Chapter 6 — The Mandarin Duck Kerchief

Ta Chi Yen pulled a weathered jade pendant from beneath his tunic. It hung from a faded red cord, and upon it, one could still faintly discern the intricate peace knot I had tied for him all those years ago.

That year, I had accompanied my grandmother to Yangzhou to offer incense. Along the way, we encountered a group of ruffians surrounding a filthy young beggar, kicking and beating him for allegedly stealing a steamed bun. Unable to watch, I ordered my servants to drive the men away and gave the beggar the sugar cake I had just purchased. The boy was covered in wounds, yet his eyes shone with an astonishing, piercing light. As he took the cake, he rasped, "The young lady’s great kindness shall be repaid in the future." I was merely a child then, dismissing his words as the idle prattle of a boy. I carelessly gave him the jade pendant from my waist, calling it a token, and told him that if he ever struck it rich, he should remember to return it to me. Never did I imagine that such a jest would become reality.

The father of Ta Chi Yen had perished on the battlefield, and his mother had followed him in death, leaving the young boy to wander the streets as a vagabond. Later, a retired old general discovered him, recognized his extraordinary potential, and adopted him as a foster son, teaching him the arts of war and strategy. At sixteen, he joined the army; at twenty, he was ennobled. In just a few short years, he had become the illustrious Marquis of Zhenyuan, a man of great reputation in the Northern Frontier, commanding vast armies that even the Emperor regarded with apprehension. Given his status and the long-standing ties between the Zhenyuan estate and the Su family, this marriage was a stroke of unexpected good fortune.

My grandmother, however, was less than pleased. She harbored a single-minded ambition for my elder sister to become the Empress, and she feared that if I were to marry the Marquis, my sister might find herself constrained and stifled within the palace walls. Yet, she kept her counsel for the time being, remarking only that the engagement felt hurried and required careful deliberation. The very next day, she allowed Ta Chi Yen to deliver the marriage contract, stamped with my thumbprint, leaving nothing to be done but choose an auspicious date for the wedding. Three days after the news broke, Xiao Huai An sent for me.

The messenger was a trusted guard from the prince’s own inner circle. With an expressionless face, he escorted me to the imperial study. Xiao Huai An sat behind his desk, a book held in his hand. As I entered, he lifted his eyes, casting a glance at me that mirrored the one from my past life—a cold, inscrutable gaze that masked emotions I could not fathom. He spoke, his voice low and devoid of tremor, "Do you truly wish to marry Ta Chi Yen?"

"Your Highness, the marriage contract is signed, and the auspicious date is set."

He stood up abruptly, strode toward me in a few swift steps, and loomed over me, his gaze scorching. "You know clearly that I—"

"Your Highness," I interrupted, retreating a half-step to widen the distance between us. "I do not understand your meaning. I met the Marquis once in my childhood, and we have found in each other a mutual affection that is not a mere passing impulse. I implore you to grant your blessing."

Xiao Huai An stared at me intensely. After a long silence, he let out a soft, dry laugh—a sound filled with self-mockery and bitterness. "A single meeting? Mutual affection? Su Ting Xue, do you truly remember nothing at all?"

My heart leapt into my throat, and I looked up sharply. His eyes held an intimate, soul-piercing familiarity, as if he were looking through the woman standing before him to someone else from a past life. That look was all too familiar. In my previous life, as I lay dying, when he clutched a silk handkerchief and gazed into the void, his eyes had held that exact same sorrowful longing. Could it be... had he remembered?

"What do you mean, Your Highness? I am dull and do not understand."

Xiao Huai An did not press me further and merely waved his hand to dismiss me. Three days later was the autumn hunt, where the majority of the capital’s nobility accompanied the Emperor to the royal hunting grounds. Xiao Huai An, clad in black riding leathers, sat atop a pitch-black stallion, racing across the fields amidst the crowd. His arrows never missed their mark, drawing rounds of cheers. Ta Chi Yen was also present, riding a crimson horse with a detached expression, as if he had come not to hunt, but simply to clear his mind.

During the competition, the two men rode side by side, drawing their bows in unison. Having spent years on the battlefield, Ta Chi Yen possessed unparalleled skill in horsemanship and archery. Xiao Huai An could not match him and was soon defeated. The prince’s face turned ashen, his fingers gripping his bow until his knuckles were white. The Emperor, overjoyed, immediately bestowed a reward of a thousand taels of gold upon Ta Chi Yen. The Marquis declined, prostrating himself with a powerful, ringing voice: "I implore your Majesty to grant me the hand of the second daughter of the Su family in marriage."

The Emperor granted the request at once. With bloodshot eyes, Xiao Huai An fell to his knees before the throne. "Father, I also wish to request the hand of the Su daughter to be my Crown Princess!"

The Emperor flew into a rage, scolding him for his absurdity. A Crown Prince, the future sovereign, fighting with a subject over a woman—what kind of decorum was this? Xiao Huai An was ordered to kneel outside the Qianqing Palace for the entire night. The following morning, as he entered the court, his face was pale, his gait unsteady, yet he held his head high, refusing to retract his words. When the news reached the Su estate, my elder sister was busy trying on her newly fashioned wedding robes. Upon hearing that Xiao Huai An had knelt to beg for my hand, the golden needle in her hand pierced her fingertip, and fresh blood stained the embroidered mandarin duck on her cloth a vibrant, aching red.