Chapter Seventy-Three: Telling Stories

Li Yanhe watched as Lin Miaomiao counted on her fingers, talking about his few good brothers, and suddenly these people didn’t seem so disagreeable to him anymore. He spoke to Lin Miaomiao in a different tone, “I am the second eldest. Above me is the Emperor’s first son, the Crown Prince, Li Hanwen.”

“He is the current master of the Eastern Palace, and I am the Emperor’s second son, also known as the Prince of Shengxuan, the first prince in Dayong to be granted a title. Though I’m one rank below a Prince of the First Rank, it’s still a position of honor.”

Hearing this, Lin Miaomiao suddenly found the pastry in her hand less appetizing. She had never thought Li Yanhe was so remarkable—the youngest prince in history to receive a title.

She asked, “How old were you when you were granted the title?”

Li Yanhe glanced at Lin Miaomiao. Her eyes sparkled, making the young girl appear especially adorable. He lowered his gaze and replied, “At twenty.”

Lin Miaomiao nodded, not quite sure why she suddenly wanted to know more about Li Yanhe. Seeing her curious expression, Li Yanhe’s heart softened completely. Lin Miaomiao, looking at him, felt a pang of pity for the man before her, though she didn’t know why.

She held his large hand, and he glanced down at her. She asked, “And then? What about the third prince?”

Li Yanhe sighed and said, “The third is the son of Consort De. This year, she was promoted to Noble Consort, so his standing as a prince has risen as well.”

Lin Miaomiao nodded at his words, and Li Yanhe continued, “You’ve met the fourth.”

“The fifth has no chance at the throne, so he’ll remain a leisure prince.” His tone was light, and Lin Miaomiao didn’t quite understand what he meant.

Sighing again, Li Yanhe explained to the ever-curious Lin Miaomiao, “Fifth was born with a weak leg, so he was never in consideration for succession.”

She nodded again. Li Yanhe continued, “There’s also the seventh and ninth. They’ll be entering the Six Ministries this year.”

Lin Miaomiao nodded once more, then looked up at Li Yanhe and, after a moment’s thought, asked, “Isn’t there a lot of pressure fighting for the throne?”

Up ahead, An Ba, who was driving the carriage, couldn’t help but click his tongue. Miss Lin was truly bold—utterly irreverent words like these, if overheard, would bring suspicion upon both her and his master from the Emperor.

Li Yanhe sighed and said to her, “The Crown Prince has done nothing wrong. Father would never depose him. Princes like me, stationed at the frontier, are already granted enough favor by being recalled to the capital. If I harbored any untoward ambitions, I would meet a miserable end.”

His voice was calm, but the meaning was not lost on Lin Miaomiao. For some reason, she suddenly felt he was rather pitiful.

It struck her that, for Li Yanhe, being granted the title of Prince was no favor at all—it was simply to appease him and keep him at the frontier.

She recalled how, in dramas, generals who held military power rarely met good ends. She remembered a line from a palace intrigue series she’d watched: “How can one allow another to sleep soundly beside one’s own bed?”

Looking at Li Yanhe’s face, she squeezed his large hand and said, “It’s all right. What’s so great about the capital? It’s only more bustling. We can make this place just as lively as the capital.”

After she spoke, Li Yanhe nodded. Lin Miaomiao smiled and played Five-in-a-Row with him in the carriage, munching on pastries.

Li Yanhe, bored, made his moves while watching Lin Miaomiao eat. She looked just like a little hamster, and he suddenly found her very cute.

Noticing his gaze, Lin Miaomiao asked curiously, “Do you want some?” Li Yanhe replied, “No, you eat.”

She pressed, “Then why are you staring at me? It’s awkward if you just watch me eat without joining in.”

Li Yanhe noticed a bit of pastry at the corner of her mouth and reached out to wipe it away. Lin Miaomiao stood stiffly, dazed, as she felt something at her mouth brushed away.

She felt as if Li Yanhe were teasing her, though she had no proof. “Why are you flirting with me for no reason? If you’re moved, you have to take responsibility, you know?”

Li Yanhe looked at her and simply murmured, “Mm.” Suddenly, Lin Miaomiao felt a little at a loss with his reaction. She protested, “Is ‘mm’ all you have to say? Do you even know what I’m talking about?”

He replied, “If you don’t mind spending your life with me here in this desolate borderland, I’d be willing…”

She interrupted him, “Why would I mind? Besides, the border isn’t desolate at all.”

She glanced at him and said, “If neither of us finds someone we love in the future, spending a lifetime together wouldn’t be so bad.”

“A lifetime is actually quite short,” she sighed. She knew that so much could happen in a person’s life—she herself had experienced a lot.

She hadn’t gone through any great upheavals, but she had died suddenly in her twenties, struck by a car, her life ending so abruptly.

To her, that was a lifetime. Now, inhabiting the body of this nine-year-old girl, it was another lifetime.

She felt she could write a book, perhaps “My Entrepreneurial Journey in Ancient Times.” As her thoughts wandered, Li Yanhe placed his hand before her and said, “Sometimes, you hardly seem like a child.”

She looked up at him and replied, “Maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m a demon possessing this little girl, here to subvert the dynasty.”

She put on a sinister expression as she spoke, making Li Yanhe suddenly burst out laughing.

He said, “I don’t believe in ghosts or gods, because I know the human heart is far more frightening.” With those words, he glanced at her.

“You’re no fun, you know? When I was little, I heard a story—” Lin Miaomiao had intended to say it was from a TV show, but stopped herself, remembering that such things didn’t exist in ancient times.

Li Yanhe, hearing her begin a story, listened intently.

“A long time ago, there was a kingdom ruled by a tyrant. He waged wars everywhere, leaving his people destitute.”

“Heaven heard the people’s pleas and sent a nine-tailed fox spirit to bewitch the king. The fox possessed a beautiful woman and entered the palace.”

Lin Miaomiao was telling him the story of Su Daji and King Zhou of Shang—a tale from “Investiture of the Gods.” When she was little, she had seen Daji as the villain and believed that justice would always prevail.

But as she grew older and revisited the story, she realized things weren’t so simple. People’s perspectives changed with age; the story remained the same, but she herself had changed.

As the saying goes, a thousand readers will see a thousand Hamlets. The story hadn’t changed—only Lin Miaomiao had.

Li Yanhe found her story intriguing—such tales were rare. Halfway through, he interjected, “That king was truly absurd, killing his own queen for the sake of a favorite concubine.”

Lin Miaomiao countered, “Don’t you think it was Daji’s fault? If it weren’t for her, the king wouldn’t have acted so outrageously.”

He shook his head. “Such things have little to do with women. The real fault lies with the king.”

She smiled and shook her head. “And then? Did Jiang Ziya and the others win?” Seeing that he wanted her to spoil the ending, she laughed and asked, “What do you think happened?”

He replied, “Daji was a spirit, so in the end, she must have left. After all, she had a purpose in approaching the king.”

Lin Miaomiao shook her head. “Daji and the king leapt together from the Deer Terrace. When the rebel army broke through the gates, the two of them jumped to their deaths.”

Li Yanhe frowned at the ending. “Why? Why would she die with that human king?”

She thought for a moment. “Maybe when Daji was still a fox, the king saved her.”

“Or perhaps she fell in love with him and chose to give up everything to die by his side.” He was left with a sense of melancholy after hearing the story.

Lin Miaomiao had told the simpler version from the animated series she’d watched as a child, with edits of her own.

Li Yanhe said, “That ending is truly poignant, but it shows even spirits can feel deeply.”

She nodded and asked, “Why don’t you see the love between Daji and King Zhou as grand and passionate, as if they were true soulmates?”

He laughed and shook his head. “If I truly loved a woman, I wouldn’t let her be hurt.”

At his words, Lin Miaomiao could only laugh and cry at the same time.