Choice

At the utterance, everyone in the pavilion was startled. The Crown Prince glanced sideways slightly, his expression clouded with displeasure.

Xia Yunhe paid no heed to the gazes of the crowd; her eyes lowered to the Seventh Prince, a faint smile curling her lips. Beside her, the crimson plum blossoms complemented her pale figure. Her loose, rosy official robe made her appear even more slender, exuding an ethereal and solitary grace.

The young prince looked up at her, his amber eyes betraying a hint of envy, then turned to the Crown Prince and others, calling out pitifully, “Brother.”

That single word “Brother” sent a shiver through everyone present. The Crown Prince’s face grew even more expressionless. The Fifth Prince stepped forward, his disdain obvious, and reprimanded sharply, “How dare you! Who is your brother? Don’t try to cozy up to us.”

The Seventh Prince cast a sorrowful glance toward Eunuch Li, his eyes shimmering with tears. This pitiful, resigned demeanor stirred sympathy in anyone who saw it.

Xia Yunhe recalled the decisive and ruthless prince-general from her memories, feeling a lightness in her heart. It seemed the piece she had chosen was quite intriguing.

After all, a prince sent to the northern barbarians as a hostage for six years since the age of seven, lacking a sharp mind, would have long perished in a foreign land. She did not mind lending a hand to her little pawn to stir up trouble.

With this in mind, Xia Yunhe cupped her hands and said to Chief Steward Li Fushun, “Chief Steward Li, His Majesty has specially permitted me to choose my own disciple. Though my learning is shallow, I dare not try the other princes. The Seventh Prince has just returned to the country and may be unfamiliar with our customs and traditions. I intend to assist him in understanding, as a way to repay His Majesty’s favor.”

Typically, a prince’s tutor was selected by the emperor, but His Majesty allowed Xia Yunhe to choose freely. For a mere seventh-rank Hanlin Academy editor to receive such grace puzzled many, and now Xia Yunhe made such a move again.

Seeing the Crown Prince’s face darken further, Li Fushun nervously spoke, “Your Highness, His Majesty said to let Lady Xia choose for herself. What do you think?”

After a long pause, the Crown Prince suddenly reached out and snapped a branch of red plum blossom beside Xia Yunhe. A smile returned to his face as he told his attendants behind him, “These red plum blossoms are quite good. Pick a few more to take home.” Without another glance at the crowd, he swept his sleeve and left. The group followed closely, their procession grand as they departed the Plum Scent Pavilion.

The pavilion fell into a cold silence. Xia Yunhe rubbed her hands to warm them, covering a cough. A weight settled on her shoulders as a white fox fur cloak was draped over her again. She turned to look back; the Seventh Prince, Xie Yi, lowered his lashes and calmly said, “Lady Xia, you have a cold. Please keep the fox fur.”

He stood alone in the snow in a thin robe, quietly, his thoughts unreadable.

Though a prince, he always bore a humble demeanor, a stark contrast to the reckless general she had known at the border in her previous life. Xia Yunhe tightened her cloak and sighed deeply. Well, she would treat him merely as a piece on her chessboard—as long as he was useful.

Li Fushun noticed and said to Xia Yunhe, “Since you have chosen the Seventh Prince, let’s return to report and prepare the formal initiation ceremony.”

In her previous life, Xia Yunhe had been the Crown Prince’s tutor, and the initiation ceremony had been prepared by the Eastern Palace attendants. The Seventh Prince’s mother had passed away early, and having been a hostage for six years, the responsibility of preparing the ceremony naturally fell to Li Fushun. It was not troublesome, and he could benefit from it, so he was happy to handle the matter.

Xia Yunhe followed Li Fushun to the Imperial Study, recounting the journey’s events to the emperor. Emperor He Hui was surprised by her choice of the Seventh Prince and asked many questions. He also instructed Li Fushun to arrange clothing, firewood, the initiation ceremony, and the tribute. Li Fushun took his orders and left.

He Hui then smiled kindly and asked, “I have heard that Yi Zhi is arrogant and talented, well-known in Dongluo. Why are you willing to teach the Seventh Prince? Your teacher, Liu Rongshan, strongly recommended you as the Crown Prince’s tutor.”

Hearing Liu Rongshan’s name, Xia Yunhe’s heart filled with loathing, though only momentarily, enough to escape the emperor’s notice.

She knelt, bowing her head to the ground. “The Seventh Prince has long dwelt beyond the frontier and does not understand the customs and etiquette of our country. I only wish to help lighten Your Majesty’s burdens.”

He Hui chuckled, closing the memorial in his hands and lightly striking the table. “Etiquette and rules can be taught by the palace eunuchs. The top scholar I’ve watched grow up does not learn flattery and does not speak truthfully before me.”

“I am, I am fearful,” Xia Yunhe lowered her eyes, remaining silent. Reborn, she was no longer the proud novice of her first career.

Perhaps He Hui was in a good mood and asked no further questions, dismissing her.

But she had barely taken a few steps when she met the Seventh Prince Xie Yi again in the corridor. He was still dressed lightly, his cheeks flushed rosy, as if waiting specifically for her. Upon seeing her, he said nothing but smiled, revealing small tiger-like teeth, then grabbed her hand and pressed a golden embroidered talisman into it.

Xia Yunhe felt the talisman, sensing a small raised segment inside. Xie Yi explained, “There is a piece of cypress hidden inside, symbolizing warding off evil and ensuring safety.”

She smiled, bowed deeply to the Seventh Prince in thanks, and prepared to leave. Yet Xie Yi tugged her sleeve. Xia Yunhe turned and studied him for a moment, then asked, “Your Highness, do you have something else?”

He released her sleeve, glanced around to ensure no one was nearby, then leaned close to whisper, “Duke Dingguo is waiting at the palace gate. If you leave the palace now, you will encounter him.”

Seeing her frown, Xie Yi suggested, “Why not stay at my place for a moment? Wait until Duke Dingguo leaves, then you can leave the palace.”

His handsome face held a sharpness hidden in his amber eyes. The tip of his ear glowed faintly red in the sunset, giving him a slyness beyond his years. It seemed he only revealed his true nature when alone.

Xia Yunhe said, “Thank you, Your Highness, but you don’t know. As an outsider, I cannot linger inside the inner court without reason.”

Xie Yi was momentarily stunned, frowned, wanted to say more but lost his nerve, saluted, and left.

Having dared to select the Seventh Prince today, Xia Yunhe had already resolved to confront Duke Dingguo. Entering the prince’s chambers without permission risked being exploited by those with ill intent and impeached during court discussions.

Passing through Qianqing Gate, someone blocked her way and escorted her to Duke Dingguo Liu Rongshan. The man had frost at his temples, long beard and short mustache, leopard-like eyes and thick brows—a martial appearance but the head of the civil officials.

Seeing the familiar face, Xia Yunhe’s mind buzzed, recalling days in the Zhaoyi Prison.

Her fingertips were raw and sore. Liu Rongshan visited her, squinting kindly, speaking warmly, “Yi Zhi, why are you still so bookish and idealistic? Your grievances are known to me. Today I personally went to the Rongbao Studio to buy brushes, ink, inkstone, and paper. Write down your grievances, and I will present them to His Majesty for you.”

“Write… why don’t you write…”

Knowing her fingers were raw and she could not hold a brush, Liu Rongshan had her dictate her complaint, then summoned a clerk to write for her. He glanced over the petition, tucked it into his sleeve, and left slowly.

Only after her death did she learn Liu Rongshan never submitted her petition but burned it by candlelight in the prison.

Xia Yunhe slowly clenched her fists inside her sleeves, then relaxed and bowed formally.

“Teacher.”

The one who had truly taught Xia Yunhe was not him. Duke Dingguo merely took advantage of his forty years as a chief examiner. Every successful candidate respectfully called him “teacher.”

“Yi Zhi, I heard you will teach the Seventh Prince about customs and traditions,” the duke sighed deeply. “The Seventh Prince has endured humiliation and hardship returning home; he may neglect some manners. You must understand His Majesty’s worries. The Crown Prince is young and sometimes speaks rashly. Please forgive him.”

Xia Yunhe bowed respectfully, repeatedly declining. After a brief exchange, the duke left, citing ill health.

She watched the sedan chair depart, sneering inwardly. This pretentious old fox had caused her death in Zhaoyi Prison and even urged the new emperor to display her head at the palace gates—a truly ruthless man.

Xia Yunhe looked up at the mottled palace walls. The courtyard was deep, snow piled on branches, small icicles hanging, sparkling like crystal. A cold wind suddenly rose; she shrank her neck but quickly gathered her resolve and hurried out of the palace.

She had more important matters to attend to.

Crossing Zhuque Long Street, passing Wulv Alley, she reached the lantern-lit wooden door at the alley’s end as dusk settled.

She knocked lightly. A woman in her forties, clad in simple clothes and a hairpin skirt, peeked out. Seeing Xia Yunhe, she smiled warmly and invited her inside.

“Ah, the young master is back. It snowed last night, and it’s cold today. I was just about to go fetch you, but you came home on your own.”

The woman led Xia Yunhe into a small courtyard. On the east side, a small patch of wintergreen grew, dusted with snow, the contrast of green and white adding life to the yard.

Lifting aside a heavy gray cloth curtain, the woman took Xia Yunhe inside, helped remove her cloak, loosened her clothes, took off her damp shoes and socks, then produced a blue cotton robe, a pair of felt socks, and cotton shoes. Her hands never stopped working, and her words were brisk.

“Madam sent a letter, along with many dried water caltrops. When will you reply? In a few days, I’ll go to the Western Market to buy mountain goods and can hand the letter to the courier at the post station.”

The woman was called Zhen Niang. Over ten years ago, Xia Yunhe’s mother had saved her, feeding her rice gruel to revive her from near death. She had lost her memory but remained simple-minded and was instructed to always call Xia Yunhe “young master,” a name she had called out all the way from her hometown in Jiangnan to Shangdu. Strong as seven or eight men alone, she cared for Xia Yunhe with meticulous devotion.

Xia Yunhe changed clothes and leaned against a large pillow. Zhen Niang pressed a warming stove into her hand, brought quilt and blankets to cover her chilled limbs, placed a hot water bottle beneath the covers, carried a small kang table with a dish of cooked water caltrops, and set the table beside the kang. She then retrieved a letter from under the pillow and handed it to Xia Yunhe.

The family letter was sealed with red wax, inscribed “To my son A Yun.”

Xia Yunhe held the letter, her emotions unsettled. Since her father’s death, her entry into the tribute academy, her journey to the capital for the imperial exams, and the growing estrangement from her mother, the last news she had of her mother came in Zhaoyi Prison, from Liu Rongshan, who told her that her mother had died in exile. Upon hearing this dreadful news, she had coughed blood and never regained consciousness.

She wondered how her mother’s health was now, whether she had enough to eat.

She slowly clenched the corner of her robe, sorrowful. Zhen Niang offered a peeled water caltrop to her lips, grinning, “Young master, eat quickly. It was sent from afar.”

Xia Yunhe noticed the small knife in her hand, the blade still smeared with fruit flesh, as carefree as a child. In her past life, when the Xia family was purged, the household was either exiled or sold off—none escaped.

Fortunately, she had a second chance at life.

She smiled and took the fruit, placing it in her mouth. The cooked water caltrops were sweet and soft, recalling childhood days in the Jiangnan water towns, peeling lotus pods and rowing beneath the lotus leaves. Her father was still alive then; he often took off his finger ring to compare with his own hands, while her mother peeled lotus pods and scolded him, the family all together and whole.

Zhen Niang offered another white water caltrop, but Xia Yunhe pushed it back gently, saying softly, “Zhen Niang, you eat it.”

Zhen Niang happily ate it, swallowing before asking, “Young master, who did you choose as your disciple today?”

“The Seventh Prince.”

“Good, good. Teaching any prince is a good thing. Will you attend court tomorrow?”

Xia Yunhe whispered, “It’s a rest day.” She instructed Zhen Niang to bring a small round wooden box, about the size of a palm, decorated with gold and black entwined floral patterns. Opening it revealed a neat black ebony ring.

The ring was carved with cloud patterns, and inside was an archaic seal script character for “Xia.”

Zhen Niang leaned in to inspect, clicking her tongue. “The master’s keepsake—” then suddenly realized she should not speak, quickly clearing her throat. “Young master, next year bring Madam to Shangdu; we can be reunited.”

Xia Yunhe smiled, took out the ring, and slipped it onto her finger.

Zhen Niang exclaimed, dropping the knife in surprise, “What are you doing? Take it off quickly!”

Xia Yunhe dodged her, her expression serious. “Zhen Niang, the Xia family’s ‘Night Watch’ hasn’t moved in ten years. Tomorrow when you go to the Western Market, tell Third Master the Xia family has arrived and to prepare.”

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