Volume One, Chapter Seven: The Journey Northward.
“Hmm?”
Ye Tian’s hand holding the teacup froze mid-air.
Su Changqing?
What is he doing here?
His daughter just ran off, and now he shows up? To intimidate? Or to plead?
A flicker of amusement crossed Ye Tian’s eyes. He was curious to see what tricks this old fox was trying to play.
“Let him in.”
Moments later, Su Changqing hurried in, cradling an exquisitely embroidered box, his face painted with just the right amount of anxiety and remorse.
“Your Highness, Elder Minister Su Changqing pays respects to the Crown Prince.”
He bowed deeply, lowering himself as much as possible.
“My failure as a father has caused my daughter to speak out of line today at the teahouse and offend Princess Qi. I am filled with dread and have brought a humble gift to ask Your Highness and the Princess for forgiveness!”
Ye Tian looked at Su Changqing’s earnest face and sneered inwardly.
Acting!
Keep acting!
Your precious daughter is currently being chased like a dog by my guards, and you still have the leisure to put on this show?
But his face instantly shifted to one of magnanimity and warmth. He descended the steps and helped Su Changqing up.
“Oh dear, Minister Su, what are you doing! Please rise!”
“Qingge is still young, and Qingxue is a good child as well. A little quarrel between sisters is normal—no need for the Minister to come in person.”
He clasped Su Changqing’s hand with genuine warmth, as if they were family.
“Come, come, sit and talk.”
He cast a glance at Ye Qingge, who, though resentful, knew better than to interrupt and reluctantly bowed before stepping back.
In the great hall, only the Crown Prince and the Minister remained.
“Minister Su, we are officially sovereign and subject, but in truth, like family. Such minor matters need not weigh on your mind,” Ye Tian said with a genial smile.
Su Changqing’s face was full of grateful tears. “Your Highness is so magnanimous; I am deeply grateful. Alas, it’s my fault for neglecting her upbringing. Qingxue is stubborn by nature and often ill.”
He sighed just enough, worry etched on his face.
“Now that autumn deepens and the weather turns chilly, her old cold sensitivity has flared up again. I was truly worried, so I decided to send her to our southern estate to recuperate, avoid the chill. Just now, I dispatched someone to escort her out of the city.”
“Oh? To the south?”
Ye Tian’s smile stiffened imperceptibly upon hearing “south.”
His men had reported she left through the northern city gate!
This old fox is deceiving me?
No, wait!
Ye Tian’s mind raced instantly.
A feint to the east while striking to the west!
On the surface, she left the north gate to draw his attention, but in reality, she quietly escaped through another gate to the south!
What a cunning old fox!
Rage boiled within Ye Tian, itching to immediately order all southern roads sealed.
But he couldn’t.
He was currently engaged in pleasant conversation with Su Changqing; if he suddenly gave such an order, wouldn’t he be admitting he was hunting Su’s daughter?
What face would he have left as Crown Prince?
He forced down his fury, maintaining a warm smile.
“I see. What a pity—I was planning to invite Sister Qingxue to the East Palace’s autumn banquet in a few days to showcase her talents. But health comes first, health comes first.”
Su Changqing hastily cupped his hands. “Thank you for your concern, Your Highness. When my daughter recovers, I will personally have her visit to express gratitude.”
Their words flowed seamlessly, the atmosphere utterly cordial.
Yet beneath the calm surface, a torrent of undercurrents surged, laden with deadly tension.
After some half an hour of polite exchange, Su Changqing took his leave.
Ye Tian personally escorted him outside, watching his unhurried, composed retreat.
Only then did the smile fade from Ye Tian’s face, replaced by a brooding storm ready to erupt.
“Bang!”
He stormed back inside, kicking over the rosewood table beside him!
“Su! Chang! Qing!”
The words were squeezed out through gritted teeth.
He had been played!
Made a fool of by this old fox!
Not only had he failed to capture Su Qingxue, but Su Changqing had also cornered him in the East Palace, calmly orchestrating everything while Ye Tian was powerless!
The bitter rage nearly drove him mad!
“Bring me someone!”
He roared.
“Order an investigation! Search all of Jiangnan if you must—find Su Qingxue for me!”
“Also!” A venomous gleam flashed in his eyes, “Watch Su Changqing closely! If he wants to protect the Su family, then I will start by peeling a layer off him!”
An unprecedented murderous intent swept through the East Palace.
Meanwhile, an inconspicuous carriage mingled with a merchant convoy leaving the city, rolling along the northern road, heading the same direction as the prisoner transport carrying Ye Xuan.
The jolt of wheels over cobblestones was finally replaced by the steady smoothness of a dirt path.
Inside the carriage, fragrant incense could no longer mask the chill of dust and wilderness creeping through the window.
The clamor of the capital was left far behind.
Su Qingxue’s taut body relaxed imperceptibly.
She knew she was out of the city.
For now, safe.
“Uncle Zhong, where are we now?” her cold voice sounded, tinged with faint fatigue.
Outside the curtain came an aged, respectful voice.
“Miss, we have passed ten li beyond the north gate and entered the official road. I have mingled with a merchant convoy heading north as per the master’s orders; we won’t attract attention.”
“Thank you, Uncle Zhong.”
Su Qingxue nodded lightly, though her gaze involuntarily fixed on the direction the carriage was heading.
That direction was Beiliang.
A harsh land that had never once appeared in her previous life plans.
And yet now, it was her only destination.
In her mind, the image of the figure lying in the prisoner cart earlier that day surfaced.
Disheveled, wretched, barely alive.
Yet strangely, she felt beneath that broken body, a dormant tiger stirred.
Especially her father’s cryptic words—“That exiled Eighth Prince may not be as simple as he seems”—cast ripples across her heart.
After a moment of silence, she seemed to reach a resolution.
“Uncle Zhong.”
“I’m here, Miss.”
“Can we go faster?” Her voice was soft but resolute, leaving no room for doubt. “I want to… catch up with the convoy that left this morning.”
Uncle Zhong’s hand on the reins paused briefly.
That convoy?
The prisoner transport of the Eighth Prince?
Though puzzled, as an elder of the Su household, he knew what to ask—and what not to.
“Don’t worry, Miss,” he answered solemnly, without a word wasted. “I will do my best.”
With that, his wrist flicked, the long whip cracked sharply in the air but did not strike the horse.
“Giddy-up!”
The well-trained steed seemed to understand its master’s will, hooves pounding, pulling the unremarkable carriage forward with sudden speed, kicking up a yellow dust dragon along the official road, racing fiercely toward the distant north.
…