Chapter 7: Using Young Master Xi’s Dowry

"Wow, what a massive night-pearl." Distracted from her thoughts regarding medicinal ingredients, the young woman was immediately captivated by the enormous, luminous object beside the bathtub. A night-pearl, the size of a fist, rested on a hand-shaped stand atop a table, emitting a brilliant, fluorescent glow.

"Your Highness, please be careful with that! It was part of Young Master Xi's dowry," Dieyi exclaimed, her hands hovering anxiously beneath the pearl like a mother hen protecting her chicks the moment Yun Qiange picked it up.

"Murong Xi? You mean my husband, the one with wealth that rivals the entire nation?" Yun Qiange arched an eyebrow.

"Yes, yes, that’s him!" Dieyi nodded vigorously.

"Since he's so wealthy, he surely wouldn't mind me using his night-pearl, right?"

"But Your Highness, aren't you already using it?" Dieyi muttered under her breath.

"Someone, come here! Take this pearl and have it ground into powder. Make sure it is extremely fine, then bring it to me." Using night-pearl powder for a facial mask would yield twice the results with half the effort. So, Murong Xi, I apologize in advance.

"Ah? Your Highness! This is Young Master Xi's dowry. He will be furious if he finds out!" Dieyi cried, her face twisted in dismay.

"He moved out immediately after the wedding and hasn't returned since. If you don't say anything and I don't say anything, no one will ever know." Yun Qiange rolled her eyes, cleared her throat, and asked, "Do any of you know about this?"

"Do you know? I don't know anything," said the first maid.

"I don't know," added the second.

"This servant saw nothing at all," chimed the third.

In truth, the maids were thinking: they wouldn't dare admit to knowing even if they were granted a hundred times their courage. The poor night-pearl was taken away by a mournful-looking Dieyi to be ground into dust.

***

The Princess's grand wedding had adorned the streets for miles with red lanterns, creating an atmosphere of immense joy. Yet, no one looked truly happy, for they knew another fine man had met a tragic fate. Wanqi Haoyu had been composing poetry at five and writing prose at seven; his vast intellect and title as the "World's Number One Gentleman" were well-deserved. He was the dream husband for everyone from noblewomen to royalty, and now, he had been ruined by this "Princess of Filth."

The Princess's manor was a sea of red and vibrant decorations, packed with guests. The Empress, a woman with a benevolent countenance, clearly doted on the Princess; after the wedding rites, she offered a few words of advice and departed. She left behind only the most prestigious court officials, who swarmed Yun Qiange, spouting flowery, pedantic rhetoric. Every face wore a mask of hypocritical smiles, strained and bitter. Yun Qiange understood that this was the result of her predecessor's past cruelty and loss of public favor. She was not in a rush; one day, she would make these people look at her with new eyes.

"Today is the Princess's wedding day. I shall drink this toast first. I wish Your Highness a happy marriage and the early birth of a son." A woman of about forty approached with a cup of wine, downed it without waiting for a reply, and turned to leave. Yun Qiange rubbed her forehead, scouring her memories until she suddenly recalled who the woman was. "Prime Minister, wait!"

Shangguan Fang paused, hearing the clear, resonant voice behind her. "Today is a joyous day for me, Prime Minister. Why not stay for a few more drinks?"

"I dare not accept such an honor!" With that, she walked away without hesitation. Along the narrow path flanked by grey walls, her lonely figure retreated into the distance, yet it carried an air of unyielding pride. At only forty, her hair was already half-white—likely from the weight of her toil.