Chapter 9: Affectionate Displays of Love

The room in the Guest House had been tidied, not lavish but quietly refined: ink-wash paintings of landscapes adorned the walls, blue and white porcelain ornaments were neatly arranged on the circular display stands, scholarly treasures were laid out in perfect order upon the desk, and a sheet of pear blossom paper rested at the center, as if awaiting the touch of an artist. Summer Nine Ginger glanced around, chuckling to herself; to return to the Summer household as the Princess Consort of the Brocade Prince, only to be lodged in a guest wing—she had not expected it. Yet this room was already much finer than her old quarters, Easy Residence, which lived up to its name in a painfully literal sense: the place was simple to the point of neglect, a rundown courtyard abandoned for years, forgotten by all.

While Summer Nine Ginger was lost in thought, Jun Bu Wen spoke, “You Hua is a woman from Night Kill’s shadow division. She’ll stay by your side to protect you. Right now, you only have Green Vine with you—if anything happens, even her safety would be at risk.”

Summer Nine Ginger returned to herself, nodded, and smiled, “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Jun Bu Wen turned to You Hua, “From now on, you’ll serve Summer Nine Ginger. She is your mistress.”

You Hua saluted with a fist, “Understood.”

Summer Nine Ginger studied You Hua: dressed in fitted attire, narrow-sleeved dark tunic, leather boots, her hair simply twisted into a bun secured with a jade hairpin, practical and sharp. Summer Nine Ginger knew well that You Hua was here to keep an eye on her, but since Jun Bu Wen had assigned her, he clearly did not want You Hua’s true identity exposed, and had instructed her to obey Summer Nine Ginger. She needed more hands around her anyway.

At that moment, footsteps sounded outside. Looking up, Summer Chan appeared alone at the door, carrying a plate of delicately crafted pastries. The maid originally meant to deliver them had been sent away by Summer Chan—this was a rare chance to approach Jun Bu Wen.

With a sweet, coy voice, Summer Chan said, “Your Highness, my father instructed me to bring the osmanthus cakes from the Lucky Pavilion for you to sample.”

Summer Nine Ginger sat calmly by the round nanmu table, holding her teacup and sipping the tea prepared by the Summer household. She shot Summer Chan a glance—so eager that she couldn’t even wait for nightfall—shamelessly fawning already.

You Hua glanced at Summer Nine Ginger: someone was currying favor with the Brocade Prince, yet Summer Nine Ginger remained unmoved? Night Kill had told her this Summer Nine Ginger was strange and fond of ingratiating herself with the Prince, but reality seemed quite different.

Green Vine stepped forward and said to Summer Chan, “Third Miss, allow me.”

Summer Chan glared at Green Vine, “Your mistress hasn’t spoken—who are you to speak here?”

Green Vine withdrew, aggrieved; she had only meant to help, yet was scolded. This was Summer Chan’s opportunity to get close to the Brocade Prince—she hadn’t brought even her own maid, so how could she let Green Vine intervene?

As Summer Chan stepped inside, Summer Nine Ginger flicked her fingers, sending a force directly at Summer Chan’s knee. Summer Chan cried out in pain and pitched forward.

You Hua’s eyes brightened at Summer Nine Ginger’s move. She had thought Summer Nine Ginger was nothing but a dullard, ignoring her own maid being bullied, and had felt a bit of contempt. But seeing this skillful action, You Hua’s opinion shifted.

Originally, Summer Chan had wanted to fall into Jun Bu Wen’s arms, but for some reason her knee buckled unexpectedly and she truly collapsed. Her heart raced as she anticipated landing on the Prince, her lips curling in a bashful, coquettish smile, hoping to be caught. But—

Jun Bu Wen, expressionless, stepped back, and Summer Chan fell face-first to the ground. How could this be? Wasn’t she supposed to land in his embrace?

She looked up to find the pastries she had meant to drop with her somehow ended up in Jun Bu Wen’s hand.

With tears in her eyes, Summer Chan pleaded, “Your Highness, I twisted my ankle. Could you help me up?”

The Brocade Prince cast her a scornful glance, “Filthy.”

The contempt in his tone betrayed an almost obsessive cleanliness.

Filthy! Surely the Prince knew how to show tender regard for women—why would he say such a thing? Where was Summer Chan dirty, except for being a bit disheveled after her fall? Summer Chan reassured herself it was only his love of cleanliness, not a slight against her.

Summer Chan gritted her teeth, watching Summer Nine Ginger’s composed demeanor—her elder sister showed no concern at all, not even a word for her younger sibling’s misfortune, just sipped tea as if nothing had happened.

Softly, Summer Chan said, “Sister, you see the Prince isn’t tender at all. I’ve twisted my ankle, and you won’t even say a word…”

Her words held no reproach, only a plaintive, girlish tone, as though begging her sister for sympathy.

Summer Nine Ginger smiled, “When my own maid was being scolded by you, I didn’t see you asking me to speak. Now that you’ve fallen, you want me to say something? What should I say? That your powder’s too thick, or your hips too swayed?”

Summer Nine Ginger’s words darkened Summer Chan’s face in an instant. Comparing her with a maid? She was the third Miss of the Summer household—how could she be likened to Green Vine? And to say her powder was thick? She had dressed up especially for the Brocade Prince, and the swayed hips were meant to attract his attention, yet in Summer Nine Ginger’s mouth it sounded utterly cheap.

Jun Bu Wen ignored Summer Chan sprawled on the floor, placing the pastries on the table.

Summer Nine Ginger gazed at the exquisite osmanthus cakes and broke into a sly smile. She turned to Jun Bu Wen, “Your Highness, I want to eat the osmanthus cakes.”

The moment Summer Nine Ginger called out “Your Highness,” Jun Bu Wen knew the little minx was up to mischief again, even using the formal “I, your consort.” She was always irreverent with him, never even addressing him properly by title.

Summer Nine Ginger rested her chin on her hand and uttered a soft “Ah,” clearly expecting Jun Bu Wen to feed her. He paused for a few seconds.

She shot him a meaningful look: affection! Affection! Wasn’t that what they were supposed to show?

In the past, Jun Bu Wen would never have played along, but for some reason, he found himself, almost against his will, picking up a piece of osmanthus cake and offering it to Summer Nine Ginger.

She took a bite, “Delicious.”

In front of Summer Chan, Summer Nine Ginger and Jun Bu Wen openly flaunted their affection, while Summer Chan lay on the floor, forced to watch and swallow the bitter sight. Anger burned within her.

The Brocade Prince had called her “filthy” and refused to help, yet turned around and fed Summer Nine Ginger with his own hands.

Eyes red, Summer Chan clenched her embroidered handkerchief, “You… you’re bullying me…” With that, her ankle miraculously healed, and she ran from Summer Nine Ginger and Jun Bu Wen’s room.

You Hua was stunned—when had the Prince ever indulged in such mischief? To play along with Summer Nine Ginger’s act and drive Summer Chan to tears?

You Hua suddenly felt that the Prince and Princess Consort together were terrifying; if humiliation had a name, this was it.