A gentle breeze stirred through the garden, setting the peony branches to sway and butterflies to flutter among the flowers. Yet all around was quiet, no human voices, only the clear spring in the flower ravine gurgling softly.
After a while, the eunuch folded the imperial edict, bowed, and stepped forward to present it, breaking the silence: “Congratulations to the Fourth Miss.”
Ming Tan’s mind went blank; the etiquettes and rites she had always performed so well suddenly all deserted her. She just stared at the edict until Zhou Jingwan, who had come to herself a moment earlier, tugged her sleeve again. Only then did she snap out of the frozen numbness, awkwardly perform the kowtow to give thanks, and, hands trembling slightly, receive the edict.
The eunuch privately breathed out in relief, his voice soft and deferential: “This servant will return to the palace to report at once.”
He then nodded apologetically to the Duke and his wife; after all, the proclamation meant for Marquis Jing’an’s household had been read at the Duke’s residence, which was somewhat abrupt.
Although the matter was irregular, the eunuch did not elaborate, and the Duke and his wife felt it inappropriate to speculate on the imperial will. Instead, they used the moment to ask after the Emperor’s and the Empress’s well-being.
If the Duke’s household refrained from conjecture, naturally no one else dared speak plainly. Moreover, beyond the shock of a proclamation being read at the wrong residence, what stunned everyone even more was the content of that imperial decree.
Ming family’s A-tan has been officially made the primary consort of the Prince who Pacifies the North!
A high-status match is common enough; it’s not that the Marquis Jing’an’s legitimate daughter is wildly unmatched with the Prince who Pacifies the North. It’s just that A-tan of the Ming family had only recently broken off her engagement—not long ago—so, however it happened, most families would wait at least half a year before publicly negotiating a new match. The Emperor’s move was truly unexpected, and the betrothal was to that famed war god few have seen in person, His Highness the Prince who Pacifies the North.
Everyone still remembered clearly how the Prince who Pacifies the North had publicly slighted the Cheng’en Marquisate at the Lantern Festival banquet.
“A-tan, A-tan!” Seeing Ming Tan remain motionless for a long while, Bai Minmin and Zhou Jingwan couldn’t help but softly call to her.
After all, the future Princess Consort of Dingbei who had been granted in marriage was still kneeling there, holding the imperial edict and stunned. Apart from the Duke and Duchess of Ping, no one else dared to stand, but they couldn’t stay kneeling forever.
Mingtan came to her senses, was helped to her feet by two people, and slowly opened the edict, staring at the words “Fourth Daughter of the Marquis of Jing’an” and “Princess Consort of Dingbei” for a long while.
There was no mistake in the proclamation.
It really was her.
She was granted a marriage.
It wasn’t a matter that fell on her alone—after the initial shock, the others adapted and accepted it; besides, they came forward and saw the edict so clearly written, stamped with a gleaming imperial seal. What was there left to refuse? It was the greatest of good fortune!
The Prince of Dingbei was a superlative prince elevated beyond the ordinary, so his princess consort would naturally be of the same exalted rank. Moreover, the Prince of Dingbei’s position carried real power that no other prince could compare to—otherwise so many noble young women wouldn’t have been rushing to make themselves seen at the Shangyuan palace banquet.
By the way, speaking of the prince, what did Princess Fengzhao just say?
Her father, Prince Yi, is not the same mother as the Emperor. During the late Emperor’s reign he was not favored; by the time he was given his fief he was sent far away to Yun City. Though it was a fief, he had no real power. It was only in these past two years, as the Emperor sought to show brotherly favor, that he allowed him to return to the capital and establish his household.
A daughter of an ordinary prince pointing at the prince’s powerful wife and saying, “I’m fit for the peony, you’re not!” — it’s utterly absurd. These noble girls, despite living for over a decade, had never seen such a swift and spectacular public humiliation.
Bai Minmin had nearly lost her head from anger at Princess Fengzhao just now and almost stepped forward to argue. Now, with an imperial edict descending from the heavens, she could not let Fengzhao go so easily. She stepped forward and raised her voice: “Princess, tell me—do you believe now that this peony is fit for A-Tan or not?”
“……”
Feng Zhao’s face had never looked so ugly.
Bai Minmin was about to step forward and pick a peony for Ming Tan’s hairpin, but Ming Tan gripped Bai Minmin’s wrist: “Plants have their nature, and flowers are happy in their own beauty.”
Although Ming Tan hadn’t yet figured out the situation and didn’t want to act rashly, that remark laid everything bare. What Princess Feng Zhao had just done appeared even more vulgar and crude, unbecoming of her status.
No one around spoke, but their gazes pressed in like a dense net, pricking at Feng Zhao as if with needles—some scornful, some mocking—each look weaving together into an unprecedented humiliation.
Feng Zhao couldn’t stay in that garden for even half a moment longer. She glared viciously at Ming Tan, stormed off in a fury, covered her face and headed straight for the Yi Prince’s residence.
After returning to the mansion, Feng Zhao spent a full half day screaming, crying, and scolding everyone; she hadn’t had enough of it yet when, at dusk, the Empress sent someone to the Yi Prince’s residence with an edict reprimanding her, bluntly stating that her conduct had been improper and that she should shut herself up in the household to reflect.
Feng Zhao was stunned.
Actually, her tinkering with the peony poem and breaking a peony wasn’t such a big deal, but the point was that the person she misbehaved against was the future Princess Consort of Dingbei, the place she made a scene was the Empress’s natal family—the Pingguo Duke’s residence—and the peony she had ruined and trampled was a prized variety the Empress had given to her own sisters to enjoy and personally tended in the palace. Who exactly did Feng Zhao think she was slapping in the face?
After Prince Yi and his wife learned of the matter, they were so furious that their hearts faltered; they ordered Feng Zhao not to leave the house to reflect on her mistakes, which directly caused that for the next half year no one in the capital saw her.
Of course, that was a later development. For now, with the imperial edict conferring a marriage suddenly arriving and Feng Zhao storming out in anger, the poetry gathering could in no way continue.
Fortunately, Zhang Hanmiao had a nature that loved noise and enjoyed watching drama; she found this scene thoroughly entertaining and did not feel any resentment at having her moment stolen or at the gathering being disrupted.
Everyone went their separate ways, and the news that Miss Ming’s Atan had been betrothed to the Crown Prince of the Northern Palace spread out as the poetry gathering broke up.
When Ming Tan and the others returned to the mansion, Madam Pei was just seeing several unfamiliar eunuchs out of the gate.
Seeing Ming Tan, the eunuchs managed only forced, awkward smiles, performed their bows, and hurried away.
“Mother, what’s this?” Ming Tan’s heart skipped; her little head still rang from the earlier shock, buzzing and unsettled as she worried whether this was yet another terrifying imperial edict.
Madam Pei suppressed her joy and said calmly, “Go back to your rooms first, we’ll talk there.”
The imperial marriage edict had only just been reported back to the Jing’an Marquisate when Madam Pei, who had been pacing anxiously, suddenly heard of the bestowed marriage—what was there left to doubt! Clearly the Son of Heaven had learned that the Empress Dowager had already sent someone to the residence to arrange a forced match, so he’d played an unconventional preemptive move. That maneuver was clever; what made it even more so was the bridegroom chosen—Prince Dingbei was not at all comparable to those other commandery princes or heirs apparent.
Madam Pei linked arms with Ming Tan and, all smiles and warmth, walked into Lanxin Courtyard. Not long after, Ming Tingyuan, his face flushed with excitement, strode into the marquisate and headed straight for Madam Pei’s quarters to look for them.
It turned out the Chengkang Emperor had not been bluffing: he really had intercepted one of the Empress Dowager’s decrees. But the empress dowager could write, speak, and seal—one edict could be followed by another. He had kept Ming Tingyuan behind after court to talk and persuade; the empress dowager learned of it, and the second imperial decree was dispatched directly.
When the persuasion succeeded and he learned of what had happened, the Chengkang Emperor thought to himself: damn, how am I going to explain this to Jiang Qizhi?
Fortunately, his fondness for a son-in-law on a dragon’s back sparked a clever idea in Ming Tingyuan’s mind: he knew the Empress Dowager was a stickler for protocol and would never issue a marriage decree when there was only one concubine of the Pei clan in the residence. The Empress Dowager didn’t know Ming Tan wasn’t at home today; the subordinates would surely wait for him or for Ming Tan’s return before reading the edict. So he suggested going straight to the Duke of Pingguo’s mansion to announce the decree. It just so happened that the young ladies from the various households were gathered there today for a poetry meeting; if the edict were read publicly before all those eyes, it would be as good as nailed down.
Emperor Chengkang thought the idea excellent, and immediately sent people; it was arranged successfully.
After hearing Ming Tingyuan brag on and on about the dramatic sweep of rushing to present the marriage edict, Ming Tan: “…”
She had been matchmaking, and it turned into such a grand mobilization.
They really underestimated her father as a crude, rash fellow.
But why the Duke of Dingbei?
Isn’t he also another crude, rash fellow?
And if the Duke of Dingbei can receive the favor, why not Second Young Master Shu? Isn’t the Right Prime Minister also a devoted, unwavering supporter of the Emperor?
Mingtan truly found this news hard to swallow. She had prayed sincerely before the Buddha for over a month — had the Buddha missed something? Hadn’t it been agreed that the man would be a prodigy, that he would possess superior looks?
The position of Princess of Dingbei was indeed exalted, but now whenever she recalled that reckless, arrogant brute’s outrageous conduct at the Shangyuan palace banquet she felt suffocated all over again! If she married into that family, how would husband and wife speak to each other? Besides, a man who gloried in his merits like that would likely have her lose her head along with his sooner or later! Most importantly, such a coarse person’s appearance and bearing could never compare to Shu Er.
Ming Tingyuan paid no heed to Mingtan’s strained expression. Seated at the head, he continued to extol the martial exploits of His Highness the Prince of Dingbei—
“His Highness the Prince of Dingbei is truly a rare talent! Among the younger generation, there are few who can really lead troops in battle. In his youth, three thousand elite soldiers held off thirty thousand barbarians from the northern territories — that wasn’t like the weaker southern tribes, where the few defeating the many is not so surprising. I remember when I later led forces to reinforce, they had already broken through into the interior and turned the tide! The scene then was rivers of blood, corpses strewn for miles!”
Ming Tan: “…”
His face turned a little paler.
“…That spy fell into his hands, of course he stopped behaving like a human; bloody stabbings were nothing to him. Tch, they didn’t even dare claim the body when it was thrown back — he kept them quiet for more than half a year!”
Ming Tan: “…”
His face grew a little paler still.
“And then there was Chengkang at thirteen… so young, yet decisive and ruthless in his methods. He hung the opposing leader’s eldest son’s corpse on the city gate for three days until it was dried to a mummy!”
Ming Tan: “…”
You’re so happy — do you want your daughter to end up dried out like a sun-dried bean too?
