long sword, elegantly twirled amidst bursts of flames. The mesmerizing scene captivated the audience.

Yet Gong Yu, holding her teacup, gazed through the crowd toward the composed figure of Dai Ru Yan seated in the distance.

Dai Ru Yan’s light yellow dress stood out strikingly among the heavily made-up consorts in the rear palace. She sat quietly for the most part, cradling a small rabbit in her arms, occasionally sharing a faint smile with others, though the smile would fade in an instant.

Suddenly, the dancer on the stage began weaving among the princes and ministers, holding a wine pot. Perhaps due to her graceful figure, many eyes in the hall were drawn to the alluring veiled dancer.

Thanks to this dancer, Gong Yu could legitimately gaze in Dai Ru Yan’s direction.

Unexpectedly, Dai Ru Yan glanced over just then, catching Gong Yu in the act. Flustered, Gong Yu averted her eyes.

The dancer suddenly leaped over tables and chairs, stopping beside the Sixth Prince. She lifted her veil slightly to drink a cup of wine, then flirtatiously leaned close to him, circling around a few times before engaging with the Fifth Prince nearby.

The atmosphere grew heated, with the dancer’s suggestive movements holding the ministers spellbound.

Feeling a bit hungry, Gong Yu picked up a dumpling from her plate and found it reasonably tasty.

Unexpectedly, the graceful dancer flitted over to Gong Yu in the blink of an eye, the bells on her outfit jingling softly.

The dancer lightly wrapped her arms around Gong Yu, pressing close. Gong Yu nervously tried to edge away, afraid her true identity might be discovered.

But the dancer seemed to be teasing her, clinging persistently for a while before looking at Gong Yu with bright, puzzled eyes and asking, “Why do you keep avoiding me?”

The music and drums around them likely muffled her words, so others couldn’t overhear.

Gong Yu replied earnestly, “I was just eating dumplings.”

“Alright then, I want you to dance with me.”

What?

Gong Yu shook her head and said, “No.”

Ignoring her refusal, the dancer grabbed Gong Yu’s arm. Gong Yu wanted to pull away, but the dancer had seized her recently healed left hand, forcing her to resign herself to being dragged out.

The dancer laughed, placing a hand on Gong Yu’s shoulder, and said, “I’ve seen you before.”

Squirming under the dancer’s close advances, Gong Yu said with near-tearful frustration, “I swear I’ve never seen you before.”

“You still claim you’re not afraid of me?” The dancing girl twirled around Gong Yu, her steps light as she danced, saying, “Your face is all red.”

As she continued to circle him, Gong Yu swiftly retreated to his seat, afraid she might pull him out again.

The Sixth Prince, holding a wine cup nearby, chuckled and said, “Little Ninth, it seems you can’t handle the enthusiasm of this foreign dancer.”

Gong Yu nearly choked on his tea, feeling utterly embarrassed. He sensed the gazes of many around him and instinctively glanced toward Dai Ru Yan, only to find her amusing herself with the empress, playing with a little rabbit, completely oblivious to the commotion.

When the palace banquet finally ended, palace attendants carrying lanterns led the officials out of the palace. Gong Yu, clutching a hand warmer, thought about seeking out Dai Ru Yan again, but the crowd was too dense, so he had to abandon the idea.

He boarded his sedan chair to return to his residence. Due to the snowfall, the road was treacherous, and the sedan swayed violently.

Upon alighting, Gong Yu saw the dancing girl waiting in front of his gate, clad in thin clothing. The old steward, taking pity on her, offered her clothes and silver, but she stubbornly refused to leave.

Gong Yu looked at her and asked, “Why are you waiting for me in this freezing snow?”

The dancing girl stepped closer, her movements graceful, and asked, “Are you the Ninth Prince?”

“Yes.” Gong Yu took a few steps back. “What exactly do you want?”

“I escaped from the dance troupe and want to stay in the Gong Kingdom.” Her eyes sparkled brightly, and her words flowed with a practiced ease that suggested she was no stranger to deception.

Gong Yu turned and entered the estate, saying, “I’m not a philanthropist, and I have no need for a dancer.”

“You will need me.” The bells on her attire jingled crisply. Though her face was still veiled, it couldn’t conceal her striking beauty.

A woman like her, alone on such a snowy night, was indeed in danger.

“I can give you silver and have someone escort you out of the capital. Stop pestering me.” As Gong Yu spoke, he turned to leave, only to find his robe tugged by the girl.

She shook her head and said, “I don’t want your charity.”

Perplexed, Gong Yu asked, “Then what do you want by clinging to me like this?”

“Because I like you.”

Huh?

“You… you’re insane!” Gong Yu pulled his robe back and strode into the estate, calling out, “Someone, close the gates!”

What kind of world was this? To claim affection after just one meeting—did this dancer really think he was that easily fooled?

The old steward stood nearby, holding an umbrella, and asked, “Your Highness, with such a fierce snowstorm outside, are we really going to let that girl freeze?”

Gong Yu didn’t respond. He paused in the corridor, watching the heavy snowflakes falling like goose feathers.

“Later, send someone to check if she’s left.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Back in his chamber, after washing up, Gong Yu had nothing to do and decided to sleep early. But the image of the dancing girl kept surfacing in his mind, and the howling wind outside only added to his restlessness.

He got up and stepped out of his room. The snowstorm hadn’t ceased, and a guard reported, “Your Highness, that dancing girl is still outside.”

“Your Highness, it seems the dancing girl has collapsed out there,” another guard rushed in from the gate.

“Take her to the side residence and summon a physician for her.” Gong Yu shivered, pulling his collar tight, unwilling to stay outside for even a moment. Yet this girl had endured nearly two hours out there.

Gong Yu was far from believing her claim of affection. Instead, it seemed more likely that she was hiding some secret, desperate to find refuge.

“Send her away tomorrow morning, and remember to have someone keep an eye on her. Report back if there are any issues.” Gong Yu yawned, utterly exhausted.

The guards replied softly, “Yes, Your Highness.”

The snowstorm continued through the night, and the courtyard of Dai Ru Yan was also swept by wind and snow. Inside the hall, the lamplight was dim.

Dai Lang, holding a black chess piece, made the first move. Across from him, Dai Ru Yan leisurely placed a white piece.

The black pieces gained the upper hand, gradually forming an encirclement, but the white pieces took a risky move to break through the siege, unexpectedly shifting into three different strategies to counterattack.

The outcome was already decided. The black pieces’ desperate struggle and resistance were futile in the end.

Dai Ru Yan placed the final piece, cutting off the black pieces’ last hope of survival. Dai Lang stared at the board and returned the black piece in his hand to the chess box.

“Grandmother is going to the temple tomorrow, and I must accompany her, so I won’t be attending the banquet with Father,” Dai Ru Yan said as she collected the white pieces.

“If you insist on this, I have nothing more to say.” Dai Lang straightened his back and looked out at the heavy snow. “But Grandmother is old, and sooner or later, Father will be in power. Why must you be so stubborn? It would be better to show a little weakness.”

“Weakness?” Dai Ru Yan paused her hand while collecting the pieces. “Then why don’t you consider that in the future, the power of the Dai family will also fall into your hands?”

Dai Lang was taken aback. “Such rebellious words, you…”

“I know exactly what kind of person you are, Brother. Why pretend?”

Dai Ru Yan gathered all the white pieces from the board, leaving only the scattered black pieces.

The two fell silent. A maid outside the door announced, “Miss, it’s already the hour of the ox.”

Dai Lang hurriedly left. Alone, Dai Ru Yan sipped her tea and called softly, “Biyu, light the incense.”

“Yes.”

The maid placed incense in the burner. Outside the window, a carrier pigeon quietly landed. The maid caught the pigeon and said, “It’s a message from the Ninth Highness.”

“Bring it to me.” Dai Ru Yan set down her teacup and took the letter from the maid.

She read it carefully, murmuring under her breath, “A dancer?”

The maid beside her, noticing Dai Ru Yan’s unusually tense expression, quietly withdrew.

The letter was lightly tossed into the nearby charcoal brazier. It quickly caught fire, turning to ashes in moments.

Dai Ru Yan gently stroked the small rabbit in her lap, picked up a pair of scissors, and snuffed out the lamp on the low table. The hall was plunged into darkness, with only the faint glow of the extinguished candle remaining.

The snowstorm outside made the window paper appear slightly brighter. Dai Ru Yan’s expression was as still as a statue. The maid on night watch outside suddenly heard the sound of a chessboard overturning inside.

The maid was about to call out, but an elderly woman beside her grasped her arm and shook her head in warning.

The wind and snow in the courtyard grew fiercer. Under the cover of the howling wind, a faint, melodious sound of a zither seemed to drift in.

As dawn broke, the snowstorm subsided. When Gong Yu woke early in the morning, she felt her nose was stuffy.

After washing up and having some warm porridge, Gong Yu took a sedan chair and hurried to the temple outside the city.

As for why she was going to the temple. Rumor had it that every year, Dai Ru Yan accompanied her grandmother to pray at the temple.

So, Gong Yu set off ahead of time, only to find that the temple’s staircase had over a thousand steps. By the time she reached the top, she was completely exhausted.

Entering the temple gate, Gong Yu piously paid respects to the Buddha in the main hall, though her eyes kept darting around.

Fortunately, Dai Ru Yan wasn’t far away, and Gong Yu dawdled her way closer.

Dai’s grandmother was already seventy-six years old, which in this world was considered a long life.

Yet Dai Ru Yan only cast a brief glance at Gong Yu trailing behind and offered nothing more.

Seeing her grandmother enter a small prayer hall, Dai Ru Yan waited outside. Gong Yu, rubbing her frozen cheeks and clutching a charm bag, approached and said, “What a coincidence, Sister Dai.”

Dai Ru Yan, however, did not respond. Gong Yu, somewhat puzzled, tugged at the sleeve of Dai Ru Yan’s robe and called out, “Sister Dai?”

“Ayan?”

“Shouldn’t Little Ninth be at the mansion accompanying that foreign dancer?” Dai Ru Yan turned her head to look at Gong Yu. Though she wore a smile, there was not a trace of warmth in her eyes.

Dai Ru Yan, as if wearing a mask, sent a chill down Gong Yu’s spine. It felt as though she were an entirely different person.