Chapter Nineteen: All for Nothing

The Prince’s Residence stood at the quietest corner of Sunset Street in Jing’an City. Though grand in scale, its halls were filled with silence, much like Song Moting’s own tranquil and aloof nature.

The distance from Rong Garden to the Prince’s Residence was as if one lay in the south and the other in the north, separated by at least ten streets in between.

Just as Rong Jiu was about to doze off from boredom, the carriage creaked to a halt.

“Princess, we’ve arrived,” came Mo Ningshu’s voice from outside.

“At last! I was nearly asleep.” Rong Jiu stretched lazily, tidied her attire, and said, “A Mu, take a look—has my hairpin become messy?”

“Not at all, Princess! You look especially lovely today,” A Mu replied with a cheerful smile.

“You’re always flattering me! All right, help me down quickly.” Rong Jiu laughed, her face blooming like a flower.

Their voices were soft, yet Mo Ningshu, waiting outside the carriage, heard every word clearly. His mood felt unsettled, though he couldn’t fathom why.

After alighting, Rong Jiu instructed Mo Ningshu to wait by the carriage, then strode eagerly toward the gate with A Mu in tow.

She certainly didn’t want to bring Mo Ningshu, that big, glaring presence, inside!

At this moment, the gates of the residence were tightly shut. Only two guards stood outside, and seeing Rong Jiu and A Mu approach, they blocked their path without hesitation.

“Who are you? The Prince’s Residence is not a place for the likes of you.”

“Brother guard, we’re here to see the prince. Could you let us in?” Rong Jiu asked with a smile.

“Outrageous! The prince is not someone you can meet at will. If you know what’s good for you, leave now, or don’t blame us for being harsh!”

The guards eyed Rong Jiu up and down, noting her fine attire and the maid beside her. They assumed she was yet another wealthy young lady infatuated with their master, and looked down on her.

After all, she wasn’t the first to waste their time—could they afford such delays? A Mu could no longer hold back and scolded, “Just two guards, and you dare block my princess? Are you tired of living?”

“This... we did not know. Fifth Princess, please forgive us!” At her words, the two immediately knelt.

They had heard of the Fifth Princess of Xining, though they hadn’t realized she was the young woman before them. Now, fear crept into their hearts.

“Enough, I won’t hold it against you. Let me in, that’s all,” Rong Jiu waved her hand, surprised by how useful her title was—A Mu truly was formidable!

“Your Highness, our prince is not in the residence at the moment.”

“What?”

Rong Jiu was nearly furious. Was this some sort of cruel trick?

“Do you know where he went?” she asked, still unwilling to give up.

“To Qian’an Temple on Mount Mulong, outside the city.”

Qian’an Temple? Flowers, trees, a pleasant environment—perfect for a rendezvous!

“Thank you!” Rong Jiu was delighted and hurried off with A Mu.

Meanwhile, within Qian’an Temple, Song Moting was playing chess with the abbot in a pavilion.

On the board, black pieces were poised for attack, while the white pieces—his—were at a dead end.

Song Moting held a white piece between his fingers, unable to find a move, his handsome brows slightly furrowed.

“This round, I’ve lost again,” he said.

“Hahaha, Your Highness is not yourself today. I imagine you’ve encountered some troubling matters recently. In my view, it’s best we end our sparring here,” the abbot said, stroking his long, white beard with a smile.

“Master, you are indeed insightful. I have faced some headaches lately.” Song Moting set down his piece and stood, his gaze drifting to the lotus pond beyond the pavilion.

“What troubles the prince must surely be that matter again,” the abbot said, coming to stand beside him and following his gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“Yes, this morning my father spoke to me about it once more.”

“You still insist on your stance?”

“What I care about has never been those things. I’m used to freedom, and wish only for peace. But this time, my father has given me yet another difficult problem.” Song Moting looked up at the clouds, his mind replaying his conversation with Song Mian.

...

“Father summoned me early—surely not just to watch you play with birds?” Song Moting said, watching Song Mian, who stood at the window teasing his birds, feeling somewhat impatient.

Song Mian paused, then sighed, unsure where to begin.

“If you won’t speak, Father, I’ll take my leave,” Song Moting said, rising to depart.

“So you’ve grown up, and have less regard for your father. Hah, can’t I ask you to accompany me for a while?”

“If you want someone to talk to, you might as well summon my third brother,” Song Moting replied coolly.

“In truth, I called you here to...”

“If it’s still that matter, there’s no need, Father. I do not agree,” Song Moting interrupted, leaving Song Mian momentarily speechless. As emperor, he was rarely confronted this way—but only with this son did he find himself tongue-tied.

“Ting’er, you know I do this for your own good, and it’s also your mother’s wish,” Song Mian said, coming swiftly to his son’s side, trying again to persuade him.

“Mother’s wish? Hah, isn’t this really yours and my third brother’s?” Song Moting turned slightly, meeting Song Mian’s gaze. His deep eyes were faintly cold. “From childhood, anything my third brother didn’t want to do, I was made to do. Father, have you ever considered my feelings? Do you know what I like, what I despise?”

“This...” Song Mian was momentarily lost for words. He knew he had neglected his son, but it was all for his future.

“Sigh, enough. Since you’re unwilling, I won’t press further. But there is one condition. If you accept it, I promise never to force you again.”

“What is it?”

“Promise me you’ll marry the Fifth Princess of Xining, and I guarantee I’ll never constrain you again,” Song Mian said.

“What if I refuse?” Song Moting’s anger flared.

Why must he always do what Song Mozi wouldn’t?

“You must understand, being of the royal family, this is your duty. No matter what, you can’t escape it,” Song Mian’s tone grew stern.

“Duty? Hah, and what about Song Mozi? He’s also a prince—what duty has he ever borne?” Song Moting sneered.

“Zi’er is your younger brother, you are the elder. So...” Song Mian paused, then softened his tone. “Go home and think carefully on what I’ve said. Remember, you have only one choice.”

The memories faded. Song Moting closed his eyes. The abbot withdrew his gaze from afar, turned slightly, and squinted, “So, Your Highness, your choice is...?”

“I never make choices,” Song Moting replied after a moment.

“Hahaha.” The abbot shook his head with a laugh, unsurprised by the answer.

Qian’an Temple sat halfway up Mount Mulong, blessed with excellent geomancy, surrounded by lush bamboo groves. There was only one path from the foot of the mountain to the temple—a long staircase.

Thus, anyone coming to Qian’an Temple to pray must walk up after arriving by carriage at the base.

Even so, the crowds never ceased, for the temple’s prayers were famously effective.

Rong Jiu gazed at the seemingly endless staircase, despairing. Since arriving in this world, she hadn’t exercised; always riding or carried, never climbing such stairs!

Who designed this? Come out now—I need to have a word with you about life!

She grumbled to herself as she climbed.

By the time she finally reached the top, she was nearly at her wit’s end.

Qian’an Temple was large and bustling. Rong Jiu questioned several monks before finding out where Song Moting was. The thought of seeing her idol soon swept away her exhaustion, filling her with energy.

Yet, someone was not nearly so pleased...

“What brings you here?” Song Moting rubbed his throbbing temple. This troublesome girl never left him alone—no matter where he went, she found him.

“I came especially to see you!” Rong Jiu replied with a smile.

“Oh?” Song Moting’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m here to return your robe,” Rong Jiu said, presenting the neatly folded garment with a childlike, expectant grin.

“It’s just a robe. I have plenty—throw it away if you wish. There’s no need for you to bring it in person. Besides, I never use things others have touched,” Song Moting said, not even glancing at it before tossing it aside.

“You...” Rong Jiu was stunned, unable to react, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“Princess, it’s best you return home soon. Jing’an City has been unsafe lately—you shouldn’t wander about,” Song Moting said, turning away without another word, leaving Rong Jiu bewildered.

After a few steps, Song Moting regretted his harsh words. She was only returning his belongings, yet he had vented his anger on her. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to apologize.

“Princess, are you all right?” A Mu asked, worried by Rong Jiu’s dazed expression.

“A Mu, do you think he dislikes me? He threw away the robe so easily, after I worked all night on it...”

“The prince is always like this—cold to everyone. Don’t be sad, Princess. If he doesn’t like you, there are others.”

“But... I only have eyes for him.” Rong Jiu pouted, picking up the discarded robe and carefully dusting it off. “Maybe he’s just in a bad mood today. I’ll return it next time.”

By the time Rong Jiu and A Mu reached the foot of the mountain, the sun was nearly setting. Mo Ningshu was still waiting patiently.

Rong Jiu had spent ages persuading him to stay put, only to have her efforts come to nothing.

Mo Ningshu saw Rong Jiu’s drooping head and lackluster spirit, like a wilted flower, and guessed the result. For some reason, he felt a faint sense of relief.