Chapter 3 — The Fox Spirit Grand Preceptor Comes to Repay His Debt

When he turned and caught sight of me, he was momentarily stunned. Regaining his composure, he moved to drop to his knees in a formal salute, but I caught his arm, stopping him before he could descend.

“This palace is traveling incognito; dispense with the formalities, General.”

Qin Baichuan gave a slight nod, making no further attempt to kneel. My gaze fell upon the massive armful of flowering branches cradled against his chest, and a sudden flutter of anxiety stirred within my heart. I had not imagined that so many maidens harbored secret affections for him, though, upon reflection, it was hardly surprising. Qin Baichuan had claimed the title of martial champion at a remarkably tender age, whereas the capital was overflowing with fragile, scholarly youths from noble households. A man of his stature offered a profound and comforting sense of security.

“Young General Qin, these floral branches are a token from this palace.”

He froze in utter astonishment. Then, observing the vivid flush burning across my cheeks, he finally understood the romantic nature of my declaration. The expression that settled over his features was deeply complicated, and he offered only a single, measured reply:

“Your Imperial Highness, the night grows late. You should return to the palace without delay. This subject takes his leave.”

With those words, Qin Baichuan departed. I stood alone beside the city moat, shivering as a sudden gust of wind swept across the water, though the chill in my heart bit far deeper than the autumn air.

“What is this? Have you finally met your comeuppance?”

The deeply irritating voice of Ye Tianmiao drifted from behind me, though I lacked the emotional fortitude to engage in a petty dispute with this cunning fox. When he saw the heavy tears brimming in my eyes—crying until I resembled a smeared, weeping kitten—he let out a reluctant, helpless sigh, reached into his robes, and drew out a handkerchief, holding it out to me.

“You always wept so easily when we were children. It seems growing older has done nothing to change you into anything other than a tearful little kitten.”

Vexed, I snatched the handkerchief from his hand and aggressively wiped away both tears and mucus, sparing no regard for the fabric. After all, this was Ye Tianmiao’s handkerchief; if it became thoroughly ruined, so be it. Yet, once I finished scrubbing my face, a sudden realization struck me. The cloth felt hauntingly familiar. Was this not the exact handkerchief I had once used to bind his wounds? I recalled, with a jolt of mortification, that I had even used it to wipe his backside when we were children; surely it was entirely improper to use it for wiping my face now! The lingering sorrow of my recent rejection instantly evaporated, and I glared at the man beside me, grinding my teeth in incandescent rage.

“Ye Tianmiao, you stay right where you are!”

5

As the old adage goes: if one is unfortunate in matters of the heart, one must inevitably triumph in the scholarly arena. During the preliminary examinations at the Imperial Academy a few days prior, I had performed far beyond my usual standards, effortlessly outshining the vast assembly of imperial princes. My imperial father was overjoyed, going so far as to host a grand banquet in celebration. On the surface, he claimed it was merely an opportunity for the civil and military officials of the court to gather and converse, but in reality, he spent the entire evening boasting of my academic prowess to everyone he encountered. He declared that he had always known I possessed extraordinary intelligence, a daughter who brought immense honor to his name, unlike the crown prince, who spent his days brawling, idling away his time, and wandering about with hunting dogs. From the empress down to the prince’s own birth mother, Consort Qu, the boy was practically held in such low regard that even the stray dogs would turn up their noses at him. Father even remarked that had I been born a man, passing the imperial throne to me would be far from a poor choice. The gathered ministers, well aware that His Majesty had partaken too freely of the wine, prudently kept their silence, quickly steering the conversation toward safer topics. But words spoken without intent are often caught by listening ears; the crown prince, standing nearby, fixed me with a gaze burning with venomous hatred.

6

Word of my brilliant talents had not yet reached the ears of the common folk, but the scandalous news of my romantic overture to Qin Baichuan by the moat—and my subsequent rejection—spread through the capital like wildfire. Within a day, the entire city was abuzz with malicious gossip. Some condemned me as utterly devoid of shame, asking what woman in her right mind would ever lower herself to confess her feelings to a man. Others argued that Qin Baichuan had committed a grave offense against imperial dignity, asserting that the favor of the eldest princess was an immense privilege and that his refusal was nothing short of treasonous audacity. Yet, none of these outcomes aligned with what I desired. On that fateful evening by the moat, aside from myself and Qin Baichuan, the only other soul present had been Ye Tianmiao. Knowing him as I did, however, he was not the type to spread such tales maliciously. Determined to uncover the truth, I meticulously washed the handkerchief from that day and made my way to the Grand Tutor’s estate, resolved to demand an explanation. A servant escorted me to the study and discreetly withdrew. Through the heavy panels of the door, I heard Ye Tianmiao’s calm, unhurried voice floating outward.

“On that night, this subject indeed witnessed Her Imperial Highness the eldest princess and Qin Baichuan by the banks of the city moat…”

Overwhelmed by a mixture of fury and panic, I kicked the study door wide open. True to my suspicion, he and my imperial father were seated together. He was actively lodging a complaint against me. In a fit of blind rage, I hurled the handkerchief onto the floor.

“Ye Tianmiao, you truly live up to your name as a cunning fox spirit! Even I was nearly deceived by your facade. No matter how meticulously you disguise yourself, you will never truly become a decent human being.”

A flash of genuine hurt flickered through his eyes. Whether out of shame or lingering guilt, he turned his head away, unable to meet my gaze. My imperial father, conversely, was thoroughly displeased with my outburst, his voice dropping to a harsh, frigid tone:

“Sosuo, do not be so insolent toward the Grand Tutor.”

Even at a moment like this, my father still chose to side with that wretched fox. Lifting a hand to brush away the hot tears pooling in my eyes, I turned and fled into the night. I was to be sacrificed in a political marriage of appeasement. Ye Tianmiao was nothing more than a consummate liar. All those promises that studying diligently would spare me from such a fate were empty words. Already, eight imperial princesses had been sent across the northern borders to the nomadic tribes, yet those barbarians still harbored restless ambitions of rebellion and bloodshed. With the court currently lacking capable commanders, my imperial father advanced in age, and the crown prince lingering as a worthless idler devoid of any genuine achievements, the nomadic chieftains had deliberately demanded the hand of the eldest princess in marriage, their primary objective nothing less than the deliberate humiliation of the imperial court. I wept for hours, begging my father to spare me from this desolate fate, but the gentle indulgence he had once shown me had vanished entirely. He looked down at me with cold detachment and said:

“The imperial household does not feed the useless.”

The destiny of the political marriage had been sealed beyond redemption; it was simply that my soul refused to surrender to the cruel arrangements dictated by my father.