The Prince Consort's Secret (GL) - Chapter 15

Naturally, Ning Guangshi was recognized instantly. Aside from praising his poem, people also began gossiping about his past scandals. Yet he just grinned, completely unfazed—and the more I glared at him in outrage, the happier he seemed. That man seriously needs to be taught a lesson. Noted.

Soon, it was Qin Huaiyu and the Crown Prince’s turn. They each stood, recited a verse, drank their wine, and sat back down. Then… it was my turn.

Under the watchful, some amused, some sympathetic stares of the crowd, I braced myself, stood up, and felt the weight of every gaze. I also noticed how the scholar’s section had suddenly quieted. I gave an awkward cough, just about to speak, when Su Wan’er’s teasing voice rang out:

“Why so shy, Young Master Mu? Come now, show us the elegance of a top-ranking scholar.”

The officials snapped out of their daze and chimed in,

“Yes, yes, let us admire Young Master Mu’s talents.”

Acting like they didn’t already know? Bravo. A round of applause for their performance—but could they not whisper like they’re in some secret meeting?

Even the literati started egging me on with cries of “Young Master Mu!” Though some wore puzzled expressions—they must have recognized Mu Han. Even those who didn’t would likely hear whispers from the officials soon enough: the suspicion that I might be the Princess in disguise.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Apologizing to Ning Guangshi for the earlier disruption, I then made a show of thinking deeply. Composing a poem? Easy. The problem was, I only remembered good poems—ones famous enough to draw even more attention.

But at this point, it hardly mattered. After tonight, the story of the Princess of Great Qi dressing as a man to visit a brothel would spread across the court, among scholars, and then all over Bianjing. If I gained a reputation as a poet too? So be it.

I quickly settled on a poem, then recited:

Before the white jade hall, spring dances unfurl,

The eastern breeze swirls all evenly around.

Swarms of bees, flocks of butterflies, a chaotic flurry—

Yet though they follow the flowing stream,

They never yield to dust or ground.

A thousand threads, ten thousand strands—

Still unchanged in heart or mind.

Do not mock this rootless bloom of spring;

With the help of a timely breeze,

It soars above to the azure skies.

This was Baochai’s “Song of Catkins” from Dream of the Red Chamber—my favorite, second only to Su Shi’s “Let wind and rain come, I’ll live as I please.” After finishing, I calmly drank three cups of wine and bowed slightly before sitting back down.

Applause erupted. Everyone praised the poem’s tone of freedom and serenity—it broke from the traditional melancholy associated with floating catkins and gave a refreshing, new perspective.

I smirked inwardly. No one could tie the last line to some hidden rivalry over marrying Baoyu this time—because in this world, Dream of the Red Chamber didn’t exist.

After I sat, the Crown Prince gave me a thumbs-up. Ning Guangshi, grinning as ever, raised his cup.

“To have witnessed such talent tonight—I can die happy. I toast you, Brother!”

I gave him a look and ignored him. He didn’t mind, drinking cheerfully anyway.

There was still a lot of chatter behind us, mostly praise. Thankfully, our table was close to the stage and off to the side, so I shifted my seat to face away from the crowd and escape their endless stares. But even after

a while, the murmuring didn’t die down.

Just then, Big Xiao stood. Looked like he was going to recite a poem. Everyone quieted respectfully.

I glanced at him with gratitude—only to see Little Xiao stand up as well. The two bowed together and said,

“With Young Master Mu’s brilliance before us, we dare not show off. We’ll skip the poetry and instead drink five cups each as our forfeit.”

As they each lifted and drained their wine, the crowd agreed enthusiastically. Once the brothers sat back down, the focus inevitably turned to me again.

I rose quietly and said I needed to use the privy. No sooner had I stood than Big Xiao followed suit, claiming he also needed to go. Then Qin Huaiyu got up and said he’d join us too.

I nearly rolled my eyes. So it’s not just women—men go to the bathroom in groups too?

Halfway there, I chuckled.

“I’ll head upstairs for a bit. You two go ahead.”

Qin Huaiyu nodded with a smile. Big Xiao, on the other hand, looked slightly puzzled—probably wondering why I seemed annoyed after such a shining moment. He was seated at our table, so the gossip about me being the Princess hadn’t reached him yet.

I climbed the stairs to the second floor. It was lined with private rooms meant for guests to drink and recite poetry—or do… other things—with chosen courtesans. But since tonight was Han Wu’er’s grand appearance, most of the patrons were downstairs, making the upper floor unusually quiet. Only the occasional guard or servant passed by.

I stepped out onto the balcony. It was deserted. The moon hung low in the sky. A cool breeze stirred the air. Nearby, the bustling quarter was still brightly lit, but farther off, darkness swallowed everything—broken only by scattered lights from wealthy households. The din from below still reached my ears, but it was muffled, distant.

Finally—peace. But unease quickly followed. This setting was too quiet, too risky.

Still, I reminded myself that this wasn’t the Princess’s first secret outing. Nothing bad had ever happened before. The royal guards were always nearby, protecting me in the shadows. Surely, a few were posted around here.

That thought comforted me slightly. I began reviewing everything that had just happened. I’d revealed myself—too late to undo it. The worst that would happen was my name spreading through the upper echelons of Bianjing… and beyond. But reputation meant nothing to me. As long as it didn’t affect my daily life, and no one dared to yap about it in front of me, I was fine.

After all, even those who knew I was the Princess didn’t dare say it aloud.

Maybe this world wasn’t as conservative as I thought. Perhaps this incident would trigger a new wave of female emancipation! …Okay, that’s wishful thinking—but let me dream for a moment.

I drifted further into my thoughts… until I heard faint footsteps behind me. Before I could turn, a cold blade was suddenly pressed to my throat.

A lighthearted voice spoke:

“Apologies, Young Master Mu.”

It was Little Xiao.

So I was right to be suspicious. But wait—wasn’t he one of Ning Guangshi’s men? Why would he abduct me, a princess? If this was about the fight for the throne, wouldn’t it make more sense to assassinate the

Crown Prince directly?

Please let this be a joke…

I forced a smile.

“Brother Xiao, not the time for games, surely?”

The blade didn’t move.

“I don’t have time for games, and neither do you. Don’t pretend, Young Master Mu. You know exactly why I’m here.”

Like hell I do!

Panic surged through me. If this were a joke, the guards would have shown themselves by now. But there was no sign of them. Damn it. Were they taken out already? Just my luck—leave the palace once and walk straight into disaster. My luck must be cursed.

Still fuming, I felt him grab my arm. He was clearly planning to flee with me. And as he laughed again, he muttered:

“Just as I thought—Central Plains folk are idiots. Couldn’t even catch a doctor who doesn’t know martial arts. Hahaha—”

His laughter cut off.

With one swift move, I dodged the blade and slipped from his grasp. He crashed to the ground, knife clattering beside him.

I shook my head. Never lower your guard—not even against the clumsiest opponent. One lapse, and you’ll be the one lying on the floor.

I’d spared him only because I needed answers. Any one of the thirty-odd acupoints on his body could’ve been his end if I’d used a needle there. Good thing I always kept a pouch of silver needles tucked in my sleeve—originally just for flair, to feel like a medical warrior, but hey, it finally came in handy.

His last words stuck with me: “Central Plains folk…”

So he’s not from around here. And he mentioned collusion. That made him either a Khitan from the north, a Miao from the south, or a Tibetan from the west.

I crouched and removed his cap. His scalp was shaved clean, leaving only tufts on the sides and front.

A Khitan.

I sighed. Ancient hairstyles from ethnic tribes—what a headache. But more importantly, this was serious. Khitan agents in the capital while we were at war with them? This was a crisis worthy of Father Emperor’s personal attention.

I replaced his headpiece and mulled it over. Why would a Khitan target me? If he thought I was Mu Han, then perhaps Ning Guangshi’s group was not involved. They knew my real identity. So Big Xiao and Little

Xiao must not be aligned with him.

But what use did the Khitan have for Mu Han?

Too many unknowns. For now, I had a more immediate concern: how to deal with this unconscious assassin without alarming the brothel. Probably needed to invoke the Crown Prince’s name.

I turned to head back downstairs—but then remembered: Big Xiao had gone to the restroom with Qin Huaiyu. What if—?

Before I could finish the thought, someone silently leapt onto the balcony.

He smiled at me, then glanced at the unconscious Khitan man with open disdain.

Big Xiao. Speak of the devil…

No point hiding now. He was clearly skilled, cautious, and fully aware.

He stepped forward with a grin and jabbed my shoulder sharply. A surge of numbness spread across my body. I couldn’t move.

Well, that’s the last bit of hope gone.

He grabbed my arm and leapt into the air, carrying me away as we soared over rooftops under the moonlight.

I could only smile bitterly.

Looks like I really was destined to be kidnapped tonight.