Like you? Maybe I'll wait eight lifetimes before I even consider it.

On the way back to the capital that night, Hui Yue’er and Zhao Chengxian had finished their business, and darkness had already fallen. Yet the two of them rode their horses back to the city without hurry or worry. Having often traveled by night, neither was afraid. Hui Yue’er glanced at Zhao Chengxian in the moonlight, her mind lingering on the events of the day. Perhaps her opinion of him had shifted; she couldn’t help but think that Zhao Chengxian did look rather dashing on horseback.

Zhao Chengxian turned to look at her as well, then grinned and teased, “Little Crescent, don’t tell me you’re starting to fall for me?” His roguish air was unmistakable—as if, in modern times, he would have said, “Don’t be infatuated with me; I’m just a legend.”

Hui Yue’er, who had only just begun to see him in a new light, found her impression of him dashed by this swaggering behavior. She shot him a look of utter disdain and retorted, “Me? Like you? Maybe in eight lifetimes!” Though perhaps she wouldn’t have to wait eight lifetimes; fate has a way of surprising people in the here and now, after all.

Zhao Chengxian just smirked and replied, “Actually, you’re not without hope. With your looks and figure, if only you were a bit more gentle, I could consider taking you as a concubine.” The prospect of becoming Princess Consort didn’t stir Hui Yue’er in the slightest, much less the position of a mere concubine. What she sought was a man who cherished and loved her—and whom she, in turn, could love—not just a title or a place.

Hui Yue’er sneered and shook her head, refusing to dignify Zhao Chengxian’s narcissism with a response. She’d met self-absorbed men before, but none quite so shameless. Whatever goodwill she’d gained for him over the day was now spent. Yet Zhao Chengxian continued, “Marry me, give me a son, and you can be Princess Consort. That’s the dream of countless girls, you know…” In truth, he knew Hui Yue’er had little affection for him, and he himself wasn’t yet set on marrying her. He merely wanted to see her riled.

Annoyed beyond patience, Hui Yue’er shouted, “Your Highness!” Zhao Chengxian feigned innocence, prompting her to lower her voice and suggest, “Your Highness, let’s have a horse race. First one to the palace wins!” If she listened to him any longer, she’d either die of exasperation or the two of them would come to blows—neither outcome was desirable.

Zhao Chengxian chuckled, “All right, but since it’s a race, there should be a wager. Whoever reaches the palace first can make a request of the other—within reason, of course!” He knew she had been worrying about her mother these past days. Allowing her to visit home outright would bruise his pride, but if she won a fair race and made it her request, it would give both of them a way to save face. Both Zhao Chengxian and Hui Yue’er were stubbornly proud.

Hui Yue’er, thinking that winning would let her ask to visit her family and the security bureau, readily agreed. “Deal! No backing out!” She suspected Zhao Chengxian might be plotting something, but she had every confidence in her riding skills and was certain victory would be hers. She flicked her whip, and her chestnut horse surged ahead like the wind.

Zhao Chengxian raised his own whip and shouted, urging his white horse into a wild gallop. Though he hoped Hui Yue’er would win, deep down he couldn’t bear the thought of losing himself. The two raced neck and neck, and as they drew near the palace, Zhao Chengxian—who had been in the lead—suddenly slowed, allowing Hui Yue’er to finish ahead by half a length.

Dismounting together, Zhao Chengxian smiled graciously at Hui Yue’er. “You’ve won. You may make a request of me.” He wasn’t a bad person at heart—just fond of games and mischief, never of malice.

Hui Yue’er knew perfectly well that Zhao Chengxian had let her win, though she couldn’t understand his motive. Still, she told him, “Tomorrow I’d like to visit my family for a day.” Zhao Chengxian nodded and walked inside. Hui Yue’er watched his retreating figure, calling out with a smile, “Next time we race, you’d better give it your all!” Zhao Chengxian didn’t look back, but his eyes glimmered with amusement. The understanding passed silently between them: there was no need to take the contest too seriously. There would be another time.

Ladies and gentlemen, young and old, and those in between—bring forth your gold medals, your red envelopes, your gifts! Spare nothing! Let the storm rage wilder and stronger!