Chapter Six

The morning before departing for the temporary palace, Li Lanxin finally finished preparing several embroidered design samples to send to Prince Jin’s residence for selection. There were eight in total, each depicting legendary tales of immortals symbolizing longevity and peace.

Límian carried the wooden box containing the drawings and opened the door, handing it over to Cheng, the third servant.

“Madam said she wrote down the meanings of each design, the differences in finished products, the agreed silver amounts, and the approximate completion times. If anyone at the prince’s residence asks, just answer according to what’s written,” she instructed carefully.

Cheng nodded solemnly, clutching the box tightly, then limped away toward the cart.

Límian watched him leave the alley and board the ox cart before closing and bolting the door behind her.

Inside, Li Lanxin was doing one last inventory check of the items to take to the outskirts of the capital the next day. She was nearing the end of the task.

Having confirmed everything was complete with nothing forgotten, she was about to close the lids of the trunks when Límian returned.

“Did you give everything to Third Servant?” Li Lanxin looked up.

Límian nodded. “All given. He rushed over with the ox cart and said he’s delivering the samples to the prince’s residence right now.”

The distance between Prince Jin’s residence and Qingluo Lane wasn’t too far; Cheng should arrive by noon.

Today was the final deadline, luckily they had made it just in time.

Li Lanxin wiped the thin sweat from her temples and smiled in relief. “That’s good.”

Límian glanced at the trunks, then leaned close to her and whispered, “Madam, you can actually ride horses and hunt in the palace gardens. Aren’t you bringing riding attire?”

Li Lanxin shook her head, amused. “I don’t know how to ride. You know that.”

Límian linked arms with her, speaking mysteriously, “Madam, no one expects you to really ride. There will be attendants to lead the horses for the ladies. You only need to sit on the saddle; the groom will guide the horse slowly through the forest slopes. It’s very different from walking and quite fun.”

Hearing this, Li Lanxin felt a flicker of interest. After all, she had never ridden a horse or even taken a carriage ride more than a handful of times.

As a child, she had followed her parents and later spent time at her uncle’s humble household, where no one could afford such precious animals. After entering the general’s residence, she lived a secluded life, rarely taking carriage rides, let alone learning to ride.

Yet, apart from her, even the young Xu Biying kept her own mount, and the frail Zhuang Ningyuan had a gentle chestnut horse.

Xu Yu also had one — a pure white horse named Cold Moon.

In the Liyang Pavilion, many quiet nights, Xu Yu had recounted to her in detail his past before being severely wounded: galloping on the battlefield with spear in hand, commanding the charge.

Unlike her own plain and uneventful past, Xu Yu’s history was brilliant, dazzling, and wildly carefree — inspiring admiration.

She often listened, entranced, and whenever Xu Yu saw how much she enjoyed his stories, his expression softened with affection.

She still remembered his words: “Lan Niang, when I’m fully recovered, I’ll return to the frontier. We’re husband and wife; we must go together. You won’t be able to ride horses at the frontier otherwise. I’ll personally teach you.”

Eight years had passed in a blink, and suddenly she realized she no longer clearly recalled Xu Yu’s face, though his voice remained vivid.

The memory was like morning mist—damp and suffocating with every breath.

Li Lanxin paused, then shook her head. “...Better not. It’s best not to stir up trouble.”

Once at the palace, her mother-in-law Zhang would certainly forbid her from wandering freely, and would dislike her indulging in such amusements.

Límian, sharp-eyed, immediately sensed her mood was off and quickly changed the subject.

“Then, shall we go watch the polo match? I secretly asked the maids at the outer courtyard; they said the Third Miss has brought all her polo equipment. There’s definitely going to be a polo game at the palace.”

Before Li Lanxin could respond, a lively shadow burst between them.

“Polo match? What polo match?” Xing’er popped her head out from between their arms, excited.

Li Lanxin could only smile wryly. Sometimes she felt as if she kept a lively little lion dog — energetic and unpredictable.

She gently pinched the soft flesh of the little girl’s cheek. “There’s a polo match at the palace soon. Maybe we’ll get to see some excitement. Are you happy?”

Xing’er leapt up with joy. “Yes!”

After her burst of happiness, she dashed out, bounding through the courtyard.

Límian was helpless, hesitating a moment before quietly saying, “Madam, you spoil her too much. Look at her—no discipline at all. If she bumps into some noble at the palace tomorrow, it wouldn’t be good.”

Li Lanxin was taken aback, a flicker in her eyes.

Privately, she didn’t want to stifle Xing’er’s nature. This was their home; children under ten shouldn’t be constrained at every turn.

But Límian’s words were reasonable. Xing’er was lively and unlike the general’s household maids who had been trained well. At the palace, a careless word or action could cause serious trouble.

“Límian, once we arrive at the palace, you must watch her closely. Don’t let her run off. Wherever Xing’er goes, you must go with her,” Li Lanxin instructed quietly.

“I will follow her, of course. But if I have to watch her all the time, Madam, you’ll...” Límian frowned, clearly troubled. If she had to keep an eye on Xing’er constantly, who would attend to Li Lanxin?

Their household was small and humble, unlike the general’s where each lady had several capable maids and nurses attending them.

Here, it was only Li Lanxin and two maids — Límian and Xing’er. They barely managed as is, and now if she had to devote herself entirely to Xing’er, the mistress might be neglected.

Li Lanxin smiled. “Just follow Xing’er everywhere, even to the washroom. Don’t let her go to places she shouldn’t or say things she mustn’t.”

“No need to worry about me. I’m not a three-year-old child. I won’t run off. When you’re not around, I’ll find a quiet, secluded spot to stay,” Xing’er said confidently.

—

Morning glow scattered a myriad of lights; the clamor of instruments and music soared to the heavens. Imperial banners fluttered as the royal carriage departed the palace, imperial guards swelling like tides to escort the dragon carriage and phoenix sedan. Eunuchs and palace maids held ornate canopies and precious trays, accompanying the procession in solemn order, winding eastward toward the mountains.

Afterward, imperial relatives, ministers, and noble clans paraded through the bustling streets, carriages clattering, radiating splendor and magnificence.

Li Lanxin gently lifted the carriage curtain, peeking through a narrow slit.

The streets were crowded with citizens craning their necks, elbowing and jostling, alive with noise and excitement.

Her carriage and attendants were at the very end of the Xu family’s female retinue, having traveled some distance past the “Lanxun Embroidery Shop” sign, which flashed by in a blur.

Li Lanxin opened the curtain a little wider to glance back at the shop one last time, then settled back into her seat.

Turning, she saw Límian and Xing’er sleeping soundly together.

Because they had to arrive early at the general’s residence, they had risen before dawn and waited an hour upon arrival. The two girls hadn’t been allowed to sit, suffering a good deal. No wonder they had collapsed into a heap and fallen asleep immediately.

Li Lanxin tucked two soft pillows beside them, then leaned back into her seat.

The carriage jolted rhythmically, lulling her into drowsiness until her consciousness faded completely.

After an unknown time, she felt a warmth spread through her body and something gently brushing the sweat from her temples.

A sudden heavy jolt beneath her made her snap open her eyes.

Turning sharply, she met the wide eyes of Xing’er, who was carefully wiping the thin sweat from her brow with a cool cloth.

“Madam, you’re awake?” Xing’er smiled sweetly.

Li Lanxin was still slightly dazed. The light outside was no longer the pale dawn but a dazzling midday sun, and she could clearly feel its warmth.

The carriage curtain fluttered gently; outside the slit lay a stretch of deep green foliage.

“What is this...?”

Límian leaned in. “Madam, we’ve arrived!”