[I… I'm not late… It's still Friday…

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Rong Jiahui had been a bit vexed lately. She had thought that it'd be a good thing to annul that marriage as soon as possible to solve that big problem ahead of schedule, but now, as she thinks of the scene of her parents poring over the names roster to look for candidates for their daughter's husband, she just feels suffocated. She's not even fifteen yet, what's with the anxiety? It's like that now that she wasn't engaged, every day they saw a decent young man they wanted to s.n.a.t.c.h him back and make him her husband.

Following the falling frost came the Thousand-Autumn Festival not even a few days later. The birthday of the Mother Empress would naturally have a big banquet thrown for it, and rumor has it that there's a hundred or more fireworks specially prepared in the palace. When the night gets very late they would all be set off at once, making a magnificent sight.

A banquet like that, for Rong Jiahui, more is less and less is more, and if she doesn't go then she doesn't go, and in previous years everyone let her do as she pleased. This year, however, her parents' att.i.tude towards it is the rare unyielding sort.

After all, it's not just those with fame and wealth coming to this Thousand-Autumn banquet, but characters who currently have a foot in the balance of power in the Imperial Court. By taking their non-betrothed daughter to pay respects to the womenfolk of every family, perhaps a good marriage connection will come for that daughter, and even if one isn't found, getting to know a few female acquaintances won't be bad either. Whenever they think of how that Liu family punk didn't care for their daughter they get angry, and insist upon providing their daughter with someone better than that infuriating self-interested bloke.

Thinking as such, the Rong parents still ended up dragging the unenthusiastic and unwilling Rong Jiahui over to it.

Coming to the palace in the evening, the n.o.blewomen shuffled off to pay their respects to the Mother Empress, and their unmarried sons and daughters were tossed to the imperial gardens.

Rong Jiaze had long since run off to play and joke with kids of his same age. Rong Jiahui was bored, and looked for a random place to sit down.

Bai Lu noticed her downtrodden, sleepy look and can't help but say, “Young Mistress, would you like me to get a cup of tea for you?”

Jiahui shook her head, looking listless. Who'd stil be in the mood to drink tea at a time like this? She's gonna die of boredom, and only hates that she can't go home and go to bed right now.

Just then, an alarmed cry suddenly rang out. “Rong Jiahui?”

Abruptly hearing someone call for her, Jiahui turned her head to look and saw a pretty lady standing far away, none other than her cousin Yu Yixiang. At current, surrounding Yixiang is a gathering of seven or eight n.o.bledaughters, a few with familiar faces.

Yu Yixiang walked over and pulled her up. “I though you'd be at home sleeping again. Come, come, what are you hiding by yourself for? Sister Yang and the rest missed you a bit.”

Jiahui hadn't yet composed an urgent reply when Yu Yixiang pulled her into the pile of aristocratic girls.

It had been more than half a year since the Rong-Liu family's annulment, and it could be said that everyone who had grown ears in the capital knew of it. The girls raised in the lady's quarters have gossiping eight ways from the Dao as their biggest pastime, and now that the concerned party is here, they are unavoidably eager to talk to her, hoping that they could know a bit of the inside story.

After everyone exchanged pleasantries, a delicate maiden was unable to wait any longer and asked her, “Sister Rong, have you been alright these days? When we heard what happened to you, a few of us sisters spent a long time worried for you, and if you were okay. Why did your family cancel an engagement that was more than a decade old?”

The girl who spoke was Count Fenyang's eldest daughter, Qin Yunzhi. Her birth mother had died prematurely, and her stepmother came from a low-cla.s.s family; with the issue of her own upbringing, she didn't teach her very well, which is why she asked this truly unpleasant-to-hear question. Furthermore, even if Rong Jiahui and her had seen each other before, they hadn't said a word to each other, so how could she be worried? And that goes for the little sisters behind her that are nit-picking her right now.

In any case, Rong Jiahui felt awkward, and Yu Yixiang on the side immediately had an unnatural expression flash onto her face.

Jiahui smeared a smile on her face. “I'm very good, of course, no need for Sister Qin to worry. As for the annulment, it was merely because I had happened to catch sight of that Liu family's so-called prettyboy's face and was so enormously disappointed that I simply felt that he wasn't deserving of me.”

Yu Yixiang's charming face at the side immediately went green upon hearing that. She knew this Rong dog's mouth could never spit out anything clean, once she opens her mouth there definitely wouldn't be a word of praise!

Everyone immediately started staring. It's because of that? Some among them have also happened to glimpse that prettyboy's good looks, and only felt that the boy's uniquely splendid with no equal in the world. If she's saying a good man like that isn't deserving of her, then what kind does this Rong Jiahui want? Does she want Pan An to reincarnate? Her goals are truly higher than the sky.

Yet Wen Anying giggles, seizing Jiahui by the shoulder. “Good little sister, that's how you do it! If you don't like him, call it off! Why bother feeling bad for yourself?! I'm going to go someday and sneak a peak at how my fiancé looks too, and if I don't like him, I'm calling it off!”

At that moment, Song Heng s.h.i.+ly pulled at her sleeve. “Cousin, you shouldn't talk like that. If words gets out, Uncle will break your leg.”

Wen Anying said naively, “My leg isn't isn't more important than my happiness, y'know! I heard that he's come here too this time, how about we go off to find him? Whatever family's Young Master we run into, just ask him where the Left Imperial Censor-in-Chief's [1] Young Master is.”

“Cousin…”

Wen Anying couldn't help but explain, and after releasing the Rong Jiahui that had still been in her hold, she pulled Song Heng away, half-dragging and half-threatening her, “I brought you in here, so if you don't come with me and the time comes that I have to go back, but you're not there, I'm going to tell Grandma that you're lost.”

“Don't…” Song Heng said feebly.

Everyone had originally wanted to dig into a bit of background yet ended up looking at this spectacle. That's Wen Anying's style; bold and free as she's always been, with the pitiful Song Heng suffering her pus.h.i.+ness. Watching them go, Yu Yixiang hurried to pull at Yang Qianyu's hand as if seeking some sort of backup.

“Sister Yang, should we be letting Sister Wen take Sister Song to make a scene?”

Yang Qianyu also had something of a headache, using her one free hand to ma.s.sage her temple. “Do you still not understand how Sister Wen works? If she says it's definitely going to rain because it's windy, who could tell her otherwise? It wouldn't be good for you to get pulled in along with them.”

Though this Court never steadfastly divided genders into different areas and this imperial courtyard also didn't specially separate them, there was still a tacit understanding between all parties involved to split the courtyard into two haves in order to avoid arousing suspicions, each side not to visit the other's domain. Wen Anying really is too much of a daredevil.

Seeing as Anying had sprinted off without a trace, Rong Jiahui pulled Yu Yixiang away and said quietly, “Yu Yixiang, are you really not thinking of going with Sister Wen? You might be able to see your prettyboy.”

Hearing that, Yu Yixiang gave her a scolding look. “Rong Jiahui, what kind of nonsense are you saying again?! I'd have to have almost no self-respect to be so obvious!”

Jiahui was just thinking to say a few more things to work her up into a humiliated rage when there was a sudden “ow!” in the distance, and to those listening, the voice was somewhat familiar.

Yang Qianyu was the first to react. “That sounded like Sister Song.”

Their group promptly rushed over to see Song Heng just then being helped up by Wen Anying, her clothes dusty and elbow seemingly sc.r.a.ped, a faint amount of blood seeping out.

Yang Qianyu rushed over. “Sister Song,” she said with concern, “are you okay?”

The tip of Song Heng's nose still had a bit of gray on it. “Sister Yang, my hand hurts bad,” she said pitifully.

Yang Qianyu hurriedly instructed the attendants at the side to bring medicine over. As the Empress Dowager's grand-niece, the internally-decided wife of the current ruler's little brother, she's no small presence in the palace, and her words are much more useful than most's.

Wen Anying looked ruefully at her cousin, then interrogated Xiao Wenyan who was in a crowd not too far away, “Nanping Countess, I know my little sister Ah-Heng wasn't being thoughtful and collided with you, but you shouldn't push her! What if her hand scars?”

Nanping Countess Xiao Wenyan was also somewhat upset. She had been walking from place to place and ended up having this girl knock against her. She pushed back is all, yet what's going on now? Was she actually supposed to grab onto her and not let go? Is she not allowed to even push someone?

Rong Jiahui was lifting Song Heng's sleeve to check on her injury when she turned to look. Oh no, it really is that limpid doe-eyes from her memory; so lovely, yet so annoying.

Wen Anying's gabbering is something Xiao Wenyan exceptionally dislikes. She gives her an indifferent glance. “And who are you?”

Wen Anying stared, yet found it a bit too hard to say. This n.o.blegirl has a status much higher than her own; she normally wouldn't think anything of it, but in this sort of occasion, under the stares of so many people, making her say it… she currently can't find the words.

After a short moment of hesitation, she grit her teeth and said it. “I am… of Count Heyin's home.”

“Count Heyin?” After careful thought by Xiao Wenyan, a person finally came to mind.

“Oh? Why do I recall that Count Heyin only seems to have one daughter, and she was married off to Suzhou some years ago?”

Anying said, “That's my paternal cousin…”

Noticing her friend's voice getting weaker and weaker quickly broke up the problem. “Sister Anying, Sister Song's clothes are torn. Take her to go change them, okay? Also, Sister Song, remember not to let water touch the cut on your hand, or the scar it leaves won't be pretty and you'll be sniveling again.”

The two agree and hurry off.

Xiao Wenyan never gives others any face, yet restrains herself for fear of consequences due to Yang Qianyu being deeply favored by the Empress Dowager, no longer thinking of going after those people. It's just that they've spoiled her rather good mood into a truly rotten one.

Watching Wen Anying and Song Heng depart, Yang Qianyu is all smiles, bowing slightly to the other girls to apologize. “My little sisters were careless and b.u.mped into you, Countess, they were in the wrong. I hope you can forgive them, and not bother with them anymore.”

Hearing that, Xiao Wenyan can't stop from sneering. “Sisters? Such bottom-of-the-barrel people you've recognized as sisters. I suppose you could make a line of them all the way to the city's gate, right? Young Miss Yang, I know you're a person clean and n.o.ble nature, your vision never constrained to secular formalities and attention never paid to the higher and lower cla.s.s, but if they are your older and younger sisters, then one of these days, won't His Majesty's eldest princess and princes have to call them their cousins?”

Despite Yang Qianyu's temper normally being excellent, her face can't help but flash green and white, unsure of how she should speak next.

Fortunately, Xiao Wenyan didn't feel like paying anymore attention to her, and immediately left.

Seeing that she had finally gone, Rong Jiahui let out a sigh of relief from the side. She had nearly eye-rolled there. No wonder this person would be a target of ma.s.s mockery at not being able to get married later on. Her bottled-up annoyance from the olden days had been dredged up.

Yang Qianyu is gentle, kind, and typically benevolent in every respect; anyone who was younger than her, she called them a little sister. Hearing Xiao Wenyan's words at this time was like a bottom-of-the-barrel person using a bamboo pole to overturn a boat.

Waiting with great effort until she went home, Jiahui originally thought that she'd fall asleep the moment she hit the bed, but as she pa.s.sed the study, she immediately wasn't tired anymore. Spreading out paper, grinding ink sticks, and taking up her brush, several hundred characters flowed out from her, telling about what happened with Nanping Countess Xiao Wenyan, many juicy details included. She decides that she'd tell a maid to send it tomorrow; she wants to completely strangle this in the cradle, after all, and can't relax on it for any moment.

Reminder: Count is a n.o.bility t.i.tle, Countess is short for County Princess. There's no such a thing as an actual female Count in ancient China, and the wife of a Count would be just that.

[1] The Imperial Censorate was divided into Left and Right departments, the Left being in charge of checking officials in the capital city.