When Weimo returned to Hongni Courtyard, Su Wanzhao was sitting alone and disconsolately on the courtyard swing, her brow furrowed with worry.
"Weimo!" Su Wanzhao rushed over, clutching an ash-stained handkerchief. "You're finally back! Why did the Prince keep you for embroidery? Does he like you that much?"
Weimo steadied her stumbling figure, her fingertips brushing a begonia petal from Su Wanzhao's temple. "The Prince couldn't bear to punish the Princess Consort, so he had this humble maid take the blame. To win the Prince's forgiveness with a single jade belt, even if my embroidery made me cough up blood, I would gladly do it."
Su Wanzhao narrowed her eyes to scrutinize her. "Just embroidery, and nothing else?"
Having spent two nights at Qinshui Pavilion, Su Wanzhao suspected Weimo of actively seducing Zhao Yan and engaging in some sordid bedchamber affair.
After all, in her eyes, that man possessed the majestic grace of a dragon and a phoenix—he was someone every woman in the world should adore.
Weimo led her toward the stone table, casually revealing the fingertip she had intentionally pricked the previous night. "The Prince possesses the grace of a heavenly being; how could he possibly deign to notice a lowly maid?"
Su Wanzhao's gaze lingered on that fingertip for a moment, then she looked Weimo up and down, the suspicion in her eyes gradually fading. "That's true, I suppose." She paused. "Did you manage to find out what the Prince likes?"
Weimo took out half a pastry brought back from Qinshui Pavilion. "The Prince loves osmanthus and chestnut flour cakes best."
"Really?" Su Wanzhao's eyes suddenly lit up with brilliance.
Back at the General's Mansion, her concubine mother often made these little cakes for her. She was quite fond of their sweet, sticky texture, and they were a specialty she excelled at making.
"Only, the powdered sugar must be added in just the right amount, and the heat of the steamer must be timed precisely by the clepsydra..." Weimo took Su Wanzhao's slightly chilled hand. "This maid heard that the monthly-blooming osmanthus in the Small Garden is in full bloom. The osmanthus blossoms picked by the Princess Consort herself will surely sweeten the Prince's heart."
***
In the morning light, Weimo followed behind Su Wanzhao with a bamboo basket over her arm, the bottom lined with a shallow layer of sweet osmanthus petals.
What Zhao Yan truly loved was the silver osmanthus that bloomed in late autumn. The pastries she had served him earlier at Qinshui Pavilion were made from a reserve stored in the cold cellar.
Monthly osmanthus was somewhat sweeter, and if piled with even more powdered sugar, the osmanthus and chestnut flour cakes made from it would likely turn out so sweet they tasted bitter.
"The Princess Consort is in such fine spirits."
Python-patterned boots crushed the scattered osmanthus blossoms all over the ground. Su Wanzhao's hand jerked, and her silver scissors became jammed between the branches. In a panic, she clipped off an entire cluster of flower branches and turned back to pick them up. Suddenly, the golden python jade belt around Zhao Yan's waist made her eyes ache fiercely.
She picked up the branches and hid them behind her. "This wife heard that the Prince loves osmanthus and chestnut flour cakes best, so she wanted to make them herself and bring them to Qinshui Pavilion..."
The man's dark eyes swept over the figure holding the bamboo basket behind her; this woman was truly heart and soul bent on helping her mistress secure his favor.
So be it. Right now, the doubts swirling in his mind were tangled layer upon layer, and he desperately wanted to find out whose hands had actually crafted the osmanthus and chestnut flour cakes he had cherished for half his previous life.
"Then they must be made by the Princess Consort's own hands." He flicked a fallen petal from Su Wanzhao's shoulder. "Do not let anyone else lend a hand, not even with the stove fire."
"Is the Prince mocking Wanzhao for being clumsy?" Before she could finish speaking, her red-rimmed eyes welled with tears.
Zhao Yan's fingers, which had been winding a lock of her hair, stiffened. "This Prince merely wishes to taste the Princess Consort's unique craftsmanship."
***
Wisps of white steam rose inside the small kitchen of Hongni Courtyard as Weimo quietly watched Su Wanzhao clumsily stir the osmanthus juice. Scalding fresh chestnuts occasionally spilled onto the gold-gilded stove, filling the entire kitchen with a cloyingly sweet, slightly bitter scent.
By dusk, Su Wanzhao finally held up a plate of intertwined branches and headed to Qinshui Pavilion. "Have a taste, Your Highness. Wanzhao boiled this sugar syrup many times over."
Zhao Yan pinched off a corner and brought it to his lips. A heavy amber syrup mixed with a slight burnt taste spread in his mouth, but not a trace of osmanthus fragrance remained.
It was truly as different from the two pieces he had eaten that morning as clay was from the clouds.
"Did the Princess Consort truly make this with her own hands?" His tongue felt bitter from the sweetness.
"Your Highness..." Su Wanzhao pouted coquettishly, presenting her soot-stained fingers to Zhao Yan. "Look, this wife did not let anyone else help at all."
"The Princess Consort has truly worked hard." He suddenly removed a gold hairpin from Su Wanzhao's temple, his gaze darting sideways to eye the obedient little rabbit in the corner. "From tomorrow on, let her make them instead."
Looking at the direction pointed by the tip of the gold hairpin, Su Wanzhao felt a sudden ache in her heart. "But Weimo... she works very hard too."
"The Princess Consort's ten fingers should be stained only with powder and rouge." He pressed the gold hairpin back into Su Wanzhao's palm. "Such tiring chores are best left to the servants."
Su Wanzhao's pretty face flushed slightly, and she was about to close her hand over his, but the man had already withdrawn his hand. The crisp sound of bamboo scrolls rustling startled her, sending a thrill through her heart. "What the Prince says is right. Then this wife... will listen to the Prince in everything."
Zhao Yan picked up the bamboo scrolls to read them closely, leaving Su Wanzhao with her burning red cheeks. "On the first day of next month, for the Agriculture-Praying Festival, the Empress has personally designated the Princess Consort to ascend the platform and pray for rain. The estate's Hundred Grains Banquet that night will also be entrusted to the Princess Consort to organize."
"Really?"
Zhao Yan placed the scroll bearing the title of "Blessed Woman" beside her hand. "Naturally. Only, the Princess Consort must craft the prayer garments herself to show true sincerity."
When she left Qinshui Pavilion, Su Wanzhao tightly clutched the scroll of the Blessed Woman, completely forgetting about the osmanthus and chestnut flour cakes.
She stared at the page detailing the "Prayer Garment Style" in the scroll, as if she could already see herself standing on the nine-zhang-high platform, receiving the adoration of all the people.
Qiwu State valued agriculture above all else, and the once-every-three-years Agriculture-Praying Festival was a grand national event. For a woman, becoming the Blessed Woman who ascended the prayer platform was an immense honor.
Even though it was merely following tradition through the motions, if the next three years brought favorable weather and good harvests, Su Wanzhao would win the praise of all the people. She would even have the confidence to stand shoulder to shoulder with the Empress when entering and leaving Renming Palace.
Regrettably, in her past life, right before she ascended the platform, her South Sea pearl necklace had unexpectedly scattered all over the ground, every single round pearl sinking into the sacrificial altar.
Imperial Noble Consort De had made things difficult for her in public and decisively replaced her with Wen Qingyu to ascend Yunxi Platform. "Such a person bereft of blessings, how is she fit to petition the gods on behalf of all the people?"
In her panic and chaos, Su Wanzhao had ended up trampling her underfoot. "It was all this maid's fault!"
That night, the Hundred Grains Banquet blazed with light, yet Su Wanzhao had been busy in the dark eaves of the back courtyard, driving all ten silver needles straight into Weimo's fingertips. "Were you trying to step over this Princess Consort to rise up?"
It wasn't until years later, after she had plotted to end Wen Qingyu's life, that she learned the necklace of South Sea pearls that had suddenly burst apart was actually Wen Qingyu's own doing.
"Good Weimo..." Su Wanzhao's cheeks burned with an unnatural flush. "Since you must deliver the osmanthus and chestnut flour cakes for me, you must also sew the prayer garments—"
She rubbed hard against the unhealed needlepricks on Weimo's fingertips. "These hands of yours must not be as useless as when you were sewing embroidery pouches."
A warm, gentle smile curved the corners of Weimo's lips, while deep in her heart she concealed a blood-stained blade. "This maid's hands are most skilled at helping the Princess Consort... ascend to the heavens in a single bound."
***
As the two women walked away from Qinshui Pavilion together, the slight curl of Zhao Yan's lips abruptly turned icy.
He did not demand absolute perfection in women, but this honey-coated mask was even more repulsive than the frankness of someone openly admitting a humble status.
Wei Xiao asked cautiously, "Your Highness, these cakes..."
Zhao Yan flicked his sleeve lightly. "They are yours as a reward."
Wei Xiao glanced sideways at the bright red little pastry and hurriedly changed the subject. "The Vice Minister Wen's legitimate daughter has sent a visiting card, wishing to see Your Highness."
"When?"
"The hour of *xu* the day after tomorrow, on a painted boat by the Jin River."
"No time."
Just now, he had demanded that servant girl deliver osmanthus and chestnut flour cakes to him every day at the end of the hour of *xu*; how could he possibly have time to go see any other woman?