“Someone who won’t take advantage of a bargain is a damned fool!” Su Yueyue’s brows drew together in a tight frown. She wanted to snap back, but dared not, out of deference to Prince Yu’s presence.
Prince Yu raised an amused eyebrow and let the smile at the corner of his mouth grow. He had always thought Su Mingyu a little too plain and modest — this other side of her surprised him, and he found it entertaining. “Shall we return? The banquet should be starting soon.”
Su Mingyu had just finished changing when Zhizhu’s voice came from outside the door. “Miss, Prince Yu and the second miss have already left.”
She opened the door. “Did the prince say anything?”
Zhizhu stared at Su Mingyu as if at something odd. She nodded, then answered haltingly, “How did you know what the prince said? He asked that you come early for supper, and he said your Mao Feng tea has run out — that someone should fetch it from his residence.”
Su Mingyu’s face showed nothing. “I see. Today you don’t need to come with me. Don’t let Su Yueyue take her anger out on you.”
“But—” Zhizhu still worried. “The way the prince was looking at you…even I noticed something was off. Miss, please don’t do anything foolish at a crucial moment.”
Su Mingyu ruffled the maid’s hair. “I know.”
When Su Mingyu drifted in from the hall, everyone’s eyes fell on her. She wore a simple, elegant gray gown; her black hair was tied back with a pale moon-colored ribbon in a lazy, loose knot. Against the formality of the room, she looked oddly out of place — and because of that, she stood out.
Prince Yu’s gaze flicked. He had always known she wasn’t unattractive; now, with age softening her features, there was a subtle beauty that threatened to eclipse Su Yueyue’s.
Su Zhengyi started too. He’d raised this daughter at his side and yet never really looked at her closely before. Now, taking her in, he found himself surprised. As the child of Ye Mengdie, perhaps this should have been expected, and he allowed himself a small, shaken laugh. “If her mother could see her now, she’d rest in peace.”
Su Mingyu’s smile faltered at the mention of Ye Mengdie, but she composed herself and offered a polite greeting, “Mingyu apologizes for being late.”
“It’s not too late,” Prince Yu returned with a smile. “Just in time to begin the banquet.”
She glided to the seat beside Su Zhengyi. He waved his hand, half-joking, half-gracious. “We’re family — no need to be formal. Eat.”
During the meal Su Mingyu finally learned that Prince Yu and Su Yueyue’s wedding was set for after the autumn hunt. The prince would be busy overseeing the event himself, so the marriage had to wait. By the next morning, the whole capital buzzed with the news that Su Yueyue was to marry Prince Yu — and that Prince Yu had personally gone to the Su residence to propose.
Predictably, the mood shifted from scorn to envy.
But Su Mingyu paid the gossip little mind. What occupied her was the Mao Feng tea Su Yueyue had sent. The moment she had it in her hands she ordered Zhizhu to find a box worthy of such a treasure. Zhizhu fretted over her mistress’s lack of urgency; just as she was about to speak, Su Mingyu, holding the tea box and the pastries she had prepared earlier, was already heading out.
“Miss, where are you off to now?” Zhizhu asked.
Su Mingyu smiled, but there was a mischievous set to it. “To do a good deed.”
Then she disappeared toward the gate, and Zhizhu could only sigh.
Outside the back gate a familiar carriage waited. Su Mingyu climbed up, lifted the curtain, and found Gu Ruobai inside.
“You’re early,” he said.
She grinned and hopped in. Rummaging through the boxes in the carriage, she raised an eyebrow. “You really spared no expense.”
There were lingzhi and ginseng, small luxuries; strings of night pearls gleamed like clustered beads; and other precious things Su Mingyu couldn’t name at a glance. Gu Ruobai had been extravagant.
Seeing the light in her eyes made him tilt his head. “Even all this pales beside you.”
Heat rose to Su Mingyu’s cheeks. He made flirting sound effortless and cheap, as if he’d always had a silver tongue to spare. After a moment she narrowed her eyes. “You forgot one important thing.”
Gu Ruobai’s gaze sharpened. “Old Madam Ye loves the Four Treasures of the Study. The inkstone I brought was a gift from my father; the brushes are made from the finest sable. What else?”
Su Mingyu smiled, mysteriously, and opened the box she held. Nestled in a small porcelain jar was a cache of tea leaves.
“Mao Feng?” Gu Ruobai, who liked his tea, recognized it at once.
Su Mingyu nodded. “Exactly. Mao Feng. Don’t you know Old Madam Ye is fond of her tea? This—this kind is reserved each year for the palace. Tea lovers would kill to have it.”
Gu Ruobai blinked. He’d thought to bring jewelry — things any woman would like — and hadn’t considered tea. “How did you get your hands on this?” he asked. His own father had once given him a little, but never enough to spare.
Su Mingyu raised an eyebrow and recounted yesterday’s scheme. Gu Ruobai let out a small, rueful laugh. “So you played her at her own game and got it from Su Yueyue?”
She smiled, unapologetic. “Anyone who won’t seize a bargain is a damned fool.”
“You…” He didn’t know whether to laugh or be annoyed that she’d edged closer to Prince Yu. “Su Yueyue will be furious. This tea can’t be bought anywhere — when it appears it’s priceless.”
“That’s not my concern.” She placed the tea box among Gu Ruobai’s other gifts.
The carriage rocked toward the Ye estate. Su Mingyu had alerted Qingfeng the night before, so he was waiting at the gate.
“Your Highness Prince Ruixian, Miss Su,” he greeted.
Su Mingyu waved him off with a raised brow. “No need for so much formality. Lead the way.”
Through the carved, antique lintels she entered the main hall. At last she saw Old Madam Ye in all her solemn authority: a woman of few smiles whose presence itself compelled silence.
Gu Ruobai, as a prince, did not bow; he and Ye Weiguang merely exchanged a glance and a nod — greetings in their own right.
“Sit,” Ye Weiguang said, brightening at the sight of his granddaughter. He had not seen Su Mingyu in days and a smile slipped onto his face.
Before he could finish, a voice, slightly hoarse with age yet still sharp, cut through the room: “There is no place here for members of the Su family.”