Chapter 50
As night fell on the eve of the New Year, the sky quickly became a dazzling display of colors. The brilliance wasn’t from fireworks but from countless colorful sky lanterns drifting across the heavens, giving the impression that celestial maidens were floating above, adding an ethereal beauty to the scene.
Despite the lively noises outside—sounds of celebration and firecrackers—reaching the confines of the Wangfu (Prince’s residence), the joyous atmosphere seemed to stop at its walls.
Hearing the commotion, Murong Qiufeng opened his eyes just as Youxiang entered, carrying something in her hands.
Glancing at the sky, Murong Qiufeng asked, “Is it time already?”
With a sigh, Youxiang nodded and handed him a pill—Zhui Gu Dan. If he took it now, it would be his second dose today. Since dawn, he had been involved in ancestral and deity rituals, exhausting himself. After a brief two-hour rest, he now had to prepare for the evening banquet.
“I really hope this is your last one,” Youxiang said, concern evident in her voice. “Frequent use will damage your muscles and bones. I’ve prepared a medicinal bath for you. You need to soak in it for seven days to avoid any long-term effects. Also, this is Jie Jiu Dan, a pill that will help you resist alcohol for two hours, but after that, don’t drink any more.”
Murong Qiufeng nodded, looking at the pill in his hand. A small smile formed on his lips, easing some of his fatigue. The warmth in his chest grew as he realized that only Shangguan Ye would have known about his aversion to alcohol and prepared this for him.
Reflecting on their recent cold war, Murong Qiufeng found that his resentment had evaporated, replaced by a warm, comforting feeling. That man—cold on the outside, but warm-hearted—had cared for him even during their disagreements.
“You should hurry and change,” Youxiang urged, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation. “If you’re late, Wangye might storm back here to fetch you.”
Ever since Murong Qiufeng had interceded on Youxiang’s behalf with Shangguan Ye, she had stopped hiding her true personality, embracing it fully. Although her straightforwardness occasionally put her at odds with others, Murong Qiufeng appreciated it. She reminded him of a carefree spirit, more like a heroine from the Jianghu than a typical noblewoman.
Shangguan Ye, despite his apparent indifference, couldn’t hide his concern for Murong Qiufeng. His mind was distracted as he interacted with the guests, his eyes frequently drifting toward the entrance.
“Haha, Wangye, after attending the Plum Blossom Festival for five years, I finally have the honor of meeting the famous Military God,” a middle-aged man said, raising his glass in a toast to Shangguan Ye.
Preoccupied with worry, Shangguan Ye barely acknowledged the man as he sipped his wine. “Minister Wu, you flatter me. The continued alliance between Yan and Zhao is due to your efforts.”
“Haha, it’s my duty, my duty. Establishing an alliance with Yan is a blessing for our country. Oh, by the way, this is our Seventh Princess. She insisted on coming to meet you after hearing that you would attend this year,” Minister Wu said, introducing a young woman who had been tugging at his sleeve impatiently.
As Shangguan Ye finally turned his attention to her, the young woman’s eyes lit up. She beamed with joy, unafraid of the crowd. “Hello, I’ve heard so much about you. You’re the person Xi’er admires most. I wish Wangye were the prince of Zhao. Xi’er likes you a lot—could I call you ‘Brother Ye’? I’ve always wanted a heroic brother.”
The girl’s playful and innocent demeanor was endearing, her beauty matching that of Yan’s number one beauty, Murong Qiuyun.
But Shangguan Ye felt a wave of irritation. He had never been particularly fond of women, seeing them only as either useful or not. The open admiration in the young princess’s eyes only deepened his annoyance.
However, he kept his composure, responding with a noncommittal, “Of course, having such a lovely sister is a blessing for any brother.”
The girl, oblivious to the hint of rejection in his tone, smiled even more brightly and boldly wrapped her arms around Shangguan Ye’s, playfully leaning on him. “Haha, that’s wonderful! Xi’er finally has a heroic brother. I can’t wait to show off to my other brothers.”
Shangguan Ye subtly frowned at her forwardness.
The middle-aged man, noticing but not disapproving of his daughter’s actions, gave them space to interact, using a pretext to leave.
Shangguan Ye had long been the heartthrob of most women in Lucheng. His heroic reputation naturally attracted admiration, but the myth of the “Military God” kept many at a respectful distance. After he married, any lingering regrets quickly faded.
However, rumors of his deep affection for the princess had caused more women to become infatuated with him, yearning for the same romantic attention.
As for Murong Qiuyun, she no longer held the same allure for them. Her once haughty nature led many to believe that Wangye’s affection was temporary, likely to fade with time, opening up opportunities for others.
But tonight, their hopes seemed dashed. This foreign princess was both stunning and assertive, causing much anxiety among the other women.
It seemed deliberate that few people approached Shangguan Ye as the princess monopolized his attention, allowing them to converse. Shangguan Ye, despite his irritation, responded politely, his mind clearly elsewhere, his gaze often drifting toward the entrance, worried about Murong Qiufeng’s wellbeing.
“Oh, Brother Ye, where is Sister Yun? Why hasn’t she arrived yet? I heard she’s unwell. I’ve brought some medicines with me, and I’ve secretly saved some for her,” the princess asked, her voice filled with concern.
