Chapter 4 — The Jade Robe and Old Dreams

No one else could ever wear the color green quite like her and bring out its inherent ethereal grace.

The carriage had already rolled away into the distance, its sound lingering in the spring air, fading from crisp to a soft murmur.

14

The grand floral viewing banquet was hosted within the sprawling imperial gardens, where vibrant blossoms and the lively breath of spring filled every corner. Noble matrons gathered in small circles, exchanging bright smiles and polite inquiries. I was speaking in gentle tones with my husband when a sudden, clear peal of laughter rang out from behind us. Turning my head, I instantly recognized the young woman from the carriage earlier. Her figure was slender and willowy, and even from behind, her silhouette bore a striking seven or eight parts resemblance to my own. Several people stepped forward to greet her, yet she met them with an air of cold indifference, offering only the most perfunctory, aloof replies whenever she bothered to answer at all.

It was only later that I learned her true identity: she was the legitimate daughter of the esteemed Duke's estate, answering to the name of Qin Maoqiong. Cultivated within the seclusion of her boudoir since childhood, she was thoroughly accomplished in the arts of the zither, chess, calligraphy, and painting. On the very day of my wedding, Zhao Zhezhu had caught wind of her whereabouts and rushed frantically to find her, subsequently bringing her into the Eastern Palace. Although an official imperial decree had yet to be issued, her ascension to the position of Crown Princess seemed an absolute certainty. Common gossip throughout the capital whispered endlessly of the Crown Prince’s devoted infatuation, with many claiming he had boldly declared:

She alone is all I need.

These rumors spread like wildfire. When they finally reached my elder sister’s ears, the fury drove her to fall violently ill. I heard the gossip as well, yet remained entirely silent. In my past life, he had spoken those exact same words to me, though under circumstances entirely opposed to the present. Back then, I had just entered the Eastern Palace. When the servants addressed me as a secondary consort, he furrowed his brow in irritation and proclaimed:

Why call her a secondary consort? There is no difference between you; from now on, address both of you as Crown Princess.

At the time, I foolishly imagined he was trying to elevate my status. Only later did I comprehend his true meaning:

The two of you sisters are cast from the exact same mold; Us cannot tell you apart, nor do we care to. In Our eyes, the two of you are nothing more than a single person.

Upon discovering the truth, my elder sister had burst into my chambers, her eyes ringed with angry, inflamed tears.

Shen Qingci, are you finally satisfied? Have you simply been waiting all this time to take my place?

I had longed to explain myself, but she refused to listen. Slamming the door shut behind her, she departed and did not speak a single word to me for months on end.

15

I pulled back my gaze, refusing to grant her any more attention, but she had already noticed me. Looking me up and down from head to toe, she arched a delicate brow.

This lady looks rather unfamiliar. May I ask to which noble household you belong?

I am the wife of Lu Chu, a compiler at the Imperial Academy, born of the Shen family.

Shen?

She paused in thought.

Could you be from the Shen family of the Anyuan Marquis estate?

Indeed.

She resumed her sweeping inspection, her eyes lingering critically.

That explains it. I heard that the Shen household has two daughters—one married into the Eastern Palace, while the other wed a humble imperial compiler. So it turns out the remaining one is you.

Though the color green is striking, not everyone possesses the ability to wear it well. In the future, Madam should perhaps consider changing to a different hue.

The surrounding area fell into an instant, heavy silence. Every eye present converged upon me. Lowering my gaze, the corners of my lips curved upward in a faint, detached smile.

Qin, you may not realize this, but the color green is, at its core, nothing more than an ordinary shade.

Since it is merely an ordinary color, it naturally belongs on ordinary people. Anyone can wear it, and anyone can make it look pleasing.

Yet the exact same color, when draped across different individuals, will inevitably evoke entirely distinct temperaments.

I raised my eyes to meet hers, speaking in a measured, distinct tone:

The green garments worn by you, Lady Qin, naturally appear radiant, flamboyant, and intensely arresting upon your person.

As for the green attire I wear upon myself, it asks for nothing more than to remain modest and unassuming—so utterly ordinary that it fades entirely into the background.

The moment those words left my lips, the expressions of the onlookers shifted subtly. When they turned their gaze back to her, their eyes held a new depth of calculation. The smile on her face fractured, impossible to maintain any longer, yet her lofty status forbade her from making an overt scene. Unwilling to entangle myself any further, I turned to leave, but her voice pierced the air once more:

Hold on.

She swept forward, blocking my path.

I have long heard that the literary talents of the second young lady of the Shen family are truly extraordinary. Since fortune has granted us this rare encounter today, why not engage in a friendly contest of skill?

A ripple of low whispers immediately spread through the crowd. I met her challenging gaze head-on:

What manner of contest does Lady Qin propose?

Zither, chess, calligraphy, painting—take your pick of any.

Those pastimes are far too commonplace.

How about we... skip stones across the water instead?

She blinked, momentarily stunned:

What?

Skipping stones across water.

I repeated the words clearly.

There is a small pond behind the imperial garden, and its banks are strewn with countless smooth stones. Each of us shall take ten stones, and whoever manages to make a stone skip the greatest number of times across the surface of the water shall be declared the victor. It is simple, fair, and will hardly disrupt the harmonious atmosphere of the day.

She stared at me, her eyes overflowing with unconcealed disdain:

You expect me, the legitimate daughter of a Duke's illustrious house, to lower myself to a game of skipping stones with you?

Does Lady Qin perhaps lack the courage?

She bit her lower lip, glancing nervously at the gathering crowd around us. After drawing in a deep, sharp breath, she gritted her teeth and accepted the challenge:

A contest it is, then.

We made our way to the edge of the pond. I bent down first to select a smooth stone, angling my body, swinging my wrist with a fluid motion, and sending the stone skimming low across the glossy surface. The stone bounced a consecutive seven times before finally sinking beneath the ripples. Brushing the dust from my palms against the hem of my skirt, I turned my head to look directly at her.