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Chapter 175: The Embroidered Brocade Pouch

Shen Jie, the younger brother of the current emperor Shen Lang and born of the same mother, enjoyed imperial favor and had a princely residence that was exceptionally lavish and expansive. Without a maid or servant to guide them, new guests could easily get lost in its gardens.

However, Jiang Xuening was quite familiar with it—

After all, in her previous life, she had lived in this very estate for over two years. The paths and gardens here, reminiscent of the imperial palace, were so well ingrained in her memory that she could navigate them blindfolded.

After leaving Jiang Xuehui’s secluded courtyard, she had little desire to return to the gathering of female guests. Finding it tiresome to socialize, she strolled along the covered walkway by the lakeside garden, intending to find a quiet spot to hide and wait until the banquet was nearly over.

Unexpectedly, as she turned the corner of the walkway, she ran into Shen Jie.

The groom of the day was dressed in a bright red wedding robe, which made his refined and elegant features even more striking. Accompanied by a retinue of attendants, he exuded an air of grace and prominence, like a celestial being surrounded by stars.

Judging by his direction, he had just come from the main hall where Fang Miao was and was heading toward Jiang Xuehui’s quarters.

The encounter caught them both off guard.

Shen Jie paused briefly before reacting first. He cupped his hands and bowed slightly, greeting her, “Second Miss Jiang.”

Jiang Xuening, however, seemed momentarily dazed.

His attire was exactly as it had been in her previous life.

At that time, however, her first sight of him wasn’t under the open sky, but within the bridal chamber. She couldn’t tell whether it was the wine or his shyness, but when this prince used a wedding rod to lift her bridal veil, his refined face, illuminated by the red candles, seemed faintly flushed. Back then, she too felt a hint of dizziness—though any tenderness or affection was pure illusion. Because she had no true feelings for him, beyond that fleeting illusion arose a boundless emptiness deep within her heart.

She returned his courtesy with a bow and said, “Your Highness, the Prince of Linzi, your residence is truly vast. I intended to take a shortcut back to the banquet but lost my way after only a few steps.”

Shen Jie guessed as much.

After Jiang Xuening finished speaking, she gazed at him for a moment before suddenly asking the attendants nearby, “Do you have any wine?”

The attendants froze in surprise and instinctively looked toward Shen Jie.

Shen Jie, too, was unsure of Jiang Xuening’s intentions.

Jiang Xuening smiled and explained, “Although I am not close to Your Highness, I once received some kindness from you in the palace. Your Highness and Yan Lin were old friends. Now that he’s exiled in Huangzhou, he likely cannot attend to congratulate you in person. Whether out of personal feelings or propriety, I should toast to you on my own behalf, and on Yan Lin’s as well, to celebrate Your Highness’s joyous occasion.”

Shen Jie understood then.

However, the mention of Yan Lin brought a hint of sadness to him as well. He sent someone to fetch the wine and remarked, “It’s supposed to be a joyful day, but now Yan Lin is not here, and neither is Zhiyi…”

His interactions with Jiang Xuening had been shallow.

Outsiders often described the Second Miss Jiang as arrogant and unruly, but perhaps due to Yan Lin’s frequent mentions of her and the way his imperial sister Shen Zhiyi treated her with exceptional regard, Shen Jie held a different opinion.

Earlier, in the front hall, as he entertained the guests, everyone spoke of how he was marrying two brides, a principal and a secondary wife, on the same day, supposedly enjoying the pinnacle of bliss.

Outwardly, he expressed gratitude, but inwardly, he felt far from pleased.

By others’ standards, however, he had no reason not to be happy.

Now, Jiang Xuening’s words, though not exactly a cheerful topic, unexpectedly gave him a sense of relief, as if providing a perfectly valid reason for his unhappiness.

Nearby was a waterside pavilion.

The estate, in its celebratory splendor, had wine and refreshments prepared everywhere for the guests.

The servants quickly fetched wine, pouring a cup for each of them.

Jiang Xuening lifted her cup, her mind wandering to memories of Shen Jie from her past life—the times he celebrated her birthday, conferred upon her the title of Empress, and even entrusted her with the Imperial Seal on his deathbed. Though that seal later became the cause of her suicide and burial, Shen Jie, as an emperor, had treated her, someone who had no feelings for him, with nothing short of impeccable kindness.

But his temperament was too kind, and such kindness was weakness.

She raised her cup to him, her tone slow and deliberate, as she said, “Your Highness is a good man. This cup from Xuening is to wish you a life where your desires are fulfilled, and you find peace and tranquility.”

A life where your desires are fulfilled, and you find peace and tranquility.

The sentiment was utterly ordinary, so much so that on his wedding day, it carried a faintly strange and ill-timed undertone.

Shen Jie furrowed his brows slightly and glanced at her.

She responded with a calm smile. There was no scheming in her clear eyes, only sincerity, as if a gentle stream flowed through one’s heart, bringing a sense of soothing warmth. She extended her cup and lightly clinked it against his, then raised her head and drank it all in one go.

Shen Jie blinked, feeling a hint of confusion.

What had this young lady let go of? She seemed entirely unburdened.

He couldn’t fathom it, but her carefree demeanor made him smile faintly. “I’ll take your kind words,” he said, raising his cup and drinking it all.

In her past life, she had been indifferent to Shen Jie, but he had treated her with utmost kindness. In this life, she avoided any involvement with him, freeing herself while hoping her absence would bring him better fortune.

Jiang Xuening placed her cup down, saluted again, and took her leave.

Her departure was one of true liberation and ease.

Shen Jie stood there for a long while, feeling an inexplicable sense of loss. It wasn’t until his attendant reminded him that he lowered his gaze to the wine cup in his hand, returned it to the attendant, and continued on to Jiang Xuehui’s courtyard.

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On her way, Jiang Xuening had run into Shen Jie and mentioned she didn’t know her way around. Taking the chance to relax without worry, she found a quiet boat pavilion by a small lake and sat down. She started planning what needed to be done once she arrived in Shu, while waiting for the sun to set.

The front hall bustled with activity for a while.

Hearing cheers of “Long live the emperor” from afar, she knew the emperor and empress had made an appearance. Not long after, the sound of farewells signaled their departure.

As twilight approached, she guessed it was about time and got up to head to the front hall.

By then, some guests with official duties had already left.

From an attendant, Jiang Xuening learned that Jiang Boyou was in a pavilion at the eastern corner of the garden. She made her way there. Sure enough, she saw Jiang Boyou standing with his back to her, talking with a few people. One of them had their back turned toward her.

The sky had darkened, and the light was dim.

She couldn’t make out the details at first. As she got closer, the voice reached her ears, and the figure turned slightly to the side. In that instant, it felt like a moment of looking back at the end of the alley under the dim lights—a sudden wave of heat rushed through her chest, leaving behind a mark that could not be erased.

That day at the Shuxiang Inn, everything had been laid bare. Jiang Xuening didn’t think of herself as someone who clung to the past, but the thought of meeting again brought a trace of awkwardness. Recognizing him, she stopped at a distance that was neither too far nor too close.

Jiang Boyou, with his sharp eyes, noticed her.

After finishing his conversation with the others, he exchanged farewells and turned. Zhang Zhe, unaware she was behind him, turned around and immediately spotted her standing under the crabapple tree. His steps halted.

But he said nothing.

Nor did Jiang Xuening.

It wasn’t until Jiang Boyou came over with a smile and asked, “Why are you looking for me?” that she blinked and shifted her gaze. “I just remembered something about Shu that I thought I should discuss with you,” she said.

Jiang Boyou glanced around, as if cautious about something. He waved his hand and said, “Perfect timing. I also have some thoughts about your marriage to discuss. Let’s talk on the way back. I’ll just bid farewell to a few colleagues first. Wait for me here.”

Jiang Xuening didn’t know what he wanted to discuss but didn’t press the matter.

She simply nodded and watched him leave. When she turned back to look for Zhang Zhe, the spot where he had been standing was already empty.

In her past life, they had destiny but no fate.

In this life, they had fate but no destiny.

She let out a soft laugh, cursing the heavens for toying with her. She thought it might take her some time to truly move on. Standing there for a while, she began to feel tired and walked into the pavilion to rest.

As Jiang Xuening stepped onto the stairs, her gaze swept past a cluster of nandina bushes nearby. Suddenly, amidst the slightly reddened leaves of early summer, she caught sight of a black silk pouch with silver embroidery, hanging as if someone had accidentally snagged it on the overgrown branches while passing by.

She picked it up casually, not paying much attention.

Yet, the moment she held it, a sense of familiarity struck her.

Wasn’t this the same pouch Zhang Zhe often carried in her previous life?

There had been a time when she suspected it was a gift from some lady and snatched it to tease him. She thought he had grown so accustomed to her antics that he wouldn’t react. To her surprise, his face changed drastically. Though he remained stoic and silent, the furrow in his brow revealed a restrained yet intense anger.

Unable to bear his reaction, she had returned it to him.

Later, she learned that it was sewn by his devoted mother, stitch by stitch, as a token of her love for her son. Though it contained nothing of particular value, it meant the world to Zhang Zhe.

In her past life, if she had found such an item, she would have used it to mock and taunt him relentlessly. Now, however, it filled her heart with a bitter ache. All she could think was how distressed he would be upon realizing he had lost it. She intended to hand it over to the palace servants for safekeeping so he could retrieve it later.

But as she took a step, a faint clinking sound came from within the pouch.

“…”

Jiang Xuening froze, her fingers trembling. She lowered her gaze, staring at the pouch in her hand. A tangle of thoughts raced through her mind, fleeting and indistinct like mist, leaving no clear trace behind.

She stood there for a long, long time before slowly untying the pouch.

With a soft rustle, dozens of gold and silver ingots, shaped like auspicious fruits for the New Year, spilled out into her palm. Along with them fell a folded piece of thin paper, its back faintly revealing traces of ink.

Tears streamed down Jiang Xuening’s face.

She pressed her hand to her chest, as though drowning, struggling to catch her breath.

The nervous anticipation she’d felt that night when she hung the pouch on his door, the boldness when she stood before him and asked for his feelings—all these memories rushed through her, now transformed into a sense of absurdity, bitter grievance, and profound sorrow.

“Zhang Zhe, I have feelings for you.”

“Miss Jiang, please understand. My heart already belongs to someone else.”

…

If you truly cared for someone else, if you were utterly unmoved by me, then what was the point of keeping these things?

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