Chapter 82: The Banquet at the Prince’s Residence

The three of them were chatting idly in the reception hall when the faint sound of an argument drifted in from outside. Meng Yuanheng’s brows furrowed. The Prince Xuan’s residence had always been quiet; the servants knew their place. Who dared to be so bold, making a commotion within the manor?

He was just about to lose his temper when he heard Changdong report from outside, “Master, Manor Lord Yun has come to visit, and he has brought two young ladies with him.”

Yun Yi, bringing two women to Prince Xuan’s residence?

Meng Yuanheng’s handsome brows arched slightly. Was Yun Yi tired of living, coming here to seek his own demise?

If the man still had any sense, he should know Meng Yuanheng’s temper well enough.

He never meddled in Yun Yi’s affairs outside—the gallivanting, the flirtations—but would never permit him to bring his flock of frivolous women into the manor.

He recalled the last time, when Yun Yi, using the excuse of dispelling rumors about his supposed impotence, had brought a bevy of gaudily dressed women to the manor to parade before him—he’d found it utterly repulsive. His face immediately darkened, and without a second thought, he spat out three words: “Throw them out.”

But just then, Shen Qianmo, hearing the commotion, thought the voices sounded oddly familiar. She quickly called out, “Wait, Changdong. Let me go and see.”

“Qianmo, why bother yourself with these irrelevant people?” Meng Yuanheng’s face was clouded with displeasure.

Shen Qianmo shot him a sidelong glance. This man, in his heart, would probably never learn the meaning of hospitality. No wonder the vast Prince Xuan’s residence was always so cold and devoid of life.

“Guests are guests. Besides, Manor Lord Yun has been your friend for many years. Is it really appropriate to throw him out like this?” Without waiting for Meng Yuanheng’s clear disapproval, Shen Qianmo left the reception hall.

In the small courtyard beyond, three figures approached along the stone path—a man and two women. The man, dressed in white, exuded an air of elegance and nonchalance. He was none other than Yun Yi, the charming lord of Woyun Manor.

The two young women with him—one spirited and valiant, the other sweet and winsome—were, as Shen Qianmo had surmised, Ning Hua and Fu Yuechan.

Watching the three of them bicker their way over, Shen Qianmo could not help but smile. How had these three ended up together?

Fu Yuechan trailed behind Yun Yi and Ning Hua, her little face drawn into a frown as she watched the sharp exchange between the man and woman ahead. She was utterly exasperated.

What puzzled her most was that her usually calm and reasonable Hua elder sister had become so hot-tempered upon meeting this white-robed gentleman.

This Young Master Yun had such fine features, so pleasing to the eye—what was there to be angry about?

Her confusion vanished when she spotted Shen Qianmo standing not far ahead, smiling warmly. Her eyes lit up, and she called out, “Sister Qianmo!”

She darted past Yun Yi and Ning Hua, running straight to Shen Qianmo’s side, joyfully taking her hand. “Sister Qianmo, you really are here.”

“Yuechan,” Shen Qianmo greeted her with a smile.

Ning Hua, who had been glaring at Yun Yi, heard Yuechan’s call and, forgetting their quarrel, snorted coldly at Yun Yi before hurrying to Shen Qianmo’s side, taking her other hand and laughing, “Qianmo, at last I’ve found you.”

“Hua elder sister, what brings you here?” Shen Qianmo asked with a smile.

“We heard yesterday that you’d been released from prison. We wanted to visit right away, but it was already late, so we decided not to disturb you. This morning, Yuechan and I agreed to go to your family’s mansion, but you’d already left before us. Hearing you’d come to Prince Xuan’s residence, we followed along.”

Ning Hua leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Qianmo, will Prince Xuan be angry?”

Truthfully, Prince Xuan was so cold and detached that they were a little afraid of him, but their eagerness to see Shen Qianmo had overridden their caution, and so they’d impulsively come to the gates of Prince Xuan’s residence.

They had lingered outside for some time, lacking the courage to actually knock. They were about to give up and return the next day when they encountered this impertinent, self-styled romantic manor lord. A few taunting words from him, and their reason had deserted them—they’d ended up following him inside.

Now, with their tempers cooled, they felt a little frightened.

Just then, Fu Yuechan caught sight of Meng Yuanheng being wheeled out from the hall, his expression cold and unreadable. Her pretty face paled, and she tugged at Ning Hua’s sleeve, whispering timidly, “Hua elder sister, Prince Xuan is coming out.”

Ning Hua’s mouth twitched. Speak of the devil—her unlucky tongue had summoned him.

Well, since they were already here, and with Qianmo present, no matter how fearsome Prince Xuan was, he wouldn’t eat them alive. With this thought, Ning Hua regained her composure. She and Fu Yuechan exchanged a glance, then stepped forward to greet Meng Yuanheng with a respectful bow.

“Greetings, Your Highness.”

Yun Yi sauntered forward, flicking open his folding fan with an air of casual elegance, his handsome face adorned with a rakish smile. Leisurely, he said, “Miss Ning, I wasn’t joking when I told you—the Prince Xuan’s residence is no place for women. Be careful, or you’ll find yourselves bound and tossed out the door.”

He hadn’t forgotten the miserable fate of those women he’d brought here last time. Meng Yuanheng had no concept of pity—those were the famed courtesans of the four great pleasure houses in the capital, and he’d had them thrown out like rubbish. Since then, Yun Yi had not dared step foot in those establishments.

But this Miss Ning was rather interesting—spirited and forthright, exactly to his taste. His eyes lingered on the fuming Ning Hua, his gaze deepening for a moment.

But only for a moment—when he turned to Shen Qianmo, his expression instantly shifted to one of fawning adoration, his smile dazzling.

“Of course, Qianmo, you’re an exception.”

Ever since he’d tasted her cooking at the Suzhou villa, he’d been longing for more. If he wanted to savour such delights again in the future, it paid to be on her good side.

Yun Yi was always flippant, never serious. Shen Qianmo took no offense, smiling reassuringly at the visibly uneasy Ning Hua and Fu Yuechan. “Hua elder sister, Yuechan, Manor Lord Yun is always joking. Don’t mind him. I’m truly happy you came to see me.”

Now that the whole capital was rife with rumors of her being possessed by evil spirits, even the servants at her family’s mansion avoided her. Yet these two, whom she had only recently come to know, still believed in her and sought her out. She was deeply moved.

“Since you’ve come to visit Qianmo, why not stay for lunch before leaving?” Meng Yuanheng’s voice was as cold and even as ever, but it was enough to make Yun Yi’s jaw drop in astonishment.

Had those words really come out of Meng Yuanheng’s mouth?

The cold and caustic Meng Yuanheng, who had never kept company with anyone, was actually inviting guests—women, no less—to dine at his residence? This was truly the strangest thing under heaven!

Meng Yuanheng shot a frosty glance at Yun Yi, who was still dumbstruck, his tone utterly indifferent. “As for you, Manor Lord Yun, suit yourself.”

With that, he ignored them all, exchanged a glance with Shen Qianmo, and was wheeled back into the reception hall by Changdong. As he turned, no one noticed the faint smile that played about his lips.

To have Qianmo welcome her friends here in the prince’s residence gave him the feeling that she was already its mistress. And he liked that feeling very much.

“Hey, Meng Yuanheng, what do you mean ‘suit yourself’? I’ll have you know, I’m not leaving today—I’ll stay here just to see what you’ll do about it!” Yun Yi, having recovered from his shock, chased after Meng Yuanheng indignantly, unwilling to be so easily dismissed.

Behind them, Shen Qianmo couldn’t help but laugh aloud. Ning Hua and Fu Yuechan exchanged glances, then burst into peals of silvery laughter, startling several hidden guards into nearly losing their footing.

The Prince Xuan’s residence had been silent for so long that none of them could recall when they had last heard such uninhibited laughter.

The head chef of Prince Xuan’s residence was Liu Zhun, a burly, broad-shouldered man. Shen Qianmo sometimes suspected that Meng Yuanheng, for convenience’s sake, had simply dragged an army cook from the Flying Cloud Cavalry to fill the position.

At that moment, Liu Zhun stood before his stove, his rugged features creased with worry as he stared at the pile of ingredients before him.

The old butler had just handed him these supplies, instructing him to prepare a midday banquet for guests.

This was the first time, in all his three years as chef here, that such a thing had happened. He was at a complete loss, not knowing where to begin.

A knife rusts if not used, and his cooking had never been much to boast of. Now, it was positively embarrassing.

He wondered anxiously who these honored guests could be. Wasn’t the prince always known for his love of solitude? What had prompted him to host a banquet?

While he poked despondently at the ingredients, the old butler’s voice sounded from outside the kitchen.

“Liu Zhun, come pay your respects to His Highness and Her Ladyship.”

His Highness and Her Ladyship, in the kitchen? Liu Zhun, back to the door, hesitated, half-believing, and stole a glance over his shoulder. What he saw nearly made him leap out of his skin.

There they were indeed—the prince, seated in his wheelchair, and the princess at his side, smiling serenely.

His jaw dropped in astonishment, and the carrot he’d been gnawing slipped from his mouth, rolling away across the floor.

But Liu Zhun had no time to retrieve it. He hurried to the doorway, bowing and scraping. “Your Highness, Your Ladyship, what brings you both to the kitchen?”

Why did the future princess consort like to visit the kitchen so much? Liu Zhun remembered her last visit—why was she here again today?

Meng Yuanheng merely snorted coldly, ignoring him. Shen Qianmo smiled gently. “Liu Zhun, I’ll be preparing lunch myself today. You can just assist me.”

Liu Zhun stood frozen. Had he heard right? Did Her Ladyship say she was going to cook personally?

His face fell—he could have wept. Was his own cooking so terrible that the princess had to step in for a banquet?

And now that she was the princess consort, couldn’t she leave the work to the likes of him?

And another thing: If Her Ladyship insisted on cooking herself, why was the prince standing by, watching so intently?