Accidentally Married the Princess [Time Travel] - Chapter 29.1

The wind and snow outside had ceased, and the sky quickly darkened. Nestled in Dai Ru Yan’s embrace, Gong Yu boldly gazed at her, watching as her eyes gently shifted, her gaze lingering on the book. The tranquility of the moment made it seem as though she were in a peaceful paradise, untouched by the chaos of the outside world.

The hall was exceptionally quiet, devoid of the occasional crackle of firecrackers or the sound of people talking, as if it were a place abandoned by all.

A sudden gust of wind slipped in through the slightly ajar window, causing the candlelight to flicker violently. Gong Yu reached out to close the window, not wanting to disturb Dai Ru Yan’s reading.

Unnoticed, the hall had grown dim. Dai Ru Yan closed her book, glanced around, and asked, “Has it already grown dark outside?”

“Yes,” Gong Yu replied, lying back in Dai Ru Yan’s arms. “In winter, the sky darkens so early. And to think I rushed over first thing in the morning.”

Dai Ru Yan set the book aside and gently stroked the fine hairs at Gong Yu’s temples, smiling. “Just a moment ago, you claimed you weren’t a child anymore, yet you still speak like one.”

“How so?”

“The timing of day and night follows the natural order. Rising with the rooster’s crow and setting with the birds’ return. But you speak as if you’re racing against the sunset.”

Gong Yu sighed like an old sage. “But with so many matters piling up, I won’t be able to visit you every day, Ayan.”

“You’re grown now, and a prince at that. Even if you try to keep a low profile, there will always be people watching you. If you come to see me too often, I fear someone will soon target you.”

“It’s fine. I always have guards with me, and I’ve stationed some in secret to follow me at all times. Nothing will happen.”

Dai Ru Yan chuckled softly. “You’re telling me all this so openly. Aren’t you afraid I might betray you?”

“I trust that Ayan would never harm me.” Gong Yu grasped Dai Ru Yan’s hand, a smile playing on her lips. “Right?”

“Not necessarily.” Dai Ru Yan lightly tapped Gong Yu’s nose with her index finger, her eyes brimming with amusement. “Perhaps one day, if Little Jiu misbehaves, I might…”

“Might what?”

“I might punish you by forbidding you to eat meat and making you eat only vegetables.”

Ah…

As night enveloped the courtyard, no matter how much Gong Yu wanted to linger, it was time to leave.

By the time the maid brought in tea from outside, Gong Yu was already sitting properly to the side.

Gong Yu idly fiddled with the little rabbit in her palm as Dai Ru Yan sipped her tea and said, “I won’t be attending the palace banquet on the Lantern Festival.”

“Why not?” Gong Yu asked, still holding the rabbit.

“The Dai family has its own banquet. My grandmother has asked me to handle some minor tasks, so I won’t be able to get away.”

Gong Yu set the rabbit down, stood up, and straightened the wrinkles in her robe. “I understand.”

Dai Ru Yan placed her teacup down softly. “It’s even colder outside at night. I’ll have the maid prepare a cloak for you to keep you warm.”

Seeing that Dai Ru Yan had finished speaking, no matter how much Gong Yu adjusted the folds of her robe, she couldn’t delay any longer.

Reluctantly, Gong Yu turned and left the hall. Outside, the wind and snow had stopped, making the surroundings even quieter.

The maid led the way with a lantern, and Gong Yu, wrapped in a white cloak, felt truly warm.

The corridors were intricate and winding. Glancing back at the dimly lit window of the hall, Gong Yu asked curiously, “Why doesn’t Sister Dai live at the Dai residence instead of staying alone in this remote courtyard?”

The maidservant looked unfamiliar and didn’t respond, as if she couldn’t hear.

Gong Yu guessed she was probably a deaf-mute servant, so she abandoned the idea of questioning her, thinking she might as well ask the maidservant named Biyu another day when she had time.

That maidservant seemed to be one of the few around Dai Ru Yan who could speak normally.

Although her temperament was a bit too fiery.

As Gong Yu rode away from the courtyard with her guards, the night and thick fog obscured the courtyard, making it hard to see clearly.

The clip-clop of horse hooves echoed, and Gong Yu couldn’t help but laugh at herself—why look back when she couldn’t even make out the courtyard clearly?

She couldn’t just stubbornly linger in Dai Ru Yan’s courtyard; being a prince sometimes really had its inconveniences.

The wind and snow stopped and started again, turning the capital into a world of ice and snow, yet it did nothing to dampen the enthusiasm of the people of Gong Kingdom for the Lantern Festival.

At the royal banquet, Gong Yu wore a vermilion robe and a jade crown, though she appeared somewhat frail among the other princes.

The Lantern Festival banquet was far less dazzling than the New Year’s Eve feast. Gong Yu ate a few glutinous rice balls and watched the dancers twirl gracefully under the brightly lit hall.

She found it utterly boring but noticed that the Third Prince was still absent from the banquet.

It was said that since being reported, the Third Prince had been imprisoned in the Dali Temple and had not been released to this day.

Clearly, the Emperor had not truly intended to execute him but had merely been enraged at the time.

With the Third Prince imprisoned and his political power dismantled, it seemed unlikely he would be able to contend for power again.

After several rounds of drinks, Gong Yu’s stomach was nearly full of tea. The Grand Tutor beside her remained as stern as ever, while the Fifth Prince on her other side drank with the Sixth Prince. Their camaraderie struck Gong Yu as somewhat peculiar.

Before the Crown Prince, Gong Quan, was deposed, both the Fifth and Sixth Princes had been aligned with him.

Later, when Gong Quan was suddenly stripped of his title and placed under house arrest for a year, one retreated behind the scenes while the other remained quietly active in court.

Now that Gong Quan had returned to the main hall, the three of them seemed to harbor ulterior motives, their interactions neither cold nor particularly warm.

Perhaps Gong Yu’s scrutinizing gaze was too obvious, for the Sixth Prince raised his glass in a toast. Gong Yu had no choice but to lift her teacup and drink along.

After the banquet, Gong Yu returned to her residence in a sedan chair. The old steward was busy directing the servants in the mansion.

Gong Yu rewarded the servants, reviewed the household expenses, and converted some of the silver earned from her shops into banknotes. She thought to herself that if Dai Ru Yan truly had no intention of leaving the capital,

future expenses for food, clothing, and daily necessities would be substantial. It was wise to save while she could.

She also had a large number of people under her care, and during festivals, the cost of wine alone required piles of silver.

In early spring, the snow began to melt, and the willow branches along the capital’s riverbanks sprouted tender buds, hinting at the arrival of spring.

Yet, during the morning court session, Gong Yu felt the situation was extremely tense. The Minister of Dali Temple, Chen Ming, reported that the Third Prince had committed suicide in his prison cell.

As soon as these words were spoken, the Emperor’s face darkened instantly, and the officials in the hall dared not even breathe loudly.

Only when the morning court ended and Gong Yu stepped out of the hall did she finally relax. Though it was cold outside, it was far better than the stifling silence inside the hall.

She noticed the Sixth Prince and Zhou Wencai walking hurriedly down a stone staircase, their expressions tense and somewhat unusual.

In contrast, the Fourth Prince, who had been the Third Prince’s rival, seemed to breathe a sigh of relief and left at a leisurely pace.

Zhou Wencai, who had been the top scholar in the previous imperial examination, was recently promoted to a fourth-rank official and was now overseeing the upcoming metropolitan examination that the traveling scholars would soon take.

Gong Yu found the scattered connections between these figures utterly headache-inducing.

If Qin Hua’s words were true, then this metropolitan examination would likely become another stage for various factions to covertly maneuver their networks.

And now, the Third Prince had suddenly committed suicide.

What exactly were these people trying to achieve?

Instead of taking a sedan chair back to his residence, Gong Yu walked alone through the capital’s streets.

The streets were as bustling as ever, with pedestrians hurrying along. When Gong Yu arrived at the Third Prince’s mansion, he saw white mourning strips already hung at the entrance. Coincidentally, he ran into Qin Hua emerging from inside.

“What brings you here, sir?” Gong Yu asked, puzzled.

Qin Hua bowed and replied, “Upon hearing of the Third Prince’s suicide in prison, I came to investigate the situation.”

“How are things inside?”

The two bypassed the street and entered a teahouse. Only then did Qin Hua speak: “The Third Prince died from having his neck arteries severed. The murder weapon was a shard from a broken teacup.”

Leaning against the window, Gong Yu watched the servants hanging white lanterns at the Third Prince’s mansion entrance. After a moment’s thought, he asked, “Do you find anything suspicious about this matter, sir?”

“The guards at the Dali Temple prison are all first-class experts. It should be impossible for anyone to silently infiltrate, assassinate the Third Prince, and escape unscathed.”

“That was my initial thought as well,” Gong Yu said, shifting his gaze to a few beggars loitering near the Third Prince’s mansion. “But then I wondered, if the Third Prince truly intended to kill himself, why would he choose yesterday? He had been imprisoned for months. If he couldn’t bear the psychological pressure, it would have made more sense during the lonely and desolate New Year’s Eve or perhaps on the Lantern Festival.”

“Your Highness means?”

“I’m not sure—it’s just intuition,” Gong Yu said with a light laugh. “Why don’t you send someone to investigate Dali Temple Minister Chen Ming?”

Qin Hua nodded. “Very well.”

“Also, gather those three so-called top martial artists from the jianghu at my residence later.”

“What does Your Highness intend to do?”

“An experiment.”

Initially, Gong Yu had also believed the Third Prince committed suicide. After all, as a prince already tarnished by scandal and no longer a threat in the struggle for the throne, why would anyone want him dead?

Upon further reflection, however, two possibilities emerged. First, the Third Prince had always been ruthless—perhaps an old enemy seized the opportunity to take his life while he was vulnerable. Second, the Third Prince might have held damaging evidence against someone, forcing that person to eliminate him for self-preservation.

Regardless of the motive, one crucial point needed consideration: killing someone in the Dali Temple, especially a prince, was not something achievable through martial prowess alone.

The Dali Temple prison operated under the highest security standards in the Gong Kingdom—in modern terms, it was akin to a highly authoritative judicial department.

This heavily guarded prison employed guards and defenders who were all thoroughly familiar with one another. A stranger suddenly breaking in would not go unnoticed by these first-class guards, who were far from foolish.

Moreover, it was said that each level of the Dali Temple prison required a specific key, and all cell door keys were held by Dali Temple Minister Chen Ming himself.

This meant that anyone wishing to kill the Third Prince would first need to approach Chen Ming—or possibly even eliminate him—to gain access to the prison cell.

However, Chen Ming showed no signs of any other possibilities on the hall. Perhaps he had skillfully concealed the fact that he had lost his key, or perhaps the murderer had taken his key and returned it before he noticed.

But regardless of which scenario it was, the Third Prince was truly dead, and he had died at the hands of another. Such a sudden and unexpected event—Chen Ming couldn’t possibly remain so calm.

Of course, all of this speculation was based on the premise that the Third Prince had indeed been murdered. If he hadn’t been killed, then Chen Ming’s reaction would be perfectly normal.

Gong Yu gazed at the white lanterns hanging in front of the Third Prince’s residence. The area in front of the gate grew increasingly desolate, and she suddenly thought that perhaps there was another possibility regarding the murderer.

A possibility that didn’t require stealing a key or returning it.

Lost in thought, Gong Yu felt as if she had frightened herself and muttered, “Let’s wait and see what exactly happens with Chen Ming first.”

As night fell, Gong Yu hosted a banquet at her residence. The three burly men, upon hearing that there was a mission, immediately began boasting to one another.

“What does the Third Prince want us to do?”

Gong Yu sipped her tea and said, “I want the three of you to split up and infiltrate the Dali Temple prison. Find the Chief Minister of Dali Temple, Chen Ming, and gather information for me.”

“No problem! It’s just the Dali Temple, right?” The bearded man drank heavily, responding with bold enthusiasm.

“Good. After drinking this cup of wine, the three of you may set off.”

When darkness fell, the three men leaped over the rooftops and disappeared from Gong Yu’s sight. Holding a cup of hot tea, she asked, “Sir, how many hours do you think they’ll last?”

Qin Hua stood up and replied from the side, “These three are skilled in combat but not in stealth. I’m afraid they’ll be discovered quickly.”

“If all three of them are caught, it would at least prove one thing: the reputation of the Dali Temple prison guards is well-deserved.” Gong Yu turned and entered the hall, asking, “Sir, have you investigated Chen Ming’s connections?”

“Chen Ming, the Chief Minister of Dali Temple, is the son of a loyal minister who served two dynasties. His mother is the sister of the Grand Tutor. However, Chen Ming has never married and has no children.”

“So, does that mean nothing has been uncovered about Chen Ming?”

“Yes. Chen Ming is preoccupied with official duties and rarely forms deep connections with others. He has almost no close friends.”

Gong Yu returned to the low table, feeling hungry, and served herself some soup. Suddenly, she asked, “Sir, may I ask how old you are this year?”

Qin Hua was slightly taken aback and replied, “I am twenty-three.”

“Are you married?”

“I already have a wife and daughter.”

“From your perspective, if a man doesn’t marry, keeps to himself, and spends all his time immersed in official duties, is it possible for him to be bribed?” Gong Yu took a sip of hot soup and asked.

Qin Hua hesitated and said, “It’s very difficult.”

“I think so too.”

Gong Yu took a bite of spare ribs and asked, “Where was Chen Ming on the night the Third Prince committed suicide?”

“According to the guards’ investigation, Chen Ming happened to be at the Dali Temple that night.”

“What a coincidence?” Gong Yu wiped her mouth with a handkerchief and asked, “When was the Third Prince discovered to have committed suicide?”

Qin Hua said seriously, “Around mao hour (5–7 a.m.), discovered by the guard delivering food.”

Gong Yu found herself in a dilemma and decided to stop thinking about it for the moment. She picked up her chopsticks and began eating the white-cut chicken.

Qin Hua, standing beside her, looked somewhat surprised and asked, “Your Highness, are you hungry?”

“No, I just can’t figure it out, so I’ve decided to set it aside for now.” Gong Yu looked at Qin Hua sitting nearby and said, “This chicken is tender and juicy. Sir, please don’t stand on ceremony and have some as well.”

“Tonight, we might have to wait for the three of them to return before we can rest.”

Qin Hua took a sip of the tea in front of him but still hadn’t touched his chopsticks. He looked at Gong Yu and said, “Regardless of the reason, the Third Prince’s suicide means one less rival for the imperial family. Why is Your Highness so concerned about the cause of his death?”

“Because I want to know if it really was suicide. If not, the murderer might not just be targeting the Third Prince alone.”

“Your Highness means this is a setup?” Qin Hua finally showed a hint of surprise.

Gong Yu held the soup bowl in her hands, taking small sips. Outside, the wind howled, causing the doors and windows to rattle faintly.

The hall, in contrast, felt almost too quiet, where even the slightest sound seemed amplified.

As her body gradually warmed up, Gong Yu grew restless and stood up to pace around. Seeing that Qin Hua seemed lost in thought, she didn’t disturb him.

It wasn’t until Qin Hua suddenly spoke again: “If we follow Your Highness’s speculation, then Chen Ming must have some flaw that can be exposed.”

“Exactly, which is why I’m waiting to see what news those three will bring back.”

“I will send someone to investigate Chen Ming’s affairs further.” It was nearly the hour of the ox, and outside, it was so dark one couldn’t see their own hand. Gong Yu yawned repeatedly.

Just then, the three burly men stumbled into the hall, covered in bloodstains—clearly, they had been discovered.

“Your Highness, the Dali Temple is riddled with hundreds of hidden traps. Except for our eldest brother, both of us fell into them.”

The leader of the burly men pulled a sachet from his bosom and said, “This was hidden in the most secure secret compartment of that official. We happened to stumble upon it and thought it might be useful, so we brought it back.”

Gong Yu held the sachet in her hand and said, “Thank you for your efforts, brave men.”

“Someone, escort these three gentlemen to have their wounds treated.”

However, there was nothing particularly special about the sachet. Aside from some fragrant herbs, nothing else was found inside.

Gong Yu said, puzzled, “What’s the secret of this sachet?”

Qin Hua approached and said, “Your Highness, may I take a look?”

“Of course.”

Qin Hua held the sachet and examined it carefully. “The silk of this sachet is of the highest quality, not something an ordinary official would use.”

“Really?” Gong Yu leaned in for a closer look. “It feels no different from the ones I usually touch.”

“Wait!” Gong Yu suddenly realized something and looked at Qin Hua. “This sachet belongs to someone from the imperial family?”

Qin Hua nodded. “Most likely.”

And so, after wasting half the night, Gong Yu realized that this might just be evidence of Chen Ming’s secret crush or first love.

Unfortunately, she still had to attend court the next day. Poor Gong Yu had to rely entirely on her willpower to stay on her feet.

As soon as court was dismissed, Gong Yu collapsed onto her bed to catch up on sleep.

Another day passed with no useful information. Gong Yu lay on the low couch in the pavilion, while a light drizzle fell outside. The weather was already bitterly cold, and now she didn’t even feel like moving.

Her mind wandered to whether she should examine the Third Prince’s corpse. After all, if she wanted to know what the Third Prince had experienced before his death, examining the body should yield new clues.

Lost in thought, Gong Yu faintly felt something tugging at her sleeve. She opened her eyes to see.

A little rabbit was hopping around near her hand, while the beauty who had released the rabbit was wandering around her pavilion.

Gong Yu blinked, thinking she was hallucinating. After a moment of stunned silence, she finally called out, “Ayan, what brings you here?”

Dai Ru Yan turned around and looked at Gong Yu, who was still lying on the low couch. Frowning slightly, she approached and said, “Why aren’t you getting up? The snow hasn’t even melted yet. If you sleep on this low couch, you’ll likely catch a cold.”

“I’m not sleeping, just thinking about something.”

“Ayan, you still haven’t told me why you have time to visit me today?” As Gong Yu spoke, she reached out and lightly tugged at the hem of Dai Ru Yan’s skirt.

Dai Ru Yan sighed helplessly and sat down beside her. Picking up the book that Gong Yu had left lying around, she asked, “Have you been very busy these past few days, Xiao Jiu?”

“Not really.” Gong Yu shifted closer to Dai Ru Yan, resting her head on her lap as she replied, “I was just thinking that even though all the royal ministers use the same materials like silk and gauze, the weaving techniques differ. Trying to find someone based on a single sachet is as difficult as climbing to the heavens.”

“Xiao Jiu, are you looking for someone?”

Dai Ru Yan gently traced circles on Gong Yu’s brow with her fingertips and asked softly, “Could it be that you’ve taken a liking to some charming young lady?”

“Yes, that girl is as beautiful as a flower, almost like a celestial being. I wish I could spend every day with her,” Gong Yu said with a laugh.

“If that’s the case, why don’t you send someone to propose? That way, you won’t risk that celestial beauty being taken by someone else.”

“Why would I need to look for her? I’m already lying in the arms of a celestial beauty right now.”

Dai Ru Yan pinched Gong Yu’s earlobe and said with a light laugh, “Xiao Jiu, you always talk nonsense.”

Gong Yu chuckled without replying, lying on her side while fiddling with the sachet in her hand, allowing Dai Ru Yan to continue rubbing her earlobe.

“This sachet doesn’t seem like something a woman would use.”

“How can you tell, Ayan?”

Dai Ru Yan reached out and took the sachet from Gong Yu’s hand, examining it as she said, “Women usually embroider peonies or osmanthus flowers, but this one has an eagle embroidered on it.”

“So, this belongs to a man?”

Who would have thought that Chen Ming would keep a man’s sachet? Gong Yu couldn’t help but let her imagination run wild.

“What’s going through your mind?” Dai Ru Yan glanced at Gong Yu and placed the sachet aside.

Gong Yu grinned foolishly without saying a word, instead grabbing Dai Ru Yan’s hands and placing them on her temples. “Ayan, give me a massage.”

“Does your head hurt?”

“No, it just feels really good when you press there.”

Dai Ru Yan’s fingertips gently massaged as her gaze drifted toward the sachet nearby before shifting away.

“I heard that the night before last, you spent most of the night in the hall with that Mr. Qin and even let him stay overnight at your residence.”

Gong Yu’s heart skipped a beat. She had almost forgotten how well-informed Dai Ru Yan was. Sending her own retainer to steal something was hardly honorable, and especially in front of Dai Ru Yan, Gong Yu naturally wanted to appear as a good child. She replied, “I was studying late at night and encountered a difficult problem, so I asked Mr. Qin to help me figure it out. It got too late, so I had him stay.”

“Is that so?” Dai Ru Yan murmured softly. “But men and women should maintain boundaries. Xiao Jiu, it’s best not to get too close to this Mr. Qin.”

“Besides, I heard that Mr. Qin was originally the retainer of the Eldest Prince. After the Eldest Prince was deposed, Mr. Qin left.”

“What are you trying to say, Ayan?” Gong Yu asked

Gong Yu sat up slightly and met Dai Ru Yan’s gaze as he said, “I had similar suspicions at first, but later I sent someone to investigate his background.”

“Mr. Qin is a man of great learning, yet he scorns the imperial examinations. He has a wife and daughter, but constrained by poverty, it’s understandable that he would seek another path for his family’s sake—especially since the elder prince, facing his own difficulties at the time, likely couldn’t afford to retain any more retainers.”