The court of the Tian Sheng dynasty did not enforce literary inquisitions. The people enjoyed a measure of freedom in their speech.
During the reign of the Late Emperor, a scholar once shared his thoughts on state affairs in a teahouse. By sheer coincidence, his words reached the ears of the then-Prime Minister—a man known for cherishing talent. The Prime Minister repeated the scholar's words verbatim to the Late Emperor.
Recognizing brilliance in those remarks, the Late Emperor bypassed the imperial examinations entirely and directly appointed the scholar to office. That tale had since become a lauded anecdote in scholarly circles.
That same aspiration stirred the indignation in today's scholar. Partly, his anger was genuine. But more critically, it was driven by the sight of the ornate carriage before him—a vehicle so extravagant that one glance revealed its noble origin.
He assumed that someone of high status within the imperial court must be seated inside. Only yesterday, at a teahouse, he had overheard discussions from the Capital Weekly mentioning how Princess Sheng An had initially faced staunch opposition from senior officials when she was first granted a court position.
It was only after she bested the Minister of Revenue on her own merits that she was appointed as Head of the Merchants' Association.
Thus, in a bid to ingratiate himself with what he believed was a court noble inside the carriage, the scholar forced himself to stand his ground—despite the imposing figures of Li Tiezhu and his fellow guards. He summoned all his courage to deliver a lofty, impassioned performance.
He had not anticipated, however, that the one seated within the carriage was not some great official, but rather a child who looked to be no older than eight or nine.
What made matters worse was that this child not only scolded him fiercely, but even stood on Princess Sheng An's side.
What nonsense was this about him fearing he'd lose to a woman in the examinations?
Laughable.
He may have failed the provincial exams last autumn, true—but no matter what, he was certainly superior to some ignorant woman.
Where on earth had this insufferable brat come from?
"Is that the Sixth Prince?"
As the scholar stood there, face dark with resentment and ready to retort, he heard someone whisper from behind.
"We saw him once during the opening of Tian Waitian Restaurant, didn't we? Isn't this exactly what he looked like?"
"Seems so."
Another man replied, voice low and somewhat nervous.
"If it really is the Sixth Prince… then could it be that Princess Sheng An is also in the carriage?"
What?
The Sixth Prince and… Princess Sheng An?
The moment that title reached his ears, the scholar's hand trembled beneath his oversized sleeves.
"No… impossible…"
He tried to convince himself.
"Surely such a coincidence is too much. There's no way that is truly—"
Before he could finish that sentence, a small hand reached out from the carriage and pulled the still-grumbling Sixth Prince back inside.
The curtain fluttered down like a silken wave. It was but a fleeting glimpse, yet—
"I knew it!" the whisperer up front hissed with glee. "Princess Sheng An must be in there too. If it were only the Sixth Prince, I might have doubted myself. But the two of them together—there's no mistaking it."
"Good thing we only spoke well of Her Highness," someone added. "The carriage lingered here quite a while. Who knows, maybe she even remembered us."
"Hmph, we rough folk don't matter much either way. But that one…"
One man pointed gleefully at the scholar.
"He's probably scared out of his wits right now."
Thud!
Almost on cue, the scholar collapsed to his knees, legs giving way as cold sweat drenched his back. Not a word escaped his lips.
"Tch. Useless."
Yun Chuhuan had just pushed the curtain aside, ready to hurl one last insult, when he caught sight of the kneeling scholar. His interest deflated instantly, and he let the curtain fall again.
"I thought he had some courage in him. Collapsing already?"
"Nowadays, scholars only aim for official posts. He likely believes he's offended someone important, and now all hopes of office are gone."
Yun Shu didn't even spare him a glance.
Yun Chuhuan, on the other hand, muttered a few more words under his breath.
"Well, he's right that his future's ruined. But it has nothing to do with us—it's simply that he's useless."
Someone who connives in private, flatters the powerful, and can't even read the room—how clever could he possibly be?
Did he really think Fifth Sister joined the court simply because she wanted to?
It was Imperial Father's will that made it so.
This scholar was utterly foolish.
Shaking his head, Yun Chuhuan said, "Fifth Sister, you said you wanted to hear the people's thoughts on the new trade tax. Now that you've heard enough, shall we be off?"
"We're already nearby. Might as well stop by the Right Prime Minister's manor," Yun Shu replied, popping a small pastry into her mouth. "If we go now, we should catch Shen Jingshu right as she boards her bridal sedan."
"Excellent! I've never seen a wedding procession before!"
Yun Chuhuan beamed. "They say it's quite the spectacle!"
"You're probably thinking of when a principal consort weds."
Yun Shu replied casually, not especially familiar with such customs.
"Shen Jingshu is only a side consort. Many rituals will be omitted."
"No, no. My Consort Mother told me—it's different for the Crown Prince's side consort. The wedding rites may be simplified, but the dowry procession is left to the bride's family to arrange."
Yun Chuhuan shook his head earnestly.
"My Consort Mother entered the palace as the Crown Prince's side consort. I heard my maternal grandfather cried terribly during the wedding. He followed her bridal sedan all the way to the palace gates. When the first trunk of her dowry entered the palace, the last one hadn't even left the Prime Minister's manor yet!"
"Consort Noble Liu married Father Emperor when he was still Crown Prince?"
Yun Shu blinked, surprised.
"Prime Minister Liu cherished your Consort Mother so dearly. Why would he allow her to marry only as a side consort?"
"At the time, Grandfather Emperor's health was failing. Father's brothers had all passed. He was the sole heir—his ascension was all but certain."
Yun Chuhuan explained solemnly.
"Besides, my Consort Mother's marriage was a direct imperial decree from Grandfather Emperor. Neither she nor my maternal grandfather had a say in the matter."
"No wonder."
Yun Shu nodded.
But her current Crown Prince elder brother did not sit as securely as her Imperial Father had in those days.
Moreover, Shen Jingshu's standing in the Prime Minister's household likely fell far below what Consort Noble Liu held in the Liu family.
What kind of family, truly fond of their daughter, would let her do such a thing with the Crown Prince in a public restaurant just for the sake of some calculated plan?
Utterly false.
Having already seen through the farce, Yun Shu had no expectations of any grand spectacle from the Right Prime Minister's manor today.
Yet even so, when she laid eyes upon the sparse few red cloth banners hung listlessly outside the gate, a flicker of genuine shock crossed her face.
The Right Prime Minister's household was colder than she had imagined.