Chapter Eleven: The One Who Captures the Heart

“Hey, Mo Ci, are you alright?” Meng Zi Gui looked at Song Mo Ci, who seemed stunned in place, wondering if he’d been knocked silly.

“Huh? What is it? Hey, where did that girl who slapped me go?” Song Mo Ci snapped out of his daze, anxiously peering at the empty doorway.

“She left ages ago. But Mo Ci, honestly, she’s just a young girl. Sure, she slapped you, but that’s no reason for you to seek revenge! Tsk tsk tsk,” Meng Zi Gui eyed Song Mo Ci with disdain.

“Who said I want revenge?” Song Mo Ci withdrew his gaze and sighed with regret.

“Can’t you see? He’s taken a fancy to her.” Shen Ming Shan shook his head, his voice as clear and pleasant as a nightingale’s song.

“Pfft! No way,” Meng Zi Gui spat out his wine in shock.

“I agree with Young Master Shen,” Yun Niang chimed in. She hadn’t missed the fleeting affection in Song Mo Ci’s eyes just now.

“Oh, stop discussing and help me find out whose daughter she is,” Song Mo Ci pleaded.

“No need to investigate. Didn’t you see her come with the Grand Prince? She slapped you because of him, so she must be someone close to the Grand Prince—or perhaps, someone he’s fond of.” Meng Zi Gui explained confidently.

“No way! My elder brother is so scheming and ruthless, he’s not worthy of that girl. Only someone as charming as myself is a match for her.” Song Mo Ci stroked his chin, full of self-admiration.

“Please, you? Give it a rest!” Meng Zi Gui rolled his eyes silently.

“Now’s not the time to shoot me down. Whoever helps me find out, I’ll treat them to a month of drinks!”

“You said it! No backing out later. Leave it to me, and none of you better compete with me!” Meng Zi Gui leapt up excitedly, slapping the table. Everyone said the eldest son of the Meng family was a wine fanatic, and it was true.

Meanwhile, Rong Jiu stormed out of Mingxiang Pavilion in a huff and found a quiet spot by the river to sigh alone.

The calm water reflected her delicate features—though not yet fully matured, her cheeks still held traces of baby fat. But if one stopped to look closely, beneath that youthful innocence was a breathtaking beauty that made it hard to look away.

“This is nothing like what I imagined!” Rong Jiu sighed. “Heavens, are you playing tricks on me?”

Her aversion to Song Mo Ci stemmed from having been deceived in college by just such a playboy. Perfect, witty, and charming on the surface, but behind the scenes, a notorious philanderer, flaunting his wealth and status while toying with others’ feelings. If Rong Jiu hadn’t seen it for herself, she might still have foolishly believed he’d change for her, loving only her in the future.

Looking back, she realized just how naïve she’d been!

With the popularity of domineering CEO characters in novels and dramas at the time, she swore she’d only marry a domineering CEO in this lifetime!

Well, of course, a CEO was out of the question now—but a domineering prince, that she had!

As she thought of this, a sly smile curled on Rong Jiu’s lips.

From what she knew, Youzhou had six princes. The Grand Prince Song Mo Ting and Third Prince Song Mo Ci had already come of age and received their titles; Fourth Prince Song Mo An would come of age in a few months, Fifth Prince Song Mo Qin would have his ceremony next year, Eighth Prince Song Mo Yu was just five, and the Tenth Prince was still in swaddling clothes. Since it was all about forging alliances, marrying any prince should suffice.

She had no intention of marrying the flirtatious Song Mo Ci. The Fourth Prince was said to be inspecting the border, and the Fifth Prince apparently already had a chosen consort—she couldn’t snatch him. That left only the Grand Prince Song Mo Ting.

Song Mo Ting was proud and untamed, every movement radiating a natural imperial aura, making his wild charm irresistible. If he weren’t always so cold and aloof, surely he'd be surrounded by all sorts of women!

Today, she slapped Song Mo Ci. That fellow would never marry a rough woman like her, so he’d definitely complain to the monarch. Then she could seize the chance to confess that her heart belonged to Song Mo Ting—and then, well, heh heh!

“Princess? Why are you sitting here grinning to yourself? Where’s the Grand Prince?”

Rong Jiu was deep in her daydreams when A Mu suddenly tapped her shoulder from behind, startling her nearly out of her wits.

“Oh! A Mu, where did you come from? Trying to scare me to death?”

Rong Jiu patted her chest, glaring at A Mu, who quickly knelt and begged forgiveness. “It’s my fault, Princess. Please punish me.”

“Alright, alright, get up. Didn’t I tell you to stop kneeling all the time? I’m not that petty. But how did you know I was here?”

“No matter where you go, Princess, A Mu can always find you,” A Mu said with a broad smile.

“Look at you, so smug! I’m in a good mood today—come shopping with me. My treat, your purse!” Rong Jiu poked A Mu’s forehead and dragged her toward the bustling street.

As a modern-day shopping fanatic, Rong Jiu could exhaust a horse with her shopping sprees. Poor A Mu had to carry bag after bag, and pay for everything, until her purse was empty and only then did Rong Jiu reluctantly return to Rongyuan—the residence Song Mian had built for her entourage in the Western Ning style.

Having heard the Grand Prince took Rong Jiu to Mingxiang Pavilion to see the Third Prince, Rong Le and Rong Xian hurried back from Song Mian’s, fearing their little sister might do something rash. But to their surprise, she returned joyfully with A Mu, trailed by a group carrying all sorts of parcels.

“Hi, brothers!” Rong Jiu waved cheerfully at them, then turned to instruct A Mu, “A Mu, take everyone and put the things in the front hall—be careful!”

“Yes, Princess.” A Mu replied, greeted Rong Le and the others, then led the group inside.

“Sister, why did you buy so much?” Rong Le frowned, wondering if she’d been triggered.

“Ninth Sister, did you buy out the whole street?” Rong Xian stared at the long procession, his mouth gaping wide enough for an egg.

“I found everything here so cheap and practical, and I still have so much left to buy! If A Mu’s purse hadn’t run dry—sigh!” Rong Jiu sighed regretfully, then her eyes sparkled as she turned to Rong Le. “Big brother, how about giving me more pocket money?”

“If I give you any more, you might end up buying all of Jing’an!” Rong Le said with a laugh.

“Big brother’s right. Looks like we’ll have to cut back in the future.” Rong Xian rubbed his forehead, sighing helplessly.

“What? That’s not fair! I even bought you gifts. Hmph, you two are mean—I won’t give them to you!” Not only had they not increased her allowance, they wanted to reduce it. How was one supposed to live?

“Gifts?” Hearing that, Rong Xian’s eyes lit up. He hurried over, ingratiating himself. “Hehe, Ninth Sister, don’t worry, if big brother won’t give you money, I will!”

“Really? Second brother always cares about me.”

“Alright, let’s go inside. Standing at the door like this isn’t proper. I have something important to ask you, Ninth Sister,” Rong Le said, quietly kicking Rong Xian and pulling Rong Jiu in.

“Ouch! Big brother, why do you keep kicking me? I haven’t said anything wrong!” Rong Xian grumbled.

Inside, Rong Jiu sorted her trophies while absently asking Rong Le, “Big brother, what was that serious matter you mentioned?”

“Of course it’s about Song Mo Ci. I heard Song Mo Ting took you to Mingxiang Pavilion to see him?” Rong Le tapped his teacup lid, a hint of anger in his words.

“Oh, that. Yes, what about it?” Rong Jiu continued sorting, seemingly unaware of the growing gloom on Rong Le’s face.

Bang—

The teacup slammed down on the table, startling everyone. Rong Jiu finally realized her brother was angry and hurriedly set her things aside, moving behind him with a smile to massage his shoulders.

“Big brother, calm down, calm down. Ahem, actually, it’s like this—the scene was chaotic, I did this and that and then this and that… and then it was over.” Rong Jiu swallowed, mumbling ambiguously, hoping to muddle through lest the truth made Rong Le even angrier.

“What do you mean ‘this and that’? Ninth Sister, explain clearly! You’re driving me crazy!” Apparently, someone wasn’t going to let her off so easily…

Rong Jiu shot Rong Xian a glare, thinking, must you speak?

“There’s nothing much to tell. Let’s talk about something else. I bought you gifts! Let me find them…” she tried to escape.

“Stop right there.”

As soon as she turned, Rong Le called her back.

“I slapped the Third Prince,” Rong Jiu blurted out, figuring it couldn’t be hidden, so she might as well say it all at once—though she spoke so quickly she nearly bit her tongue.

“What!” Rong Xian’s eyes widened in disbelief.

“That’s all?” Rong Le poured another cup of tea, his anger melting away.

No scolding as expected, just a casual question. Rong Jiu felt as if in a dream; after a moment, she quietly released her hands from her ears and nodded, “I swear, that’s all.”

“Big brother, you’re acting like nothing happened. Did you hear her? Little Jiu slapped Song Mo Ci—how could she do that?” Rong Xian frowned, thinking.

“Song Mo Ci is the monarch’s most favored son. If he’s humiliated publicly and they decide to blame us…”

“I ask you: the Third Prince, instead of greeting his future princess from afar, feigns illness to carouse in a place like Mingxiang Pavilion. Ninth Sister slapped him, but that was lenient. Even if the monarch dotes on him, Youzhou is at fault first. How could they have the face to blame her?” Rong Le sneered, his anger evident—his dislike for Song Mo Ci was clear.

“Big brother’s right. We were being shortsighted,” Rong Xian said, suddenly enlightened, and smiled.

“Hmph, big brother understands me best.” Rong Jiu breathed a sigh of relief, shot Rong Xian a triumphant look, and bounced over to massage Rong Le’s shoulders.

“Yes, yes, nearly forgot our Ninth Sister is the real victim. But how could she marry someone like that!” Rong Xian’s anger returned.

“With this incident, even if we demand a replacement, the monarch shouldn’t be able to refuse.” Rong Le sipped his tea, a smile curling his lips.

Though the Mingxiang Pavilion affair hadn’t become widely known, Song Mian was furious when he heard. He immediately sent someone to summon Song Mo Ci to the palace for an explanation, only to find him dead drunk, so he had no choice but to have him carried back to the Third Prince’s residence, under close watch.

He was both angry and troubled, wondering how to explain things to Western Ning. This time, Youzhou had made a laughingstock of itself!