It was rare to see Feng Lezhen speechless. Although Qi Jingqing was clueless when it came to matters of love, it didn’t stop him from teasing: “If Your Highness doesn’t know how to explain, then don’t.”
Feng Lezhen breathed a sigh of relief. “That would be best…”
“I’ll just ask someone else,” Qi Jingqing added leisurely.
Feng Lezhen immediately panicked. “Absolutely not! If your parents find out, I won’t be able to explain myself!”
The Marquis and his wife already feared she’d corrupt their son. If they learned they’d been talking about such things in private, they might throw her out of the marquisate on the spot, rank and titles be d*mned.
Qi Jingqing stared at her for a while before finally chuckling. Feng Lezhen blinked, realizing he was teasing her.
“You really are…” Feng Lezhen frowned, seeming displeased.
Qi Jingqing’s smile faded slightly. “My father has made things difficult for you often. And I’ve never spoken up for you. Are you… disappointed in me?”
“I understand. If you interfered too much, it would only make things worse,” Feng Lezhen replied gently.
In the Marquis and his wife’s eyes, she was nothing more than a criminal with a record. The more this “victim” Qi Jingqing sided with her, the more uneasy they became. So by staying out of it, Qi Jingqing helped ease their nerves. He was as clever as they come—he knew exactly where the line was and never crossed it.
“But if they ever go too far, Your Highness must tell me. I’ll find a way to handle it,” Qi Jingqing added.
Feng Lezhen laughed. “I know. I won’t be polite with you.”
Qi Jingqing lowered his gaze with a soft smile, once again focused on the chessboard. Seeing that he had returned to being the pure, dust-free little immortal, and wasn’t asking about awkward things between men and women, Feng Lezhen silently let out a breath of relief.
New Year’s Eve. Idle and festive. Though the room was quiet, the paper cuttings and window decorations filled the space with a subtle cheer.
Feng Lezhen liked holidays and liveliness. Sitting there with Qi Jingqing, she quickly grew restless.
“It’s quite lively outside. Don’t you want to go have a look?” she asked.
Qi Jingqing paused. “I’m not used to lively places.”
Not dislike, but not used to. Feng Lezhen fell silent for a moment. She suddenly recalled the first time she saw him in the capital—how he’d stared at the candied hawthorn in her hand in a daze—
“What’s that?” the eight-year-old Qi Jingqing had asked.
The eight-year-old Feng Lezhen had looked at him oddly. “Candied hawthorn. Haven’t you ever had one?”
“This is my first time seeing it. Is it good?” Qi Jingqing asked again.
His question made her laugh. “Your Yingguan’s candied hawthorn is famous far and wide, and you’re asking me, someone who’s lived in the palace all her life, if it’s good?”
Perhaps sensing he was being mocked, Qi Jingqing pursed his lips and stopped speaking.
She had always liked good-looking people, and eight-year-old Qi Jingqing looked like a little jade doll—delicate features, obedient and adorable. She stared a little too long, overwhelmed by how pretty he was, and couldn’t resist handing the treat over. That was the first time he ever tasted candied hawthorn.
Later, she learned that the Marquis and his wife were so obsessed with protecting his fragile health that they controlled everything he ate. Sour, cooling things like hawthorn were never allowed in the household. Naturally, Qi Jingqing had never seen candied hawthorn before.
“But you ate the whole skewer and still stood fine right in front of me. Shows you’re not as fragile as they say,” she had said confidently the next time they met, two days later. “From now on, if you want to eat something or play something, come to me. I guarantee every day you spend in the capital will be a happy one.”
Even now, when Feng Lezhen remembered that promise, she felt she’d been blindly overconfident. But before she turned nine, her life had been smooth to the point where she didn’t even know some things in this world couldn’t be done just because you willed them.
“What are you thinking about?” Qi Jingqing suddenly asked.
Feng Lezhen snapped out of it. “Hmm… just thinking about when we were kids.”
Qi Jingqing smiled at her words. “That one month in the capital was the happiest time of my life.”
“Really? Then I’m honored,” Feng Lezhen said, clasping her hands to her chest.
Qi Jingqing was amused by her gesture and was just about to say something more when she suddenly stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His breath caught, and he instinctively leaned back—only to have her grab his shoulders.
“Don’t move,” she said, and the scent of her perfume nearly overwhelmed him.
Qi Jingqing’s Adam’s apple bobbed. A strange restlessness stirred in his chest—something he’d never felt in twenty years. Like a small beast trapped in a cage, anxious and lost, yet eager to escape… only it didn’t know how.
Just as he was feeling completely at a loss, she plucked a bit of gold dust from his eyebrow.
“Leftover from pasting Spring Festival couplets, I’d guess,” Feng Lezhen said as she sat back down. The small beast in Qi Jingqing’s chest struggled twice more—then vanished quietly.
He glanced at her fingertips, then lowered his eyes and looked away. “Maybe.”
“It’s getting late. You should rest. I’m going out for a walk.” Feng Lezhen dusted off her hands and rose to leave.
Qi Jingqing quickly stopped her. “Does Your Highness have plans tonight?”
“Tonight’s for staying up and seeing in the New Year. What plans could I possibly have?” she replied.
Qi Jingqing smiled faintly. “Since I know Father and you don’t get along, I won’t invite you to the New Year’s dinner.”
“Even if you did invite me, it wouldn’t matter. I never intended to eat with you lot,” Feng Lezhen said breezily. It was true she wanted to ease relations with Qi Zhen, but that didn’t mean she had to force herself into an awkward situation during New Year’s. It was far more comfortable to spend the holiday with her own people.
Qi Jingqing chuckled. “The Marquis residence eats New Year’s dinner early—probably around the hour of Xu. If I can’t sleep afterward… may I come keep vigil with Your Highness?”
Feng Lezhen looked at him in surprise. “You want to stay up with me to see in the New Year?”
“May I?” Qi Jingqing asked.
“It’s not that you can’t,” Feng Lezhen replied, “but if I’m not mistaken, your family eats early because they don’t want to disturb your rest, right? If you sneak out instead of properly resting…”
She trailed off, but the refusal in her tone was obvious.
“Eating one stick of candied hawthorn doesn’t break a person, and staying up one night won’t ruin me either,” Qi Jingqing looked at her calmly. “I’m not that fragile, Your Highness.”
Feng Lezhen met his gaze for a moment, then suddenly smiled. “Alright. Then come.”
She added, “Just make sure no one sees you. Otherwise…”
“Otherwise people will think Your Highness is leading me astray again,” Qi Jingqing naturally finished the sentence for her.
Feng Lezhen laughed and said no more, then turned to leave. Qi Jingqing, still clear-eyed, watched her retreating figure grow smaller in the distance. Just as he was about to withdraw his gaze, she suddenly came rushing back.
“Your… your mother—” she stammered, ducking behind a folding screen. Only after hiding did she realize the screen didn’t actually conceal anything. In a panic, she scrambled for another hiding spot.
“The wardrobe,” Qi Jingqing calmly suggested.
Enlightened, Feng Lezhen quickly dove into the wardrobe.
Almost the instant the doors closed, Song Lian entered.
“Mother,” Qi Jingqing said, using the chessboard to prop himself up with effort.
Song Lian hurried to support him. “Don’t move, don’t move—sit down quickly.”
“Why are you here at this hour?” Qi Jingqing obediently sat back down.
“I just happened to see the kitchen boiling some eggs in brown sugar, and thought I’d bring you a bowl,” Song Lian said fondly, patting his head.
Behind her, a maid brought in the bowl and placed it on the table.
Inside the wardrobe, Feng Lezhen listened to the mother-son conversation and finally realized just how absurd her situation was.
Even if Song Lian had seen her, she could have just said she was here delivering medicine on Shen Suifeng’s behalf. Why the h*ll had she chosen to hide? And in the wardrobe, of all places? Now, even if there was nothing going on, it would look like there was. If she got caught, it wouldn’t just be hard to explain—it would be a massive loss of face.
She sighed inwardly. As she raised her hand, her fingers brushed against something soft. She froze. Only after realizing it was just a cloak did she relax with a bitter laugh.
Hmm? A cloak?
Feng Lezhen squinted through the faint light filtering in through the wardrobe crack and realized—it was her own cloak that she had forgotten here.
After returning from the marquisate that time, she had gotten into a cold war with Shen Suifeng and completely forgot about asking him to return it. Only now, upon seeing it again, did she recall it had been left here.
To her surprise, it had already been washed and was folded neatly in the wardrobe. Feng Lezhen smiled silently, her fingers gently caressing the soft lining of the cloak. A sudden longing stirred in her heart for her unrestrained, free-spirited Mister Shen.
“Achoo!” Shen Suifeng suddenly sneezed.
Chen Jinan stared straight ahead as if he heard nothing.
“Seems like Her Highness is thinking of me,” Shen Suifeng said to himself.
Only then did Chen Jinan glance at him. “In my hometown… one sneeze means someone’s cursing you. Two sneezes mean they’re thinking of you.”
No sooner had he said this than Shen Suifeng sneezed twice in quick succession.
“Looks like Her Highness cursed me first… then started missing me,” Shen Suifeng said gleefully.
Chen Jinan deadpanned: “…You’re a doctor. Can’t you stop believing in this kind of nonsense?”
“Ah, you just don’t get it,” Shen Suifeng replied. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging sky-high by now.
To avoid hearing more nonsense, Chen Jinan spurred his horse forward at full speed. Shen Suifeng had no choice but to race after him, abandoning his gloating.
While the two of them galloped through snow and wind, Feng Lezhen remained curled up in the dark wardrobe, hugging her very, very expensive cloak.
“Thank you, Mother. It’s just… I don’t really feel like eating right now,” Qi Jingqing said, his full attention locked on the wardrobe. When he saw a corner of her cloak peeking out, his heart nearly stopped.
“You should eat some anyway. Brown sugar is great for replenishing qi and blood,” Song Lian said.
“But…” She would probably like it.
Qi Jingqing’s refusal almost slipped out. But then he changed his mind and nodded. “Thank you, Mother. I’ll eat it all.”
“Good boy.” Song Lian patted his hand, then suddenly frowned. “Why are you so cold? Are your clothes too thin again?”
“I’m not…”
“You’re always underdressed, and that’s why you keep catching colds,” Song Lian said, then turned to instruct the maid to get him something warmer from the inner room.
Inside the wardrobe, Feng Lezhen jolted awake in alarm. She even stopped breathing.
“No need!” Qi Jingqing said sharply. The maid, startled, froze mid-step.
Song Lian jumped. “What’s wrong with you? So jumpy.”
“…I’m not cold. Doctor Shen said wearing too many layers is bad for the body,” Qi Jingqing explained calmly.
As soon as Song Lian heard that, she called the maid back. “Then don’t wear too much. Now hurry up and eat.”
“Mother, please go about your business. I’ll finish it,” Qi Jingqing smiled.
But Song Lian wasn’t buying it. “Last time you said the same thing, and then gave the whole medicinal porridge to Qi An. This time, I’m staying to watch you eat.”
He had originally wanted to save the brown sugar egg soup for Feng Lezhen: “…”
Faced with his mother who had no intention of leaving, he had no choice but to slowly pick up the spoon. Just as the first bite touched his lips, he murmured softly:
“Soft-boiled egg… the yolk’s runny.”
“Do you like it?” Song Lian asked.
The bit of fabric peeking out from the wardrobe was quietly withdrawn. A smile flickered in Qi Jingqing’s eyes. “I do.”
“Then finish it all. Don’t even leave the soup,” Song Lian said with eager anticipation.
Qi Jingqing was silent for a moment, then had no choice but to continue eating.
He wasn’t hungry to begin with, and he didn’t really like sweets either, so this bowl of brown sugar egg soup was a real challenge. By the time only a few spoonfuls remained, he was nearly sweating from the effort. Song Lian, seeing this, couldn’t bear it any longer and took the bowl away. “If you can’t eat any more, don’t force it.”
“I’m sleepy,” Qi Jingqing said.
“Then go to bed quickly. Eat well, sleep well, and you’ll be healthy,” Song Lian replied as she pushed the wheelchair to him.
Qi Jingqing smiled. “Let me walk back with the help of the table. Moving a bit is good for the body.”
“Yes, yes. A hundred steps after a meal and you’ll live to ninety-nine,” Song Lian nodded approvingly.
Qi Jingqing smiled even more. After finally coaxing his mother to leave, he quietly wiped the sweat from his forehead, braced himself on the table, struggled into his wheelchair, and wheeled over to the wardrobe.
“Your Highness, you can come out now,” he said.
There was no response from inside the wardrobe.
“Really, you can come out,” Qi Jingqing raised his voice, thinking she hadn’t heard him.
Still, there was no movement inside.
“Your Highness!” He finally panicked and quickly opened the wardrobe—only to find her curled up under the cloak, sound asleep.
The anxiety in his eyes was instantly replaced with gentleness. Qi Jingqing looked at her serene face and said nothing for a long time.
She didn’t look quite like she did as a child anymore—her features had gained a sense of maturity, and she didn’t speak or act as boldly as she once had. But her appearance hadn’t changed much—just grown more defined. Qi Jingqing stared at her for a long time. When he came back to himself, his fingers were nearly brushing her face.
He snapped out of it and pressed his lips together, withdrawing his hand and simply continued gazing at her in a daze.
When Feng Lezhen woke up, she saw him asleep in front of her. A flash of surprise crossed her eyes, but she didn’t ask why he was there. She just held her cloak and quietly tried to leave.
“Your Highness…”
Qi Jingqing, who had somehow fallen asleep, suddenly stirred and spoke, voice still heavy with drowsiness.
Feng Lezhen sighed. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“Your Highness is leaving?” Qi Jingqing asked, then saw the cloak in her arms.
Feng Lezhen noticed his gaze and raised her hand slightly. “I’m leaving—and taking my cloak.”
“I really like that cloak of yours, Your Highness. I wonder if you’d be willing to part with it?” Qi Jingqing said. For days now, every time he opened the wardrobe, it was the first thing he saw. He didn’t really want to give it back. “I have a few cloaks of my own. You can pick whichever you like.”
“This one’s not up for trade,” Feng Lezhen refused flatly.
Qi Jingqing sensed the firmness in her tone. After a pause, he asked, “Why not?”
“It was a gift from someone else. How could I just pass it on? If you like the style, I’ll have a tailor make you one in a few days,” Feng Lezhen said with a smile.
A gift from someone else—so precious she wouldn’t even consider giving it away. Qi Jingqing had a vague guess, but still asked in a neutral tone, “Was it from Doctor Shen?”
“How did you know?” Feng Lezhen asked in surprise.
Qi Jingqing’s joy from earlier today drained away like a receding tide, leaving only emptiness behind. He blinked slowly. When he looked at her again, he had already regained his composure. “Because the material used for that cloak is worth a fortune. I’m afraid aside from Your Highness, only he in the whole of Yingguan could afford something like that.”
He added with mock sorrow, “I thought Your Highness wouldn’t recognize the value. Was hoping to trade it with some cheap imitation.”
“So you were scheming against me, huh?” Feng Lezhen flicked a finger at his forehead. “Don’t even think about it. It’s mine.”
Qi Jingqing’s lips curved up, but the smile faded quickly.
Feng Lezhen snuck back into her bedchamber. After tidying up a little, it was already evening.
All her subordinates and servants came swarming into the side courtyard. The moment they saw her emerge from her room, they immediately started offering New Year’s blessings. Feng Lezhen quickly waved them off. “Alright, alright. You said your good wishes this morning and the roof collapsed from the snow right after. Let’s save it, shall we?”
“This is all my fault,” the head guard chuckled sheepishly. “Mister Shen warned me earlier, but I didn’t take it seriously. Ended up making Your Highness spend New Year’s Eve as a guest in someone else’s home. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s me.”
“It’s the New Year. Let’s not talk about that. The red envelopes are already prepared—go collect them from Fan Gonggong,” Feng Lezhen said. Right on cue, Fan Gonggong emerged from a side room with a thick stack of red envelopes, and everyone surged forward.
“Take it easy! Fan Gonggong’s no spring chicken—you’ll break him at this rate!” Feng Lezhen laughed and scolded. When she looked up, she noticed some of the Marquis residence’s staff curiously peeking from outside. She glanced at Ah Ye, who immediately slipped outside with a handful of smaller red envelopes.
After the red envelopes were handed out, the sky had completely darkened. Several tables were pushed together in the hall. The guards, working with the Marquis residence’s kitchen staff, brought out the New Year’s dinner in heat-preserving boxes. In no time, the tables were piled high with dishes.
“Back in the capital, we used to eat lightly before midnight, then wait to set off firecrackers and honor the gods before the proper feast. But here in the Marquisate, they have their own customs. Since we’re staying under someone else’s roof, we should follow their ways,” Fan Gonggong explained.
Feng Lezhen smiled. “That works too. Everyone eat early and get some rest. If you’re going out later, don’t drink too much. Go in small groups, not alone—we don’t need any accidents in this cold weather.”
“Yes, Your Highness!”
“We will obey Your Highness’ teachings!”
It was New Year’s Eve—the most important holiday in Great Qian. Even the deathsworn soldiers, who usually had discipline carved into their bones, temporarily forgot to be stiff and restrained under the joy of the occasion. Feng Lezhen sat in the seat of honor, letting them be rowdy. When the bold ones came up to toast her, she drank every glass.
“Your Highness, how about I start switching your alcohol for water?” Ah Ye whispered. “Even with a good tolerance, this much is too much.”
Feng Lezhen smiled. “It’s fine. I’m happy today.”
“Then… then maybe drink a little less,” Ah Ye murmured. But just as she finished speaking, she watched Feng Lezhen pour herself a cup of strong liquor and down it in one go without waiting for anyone to toast her.
“What did you say?” Feng Lezhen tilted her head.
Ah Ye blinked. “…Nothing. As long as Your Highness is happy.”
Feng Lezhen nodded and poured herself another cup, drinking it straight down.
After three rounds of drinks, the younger guests could no longer sit still and slipped out in small groups to have fun, leaving only a few older ones sitting at the same table with Feng Lezhen, chatting idly. The conversation became lively, until someone suddenly sighed, “Yingguan is good, but it can’t compare to the bustle and splendor of the capital.”
The moment those words were spoken, the whole room fell silent. The homesickness everyone had been suppressing surged to the surface all at once.
Feng Lezhen’s eyelids fluttered slightly, and after a pause, she slowly said, “Three years. At most three years. I will take you all home to celebrate the New Year.”
Feng Lezhen was only human, not a god. In both of her lives, there had been things she couldn’t foresee or force. But of all the promises she had ever made, not a single one had been broken.
Hearing this, everyone’s eyes turned red. Fan Gonggong was the first to stand and offer a toast. “Your Highness, three years from now, when we return, may we relive the glory days of accompanying the late Emperor on inspection tours of Great Qian.”
Feng Lezhen chuckled lightly, lifted her cup with one hand, and looked at him. “Welcomed by thousands, invincible in every direction.”
Fan Gonggong smiled, his wrinkles deepening with age. “Then this old servant will offer my congratulations three years early.”
“I humbly congratulate Your Highness.”
“This servant congratulates Your Highness.”
One voice after another echoed through the room. Feng Lezhen said no more, simply downing her cup in one go.
“Your Highness, have something to eat,” Ah Ye quickly picked up some dishes for her, worried she’d get drunk. “And some rice too. Isn’t this your favorite rice? You were just asking the Governor a few days ago how many harvests they have each year and the yield per harvest—like you were afraid there wouldn’t be enough.”
“The rice we eat in the capital is also tribute from Yingguan,” Fan Gonggong said cheerfully as he served more rice to Feng Lezhen. “It’s rich, fragrant, and sweet. It’s no wonder Your Highness loves it. Please eat more—Yingguan has rice in abundance, you’ll never go hungry.”
The two of them bickering back and forth made Feng Lezhen both laugh and cry. In the end, she gave in and ate another bowl of rice.
As the meal wound down, the guests gradually dispersed, until only Ah Ye remained at her side. Feng Lezhen told her to open the hall doors. When the cold wind blew in and brushed her face, she took another sip of wine.
“Your Highness, you’re really going to get drunk at this rate,” Ah Ye said helplessly.
Feng Lezhen smiled. “I know my limits.”
Ah Ye could tell her mood was off. After hesitating for a moment, she sat down. “Then… I’ll drink with you.”
Feng Lezhen paused, then lifted her cup to clink it lightly against Ah Ye’s. “Good girl.”
Ah Ye didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She was sure Feng Lezhen was already at least halfway drunk.
The two of them drank casually, chatting about the past and the year ahead. Unknowingly, they emptied two more jugs. Ah Ye ended up completely drunk, collapsed under the table.
Feng Lezhen, dazed and hazy, found everything dull and uninteresting. She was just about to go rest when she suddenly remembered—Qi Jingqing had said he would come spend New Year’s Eve with her after the reunion dinner.
It was already well past the hour of the dog, and he still hadn’t appeared.
If she hadn’t been drinking, she would have assumed he simply wasn’t feeling well and had gone to rest. But with too much alcohol clouding her mind, she blinked, threw on her long-lost cloak, and, staggering a little, went out to look for him.
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