Chapter 5 — Beauty Carries No Guilt

When he spoke those words, his tone was laced with indolence and quiet contempt. He felt not the slightest inkling that he had uttered anything capable of wounding another soul. In that instant, a cold clarity washed over me; I understood that, deep down, he was no different from all the rest. They all looked down upon the humble Brook Village, and they looked down upon me. They all believed that my departure from my homeland to enter the grand estate and become the Consort of Prince Wei was nothing short of a profound stroke of undeserved fortune. They expected me to brim with eternal gratitude, bowing my head in perpetual indebtedness. Yet, not a single soul had ever bothered to ask whether this was what I truly desired. Much like those years ago, when the strategist penned his letters to the Prince, deliberating on the matter of offering me up to the imperial court—none of them ever paused to ask if it was my will. There had only ever been a single exception. It was during a quiet afternoon when I was dining at the Bright Moon Pavilion, and by sheer coincidence, I overheard the whispers of patrons in the adjacent room.

Do you all know that the Consort of Prince Wei originally hails from some remote countryside?

Utterly unrefined and devoid of virtue, she simply relied on a pretty face to claw her way up to such a lofty position. Heaven knows what sordid schemes and petty wiles she employed behind the scenes to seduce him.

I bit my lip, a wave of bitter humiliation washing over me, leaving me paralyzed and at a loss for how to react. Then, suddenly, a voice rang out—clear, bright, and utterly refreshing.

I have heard that the affection between the Prince and his Consort is remarkably deep. If Her Highness truly possesses nothing more than a pretty face and is utterly devoid of any other redeeming qualities, then why do you not condemn the Prince instead for being so shallow, so easily blinded by mere physical beauty, rather than single out a lone woman for your venom? And if Her Highness genuinely possesses virtues far beyond the ordinary, which is what compelled the Prince to cherish her so deeply, then it is merely your own eyes that are blind, utterly incapable of perceiving the worth of others, leaving you with nothing to do but cast baseless, malicious aspersions. It seems to me that, come what may, the truly unrefined and virtueless ones here are all of you.

The spring sunlight was brilliant and warm, and the gentle breeze brushed softly against my skin. In that fleeting heartbeat, I heard the frantic, thunderous pounding of my own heart. That was the very first time anyone had ever stood up to shield me from the world. And that person was none other than Chu Ming Ze.

The very next day, Chu Ming Ze came to the inn. He possessed an exceptionally striking appearance, with sharp, determined brows and eyes that shone like autumn stars. Clad in a flowing, midnight-black robe, his tall and upright frame only served to accentuate his vibrant energy and untamed spirit. When his gaze first fell upon me, it lingered for a brief moment, filled with quiet awe, before he suddenly burst into a hearty laugh.

It is no wonder the gardener mentioned in his letter that Lady Su was blessed with both talent and beauty. Meeting you in person today, I realize his words were far too modest.

He had brought along a carriage, and once my modest luggage was securely stowed away, he prepared to escort both the old gardener and me out of the city. Along the way, I noticed a sudden surge of guards and bailiffs swarming the bustling streets. They clutched rolled-up portrait scrolls in their hands, their eyes darting about as if desperately searching for someone. The gardener went ahead to make inquiries, and when he returned, his expression was a peculiar mix of bewilderment and shock.

It is said... that a concubine of the Prince of Wei has fled from the estate.

I froze in sheer disbelief. When on earth had the Prince taken a concubine? Yet I, his supposed primary wife, had remained utterly oblivious. Even as these thoughts churned in my mind, a sudden gust of wind swept through the thoroughfare. A portrait scroll was snatched right out of a bailiff's hand, unfurling as it fluttered wildly through the air, tumbling directly toward our carriage. Chu Ming Ze spun around with lithe agility, leaping upward to snatch the fluttering paper neatly from mid-air. He lowered his gaze to inspect it, a single brow arching upward in amusement, before he handed it over to me. I looked down. The face captured in the ink was unmistakably my own. Neatly inscribed right beside the likeness was a stark line of characters:

Searching for the runaway concubine of the Prince of Wei.

I was so incensed that I nearly laughed out loud. With a swift, fierce motion, I crumpled the portrait into a tight ball and tossed it straight out of the carriage window.

Who on earth is his concubine! Has he completely lost his mind?

Chu Ming Ze stood beside me, observing the scene, and managed to deduce seven or eight parts of the truth. A playful smirk touched his lips as he curved them into an amused smile. With the practiced flourish of a street magician, he effortlessly produced a brush, some ink, and a sheet of fine rice paper. With just a few sweeping strokes, the outline of a human figure materialized on the page. I leaned closer to inspect it. The person he had rendered was none other than the Prince of Wei himself, captured with an uncanny seven-part resemblance. Beside the drawing, he added his own bold, unrestrained inscription, the strokes sweeping wildly across the paper like flying dragons:

Searching for the male consort of His Majesty.

I was stunned into silence for a moment before I finally burst into a fit of genuine, unrestrained laughter. Chu Ming Ze tilted his head to look at me, the corners of his eyes and the arch of his brows brimming with the bright, dazzling warmth of youth.

Does this finally quench your anger?

We managed to slip through the city gates just moments before they were sealed for the night. Chu Ming Ze took the reins, driving the carriage northward along an endless stretch of road, until we finally arrived within the domains of the Prince of Zhao. Here, I found myself appointed as the chief strategist to the Prince. The people in this land were remarkably warm and earnest, and not a single soul looked down upon my humble origins. Every time our paths crossed, they would bow respectfully and address me with unwavering deference:

Strategist Su.

Yet, deep within my heart, I knew the truth all too well—I knew virtually nothing of military strategy or tactical warfare. All I possessed was the foreknowledge of the tragedies and triumphs that would unfold over the next decade, though I remained entirely ignorant of how best to steer or survive them. If I simply drifted along like this, disaster would inevitably follow. Thus, every single day, I forced myself to spend three to four grueling hours poring over military treatises and historical texts, desperate to learn. Chu Ming Ze, too, was relentlessly busy. Between drilling the troops, inspecting the perimeter defenses, and executing various assignments, there were times when days would pass without me catching even a glimpse of him. Yet, whenever he managed to carve out even a fraction of time, he would invariably make his way to my quarters. He would sit with me, sharing lighthearted jests and presenting me with curious little trinkets he had stumbled across during his patrols. Occasionally, sensing that my long hours of studying had drained my spirit, he would coax me away from the desk to wander beside the tranquil lakes, taking in the scenic vistas simply to clear my weary mind. The relentless effort I poured into my studies was driven by a grim reality: the Prince of Wei had also been granted a second lease on life. Like me, he carried the memories of tomorrow. He knew precisely which years would bring devastating floods, which winters would unleash merciless blizzards, and which rival princes would gradually rise to claim ultimate power.