The next morning, Princess Suo Li of the Gu tribe arrived at Prince Yu's residence with Grand Prince Nai'an and Third Prince Xicheng in tow. To receive such honored guests, Zhongli Mingye had arranged a welcome at the Willow Garden. Because the visiting guests included a princess, he’d specially asked Rong Qing'er of the Rong Duke’s household and Song Jinyu, the governor’s daughter from Liuzhou, to attend as hostesses. Daughters of other officials and a handful of young gentlemen came with them.
“I don’t want to go…” The message reached the Song household, and Song Jinyu felt a sudden, inexplicable sulk. Why did she have to be paired with Rong Qing'er? She hated the idea.
Song Qinzhou scowled when he heard it. “Refusing makes you look petty,” he said. “Besides, the prince himself ordered it — do you want me to be disgraced?” That last line carried a sharpness that made Song Jinyu relent. She had to take the invitation.
At least Lin Ziyu was going too. That thought steadied her; she’d decided not to seek attention. If anything, she wanted to bury herself like an ostrich and not be seen. The idea of being forced into a rivalry with Rong Qing'er made her blood boil. And the fact Zhongli Mingye had arranged for them to stand together felt like an insult — as if he wanted both of them in the same place for his amusement. The more she thought about it, the worse her temper grew. By the time Lin Ziyu came to fetch her, Song Jinyu’s expression had hardened; Lin Ziyu flinched at the sight.
At the inn, Rong Qing'er had just received the prince’s instructions and was all smiles. Though she and Song Jinyu were both to assist in welcoming the princess, as a daughter of the Rong household she was certain to outshine the governor’s girl. She had set her mind on stealing the scene — and showing Song Jinyu her place.
“Why aren’t you wearing your dress yet?” Lin Ziyu asked when she found Song Jinyu almost ghostly pale. She assumed illness; she couldn’t have guessed Song Jinyu’s real worry.
A maid entered carrying a stack of garments. “Miss, this pale lilac silk will suit your complexion,” she said.
Song Jinyu’s eyes widened. “He had clothes made for me?” she blurted.
Lin Ziyu chuckled. “The prince is considerate…” She was inwardly glad for her brother; it was flattering, but also awkward.
The maid Mi Cui leaned in. “The fabric is from the palace,” she whispered.
By the time they arrived at Willow Garden, Rong Qing'er was already there, dressed to the nines and chatting intimately with Princess Suo Li. She let slip, in casual ways, that she was the prince’s favored concubine, which drew the princess’s attention.
When Song Jinyu entered, Princess Suo Li’s gaze lingered. For years the princess had been called the “Pearl of the Steppe” for her beauty, and though she was lovely, she could not help noticing the newcomer. Song Jinyu, in her pale lavender silk, looked like someone carved from porcelain — skin like frozen cream, a slender waist you could almost encircle with one hand, a face that held the bright, unseasoned clarity of youth. She moved quietly into the room without a word, and instantly the eyes of the hall turned toward her.
Zhongli Mingye’s look settled on her; for the first time since she was a child, he thought, she’d begun to grow up. That thought pleased him — until he saw the two princes staring with visible surprise. His mood soured at the sight.
Rong Qing'er’s smile twisted as Song Jinyu crossed the room. “A painted vixen,” she muttered under her breath.
She had planned to be the star of the event and to eclipse Song Jinyu. On a prearranged signal, the maid at her side fell into the role of primed accomplice—prepared to support Rong Qing'er’s show.
After the customary greetings, Song Jinyu and Lin Ziyu sat at a modest distance. Princess Suo Li, struck by Song Jinyu’s quiet beauty and uninterested in ostentation, nodded toward her. “Miss Song, come sit nearer,” she invited.
Song Jinyu was not fond of familiar intimacy with strangers, yet she did not want to refuse the princess’s courtesy, so she moved forward and took a seat with a polite, reserved smile.
“You ladies of the Central Plains aristocracy must be skilled in the arts,” Princess Suo Li said brightly. “On the steppe we’ve heard that governor’s daughters are versed in poetry, painting, the zither, and all that. Is it true?”
Rong Qing'er smiled and answered smoothly, “It’s not untrue,” and immediately offered to perform. Her opening gambit made several of the other young women fidget nervously. Lin Ziyu whispered, “That girl from the capital is insufferable.”
“She can have her moment,” Song Jinyu replied with a shrug. “We’re here to eat and drink — if we don’t perform, what does it matter?”
Zhongli Mingye watched Song Jinyu as if reading her mind. When she glanced back at him, he lifted his cup and offered a distant salute. She ignored it; he smiled and drank, amused.
After Rong Qing'er finished a polished, fashionable dance — one of the capital’s current trends — she looked around pleased with herself. “That’s a popular piece from the capital,” she announced, basking in the murmurs of admiration.
Princess Suo Li’s eyes lit up. She wanted to dance too, but before she could make a move, Rong Qing'er glanced at Song Jinyu and said, “Does Miss Song have anything to offer for the princess and princes?”
That question rankled. Song Jinyu put on an innocent expression. She’d seen Princess Suo Li eager to join in and smiled. “I have nothing to perform that would be entertaining,” she demurred. “I wouldn’t wish to make a fool of myself. But—”
“We’ve heard your people love song and dance on the steppe,” Princess Suo Li cut in with excitement. “Let us see! Please do show us.”
The princess’s cheerfulness was infectious; she stepped down and changed into the garments of her people. When she came out, she danced a lively steppe dance to the haunting strains of a horse-head fiddle. The music was raw and open, the movements unstudied and free. Lin Ziyu clapped delightedly; Song Jinyu watched with genuine pleasure. She loved sincerity — performances that sprung from feeling, not from affectation and rehearsed fluttering.
Princess Suo Li’s technique was not flawless, but it was honest. The hall, catching the rhythm, began to move along with her. The atmosphere warmed and brightened in a way Rong Qing'er’s polished routine had failed to achieve. Rong Qing'er felt herself losing face.
And she blamed Song Jinyu — because it had been Song’s presence and the princess’s spontaneity that had drawn the crowd.
When the dance ended, applause broke out. Rong Qing'er, stung, tried to press Song Jinyu into performing after all. Zhongli Mingye rose smoothly and cut her off.
“The princess’s dance was charming in its sincerity — a fitting display of the ‘Pearl of the Steppe,’” he said, and signaled for a maid to present a gift. Princess Suo Li beamed, pleased and honored, and the two visiting princes’ dignity was duly respected.