Volume One, Chapter Fifteen: A Sham Marriage, Genuine Affection

Everyone knew that today’s banquet was tacitly held for the Third Prince’s marriage prospects. Before these noble young ladies had even had a chance to display their various talents, the Imperial Noble Consort had already expressed her favor toward the Fourth Miss of the Song family. Was this not simply playing them for fools?

Consequently, many young ladies began to harbor secret resentment toward Song Wenyue.

Song Wenyue herself was thrown into a panic, never expecting the Imperial Noble Consort to utter such words. Yet, following her alarm came a surge of ecstasy—did this not mean she had a high chance of becoming the Third Prince’s consort?

Before she could speak, the eldest Madam Song stepped in first to answer on her behalf: "Your Highness, my daughter has been spoiled since childhood. I fear her manners may not be refined enough, and should she accidentally offend you, it would be a capital crime!"

Seeing that the eldest Madam Song knew how to conduct herself, the Imperial Noble Consort waved her hand, not forcing the issue further, merely saying with a touch of regret, "Who hasn't been a young girl once? Go on, all of you, go and play in the Imperial Garden later."

Watching a golden opportunity slip through her fingers, Song Wenyue clenched her fists, casting a look of resentment toward the eldest Madam Song. Such a perfect chance wasted for nothing; she truly could not fathom what her mother was thinking!

Having finished watching the scene, Song Yaozhu lowered her gaze to look at her own toes. The pearls on her slippers were plump and lustrous, looking as beautiful as dewdrops.

The Imperial Noble Consort’s tactics were so clumsy. With a single sentence, she had turned Song Wenyue into the common enemy of every girl present. Song Yaozhu did not even need to exert herself; those who aspired to be the Third Prince’s consort would deal with her soon enough. If she could not even see that, how could she possibly harbor ambitions of marrying into the Imperial family?

As expected, the young ladies who had entered the palace alongside Song Wenyue grew cold in their attitude toward her. Song Wenyue, still immersed in the regret of her lost opportunity, failed to notice this change.

Led by Mo Yu, the young ladies moved toward the Imperial Garden, while the noblewomen remained to keep the Imperial Noble Consort company. This was originally intended to create opportunities for the youth, sparing them the discomfort of being stifled by the presence of their elders.

Song Yaozhu sat upright, listening to the ladies discuss domestic trivialities and probe each other for information. She remained silent, and those ladies did not bother to approach her either. After all, the Prince of Xiaoyao was merely a man of leisure without an official post; there was no profit in currying favor with his consort.

However, the First Prince’s Consort, sitting nearby, noticed her silence and asked with a smile, "Why are you so quiet?"

Song Yaozhu shifted her gaze to the First Prince’s Consort. She was the eldest daughter of the Marquis of Wuding’s household, had been married into the First Prince’s manor for two years, and had given birth to the eldest imperial grandson at the beginning of the year—the only grandchild of Yuwen Wuji.

"I do not have a pleasant way with words," Song Yaozhu replied with a smile.

"Then have something to eat. The pastries in Her Majesty’s palace are made by the finest pastry chef from Suzhou," she said, pushing the plate toward her.

Song Yaozhu glanced at the pastries. The first rule of attending a palace banquet was to avoid eating or drinking whenever possible.

"They look rather ordinary."

The smile on the First Prince’s Consort’s face stiffened. She had assumed the remark about not having a pleasant way with words was merely self-deprecation, but it turned out to be true. Considering her background, it was only natural that the Prince of Xiaoyao had warned her before entering the palace, making her caution understandable.

"By the way, how is Lady Yan doing lately? She used to be a senior palace maid by my mother’s side before the Emperor bestowed her upon the Prince as a concubine. It has been a long time, and I wonder how she fares."

Song Yaozhu’s brows relaxed slightly. Why had she not seen any other women in the inner courtyard of the Prince’s manor? Furthermore, what was the meaning behind the First Prince’s Consort’s words? A mere palace maid turned concubine—was she really worth mentioning to her?

"If Your Highness wishes to see Lady Yan, you are welcome to visit my manor another day."

Seeing that Song Yaozhu’s expression remained unchanged, the First Prince’s Consort felt a sense of defeat.

Song Yaozhu pondered in silence. When Song Wenyue had mentioned two concubines in the manor, she had searched the entire inner courtyard upon returning home but found no one. Now that the First Prince’s Consort had brought it up, it seemed these two concubines were of no ordinary status.

After sitting for a while longer, the Imperial Noble Consort suggested a walk, noting that the chrysanthemums in the Imperial Garden were in bloom and inviting everyone to view them.

Walking among these noblewomen alone, Song Yaozhu showed none of the timidity or awkwardness of a country bumpkin. On the contrary, she carried herself with grace and a cool detachment, earning her a measure of respect from some of the ladies.

By the time they reached the Imperial Garden, the young men and women had already formed small groups. Song Wenyue sat alone in a pavilion, unable to understand why the friends she had been so close to had suddenly abandoned her to mingle with others.

She sat stewing in her own frustration. Seeing the eldest Madam Song and Song Yaozhu emerge, she immediately stood up and hurried toward them.

Song Yaozhu held a silk fan to shade herself from the sun. Seeing Song Wenyue trot over and affectionately link her arm, she called out, "Third Sister, you finally arrived."

Song Yaozhu subtly used her fan to create a distance, glancing around before asking, "What is the matter? Why are they not playing with you?"

Her voice was neither too soft nor too loud, just enough for those nearby to hear. A wave of awkwardness washed over the crowd.

On such an occasion, even if one disliked someone, one had to maintain appearances to demonstrate "thorough courtesy." The young ladies had tacitly agreed not to include Song Wenyue; it would have been fine if left unsaid, but having it pointed out made them appear petty and intolerant. If the Imperial Noble Consort were to remember them for such a reputation, their hopes of marrying the Third Prince would vanish!

Song Yaozhu was even more embarrassed. She had already been feeling sullen because no one was paying her any mind, and now, with a single sentence, Song Yaozhu had made her the target of everyone’s scrutiny. She had lost all face!

"That is not it at all. I was specifically waiting for you, Third Sister. We haven't seen each other for days!" Song Wenyue said with a stiff smile.

"Oh?" Song Yaozhu looked at her with a cryptic smile, the silk fan obscuring half of her face and revealing only a pair of innocent almond-shaped eyes. "Then go and play, younger sister. I shall just stay here by myself."

Song Wenyue cursed this idiot under her breath; she couldn't even help her out of a tight spot!

Frustrated and at a loss, she loosened her grip and prepared to leave. She had only taken a few steps when she saw Xie Liewei approaching. Several profligate young men followed him, chattering away, but he paid them no mind.

The man stood tall, his stride like the wind. The occasion was not particularly formal, and he wore a dark blue round-collared robe embroidered with colorful birds—a style that was understated yet bold, much like the man himself.

A silver half-mask clung to his face; the fierce, glaring expression of the mask did not make him appear cruel or violent, but rather added a sense of noble detachment. With the contrast of the profligates beside him, he appeared all the more untainted, elegant, and dashing.

Song Wenyue’s heart could not help but contract.

In the few moments she stood frozen, Xie Liewei had already passed her and walked up to Song Yaozhu.

"Your face is sunburnt," his voice was smooth, like gentle jade beads clinking together, a sound that stirred a bitter jealousy in Song Wenyue’s heart.

Song Yaozhu lifted her fan to look up at him, "Why don't you pity your wife’s wrists, my lord? They are aching from holding this up."

Her coquettish tone made Song Wenyue twist her handkerchief tightly inside her sleeve. She watched as Xie Liewei naturally reached out, took the silk fan from her, and held it over her face. The two walked shoulder-to-shoulder toward the pavilion.

Song Wenyue’s gaze turned involuntarily vicious.