Back then, when Prince Su, Li Long, sought to marry Ye Jiao, she and Li Ce staged a play before the Emperor, feigning mutual affection. They had agreed that once the political storm passed, they would orchestrate a dramatic quarrel in public, part ways noisily, thus severing ties without implicating the Duke of Anguo's household or disgracing the royal family.
A chance encounter is better than a planned one, and no day is better than today—since fate had brought them together, let the quarrel begin.
Yet Li Ce hesitated, a troubled expression crossing his face."Jiaojiao," he said, standing a little apart from the crowd, "His Majesty has just bestowed a princely title upon me today. I was hoping to invite you to Drunken Immortal Tower for a drink. Didn't you say you wanted to watch the Hu dancers perform? Oh, and they serve dishes even more exquisite than the braised pork knuckle you like."
At some point, Li Ce had grown used to calling her "Jiaojiao."
"What?" Ye Jiao's gaze drifted from the delicacies before her, her mind conjuring images of dancers swaying their hips and the exotic fragrance unlike any pork knuckle she had known.
"There's…" Li Ce paused, then whispered, "Boiled calf head. It's made with tender young veal, seasoned with fermented black beans, scallions, and ginger, cooked until soft, then mixed with salt, clarified butter, Sichuan pepper, and sour citrus. It's sealed in a clay jar and roasted in a hearth until perfection."
Ye Jiao couldn't help but swallow—salty, savory, but not greasy. It must be divine."Is it truly… beef?" she asked skeptically.
In the Great Tang, slaughtering cattle or horses was forbidden; even if one killed their own livestock, they'd face a year of hard labor. No shop in the capital would dare sell beef openly.
"If you don't believe me, come and see." Li Ce started walking.
Suddenly, the pork knuckle in Ye Jiao's hand lost all appeal, and she forgot what she was supposed to be doing. She followed Li Ce toward Drunken Immortal Tower, her steps quickening. Hurry—if she was late, the dish might be gone.
Ye Jiao still remembered, from her childhood, how her brother and his friends once found a wild ox that had fallen off a cliff during a hunt. They chopped off a leg, brought it home, and stewed an enormous pot of beef. The flavor had haunted her dreams ever since.
Watching Ye Jiao's retreating figure, Li Ce felt both relieved and uneasy. It was far too easy to deceive her—this secret must never be discovered.
The Hu dancers were indeed mesmerizing. The beef, tender yet chewy. The wine, sweet and crisp, had been pilfered from Li Jing's private stores. Li Ce had warned it had a strong after-effect, but Ye Jiao, tempted by its taste, kept drinking.
As she gnawed on the beef and admired the dance, Li Ce continued to fill her plate while watching her face light up.
"How about this," Ye Jiao finally remembered their original plan after the meal and drink, "you walk out without paying, and I'll stand at the door yelling you're stingy. That'll count as a quarrel."
She was generous by nature and loathed miserly men.
"I'm afraid not," Li Ce murmured, sipping tea. "The bill is already paid."
When? Ye Jiao frowned. It was all the fault of the distracting dancers.
"Then how about this," she offered again, "once we leave the private room, I'll flirt with one of the young men in the main hall. You'll get jealous, accuse me of being wanton, and we'll quarrel."
Her reputation was already far from spotless—what harm was a little more?
She recalled how Fu Mingzhu had once criticized her for revealing clothes and low necklines. She had refused to change, and they'd fought over it. Now, with no one to object, she could act as she pleased.
From the second floor, through a thin fluttering curtain, they could see a few young men chatting below. One of them, tall and striking, stood out.
"Who is that?" Li Ce squinted, then scoffed, "So ugly—how could you flirt with him?"
Ye Jiao pouted."He's not ugly," she said, tilting her delicate chin and pointing at the most handsome one. "That's Yan Congzheng—Young Master Yan. I know him."
And because she knew him, a little teasing wouldn't matter.
Li Ce's hand froze over his teacup, fire flickering in his eyes.Flirt? How—pressing him against the wall with her knee?
As if sensing the gaze upon him, Yan Congzheng suddenly looked up and met Li Ce's stare.
He had the build of a soldier but bore the refined air of a scholar, making him appear even more charming and spirited. Upon seeing Li Ce, he looked briefly surprised. Then, spotting Ye Jiao, he smiled and raised his wine cup in a distant toast before draining it—elegant and poised, a true noble son.
"Commander Yan," Li Ce murmured as he turned away.
"Yes," Ye Jiao nodded. "Commander of the Imperial Guards, Left Vanguard."
His father had joined the court through the civil service exam, yet the son chose the military—a curious deviation. The Yan family claimed it was because Yan Congzheng disliked studying. But if that were true, where had his scholarly aura come from?
By the time the slightly tipsy Ye Jiao stepped out of the tavern, Yan Congzheng's companions had left. He sat on the stone steps outside, lantern light flickering across his figure—half in shadow, half in radiance. One hand rested on the stair, the other on a wine jar. From behind, he seemed lonely, yet unrestrained.
Upon hearing footsteps, Yan Congzheng slowly rose, bowed to Li Ce, and greeted Ye Jiao.
"About… that matter," his eyes were slightly red, perhaps from the drink. "I owe Miss Ye an apology."
That matter—naturally referred to Yan Congxiao, the one who had colluded with Qian Yougong in an attempt to violate her.
Yan Congxiao was the illegitimate son of a minister. Yan Congzheng, on the other hand, was the legitimate heir.
Ye Jiao's heart clenched. Her wine-induced haze cleared slightly. She recalled the tower beside the Half-Moon Pond, the despair she had felt, and the sickening scent on that man's skin. Goosebumps prickled her arms, her body tensed.
Perhaps because they were brothers, they shared a similar air and appearance. Still, suppressing her discomfort, she forced a smile and replied, "It's all in the past—and it wasn't you."
Li Ce had already walked a few steps ahead but, seeing them talk, returned.
"I envy your openness," Yan Congzheng said with a bitter laugh. "This matter made me avoid you and even skip the Qiqiao Festival."
Ye Jiao didn't wish to recall that night."Even if you're not on duty today, don't drink too much," she advised softly.
Yan Congzheng lifted the wine jar, his figure poised between moonlight and lantern glow. He gave her a gentle smile."Alright," he said, seeming to want to say more, but Li Ce had already tugged her away.
"When did you meet him?" he asked, voice cold.
"When we were kids," Ye Jiao replied.
The autumn moon hung low and close. Ye Jiao paused, reaching up as if to touch the sky. Her robes swayed in the breeze, and in that moment, she seemed less like a girl and more like a goddess reborn.
Her voice was soft, laced with faint sorrow."There were four of us who used to play together—Fu Mingzhu, Yan Congzheng, and an older sister from the Yan family. Then the sister married, and Yan was suddenly assigned to the Sixteenth Guard. No one knew why, but he and Fu Mingzhu ended up in a fight. By the time Fu Mingzhu proposed, I was at home waiting to be married, and we all stopped seeing each other."
They had wandered far from the bustle of the market. Li Ce listened quietly, his silence a form of understanding.
"I never imagined," Ye Jiao murmured, "that Fu Mingzhu would stoop so low. Is Qin Baiwei more beautiful than me? More gentle? More understanding?"
She shook her head. The wine was taking hold—she wobbled unsteadily."In the end, I lost. Even though I shot those three arrows on the imperial avenue—I still lost."
Her peach-blossom eyes narrowed as she waved at the moon. Her face carried loneliness, grievance, and a delicate charm unique to girls.
The drunken Ye Jiao was no longer the proud and sharp-tongued lady of usual—she became water in a stream, a flower on a branch. The most radiant of all: the peach blossom.
"Victory or defeat isn't determined by such things," Li Ce said.
"It is!" Ye Jiao insisted, nodding so hard it seemed her dainty head might topple from her shoulders. Li Ce hurriedly cupped her chin.
"When I was very little," Ye Jiao whispered like a secret, "Father was never home. Mother ran the household and grew more tired with each day. I…"