023
The summer night was sweltering, and cicadas chirped incessantly outside the window, but Si Mianmian paid them no heed. She sat upright at her desk, her slender fingers holding a brush, meticulously copying a diagram of a crossbow on a blank sheet of paper. It wasn't poetry or prose, but a diagram of a crossbow mechanism, the lines precise, the components intricate, and accompanied by fine annotations. This was a sketch of a repeating crossbow she had drawn after repeated deductions and improvements, drawing upon her memories from her previous life and combining them with the current level of craftsmanship in the Yu Dynasty. It could fire ten arrows in succession, possessing astonishing power.
Survival Handbook Rule #23: The real bargaining chip is often not in overt flattery, but in hidden value. To take, you must first give, and what you give must be something the other party truly needs, yet unexpected.
She knew that tomorrow was the day of her "appointment" with Xuan Jing. This hostage from the Yan Dynasty, outwardly gentle and refined, was actually as deep as the sea; ordinary gold and silver jewelry, tender affections, would hardly move him. What did he need most as a hostage in a foreign land? He needed the ability to protect himself, the strength to increase his bargaining power to return home. This crossbow diagram was the "stepping stone" she had carefully prepared.
The following day, instead of her usual "chance encounter" in the Imperial Garden, Si Mianmian secretly sent Qiuhe to Xuanjing's residence, "Tingzhuxuan," with a plate of newly made pastries and a plain note that read: "Tonight at midnight, wait for Brother Jing at the back corner gate of the Imperial Study. I have important matters to discuss." She signed it with only the single character "Mian." She deliberately chose the late hour and place when guards were relatively lax, both to avoid being seen and to add a touch of mystery and adventure, making it impossible for Xuanjing not to be curious.
That night, the moon was bright and the stars were few, the shadows of the trees swaying gently. Si Mianmian changed into a dark green, patterned nightsuit that allowed for easy movement, concealing herself in the darkness as she silently arrived at the agreed-upon location. She arrived a little early and stood quietly in the shadows of the corner, patiently waiting.
A moment later, a slender figure arrived as promised. Xuan Jing was still dressed in a moon-white robe, which made him appear even more upright and aloof in the moonlight. When he saw Si Mianmian's attire, a faint hint of surprise flashed in his eyes, but he did not ask any questions. He simply nodded slightly and said in a low voice, "The Ninth Princess has invited me so late at night. What important matter could it be?" His voice was as gentle as ever, yet it carried an imperceptible scrutiny.
Si Mianmian didn't answer. Instead, she took out a neatly folded piece of plain paper from her sleeve, handed it over with both hands, and her eyes shone brightly in the moonlight: "Brother Jing, take a look at this first."
Xuan Jing took the crossbow and unfolded it in the dim moonlight. Initially calm, his nonchalant expression gradually turned serious as his gaze moved downwards. He was a discerning person; he immediately recognized the ingenuity and potential value of the crossbow design—something no palace princess could have imagined out of thin air! He abruptly raised his eyes, his sharp gaze fixed on Si Mianmian, as if re-examining the seemingly fragile girl before him: "Where…did this drawing come from?"
“In my spare time, I would browse through miscellaneous books from the previous dynasty and occasionally come up with some insights. These are just some random drawings, I hope you’ll forgive me, Brother Jing.” Si Mianmian’s tone was light, attributing her astonishing creation to “accident.” At the right moment, a hint of a little girl’s expectant and apprehensive expression appeared on her face as she presented her treasure. “Brother Jing, do you think… this thing is useful?”
Xuan Jing gripped the flimsy piece of paper tightly, his fingertips tightening slightly. Useful? More than useful! If mass-produced and assembled, it would be a powerful weapon in the army! Did she know its value? And why would she so easily entrust such an important item to him, a hostage from an enemy nation? Countless thoughts swirled in his mind, finally coalescing into a deep, questioning voice: "Why did the princess give this map to Xuan Jing? If this were presented to His Majesty or His Highness the Crown Prince, it would be a great achievement."
Si Mianmian had anticipated his question. She raised her small face, the moonlight outlining the graceful lines of her neck. Her eyes were pure and untainted, yet her tone carried a calmness and insight beyond her years: "Mianmian is but a humble woman, and this thing is nothing but a piece of waste paper to me. But in Brother Jing's hands, it might... add icing on the cake, or provide charcoal in the snow." She paused, lowering her voice, with a heartfelt sincerity, "Although Mianmian has long lived in the deep palace, she knows that Brother Jing's situation is not easy. Mianmian has no other skills, but she only wishes to use this meager skill to do her best, hoping to... alleviate even a fraction of Brother Jing's burdens."
These words were spoken beautifully, indicating that she was aware of his predicament and expressed her support, while also adopting an extremely humble attitude, as if she were just a young woman wanting to do something for someone she cared about, without involving politics or expecting anything in return, making it so pure that it was hard to refuse.
A turbulent current surged in Xuan Jing's deep eyes. He gazed at Si Mianmian, trying to find a trace of hypocrisy or calculation in her eyes, but he only saw a clear sincerity and... a well-hidden, filial affection? He remained silent for a long time before slowly putting away the blueprints, placing them close to his body. When he spoke again, the usual warm and distant tone in his voice seemed to have faded slightly: "Your Highness's kindness is deeply appreciated by Xuan Jing... I will remember it. This item is of paramount importance to Xuan Jing. Thank you."
Survival Handbook Postscript: Giving is for the sake of receiving. When the price paid far exceeds the other party's expectations, and no immediate return is demanded, the trust and bond gained will be unbreakable.
Seeing that he accepted the drawing, Si Mianmian felt relieved, knowing that the first step had been successful. A relieved, slightly shy smile bloomed on her face, as if his approval was her greatest reward. She skillfully changed the subject, her tone becoming lighter: "I'm glad you don't mind, Brother Jing! Oh, and this..." She took out a small, exquisite purse from another sleeve pocket, embroidered with simple auspicious cloud patterns in silver thread, and handed it to Xuan Jing, "This was embroidered by Mianmian herself, and I put some calming herbs inside. I heard that Brother Jing has been reviewing documents late into the night recently, and I hope it can help you sleep peacefully."
Xuan Jing stared at the finely stitched purse, which exuded a faint medicinal fragrance, and was stunned once again. As a hostage, he seemed to be treated with courtesy, but in reality, he lived under the surveillance of countless eyes. He had to be careful in every aspect of his life, from eating to sleeping. When had anyone ever cared so meticulously about whether he was sleeping peacefully? This seemingly insignificant concern touched a vulnerable spot in his heart more directly than the crossbow diagram that had weighed more than a thousand pounds.
He reached out and took the purse; it still carried the slight warmth and fragrance of the girl's fingertips. He stroked the patterns on it and said softly, "Thank you for your trouble, Princess."
“Brother Jing…” Si Mianmian suddenly took a small step forward, closing the distance between them. She looked up, the moonlight shining on her face, her long eyelashes casting a faint shadow. Her eyes were filled with dependence and complete trust, and her voice was soft like a dream, “In this palace, Mianmian always feels… that only Brother Jing understands me. We… are the same.”
This sentence carries profound meaning. What are they the same? The same helplessness? The same living behind a mask? The same seeking a foothold in a foreign land? She didn't say it explicitly, but it precisely struck a chord with Xuan Jing's deepest feelings.
Xuan Jing's heart was stirred by these gentle words, like a pebble thrown into a still lake, creating ripples. He looked at the girl so close to him, and the unreserved trust and closeness in her eyes were something he had never felt in this cold palace. Almost instinctively, he softened his voice, adding a gentleness he himself was unaware of: "The night is deep and the dew is heavy. Princess, you should take care of yourself and go back to rest early."
"Mmm!" Si Mianmian nodded obediently, but stood still. Instead, she poured out two bright red love beans from a hidden compartment in her purse, spread them in her fair palm, and handed them to Xuan Jing. Her eyes held a mischievous innocence. "Brother Jing, look, these are love beans from the South. They are said to contain the most efficacious blessings. I'll give you this one to bless you with good fortune; I'll keep this one, hoping... hoping that you'll occasionally think of Mianmian."
As she spoke, she placed a red bean into Xuan Jing's slightly cool palm, clutching the other tightly in her own hand. Before Xuan Jing could react, she turned and strode away like a startled fawn, her skirt tracing a graceful arc in the night before disappearing around the corner of the palace wall.
Xuan Jing stood rooted to the spot, the red bean in his palm burning hot, as if carrying the girl's scorching body temperature and heartbeat. He looked down at the dazzling red, then looked up in the direction she had disappeared, remaining motionless for a long time. The cold moonlight bathed him in a silvery glow, and for the first time, a clear and complex emotion appeared in his usually calm and unwavering eyes.
There was shock, inquiry, and vigilance, but also... a faint trace of emotion, one that even he himself was unwilling to admit.
“Si Mianmian…” he murmured the name, a faint yet complex smile curving his lips.
What kind of woman are you, really?
At this moment, Si Mianmian, who had returned to Zhuixia Pavilion, shed her shyness and innocence and sat calmly by the window, playing with another love bean in her hand.
The final lesson of the survival manual: Winning hearts and minds is paramount. Material gifts can only bring benefits; emotional resonance is what can open the door to the heart. For the lonely, a sense of "understanding" and "need" is far more valuable than a thousand treasures.
“Brother Jing…” she murmured the address, a hint of calculation and genuine confusion flashing in her eyes.
She walked this path with trepidation at every step. Her involvement with Xuan Jing wasn't just scheming; it seemed... something else was quietly growing within her without her even realizing it.
After tonight, a small hole will be torn in the thin veil between her and Xuan Jing. And light is shining through it.
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