Great Zhou World

The Shangshu Mansion was packed with people, three layers deep inside and three layers deep outside, filled with people watching the excitement. You might ask what kind of excitement this was? It turned out to be a flower viewing banquet specially organized by the Shangshu's wife, the current Empress's younger sister. All the flower growers in the capital were gathered at the Shangshu Mansion.

"Are you ready, everyone?" Ning Yangyang shook her shoulders and cheered herself up. Just as she was about to take the crucial step, she was stopped in her tracks by Nangong Xi's questioning tone.

"Miss, these are not real flowers in our hands. Can we really participate in the competition?" This was the first time that Nangong Xi saw this novel thing. It was made by Ning Yangyang herself in the morning. It was made of red-dyed cloth and sewn one by one. Although it looked a bit like a flower from a distance, it would still be inferior to the beautiful peony.

"Nangong, is this the first time you've seen this? Are you curious about it?"

Nangong Xi nodded in agreement without hesitation. "That's right, we want drama." Ning Yangyang deliberately slowed her pace the moment she entered. She was a directionally challenged person, and even following the navigation system would lead her to some unknown corner. So this time, she made sure to mark the location of every window in the Shangshu Mansion.

"Nangong, help me remember the detailed route from the gate to the bedroom." The artificial flowers in the hands of the two people were inconspicuous. There were many guests today, so Ning Yangyang did not speak so concealedly.

Just a few steps away, someone had already forgotten their serious business. When Chen Ye had nothing else to do in the orphanage, she'd plant some flowers and plants, though they were all wildflowers and weeds. Fortunately, wildflowers and weeds were easy to care for; they thrived without her having to worry about them. So Chen Ye loved flowers, and her favorite was the dandelion, which thrived everywhere, just like her.

As the two stepped into the Shangshu Mansion garden, they were transported to a surging, dazzling sea of blossoms. It felt as if all the splendor of heaven and earth had been captured, refined, and poured across this tiny space, weaving a breathtakingly rich tapestry. Here, a battlefield of renowned flowers competed, a pinnacle of color and form.

In the center of the sea of flowers, atop a nine-story platform, the much-anticipated "Blue Dragon Lying in the Ink Pond" proudly blossomed. Its dark purple petals embraced a jasper-green pistil, radiating an almost bewitching brilliance under the sunlight and the gazes of countless people. And at this moment, the one truly commanding this land of flowers and the people within it was the Minister of State—Chen Gongming—seated in the main rosewood chair.

Minister Chen wore a dark crimson formal suit, a jade belt cinched at his waist. Though over fifty, his temples frosted, his gaze was sharp and his bearing as dignified as a mountain. He didn't rush to judge the courtesan. Instead, he held a plain white folding fan, his fingertips casually tapping the ribs as his gaze slowly scanned the room. Wherever his gaze fell, the noisy crowd seemed to be hushed by an invisible force, instantly becoming quieter. The officials and nobles standing on either side held their breath and bowed their heads, their postures respectful.

When the emcee belted out "The Oiran—Blue Dragon Lying in the Ink Pond!" Minister Chen finally nodded, a barely perceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He didn't stand, merely raised his hand in a gesture. The attendant beside him immediately bowed, holding up a pair of golden scissors that had been prepared. The minister took the scissors and slowly walked toward the pot of rare flowers. Countless eyes followed, breathless in concentration. He leaned over, not snipping the entire flower. Instead, he meticulously snipped off the plumpest, greenest cluster of pistils at the center of the flower, placing them in a small red sandalwood box lined with red velvet. He handed the box to the old flower farmer, kneeling in the audience, trembling with excitement. "You've cultivated this rare treasure, and you deserve it. This pistil is given to you, and I'll pass on its name to you." The old farmer kowtowed profusely, oblivious to the dirt on his forehead.

Ning Yangyang stared at the "Blue Dragon Lying in the Ink Pool" and asked, "Which author wrote this cultivation technique? Can this be cultivated in the ancient world?"

“Don’t sweat the small details.”

"Fortunately, I didn't accept the Blue Rose you prepared for me. It's nothing compared to this pot of flowers." Ning Yangyang hid the three or two fake flowers between her sleeves, where no one would notice.

When Xiao Yuhuan entered the west courtyard study, he wasn't greeted by the expected gentle words of his aunt. Instead, he was greeted by the figure of Xia Min, anxiously pacing before a rosewood desk. Her intricate brocade dress, embroidered with peony patterns in gold, rippled through the light and shadow with her hurried steps, creating heavy, opulent ripples. The air lingered with the scent of precious incense, but it couldn't suppress the silent anxiety.

He had just come out of the palace frustrated and was about to find Xiao Ziyi to ask why this workaholic hadn't even attended court meetings, but halfway there he realized that today was the day his aunt was hosting a grand flower viewing banquet. Seeing his aunt's demeanor, Xiao Yuhuan's heart skipped a beat, thinking to himself: This isn't a banquet, it's clearly another bad omen.

"Huanhuan!" Xia Min stopped abruptly, her well-maintained face showing suppressed anger and deeper worry. "Why have you upset your father again? Do you know what a critical situation we are in now?" She took a few steps forward, her well-maintained finger almost touching his forehead, but she stopped abruptly before touching, and let out a painful sigh. "Thank God, that bitch's evil child died as soon as he was born. Your position as crown prince is temporarily secure! Why can't you... can't you fight for your mother's honor? If she knew..."

"Mother?" Xiao Yuhuan's lips curled into a faint, cool smile, like a thin crack in the surface of a winter lake. He walked directly to the rosewood tea table by the window and sat down, expertly pouring himself a cup of tea. The clear tea poured into the white porcelain cup, and curls of hot steam rose, blurring the sharpness and bitterness that flashed across his eyes. "She must be regretting even now why she gave me this life." He lifted the cup of rain-soaked Longjing tea, and the refreshing aroma of beans mixed with the fragrance of orchids reached his nose. It was the unique aroma of his aunt's house, a rare and peaceful atmosphere from his childhood memories. He sniffed deeply, as if to inhale this familiarity and comfort into his lungs.

"You...you kid! What nonsense are you talking about!" Xia Min felt a pain in her heart because of the sting in his words, and her eyes instantly turned red. She walked a few steps to his side, not caring about her ladylike manners, and sat down next to him, tightly holding his hand on the table. Her hands were slightly cold, with a barely perceptible tremor, and the tears in her eyes rolled under her long eyelashes, with a little bit of distressed starlight, as if the person sitting in front of her was still the lonely child who was cautious in the deep palace and longed for maternal love. "Huanhuan, listen to your aunt's advice, don't mess around with that damn Xiao Ziyi anymore! Who is he? What is your identity? He will only bring you trouble and make your father hate you even more!" Her voice was choked with sobs and pleading, and every word was soaked with pure worry and fear.

"Aunt!" Xiao Yuhuan raised his eyes sharply, retorting eagerly, "Ziyi isn't that kind of person! He and I..." He wanted to say, "We share the same suffering," "We both understand the difficulty of surviving in the cracks of power," but the words were on the tip of his tongue, seeing the tears threatening to fall from his aunt's eyes, and he swallowed them back. In a desperate attempt to suppress the lump in his throat, he choked and coughed violently, the tea splattering all over his shirt, making him look disfigured.

"Ouch! You kid! What's the rush?" Xia Min's scolding was filled with heartache, her previous anxiety and admonition instantly washed away by the man's discomfiture. Almost instinctively, she pulled out her handkerchief and gently patted his back, carefully wiping the water stains from the corners of his lips and his shirt, her movements as gentle as if they were fragile porcelain. Seeing his eyes slightly red from coughing, the tears she had been holding back finally fell.

At that moment, her eyes swept across the desk and saw the plate of mung bean cakes she had made herself, still emitting a sweet aroma. As if she had grasped a magic weapon that could soothe the person in front of her, she immediately stood up, picked up the most exquisitely shaped and the most emerald green mung bean cake, and offered it to Xiao Yuhuan's mouth, her tone as gentle as coaxing a child: "Come on, drink the tea from my aunt's house, and of course, you'll feel comfortable with a piece of my aunt's homemade mung bean cake. Open your mouth, ah——"

The movement was so natural, so familiar. Time seemed to flow backwards in this moment. Xiao Yuhuan vaguely remembered countless afternoons as a child, reprimanded by his father and ignored by the palace maids. He would hide in this study in the west courtyard. His aunt would do the same, holding a scroll he couldn't understand in one hand and feeding him sweet cakes with the other, gently dispelling the gloom from his heart. Back then, he was barely tall enough to reach this desk.

Looking at the mung bean cake so close, and the tears still lingering in his aunt's eyes, filled with tenderness, Xiao Yuhuan's heart, frozen by the palace and reality, quietly melted a little. He obediently opened his mouth, leaning on his aunt's hand, and bit off the sweet, soft cake. The familiar taste spread across his tongue, carrying the warmth of the past and the unconditional love of the person before him.

He chewed, swallowed, then raised his slightly damp eyes to look at Xia Min. His voice was low but clear: "Aunt, I understand your concerns. But Ziyi... he and I are the same person." This time, he wasn't anxious, didn't choke, simply stated calmly, with an unquestionable insistence, but also an implicit appreciation for his aunt's thoughtfulness. He reached out and gently grasped her hand, still holding half a mung bean cake, the hand that had lifted him up countless times when he fell and warmed him when he was cold.

"Hey, girl, what's in your arms? Since you're here to attend the flower-viewing banquet, why are you hiding it?" A voice with a frivolous smile sounded from the side.

Ning Yangyang was idly fiddling with the petals of a nearby peony when she lazily glanced up at the sound. The moment she saw the identity of the person before her, her pupils shrank sharply, and alarm bells rang in her heart: "Has he messed with the imperial family? What kind of luck is this today!" The man was dressed in a luxurious royal blue brocade robe and a jade belt. He had gained weight, his eyes were puffy, and his cloudy eyes revealed undisguised greed—it was the eldest prince, Xiao Yumin! He waved a gold-sprinkled folding fan, and the strong aroma of ambergris mixed with the odor of alcohol filled her face.

Ning Yangyang was dressed in a fiery red riding habit today, with a wide belt embroidered with gold thread and lotus flowers, which outlined her slender waist. Her black hair was tied up in a ponytail, secured only by a short hairpin made of red gold filigree and inlaid with rubies. A few strands of hair fell on her cheeks, making her skin look even whiter than snow. Her eyes and eyebrows were as bright and rebellious as the sun. Her arms were bulging, obviously hiding something. Seeing that the other party did not seem to recognize her identity, she felt relieved and forced herself to remain calm, even forcing a perfunctory smile: "Your Highness, you are joking. They are just some cheap little things. I am afraid they will offend you." She subconsciously held the things in her arms tighter and turned her body slightly to protect the person behind her.