Chapter 27: Wen Qingyan, the Gentle Confidante (1)

Master Zui waved his hand dismissively, his thoughts clear: "Off you go to the auction floor. Unless it’s urgent, don't bother coming back to the backstage area." Only by keeping them apart could he ensure that the honorable Ninth Prince would never catch wind of the lady in white.

Master Zui reclined against his soft chair, flicking open his long fan with an expression of immense self-satisfaction.

Changge Yue arrived at the Yuexuan Pavilion on the second floor, where an attendant promptly served her tea and the finest pastries. She picked up her cup, her gaze drifting into a momentary haze. The second floor of the auction house was circular, with all the private rooms surrounding a hollowed-out central platform. Her eyes seemed to wander into the distance, lost in a fleeting trance.

Noticing her gaze fixed on the box directly across from the central stage, the attendant hurriedly offered, "That is the private box for Prime Minister Wen’s household." Since everyone on the second floor was either wealthy or noble, the staff were naturally respectful.

Seeing no reaction from Changge Yue, the attendant took the liberty of adding, "And the box next to the Prime Minister’s belongs to the Prince Chen estate." Every woman in the world, he reasoned, harbored a secret love for Prince Chen. Since the fall of the Crown Prince, Prince Chen had become the preeminent figure in Jin City. Though not yet formally invested as the heir apparent, everyone in the capital knew he was the only logical choice.

His chatterbox now open, the attendant looked toward the two grandest boxes with a longing expression. "I hear Prince Chen is soon to be married to Miss Wen Qingyan, the Prime Minister’s eldest daughter. She is a woman of virtue and grace; during the snowstorm last year, she personally distributed porridge at the city gates to save the starving. I was fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of her—though she wore a veil, one could still tell she was a beauty of legendary proportions. I wonder if someone from the Prime Minister’s estate will show up at the auction today..."

Changge Yue chuckled softly. "Then you had better keep your eyes peeled. Miss Wen might already be on her way." Wen Qingyan had long set her heart on the Prince, but the Prime Minister, ever protective of his reputation, would never have risked his precious daughter at the city gates for a mere show of charity without ulterior motives. If he hadn't asked the Emperor for the Prince’s hand, he would certainly be here to secure the treasure at the Zhenbao Pavilion.

A hundred years of time by the Bridge of Helplessness felt like another lifetime to Changge Yue. She wondered, as they stood on the verge of meeting again, if Wen Qingyan had fared well in her absence. The humiliation she had suffered in the dungeons of the Ministry of Justice was something Changge Yue would never, ever forget.

Her slender fingers tightened around the cup until her knuckles turned white. She bit her lip for a long moment before suddenly letting out a soft, mocking laugh. It seemed she had not yet mastered the art of composure.

After the attendant left, the Yuexuan Pavilion fell into a profound silence. Changge Yue toyed with her teacup, waiting.

Finally, a crisp, ingratiating voice broke the stillness: "Cousin."

Through the beaded curtains of the pavilion, Changge Yue saw the undisguised look of fawning respect on Changge Yuqing’s face. She arched a brow. *Cousin?*

Following Changge Yuqing’s gaze, a cold glint flashed in Changge Yue’s eyes. Standing before Changge Yuqing was a woman with a delicate peach blossom mark adorning her forehead. Her eyes, visible above a silken veil, were as gentle as flowing water. She wore a pale yellow dress of shimmering gossamer, its graceful silhouette accentuated by a hem embroidered with tiny, genuine gold beads.

The woman radiated a mix of opulence, tenderness, and ethereal elegance—the kind of presence that compelled one to look, yet whose noble bearing made it impossible to stare for long.

Changge Yue sneered internally. Even if Wen Qingyan’s face were slashed eighty-one times, she would recognize her in an instant. For the daughter of the supposedly "incorruptible" Prime Minister to be adorned in such lavish splendor—it seemed her "dear" father had reached new heights of prosperity indeed.