Chapter 68
Chapter 68: Qiu Ru Ying’s Awakening
From the day Lin Yu Jiao heard Lin Qing Xuan was injured, she wrote a letter at once, urging Qiu Ru Ying to hurry over and visit.
In her mind, she had the gift of tying red threads—and the duty to lock Qiu Ru Ying and Lin Qing Xuan, that golden child and jade girl, together for life.
Outside the Auspicious Cloud Residence, Lin Yu Jiao dragged Qiu Ru Ying along at a near-run, feet flying as if she’d strapped wheels of fire beneath her shoes. Her mouth never stopped.
“Ru Ying, listen—Cousin is sick! Heaven is feeding you a meal right to your mouth. This is a gift-wrapped chance!”
Her brows danced. If she’d had a brush, she might’ve written three bold words across her own face:
Make trouble.
“Hurry! Take that Buddhist scripture and go ask him questions. Back and forth, a man and a woman alone in a room—dry wood meeting fire… I mean, feelings growing over time! Won’t it naturally become love?”
Qiu Ru Ying stumbled from the pull. Her delicate face held pure helplessness as she shook her head.
“Yu Jiao, Cousin is a Buddhist Scion. He cultivates purity and restraint. How could he be moved by something so small?”
Lin Yu Jiao stomped, furious at her lack of ambition, and tugged even harder.
“Aiya, trust me! Think about it—when he’s sick, his mind is weakest. He needs care the most. If you show concern now, won’t you get twice the result with half the effort? That’s called striking when he’s unguarded—do you understand?”
Qiu Ru Ying didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the crooked logic. She let herself be pulled, but her own heart stayed clear.
Inside the Auspicious Cloud Residence, these past days had belonged to Xiao Man.
She attended Lin Qing Xuan closely, careful as a shadow.
Lin Qing Xuan said nothing aloud, but joy had already bloomed in his chest, bright and irrepressible. Bubbles of sweetness rose from the bottom of his heart until he felt almost drowned in it.
The thin paper window between them hadn’t been pierced—not yet—but it grew more transparent by the day.
Even the air seemed to carry a soft, ambiguous warmth, thick enough to squeeze into water.
Now they stood side by side beneath the corridor eaves.
Early winter wind cut through the courtyard, sharp as a blade. Xiao Man had just come in from outside, and her hands were swollen red with cold.
Lin Qing Xuan’s brows drew together at once. Without a word, he caught her hands and folded them tight in his palms.
“It’s only early winter. Why are your hands already this cold?”
He bent his head. Warm breath spilled over her reddened fingertips, gentle and patient.
The heat brushed her skin—itchy, tingling—like a weak current that shot through her whole body.
Xiao Man’s ears flushed bright red, but she still wouldn’t yield with her mouth.
“None of your business! I was born with weak qi and blood—”
Her words snapped off.
Her whole body went still.
At the courtyard gate stood two figures, frozen, eyes wide as if turned to stone.
Lin Yu Jiao.
Qiu Ru Ying.
Four people. Eight eyes. The cold air hung between them.
Time stopped.
Lin Qing Xuan was still bent close, breathing warmth into her fingers.
Xiao Man’s hands were still sealed in his palms, without the smallest gap.
The posture was too intimate—leaving no space for anyone else.
Qiu Ru Ying and Lin Yu Jiao stood there stunned, minds blank.
So it was already like this.
Lin Yu Jiao snapped out of shock first. She pointed at them, voice pitching up with disbelief.
“Cousin! You—you two—”
“Yu Jiao.”
Qiu Ru Ying caught her arm and stopped her before she could burst apart.
Her gaze was calm, steady. She shook her head slightly—an unspoken warning.
The scene was awkward enough. Pressing further would only trap everyone.
Lin Qing Xuan straightened at last, slow and unhurried—and still didn’t let go. If anything, his fingers tightened around Xiao Man’s hands, firm and possessive.
He looked at the two by the gate with a calm so smooth it felt like a blade hidden under silk.
A few polite, hollow words passed between them.
Then Lin Yu Jiao and Qiu Ru Ying could not bear another heartbeat of it. They left as if fleeing.
On the way back, Lin Yu Jiao’s anger exploded. She stomped until her shoes snapped against stone, ready to shout a thousand injustices for Qiu Ru Ying.
“This is too much! How can Cousin do this? How could he fall for a maid? Ru Ying, what do you have that’s worse than her?”
Even though Lin Yu Jiao knew it deep down, she still couldn’t accept it in her heart.
Qiu Ru Ying held her sleeve and spoke softly.
“Yu Jiao. Watch your words.”
Her tone was light, but it carried a calm that steadied the mind.
“Look at them. You can’t hide that affection in their eyes. They are clearly fond of each other—sweet, too.”
“I understand you meant to match me with Cousin, but a gentleman does not steal what others love. And besides…” She smiled faintly. “I never had romantic feelings for him. I only admired his Buddhist teachings.”
Her frankness made Lin Yu Jiao’s face burn. She lowered her head, shame choking the words from her mouth.
At the Third Princess Manor, Princess Xuan Ji lounged on a soft couch laid with a whole white-fox pelt. In her slender fingers she held a secret letter, lips curved into a smile cold enough to frost glass.
“Qiu Ru Ying?”
She spoke the name like something distasteful.
“Her? She thinks she’s worthy to covet the person this princess has chosen?”
The letter said it plainly: Miss of the Qiu family had been visiting the Heir Apparent’s Manor often lately, spending time with Lin Qing Xuan, the Buddhist Scion, and was frequently seen holding a Buddhist scripture Lin Qing Xuan had translated with his own hand.
“In this world,” Princess Xuan Ji murmured, voice soft and lethal, “there is only what this princess does not want.”
“There is nothing this princess cannot get.”
Her fingers clenched. The paper creased sharply in her grip. Violence lit her beautiful face.
She turned to the trusted matron beside her and gave a cold order. “Go. Send the Qiu family a flower-viewing invitation.”
Since you love Buddhist scriptures so much… this princess would make you, before every noble lady in the capital, properly “enlighten” yourself until you’d had enough.
The flower-viewing invitations from the Third Princess Manor swept through the capital with astonishing speed.
They were exquisite—gold-stamped cover, a peony pressed in lifelike relief. Inside, elegant script announced that in winter’s harsh cold, Princess Xuan Ji’s private residence had obtained a rare green peony blooming out of season, named Spring Dawn, and invited all sisters to come admire the marvel.
The signature at the end was unmistakable:
Third Princess Xuan Ji.
The noble lady circle in the capital exploded.
A peony blooming in winter?
A green peony, a rarity spoken of only in legends?
Unheard of.
Everyone talked, and those who received invitations began racking their brains over outfits and ornaments, eager to shine before the princess.
The news naturally drifted to Yao Xiao Man as well.
She was in the courtyard helping Lin Qing Xuan air books when she heard the maids gossiping. Her hands paused mid-motion.
A peony blooming in winter?
Her first thought was simple: greenhouse.
Then she remembered the era she lived in—and the limits of its craft.
She clicked her tongue.
Unless…
Was this Third Princess Xuan Ji the sort of terrifying figure stories were built around—someone like the legendary Empress Wu, with power enough to make a hundred flowers bow and bloom for her alone?
Either way, it felt wrong.
Too strange.
Too sharp around the edges.