Lu Zijin took the order and left.
He pulled out two gold ingots, pointed to Sang Yan with her back towards them, and said to the owner in a low voice, "Prepare a set of everything that the young lady has looked at."
The owner was a woman in her forties who, seeing the gold, immediately smiled and nodded, "Of course. Certainly."
Her small eyes gleamed with shrewdness as she called a servant to follow the instructions and then sized up He Ying surreptitiously— the young man was bursting with youthful vigor and had an air of nobility about him, he must be someone of importance.
With that thought, she approached with a beaming smile and warm hospitality, "Would the gentleman like to personally select something for the lady he admires? It's more meaningful when you choose it yourself."
He Ying felt there was some truth to that and went to select something personally.
Seeing this, the owner followed him closely and introduced various products, "This is the peach blossom face cream, apply a layer before bed, and when you wake up the next day, your skin will be tender and dewy like that of a juicy peach. This one is the city-flipping color, look at this sultry red. Apply it to the lips and wow, it truly makes one more ravishing than the flowers..."
She was a sales expert, and with just a few words, she had kindled the desire to buy.
He Ying couldn't help but imagine himself applying the lipstick on Sang Yan.
It must be a beautiful scene.
"Sir—"
A soft, gentle female voice interrupted his lovely daydream.
He Ying came back to reality and saw a pretty young girl standing before him— her delicate, egg-shaped face and lustrous, peach blossom eyes shone brightly. She wore a hairpin with a butterfly carved from red jade and was dressed in a pomegranate-red long skirt, her waist slender, adorned with a white jade tassel. Walking gracefully, she was the picture of charm and allure.
Indeed, she was an exceptional beauty.
But after just one glance, he took two steps back, slightly furrowing his brows.
"Sir, that folding fan of yours is truly exquisite—"
The beauty approached gracefully, with a smile as captivating as flowers, her voice sweet as a warbler's, "My elder brother will soon have his coming-of-age ceremony, I wonder if you would be willing to part with it and sell it to me? I would be so grateful."
In truth, she was more interested in striking up a conversation than in buying the item.
He Ying didn't think much of it and promptly refused, "No, I cannot."
The beauty: "…"
She did not expect this outcome and was momentarily stunned. Regaining her composure, she blushed deeply, embarrassed, but still smitten by the young man's handsome face and his extraordinary presence, she mustered the courage to say, "I truly wish to purchase it, my father is Marquis Zhongyi Jiang Heng, money is not an issue."
Now it was He Ying's turn to be stunned— the daughter of the Jiang Family? Sang Yan's former sister-in-law?
Thinking of Sang Yan, the beauty apparently recognized her, and waved, calling out, "Sister-in-law—"
Sang Yan, who had finished selecting her items and put on her veil hat, was about to leave when she was called.
Because He Ying's back was to her, despite feeling a sense of familiarity, she did not guess it was him.
She recognized Jiang Yue, the younger sister-in-law of her original self, and assuming she was being bothered by a man, stepped forward to inquire, "Jiang Yue, what's the matter?"
As she asked, she looked at the man unconsciously, and the next moment her expression changed drastically, "Emperor— hmm—"
He Ying reacted quickly, raising his folding fan to cover Sang Yan's lips.
Because of the force, her lips became engorged, turning a bright red.
Sang Yan felt pain and quickly took two steps back, avoiding the fan.
"He... Mr. He, what are you doing here?"
Knowing the Emperor didn't want to reveal his identity, she carefully chose a suitable title.
He Ying retracted the fan, his fingers unconsciously touching the place where the fan had touched her lips, as if her warmth was still there.
"Just out for a walk."
He said with a slight smile, his tone noncommittal.
Sang Yan didn't ask further and turned to Jiang Yue, "What was it that you called me for just now?"
"So, sister-in-law knows Mr. He."
Jiang Yue, still basking in the surprise, didn't notice the oddity between them and explained with a smile, "It's like this. Sister-in-law, I took a fancy to Mr. He's folding fan and thought of buying it for my second brother since his birthday is coming up. Unfortunately, I forgot that it's also his treasured possession. It was impolite of me."
With that, she bowed to He Ying and smiled, "I hope you can forgive me."
The beauty had a way of conducting herself, a testament to good family upbringing.
Any other man might have been moved by now.
Unfortunately for her, she had encountered He Ying.
He Ying did not do her any favors and said coldly, "I hope you remember today's rudeness and not repeat it in the future."
Jiang Yue: "…"
She was severely embarrassed, her face burning, the redness spreading to her earlobes as if they might bleed.
This Mr. He… does he not fancy her?
Yet she liked him so much.
She was reluctant to give up.
And still thought of finding out more about him.
She tugged at Sang Yan's sleeve and whispered, "Sister-in-law, it's so rare to see you. Shall we go to Qingfeng Inn and listen to Mr. Feng tell a story?"
One owns nothing, yet harbors a breeze in the heart.
Sang Yan had heard of Qingfeng Inn's reputation and was naturally interested. Coupled with He Ying's presence, it was definitely not that simple. To avoid being alone with him, she too had to agree.
"Sure."
She nodded and turned to He Ying with respect, "I still have things to attend to, Mr. He, please forgive me for not being able to accompany you."
He Ying glanced at her and chuckled, "No rush. I've just reserved the place at Qingfeng Inn. If you want to go in, you'll probably have to join me."
Sang Yan: "..."
They could find another place to spend time, thank you very much.
But Jiang Yue eagerly picked up the conversation, "Great! What a coincidence. We'll have to thank Mr. He then."
He Ying found her bothersome and remained coldly silent.
The group made their way to Qingfeng Inn.
Today, Qingfeng Inn was indeed reserved by He Ying.
The upper and lower floors were deserted and eerily quiet.
As Sang Yan entered, she looked around and couldn't help but say, "The hustle and bustle of life, the myriad of human conditions, cannot do without people. Mr. He, by reserving this place, you've taken away much of Qingfeng's charm."
"Haha. The Princely Heir's wife speaks the truth."
A clear male voice rang out from the second floor.
On hearing this, Sang Yan looked up and saw a handsome young man in his twenties, slim and tall, dressed in a grey linen robe, his long hair held back with a rough wooden hairpin, exuding the demeanor of a poor but refined scholar.
"I presume you are Mr. Feng."
Sang Yan returned the smile, with admiration in her eyes—look, this must be the legendary contentment in poverty and scholarly integrity.
He Ying, catching a glimpse of her nearly worshipful expression, frowned, suddenly feeling it was a mistake to have come here.
"Indeed, I am he."
Feng Yicheng clasped his hands together and gave Sang Yan a gracious bow.
Then, lifting his eyes, he looked at Sang Yan wistfully, "It seems the Princely Heir's wife has forgotten me. I once had a friendship with Zuo Zhi."
Zuo Zhi was Jiang Ling's literary name.
Like an upright gentleman, noble and refined as if cut and polished.
Seeing Sang Yan, Feng Yicheng was reminded of the old friend.
Reminded by him, Sang Yan also recalled information about Feng Yicheng from her predecessor's memory: the legitimate eldest grandson of the Imperial Censor, Feng Yi, a friend of Jiang Ling, both had passed the imperial examination together, attaining unlimited glory.
Unfortunately, four years ago, Jiang Ling passed away, and Feng Yicheng also resigned from his official position.
"Oh, it turns out to be the elder brother of the Feng Family."
Sang Yan smiled lightly, "It's been a long time, and I hardly dared to recognize you."
"Cough cough—"
He Ying could not stand to see them getting along so well and coughed a few times.
Upon hearing him, Feng Yicheng tensed up, quickly bowed to He Ying, his tone warm yet filled with respect, "It's an honor to have you here, sir. Forgive me for not greeting you from afar."
He Ying scanned him with a cold gaze and said nothing.
Feng Yicheng, sensing the Emperor was unhappy and that it was because of himself, was puzzled: he had received the message early on and had made careful preparations. Where had he erred to displease him?
Wait, could it be because of Sang Yan?
The Emperor likes Sang Yan?
His expression changed, and he dared not think further.
"Please—"
With a smile and a gesture of his hand, he led the way.
The group proceeded to a private room on the second floor.
A servant had already prepared tea and snacks.
Trails of faint fragrance wafted through the air.
It came from the gilded Flying Fish Stove.
Everything was elegant and exquisite.
This exquisiteness was even evident in the soft cushion on the main seat, where a phoenix embroidered with gold threads seemed ready to take flight.
This was the kind of treatment befitting the Emperor.
No wonder people are madly pursuing power.
But Sang Yan felt pressured—clearly, the dastardly Emperor arranged everything. Was his leaving the palace today all for her? Otherwise, how could he have appeared so conveniently there? And in a shop frequented by women seeking rouge and powder? What exactly did he want to do?