Ming Yi replayed the earlier events in her mind. True, she had been a bit sharp with Judge Zhao, but Ji Bozai wasn’t one to fuss over etiquette. In fact, with his proud nature, he’d probably be pleased she had used his name as her shield. That shouldn’t have upset him.
Was it because she’d spoken too freely, too boldly for her place? No, that couldn’t be it either. Judge Zhao had apologized, and the Prince had rewarded her—she’d gained both face and favor. Ji Bozai should be proud of her.
Then why… why did he seem distant?
Puzzled, she tilted her head slightly, watching him with wide, uncertain eyes.
Ji Bozai glanced at the boxes of rouge gifted by the Prince, then at the girl who sat frozen beside him. His tone softened slightly. “Aren’t you going to thank His Highness?”
Startled, Ming Yi quickly rose and bowed deeply. “Thank you, Your Highness, for your generous reward.”
Prince Qi smiled warmly. “No need for such formality. Please, sit and enjoy. I had the best chefs in the capital prepare tonight’s meal.”
As servants began serving the dishes, Liang Xiuyuan—always quick with teasing—leaned forward. “Your Highness, won’t you accompany the Princess? She’s practically staring holes into your back.”
Prince Qi laughed it off, waving a hand. “She’s unwell, doesn’t drink, and dislikes conversation. Sitting with her would only make the wine go flat.”
Ming Yi frowned faintly, her gaze drifting toward the Princess. The woman sat alone at the main table, the baby’s cradle beside her. She tried to maintain her composure, but the smile on her lips trembled like a wilted flower. Every so often, her eyes darted toward Prince Qi—filled with sorrow and quiet resentment.
Childbirth was said to be a woman’s step through the gates of the underworld. But to survive it, only to be despised afterward—what pain could be crueler? Ming Yi sighed inwardly. If even a princess faced such loneliness, what hope was there for the rest of the world’s women?
Prince Qi’s voice broke her reverie. “I’ve heard that in Yuan County, people often die while gathering ginseng?”
She forced a polite smile. “Yes, Your Highness. The cliffs are high, and blood ginseng grows only in the most perilous places.”
She said no more, quietly lowering her gaze as she picked up a dish and served Ji Bozai.
He took a sip of his wine, his eyes resting on her. She was full of contradictions—timid yet sharp, gentle yet unyielding. Judge Zhao’s stern glare would have made most girls tremble, but she had stood her ground, cutting through his accusations with flawless reasoning. Was that courage born of instinct—or calculation?
Before he could think further, Buxiu approached from behind and knelt beside him.
Ji Bozai rose slightly and turned to the Prince. “I have some matters to attend to. Please excuse me for a moment.”
Prince Qi nodded, lifting his cup. “Go ahead.”
Ming Yi, seeing him stand, began to rise as well, but he didn’t look her way—didn’t even pause. Within moments, he was gone.
She froze, halfway up. Then, feeling a hollow ache in her chest, she quietly sat back down. Lately, he had spoken to her freely, shared even private matters. She had thought… perhaps she’d become someone he trusted. But now, she realized there were still walls she couldn’t see past.
Pouting softly, she turned back to face Prince Qi, who had already resumed chatting.
Meanwhile, in the corridor beyond the banquet hall, Buxiu whispered, “Sir, the remaining ones have been dealt with. I didn’t think we’d trace it back there, so I spared a few. That was my mistake.”
“It’s not your fault,” Ji Bozai replied coolly. “Who would have thought that the girl I picked at random from a banquet would be so clever—sharper than Judge Zhao himself?”
His tone was even, but laced with irritation.
Buxiu’s spine stiffened. The master hated complications. Bringing a dancer from the inner court had been a way to avoid the Grand Minister’s matchmaking schemes. Showing her favor had been a strategy to escape the Prince’s entanglements. Yet, in the end, this girl—this supposed refuge—had become trouble herself. What fate awaited her now?
Back in the hall, the musicians struck up a lively tune. Prince Qi, flushed with drink, turned to Ming Yi. “This song is newly composed. Why not dance to it?”
Ming Yi forced a smile. Why me? She couldn’t dance to save her life. Thinking quickly, she decided—pretending to faint might be safer than performing.
Just then, a maid approached, bowing. “Miss Ming, the Princess invites you to the back courtyard. The stage is set for a play.”
Relief washed over her. She rose and bowed. “Since Her Highness invites me, I shall take my leave.”
Prince Qi’s smile faltered, but with so many eyes on him, he merely waved dismissively.
Ming Yi followed the maid out, the laughter of the banquet fading behind her. The air outside was cooler, filled with the scent of flowers. She exhaled softly. “Thank you,” she said with a smile.
The maid said nothing, walking briskly ahead.
After a few turns, Ming Yi frowned. The path wound deeper into the estate—quiet, too quiet.
“Did you take the wrong way?” she asked.
The maid turned, impatience flashing in her eyes. “The Prince’s mansion is vast. I know the way better than you.”
Ming Yi narrowed her eyes. “I may be gentle, but I’m not a fool. If you can’t explain where you’re leading me, I won’t follow.”
The maid sneered. “You’re just a dancer. What could you understand of noble houses? The stage is farther ahead. If you turn back now, you’ll get lost.”
Ming Yi chuckled softly. “A dancer I may be—but I know when something feels wrong. I think I’ll head back.”
The maid’s face twisted. “The Princess invited you, and you dare refuse?”
“Yes,” Ming Yi said calmly, turning on her heel. “If the heavens fall, Ji Bozai will bear it. I am not his wife—nor am I the Princess’s plaything.”
She had barely taken a few steps when shadows darted from behind. Several men rushed toward her, swift and silent.
Instinct flared—she twisted aside as a sack dropped over her head, narrowly missing. Using her foot, she pushed off the ground, slid between two attackers, and caught herself against a tree branch.
The men froze, stunned. None had expected this delicate-looking woman to move with such agility.
Ming Yi straightened, brushing dust from her sleeve. “Gentlemen,” she sighed. “Why trouble yourselves? We’re all trying to make a living. Why make it difficult for a weak—”
Before she could finish, one lunged at her. She kicked him squarely in the chest. He flew backward with a grunt.
“…woman like me,” she finished calmly.
The stunned men exchanged looks.
Weak woman? With kicks like that, who would dare call her weak?
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