Chapter 44
Chapter 44: Undercurrents at the Flower-Viewing Banquet
The lingering heat of the earlier farce hadn’t dispersed. The air still carried a cloying sweetness that made the stomach turn, threaded with a faint, persistent malice.
Noble ladies clustered in twos and threes, smiling warmly on the surface. Beneath those smiles, calculation and disdain flashed so openly it was almost insulting.
Anyone with a cleaner heart had already realized the truth: the Third Princess’s banquet wasn’t a celebration.
It was a killing ground disguised in flowers—a feast of traps.
Qiu Ru Ying was among those who understood.
She’d already pulled Lin Yu Jiao into a quiet corner, refusing even a single sip of tea.
“There are male guests mixed in today,” Qiu Ru Ying said, frowning, her fingertips tracing the rim of her cup without lifting it. “And those actors’ eyes… they’re far too bold. This isn’t how a proper flower-viewing should be.”
Lin Yu Jiao kept her posture high, but her mouth curved with thin, knowing mockery as she leaned closer.
“My dear sister, you’re not meeting her for the first time.”
“The Third Princess has one specialty: madness.”
“She loves watching noble ladies who pride themselves on dignity humiliate themselves in public. If she hasn’t planned a stunt today, I’ll eat my own handkerchief.”
Qiu Ru Ying’s brows drew tighter, unease settling into her eyes. She was about to speak—
Crash.
Porcelain shattered, sharp as a needle driven straight into everyone’s ear.
All heads turned.
Lin Yu Ning stood frozen over a scatter of broken celadon, her face drained to white.
At her feet lay glossy shards, the entwined lotus pattern cracked into something ugly and final.
Everyone recognized it.
It was Xuan Ji’s prized former-dynasty imperial-kiln vase with an entwined lotus design—said to be one of a kind.
A cold certainty sank through the garden.
They were finished.
Silence fell so hard it seemed to press on the lungs.
On the main seat, the Third Princess, Xuan Ji, rose slowly.
Her movements were unhurried, almost savoring, as if she were watching a play performed for her alone.
A half-smile sat on her beautiful face. Her gaze, cold and intent as a serpent’s, locked onto Lin Yu Ning.
“Third Miss Lin.”
Her voice was gentle, almost intimate.
That softness made it worse.
“This vase of mine came from the former dynasty’s imperial kilns,” she said. “Search the world, and you will not find a second.”
Lin Yu Ning’s knees nearly gave out.
She bowed hastily, voice shaking apart. “Please forgive me, Princess. I—I truly didn’t mean it. Someone seemed to bump me just now…”
Tears trembled on her lashes, ready to spill.
Xuan Ji lifted a hand—light, effortless. The motion carried unquestionable authority, silencing Lin Yu Ning at once.
Her smile deepened. It never warmed.
“But the vase broke with only you beside it. Everyone saw.”
“I have always been generous,” she continued, voice sweet as wine. “I’m not someone who counts every grain of sand.”
“Since it was unintentional, I won’t make it hard for you.”
“So you needn’t pay silver.”
Relief surged through Lin Yu Ning so fast it nearly made her dizzy. Color returned faintly to her cheeks.
Then Xuan Ji’s tone shifted—still gentle, still smiling.
“I’ve heard your cousin, Lin Qing Xuan—the capital’s number one Buddhist Scion—is skilled in the teachings,” she said. “His copying of scripture is said to calm the mind.”
She let the words stretch, slow and deliberate, enjoying Lin Yu Ning’s growing dread.
“So how about this…”
“You ask him to write a Heart Sutra in his own hand for this princess. Do that, and this matter ends here.”
“Agreed?”
Lin Yu Ning stared, stunned—then turned instinctively toward Lin Yu Jiao, eyes pleading.
Lin Yu Jiao’s brow knotted into a hard, furious line. Her hand clenched at her side, nails digging into her palm.
This wasn’t compensation.
It was provocation dressed in silk.
The vase had never been the point. Lin Yu Ning had never been the point.
The target was Lin Qing Xuan.
But under so many eyes, with the Third Princess framing it as generosity, refusing would be tantamount to slapping the imperial family in public.
The General Manor couldn’t afford that kind of enemy.
Under the weight of countless gazes, Lin Yu Ning felt her throat closing.
She bit her lip until she tasted blood.
At last, she forced out the words.
“…I obey.”
“Good.” Xuan Ji nodded, satisfied, and finally withdrew that suffocating stare.
Just before she sat, her phoenix eyes flicked—light as a brushstroke—over Qiu Ru Ying.
There was something amused in the look. Something measuring.
Qiu Ru Ying’s heart jolted. A bad feeling rose like cold water.
The banquet ended soon after, hasty and strained, as if everyone were desperate to escape.
Lin Yu Jiao all but dragged Qiu Ru Ying into their carriage, as if the garden air itself could stain them.
The door slammed shut, cutting off the world.
The moment they were alone, Lin Yu Jiao snapped.
She yanked a soft cushion from the carriage wall and hurled it to the floor.
“Fuck,” she hissed, chest heaving. “That lunatic.”
“The Third Princess doesn’t ask for the Buddhist Scion’s scripture by accident. Not ever.”
Qiu Ru Ying’s face remained composed. The shock had already settled into something colder, sharper. She paused, thinking, then spoke evenly.
“She may be testing your cousin’s bottom line—seeing whether he’ll break his rules for family.”
“Or…” Qiu Ru Ying lowered her voice further, eyes narrowing. “The scripture itself may carry something we don’t understand.”
“That vile woman,” Lin Yu Jiao muttered, rubbing her forehead. Beneath her perfect makeup, fatigue and fury seeped through. “He’s too clean for her liking. She wants to drag him down into the mud.”
She inhaled slowly, forcing herself steady.
“We’ll go back, and we’ll send the youngest straight to Cousin. No matter how cold he is, he won’t refuse his own family.”
Qiu Ru Ying nodded. It was the only path left.
Then she hesitated, remembering. “Yu Jiao… at the banquet, you invited me to stay at your manor—”
Lin Yu Jiao’s eyes flared with sudden hope, as if she’d been offered a rope in deep water.
“Yes. Ru Ying, come tomorrow. Stay a few days.”
Her grip tightened around Qiu Ru Ying’s hand, urgent.
“It’ll help us lie low. And you saw it—the way the Third Princess looked at you at the end.”
“She noticed us together,” Lin Yu Jiao said, voice tight. “If she decides to play with us next… we need to stand together.”
Qiu Ru Ying studied her for a beat, then squeezed her hand back and patted it gently—a quiet anchor.
“All right,” she said, soft and firm. “I’ll come.”