Xie Chichun - Chapter 30

On the way out of the palace, Xie Yue kept suppressing her sobs. Finally, once they passed the palace gates, she could no longer hold back—covering her mouth, she ran forward as if desperate to escape.

Xie Xuan was delighted to see her humiliated, hoping this would teach Lady Luo not to casually use her for personal gain again.

Strolling leisurely to the moat, she gazed at the shimmering water and the drooping willow branches. When she glanced toward her family’s carriage under the willow shade, she spotted a familiar figure—none other than the ever-persistent Han Jie.

He must have just finished his shift, still dressed in his splendid qilin uniform, though without his official hat or his Yuehua blade. Seemingly puzzled by Xie Yue’s tearful dash into the carriage, he shot Xuan a questioning look, mouthing, “What happened?”

“The princess scorned her,” Xuan replied with a quiet laugh. Then she asked, “Brother Yujie, why are you here?”

“I was just on my way to visit Uncle Xie. Seeing your family’s carriage here, I thought I’d wait so we could go together.”

It was clearly another one of his “waiting-by-the-tree” tactics. Xuan stepped onto the footstool and entered the carriage, where Xie Yue sat curled in a corner, hugging her knees and weeping. She had arrived full of hope and excitement, only to be mocked and dismissed by the Fifth Princess. Now, her sobs grew even more miserable—so much so that she didn’t even notice Xuan entering.

Outside, the driver cracked his whip, and the carriage rolled forward, with Han Jie riding alongside on horseback.

Xuan sat for a while, but Xie Yue’s incessant crying grated on her nerves. She loathed Lady Luo to the core and had no sympathy for Xie Yue either, so she simply tuned out the noise and closed her eyes to rest. Yet after a while, the crying became too irritating. She lifted the side curtain to distract herself with the passing scenery—only to find her view blocked by a familiar profile.

This Han Jie!

His horse kept pace with the carriage, and for a long stretch of the journey, his tall, straight-backed figure and long legs remained squarely in Xie Xuan’s line of sight. Unwilling to engage with him, she huffed and yanked the curtain shut, closing her eyes again to rest.

Yet even as Xie Yue’s intermittent sobs filled her ears, her mind kept drifting back to Han Jie’s silhouette—that familiar, infuriating figure. She had once known every inch of his body: the arrow scar on his waist, the knife mark on his thigh. He had held her on his lap, whispering intimate words, their cheeks brushing tenderly.

These wretched memories!

Agitated, Xie Xuan turned over, forcing herself to think of something else.

By the time they returned to the Duke of Heng’s residence, the sun was already dipping low in the west. Han Jie went off to pay his respects to Xie Zhen, while Xuan and Xie Yue headed back to the Pear Courtyard.

Xie Yue, her eyes red and swollen, had dashed ahead, and by the time Xuan arrived, she could already hear her wailing inside to Lady Luo: “…None of them like me! The Fifth Princess only plays with Xie Xuan…”

In the western annex, Xie Jun was waiting. As soon as Xuan entered, she pulled her aside. “What happened? Xie Yue came back crying, saying you stirred up trouble and turned the Fifth Princess against her.”

“And you believe her?” Xuan scoffed, handing her outer robe to Fangzhou. After washing her face with warm water, she sat down to let Muye redo her makeup, then explained, “The Fifth Princess has been doted on by the Imperial Consort since birth—of course she expects everything to revolve around her. At first, Xie Yue managed to hold back, but the moment she saw something nice, she tried to snatch it before the Princess could. How could Her Highness not be annoyed?”

“As long as it wasn’t your fault, it’s fine. I’m just worried she’ll go complain to the Old Madam again and make you the one who suffers.”

Xie Xuan snorted. “Let her go and tattle. Do I look afraid of her? Today, she tried to steal the spotlight from the Fifth Princess in front of Prince Jin, making Her Highness unhappy. If this gets out, she’s the one who’ll be in the wrong, not me.”

Dinner came and went without any commotion from Lady Luo or Xie Yue. It seemed Lady Luo had chosen to keep her head down, not daring to stir up trouble again.

Only Xie Yue remained sulking, her eyes still brimming with tears during the meal. In the end, she never went to complain.

Later, when Xie Zhen asked about the matter, Lady Luo quickly covered it up, never mentioning Xie Yue’s grievances or bringing up the idea of taking her into the palace again.

However, just because she kept quiet didn’t mean the Old Madam was unaware.

That day, Xie Yue had run out of the palace in tears, and the maids accompanying her—under the Old Madam’s orders—naturally reported everything truthfully.

Though the Duke of Heng’s household still held its noble title, none of the three current masters had achieved much, and Xie Zhen, the head of the family, was even known for his eccentricity. The only reason the estate maintained its prestige was largely due to the favor of Noble Consort Wan in the palace—someone they absolutely could not afford to offend. Thus, the Old Madam paid extra attention to matters involving the Consort. After discreetly inquiring with the palace attendants, she learned that Xie Yue had angered the Fifth Princess.
This was unacceptable!

The Old Madam had never genuinely cared for anyone—she simply doled out favors to those who flattered her. While she had previously indulged Lady Luo and Xie Yue, when it came to the imperial family, things were entirely different. Compared to the Fifth Princess, Xie Yue was utterly insignificant!

When the family gathered at Rongxi Pavilion to pay their respects, the Old Madam brought up the incident and sternly reprimanded Xie Yue. Even Lady Luo, who had been treading carefully, was scolded. When she tried to defend herself, she only provoked even greater fury.

After the Old Madam finished berating them, she snorted in anger and swept into her inner chamber, leaving the rest of the room in stunned silence.

Lady Luo and her daughter, rarely subjected to such harsh words from the Old Madam, were momentarily at a loss. They tried to follow her inside to explain but were stopped at the door curtain.

Xie Xuan watched the drama with amusement, then glanced over just in time to catch a fleeting smirk on Lady Yue’s face.

Infighting among the schemers? Now that’s a good sign.

Not long after, news arrived from the palace: the Emperor was set to visit the Yu Mountain Villa for a period, and as per tradition, he would bring along meritorious officials and their families for hunting and horse-racing events.

In the Duke of Heng’s household, the Old Madam was too old to attend, and Lady Luo, still under punishment for her repeated missteps, was excluded. It was decided that Lady Yue would take the sisters instead.

On the seventh day of the eighth month, the imperial procession departed the palace, advancing in grand formation toward Yu Mountain.

Yu Mountain lay northeast of the capital, just over twenty li from the nearest city gate, Fuchengmen. Since the emperor had built his retreat there, the commoners within a ten-li radius had been relocated. The best land was reserved for the imperial palace, surrounded by winding rivers and rolling hills, while the remaining estates were gifted to meritorious nobles. Spacious and picturesque, it was truly an ideal place for leisure and revelry.

Emperor Yuanjing, now in his fifties, adored lively gatherings. His procession included the palace orchestra, attendants from the Six Bureaus, and a full ceremonial guard, their banners fluttering as people and horses bustled about the resort grounds.

The Xie family’s carriages trailed far behind the imperial entourage. After settling into their assigned estate, they made their way to the main palace.

The resort had gates on all four sides. Lady Yue led Xie Xuan, Xie Jun, Xie Shan, and Xie Jiu through the grounds, occasionally bumping into familiar faces. Lady Luo, still serving her daily noon punishment of kneeling in the ancestral hall, had stayed behind, as had Xie Yue, chastised by the Old Madam for offending the Fifth Princess. Xie Pei from the third branch, as quiet and reserved as her mother Lady Sui, also hadn’t come.

Ahead, Xie Zhen and Xie Yu walked side by side with Xie Hong, Xie Ze, and Xie Dan.

It was midday, and the elite families of the capital had gathered in force. Silks and satins shimmered everywhere, adorned with gold hairpins and silver ornaments. The men, required to attend separate banquets, wore court robes if they held official rank. Noblewomen, expected to pay respects to the empress and the two accompanying imperial consorts, dressed formally—though not in full ceremonial attire—their dignified elegance a dazzling sight.

The Yu Mountain resort sprawled across vast grounds, its pavilions and palaces arranged to follow the natural contours. At its heart lay an expansive lake, named Yu Lake after the mountain.
To the west were polo fields and racecourses; to the north, dense woods and hills ideal for hunting. The southern sector housed grand halls and open waterfront spaces for imperial banquets, while the eastern area featured charming residential compounds modeled after southern water towns, with canals crisscrossing private courtyards.

The midday sun shone brightly, occasional wispy clouds drifting across the sky as a refreshing breeze lifted everyone’s spirits.

The banquet was already prepared. Rows of round tables with six stools each lined the lakeshore, stretching endlessly. The Court of Imperial Entertainments had assigned seats based on pre-submitted guest lists, and palace maids and eunuchs now guided attendees with practiced efficiency.

Xie Xuan wove through the tables, marveling.

Truly, this was an era of peace and prosperity—extravagant, luxurious, and brimming with splendor. A single imperial feast like this, treating thousands of nobles, likely cost tens of thousands of taels of silver.

Whatever Emperor Yuanjing’s flaws in handling his harem or heirs, he had poured his heart into governance. Though eunuchs and the grand secretaries had grown influential in recent years, decades of diligent rule had left the treasury overflowing and the people largely content—a rare achievement.

But thinking of the Crown Prince’s eventual rise, Xie Xuan’s smile faded.

In this life, she wanted not only to protect herself but also Xie Dan. In her past life, the Duke of Heng’s household had been destroyed because of her uncle’s folly. If Xie Dan could inherit the family legacy properly this time, she couldn’t let history repeat itself.

Part of her even wished the Crown Prince would meet an untimely end before ascending the throne. But what could a teenage girl do to alter the course of the empire?

At least the Crown Prince’s reign was still a decade away. Much could change in that time.
For now, she’d focus on surviving the present.

As the women took their seats, the Xie family’s table had one empty spot—reserved for Han Caiyi.

Han Caiyi’s mother, the Marchioness of Jingchuan, had her own seat among the high-ranking noblewomen. Caiyi’s elder half-sister, as meek and homebound as Xie Shan, hadn’t come either.

Given their families’ close ties, Han Caiyi was delighted to join them. After greeting Lady Yue and the sisters, she plopped down beside Xie Xuan, squeezing her hand. “We meet again!”

Xie Xuan grinned, just as Lady Yue asked, “Caiyi, is your mother here too?”

“Yes, she’s over there—” Caiyi pointed toward the cluster of noblewomen. “She mentioned missing you on the way here.”

“It has been too long,” Lady Yue agreed. “We must catch up later.”

Soon, the master of ceremonies announced the banquet’s commencement. After lengthy rituals, the feast began.

When it ended, the emperor—weary from travel—retired, instructing everyone to regroup at dusk for the night banquet. In his youth, Emperor Yuanjing had led campaigns against the Tiele nomads and admired their nighttime feasts around bonfires. Though he couldn’t replicate that in the capital, he’d adapted the concept here, with lanterns and torches illuminating music, dances, and acrobatics.

As Lady Yue’s group lingered, the Marchioness of Jingchuan arrived, guided by a young eunuch.
Beaming, the marchioness exchanged pleasantries with Lady Yue and lavished praise on the Xie sisters—Xie Jun’s grace, Xie Shan’s gentleness, Xie Jiu’s charm, and Xie Xuan’s delicate beauty.

Finally, she took Xie Xuan’s hand. “Are you fully recovered, Xuanxuan? When your grandfather came to us last time, I was so worried! I visited your estate twice these past months but never saw you. It’s been weighing on my mind.”

Xie Xuan stood stiffly, mumbling polite thanks.

“So formal!” Lady Yue chuckled. “If not for fate’s twists, you’d be calling her ‘Mother’ by now.”

Xie Xuan lowered her head, inwardly scoffing.

Thank Buddha that didn’t happen. In this second life, she had zero interest in being the marchioness’s daughter-in-law again. Memories of the woman’s relentless nitpicking flooded back—less outright vicious than Lady Yue’s schemes, but just as exhausting.

Marrying into that family? Pure torment.

Hiding her emotions, Xie Xuan clung to Xie Jun’s arm as they strolled.

Han Caiyi noticed her tension. “Are you unwell?”

“Probably drank too much tea earlier,” Xie Xuan said, forcing a smile—just as Han Jie approached.

Off duty now, he’d changed out of his qilin uniform into a dark, intricately patterned summer robe, black boots, and an exquisitely carved bronze hairpin. Tall and poised, he radiated energy.

“Finally free?” the marchioness asked.

“Mother. Madam Xie.” Han Jie bowed, his gaze naturally settling on Xie Xuan and Caiyi. “Tang Lingjun just caught a bunch of turtledoves and is roasting them. Join us?”

Xie Xuan was about to refuse when Caiyi grabbed her hand. “Yes!”

Ahead, Lady Yue and the marchioness smiled indulgently. The thought of being stuck with them made Xie Xuan’s skin crawl. At least roasted game sounded more appealing than forced small talk.

She turned to Xie Jun. “Sister, are you coming?”

Xie Jun hadn’t originally planned to go. As someone soon to be married, she couldn’t afford to act as carefree as the younger ones. But worried about Xie Xuan, she agreed. “Then I’ll accompany you. Second Sister, Third Sister, will you join us?”

“We’ll pass,” Xie Jiu and Xie Shan said in unison.

Xie Shan, ever reserved, dared not act up in front of Lady Yue, while Xie Jiu, too proud and aloof, scoffed at the idea of roasting turtledoves like some rowdy child. The two sisters thus followed Lady Yue and the Marchioness of Jingchuan, chatting and laughing as they departed.

Meanwhile, Xie Xuan, Xie Jun, and Han Caiyi followed Han Jie toward the northern woods. Unable to contain her curiosity, Caiyi asked, “Brother, what’s planned for tonight’s banquet?”

“The usual—lanterns, bonfires, music, and dances.”

“I saw boats prepared by Yu Lake earlier.”

“Then there’ll be a lake tour.” Han Jie turned to Xie Xuan and Caiyi. “Boating at night is risky. You’re both too young to wander alone—stay with me.”

Xie Xuan pursed her lips. “I’m not getting on any boat!” She tugged Caiyi ahead, leaving Han Jie behind.

Han Jie chuckled, then said to Xie Jun, “With so many people tonight, it’s best to avoid the boats unless necessary. Keep an eye on Xuanxuan.” Unlike Xie Xuan, Xie Jun didn’t bristle at Han Jie’s advice. Sensing his repeated warnings might hint at hidden concerns, she nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

Tang Lingjun had caught over twenty turtledoves and even bagged two rabbits.

After burning that caterpillar painting, Xie Xuan’s opinion of Tang Lingjun had shifted slightly. Though mischievous, he was at least entertaining. Eyeing the prepared game, she teased, “The hunt isn’t until tomorrow. Aren’t you afraid the emperor will scold you for starting early?”

“I didn’t eat enough at the banquet,” Tang Lingjun retorted shamelessly. “Can’t a man hunt a snack?”

Xie Xuan blinked in surprise, but Caiyi laughed. “You were at the imperial banquet! Those are dishes prepared by the royal chefs, and you still didn’t eat enough?” She shook her head in mock dismay. “You look so lean—do you need an entire roasted lamb to feel full?”

“You have no idea. Banquets before His Majesty are…” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “Torture.”

Han Jie seemed to agree but stayed silent, while Caiyi pressed, “How so?”

As Han Jie crouched to light the fire, Tang Lingjun explained, “Too many rules, no time to eat. When the emperor announces the feast, you all just stand and bow from afar, but I have to kneel and thank him. Every time he bestows wine, tea, or a dish, we all have to kneel again, listen to endless flattery, and by the time we rise, the food’s cold!”

His irreverence made Caiyi giggle. Han Jie shot him a warning look. “Don’t overdo it.”

Caiyi smirked. “He dared hunt turtledoves before the official hunt—what wouldn’t he dare?”

Tang Lingjun grinned, utterly unrepentant.

Xie Xuan knew little about Tang Lingjun beyond his father being a celebrated hero. Watching the group roast the game, she retreated to Xie Jun’s side. “Sister, why does he act so boldly?”

“His father, Tang Zun, was extraordinary. After he died for the country, the emperor never forgot him and treats Lingjun with special leniency.” Xie Jun, well-versed in court affairs from Grandfather Xie’s teachings, guided her to a pavilion and explained.

“About twenty years ago, though the emperor worked diligently, the border remained unstable. While the people grew prosperous, our armies kept losing battles. The Tiele’s Southern Domain King was especially fearsome, raiding yearly and once nearly reaching the capital. Our generals all failed against him, forcing the emperor to send the Crown Prince as a hostage to Tiele, along with annual tributes of silver and silk.”

—A humiliating compromise, though no one called it that outright.

Xie Xuan nodded. She’d heard of that Southern Domain King. In her past life, the Han family had guarded Yanming Pass against his forces.

Xie Jun continued, “Then, in Yuanjing’s 19th year, General Tang Zun defeated him for the first time. After that, he grew unstoppable—his tactics unpredictable, his courage unmatched. By the next year, the Crown Prince returned, and our dynasty regained its pride. For years afterward, Tang Zun guarded Yanming Pass, intimidating not just Tiele but all western tribes. With the borders secure and the emperor’s diligent rule, the people thrived without fear of invasion.”

“Then how did he die?”

“No one knows for certain. In Yuanjing’s 25th year, at just twenty-seven, he fell in battle. A terrible loss. But the elite cavalry he trained remained invincible. When the Southern Domain King attacked after his death, he was crushed and nearly killed. No one dared challenge us again.”

Xie Jun’s voice brimmed with admiration. “General Tang was a once-in-a-century talent. Born a commoner, he was posthumously ennobled as a count—a rare hereditary title. Even now, the emperor remembers him fondly, hence Lingjun’s privileges.”

“No wonder he’s so audacious…” Xie Xuan murmured, glancing back at the group. Just then, Tang Lingjun stood, holding a freshly roasted turtledove on a skewer.

Dressed like any young noble, his jade pendant swinging at his waist, he exuded unrestrained vitality—a wild breeze in human form.

Xie Xuan and Xie Jun sat downwind, and the aroma wafting over was irresistible. Originally uninterested, Xie Xuan now eyed the food contemplatively.

Before she could move, Tang Lingjun strode toward her, waving the skewer with his usual grin. “Hey, scared you last time. This turtledove’s my apology.”

He hadn’t reached her when Han Jie appeared behind him, also holding a roasted bird—clearly intending to offer Xie Xuan the first taste.

Translator Note:
Dear readers, Sorry for the late update. I am currently running a bit tight on my schedule but will try my best to update.
Bows Deeply.