The Flirtatious Beauty Decides to Steal the Princess - Chapter 37

Wen Ying reached out to press Jiang Zhiyi’s hand, wanting to comfort her further. Yet, with Jiang Zhiyi’s father currently trapped in the palace due to these events, how could she possibly set her mind at ease?

“If those Xiongnu invaders come, it’s the common people who will suffer again. The upheaval of imperial power will only bring more turmoil to others. Ah!” Jiang Zhiyi truly cared deeply for the people. She often urged her father to consider the welfare of the masses, which was why the Minister of Works never took sides but steadfastly adhered to his own principles.

Wen Ying held a cup of warm tea but forgot to drink it. For some reason, the news of the Xiongnu invasion didn’t fill her with overwhelming worry. Instead, she felt a strange sense of calm, as if something was telling her not to overthink after all, the world was unpredictable.

Watching Jiang Zhiyi’s heartbroken expression, Wen Ying found herself at a loss for words of comfort. All she could do was sit there silently with her.

By noon, when it was time for lunch, Jiang Zhiyi, having cried her fill, lifted the handkerchief she had just used to wipe her tears. Her eyes were red and swollen as she asked Wen Ying where she had originally planned to go.

Wen Ying was taken aback, surprised that Jiang Zhiyi had noticed her intention to go out. Jiang Zhiyi glanced at the money pouch in Wen Ying’s hand and, despite her sorrow, managed a small laugh. “You silly little princess, I could tell you were planning to go out just by seeing you holding that pouch.”

Wen Ying, playfully poked on the forehead, smiled sheepishly and rubbed her head as she stood up. Linking arms with Jiang Zhiyi, she said, “Since you’re not in the best mood either, why don’t we go to Zuixian Tower together and try their new dishes?”

Worry aside, life had to go on. Jiang Zhiyi had been thinking the same thing, the meals at home had been tasteless lately, and a place like Zuixian Tower would be a welcome change.

Instead of having the servants prepare a carriage, Jiang Zhiyi chose to walk out with Wen Ying.

The weather was already warming up, and the people bustling along the main street wore light, brightly colored summer clothing. The breeze carried the scent of the approaching season.

Jiang Zhiyi, like an elder sister, constantly thought of Wen Ying wherever they went. At the eastern market, she bought jewelry for Wen Ying, and by the southern stalls, she treated her to a delicious stick of candied hawthorns. If they hadn’t reached Zuixian Tower soon, Wen Ying feared they’d both be weighed down by their purchases.

Jiang Zhiyi’s status was illustrious. Even if the staff didn’t recognize Wen Ying, they arranged for the finest private room out of respect for Jiang Zhiyi. Led upstairs by a waiter, Wen Ying realized that unlike the crowded first floor, these private rooms were individual, elegantly designed spaces reminiscent of Jiangnan’s refined aesthetic.

No wonder Zuixian Tower had stood strong through three dynasties, its business only growing more prosperous. Even Wen Ying and the other young ladies from noble households, who had seen countless luxuries, couldn’t resist its charm.

Even the pastries at Zuixian Tower had to be ordered well in advance, or they’d sell out. The fact that Jiang Zhiyi had access to a private room here spoke volumes about the Minister of Works’ esteemed reputation and considerable influence.

Wen Ying had no idea that others had to reserve a private room three days in advance. If she hadn’t come with Jiang Zhiyi today, she would’ve had to squeeze through the crowds downstairs.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like to eat, so I ordered according to my usual standards when I come here. Don’t worry, everything I’ve tasted is absolutely delicious!” Jiang Zhiyi’s confident assurance made Wen Ying feel more at ease. She nodded and walked over to push open the window of the private room herself. Watching the bustling crowd outside, she felt an immense sense of relief in her heart.

“You’re just like me neither of us wants to see the common people suffer in dire straits,” Wen Ying sighed. In truth, she should have foreseen this day long ago. Over the past few years, Emperor Wen had waged wars and slaughtered indiscriminately, turning neighboring countries against him. They had long since regarded him as a thorn in their side and were unwilling to engage with this land.

Fortunately, their own country was rich in resources, so the impact hadn’t been too severe over the years. Emperor Wen grew increasingly arrogant, even boldly declaring he would conquer Yi Qing within three years. This enraged Yi Qing, a nation beloved by many, who vowed to defend their borders at all costs.

Wen Ying truly couldn’t fathom what Emperor Wen was thinking. The nation’s prosperity and strength were built on the military achievements of the previous emperor. Since the fall of that illustrious general, no one had been capable of standing against the Xiongnu.

Now, at last, he was beginning to panic. Wen Ying sighed. Taking advantage of the waiter’s absence to relay their order to the kitchen, she closed the wooden door, leaving the two of them alone in the private room. Wen Ying wasn’t skilled in playing the flute or guqin, but seeing the instruments placed there reminded her that Jiang Zhiyi’s flute melodies were exceptionally elegant.

“Sister Jiang, would you like to give it a try?” Wen Ying’s eyes sparkled with such earnestness that few could refuse. Unable to resist her, Jiang Zhiyi took the flute and began to play.

With the window open, the melodious notes seemed to drift across the entire capital, soothing the restless hearts of the people. Wen Ying, too, felt much more at ease.

After Jiang Zhiyi finished playing, Wen Ying hummed the tune, reluctant for it to end. The piece was a fusion of many lullabies, a classical composition that revealed Jiang Zhiyi’s intent to bring comfort to everyone.

Since they were stuck with such a ruler, all they could do was pray for divine mercy to swiftly repel the Xiongnu. As for daily life, it had to go on as usual.

“Young ladies, a woman just came by. After hearing the flute from your room, she specially asked us to add persimmon cakes and jujube paste yam cloud-slice cakes to your order, all on her tab,” the waiter reported respectfully from the doorway. Wen Ying was thrilled, as these were her favorite treats, ones she hadn’t been able to enjoy since leaving the palace.

Jiang Zhiyi looked at Wen Ying, whose cheeks had finally filled out a little, and couldn’t help but feel gratified.

The waiter’s words were dismissed by Jiang Zhiyi as nothing more than a kind gesture from a music enthusiast, so she agreed to have the desserts served.

Despite the daily crowds at Zui Xian Lou, the dishes arrived swiftly. Wen Ying barely had to wait before the table was fully set.

Jiang Zhiyi carried the refined pre-meal rituals befitting a lady of noble upbringing. Wen Ying, sitting awkwardly beside her, mimicked her movements. Far from feeling constrained by these formalities, Wen Ying was fascinated by them, much like her admiration for the empress.

As Wen Ying imitated her, Jiang Zhiyi slowed her actions, ensuring Wen Ying could follow along clearly, and even patiently explained each step.

Wen Ying felt Jiang Zhiyi’s unusual tenderness, and it reminded her of the beautiful elder sister she had met one spring day in the past.

That sister would say plump girls were also beautiful, and she taught Wen Ying many things.

She would always stand behind Wen Ying, watching over her with gentle eyes. Remembering those days and nights, Wen Ying couldn’t help but feel her eyes sting with unshed tears.

But today, Jiang Zhiyi was already in a bad mood, so Wen Ying had to force herself to perk up. She buried her head in the lavish spread of dishes and ate quietly.

Jiang Zhiyi loved watching Wen Ying eat. Though she didn’t follow the refined dining etiquette cultivated by noble ladies, there was something undeniably comforting about the way she ate.

The initial worries in Jiang Zhiyi’s heart were soothed by this warm scene. She even picked up a piece of food and placed it in Wen Ying’s bowl.

It was a dried persimmon. Though Wen Ying’s mouth was already stuffed full with food, Jiang Zhiyi knew she loved it, so she gave it to her anyway.

Wen Ying stared blankly at the familiar dried persimmon, forgetting to chew. A memory flashed through her mind that day in the palace, she seemed to have handed someone a piece of dried persimmon amidst a pool of blood.

She had asked that person to stay with her forever.

Swallowing the food in her mouth hastily, Wen Ying grabbed the dried persimmon and dashed outside, running all the way to the entrance of the Drunken Immortal Pavilion. But the figure she longed to see was nowhere in sight.

“Little Wen Ying, what’s wrong?” Jiang Zhiyi, concerned, chased after her. Seeing Wen Ying’s despondent expression, she was at a loss.

Wen Ying didn’t know how to explain it to Jiang Zhiyi, but the longing she had been suppressing seemed to spill over in that moment, filling the long streets of the capital.

Dejected, Wen Ying followed Jiang Zhiyi back to the private dining room. She noticed that one of the dried persimmons on the table was missing. Lifting her hand, she saw one still resting in her palm, and for a moment, she was puzzled.

But the confusion vanished as quickly as it came. She accompanied Jiang Zhiyi through the rest of the meal, and when they stepped outside, the sky was overcast with dark clouds.

“See, when people are unhappy, even the weather turns foul.” Jiang Zhiyi still hadn’t cheered up. Wen Ying trailed behind her like a child, feeling as though an invisible veil separated her from everyone else.

Everything looked gray and dull. Wen Ying didn’t return to Jiang Zhiyi’s residence with her. Instead, she went back to the princess’s manor alone.

Though it was called a princess’s manor, it had grown increasingly desolate these days. Wen Ying felt like a lonely old woman, resting in the vast emptiness of the house for what seemed like an eternity.

Yun Chu wasn’t by her side, and Fu Qingyin’s whereabouts were unknown. Wen Ying wondered how things were in their homeland of Yi Qing.

When she had helped Fu Qingyin escape, Wen Ying had already known that once she left, she might never return. Watching Fu Qingyin’s retreating figure, she had foreseen this day.

Yet she hadn’t expected that the sight of a dried persimmon would unsettle her so deeply. Silently, she vowed never to eat dried persimmons again.

“Princess.” A maid’s voice startled Wen Ying out of her thoughts. She snapped back to reality. “What is it?”

“Princess, while you were out earlier, someone left a flower for you.” The maid presented a lotus flower, its petals still glistening with droplets of water, as if freshly plucked.

Staring at the lotus, Wen Ying’s mind raced with flashes of a figure in green robes. But she suppressed the surge of longing, not daring to dwell on it.

Instead, she feigned casualness and asked, “What color was that person’s clothing?”

“Dark, dressed entirely in dark robes.” The maid struggled to recall. The person was masked, not allowing her to see their face, but carried a unique, faint fragrance.

Yet the maid didn’t elaborate, and Wen Ying….

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