Chapter 85: A Budding Affection

As noon approached, the capital was gradually embraced by the chill of late autumn. In the Heir Apparent’s residence, most of the servants, being locals, had already donned thicker garments. Chen Pingwu and Yang Guang, having come from the north, were more accustomed to the cold.

Wang Jia followed the servants through the front hall and into the rear courtyard. She had not yet caught sight of anyone when the sharp, spirited cries of exertion reached her ears. When Wang Jia finally saw clearly, she beheld a young man—features rugged, expression stern—brandishing a long sword. The blade flashed through the air, sweeping away a flurry of fallen leaves.

He cut a striking figure, as bold and dashing as a general seasoned by a hundred battles. Wang Jia thought silently to herself that this was the very image her heart had always yearned for. She paused, her girlish heart fluttering in rhythm with his every movement.

“Miss, what’s the matter?” A maid noticed that Wang Jia had stopped in her tracks while the others walked on, and hurried over to softly inquire.

Meanwhile, Chen Pingwu, practicing his swordplay in the courtyard, heard the commotion and glanced over, puzzled. His eyes, bright as starlight, caused Wang Jia’s cheeks to flush with embarrassment.

Yang Guang called out coldly to Chen Pingwu, “Heir, you’re distracted again.”

Chen Pingwu grinned sheepishly, scratched his head, and, eager to change the subject, pointed in Wang Jia’s direction. “We have guests. Let’s stop for today.” With that, he flicked his sword, threw a cloak over his shoulders, and ran toward Wang Jia, leaving Yang Guang standing stoically in place.

Chen Pingwu had always approached martial training half-heartedly. With so many capable warriors under Prince Changwu’s command, there was little chance he would ever be called upon to lead the charge himself. Back home, under his father’s watchful eye, he would train a bit more diligently. But now, in the capital, any opportunity to escape practice was seized.

As Chen Pingwu ran toward her, Wang Jia’s heart raced and she lowered her head, at a loss for words. Chen Pingwu, anxious that Yang Guang would call him back to continue training, hurried over and, without a second thought, grabbed Wang Jia’s hand and dashed toward the front courtyard.

This impetuous act made Wang Jia’s heart pound wildly. As she ran alongside Chen Pingwu, she felt that large, warm hand holding her arm, filling her with an indescribable happiness.

“Phew! Finally slipped away. And you are...?” Chen Pingwu released her, glancing back to be sure Yang Guang hadn’t followed, then turned, curiosity in his eyes, to Wang Jia.

“I...” Wang Jia, caught off guard by the warmth of his breath, grew even more flustered and could not utter a single word, on the verge of tears.

Just then, her maid caught up, hurriedly stepped forward, and scolded Chen Pingwu, “What’s wrong with you? How can you just take my lady’s hand and run off in front of everyone? Miss, are you crying? What did you do to her?” Noticing the mist in Wang Jia’s eyes, the maid quickly shielded her, glaring at Chen Pingwu in anger.

Chen Pingwu, entirely at a loss, looked from the maid to Wang Jia, then to the nearby servant for explanation.

“Heir, this is the Princess from the Pingyi Palace. She’s come to express her gratitude,” the servant hastily explained.

Upon hearing this, and seeing Wang Jia’s blushing, bashful face, Chen Pingwu immediately understood. It was clear that Lord Pingyi had found an excuse to send his daughter to meet him. Chen Pingwu frowned, his dislike for Wang Changgen deepening.

Though Wang Jia was shy, she noticed Chen Pingwu’s displeasure and, thinking he was annoyed by her maid’s rudeness, hurried to explain. “Heir, I am Wang Jia. Please forgive Peier; she was only concerned for me. I hope you will not take offense.” She offered a slight bow in apology.

Her maid, not to be outdone, pulled Wang Jia back and retorted angrily, “Miss, why apologize? He’s the one who was out of line!”

Wang Jia gave her maid a frantic look, signaling her to be quiet.

Although Chen Pingwu resented Lord Pingyi, he saw that Wang Jia was courteous and rather attractive. He thought to himself that it would be wrong to let his dislike for her father affect his treatment of her.

“Greetings, Miss. I am Chen Pingwu,” he replied. Suddenly, something occurred to him and he asked, “Miss, were you born and raised in the capital?”

Wang Jia was momentarily taken aback by the question but nodded in response.

Chen Pingwu smiled and quickly invited her to sit inside. “Miss Wang, there’s no need for formality. We’re both children of the royal houses—by rights, we should call each other brother and sister. You’re younger than I am; why not call me Brother Wu?”

“Come, let’s sit inside and talk.”

Wang Jia’s heart was filled with joy, and she followed him to the main hall. Once seated, Chen Pingwu ordered tea and resumed the conversation.

“I’m new to the capital and unfamiliar with its ways. I hope you can enlighten me,” he said.

Wang Jia nodded with a gentle smile. “Since Brother Wu is willing to discuss marriage with me, there’s no need to be so formal. If you don’t mind, you may call me Jia’er, as my family does.”

The two fell into pleasant conversation, losing track of time. Yet Chen Pingwu, upon learning Feng Yewu’s true identity, felt conflicted. Should Prince Changwu raise an army, the two of them would become enemies on the battlefield. Still, he could not help but be drawn to Feng Yewu. Helpless to resolve matters, he could only hope for a future opportunity to reconcile both sides.

His conversation with Wang Jia about the capital was, in truth, motivated by thoughts of the one who dwelled within the imperial city.

But Wang Jia, during their lively exchange, found herself falling for Chen Pingwu’s sunny, forthright manner.

...

While laughter filled the capital, far to the north in the Yan Dynasty’s Beichang Palace, the wind howled, carrying heavy snow. Wei Siyuan sat in his study, the central brazier hungrily consuming dry firewood. A spy handed him a letter.

The flickering firelight cast dancing shadows across Wei Siyuan’s brooding face. He read the letter in silence, then tossed it into the flames, watching it disintegrate to ash.

“My lord, has there been a response from King Jiangyuan about the alliance?” came a hoarse voice from a cloaked figure in the corner, face shrouded in shadow.

Wei Siyuan stared coldly into the fire and answered softly, “The girl went; she exposed the truth about King Jiangyuan’s adopted son. I fear the alliance is lost.”

The mysterious figure laughed harshly, the sound grating as ice scraping against stone. “He managed to restrain himself and not strike at you?”

Wei Siyuan, indifferent, stirred the flames, then lifted a cup of hot wine and drained it in one go, savoring the lingering taste with a sneer. “Now, the entire far north is sealed by snow. Not even the so-called Children of the Blizzard, the Ti Di tribe, can move freely. Strike at me? Ridiculous.”

With that, the study fell silent once more, save for the crackling of the fire devouring the cold.