Chapter 5 — The Mandarin Duck Kerchief

His strides were swift and purposeful. My elder sister, struggling to keep pace while managing her flowing skirts, tripped and tumbled headlong onto the hard ground. A pained, crystalline moan escaped her lips as she clutched at her ankle. "Your Highness, please... I am in so much pain," she whimpered, her voice dripping with practiced vulnerability.

Hearing her call out, Xiao Huai An paused, his gaze flickering back to her for a brief, detached moment before he motioned for a eunuch to escort her to the Imperial Infirmary. Even as she offered him a lingering, soulful look, hoping to stir some dormant flicker of affection, he did not grace her with a second glance. He turned away immediately. Once her figure had retreated into the distance, I felt a sharp, unreadable gaze press against me. I looked up to find the source, but there was no one there; Xiao Huai An had already vanished from sight.

Thirteen.

After we returned to the manor, my sister spent the entire evening lamenting how I had supposedly ruined her private moment with the Crown Prince. My parents, equally displeased, punished me by denying me supper. I did not protest or create a scene; I simply retreated to my chambers, for I had long since prepared my own stash of peach blossom cakes and bird's nest soup. A month drifted by, during which Xiao Huai An made no effort to reach out to her. My sister grew melancholic, bathing her face in tears daily. Three months later, the decree for the Crown Prince’s consort selection was announced. My sister signed up immediately, her spirits soaring. She was delighted that I chose not to participate, assuming I had finally learned my place. However, Mother, fretting over my sister’s lack of composure, insisted I accompany her into the palace, knowing I was more familiar with the imperial grounds than she.

While passing through the back garden, my embroidered handkerchief slipped from my sleeve. As fate would have it, Xiao Huai An found it. During the selection ceremony, he produced the cloth with a flourish, his tone sharp with accusation. "At the Empress Mother’s birthday banquet, you claimed this handkerchief was not yours, Lady Su. Yet, today, I witnessed it drop from your very person. How do you intend to lie your way out of this now?"

Caught in his piercing, interrogative gaze, I felt a tremor of feigned confusion. "That is my sister’s handkerchief. I had forgotten mine, so she lent me hers today."

"Indeed, Your Highness," my sister chimed in quickly, "the handkerchief belongs to me; I gave it to Ting Xue."

Xiao Huai An’s voice remained cold, indifferent to her explanation. "I only believe what I see with my own eyes. Furthermore, as I am selecting a consort, all noble ladies of the appropriate age must attend. Why did the second Miss Su not participate?" His eyes were locked onto mine, harboring a ferocity that brooked no dissent. It was identical to the look he wore in my past life when he interrogated me on my sister’s behalf. Now, he was interrogating my sister on the matter of a handkerchief. It was ludicrous to the point of absurdity. I allowed a faint, mocking smile to touch my lips, meeting his gaze with utter composure.

"I did not participate, Your Highness, because I am already betrothed."

His eyes darkened, his fists clenching as a flicker of panic crossed his features. "To whom?"

I threw out a name, calm as the morning tide. "The Marquis of Zhenyuan, Xie Chi Yan."

Xiao Huai An’s expression faltered; he did not press the matter further. "I see." Xie Chi Yan had spent his life defending the northern borders, his influence vast and his merits overshadowing the court. As the heir to the throne, the Prince could not afford to alienate such a formidable hero.

Fourteen.

My sister failed to become the primary Crown Princess, settling instead for the rank of a secondary consort. The position of the primary consort remained vacant. Throughout the journey home, she wept bitterly, and upon reaching the manor, she locked herself in her room, smashing porcelain until the floor was littered with shards. I found it curious that Xiao Huai An had denied her the title. In my previous life, he had knelt before the Emperor the very day after our first meeting to beg for me to be his consort. The Emperor had despised my low status and my father’s lack of military power, fearing I provided no bolster to the Prince’s position. To prove his resolve, Xiao Huai An had knelt outside the palace for six hours, with the Empress joining him in his plea. Only then did the Emperor yield.

When my father learned I had used Xie Chi Yan as a shield to avoid the selection, he was furious, but punishment served no purpose now. Our families shared a bond forged in blood; in our youth, my father and Xie Chi Yan’s father were brothers-in-arms. On the battlefield, when his father’s life hung by a thread, my father had ignored all warnings to drag him to safety. My father immediately penned a letter to the Xie estate. They replied swiftly, arriving in the capital to formalize the union. My childhood dream had always been to see the Northern Frontier, and the timing could not have been more perfect.

Soon, Xie Chi Yan arrived to propose. He was dressed in robes of midnight silk, his hair bound with a jade crown, a belt of serpent-patterned white jade cinched at his waist. He possessed a presence both cold and commanding, yet he lacked the rugged roughness of a frontier general; instead, he carried the refined elegance of a noble scholar. Every gesture, every subtle smile was profoundly captivating. At the first sight of him, a wave of familiarity washed over me. It was only then I realized: he was the small beggar boy I had saved in Yangzhou so many years ago.

Xie Chi Yan’s lips curled into a gentle, knowing smile. "It has been many years, second Miss Su. Do you still remember me?"