Chapter Sixteen: Rescue

Song Mozi hung his head, his eyes shadowed, still immersed in the words Rong Jiu had just spoken. Who was he, after all? The most handsome man in Jing’an—well, self-proclaimed, perhaps, but the line of admiring women could stretch from the city’s west gate to its east. He had always been the one to reject others; yet today, it was his turn to be refused! He had already laid his sincerity bare, yet Rong Jiu seemed even angrier after hearing him. Did she truly like his elder brother, and wasn’t just making excuses to turn him down?

Song Mozi’s brows knotted in frustration. How could he accept this? Born of the same mother, from childhood on, Song Moting had bested him at everything. Even their mother lavished praise on Moting, doting on him endlessly, while he himself, aside from the emperor’s favor, was outdone at every turn! Now, even the rare girl who caught his interest had been snatched away by his brother! Why should it be so?

His face clouded, Song Mozi slammed his palm on the table with such force that it shattered. The crash silenced the opera on stage, and all eyes turned to the upper floor. The proprietor, sweating profusely, worried that perhaps the performance had displeased the Third Prince, or maybe the tea had not met his standards. He was just about to apologize when Song Mozi swept out the door. Fukang pressed a purse into the proprietor’s hand with a hurried apology and chased after his master.

...

The cacophony of street vendors only made Rong Jiu more irritable as she hurried along with her head down. “Princess, don’t be upset. It’s not worth making yourself ill,” Amu caught up to her, out of breath. “I think the Third Prince might truly care for you!”

“Oh!” Amu hadn’t expected Rong Jiu to stop so suddenly and stumbled into her. “Princess, are you alright? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Rong Jiu turned to her. Though Amu was a year older, she was still a head shorter. Looking down at her aggrieved face, Rong Jiu’s anger dissipated. “Amu, you can’t believe everything you hear. You’re far too naive. Song Mozi’s words were nothing but sweet nonsense meant to coax. If you take them to heart, you’re a fool. For someone like him, honeyed words come as easily as breathing, but how much is genuine?”

Her tone sharpened with bitter memory. Once, believing such words, she had allowed herself to be toyed with—had she not realized in time, the consequences would have been dire.

“Princess, I understand now,” Amu murmured, lowering her head. She always felt something had happened to her mistress; the way she spoke, her gaze—it was as if she had suffered these things herself.

“Pfft, silly Amu, as long as you know. I just worry someone will take advantage of that innocence someday.” Rong Jiu patted her head with a soft laugh.

Amu’s cheeks flushed. “I’ll follow you all my life, Princess. No one will trick me.”

“Nonsense! You can’t follow me forever. One day, you’ll meet someone you like, and then—”

“Oh, Princess, stop—don’t tease me!” Amu stamped her foot, face crimson.

Rong Jiu hadn’t expected Amu to be so easily embarrassed; a few words had her blushing furiously. Her own irritation was gone, replaced by secret amusement.

“Someone’s fallen in the river!” a cry rang out nearby, cutting through the crowd. Rong Jiu’s heart clenched; she dashed toward the commotion, Amu hurrying after her.

“What’s happened?” Rong Jiu asked as she reached the riverbank, where a crowd had already gathered.

“A little girl’s fallen in,” someone replied.

Rong Jiu forced her way to the edge. Seeing the small figure flailing in the water, panic surged through her.

“Why are you all just watching? Someone, help her!” she shouted at the bystanders, but no one moved. As the girl’s struggles weakened, Rong Jiu steeled herself and, rolling up her sleeves, plunged into the river.

Though it was summer, the river water bit to the bone. Rong Jiu clenched her teeth, drawing a sharp breath—she recalled her brothers once said this river was fed by snowmelt from the mountains.

But she couldn’t think about that now. Holding her breath, she dove beneath the surface. Her cumbersome clothes made swimming difficult and slow, but she managed to grasp the sinking child after much effort.

Just then, a luxurious carriage approached the bridge and halted. Inside, Song Moting frowned. “Why have we stopped?”

“Your Highness, the bridge is blocked—the crowd won’t let us through,” Wu Xiao reported after surveying the scene.

“Find out what’s happening,” Song Moting rubbed his temples, some irritation in his tone.

“Yes, sir!” Wu Xiao hurried off, returning shortly in a panic. “Your Highness, it’s terrible! Someone’s fallen in the river—and the Fifth Princess, she’s jumped in to save her!”

“Rong Jiu?” Song Moting’s face darkened further. For a princess of such noble birth to leap in after a commoner—what foolishness was this?

“Shall I—” Wu Xiao began, but thought better of it, remembering how much the prince hated meddling in such affairs.

“Hurry.” Song Moting felt his temples throb. Had it been anyone else, he would have ignored it, but this was Rong Jiu, the Fifth Princess of Xining. If anything happened to her, he would answer to Xining’s court.

Wu Xiao blinked in surprise at the terse command, but rushed to the riverbank.

Song Moting lifted the carriage curtain. Through the crowd, he glimpsed a slight figure in the water, dragging another of similar size toward shore. Despite her exhaustion, she gritted her teeth and pressed on. The scene struck a chord of familiarity, a pang of sorrow and resentment stirring within him.

Meanwhile, Rong Jiu was nearly at the bank when, breathless, she inhaled water and lost her grip. Both she and the child slipped beneath the surface.

“Princess!” Amu was nearly in tears. She couldn’t swim and could only beg for help, but the crowd remained unmoved.

At that moment, someone plunged into the river, emerging moments later with both Rong Jiu and the rescued girl.

Amu’s fear turned to joy as she rushed to help.

Song Mozi and Fukang happened by just as Amu, drenched, ushered Rong Jiu into a carriage, then returned for the girl.

“What is it, Master?” Fukang asked, puzzled by Song Mozi’s lingering gaze on the carriage ahead.

“Nothing.”

Though he said this, Song Mozi’s eyes never left the retreating carriage until it vanished into the crowd.

He was certain—that was Song Moting’s carriage!

“Find out what just happened here,” Song Mozi ordered, his fist clenching in his sleeve.

...

A bout of coughing brought Rong Jiu back to herself. Blinking, she found she was leaning inside a carriage, the faint scent of tea in the air.

Wait—hadn’t she jumped in the river to save someone?

She opened her eyes fully, her throat sore, her clothes clammy. Looking up, she saw Song Moting seated not far away, his demeanor as aloof as ever.

Her eyes stung with tears. “You saved me.”

“If you lack the skill, don’t play the hero,” his cold voice replied.

Yet beneath the frost, Rong Jiu felt a faint warmth.

“I—I just acted on impulse. So many people watching, yet no one would help. I couldn’t just stand by and let her drown. Wait—where is the little girl?” She glanced around, realizing the child wasn’t there, and stared wide-eyed at Song Moting. “Heavens, don’t tell me you left her behind!”

“Rest assured, I am not so heartless. She’s in the carriage behind us. Your maidservant is looking after her,” Song Moting replied, not sparing her a glance as he sipped his tea.

Rong Jiu’s face lit up with admiration. “I knew I chose the right person!”

“Hmm?” Song Moting looked up.

“Ahem, nothing—I mean, I knew I wasn’t mistaken about you, Your Highness. You’re not as cold as you seem.” Rong Jiu scratched her head, turning away in embarrassment. She’d nearly let slip too much!

“I would not have helped if it were anyone else.”

“So I’m not just ‘anyone’ to you?” Rong Jiu’s eyes sparkled.

Song Moting said nothing, continuing his tea as if he hadn’t heard.

Rong Jiu, however, took his silence as tacit agreement, her joy only growing. Little did she know that Song Moting simply deemed the question too foolish to answer.

His meaning was merely that, as she was the Xining princess sent for a political marriage, he had no choice but to ensure her safety—not that Rong Jiu, in her delight, realized this at all.

“Your Highness, we’ve arrived.”

The carriage slowed to a stop. Rong Jiu lifted the curtain and saw the characters “Rongyuan” above the gate.

“Thank you. I’ll go now, but I’ll be sure to visit and thank you in person another day!” Rong Jiu beamed at Song Moting, emphasizing her promise.

“You plan to go out like that? Aren’t you afraid of being laughed at?” Song Moting remarked coolly.

Rong Jiu glanced down and saw that her wet clothes clung tightly to her, outlining her figure. Instantly, her cheeks burned scarlet.

“Take this.” Song Moting, at some point, had removed his outer robe and was handing it to her.

“Is it beneath you?” he asked as she hesitated, brows furrowing.

She looked up to see his gaze, and before he could say more, she snatched the robe and hurried off the carriage.

“I’ll be sure to return it in person, Your Highness!”

Her clear voice drifted back from outside.

Song Moting lifted the curtain, catching sight of Rong Jiu running toward the gate, his robe draped about her. Just before reaching the entrance, she turned and glanced back at him. Alarmed, he quickly let the curtain fall.

Surely she hadn’t misunderstood his intentions?

Song Moting recalled her bashful expression from earlier and found it oddly endearing.

“Let’s go,” he called to the driver, unaware that a faint smile lingered on his lips.

Strangely, his mood had markedly improved.