Chapter Seventeen: The Western Suburban Residence

“Fifth Princess,” a voice seemed to call by her ear. Ye Qianling came to her senses, lifting her head to find a jailer beside her, too timid to rouse her loudly. Though being awakened left her a bit disgruntled, she maintained her composure, forcing a smile as she said, “Is it time to go already? That was quick.”

“The Emperor says today is the annual opening day at the Shadow Guards’ Academy. He has already prepared an alias and identity papers for you—starting from the most basic rank, as a student,” the guard dutifully relayed the message word for word.

“A student?” Ye Qianling almost laughed at the term. “In the Southern Garden at the western outskirts, they’re still using the word ‘student’? If anyone here truly were a student, then those under proper scholars should be called ‘masters’ instead. Who gave you this phrase? It’s so lacking in taste.”

Darkened by the events concerning her mother, Ye Qianling knew she was about to step into a battle she could not afford to lose. If she remained this despondent, she might not only fail to secure first place and return to the palace, she could even become a soulless puppet. The Emperor Guangde had taught her from a young age: feelings must be set aside when it’s time for action. Though she still didn’t fully grasp this lesson, she understood the importance of priorities.

To adjust her state of mind, she relied on her most familiar method—banter.

“With all due respect, Princess, I don’t know. The message was passed down through several people and ended up like this,” the guard replied earnestly, his face utterly serious.

“Honestly, with you looking so solemn, I don’t even know how to respond. Can’t you lighten up a bit?” Ye Qianling rubbed her forehead, exasperated. He was so earnest that teasing him felt pointless. Shaking her head, she decided to play the role of a sensible princess for now.

“Ling’er,” a voice called from beyond the cell. Ye Qianjie glanced around warily before sneaking inside. His furtive manner made Ye Qianling chuckle despite herself.

Looking closer, she noticed his eyes were swollen from crying. “Fourth Brother,” she said, her composure faltering.

“What’s with the fuss? Did a dog bite you?” Ye Qianjie pressed her shoulder to keep her seated and turned to the guard with a low command, “Why are you still here? Waiting for a reward?”

“Yes, yes, I’ll leave at once!” The guard scurried out without another word.

Once alone, Ye Qianling clutched her brother’s arm. “Fourth Brother, why were you crying? It’s all my fault—blame me.”

Ye Qianjie sighed, gently ruffling her hair. “Don’t talk nonsense. If you just tell the truth, you won’t have to bear any punishment. Don’t give me excuses. None of us in this family are in our right minds after what happened to Mother. And don’t think I won’t beat you senseless before you head to the Western Garden.”

“All right, I was wrong! Just don’t hit me. Father and eldest brother have already beaten me to a pulp. I don’t even know how I’ll pass the Shadow Guard entrance assessment with these injuries.” Ye Qianling hugged her head, cowering in mock misery.

Ye Qianjie pulled her to his side with one hand, abandoning his usual playboy air for a rare seriousness. “Father asked me to tell you, reflect deeply while you’re there. Any time you confess the truth, you can return.”

“Oh.” Ye Qianling nodded absentmindedly, eager to change the subject.

“Don’t brush me off—think carefully. Don’t be childish,” Ye Qianjie urged, giving her a gentle shove.

“Fourth Brother, you’re not suited to being so serious,” Ye Qianling couldn’t help but tease, gazing at him. “All right, I’m off. See you in two years.”

Ye Qianjie did not stop her, watching her leave in silence, unable to say when they might meet again.

Western Outskirts, Southern Garden

Ye Qianling’s body, swathed in thick bandages, looked so frail that a gust of wind might topple her. Determined not to reveal any weakness, she straightened her back and pretended nothing was amiss as the guards escorted her to a bamboo grove. Though it was only the fourth hour, the place was already packed.

As a princess, Ye Qianling had seen her share of shadow guards. Emperor Guangde had always disliked their presence within the palace, so no member of the direct royal family kept private guards.

Once you entered the Southern Garden, life became a living death—a fate unchanged for generations. Better to die than live without freedom. Yet in this world, some could not escape their birth or destiny. Here, the weak were beaten down, often choosing death. The strong were selected by the powerful, living a life devoid of liberty: if they bonded with their master, they might live and die together; if not, their lives effectively ended with their servitude. From then on, they ceased to be themselves.

Rumor had it that the Southern Garden at the western outskirts was a place of nightmares. Anyone who emerged from it was no longer human, but a madman. To survive constant oppression and pain, to thrive where life itself was never assured—those who stood out were no longer ordinary in mind or cruelty. Those sent here were either orphaned, exiled, their family disgraced, grasping at a final chance for survival, or born to shadow guards—locked into that life from birth to death.

Arriving at the bamboo grove, Ye Qianling found it eerily silent, as though these people were born mute. The oppressive atmosphere crept into her heart, amplifying the pain and guilt over her mother’s fate. For a moment, she wondered if living out her days here in solitude would be a kind of release.

Startled by the thought, she quickly suppressed it—such defeatism would betray everyone who cared for her. Forcing herself to shake off these feelings, she looked around for someone to talk to, or at least share silence with. But just as when she’d arrived, no one paid the slightest attention to their surroundings, each lost in their own narrow world.

Resigned, Ye Qianling gave up on conversation. She spotted a large willow tree, leaned against its trunk, and closed her eyes. Sleep seemed the best escape. Years of military life had made her sensitive to her environment; she wasn’t worried about missing the entrance signal. She’d need all her strength for the upcoming academy assessment.

She took out a small packet of medicinal powder—her fourth brother had pressed it into her hands earlier, unable to bear the thought that her injuries might hinder her.

“Miss, wake up.” Ye Qianling, half-asleep, heard someone call her. She opened her eyes to meet a pair of phoenix-like eyes—upturned at the corners, with a magnetic allure. His nose was straight, his lips full and sensual—the kind that might tempt someone to reach out, to touch or kiss.

A strikingly handsome young man stood before her. The irritation she’d felt at being woken by the guard that morning vanished in an instant. She opened her mouth but found herself at a loss for words.

He was remarkably perceptive; even the fleeting shift in her expression did not escape him. She made room for him. “What brings you here, sir? I was sleeping quite soundly. I hope you have a good reason for waking me.”

He regarded her thoughtfully, amusement flickering in his gaze. Embarrassed by his scrutiny, Ye Qianling turned away, only to notice from the corner of her eye that he was still watching her.

“If you have something to say, say it. Why are you staring at me?” Annoyed and flustered, Ye Qianling snapped, her tone sharp, though her eyes betrayed a very different feeling.

What’s wrong with admiring a handsome face? Who doesn’t appreciate beauty? In such a gloomy mood, to have someone so attractive approach her—chatting, meeting her gaze—it was impossible not to feel a little better, Ye Qianling thought to herself.

“Miss, your robe has slipped,” he said, ignoring her irritable manner, pointing out the creamy skin exposed by her loose clothing. He couldn’t resist teasing, “Is the off-the-shoulder style fashionable for ladies these days?”

“Oh. Thank you.” Ye Qianling’s face turned scarlet. Normally quick-witted and eloquent, now she seemed struck dumb, unable to form a single word. Her mouth opened as if to speak, but her thoughts and actions refused to connect.

The two of them stared at each other. Ye Qianling had met many people, but from his features, this man was clearly not adept at handling emotions. His upturned brows and eyes—though he tried to hide it—betrayed something in his gaze.

Seeing the flush on her cheeks, the young man forgot to look away for a long moment. Coming to himself, he offered, “Miss, people here don’t seem to like conversation. It’s oppressive—I find it hard to bear. If you’d like someone to talk with, I’d be glad to keep you company.”

“All right,” Ye Qianling replied without hesitation. The stifling atmosphere weighed on her too; she badly needed someone to talk to, anything to lift her from this spiral of despair.