Chapter Twenty-Six: The Congratulatory Gift

The seventh day of the seventh lunar month was Jinghu’s birthday. In past years, she would invite the young ladies she was close with to the Prince of Yongning’s estate as guests. Since it coincided with the Qixi Festival, they would always engage in festive activities in the garden.

Worshipping the moon, threading needles, catching auspicious spiders—the festival always filled Jinghu with joy.

Yet today was the day of Qixi itself, and even though she had dropped a hint to Ke Mingxu about her birthday, he still hadn't made a move.

It wasn't that she was hoping to go out on an excursion with him as they had during the Dragon Boat Festival; she simply thought he would keep the date in mind and send her a gift.

She lacked neither gold nor silver, nor jewelry or cosmetics; what she lacked was a gift carefully chosen and bestowed upon her by him.

Jinghu sat listlessly in Fangshi Pavilion for the entire morning, her heart entirely preoccupied with Ke Mingxu. It was not until noon that Doulu, who had been out at the outer courtyard, finally returned.

"Little County Princess, this was just delivered by Mistress Zhang from the gatehouse. She said it is a birthday gift for you from the Grand Tutor Ke estate."

Though the young County Princess was well-connected, she had no ties to the Grand Tutor’s household, save for Ke Mingxu.

Her spirits lifted instantly, and she hurried to unwrap the box.

The box was long and narrow, suggesting it contained either a painting or calligraphy. When she finally opened it, it was indeed a painting.

The scroll rod was made of white jade, carved into the shape of a gardenia. As she unfurled the scroll, a delicate, elegant floral scent greeted her.

Ke Mingxu had painted the garden outside Changan Hall from that night. On one side stood a gardenia tree that could rival Jinghu’s own stature, with a cobblestone path running through the middle, and a patch of low-growing jasmine on the other side.

The moonlight was bright, the drifting clouds sparse, and the path stretched endlessly forward, leaving the meaning within the painting open to interpretation.

Inscribed on the scroll were his words—not a poem, but simply the four characters: "Respectful Wishes for Your Birthday." He had written them in small, regular script, neat and forceful. Jinghu traced his brushstrokes with her finger several times.

The writing was like the man—he was such an upright gentleman.

Inside the scroll was a piece of light-cloud-colored Xie Gong stationery, a type of paper that had been quite popular in Yanjing a few years ago.

She had once ordered her servants to buy a large quantity of it, but being too lazy to write, she had never sent a single letter. Eventually, she had let her maids use the entire stack for paper-cutting games.

Only Liuhuang had felt it was a waste of such fine material, so she had been rewarded with a separate stack to keep.

The words Ke Mingxu had written on this piece of Xie Gong stationery were completely indecipherable to her; perhaps they were in some foreign language? Was he teasing her for being unread?

But even if one were to drag some old pedant out of the Imperial Academy, they probably wouldn't be able to decipher it either, right?

Then why had he written this for her?

Jinghu quickly recalled the banquet at the palace, where she had said she enjoyed the back-and-forth of social interaction. She had given him a hint, telling him that Qixi was her birthday.

Was this Xie Gong paper, then, the next step he had prepared for her?

Her heart began to flutter. After nearly a month of waiting, she had arrived at a result that filled her with delight.

Seeing her press the stationery to her heart with a sweet look on her face, Doulu felt a surge of confusion. Previously, the young County Princess had only ever been this happy when she won silver playing bone tiles or bought a new set of tiles from the gambling parlor.

"Little County Princess," she asked, sounding bewildered, "who sent this? Isn't the Grand Tutor Ke estate the maiden home of the eldest mistress? Why would they be sending things to you?"

Jinghu, in high spirits, turned and hooked Doulu’s chin with her finger. "Your little County Princess is loved by all. Since it is my birthday, isn't it perfectly normal for someone to send me a gift?"

Doulu, long accustomed to such teasing, kept her chin resting on her finger without moving. "Oh, I was just asking."

"Should I have this painting hung up, or would you like me to store it away?"

Seeing her indifferent attitude, Jinghu decided to tease her more. "No 'just asking.' You must ask carefully. Hurry and ask again who sent this painting."

Doulu followed her lead obediently. "Little County Princess, who sent this painting?"

Jinghu was satisfied. "It was sent by the youngest top scholar in the hundred years since the founding of Yan Liang."

This time, Doulu was genuinely surprised. "Is it Young Master Ke? When did you become close with him?"

*Young Master Ke?* That was right. His grandfather was Master Ke, so he was naturally Young Master Ke. It was the first time she had heard him addressed that way; like "Little County Princess," it was of the "Young/Little" generation.

It was much more amusing than "Brother Ke." Not bad, not bad at all. She would call him that next time.

Jinghu continued to tease the simple-minded Doulu, putting on an exaggerated expression. "Doulu, really? You don't even know this? And you claim to be the maid closest to me."

"Go and ask Liuhuang and the others—just ask Liuhuang. She definitely knows. You’ve been far too inattentive at work lately. Little Master Ke and I have been exchanging pleasantries for three months now."

As for the other maids, they wouldn't know much. Only Liuhuang, who had served by her side that night outside Changan Hall, was clever enough to have guessed a few things.

In the past, it was true that Doulu understood her best because she told her everything, using her as a willing accomplice. But she had been so flustered in her heart about this matter that she hadn't mentioned it to her.

She also understood Doulu best; she knew that as soon as the girl went off duty, she would go looking for Liuhuang—even if she ran into Ganqing or Baolan first, she would still seek out Liuhuang.

A person who didn't know how to beat around the bush—that was exactly the kind of person Doulu was.

Doulu’s face changed dramatically, and she couldn't help but pout, looking very distressed. She wanted to say something, but couldn't get the words out.

Jinghu couldn't bear to make the young girl cry; she still knew how to be gentle.

She quickly patted her head. "Good Doulu, I was just teasing you. I’ve only known Young Master Ke for these past few months."

"You weren't around when I was with him, and I didn't tell anyone when I got back, so of course you wouldn't know. I don't blame you, I don't blame you. Don't cry."

Doulu still looked a bit hurt. Being teased like this, she couldn't say anything back only because she was the mistress.

"But you just said that Baolan, Ganqing, and Sister Liuhuang all knew, and only I didn't."

Jinghu had no choice but to say, "I was lying to you about that too. Baolan and Ganqing don't know either. Only Sister Liuhuang knows because she was serving me that night. I truly don't blame you."

"Alright, don't be sad. Go and hang this painting for me. Hang it in the center of the reception room; I want to look at it every day."

Doulu wiped away her sorrow and busied herself with finding someone to hang the painting.

Jinghu was left alone at the table, holding the Xie Gong stationery, her heart filled with a feeling she couldn't quite name.