Before officially starting duty at the Seventh Prince's residence, I first went to Prince Chun's mansion. Although I couldn't follow Twelfth Master, I traveled with the entourage and could still meet him when stopping to rest or stay at post stations.
With only two days left before departure, Dingyi was brimming with joy. Approaching the gatekeeper, she greeted him and asked, "Is His Highness in?"
The gatekeeper replied, "He is! These past two days he's been busy preparing for the long journey!" Glancing at her, he lowered his voice to inquire, "Didn't the Seventh Prince ask you to inspect their cellar the other day? Did you go? Where are you working now?"
She smiled, "I went, but not for the cellar—I joined the guards. Today's my first day, so I came to pay respects to His Highness first. Last time he mentioned liking mulberries, so I prepared some fresh ones for him."
The gatekeeper chuckled, "You're playing both sides, aren't you? One hand here, the other there." Slapping his thigh, he said, "Alright, I'll send someone to announce you... Though it's amusing—His Highness is grown, yet still eats mulberries..."
Can't adults enjoy them too? Even grown-ups crave simple pleasures, though they might not show it openly. In grand mansions like these, there's no shortage of delicacies like honeyed melons or lychees, but mulberries would be rare. Just as one might tire of exotic delicacies and crave pickled eggplants, the simplest things can feel most refreshing.
The messenger returned quickly, waving, "His Highness summons you. Follow me."
Thanking him, Dingyi hurried inside.
The mansion was vast, with gardens occupying the other half. This time, the prince was in the second courtyard, just past two moon gates. Since the residence had no Princess Consort, the entire household revolved around the prince's preferences. Like the previous dynasty, Great Britain revered Tibetan Buddhism, so even administrative areas housed prayer wheels. Passing one such tower, Dingyi looked up at the brass-cast cylinders engraved with mysterious scripts. Open on all sides, it enshrined a white Tara, serene and sublime in her divine form.
"White Tara delivers from eight calamities—she's an incarnation of Avalokitesvara," a voice behind her explained gently. "Devoted practice in her dharma can also nurture wisdom."
Dingyi recalled her parents once enshrined a similar statue, though theirs was green. Taras manifest in five colors from Avalokiteshvara, each with distinct roles. Turning with a smile, she said, "My master says I lack wit. Maybe I should invite one home too—perhaps worshipping her will make me sharper."
The prince stood in the dawn light, dressed in willow-green casual robes cinched with a jade belt, radiant as morning clouds. His frequent smiles were warm rather than ostentatious. Dingyi paused briefly before sweeping her sleeve in salute. Tilting her head, she teased, "You came out to greet me? How embarrassing!" Chuckling, she lifted the basket. "Picked these mulberries last evening—well-rinsed after chilling in well water overnight. Try them later; no need for osmanthus honey—they're perfectly sweet, nothing like what you ate as a child."Hongce hadn't expected him to take the matter to heart. He had merely mentioned it in passing—childhood memories were more about nostalgia than actually craving the taste. But since it had been brought to him, he couldn't refuse the kindness. Eunuchs bustled about the courtyard, busy organizing the stationery and documents he needed to bring along. He had stepped out to escape the commotion and now pointed north, saying, "Let's go to the pavilion. It's quieter there."
Dingyi acknowledged with a respectful "Yes," following behind as he led the way. The sun had just risen, its light still weak, a pale disc hanging against the bluish-gray sky, its rays soft and gentle. The shadow of the Twelfth Master slanted across, just grazing the hem of her robe. She glanced down at the shifting outline and the locks of hair lifted by the breeze, feeling a sense of tranquil contentment.
The Prince's garden was a labyrinth of winding paths. Following the stone-paved walkway, the eaves of a structure peeked through the dense bamboo leaves. A little further, and it became clear—a delicate pavilion stood there, its plaque reading "Cool Breeze Bears Tidings." Deep within the bamboo grove was a hidden paradise, a scenery unlike the dusty streets she had passed through. Outside, the summer heat was oppressive, the cicadas' shrill cries parching one's throat. But here, a refreshing coolness enveloped the air, making it a sanctuary where even summer rashes wouldn't dare appear.
Thinking of rashes, she rubbed her back with a hand. The Prince took a seat at the stone table, and she quickly retrieved the bowls from the basket. Poor households couldn't afford fine porcelain for food—just thick, blue-rimmed bowls. Without lids, what could be done? A larger bowl inverted over a smaller one would have to suffice.
She smiled apologetically. "Please don't mind the humble presentation. We can't afford jade lotus trays, so we've made do with our everyday bowls." Standing to the side, she offered them forward. "If you like them, have a few more. If they don't suit your taste, it's no loss to toss them—they were picked by our own hands, after all."
There was an honest simplicity to this child, a rustic sincerity. Hongce glanced at the bowls—the mulberries were perfectly ripe, plump and large, each seed full. They were nothing like the small, reddish ones he used to scavenge from his elder brother's leftovers during his early studies.
The Prince, refined in appearance, ate with equal elegance—unhurried, unlike Xiazhi, who could bury his head in a bowl of rice the moment it was set before him. Dingyi watched him intently, mesmerized by his jade-white fingertips moving gracefully among the deep purple fruit. Just observing was a delight. When his lips pursed slightly, she tensed, scrutinizing his expression before asking anxiously, "Your Highness, how do you find the taste?"
The Prince smiled slowly, his lips stained crimson with mulberry juice, like a maiden's rouge. "It's good," he said. "Truly different from what I had as a child. No wonder they fought so fiercely over a single tree back then. I used to think, 'Is it really worth the struggle?' But now I see—I simply hadn't tasted its true goodness."
"Then have some more." Dingyi picked out the plumpest one, pinching its stem to place it at the edge of the bowl. "Try this one—it's even better."They were born into the imperial family, where every meal had its rules, and restraint was expected—whether in the palace or after establishing their own residences. Outsiders wouldn’t know this. For someone like Xiaoshu, eating when hungry and sleeping when tired came naturally, but it was different for him. He still remembered as a child during a palace festival, when he indulged in an extra piece of jujube cake, his mother sent a governess to reprimand him. From dusk till night, a full two-hour lecture—enough to remember for a lifetime.
He shook his head and pushed the bowl away.
Dingyi looked at the bowl of fruit with a sense of melancholy. The Prince had a small appetite. If it were her, she’d have finished it in the time it took a stick of incense to burn. But if he wouldn’t eat, so be it. As she tidied up, she said, "I came today to report something to you, Your Highness. Yesterday, at Fengya Residence, I picked out a bird for Seventh Lord. He was so pleased that he agreed to let me join the guards. Earlier, when I refused to move flower pots, it wasn’t because I feared hardship—I had my own plans. I’ve mentioned to you before that I intended to return to serve my master. But since Seventh Lord has given me this opportunity, I don’t want to waste it. I’ve already informed my master, and he supports me. Soon, I’ll report to Prince Xian’s Residence."
Hongce was surprised. "The guards at Prince Xian’s Residence aren’t easy to manage. With your skills, do you think you can hold your own there?"
This wasn’t exactly something to boast about. Dingyi replied sheepishly, "Well, not as a guard, exactly—just a nominal position in the guards’ office. Seventh Lord is taking two birds north, and I’ll be responsible for looking after them."
So that was it. Such an absurd idea could only come from Hongtao. Taking birds into such bitter cold—if they froze to death, who would be to blame?
His fingers curled loosely as he said slowly, "The further north you go, the colder it gets—cold enough to freeze water in an instant. Can you guarantee Seventh Lord’s treasures will remain unharmed? If anything goes wrong and he demands punishment, you’ll be under his authority. I won’t even have room to plead for you."
Dingyi felt that, having come this far, there was no turning back. Changbai Mountain was within reach—just a stretch away. At this point, neither mountains of blades nor seas of fire could stop her. Her journey had always been one step at a time, and how long she lived was fated anyway. If she died, perhaps it would even be a release.
She smiled. "I just wanted to travel with you and see the world. I didn’t think too much about the rest."
He frowned slightly. "If you were so determined to go, you could have just told me directly. Why go through all this trouble?"
Dingyi muttered under her breath, "I didn’t want to shamelessly impose. I asked you several times, and you always refused. I had to find my own way." She sidled up to the Prince. He didn’t seem pleased—the golden rings in his eyes flickered faintly, hard to discern. Scratching her head, she said, "Don’t worry, I’ll manage. If it’s too cold, I’ll keep them covered so they don’t get exposed. Such tiny things—if I keep them warm, they won’t freeze to death."
Well, there were always solutions, and regret now was pointless. But... something felt off. He had saved her twice, yet every time he saw her, trouble seemed to follow. Now it had become a habit—always preparing to clean up after her. What kind of affliction was this? He glanced at her again—her face full of ingratiating smiles, blinking those large eyes, pupils dark and bright like the deer kept in his menagerie.
Hongce exhaled deeply and averted his gaze. "What do you think of the scenery here?""Wonderful, you don’t see such vast bamboo groves in the city. You’ve raised these bamboos so well." She raised her hand and pointed into the distance. "It would be even better to build a house over there—no gable walls, just an octagonal pavilion with a pointed roof, bright red pillars, and green glazed tiles, with golden silk curtains hanging on all eight sides. If you lived there at night, you could hear insects chirping right beside you—now that would be true leisure!"
He considered it seriously. "I wouldn’t hear the insects, but I could certainly feed the mosquitoes."
Dingyi froze, realizing she had forgotten this detail. Had she accidentally touched a sore spot? Flustered, she said, "I spoke without thinking, just blurted it out..."
He didn’t mind. Many people often forgot, and if he took everything to heart, life would be unbearable. He stood up, clasped his hands behind his back, and gazed in the direction she had pointed, murmuring, "I once had that idea—to build a pavilion and bring my mother here to spend summers in comfort. But it never came to pass. Noble Consorts have their own imperial retreats for their twilight years, so my efforts would have been redundant."
Every family has its troubles, even the imperial household. In the past, when an old emperor passed away, concubines with sons would move to their sons’ residences, while those without children were settled in separate gardens. But now, with the Emperor Emeritus still alive after abdicating, the old customs couldn’t be followed—it would be unseemly for the court to scatter while he still lived.
Dingyi tried to console him. "It doesn’t matter. You can still visit the Noble Consort when you pay your respects—it’s just a bit more effort, making frequent trips there. I can’t compare to you; my parents are gone, and when I miss them, all I can do is sit in the yard and look at the stars."
His gaze drifted quietly over her face. She had lost both parents, and in comparison, his situation wasn’t much better. "The palace follows the tradition of raising children apart. Princes are taken away by wet nurses at birth and raised by foster mothers. They only see their birth mothers during festivals or her birthday. The bond is distant—like sharing a meal, and if you do something wrong, a single cough from her makes you put down your chopsticks and stand to be scolded."
The more Dingyi listened, the more she felt for him. "Then why did you still want to bring her here? Were you and your foster mother not close?"
He shook his head again. "My foster mother had her own princess to care for, so she kept me at arm’s length. The lack in childhood makes you yearn to make up for it as an adult, but sometimes the chance never comes. Maybe I was just born without strong family ties."
He turned away, signaling the end of the conversation. Speaking too much to someone he’d only met a few times made him feel exposed, as if he’d revealed too much.
Dingyi had also lived within noble households. In her memories, she was closer to her wet nurses and nannies, while her birth mother was only addressed as "Madam." She understood this kind of regret.
"Do you believe in fate, Prince?" She licked her lips awkwardly, her eyes lingering on his sleeves. "I can read palms. A shallow bond with parents is in the past—it doesn’t matter. You still have your own life ahead! If you trust me, I could... read your romantic future?"
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