Chapter 5

A private summons, a fluttering heart

After this incident, the residence finally knew complete peace.

The women who had secretly envied her and stirred up gossip all reined themselves in. Each kept to her place, and only awe remained in their eyes when they looked at Du Yizhen. Everyone understood that this seemingly frail, harmless daughter of a noble family's principal wife from the Shu Kingdom was someone the crown prince sheltered close to his heart. She was not to be provoked.

For days, life within the residence was peaceful and undisturbed.

Du Yizhen remained gentle and serene. Every day, she read and practiced calligraphy, watching idly as autumn winds stripped the trees. She neither drew attention to herself nor presumed upon his favor, quiet as a wisp of cloud.

Yet only she knew that her heart had long since lost its original calm.

The cold-faced crown prince's repeated exceptions and silent acts of protection were like a soft, warm pebble falling gently into the deathly still chill of her heart, sending ripples spreading through it.

She constantly reminded herself of the gulf between their stations and dared not dream of the slightest special favor. Yet in the end, she could not control that faint warmth and fluster stirring in her heart.

The afternoon sunshine was pleasantly warm, its soft light spreading across the windowsill.

Du Yizhen was bent over a calligraphy copybook, reproducing its graceful, delicate characters with steady care, stroke by stroke. Qinghe quietly ground ink beside her, and the courtyard lay tranquil and still.

Just then, a eunuch's gentle announcement came from outside the courtyard. "Miss Du, His Highness has summoned you. Please come to the reception pavilion in the front courtyard."

Her brush tip abruptly stopped.

Du Yizhen's heart suddenly tightened. Her fingers clenched slightly around the brush, and panic instantly fluttered through her.

A private summons?

She instinctively raised her eyes, utterly at a loss. "Sir... what does His Highness wish to see me about?"

The eunuch remained respectful. "This servant does not know. His Highness merely asks that you come. There is no need to be nervous."

Qinghe froze as well, instinctively clutching the hem of her clothes, then quietly murmured reassurance to her mistress. "Don't be afraid, miss. His Highness has always protected you. He certainly won't make things difficult for you."

Even so, Du Yizhen's heart continued to pound.

She had never met Zhao Xuan alone.

That lofty, stern, aloof heir to the throne had always seemed beyond reach. Now he had actually summoned her, the daughter of an official from a fallen kingdom, to a private audience. How could she not be frightened?

She drew a deep breath, suppressing the panic surging inside her, and raised a hand to straighten her plain dress and gently tuck away the loose strands beside her temples. Not daring to adorn herself too much, she retained her simple, understated appearance, neat and gentle, composed and graceful.

Following the eunuch through courtyard after courtyard, she made her way toward the reception pavilion in the front courtyard.

Along the way, the palace walls stood in orderly lines, and the plants and trees were hushed. Every corner exuded the majesty and solemnity unique to the imperial household, making her feel increasingly constrained.

At the end of the carved corridor stood the waterside reception pavilion.

The autumn wind passed through the hall, lifting its sheer curtains. Amid the shifting light and shadow, a tall, straight figure stood quietly before the window.

Zhao Xuan had exchanged his usual formal brocade robes for an ink-black everyday robe. Its soft, lustrous fabric accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist, lending his bearing an unrivaled air of nobility. He stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the pond outside. His profile was sharply defined, his jaw taut, and he carried an unmistakable air that warned strangers away.

His back alone was enough to render the surrounding air still and solemn.

Du Yizhen instinctively softened her footsteps and slowed her breathing slightly as she followed the eunuch inside.

"Your Highness, Miss Du has arrived."

The eunuch bowed and withdrew. In an instant, only the two of them remained in the reception pavilion.

The room was so quiet that a falling pin could have been heard.

Du Yizhen's heart was taut, her fingertips slightly curled. She obediently lowered her head and curtsied, her voice soft and gentle, carrying an almost imperceptible tremor. "This commoner, Du Yizhen, pays her respects to Your Highness."

The young woman's curtsy was meek and proper, her shoulders drawn in slightly. Like a timid little rabbit, she was so docile that the sight softened the heart.

Zhao Xuan slowly turned around.

His deep, pitch-black eyes settled on her. His gaze remained cool, but it held less of its usual aloof indifference and more of a quiet, intense focus.

He watched her silently for a moment before speaking in a low voice, rich and pleasing, with a faint coolness like the autumn wind. "There is no need for such ceremony. Rise."

"Thank you, Your Highness."

Du Yizhen slowly straightened, her eyes still lowered. She dared not lift her head to meet his gaze. Her long lashes trembled, and she could not conceal her fluster.

Standing so close to him, she felt his imposing presence far more keenly than when watching him from afar. The crisp, steady scent of ambergris clung to him, subtle and solemn. It lingered at her nose, leaving her heart even more unsettled.

As Zhao Xuan watched her timid, fearful manner, tempered by such obedience and good sense, a trace of tenderness flickered in his eyes.

He had seen countless women: some dignified and poised, some deliberately coquettish, some deeply calculating. Only Du Yizhen was so untainted and pure, every joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure written in her eyes. Her fear was real, her gentleness sincere, without the slightest falsehood.

"Has anyone made things difficult for you at the residence lately?" he asked evenly.

Du Yizhen gently shook her head, her voice meek. "Your Highness, no one has troubled me. All is well in the residence. Thank you for your care and protection."

"So long as all is well."

Zhao Xuan's gaze rested on her fair, delicate face. Seeing how she remained too timid to raise her head, his tone unconsciously softened. "I know you have a gentle disposition and are not good at arguing. If anyone provokes you or speaks ill of you from now on, you need not endure it in silence. Send word directly to me."

Those few simple words carried the weight of a thousand pieces of gold.

The crown prince of Great Qi himself had personally promised to stand behind her.

Du Yizhen's heart gave a violent tremor. Warmth instantly flooded it, spreading through her blood to every limb and bone.

At last, unable to help herself, she lifted her eyes slightly.

Her clear, moist eyes met the deep darkness of his.

In those eyes, long sealed in ice, cold and unfeeling, her small figure was now distinctly reflected.

The instant their eyes met.

The wind ceased, all sound fell silent, and her heartbeat suddenly lost its rhythm.

She saw the rare gentleness in his eyes, saw this lofty man make an exception for tenderness, saw the favor and forbearance this cold-faced crown prince offered to her alone.

Her heart pounded, and a faint blush quietly rose to her cheeks. Against her fine, fair skin, that touch of red made her look all the more delicate and lovely.

Zhao Xuan gazed at her suddenly flushed cheeks and her moist, flustered eyes. His gaze stilled slightly, and somewhere within his heart, a hardened corner quietly softened.

He had always been free of desire, without attachments or concerns. Long accustomed to cold restraint, he let nothing move his heart.

Yet he had encountered this tender, timid, pure-hearted young woman.

When she was flustered, his heart softened; when she was wronged, he took her side; when a faint redness touched her eyes, his long-unchanging composure faltered.

So there truly was someone in this world who needed neither deliberate flattery nor every possible attempt to cling to him. She only had to stand there quietly to effortlessly dismantle all his coldness and restraint.

The autumn breeze brushed gently through the reception pavilion, stirring the curtains.

The room was silent, their hearts aflutter.

At that moment, the aloof crown prince's heart, frozen for so many years, was completely and quietly melted by this gentle little white flower from Shu.