Chapter 2: Young Master Xun Changqing Part 1

The Great Qi Imperial Capital had always been the domain of emperors, with winding green waters and a meandering moat encircling the city walls. Ornate boats glided leisurely along.

The scenery was enchanting, with vermilion towers standing in rows, roofs soaring in unison. On the wide streets, teams of four horses galloped by, carriage tops brushing the clouds. Such prosperity stemmed from Great Qi’s many years of recuperation and growth.

In a tucked-away corner stood a tavern. Few pedestrians passed its door, as it strayed from the main street, but the hall inside brimmed with guests, voices booming in a cacophony. Waiters darted back and forth, white cloths draped over their shoulders, teapots in hand as they refilled newcomers’ cups.

A platform occupied one corner of the hall, drawing everyone’s gaze. The storyteller was an elderly man in his eighties, worldly and wise, his white beard trailing to his waist. His sharp eyes scanned the crowd drinking and eating meat, then he cleared his throat.

In a bold tone, he declared, “Last time, we spoke of how the Female Emperor pacified the borderlands, with the Yuan Family’s young general earning great merit. But at that moment, with the army still on its return journey, a certain Prince Xun led troops to force the palace. Guess what happened next?”

He was clearly teasing his appetite when a man, flushed with drink, grabbed a handful of peanuts and hurled them at the storyteller. Bushy brows furrowed over wide ears as he spat and cursed, “Old man, get on with it! You always do this, stringing us along. If you won’t tell, get lost— you’ve ruined my drink!”

Others joined in the jeers. The tavern’s booming business owed much to this old storyteller, who spun tales of street gossip, foreign wars, or royal intrigues with captivating flair, leaving listeners enthralled.

Up on the balcony railing lounged a young noble boy, his face childlike, clad in fine brocade. Thick, jet-black hair was tied atop his head, and a pair of fair, steamed-bun-soft hands gripped the dark pearwood rail tightly. His lips pursed in anger, dark eyes glaring at the storyteller below. In his fury, a faint noble aura pressed outward.

The maid beside him didn’t know why she was upset—children’s minds typically craved play—so she suggested, “Little County Princess, do you want to hear the story? This slave will take you down; it’s too far to hear clearly.”

The child leaning on the rail was the youngest daughter of Great Qi’s Pingnan Prince, Xun Changqing.

At just five or six years old, her features hadn’t fully matured, her cheeks a bit round. She couldn’t command awe without anger, but a single glare carried a ferocity beyond her years, startling the maid into quick correction: “Little County Princess… no… Little Young Master…”

Xun Changqing lowered her eyes. Just days ago, upon opening them, her mind had flooded with icy Yangtze waters, devoid of warmth, choking her lungs, chilling her blood and still-beating heart.

She didn’t know what became of Wei Lingci after her leap. Had she truly married the emperor and become mother to the realm?

Wei Lingci had been a lying bastard from start to finish!

Xun Changqing’s tender, pale face scrunched up again when a shadow suddenly loomed. A hand poked her cheek, a crisp voice laced with amusement saying, “Little Young Master, lost in thought here? Plotting your next play adventure?”

The sudden figure made her recoil, but upon seeing the red skirt, she silently cursed herself for blurring reality and dream. The Pingnan Prince’s Consort before her was her mother, the border princess sent in marriage, over a decade younger than her father, the Pingnan Prince, and his second wife.

A noble princess of golden branch and jade leaf, wed to an allied nation as a stepwife—Xun Changqing couldn’t fathom her mother’s initial reasoning. Even for a tributary state, it was no way to treat oneself.

Her father, Pingnan Prince Xun Yi, guarded the southwest yearly, rarely returning, leaving her mother to tend the vast Pingnan Prince’s Mansion alone much of the time. A consort of such esteem, yet steeped in solitude.

In the dream, she recalled her mother returning to the borderlands long ago, never to come back, with no further news—even at her river leap, she hadn’t known if she lived or died. In this life, she should cherish her more.

Xun Changqing was small in stature, while Pingnan Prince’s Consort Ana Yanran hailed from the borderlands, raised on vast grasslands, masterful in riding and archery, tall and striking. At five, Xun Changqing barely reached her waist.

The consort had dwelled in Great Qi for seven years, her attire and adornments fully in Qi style. She stood slightly taller than Qi folk, but otherwise blended seamlessly.

Xun Changqing figured she’d lived two lives, yet before the consort, she remained a child. Dream events might be true or false, so she couldn’t babble and worry her mother. A long-absent warmth stirred within, and she shuffled closer with tiny steps, grinning, “Mother Consort, I just don’t want to hear that storyteller. It’s all lies.”

Ana Yanran had overheard half the tale indoors. Her willow-leaf brows relaxed, her gaze tender as she took her hand and led her downstairs, slowly explaining, “Not entirely. Your great-grandmother did pacify the borderlands—undeniable. You’re still young, so you wouldn’t know the history.”

In her previous life, she’d muddled away nearly a decade on Lingyun Mountain, mastering only indulgence until her capture revealed her as a useless playboy, ignorant of politics, military, or people’s livelihood.

All Wei Lingci’s fault for sheltering her too well. Lying bastard…

Xun Changqing pursed her lips silently, trailing the consort. At the door, a youth in dark robes and golden hair crown approached from afar. She pouted and hid behind her mother, her body aching from old punishments. The Second Imperial Prince Xun Yiran was the current emperor’s second son, empress’s legitimate birth, outwardly mild but ruthless at heart—likely all his current amiability was feigned.