This temple on the hill was a haven of tranquility, its prominent wooden chapel visible from afar, adorned with ancient and historically valuable murals. Yang Jiurong had been kneeling and praying there since dawn until afternoon, yet her grandfather had sent no one to fetch her. Her legs were numb from sitting so long, prompting her to trick the maids that watching her.

    "Sister Su, I've been smelling incense all day. My head is spinning..."

    "Oh no, open the windows right away." One of the maids told the other.

    Yang Jiurong lifted her gown to shield her face, swayed, and spoke with tired voice. "I'm so thirsty. I'd like a cup of tea. Ah... I feel dizzy."

    Then she clumsily knocked over the teapot, spilling it all.

    "Oh, I'm so thirsty. Water. Please get me some water."

    "Yes, yes, my lady, I will bring it right away. As Yang Jiurong feigned fainting to the floor, the maids panicked and scattered to their tasks, one to open more windows for fresh air to enter the chapel, the other to fetch drinks. Yang Jiurong chuckled mischievously and escaped through the window. When the maids returned, the young lady had vanished.

    "No more. No more praying for this year."

    Yang Jiurong outran the maids' sight, sat on a stone bench to rub her aching legs, and then strolled around the temple at ease. It was clean and peaceful, as Yang Gong had people assist the monks in its upkeep. She caught sight of her grandfather climbing the stone steps with a stern-looking young man. Realizing she would be scolded, she quickly sought refuge back inside the chapel.

    "This is bad. That's the fearsome butler."

    She paused on the balcony, peering down to see her grandfather's ally and Uncle Jing's men filling the area. Yang Jiurong ducked out of sight, then, when the pathway was clear, she strode down another staircase descending the hillside. To enter was to face scolding; to avoid it was also to face scolding. So why enter at all? Better to flee.

    Amidst the row of pine trees, where the wind carried twirling leaves into the air, at the foot of the stairs to the chapel, a young man appeared, holding an ordinary paper umbrella used by the common folk. Tall and robust, he exuded a masculine aura, his thick brows and piercing eyes filled with an imposing presence, giving all who saw him the impression of a dragon.

    This man was Zhao Chenfeng, the crown prince of the Zhao Region.

    His demeanor as he ascended the steps was gracefully majestic, a rarity. Dressed in simple, dignified blue attire with a jade pendant dangling from his belt, a timely gust of wind tousled his jet-black hair, endowing him with the aura of a powerful deity. His sharp gaze fixed forward, he stopped by the temple wall, where a young girl was precariously hanging.

    He seemed ready to walk past her indifferently, so she called out to him with a trembling voice.,

    "Hey, won't you even ask if I need help?"

    "Why should I ask?"

    His voice was deep and melodious, almost musical. His sharp eyes surveyed the girl's trembling body, afflicted with cramps. Zhao Chenfeng remained silent, a man of profound silence and depth, difficult for many to read. But Yang Jiurong was able to.

    "Stop wasting time wondering why I'm here. Just help me already. I'm about to die."

    "What are you doing?"

    "Climbing the wall, obviously. Please catch me, my arm is cramping." She said, not noticing his concealed face under the umbrella. She grimly endured the cramp, looking pitiable. "Namo-tassa, I'm about to fall. Please help me."

    "No, I must go."

    The tall figure walked away coolly, but Yang Jiurong's strength was waning. Her legs dangled a body's length above the ground, so in a bid for survival, she swung her legs around his sturdy shoulder, stepping to find footing. Once stable, she tried to pull him back, hoping to place her other foot on his shoulder as well. This was the first time he encountered her, and whenever he would reflect on this day, he'd find himself touching his shoulder, lost in silence.

    "Just a little more, please move closer."

    With both feet firmly on his broad shoulders, she balanced precariously, too afraid to let go of the wall. Her weight wasn't much, but it incited a great annoyance in Zhao Chenfeng, who remained silent, only to fold his umbrella and tap her delicate waist lightly. That made Yang Jiurong tumble awkwardly from the wall, got a few scrapes, feeling both pain and embarrassment.

    Before she could cry out from the hurt, the strong, muscular figure stood towering before her, casting a looming shadow like a great cliff. Yang Jiurong looked up to meet his stern gaze.

    "What a heartless person, utterly rude."

    "You're the one who is rude first. No lady ever thinks to climb the temple walls and hook a man's shoulders with a leg like you did."

    "Well, now there is one. If you had just helped me from the beginning, all would be well. Seeing someone in trouble and not aiding them hardly makes you a man!"

    "You brought this upon yourself. Why blame me?" His gaze was indifferent, yet he couldn't help glancing at her small lips, petite nose, elongated eyebrows, and snow-white skin, all mixing with her bold words and fiery eyes, signaling she wasn't a timid, demure girl but a kitten that would grow into a tiger.

    "Escaping from the temple, did your parents plan to make you a nun?"

    "Not at all."

    "But I think so. Stand up, I'll take you to join the nunnery ceremony." His strong hand gripped her wrist and pulled her up, his rough touch indicating a man more accustomed to swords than brushes. Yang Jiurong grimaced, attempting to free her wrist, unwilling to accept his help.

    "As you wish." His face was stern, betraying no emotion, and he felt no need to linger there any longer, thus he continued up the stone steps.

    "Wait! I am Yang Jiurong. Aren't you going to apologize? Tell me your name this instant. I will complain to my grandfather!" Yang Jiurong shouted defiantly. She did not know who he was, hence, her posture brimming with haughtiness, using her grandfather's status to intimidate, even though she knew she was in the wrong.

    "Yang Jiurong?"

    He halted abruptly and turned back, his demeanor charged with energy. Yang Jiurong instantly sensed he was there because of her specifically. Although she didn't know this man, the girl felt no fear.

    "Is your grandfather Yang Gong?"

    "Yes."

    Yang Jiurong tilted her chin even higher, straightening her neck to show defiance, signaling that she wouldn't be easily bullied. Another reason was to make it clear to him that even if she were to sit in the dust until she aged and died, she would not ask for his help again. Zhao Chenfeng watched her, quickly assessing the young woman before him. Even though his gaze was stern, a dangerous smile played at the corner of his lips. "So, you are the renowned Miss Yang, famed for her beauty. But I think you resemble a wild boar more."

    "A wild boar?"

    "Do you know what a wild boar does when it faces an enemy? It puffs itself up, stamps its feet, and grunts threateningly." Yang Jiurong's mouth fell open in shock, her expression looks as if the world was crumbling down, yet her face still turning red, which only made him smile even more. His lips twitched slightly.

    "You would appear more valuable if you didn't act like a fox claiming the majesty of a tiger. But I will remember your name, and we shall meet again soon."

    The tall figure opened his umbrella and descended the stairs, not bothering to enter the temple. He left Yang Jiurong stewing over the 'wild boar' comment, a sting that penetrated deep into her chest. It was so painful and humiliating that she would have preferred to suffer from cramps and die by the wall. She gathered her strength to stand but couldn't, so she sat crumpled until Sima Wushuang, another daughter of Sima Jing, found her.

    "Jiu Rong, why are you sitting on the ground?" She quickly ordered a maid to assist her, then fetched a handkerchief to wipe her face and eyes.

    "Sister Wushuang, do I really look like a wild boar?"

    "You silly girl, where did you get that idea? You are the top beauty of Gaoshan." Wushuang laughed heartily, tears streaming down her face. Her smile was bright and lovely, a renowned beauty of the capital, with zither skills rivaling those of Yang Jiurong. "Someone teased you about looking like a wild boar? Maybe, when you puff your cheeks and bare your teeth, your face does resemble one."

    "Sister Wushuang."

    "Alright, alright, I'll stop teasing. You sitting here alone means you've sneaked out for fun again, haven't you? You're going to get scolded by Aunt."

    "Mother won't scold me, but grandfather might." Yang Jiurong sighed deeply, finally feeling strong enough to walk. Wushuang then escorted her down the hill to the Yang Manor. "Did you also come to pray, Sister Wushuang?"

    "Not really, just playing backup." Wushuang hurried her along the balustrade. "Look there."

    When they looked where Wushuang pointed, down at the foot of the hill, they saw Jiaojiao standing by a carriage, her father, Sima Jing, conversing with a proud-looking distinguished man. Jiaojiao swayed unsteadily, as if about to faint, her maids struggling to steady her as she refused to accept the help.

    "See the man talking to my father? That's Prince Zhao Lu. Consort Qi Guifei is my aunt, so the prince is somewhat like a cousin to me. Handsome, isn't he?" Yang Jiurong, still puzzled by Wushuang's hint, she asked her what she meant by that. But Wushuang shushed her and told her to keep watching.

    "I respectfully bid the prince farewell."

    After Sima Jing finished his business, he respectfully sent Prince Zhao Lu to his carriage. Jiaojiao also bowed gracefully, then, at the right moment, she fainted into the prince's arms, her face a mix of shock and shyness. She quickly apologized, then excused herself and scurried onto her father's carriage, while Prince Zhao Lu watched her depart with a tender gaze. Although propriety forbade him from mentioning this to Sima Jing, it was clear the prince was smitten with Jiaojiao.

    "The main act played her part perfectly, so the understudy like me gets to escape." Wushuang shrugged, while Yang Jiurong looked confused since she did not understand.

    "Sister Jiaojiao and the prince..."

    "Can't you see? Sister JiaoJiao was enticing the prince, and she succeeded. Women can see through each other's female subtleties, but I don’t know why men seem clueless."

    "And Uncle Jing didn't scold her?"

    "It was Father's instruction for us to act. It doesn't matter what color the cat is, as long as it catches mice. Sister Jiaojiao will likely become a bride soon. As for me... Father will probably arrange for me to marry some general's son and I'll have to do the same as Sister Jiaojiao." Wushuang spoke indifferently as if it were none of her concern. "What about you? Has your grandfather eyed someone for you?"

    "No way, it just can't be."

    "Don't be so sure. Perhaps Master Yang Gong also set his sights on Prince Zhao Lu. That is why he called you to the temple."

    Yang Jiurong's face blanched with panic.

    "No, Sister Wushuang. I don't want to get married. I will absolutely not marry in such a manner."

    Wushuang shook her head, offering cold comfort, "I don't wish it either, but we're past the age of childish complaints. This is the fate of daughters from prominent families. You can't escape it, Jiu Rong. Accept it, and you might grow to love each other."

    "Is it really that simple? What if he's a bad man, cowardly, selfish, caring only for wine and pleasure, isn’t that mean we have to suffer in hell for the rest of our life?"

    "I don't know either. We can't just defy our elders."

    "Won't you even think about resisting? I know you've always been a good, obedient child, but this is the most important decision in our lives."

    "Don't worry too much. The adults will surely choose someone good for us."

    Yang Jiurong fell silent, neither agreeing nor objecting. She just wanted to control her own destiny, not to be arranged and manipulated like a lifeless doll. Noticing her cousin's downcast expression, Wushuang invited her home.

    "You must be fleeing from Master Yang Gong. If you're afraid of being punished, hide at my place for now. We can return tomorrow morning; I'll have Xiao Zhu inform your family."

    "But I shouldn't..."

    "Don't mind others. My grandfather mentioned missing you the other day. You are his descendant, you should show some filial piety, that's proper. Master Yang Gao won't mind."

    "That sounds good, actually. I haven't seen grandfather in a long time."

    The Sima Manor is located in the northern part of the city, closest to the royal palace, a testament to their ancestors' significant roles in Zhao Region's governance across generations.

    Now, the head of this household was Sima Zhao, a close advisor to the emperor and an advocate for Prince Zhao Lu. He was a master strategist. Xianfei, the emperor's most beloved concubine, was offered by him.

    Though over seventy, Sima Zhao's eyes still sparkled with vitality, his white beard flowing down to his waist. His grand residence wasn't bustling with maids as he preferred solitude. The furniture was ancient, polished to a sheen, and most rooms were kept locked and silent, fostering a sense of fear among the children about the stern Sima Zhao.

    "Naughty granddaughter pays respect to you, grandfather."

    "Jiu Rong, you haven't visited in so long."

    Sima Zhao beamed upon seeing his favorite grandchild, hastily rising from his recliner. Though he was cautious around Yang Gao, he always enjoyed conversations with Yang Jiurong, who was curious and affectionate, talented in literature and poetry, making her elderly company's delight. He quickly ordered treats for her, and Yang Jiurong knelt to show him a beautiful mask she bought, singing the vendor's tune to evoke his laughter.

    "What? There was a lunatic who dared to say my granddaughter resembles a wild boar. Wah, ha-ha!"

    "Grandfather, you must be angry for me!"

    "Yes, I'm furious! Who's this fool? Bring him here; I'll reward him."

    "You're so mean, Grandfather!" Yang Jiurong puffed her cheeks and imitated a pig's snout with her finger. "See? I don't look like it at all!"

    "Haha." Sima Zhao continuously praised her, saying she was as vivacious as the late grandmother, no doubt about it. Just back from the temple with her father, Jiaojiao heard her grandfather's laughter and immediately knew her distant cousin was again currying favor to claim some inheritance.

    "Isn't Sister Jiaojiao going to greet Jiurong?" Wushuang called out to her older sister.

    "No need. Let her amuse grandfather all she wants. She's just an outer family grandchild; I don't understand why she has to show up so often, so loud, so annoying. Just seeing her makes me want to vomit."

    "She's also grandfather's granddaughter. If she wants to visit him here, I don't see what the problem is. Grandfather rarely smiles, and she can make him laugh. You should be grateful to her."

    Jiaojiao pouted and turned back towards the house. Wushuang didn't want to argue anymore, so she ordered the table to be set for dinner with their grandfather. It was a full moon night, creating the perfect ambiance for music. After the meal, the grandfather and his grandchildren went to the veranda to listen to the two granddaughters play the zither. Sima Zhao was delighted, even when going to bed, he was still smiling.

    "So it's Jiu Rong. No wonder I heard the annoying loud zither sound from that far."

    A voice arose, belonging to Aunt Lan or Sima Lan. Just her appearance made Jiu Rong, who was frolicking with Wushuang along the corridor, stop in her tracks.

    Sima Zhao had four children; the eldest was Sima Jing, the second was Sima Jing who entered the palace and became Qi Guifei, the third was Sima Xiang, Jiurong's mother, and the youngest was Sima Lan. This unmarried aunt viewed men as gold diggers and kept herself at a distance. Despite reaching middle age, she maintained her appearance meticulously, her garments impeccable, emanating a strong scent of incense. She looked at Jiurong coldly before stating,

    "Did your mother send you to claim the inheritance?"

    "Not at all, Auntie. I'm just visiting grandfather."

    "Hope that’s true. I've seen enough of those who say they want nothing but then can't take their eyes off wealth." Sima Lan sneered and continued, "Your mother should know, once daughters are married off, they shouldn't return to squabble over family wealth. You think sending a representative to claim more is going to fool me? I see right through it."

    Jiu Rong found her aunt daunting as she dominated conversations and was the sole inheritor of their maternal wealth. It been told that the inheritance was immense, and since all female siblings were married off, Sima Lan was the sole holder of the family name and fortune, managing it with an iron fist to prevent any embezzlement.

    Sima Lan flicked ash from her pipe, its handle crafted from ivory, then she pointed it at Yang Jiurong accusingly.

    "Doesn't your own house have enough for you? Why stay here overnight?"

    Jiu Rong remained silent, contemplating escape from the critical remarks. Her mother used to bring her here monthly, but with growing hostility over the years, they limited visits to necessity, instructing Jiu Rong not to disturb this place anymore. Wushuang, having grown up playing with Jiu Rong, knew better and stood up for her.

    "Aunt Lan, I invited her. Aunt Xiang also knew, and grandfather approved. It's late, unsafe to travel. Please don't chase her away."

    "Sigh, your words are very much like your mother's. You should be half as smart as Jiaojiao. I was just teasing. Who would dare harm Master Yang Gao's granddaughter? How long are you planning to stay, dear? You're not intending to sponge off us indefinitely, are you?"

    Sima Lan was merciless, prompting Jiu Rong to endure silently for her mother's sake.

    "The Yang family is as wealthy as ours. Why does Aunt speak as if she's a beggar?"

    "What are you all discussing?" At that moment, a tall, well-built young man with striking features, regal in every aspect, returned from his office while holding Judicial official’s hat. The maids and laborers stopped to bow and admire him as he passed.

    "Brother Tiansong."

    Wushuang immediately smiled when her brother returned at just the right moment. Sima Tiansong was straightforward and adored Yang Jiurong. Being the only son of Sima Jing, he was destined to inherit the family lineage, prompting Sima Lan to look at Yang Jiurong with even more suspicion, fearing she might marry into the family and claim everything.

    "Every bit of your grandmother's estate should rightfully belong to you. I refuse to marry just to preserve the wealth from falling into others' names. Can't you see she plans to usurp your grandfather's fortune? You're all so naïve."

    "She's one of grandfather's grandchildren too. If she is entitled to any part of her mother's inheritance, isn't that just and proper?"

    "Not justified at all. Sister Xiang has married off; she has no rights here anymore."

    "Father once told me that when Aunt Xiang married into the Yang family, grandmother had prepared a personal property for her, but grandmother passed away before it could be sent. Aunt Lan, are you aware of this?"

    Sima Lan's face turned crimson with rage. When she couldn't counter the argument, she stormed back to her house. Wushuang gave her brother a big thumbs up, while Yang Jiurong silently clapped without making a sound. Sima Tiansong then reached for the clown mask Yang Jiurong had purchased.

    "For my trouble" He simply said, then yawned mightily, tired from working sleeplessly for two days. "Have someone call me tomorrow morning. I'll have breakfast with grandfather."

    "Yes, sir."

    "Hey" Wushuang nudged Yang Jiurong the moment their brother passed by. "You were staring at Brother Tiansong non-stop. Got something on your mind?"

    "Mm, I was thinking."

    "Oh my, tell me now."

    "That clown mask was the prettiest on the stall, costing fifteen brass coin. It took me quite a while to bargain it down to five. I'm just regretting it. Brother Tiansong always snatches my toys."

    Hearing the naive response from the beautiful lady, Wushuang felt an immense headache. How utterly oblivious!