Bamboo Liquid Pool of the Eastern Palace
Qiao Yihuan, her face bare of makeup, stood near the Bamboo Liquid Pool dressed in a simple, light blue gown, a white cloak draped over her shoulders for warmth.
While she couldn't rival her younger sister's striking beauty, Qiao Yihuan possessed a delicate prettiness all her own. Especially in this unadorned attire, she evoked a sense of vulnerability, prompting an unconscious desire to protect her.
He Zhiyu approached, gently taking the hot water bottle from Jingyuan's hands and offering it to Qiao Yihuan. "Yihuan, have I kept you waiting long?"
A shy smile bloomed on Qiao Yihuan's face as she saw him. "Waiting for Your Highness is no burden, no matter how long it takes. By the way, Your Highness, you mentioned once that you missed seeing butterflies in winter. I've managed to find some and am keeping them safe at home. If Your Highness would like, I can have them sent over another day, if that's alright?"
He Zhiyu nodded slightly, his gaze lingering on her simple attire, then settling on the single, plain silver hairpin adorning her hair. He spoke tentatively, a hint of concern in his voice.
"Yihuan, you are in the bloom of your youth. Why do you always dress so plainly? It seems such a waste of your best years."
Qiao Yihuan offered a gentle smile. "I've grown accustomed to frugality, Your Highness. I don't have much interest in material possessions."
Xiaoying, standing discreetly to the side, couldn't help but mutter softly, "Our Miss is far too kind-hearted. It's common knowledge that Madam has been drastically cutting her allowance, leaving us with barely enough funds to purchase new clothes."
Qiao Yihuan immediately turned, feigning a touch of annoyance. "Xiaoying! You mustn't speak nonsense in front of His Highness!"
Turning back to He Zhiyu, she offered a soft explanation. "Please don't believe her, Your Highness. There's nothing to it. I simply don't enjoy dressing up as much as my second sister, and I don't spend much on clothes and makeup."
He Zhiyu gazed at her with a mixture of pity and admiration. "I believe clothes crafted from Shu brocade would suit you beautifully. I shall have someone select a few colors that complement your complexion and send them to you shortly."
Qiao Yihuan's mouth parted slightly in feigned surprise. Despite her earlier assertion of disinterest, she appeared deeply touched by his words, further amplifying the impression of her gentle and unassuming nature.
This reaction only strengthened Jingyuan's resolve to shower her with even more beautiful things, a silent promise etched in his heart.
"Miss Qiao, the eldest daughter of the Qiao family, really has nothing good about her; she's so pitiful," Jingyuan whispered, his voice laced with a mixture of pity and indignation.
Qiao Yihuan, feigning humility, quickly interjected, "Your Highness, there's no need. Shu brocade is such a fine material. I've never even glimpsed it, let alone adorned myself with it. How could I possibly be worthy of wearing such an exquisite fabric?"
He Zhiyu's eyes turned glacial, becoming as unfathomable as a starlit abyss. Yi Huan has never glimpsed Shu brocade? Only days prior, Qiao Wanyan had casually mentioned that Madam Qiao had gifted Yi Huan a bolt of the coveted material. It became chillingly clear that she had been deliberately weaving a tapestry of deceit.
A woman steeped in scheming, he mused, his gaze hardening with newfound resolve.
Turning his attention back to Qiao Yihuan, he declared with a conviction that resonated deep within his soul, "Yi Huan, you deserve all the finest treasures the world has to offer. Wait for me a little longer, and I shall undoubtedly persuade my father and mother to consent to our union, allowing me to take you as my Crown Princess."
Qiao Yihuan lowered her gaze, her cheeks blooming with a delicate blush, as if kissed by the morning sun. "Your Highness, Yihuan places unwavering faith in you. Even if fate dictates that I should not ascend to the position of Crown Princess, and I am destined to serve as merely a humble concubine, Yihuan will accept whatever destiny you deem fitting with unwavering grace."
Unbeknownst to the pair, Qiao Wanyan was enduring a day riddled with misfortune. First, she had become hopelessly disoriented within the labyrinthine grounds of the Eastern Palace, and then, as she inadvertently rounded a corner near the tranquil Bamboo Liquid Pool, she stumbled upon the clandestine meeting between her elder sister and the Crown Prince. Oh no! Wrong turn! she inwardly shrieked. She was poised to execute a silent retreat when her eyes locked with those of Jingyuan, the Crown Prince's ever-vigilant and imposing bodyguard.
Yanyan wants to dissolve into tears. She genuinely hadn't intended to intrude upon their private tryst, truly. Left with no palatable alternative, she compelled herself to approach the couple, offering a perfunctory greeting before attempting to make her escape – or rather, her hasty and undignified flight.
"Ohhh, what a delightful surprise to find you here, elder sister! I was, in fact, searching for you high and low," she announced, forcing a saccharine sweetness into her tone.
She couldn't possibly confess to being hopelessly lost, could she? The original Qiao Wanyan had frequented this section of the palace on numerous occasions, and feigning ignorance would only sow seeds of suspicion and invite incredulity.
A bright, melodious voice, like the chiming of silver bells, cut through the air, and Qiao Wanyan floated gracefully towards them, her movements as fluid and effortless as a willow swaying in the breeze.
He Zhiyu scrutinized her with a discerning eye. In stark contrast to the elegantly understated and seemingly pure maiden he had encountered just days prior, today she was arrayed like a riotous bouquet of wildflowers, her appearance a deliberate return to her former, more flamboyant and overtly alluring self. Her silk robes, a kaleidoscope of vibrant hues, shimmered with every step, and her hair, piled high in an elaborate confection of braids and jeweled ornaments, seemed to defy gravity. Her lips were painted a scandalous shade of crimson, and her eyes, expertly lined and shadowed, sparkled with an almost mischievous glint. She was a vision of calculated extravagance, a walking masterpiece designed to captivate and enthrall.