A Precious Pearl in the Imperial City-Chapter 123

The grand ceremony for the investiture of the Crown Prince was so magnificent that the court officials couldn't help but suspect His Majesty had long been plotting this.

Yet no one dared to voice such thoughts.

The old prince recited a lengthy proclamation filled with lavish praises for the Fifth Prince. The effusive compliments were so shamelessly over-the-top that everyone once again suspected the Emperor himself had penned it.

Only a doting father could compose such words—and mean every single one of them.

When the golden seal and treasure registry of the Crown Prince were presented, it was the Emperor himself who placed them into the Fifth Prince's hands. His Majesty's favor and affection for the prince were now laid bare without the slightest pretense.

"All ministers shall now bow to the Crown Prince."

"Bow."

The entire court prostrated in unison as music swelled and the morning sun rose, illuminating every inch of the Great Cheng Empire.

As the sea of heads lowered before him, Yun Duqing turned slightly to glance at Jiuzhu standing below the steps.

Their eyes met. Clutching the jeweled box containing the Crown Prince's seal, he gave her a tender smile.

This ceremony, so momentous in others' eyes, held true meaning for him only because she was there.

Prince Huai stood among the ranks, gazing up at Yun Duqing atop the high platform. His heart surged like morning tides and sea fog before he finally bowed deeply.

Beside him, Prince An had already prostrated himself with even more enthusiasm than the civil and military officials.

"Elder Brother," Prince An whispered, "Do you think Fifth Brother's crown is made of solid gold? Must be dreadfully heavy."

Prince Huai shot him a sidelong glance and said nothing.

Among all the imperial brothers, there was a reason none considered the second prince a rival.

When the bows concluded, Prince Huai glanced at Prince Jing, who had remained silent beside Prince An.

Noticing the look, Prince Jing offered him a slight cupped-hand salute.

Prince Huai averted his eyes disdainfully—spare him the courtesy from this "dear third brother."

Seeing his elder brother's indifference, Prince Jing gave Prince An a helpless smile. Unfortunately, Prince An's attention was wholly fixated on Yun Duqing's golden crown, completely missing the expression.

The smile gradually faded from Prince Jing's face. Composing himself, he looked up to where the Emperor was adjusting the ceremonial crown on Yun Duqing's head.

No one cared whether this third prince was pleased or angered. No one even spared a thought for his mother, recently demoted from Consort Lü to Concubine Wei.

Whether in good times or bad, he remained but a weed by the wall, a pebble on the roadside—unnoticed and insignificant.

After the grand ceremony concluded, aside from the Emperor's obvious favor toward the Crown Prince, what set the capital's women abuzz was how the Crown Prince had insisted on leading the Crown Princess by hand into the Zheng Yang Hall.

The city's storytellers swiftly updated their repertoire, replacing tales of the "Overbearing Prince" with new sagas of the "Overbearing Crown Prince." Female patrons adored hearing accounts of the prince's devotion, and storytellers reaped generous rewards whenever they spun such narratives.

Of course, some male listeners grumbled that a mighty Crown Prince ought to have eight or ten women pining for him.

But their opinions carried little weight against the female patrons' lavish tips.

Perhaps ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌‍because real-life faithless men were too common, when a story featured a genuinely devoted protagonist, no woman wanted him reduced to the usual harem-collecting trope.

When male patrons mocked the women's naivety, they retorted: "Even our Great Cheng's actual Crown Prince keeps no concubines! Why can't a fictional Overbearing Crown Prince stay true to one woman?"

The men were left speechless. Beaten in the debate, they could only mutter, "The Crown Prince will take concubines eventually," before fleeing the women's glares.

As they scurried away, they shook their heads—capital women were splendid in every way, if only they weren't so terrifyingly bold.

When the two masters entered the capital gates, they witnessed a man being kicked to the ground by a young woman dressed in male attire, to the applause of surrounding spectators.

"Stealing from elders? You're worse than pigs or dogs!"

Only after the thief had endured several punches did the constables finally call out, "Make way, everyone! We'll take this scoundrel to the magistrate for trial."

"Thank you, officers!"

The crowd cheerfully parted. Someone even asked if the constables wanted to buy a pound of meat for later.

"Save me a good marbled cut—I'll pick it up after my shift," one officer said, handing coins to the butcher as deposit before hauling the thief away, not forgetting to remind him: "Make sure it's well-marbled!"

The butcher chuckled in agreement, selecting a slab to set aside. Noticing the two Daoist priestesses nearby, he tossed scrap meat to a meowing stray cat.

"Reverend Masters, if you seek produce, the market's further in," the butcher said, wiping greasy hands on his apron and pointing down the lane.

"Our thanks. We're visiting family in the capital," the Eldest Master returned a Daoist salute. "Might you direct us to Vice Minister Ming's residence?"

"The Ming household that produced two top scholars and a third-rank graduate?" The butcher's eyes lit up.

"The very one."

"Go left at the end of this lane, then two streets over—you can't miss it," the butcher said eagerly. "If you get turned around, anyone can point the way."

"Our gratitude, kind benefactor."

"Think nothing of it." As the priestesses departed, the butcher murmured, "Proper immortals, those two. Not like ordinary folk at all."

The stray cat rubbed against his legs, earning another scrap before he resumed hawking: "Celebrating His Majesty's investiture of the Crown Prince! Buy five pounds of meat, get soup bones free!"

With weather warming, selling meat early was wise.

Thanks to the Crown Prince's ceremony, merchants had fresh excuses to move their goods.

The Eldest Master paused outside a fabric shop where red banners proclaimed: "Honoring the Crown Prince's Investiture—All New Fabrics 20% Off!"

Even at vegetable stalls, haggling housewives demanded extra ginger "for the Crown Prince's celebration."

"The capital... is like this now?"

The Eldest Master remembered when commoners would tremble at the mere mention of royalty during her last visit.

"Reverend Mothers, are you seeking alms?" A matron—fresh from bartering extra ginger—produced two steaming wheat buns from her bag, pressing one into each priestess' hands. "Fresh bought! Please partake."

Exchanging glances, the masters accepted despite not having begged. Their stomachs had indeed begun growling.

"Many blessings upon you, virtuous donor."

A few coins saved—excellent.

Pleased by their thanks, the woman bustled off.

"Elder Sister, the capital's buns are quite good," the Second Master mumbled between bites. "All this talk of a Crown Prince—which prince got the title?"

"Eat slower," the Eldest Master chided. "We're enlightened beings—maintain an air of transcendent grace when dining in public."

"Eldest Sister makes a valid point," Second Master nodded, only to notice that the steamed bun in Eldest Sister's hand was already half-eaten.

"Where did these filthy Daoist priests come from, standing by the roadside gnawing on buns?" A carriage pulled up beside the two women, and a middle-aged man inside lifted the curtain to glance at them. Though the two female priests no longer looked young, their charm remained.

With a lewd grin, he tossed a handful of copper coins onto the ground. "Take it, a reward from me. If you’re willing to come back to my estate with me, there’ll be more."

"Many thanks." Eldest Master bent down to pick up the coins. When she reached the last one, her index finger flicked it lightly, sending the coin flying. It embedded itself deep into the carved wood beside the carriage window, with most of it buried inside.

The middle-aged man’s smile froze instantly. Staring at the coin lodged in the wood, his eyes widened like copper bells.

"Phew." Eldest Master blew on the coin, dusting it off, then recited a Daoist blessing to the man: "Infinite blessings, many thanks, kind benefactor."

She extended two fingers and effortlessly plucked the coin from the carriage. "Benefactor, do you require our Daoist guidance to enlighten you?"

The man let out a yelp, tore down the carriage curtain, and fled in a cloud of dust.

Watching the carriage disappear into the distance, Eldest Master sighed regretfully. "I wanted to enlighten him—why did he run?"

"It means he has no connection with us." Second Master plucked a few coins from Eldest Master’s hand and tucked them into her own purse. "May the Heavenly Lord bless him."

The servants of the Du estate saw the steward return in his carriage and were about to report that the master needed him for urgent business. But before they could finish, the steward leaped from the carriage and dashed past them like a gust of wind, as if chased by a pack of dogs.

"What do we do now?" one servant asked helplessly. "Before leaving for the palace, the master said that as long as we relayed the message to the steward, he’d know what to do. But now… the steward won’t even listen to us."

"Maybe we should wait half an hour before trying again? If the master asks why we’re late, we’ll say the steward had just returned from an outing?"

As mere servants, they dared not offend either their master or the steward, so they could only tread carefully with a compromise.

After the grand ceremony for the crown prince’s investiture, a lively palace banquet commenced.

Fireworks bloomed in the sky, and tables were laden with delicacies—all to proclaim the emperor’s favor toward the new crown prince.

"The palace chefs have outdone themselves this time," Prince An remarked, patting his full belly. Noticing that his younger brother, Prince Jing, kept frowning and glancing outside, he asked, "Third Brother, is the fireworks display not to your liking, or is the feast not to your taste? Why the long face?"

"It’s nothing," Prince Jing replied, snapping out of his thoughts. He forced a smile. "I was just thinking how beautiful yet fleeting fireworks are. A pity, really."

"We’ve been watching fireworks for over twenty years, and only now you feel sentimental? Isn’t that a bit late?" Prince An found it baffling. If fireworks were beautiful but short-lived, they could always set off more—it wasn’t a big deal.

Oh, wait. Their stipends had only just been restored, and their purses were still light. Fireworks cost money.

Ah, the woes of poverty.

He patted Prince Jing on the back. "Don’t overthink it. Just eat."

The palace banquet was free, complete with music, dance, and fireworks. No sense wasting such an opportunity.

"Concubine Wei, are you admiring the moon or the fireworks?" Consort Lü, Prince An’s birth mother, noticed that Concubine Wei, Prince Jing’s mother, seemed distracted, her attention fixed outside the hall. Curious, she also glanced out several times.

Then, setting down her chopsticks, she exclaimed, "Your Majesty, Your Highness! The moon hangs bright in the sky, the stars shimmer brilliantly, and auspicious energy fills the air. Even the heavens know today is a joyous occasion for the imperial family, blessing us with this celestial spectacle!"

Step aside, everyone—this consort is about to flatter the empress and curry favor with the crown prince!

Prince An gazed at his mother with admiration. Truly, her skills in ingratiating herself surpassed his own.

Hearing Consort Lü’s words, the crowd turned their gazes outside.

Indeed…

The moon did seem more radiant than usual, and the stars shone brighter.

"Father, this is an auspicious sign!" Prince An swiftly followed his mother’s lead. "It seems Fifth Brother’s ascension as crown prince is the will of Heaven!"

The ministers fell silent.

They had heard of "the will of the people," but "the will of Heaven"?

Jiuzhu blinked in confusion as she looked outside. It was the sixteenth day of the month—what did a full moon have to do with an auspicious omen?

People in the capital really knew how to stretch logic.