Chapter Eighteen: A Rendezvous at Dusk

The next morning, Mingchu woke up early on her own, without needing her nanny to call her. Duofu was still curled up at the foot of her bed, sleeping soundly. Mingchu threw on her robe and ran to Yuewu’s room.

“Yuewu! Yuewu!”

Yuewu had just gotten up as well; he was sitting on the bed, dressed only in white undergarments, his upper body bare.

Mingchu burst in unexpectedly, and for a moment, the two just stared at each other in shock.

Yuewu recovered first and hastily pulled the quilt over himself, turning his head away as a rosy blush slowly crept across his cheeks.

Mingchu let out a shriek and covered her eyes, mortified and at a loss. She stammered, “I… I was afraid you’d be gone, so…”

“Miss, please step outside while I get dressed,” Yuewu said, clearing his throat and clutching the quilt tightly.

A ray of sunlight filtered through the green gauze window, falling across Yuewu’s face. His eyelids drooped slightly, casting a small shadow with his long lashes.

His face was tinged with pink, unable to hide his shyness.

Mingchu couldn’t help but peek through her fingers.

“Miss, why haven’t you left yet?”

“Huh?” Mingchu snapped out of her daze, rushed out of the room, and berated herself inwardly—how could she have been so entranced by Yuewu?

She dashed back to her own room, splashed her face with cold water in an attempt to calm herself, but the scene kept replaying in her mind.

Yuewu, sitting on the bed, skin as fair as porcelain.

She scooped up Duofu, hugging him close, her cheeks burning. Duofu only blinked at her in confusion, still half asleep.

After breakfast around the hour of the dragon, she went to her zither lessons at noon. She called for Yuewu to accompany her as she went to find Lord Jiang.

Lord Jiang was practicing swordplay in the courtyard, with fallen petals swirling in the air like rain. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Mingchu and Yuewu approaching.

With a swift turn of his sword, he lunged at Yuewu, who was by Mingchu’s side.

“Father!” Mingchu cried out in alarm.

Yuewu gently pushed Mingchu aside, dodged the sword, and quickly picked up a soft branch to meet the blade.

Lord Jiang’s moves were fierce, but Yuewu always evaded them with agility. He wielded the branch, entangling Lord Jiang’s sword several times, staving off his lethal strikes.

Petals flew through the air as Lord Jiang’s sword pointed at Yuewu’s throat, while Yuewu’s branch was only an inch from Lord Jiang’s chest.

Yuewu clasped his fists in salute. “Yuewu concedes.”

Lord Jiang patted his shoulder with a hearty laugh, “If you were holding a real sword, who knows who would have won?”

Yuewu tossed aside the branch. “I was too forward!”

“Father,” Mingchu stepped forward and bowed. Lord Jiang smiled at her and said, “I’m very fond of Yuewu and would like to keep him by my side. What do you think, my child?”

“Absolutely not,” Mingchu declared firmly.

“Oh?”

“Have you forgotten, Father? Five years ago, you already gave Yuewu to me. That means he can only ever be mine.”

“You must understand, things are different now,” Lord Jiang said earnestly. “I’ve often told you I could give you another maid or two, but you always brush it off. Now you’re the apple of my eye, and I must think of your future in all things. You are nearly a grown woman—spending all your time with a man isn’t proper and will harm your reputation.”

Mingchu retorted, her voice hard, “I don’t care about what’s changed or about reputation. All I know is that I’m happy when Yuewu is with me! When Father didn’t care for me before, other than Mother and Nanny, Yuewu was the only one who treated me kindly.”

Her cheeks flushed as she went on, “If being your precious daughter means losing Yuewu, then I’d rather not have your affection at all!”

“You!” Lord Jiang was furious, raising his hand to strike.

Yuewu hurried forward. “Please, my lord, don’t be angry. The young lady is kindhearted and only reluctant to part with an old companion. I will persuade her.”

Mingchu angrily pushed Yuewu away. “I don’t need your persuasion! I won’t let you leave, no matter what Father says or does—it won’t change my mind.”

At that moment, a hearty laugh rang from the doorway. “Lord Jiang, it’s been a while.”

Wu Xuan strode in, full of energy.

He bent down to look at Mingchu and teased, “Well, my little princess, why the long face? Tell me who upset you, and I’ll sort them out for you.”

Seeing Wu Xuan, Mingchu perked up and grabbed his sleeve. “What brings you here?”

Wu Xuan turned to Lord Jiang. “I’ve been busy with the tribute business these past days, but I hurried here as soon as I finished, just to see how your father treats you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Of course I treat my daughter well!” Lord Jiang glared.

Wu Xuan pulled Mingchu closer, looking her up and down with a smile. “You’ve grown taller and even more beautiful since I last saw you!”

He turned to Lord Jiang. “I’d like to take Mingchu to the grasslands for a while. I’m now the chief of the Yue tribe, still unmarried, so Mingchu is still the princess of our people. Everyone on the grasslands is eager to see her.” His voice softened, becoming somber. “After all, she’s Danruo’s daughter.”

At the mention of her mother, Mingchu couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow. She said quietly, “I’d love to see the place where Mother grew up.”

Lord Jiang said, “Stay here for now, and go after Mingrou’s wedding.”

Wu Xuan agreed readily. “Of course, we’ll leave together after attending your sister’s wedding.”

Mingchu nodded in relief, but glanced at Yuewu with a hint of grievance. Yuewu lowered his head apologetically.

That night, Mingrou paced anxiously behind the rockery, with her maid Caichun standing close by. Mingrou whispered, “Caichun, are you sure you gave the letter to Young Master Han?”

“Yes, miss. I handed it to him myself—there’s no mistake.”

“Then why isn’t he here yet? It’s driving me mad.”

In the darkness, someone leapt over the wall and looked around furtively.

“Miss, look, I think that’s Young Master Han.”

Mingrou peered closely. “It’s him—Qingcai, I’m here.” She waved him over. Han Qingcai followed her voice.

“Rou’er, what’s so urgent that you had to call me here?” he asked in a low voice.

“Qingcai, listen to me. Today the Du family came to propose, and my father has agreed,” Mingrou said lightly. “But I told Du Zhong I don’t like him—I like you. Will you marry me?”

Han Qingcai’s face clouded. “Rou’er, I…”

“What is it?” she pressed.

Han Qingcai withdrew his hand and murmured, “I can’t marry you.”

Mingrou was stunned. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“I do! But think about it, Rou’er—I’m of humble birth, still only a registrar at the Imperial Academy. If I agree, do you think Du Zhong and your father will let me be? What about my future?” Han Qingcai’s breath was ragged.

“My future? Han Qingcai, is our love worth less than your ambitions?” Mingrou was shocked.

Han Qingcai grabbed her sleeve, speaking anxiously, “That’s not it, Rou’er. Listen, why don’t you marry Du Zhong first, and when I’ve made something of myself—”

“Han Qingcai! How can you even say such a thing?” Mingrou yelled.

Han Qingcai fell silent, head bowed.

Suddenly Mingrou laughed—a bitter, desolate laugh.

She had given him endless gold and silver; she had worked tirelessly for his prospects, yet all he remembered was her bad temper.

She supposed Du Zhong was confident that Han Qingcai lacked the courage or resolve to defy the Du family—so he acted with impunity.

Only she, like a fool, believed that love could conquer all.

Mingrou’s tears fell silently, leaving no trace on the ground.