The Iced Cheese was sweet to begin with; the sweetness at her nose only grew heavier.
But woven into the sweetness of the cheese was a faint something else, so that Qin Xiang couldn’t tell if it was the dessert’s sugar or Yun Qian’s own taste.
After the kiss, Yun Qian didn’t go deeper. She leisurely scooped another spoonful. “I’ll let you smell it—count it as eating.”
Qin Xiang’s gaze fixed on her. She wanted to say something, but when Yun Qian leaned in again, she chose to keep quiet—the moment she opened her mouth, she’d touch her lips.
Two rounds later, Yun Qian found the Iced Cheese cloying. She had never much cared for such sweet things; this called for a pot of tea.
She didn’t want it anymore. But the cheese melted the moment it entered the mouth.
So she picked up the bowl and called for A-Gui. “Prepare bathwater for the Son-in-Law.”
A-Gui took the bowl and left.
Qin Xiang was puzzled, until Yun Qian reminded her: “Healing herbs are in the water. Soak a while—it’s good for you.”
Somehow, Qin Xiang felt the person before her wasn’t a high official but a gentle big sister next door—tender in manner, thorough in care.
Qin Xiang was led away by A-Gui. Yun Qian sat in the room, drinking tea to cut the sweetness.
When Qin Xiang returned from her bath, Yun Qian went to bathe.
After both were clean, they lay together.
Yun Qian said nothing. She had court tomorrow, and she wasn’t teasing Qin Xiang tonight. For another thing, she’d teased enough today.
One more round, and she’d seem frivolous.
Qin Xiang turned her back to her. The position was uncomfortable—it pressed on her wounds. She tossed twice, then chose to sleep on her stomach.
Comfortable, she fell asleep at once.
A good night’s sleep.
In the morning, the spot beside her was empty. Compared to Yun Qian’s diligence, she was a lazy lump.
A-Gui attended her wash and breakfast. Before long, Yun Qian returned and, having changed out of her official robe, came straight to the bridal chamber.
Time for medicine. Once a day, and Yun Qian never delegated it. Her manner was open; Qin Xiang wanted to refuse, but couldn’t find the words. Say it wrong, and she’d seem petty.
Yun Qian washed her hands, gathered a dab of white ointment on her fingertip, and looked up to see Qin Xiang’s ears glowing red.
A girl of sixteen, just at the age of shy knowledge.
This time, Yun Qian didn’t tease her. She applied the medicine properly; her fingertip brushed over the soft skin, and still, Qin Xiang’s flesh quivered.
Yun Qian looked at the snow-white, rounded shoulder and remembered how obsessed the Emperor had been with the Little Empress in the past life. A fish bone stuck in her throat.
But Qin Xiang had said she had no true marital relations with the Emperor… If that was true, for whom was she keeping herself?
Yun Qian tucked the thought away. Her fingertip still held a bit of ointment; she smoothed it over a scar near the nape, pressing gently. Qin Xiang flinched.
“Does it hurt?” Yun Qian’s gaze was heavy. “I pressed too hard.”
Qin Xiang twisted her head, raising a hand to touch the scar. Yun Qian reached it first, rubbing the bruise. “Do you have someone you love?”
She asked directly, like girls sharing secrets. Qin Xiang, unguarded, answered immediately: “No. I don’t go out much.”
Staying in, she never met anyone—so there was no one to love.
Yun Qian relaxed. Perhaps she’d been overthinking. She nodded, withdrew her hand, put away the salve, and rose to wash.
Qin Xiang quickly dressed, turning sideways to tie her sash.
Had she not turned, fine. But turning, from Yun Qian’s angle, revealed the pale skin at her loosened collar—below the collarbone, hidden by the undergarment, not quite clear.
Yun Qian’s handwashing slowed, timed to when Qin Xiang finished tying her sash.
Qin Xiang tied it. She finished washing.
They completed their tasks simultaneously. Yun Qian spoke first: “In a few days, I’ll host my colleagues for a meal. If you don’t mind, you can attend.”
“Colleagues?” The word was foreign to Qin Xiang. Those who used “colleagues” were all great officials.
Yun Qian’s tone was calm—without the Empress Dowager’s authority, without Lin Yao’s aggression. It sounded like inborn gentleness.
Not particularly melodic, but unsuited to her rank as Prime Minister, carrying a rare warmth.
Qin Xiang simply found it pleasant—the comfort of a breeze crossing her heart.
“I don’t mind. But I don’t go out much. I don’t know how to behave.”
“Be yourself. They’ll all like you.” Yun Qian comforted her. “Remember, you are Qin Xiang. No need to please anyone. As for making friends—if you get along, say one more word; if not, don’t bother.”
Qin Xiang was enlightened. Yun Qian pretended not to see her expression. “Let’s go out and have some clothes made, and buy you some jewelry. Even in your Scholar’s Robe, you need accessories.”
Qin Xiang was plain. When she arrived, she had not a single jade pendant on her—not even a cheap one.
A casual sentence from Yun Qian carried faint authority, with a flavor different from before, leaving no room for argument.
Qin Xiang nodded. But she felt a pang of guilt. Spending someone else’s money never felt right.
And she couldn’t repay it.
They tidied up and went out. As they were about to board the carriage, Yun Qian asked, “Can you ride a horse?”
“No.” Qin Xiang shook her head. “But I can learn.”
She wanted to learn—but the Qin family had always forbidden her to touch horses.
Yun Qian nodded. “Next rest day, I’ll take you to the riding grounds.”
The capital had several riding grounds with fine horses, where officials loved to play. Yun Qian had been twice, but in recent years matters had piled up, and she’d stopped going.
“We’ll pick your horse today, learn in a few days. Fine horses are hard to come by.” Yun Qian said to herself, settling it in three sentences.
Qin Xiang was dumbstruck. Such a big matter—didn’t it need consideration?
Perhaps buying a horse wasn’t a big matter, nor learning to ride.
The capital had four great markets, east and west. The older ones held many century-old establishments.
Yun Qian brought her to the Eastern Market, walking from shop to shop, Qin Xiang trailing behind. Many little trinkets were bought—things without names, but exquisite.
At the Embroidery Workshop, Yun Qian told her, “The residence has plenty of bestowed fabrics, but they’re too ornate—flashy on the streets. Let’s buy ordinary market cloth instead, nothing that draws the eye.”
Gifted items weren’t for you to use as you pleased; they invited envy.
Qin Xiang nodded obediently.
Yun Qian chose some red cloth, then, seeing Qin Xiang’s snow-white skin, picked sky-blue and sapphire, and finally had them take some black brocade—a dozen shades in all.
The workshop asked for the address, and the goods would be delivered.
Qin Xiang was amazed. “They deliver?”
“Money makes the world go ’round.” Yun Qian smiled. “There are embroiderers in the residence. We’ll take your measurements and in a few days you’ll have new clothes.”
Qin Xiang blinked, her delight plain on her face.
Leaving the workshop, a hundred paces on were several jade shops.
“Why are they all together?” Qin Xiang didn’t understand such businesses. Shouldn’t they be apart?
Yun Qian patiently explained: “At first, one shop did well. Others wanted a share of the soup—one house, two houses, three houses. Naturally, they multiplied.”
Qin Xiang had an epiphany. She looked at the shops. “Which one was first?”
“We’ll see them one by one.” Yun Qian was affable and unhurried, leading Qin Xiang into the nearest shop.
Qin Xiang trotted after her. Inside were gilded shelves; she blinked. So extravagant.
The shopkeeper greeted them warmly. Yun Qian stated her needs. The shopkeeper had the attendants bring goods and led them to a private room.
Good jade was kept inside, never shown casually. Jade was priceless; one misstep, and it would be coveted.
Strips of fine jade laid out before her. Yun Qian swept a glance and shook her head slightly. Qin Xiang looked up. What was there to fault?
At home, her sister was easygoing. Out of doors, she was picky. Five exchanges, and none caught her eye.
Qin Xiang grew restless. The shopkeeper was sweating too, and asked Yun Qian’s thoughts softly.
“Just browsing. If nothing, then it’s nothing.” Yun Qian rose. “I’ll come another day.”
After nearly an hour, they left empty-handed. Even Qin Xiang felt embarrassed. She smiled awkwardly at the shopkeeper and hurried after Yun Qian.
Second shop, third shop. In the end, nothing was bought.
Just past noon, they stopped at a nearby restaurant for lunch.
But before they entered, they heard a commotion. A procession approached—and close up, they saw it was a prison cart.
The prison cart was draped in black cloth, conspicuous in broad daylight.
People lined both sides of the road, chattering about what was inside.
Qin Xiang was curious and asked Yun Qian, “Is that a criminal you caught?”
“I don’t know. I’ll ask tomorrow. Let’s eat.” Yun Qian couldn’t say. She’d seen such a thing in her past life—it was the Emperor’s birthday gift to the Empress Dowager. A person, it was said, whose blood, used in medicine, prolonged life and preserved youth.
But the Empress Dowager had refused. She wouldn’t take nameless pills for the sake of youth.
Where had that person ended up? Yun Qian couldn’t recall. She’d have someone investigate later.
After lunch, they went to the riding grounds to choose a horse.
The grounds were vast. Rumor had it the owner was enormously wealthy—to buy such a plot in the capital, where every inch was gold, took no ordinary means and no ordinary mind.
Many carriages with insignias of marquises and dukes were parked at the gate—the aristocratic families of the capital.
The moment they alighted, people swarmed over, eagerly greeting Yun Qian.
Yun Qian exchanged pleasantries, then grabbed Qin Xiang and headed for the stables. Those who lagged could only watch their backs.
“That’s the fiancé Yun Qian snatched?”
“Not just a fiancé—they’ve already bowed and bedded. Proper couple.”
“But he’s so young. Only sixteen. So tender.”
“Maybe that’s just how Prime Minister Yun likes them.”
Hearing the last remark, Qin Xiang inexplicably turned around. Before she could speak, Yun Qian caught her head and turned it back. “What are you looking at? They’re just jealous of you.”
Qin Xiang: “…”
