Chapter 15

The distant sound of the zither had ceased at some unknown moment; the wind no longer carried the lingering melody.

Shen Su grabbed Murong Sheng by the collar and said, “Little uncle, didn’t you have something to say to Miss Jiang Wu? Let’s step aside and wait.”

Before Murong Sheng could react, he was already being pulled away.

They walked quite a distance before Shen Su disdainfully let him go.

“Are you seriously tired of living? You dared to ignore your little uncle’s words and recklessly provoke that Jiang Wu. I think you really want to die! A man should die with dignity, not like a fool. I’d rather throw you to the frontier, maybe you’ll earn the honorable reputation of dying bravely on the battlefield.”

Murong Sheng muttered, “I don’t want to die. I was just talking—no one’s going to die over it…”

“Is that so?” Shen Su’s eyes narrowed with a mocking smile. “That girl actually said if you pester her, she’ll marry you no matter what. After you die, she’d live in your big house, spend your silver, and keep a few handsome favorites, becoming a carefree widow with status.”

“Su cousin, how… how did you know that?” Murong Sheng was shocked. Could it be that someone overheard his conversation with Jiang Wu?

“There’s no wall that doesn’t let the wind through,” Shen Su said.

Moreover, the wall itself had sided with the little uncle.

Shen Su glanced in that direction, clicking his tongue in admiration.

One in ink black, the other in delicate pink; together they formed a vivid painting. The black ink outlined sturdy trees against the vast sky, while the pink depicted the delicate blossoms—the two complementing each other perfectly.

One with a fatal curse, the other just strong enough to withstand it—if not destined to be a perfect match, then what is?

“Su cousin, what do you think the young prince is saying to Jiang Wu?” Murong Sheng also looked toward them, his gaze somewhat absent-minded, his heart drifting along.

“Sheng’er, from now on, Jiang Wu has nothing to do with you. Don’t provoke her again. Even if you see her, be polite.”

“Why?”

Shen Su patted his shoulder. “Just remember, I’m doing this for your own good.”

He seemed not to hear, murmuring, “What exactly are they talking about?”

…

“Do you bear any resentment at never marrying in this life?” Murong Fan asked Jiang Si.

Jiang Si had been wondering what this prince intended to say to her. Hearing his question, she knew it was still about the unusual fate she bore.

“My lord, I have none.” She lowered her head, her gaze falling on the man’s slender, jade-like hand holding a string of prayer beads. The beads, likely made of agarwood, were polished smooth from frequent handling. As the beads rotated, a single tianyan stone revealed itself.

It was said this heavenly prince was born holding a tianyan stone—perhaps this was the very one?

“Your Highness knows that in my previous life, I was a lonely spirit, toiling without care or reliance. I often wondered what it felt like to have the love of parents or kin, to study without distraction, how fortunate that would be. In this life, I have all I wished for—I can close my ears to the world’s affairs and devote myself solely to the classics. As for marriage, it is truly insignificant to me.”

Silence surrounded them, save for the occasional breeze.

After a long while, Murong Fan asked an unrelated question.

“What is your name?”

“I am Jiang Si.”

She had been Jiang Si in her past life as well.

“Jiang Si,” Murong Fan repeated her name, his voice seeming both nearby and distant.

As if spellbound, she lifted her head to look at the man before her.

Murong Fan’s appearance was godlike—handsome and aloof, his eyes vast and all-encompassing. Though calm and compassionate, they resembled a wondrous glass mirror, reflecting countless vivid hues beneath the surface.

“Your Highness, did you receive the letter I sent you?”

“Yes.”

…

“May I leave now?”

“Yes.”

A few steps outside, Jiang Si remembered something and asked, “Your Highness, now that you know everything about today’s matter, do I still need to write to clarify?”

Murong Fan’s only reply was a calm silence.

Silence meant consent—no more letters.

She quickened her pace to reunite with her family.

No one had left early; all waited where she was. From afar, she saw her mother repeatedly looking toward her and waving.

Madam Gu saw her too and hurried forward.

“Yu’er, why did the princess consort ask for you?”

Jiang Si glanced at everyone, deliberately pausing on Jiang Ji. “It wasn’t the princess consort—it was the heir apparent who sought me.”

At this, the expressions around her subtly shifted.

Feigning innocence, her small face went stern as she said indignantly, “The heir came looking for me to settle accounts. He said the birthday gift I gave him was made with malicious intent.”

The crowd was shocked.

Madam Gu hurried to ask, “Yu’er, what’s going on? Didn’t you give him a inkstone? How could that be malicious?”

“I don’t know.” Jiang Si grew angrier. “I don’t know which black-hearted person smashed the inkstone. The heir said I gave him a pile of broken stones. I was so upset he came to confront me.”

“How did the inkstone break?” Madam Gu asked, frowning.

Zhu An whispered, “Third Madam, it’s my fault. I was careless. Just now, Miss Wu asked if the item had ever left my hands. I could only recall when we loaded the carriage—the maid Liu Feng came to find me…”

Liu Feng was Jiang Ji’s maid. Hearing this, she protested loudly, “Zhu An, you’re slandering me. I came to find you and walked with you; how could I have done such a thing?”

“I never said it was you,” Zhu An retorted. “I’m just trying to remember where I was negligent…”

“That’s enough. We’ll discuss this later.” Madam Xie had been the mistress of the household for years; she already understood the situation. Such tricks were common in large mansions. She shot a sharp glance at Jiang Ji.

Jiang Ji’s eyes reddened with grievance. “Mother, I definitely didn’t…”

Before she could finish, Madam Xie asked Jiang Si, “Miss Wu, how did you respond to the heir apparent?”

Madam Xie knew better than anyone that no matter who did this, it was a family matter for the Jiang household. Any investigation or punishment would wait until they returned home.

What mattered now was how to explain this to the prince’s mansion and the heir apparent. No matter how the inkstone broke, the immediate priority was to smooth things over.

Jiang Si’s face still showed anger, childlike and straightforward. “I can’t restore the inkstone, so I just went along with it and said that broken inkstone was my gift, wishing him peace year after year.”

Madam Gu’s worried heart immediately relaxed.

Madam Xie was also pleased. “Miss Wu, you handled it well.”

After returning home, the entire Jiang household soon learned of Miss Wu’s grand performance at the prince’s mansion. The whole family buzzed about the few magic tricks she had pulled off.

Jiang Xuan clutched his chest and groaned, face full of grievance, accusing Jiang Si of being heartless.

“I’m your second brother! I secretly took you to watch acrobats as a child. When did you learn magic tricks? I never knew! You little heartless one!”

Jiang Si hid behind Madam Gu, laughing. “Second brother, you can’t blame me. I didn’t even know I could do magic tricks. If I hadn’t been forced today, I really wouldn’t have known.”

Madam Gu’s expression grew pale.

She understood the situation clearly: Fourth Miss was probably…

Worried for her daughter, she carefully and repeatedly warned her to keep her distance from Jiang Ji and to stay alert in daily life.

Jiang Si obediently promised.

But keeping away was impossible; even if she wanted to, Jiang Ji wouldn’t agree.

The two of them: one once the heroine, the other merely expendable. The expendable one hadn’t died; the heroine had seemingly darkened—or perhaps was dark from the start. So now, things wouldn’t end well.

…

The night was deep, with no stars or moon in sight.

Jiang Si was lost in a dream, as if surrounded by a sea of flowers. The blooms fought for beauty—red, pink, purple, yellow, white—clusters of glorious blossoms inviting affection.

She leaned in to catch the faint, cool fragrance.

The scent reached her mind, and she suddenly woke. Staring blankly at the canopy overhead, she wondered why she’d awakened so abruptly. Turning her head subtly, she was startled into a shiver.

A night candle burned in the room, clipped low so its light was faint, barely enough to see by.

Sitting by the bed was a man, dressed in black with his hair loose. Even seated, he exuded an ethereal grace. His exquisite features framed calm, unfathomable eyes that seemed to embrace all the world’s sorrows.

Murong Fan!

Could it be that because she hadn’t written a letter today, the prince came overnight to inquire?

Hadn’t she asked him already?

That couldn’t be.

As she tried to sit up, she suddenly felt two fingers pressing on her pulse.

“Your Highness, you know medicine?”

“Idle moments led me to learn a bit,” Murong Fan said gently. “Your qi and blood are weak and floating; yin is depleted and you’re frail. Without nourishing yang, you won’t live long, and your offspring won’t thrive.”

Longevity was indeed a serious matter.

She sat up, arranging her disheveled hair. “Your Highness, how should I regulate my health to ensure a longer life?”

Her black hair veiled her face more; the gentle hand covering it made her delicate features seem even more tender. Her porcelain skin and youthful innocence contrasted with eyes clear and deep, reflecting a life’s worth of experience.

Murong Fan looked at her and said, “I will prepare some pills for you—both to prolong life and aid fertility.”

That was excellent news.

But as a girl who could not marry, what did having children matter to her?

“Your Highness, no need to trouble yourself. Whether I bear children or not, it’s irrelevant. You said I cannot marry, so whether this illness is cured or not doesn’t matter. Just give me pills to nourish longevity.”

“I said you can’t marry, but never that you can’t have children. Whether you can is your foundation; whether you do is your choice. If you wish in the future, you could leave the capital to bear children—perhaps claim your husband died early or a divorce by mutual consent. Having a child would be better than dying alone.”

Hearing this from an ancient noble shocked Jiang Si profoundly.

Beyond shock, her heart stirred deeply.

“Your Highness, your enlightened thoughts surpass everyone else’s in this world by centuries—perhaps even a thousand years.”

“Centuries?”

Too few?

She smiled, raising a finger. “Then make it a thousand years.”