Chapter 93
Chapter 93: You Think You Deserve to Pine After the Buddhist Scion?
The Imperial Palace, Zhao Hua Terrace.
Incense drifted in pale ribbons through a hall of gold and lacquer.
Third Princess Xuan Ji lifted her skirt and hurried to Consort Li, cheeks flushed like spring blossoms, eyes bright with barely contained sweetness.
“Consort Mother,” she said, voice soft and clinging with shy anticipation, “what do you think… of Lin Qing Xuan?”
Consort Li was skimming foam from her tea with the lid. Her hand stilled.
She raised her eyes and looked at her daughter as if seeing her for the first time. “Hm?”
Xuan Ji leaned closer, afraid she hadn’t heard. “I mean Yuan Jue—the Buddhist Scion. The Eldest Grandson in the Heir Apparent’s manor. Lin Qing Xuan.”
She repeated the name, unable to hide the hunger in her voice. “This daughter thinks he’s… very good.”
Consort Li understood at last.
In her mind appeared that ascetic face—calm, distant, mercy in his eyes and restraint in every line of him.
Then she looked at her own daughter, practically glowing with the urge to pounce.
A slow, sharp curve formed at the corner of Consort Li’s mouth.
“You?” she said, dragging the word out like a blade. “And the Buddhist Scion?”
Xuan Ji heard only encouragement. Her eyes lit even brighter. She nodded hard and clutched Consort Li’s sleeve.
“Yes! Him! Lin Qing Xuan. Yuan Jue. The Buddhist Scion!”
“Consort Mother always said you’d choose the best husband for this daughter among the noble families of the capital. Do you think he and I… are well matched?”
Consort Li burst into laughter.
It was loud, unrestrained, shaking her shoulders until tears nearly came.
“Xuan Ji,” she said, beckoning with a smile, “come here.”
Xuan Ji moved closer, believing she was about to receive some secret tenderness.
Consort Li’s fingers were cold when they touched her daughter’s hot cheek—patting, gentle as a lullaby.
The words, however, were ice.
“This face,” Consort Li murmured, “really is an imperial heirloom. Thick beyond belief.”
Xuan Ji’s smile stiffened. “Consort Mother…?”
Consort Li’s laughter vanished. In a flash, she shoved Xuan Ji away, voice turning sharp and cruel.
“You think you deserve to pine after the Buddhist Scion?”
She laughed again, bright with contempt. “That’s the funniest joke I’ve heard all year.”
Xuan Ji stumbled back, barely catching herself. Shame and anger flooded her pretty face, red and white flashing like stormlight.
“Consort Mother, why don’t I deserve it? I’m a princess too—”
“Enough!” Consort Li cut her off, eyes dark with disappointment. “What is in your head, paste?”
“Go. Copy the Heart Sutra. Two hundred times.”
“Sit there and learn what ‘form is emptiness, emptiness is form’ means.”
She turned away as if another glance would exhaust her, then barked at the delicate-faced eunuch waiting nearby.
“Little Ji Zi.”
“Watch the princess copy scriptures.”
“If she can’t finish two hundred, she does not leave this hall by even one step.”
“Consort Mother!” Xuan Ji finally flared, pride stung raw. “I’m grown now! I’m not the little Xuan Ji you used to hit and scold. How can you punish me whenever you like?”
Consort Li didn’t bother to look back. She swept away, leaving only a cold spine of a silhouette.
Xuan Ji swallowed her rage and, grudgingly, spread paper and brush.
She ground ink and copied at first, stroke by stroke, forcing patience into her fingers.
But after only a few lines, the words blurred into boredom. The scripture tasted like sand in her mouth, dry and endless.
Her brush began to wander, her thoughts drifting far beyond the page.
At that moment, the door opened softly.
Little Ji Zi entered with a tea tray, head lowered, steps quiet.
“Princess, have some tea,” he said gently. “To moisten your throat.”
Xuan Ji’s irritation was still simmering when the corner of her eye caught him. Her gaze sharpened. A slow, amused smile lifted her lips.
As Little Ji Zi bent to offer the cup, Xuan Ji flicked her wrist and hooked the base of the saucer with her brush handle.
Hot tea splashed in a bright arc, pouring straight down his chest.
Little Ji Zi went white. The tray clattered to the floor. He dropped to his knees and began to bow frantically.
“Princess, forgive me! This servant deserves death—this servant deserves death!”
Xuan Ji tilted her head, biting the end of her brush, eyes glittering with cruel curiosity.
“It’s only tea. Why are you talking about death?”
She lifted her foot and nudged his chin up with the tip of her embroidered shoe.
“Look up. Let this princess see you properly.”
Little Ji Zi’s face was ghost-pale, lips trembling, fear shining wet in his eyes.
Xuan Ji’s voice softened into false concern. “Your clothes are soaked. How improper.”
Her eyes, however, slid brazenly over the wet fabric clinging to his skin, tracing the shape beneath.
Little Ji Zi shuddered. “This servant will change at once! I wouldn’t dare trouble the princess!”
“What’s the rush?” Xuan Ji tossed her brush aside and stood, stepping toward him with slow intent. “Come here.”
“This princess… will help you change.”
Little Ji Zi recoiled, hands raised in panic. “N-no! This servant wouldn’t dare!”
Xuan Ji reached for his belt—
“Ahem. Ahem.”
Two heavy coughs sounded from the doorway, thick with warning.
A matron stood there—Consort Li’s most trusted attendant, eyes like iron.
“Princess,” Matron Qiao said, voice level and immovable, “Lady Consort Li has ordered that if the Heart Sutra is not finished today, you will not eat.”
Matron Qiao had watched Xuan Ji grow up. She knew this princess feared no one—except her mother and the old palace hands who served her.
Xuan Ji’s hand froze midair.
The playful look vanished at once. She forced a bright, obedient smile.
“Matron! Why are you here? I’m copying, I am. Little Ji Zi was clumsy and spilled the tea himself. I was only scolding him.”
She waved impatiently at the trembling eunuch. “Go. Get out. You’re in the way.”
Little Ji Zi scrambled up as if spared by heaven and fled, forgetting even to bow.
Matron Qiao turned and went straight to Consort Li’s chambers.
“Reporting, Lady—just now in the study, the Third Princess… tried to undress Little Ji Zi.”
Consort Li’s teacup hit the floor and shattered.
Rage made her hands shake, her breath coming hard.
She knew her daughter’s nature. She simply hadn’t expected her to be so shameless—so reckless—right under her roof, right after being punished.
“That wretched creature!”
Consort Li pressed a hand to her brow, chest rising and falling as if she were trying not to break apart.
“Bring me two capable matrons,” she ordered sharply. “Starting tomorrow, she will relearn women’s virtue. Twelve hours a day. Watch her without blinking.”
“Yes, Lady.”
“And one more thing.” Consort Li’s voice turned cold with resolve. “Matron Qiao, bring me the portraits of eligible men from the storeroom.”
“I will review them myself.”
“It’s time to find Xuan Ji a husband and marry her off—quickly.”
She paused, then added with grim finality, “Tell them to broaden their standards. If there is a man of upright character who can keep her in line, even if he isn’t from a great noble house, he will do.”