Chapter Three: The Lantern Festival

"Miss, today is the Lantern Festival. Shall we go out tonight to admire the lanterns?" Yingli asked Zhanyan with an eager face. Yingli was only twelve this year, a girl Zhanyan had purchased to attend to her daily needs. Zhanyan rarely took her out; the young girl was clearly restless from being cooped up for so long.

"Very well, we'll go out in a while," Zhanyan replied, unable to refuse when faced with such expectant eyes.

"Wonderful!" Yingli cheered, her joy unrestrained. Zhanyan couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at her innocent expression. It seemed she had never truly experienced a childhood herself. In her previous life, she was a prodigy—skipping grades, studying abroad, then pursuing further studies in law. She was always striving for excellence, never pausing to enjoy the simplicity of childhood. At twenty-two, she began working, and her days became an endless stream of cases and responsibilities, as if she was destined to be perpetually busy.

Perhaps the heavens had pitied her hardships in her past life and granted her a chance to live anew. She thought she could finally savor her childhood, but fate placed her in yet another environment that demanded caution and strategy, where she could only hope to carve out a peaceful corner for herself. Now, it seemed, she could at last relax a little. Zhanyan's lips curved into a gentle smile, her mood evidently light.

"Qingyun, get ready—we're going out," Zhanyan announced cheerfully.

"Yes, miss." Seeing her mistress in such fine spirits, Qingyun too felt her heart lift.

The three of them strolled slowly within the bustling crowds. This year's Lantern Festival was as lively as ever; people marveled at the myriad lanterns, their faces aglow with happiness. Zhanyan stopped before a lantern riddle stall, her interest piqued by the riddles written on the lanterns. The elderly stallkeeper approached, smiling kindly. "Miss, would you like to try your hand at the riddles? If you solve the one on any lantern, that lantern is yours."

Zhanyan nodded with a smile, carefully surveying the lanterns. The old man's lanterns were all beautiful, each one unique in shape and design. One in particular caught Zhanyan's eye: painted on its surface was a wintersweet blossom, upon which perched a purple butterfly. A smile played on her lips at the whimsical sight—the wintersweet bloomed only in winter, yet here was a butterfly, braving the cold. On the lantern was inscribed: "Upon returning from the flowers, the butterfly lingers at the knee."

Zhanyan mused that these riddles were not particularly difficult. She decided she would take this lantern. Picking up the brush from the old man's table, she wrote her answer—'Cyperus'—upon the lantern, then turned to the old man with a smile. "Sir, I like this one. I’ll take this lantern."

The old man, seeing her answer, grinned with delight. "Certainly, I'll take it down for you right away. You have a good eye, miss. This is a new design I made this year; the others are all from last year."

"Jin, I want that lantern. Go and get it for me." As the old man was taking down the lantern, a young girl's voice rang out. Zhanyan looked up to see a girl of about fourteen or fifteen, clearly the daughter of an official family, elegant and refined in bearing, though her eyes betrayed a willful nature. Beside her stood a young man of seventeen or eighteen, tall and handsome, the very sort to set many a maiden's heart aflutter. Zhanyan spared them a glance, then turned back to accept the lantern from the stallkeeper, thanking him with a smile.

"Hey, can’t you understand what I said? I already told you I wanted that lantern—why are you taking it?" The girl was clearly referring to the lantern in Zhanyan’s hands.

Zhanyan pretended not to hear and walked on. She had no patience for spoiled young ladies—since when did liking something mean others must yield it to you?

The girl, incensed at being ignored, strode over and blocked Zhanyan’s path. "Leave the lantern here."

"Qing, don’t be rude," the young man beside her said, displeasure in his voice.

"But Jin, I really do like that lantern," the girl protested, unwilling to relent.

"Miss, my sister has taken a fancy to the lantern in your hand. Might I trouble you to part with it?" The young man addressed Zhanyan with polite courtesy.

"Yingli, give her the lantern," Zhanyan said calmly.

"But, miss..." Yingli began, reluctant.

"Give it to her," Zhanyan commanded, her tone firm.

"Yes," Yingli replied, handing over the lantern with obvious reluctance. Qingyun remained silent throughout.

"Let’s go," Zhanyan said quietly, striding away.

"Miss, please wait," the young man called after her.

Zhanyan turned, saying nothing, waiting for him to speak.

"Thank you for relinquishing the lantern. May I ask your name? I would like to return the favor someday." The young man gazed at her refined and elegant features, his smile warm and courteous. He searched his memory but could not place this beautiful young woman among the city's noble families, so he decided to ask her directly.

"It’s only a lantern. There's no need to repay me." Zhanyan continued on, paying no heed to the young man’s stunned expression.

Perhaps His Highness the Fifth Prince had never been so thoroughly snubbed before. But what did it matter? Zhanyan had no desire to become entangled with the royal family; she wished only to live quietly and unnoticed.

Indeed, Zhanyan knew exactly who they were—the Emperor’s fifth son and third daughter: the Fifth Prince, Zhong Yijin, and the Third Princess, Zhong Qingyuan. She was a native of this world, not intimately familiar with every noble, but she knew enough. The Fifth Prince was the son of Consort Xiao Shufei, who herself was the eldest legitimate daughter of the Marquis of Loyal Valor, Xiao Jing, a man greatly favored by the Emperor. The Third Princess, Zhong Qingyuan, was also Consort Xiao’s child. For this reason, Zhanyan was determined to avoid any involvement with them and hurried away, hoping not to leave any impression. Yet, while she wished to be forgotten, others did not necessarily wish to forget her.

"Jinming, follow her and find out which family she belongs to," Zhong Yijin murmured to the air.

"Yes, master," came the reply from the hidden guard, who slipped away after Zhanyan.

"Qingyun, let’s go to Comfort Garments," Zhanyan said quietly, a trace of resignation in her eyes.

"Miss, you do need some new clothes—spring is here, and you haven’t bought any new outfits yet," Qingyun replied with a knowing smile.

Comfort Garments was the capital’s most famous dress shop, known for unique designs and exquisite tailoring. Each garment was one of a kind, and noble ladies considered acquiring one from Comfort Garments a great delight.

"This way, miss, please come in. We have many new spring styles—I’m sure you’ll find something you like." The young, beautiful proprietress greeted Zhanyan with a radiant smile.

"Lanshu, your service is as attentive as ever, and your smile just as sweet. You seem even more charming than you were a few days ago," Zhanyan teased as they entered the inner room.

"Miss, you’re teasing me again," Lanshu replied helplessly.

"Someone’s following me. I’m going upstairs for a nap; take care of it for me," Zhanyan said lazily, heading straight for a room on the second floor.

"Yes, miss," Lanshu replied dutifully.

The true owner of Comfort Garments was Zhanyan herself.

The shop had four floors, and Zhanyan had designed a room for herself on the fourth. She entered unhurriedly; the room was spotless, its furnishings exquisite. She sat by the street-facing window, which was crafted from special materials allowing her to see out without being seen from outside. A table stood beside the window—Zhanyan liked to sit there, sipping tea, eating pastries, and observing the ebb and flow of people below.

"Qingyun, why do you think he’s having someone follow me?" Zhanyan asked idly, as if it were a matter of no consequence.

"Perhaps he’s just curious, since you so rarely go out." Or rather, so rarely go out openly, Qingyun added silently.

"How tiresome—to feel the need to investigate every person you meet. Isn’t it exhausting?" Zhanyan pouted.

"Perhaps it’s because your bearing is rather striking," Qingyun offered, though she herself was puzzled. By rights, her mistress’s current face was attractive but not remarkable enough to draw undue attention.

"Whatever the reason, I want no trouble."

"Understood. Lanshu will know what to do; don’t worry, miss."

Prince Jin’s Residence

"Master, the young lady entered Comfort Garments. With so many people coming and going, I lost track of her—she simply vanished," the hidden guard reported gravely to Prince Jin.

"You may go," the Prince replied, frowning, his tone betraying clear displeasure. If even such a simple task could not be accomplished, perhaps it was time to replace his people.

"Lihun, go find out why Prince Jin was following her," came a deep, shadowed voice from a private room in the restaurant opposite Comfort Garments. The man, clad in an ink-black brocade robe, stood by the window, gazing out.