The Perilous Palace Dream - Chapter 121
Chapter 121
Third Master Pan had long been accustomed to acting like a domineering tyrant in his own little domain.
Blinded by lust at this moment, how could he possibly discern the deep, underlying meaning in the words of the woman before him? Narrowing his eyes, he sized her up from head to toe and said, “I must ask this young lady to report her name! Once I have married this bride, I shall pay a formal visit to your family’s house.”
Nie Qinglin looked at her grand-nephew and let out another soft sigh.
“That won’t be necessary. I shall go and meet your parents myself…”
With a wave of her hand, Lu Yuda and the others pounced forward like tigers charging down a mountain.
With a single rough pull, they yanked Third Master Pan straight off his mount and slammed him to the ground.
Stepping firmly on his face, they tied him up securely.
When the servants of the Pan Residence saw their young master bound so tightly, how could they stand by and watch? They swarmed forward like a hive of bees, only to be beaten into a utter defeat, weeping and howling on the ground.
Nanny Shan kicked aside a servant who lay groaning on the dirt, stepped forward with large strides, lifted the sedan’s curtain, and peered inside: these delicate features and graceful posture belonged unmistakably to Princess Shaoyang!
When Pan Zhengdao, the head of the Pan household, heard the news that his son had been captured by unknown persons and thrown into the local government prison, he was utterly shocked.
Although the master of the Pan family was not as arrogant and reckless as his son, the fact that he had pampered his child into such a lawless brute proved he was no visionary himself.
Being far removed from the imperial court, they were entirely ignorant of the intricate power struggles happening within the palace, and naturally knew nothing of the many hardships faced by their imperial cousin, the Emperor.
Having flaunted their title as imperial relatives in Lin’an for years, they had never once encountered such a humiliation.
Though annoyed by his son’s ridiculous absurdity—thinking that buying a concubine with a bit of silver should have sufficed without making such an embarrassing scene—he was even more infuriated at the Lin’an magistrate’s office for being so blind and failing to show respect to the Pan family.
According to the housekeeper who had accompanied the wedding procession, the young master had been beaten brutally; not only was his face swollen high, but several of his teeth had been knocked out.
However, before Pan Zhengdao could dispatch men to bribe the government officials, a formal visiting card was delivered directly to the residence.
The housekeeper, who was currently dabbing at his own bloody injuries, said, “Master, I recognized the lad who delivered this visiting card at the gatehouse just now—he belongs to the very gang that seized our young master! They have actually come to provoke us at our doorstep! Once we see the address of their residence, I will take some men and go teach them a lesson!”
Yet, Pan Zhengdao’s eyes slowly widened in astonishment: the visiting card was crafted from plain tribute brocade as its base, embossed with delicate patterns, and printed on paper sprinkled with real gold powder… The Pan family had previously run restaurants and now operated money brokerages; though they held no official academic rank, they had always dealt with high-ranking officials and nobles.
A card of this caliber was clearly an exclusive supply from the Inner Imperial Palace!
Alarm bells began to ring in his heart.
When he opened the invitation, he saw a line of uniquely elegant handwriting, politely inviting his family’s cousin to come to the royal family’s villa in Jiangnan two days later at noon for a gathering.
Hands trembling, Pan Zhengdao slowly closed the invitation.
He felt a sudden layer of cold, prickly sweat break out on his forehead; a sudden, terrible intuition told him that his son had likely brought down the very heavens upon their heads.
The housekeeper, still oblivious, leaned in to stoke the flames,”Master, should we ask Escort Master Zhou from the armed escort agency to bring some men along?”
Pan Zhengdao was so enraged that he raised his foot and kicked the housekeeper directly to the ground.
“He took the young master and brought disaster right upon the royal family’s head! Are you planning to take men along to throw yourselves into death’s door as well?”
It goes without saying that the head of the Pan family could not swallow a bite of food for the next few days.
Nie Qinglin, too, found herself facing a chaotic tangle of affairs that needed sorting out.
Since she had personally come to Jiangnan, the conduct and discipline of the Pan family naturally had to be thoroughly straightened out to prevent them from acting so brazenly.
If someone with ulterior motives were to make an issue of this in the future, would it not bring a catastrophic ruin upon the entire clan?
However, there was an even more urgent matter: the situation regarding her Eighth Imperial Sister.
When they rescued the panicked Eighth Imperial Sister from the sedan chair, the frightened princess had reached out and scratched the face of Lu Yuda, who was untying her ropes.
For some unknown reason, this woman—who was unmistakably Princess Shaoyang—no longer recognized these former acquaintances from the palace.
Even when Nie Qinglin softly called out “Sister” with a trembling voice, the woman maintained a face full of fear and confusion.
Nie Qinglin immediately ordered her men to inquire into the woman’s background. When they questioned Boss Lin of the pharmacy, who had been beaten by the Pan family’s wicked bullies to the point of being bedridden, the owner saw that old acquaintances had come seeking information.
Only then did he reveal the truth with tears in his eyes.
It turned out he was originally a native of a northern border town.
More than ten years ago, his young daughter had drowned in the Daxi River in Northern Mobei.
Later, he relocated and settled in Jiangnan, returning to his hometown every few years to purchase local specialty herbs and to offer sacrifices by the river for his deceased daughter.
Unexpectedly, when he went to the riverbank this year, he accidentally saved a young girl.
At the time, she was floating in the river embracing a piece of driftwood, her forehead severely bruised, weak and dying, on the verge of sinking to the bottom.
Boss Lin immediately rescued the girl, feeling a deep, natural bond with her.
The young girl, perhaps due to her head injury, could not remember a single thing from her past.
To Boss Lin, this felt like the River God revealing his divine power—returning a daughter to him in reward for his decades of dispensing medicine and performing good deeds.
Thus, Boss Lin adopted her as his daughter, called her Qingniang after his deceased child’s nickname, and brought her back to Jiangnan.
Unexpectedly, even though her head was wrapped in plain blue cloth and her skirt was made of coarse fabric, it could not hide Qingniang’s innate, striking beauty.
Because business had been difficult over the past two years and the pharmacy was short-handed, Qingniang helped out in the shop, where she was spotted at first glance by that wicked young bully named Pan.
He harassed her endlessly in a hundred different ways, and ultimately resorted to forcing her into marriage…
After hearing Boss Lin explain the entire origin and course of events, Nie Qinglin became all the more certain that this was indeed her imperial sister who had survived a narrow escape from death.
Holding her tightly, she shed another flood of tears.
Although Princess Shaoyang did not recognize her younger sister, due to their shared bloodline, looking at this exquisite, jade-like beauty gave her a feeling of warm familiarity.
But when she saw little Jiarou lying in the cradle blowing bubbles, she became somewhat panicked.
“This… is this my child? Then… who is my husband?”
Nie Qinglin thought back to her imperial sister’s bizarre and tragic marriage process.
Fearing that saying too much would trigger the lingering injuries to her head, she answered vaguely that he was not in this location, passing over the subject briefly.
Princess Shaoyang had suffered much hardship during this ordeal and had grown quite thin.
Nie Qinglin devoted herself entirely to worrying over her sister’s food, clothing, and daily necessities, ensuring everything was of the utmost delicacy, wishing she could make Shaoyang’s emaciated cheeks grow round and full again in a single breath.
Whenever she found a moment of spare time, Nie Qinglin held her writing brush for a long while, and finally wrote a letter to the Grand Tutor.
Although she knew in her heart that the Grand Tutor was currently enjoying his honeymoon, and that if she were sensible she should avoid disturbing him, the discovery of her Eighth Imperial Sister was something she could not hide on her own strength alone; it would reach the Grand Tutor’s ears sooner or later.
Since the rest of the world believed that Great Wei’s Princess Shaoyang had already passed away, let this royal woman—who had suffered every bitterness in the first half of her life—live out the remainder of her days in peace and stability.
She only hoped that the Lord Grand Tutor would raise his merciful hand and remove this insignificant woman from his chessboard.
Every single sentence in the letter was meticulously weighed and crafted.
Nie Qinglin felt a faint trace of regret over the embroidery she had gifted him when leaving the capital.
No wonder the old saying went: Never burn your bridges on the road of human relationships.
When she had fled to Jiangnan back then, she had made up her mind never to return to the capital.
She never anticipated that a time would come when she would have to ask a favor of the Grand Tutor again.
Given that man’s petty, vengeful nature, how on earth should she humble herself and act subservient in her choice of words?
After sending the letter, it was like throwing a stone into the ocean—complete silence without a single response.
As another month passed and Nie Qinglin saw no reply, her mind gradually settled at ease.
With the rise of the Wei clan, the two princesses of the Nie family had ultimately suffered a drop in their worth.
Even if someone wanted to use them as chess pieces, they would first have to weigh their importance; both she and her sister were simply not qualified enough.
In the blink of an eye, the Lantern Festival season arrived once more.
The customs of Jiangnan differed from those of the North: one had to enjoy the lanterns by night and appreciate the “Flowers” by day.
These “Flowers” were not the climbing vines clinging to garden walls, but rather referred to the “courtesans of supreme beauty.”
When Lantern Festival arrived, the decorated courtesan floats from all the brothels in the entire city were dispatched.
Various charming “female generals” of the dusty world stood upon newly decorated floats, parading gracefully through the streets and alleys of Lin’an.
However, what moved the hearts of the Jiangnan noblewomen the most was the swaying presence of the “Male Flowers.”
The various academies in the region would nominate talented scholars to ascend the number one tower in Jiangnan—the Fanmo Tower—to compose poetry and open the proceedings.
Once the top three were selected, they would descend the tower to accept floral tributes from the top courtesans.
The romantic tension between the scholars and the beauties during this event was enough to fill the publishing schedules of print shops across Great Wei for an entire year.
It was said that most of the scholars from the academies this year possessed both exceptional talent and striking looks, each displaying an intensely charming and elegant demeanor.
Nie Qinglin was unwilling to miss such a grand spectacle of admiring “male beauty.”
She had long reserved a spot in Fanmo Tower to personally watch the scholars wield their brushes and spill their ink.
It was said that even a seat far removed from the ink stage commanded a price of a hundred taels of silver.
However, after the princess confirmed with Nanny Shan that the money being spent came from the Grand Tutor’s private treasury, she felt no restraint whatsoever and reserved a private box in one single breath.
On the day of the Lantern Festival, Nie Qinglin and her sister were impeccably dressed and groomed.
The silk skirts she chose for herself and her sister today carried a special meaning: one in green and one in white, echoing the symbolism of the two snake immortals of Leifeng Pagoda.
Her sister dressed as Lady White, while she played the role of Little Green, intending to forget the dogmas and mundane rules of the mortal world, pretending to be ignorant spirits of nature who cared for nothing but pleasure.
After applying their rouge, neatly styling their hair at the temples, and affixing floral ornaments, the two sisters linked arms, boarded their carriage, and headed straight for Fanmo Tower.
While other tall buildings elsewhere were overflowing with crowds, this place remained relatively open and airy; although there were many guests, it was not congested.
This was because Fanmo Tower occupied prime terrain, allowing one to watch the colorful parade floats pass along the main street without ever leaving the building.
Moreover, due to its exorbitant prices, ordinary wealthy households in Jiangnan could not afford to ascend it.
Furthermore, those who reserved seats in Fanmo Tower were almost exclusively wealthy families with marriageable daughters at home.
One had to understand that whoever claimed the top spot in Fanmo Tower each year was always a person of extraordinary literary talent—talented men poised to win scholarly honors and official titles.
Jiangnan was home to numerous merchant families who lacked no silver, but craved official rank.
If a daughter were to marry a scholar with such boundless prospects, even if his family were poor, the parents would be entirely willing.
Thus, countless romantic tales were brought to fruition atop Fanmo Tower every year.
The academy scholars were well aware of this, and those from impoverished backgrounds came to Fanmo Tower specifically hoping to make a name for themselves and win the heart of a beauty in one fell swoop.
This kind of novel and intensely refined matchmaking ritual carried a rich Jiangnan flair.
However, this year, when the scholars clad in plain white robes stepped onto the elevated ink stage of Fanmo Tower under the guidance of their masters, every one of them felt their breath catch.
As the young men casually swept their gazes toward the nearby viewing seats, their eyes collectively settled upon two young women inside one of the private boxes.
Which official’s residence did these two ladies belong to? The lady dressed in a plain white skirt kept her eyes lowered in an air of quiet, elegant refinement; before they could fully savor the charm of her features, their eyes swept to the woman beside her in green.
Quite different from the previous lady’s understated elegance, the features of this young woman possessed a coquettish, enchanting beauty that no brush or ink could ever capture.
Though young in age, her entire body exuded an indescribable, noble aura.
When her dark, naturally bold eyes swept over them, they felt as if their hearts were being washed by the gentle spring waters of March, unable to gather their thoughts back together again…
Seeing the group of scholars ascend the high stage with dazed, lost expressions, the lady in green could not help but unfold the gold-painted rib fan in her hand to cover her small mouth, whispering into the ear of the lady in white.
No one knew what she said, but it brought them both to laugh together in delight.
Finding themselves teased by the beauties, the scholars—urged on by the old masters—finally collected their minds, flushed red, and sat down one after another behind the writing desks set upon the floor, preparing to listen to the prompt and spill their ink.
Little did they know, the beauties were not teasing them for their foolish infatuation.
In the past, Nie Qinglin was accustomed to seeing civil and military officials of all ages at court: old ones who were decrepit like Wu Jinglin, or middle-aged men who had put on weight with receding hairlines.
On the rare occasion there were a few young ones, the Grand Tutor’s soaring, monstrous arrogance made them appear utterly mediocre by comparison.
Today, however, a group of young men with soft fuzz on their faces and bright, glowing complexions gathered together in one hall—a truly grand spectacle.
Jiangnan produced many beauties, and its handsome men were by no means inferior; they dazzled the princess’s autumn-water eyes, prompting her to inwardly remark once more: Jiangnan! Splendid indeed!
Covering her mouth and nose with her fan, she excitedly pulled her sister and said in a low voice, “To think every single one of them is so outstanding—they are truly even more handsome and refined than the famous opera stars in the capital!”
Princess Shaoyang, suffering from amnesia, could not remember her past experiences of watching plays as she listened to Nie Qinglin.
Although she felt it was quite improper for women to evaluate a group of men in this manner, having forgotten her royal background had rendered her temperament much more lively.
Love for beauty was universal—how could it be divided by gender? Swept along by Nie Qinglin’s enthusiasm, she even summoned the courage to size up each handsome, scholarly youth on the high stage, until her own cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.
Even Nanny Shan had a face full of smiles, her eyes glued without blinking to the fresh, vibrant young men on the high stage.
This drew a glare of inner complaint from Lu Yuda, who sat behind them: What a decadent, corrupt place! As a man, to be handsome one should be like the Marquis of Dingguo; to be strong, one should be like Lu Yuda himself! Each of these weak, frail white-cut chickens—if thrown onto the parade float just now—could directly play the role of a woman! What on earth is so good-looking about them?
Just at that moment, the Eighth Princess suddenly said softly to Nie Qinglin, “Look quickly, that young man wearing the jade crown has been staring straight at you, sister!”
Nie Qinglin looked over in the direction her sister indicated.
Sure enough, among the figures on the high stage, a tall and slender youth sat with a straight back before his writing desk, a pair of phoenix eyes gazing directly at Nie Qinglin.
Looking into those eyes, Nie Qinglin’s heart gave a sudden thump, and her breath caught in her throat.
By the time she snapped back to her senses, she understood why: that youth’s brow and eyes bore a subtle, haunting resemblance to that man.
For several months now, he had not entered her dreams.
Yet, brought on by a mere glance from a resembling youth, she realized it was not that he was gone—it was simply that the pain he had inflicted had long since etched itself into the very marrow of her bones, forever beyond cure.
