Jiang Qingzhi suddenly clenched the Yuchang sword in her sleeve. The oriental pearl adorning the sword's tassel was the very pearl the Crown Prince had given her as a coming-of-age gift the previous year. Back then, he'd said, "A pearl shouldn't be covered in dust," but now, thinking about it, it felt like prophecy.
"Your Highness!" the secret guard suddenly exclaimed. Everyone looked up to see Xin Yidao's teacup tipping over, its tea staining the pages of "Crane's Cry in the Lonely City." As Jiang Songyi hurriedly reached for her hand, the jade hairpin in her hair tinkled to the ground, shattering into three pieces.
Jiang Yuyao suddenly chuckled, and her gold-inlaid jade armor scraped against the window lattice: "What a pity, this jade hairpin belongs to His Royal Highness the Crown Prince..." Before she finished speaking, Jiang Yihan suddenly dragged her out, and the sword at his waist knocked over the Duobao Pavilion, and the celadon vase from the previous dynasty in the pavilion shattered.
Dusk streamed in through the bamboo curtains. Xin Yidao picked up the broken jade hairpin. The sharp edge of the broken piece drew a bloody mark on his palm, just like the arrowhead that pierced Jiang Songyi's shoulder blade when she blocked an arrow for him in his previous life.
…
The silver teapot on the teacup gurgled, and steam filled the carved window lattices. Jiang Songyi rested her chin on her hand, her fingertips rubbing the cover of the storybook. "Mr. Zizhu's new work is in great demand. Does His Highness often send people to buy it?"
Xin Yidao lowered his eyes to watch the Biluochun tea float in his cup. Of course, he couldn't say that every time a new book was bound, the owner of Yuewen Bookstore would personally bring samples of gold-sprinkled paper to the palace. He changed his tone, saying, "Occasionally, I'll take a look when I have time."
"That's perfect!" Jiang Songyi suddenly pushed over a gilded box, inside which lay a brocade-bound book. "I have a clever girl under my command who's good at sneaking through people's cracks and snatching hardcover editions." Her eyelashes cast a fan-like shadow under her eyes. "Shall I snatch another copy for Your Highness in the future?"
Xin Yidao glanced at the lotus pattern on the corner of the box and recalled the report from the secret guards last month that Princess Jiaqing had lost one of her embroidered shoes while trying to grab the new book. His fingertips unconsciously rubbed the rim of the cup, his knuckles appearing even paler against the celadon. "Okay."
With a "crack," the guard's boots crushed walnut shells from nowhere. He had personally seen dozens of unopened storybooks piled in the prince's study—this gentleman himself was Mr. Zizhu, and now he was pretending to be doing it as if it were real.
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