But as a true three-year-old, innocent and naïve, her childlike earnestness only made her seem adorably precocious.
Yan Xizheng choked, observing the little princess’s actions as he slowly sat back down.
Qingyang walked over to the kindly-looking Dai Lun.
“You go on with your work too.”
Dai Lun and Yan Xizheng exchanged a glance.
Dai Lun smiled, sat down, and dipped his brush in ink.
“Left Prime Minister, shall we handle this memorial as we just discussed?”
Yan Xizheng: “Agreed.”
Dai Lun focused on writing.
Qingyang stood by the table, watching the Right Prime Minister’s brush.
When he finished, she asked, “Why is your brush black? Father Emperor’s is red.”
Dai Lun replied respectfully, “Because this minister only helps His Majesty review memorials, to ease his burdens. The final decisions are always made by His Majesty. The Red Ink Brush symbolizes the Emperor’s sole authority, and on the white paper, it stands out clearly so officials won’t confuse the orders.”
Qingyang understood. Noticing that Yan Xizheng was still watching her warily, as if afraid she’d cause trouble, she glared back and left.
As the curtain fell, Yan Xizheng couldn’t help but mutter, “Nonsense.”
He hadn’t argued with the princess, but was annoyed that her attendants hadn’t tried to dissuade her.
Dai Lun didn’t mind.
“What child isn’t playful? My granddaughter often makes a mess in my study.”
Yan Xizheng: “That’s your study. Can you compare it to this place?”
Dai Lun thought, his granddaughter was no match for the princess anyway.
Leaving the Central Secretariat, to the south was Chengtian Gate. Between Chengtian Gate and the main southern gate of the imperial city, Vermilion Bird Gate, lay a long palace road lined with Dali Temple, Censorate, Hanlin Academy, and the Six Ministries.
The little princess swaggered through each office, and even after visiting them all, she still wasn’t satisfied, heading for even more distant offices.
Jie Yu could advise her at any time, but the little princess wouldn’t listen, and Jie Yu was powerless.
After a while, Qingyang stopped before the courtyard of an office, looking up at the plaque and sounding out the characters, “Imperial… Guards… Office.”
She recognized some characters from her tutor, others from pestering Third Brother Zhang Su and Zhang Su during their studies.
Jie Yu explained, “The Imperial Guards Office oversees all the guards in the palace. Its commander, the Imperial Guards Commander, is appointed directly by the Emperor, without needing approval from the Ministry of Personnel, Ministry of War, or the Central Secretariat.”
Qingyang nodded and walked in.
There were only minor officials in the various offices of the Imperial Guards Office. Qingyang was starting to feel bored when suddenly a cheer came from the east, quickly followed by silence.
Qingyang asked a guard in the courtyard, “Who’s over there?”
The guard replied, “Reporting to Your Highness, Commander Fan is training the guards.”
Qingyang’s eyes lit up.
“Take me there.”
The guard hesitated, but seeing Jie Yu’s subtle move to retrieve the imperial waist token from his right sleeve, he led the way at once.
To the east of the Imperial Guards Office was the training ground.
Afternoon drills had just ended, and Commander Fan Zhong had selected ten guards to spar with him—a way to test their skills.
Those who performed poorly were scolded, and anyone who failed to improve and dared slack off would be expelled from the Imperial Guards Office and replaced with more skilled recruits.
As the little princess approached, Fan Zhong was sparring with a guard. Both wore black training clothes, no armor, and fought bare-handed, wrestling.
Qingyang stared in awe, unable to believe how broad one man’s arms were—thicker than Jie Yu’s thighs!
His shoulders were twice as wide as Jie Yu’s, and even his eyes, when widened with effort, seemed larger than both of Jie Yu’s together.
Just then, as Fan Zhong threw the guard to the ground, his fierce eyes met the little princess’s wide, astonished gaze.
Fan Zhong: “Princess?”
Last month, when the Emperor returned victorious to the capital and introduced the little princess to the ministers, Fan Zhong had memorized her features.
Qingyang kept staring at his thick eyebrows and the short, bristly black beard that looked so hard.
Fan Zhong recalled how children on the street would run away or even cry at the sight of him, and he panicked a little, afraid the princess would be scared and that the Emperor would be distressed.
So Fan Zhong tried to force what he thought was a friendly smile, bent low, and approached slowly, using what he imagined was a gentle, gravelly voice to coax, “Your Highness, what brings you to the Imperial Guards Office?”
Standing behind the princess, Jie Yu watched Commander Fan and thought he looked like a tiger about to pounce on a child.
Jie Yu almost wanted to shield the princess, but then heard her ask innocently, “Why are your arms so thick?”
Jie Yu steadied himself.
Fan Zhong knelt on one knee before the princess, lowering his head to her level. Looking at his arms, he laughed heartily, “Because I was born big and have trained hard since I was young. That’s why my arms are so strong.”
Qingyang: “Can I touch them?”
Fan Zhong grinned, “Of course.”
He held out his right arm, and Qingyang grabbed it with both hands, but couldn’t make it budge.
Now close enough, Qingyang couldn’t resist tugging on his beard.
Fan Zhong: “Hey, hey, hey, Your Highness, gently…”
Qingyang let go, then looked up at Fan Zhong’s bushy eyebrows, frowning, “Your eyebrows are so messy. Why don’t you trim them?”
The surrounding guards burst out laughing.
Fan Zhong glared at them, then patiently explained to the princess, “Your Highness, you may not know, but these eyebrows are a blessing. When I followed His Majesty into battle, sometimes all I had to do was glare and raise my brows, and I’d scare the enemy soldiers. If I trimmed them to look nice, they’d lose some of their fear, and wouldn’t that make things easier for the enemy?”
Qingyang understood, and was now satisfied with Fan Zhong’s appearance.
She urged, “Go wrestle. I want to watch.”
Fan Zhong obeyed, rolling up his sleeves and working even harder to spar with the guards.
Since the princess hadn’t had enough, he kept calling up new opponents, wrestling until he was drenched in sweat and barely able to defeat the well-rested guards.
At last, he knelt before the princess, panting, and coaxed, “Your Highness, I’m exhausted. Shall we stop for today?”
Qingyang: “Okay.”
Seeing sweat streaming down Fan Zhong’s face, Qingyang told Jie Yu to give him a handkerchief.
Fan Zhong was deeply moved.
The princess didn’t treat him like a clown, but actually cared for him!
But he didn’t want to trouble Jie Yu, so he wiped his face with his sleeve.
“I’m just a rough man. This is good enough.”
Qingyang: “…Are you hungry? I’ll treat you to pastries.”
Every time Third Brother or Zhang Su finished practicing martial arts, Imperial Concubine would prepare pastries for them.
Fan Zhong was so happy he nearly cried.
Aside from his own two little ones, the princess was the first child outside his family willing to get close to him!
“No need, Your Highness, I’m not—”
Before he could finish, Fan Zhong’s stomach rumbled loudly, and several guards’ stomachs chimed in as well.
The little princess burst out laughing and insisted on treating them to pastries.
Fan Zhong sent the guards away and followed the princess to see the Emperor alone.
On the way in, Qingyang had been energetic, not feeling tired no matter how far she walked.
But on the way back, before even leaving the Imperial Guards Office, she began to feel tired, glancing at Jie Yu and then at Fan Zhong.
She told the latter, “Go bathe and change, then carry me.”
Fan Zhong: “Yes! Please wait, Your Highness!”
Familiar with the Imperial Guards Office, Fan Zhong rushed to the bathhouse, rinsed off with cold water twice, and had his purple second-rank military robe delivered by his attendant.
The sturdy commander adjusted his black belt and official cap, instantly looking more imposing and dignified than when he was training.
Passing through Chengtian and Qianyuan Gates, Fan Zhong was about to put the princess down and formally request an audience outside the Imperial Library, but when he turned, he saw the princess had fallen asleep on his shoulder.
Fan Zhong looked helplessly at Jie Yu.
At that moment, Emperor Xingwu, informed by He Yuanjing, came out and saw the scene.
He teased Fan Zhong, “Well, when did you learn to coax children?”
Fan Zhong grinned proudly, “To tell the truth, Your Majesty, I don’t know how it happened. Somehow, I just hit it off with the little princess. She insisted on treating me to pastries.”
Emperor Xingwu mused, “The last one Lin’er favored was Zhang Jie. Could it be, in Lin’er’s eyes, you and Zhang Jie are equally handsome?”
Fan Zhong couldn’t hold it in and burst out with a few lion-like laughs, which startled the princess awake.
Fan Zhong quickly fell silent.
Qingyang rubbed her eyes, saw Father Emperor, and reached out to him.
Emperor Xingwu’s heart melted.
He gently took his beloved daughter and soothed her, “Father Emperor will hold Lin’er and let you nap inside.”
Qingyang was about to nod, but then saw Fan Zhong behind and said sleepily, “Father Emperor, treat him to pastries.”
So, as the sun set in the west, Fan Zhong left the palace with a bag of imperial pastries in hand, beaming as he carried them home to his two little ones.
While the little princess slept, Jie Yu respectfully presented the imperial waist token for the Emperor to take back.
Emperor Xingwu thought for a moment and had He Yuanjing take it instead.
After all, the Outer Court was the Outer Court.
He could indulge his daughter once, but if she went too often, the officials would surely talk.
That wouldn’t be good for him or his daughter.
What comforted Emperor Xingwu was that his little princess didn’t pester him to visit the Outer Court again—perhaps after touring it once, she realized it wasn’t so fun after all.