Manman, would you do me the honor of marrying me?

The next day, before dawn had even broken, Lu Manman called for her maid to help her dress and prepare. Today, she wished to appear before him as a woman, to present her most beautiful self, to leave an unforgettable impression. Even after many years, despite the changing tides of time, she wanted him to remember how she looked this day.

Lowering her gaze, she glanced at the four large boxes of gold, silver, and jade ornaments neatly arranged on the dressing table. A trace of worry crept into her delicate brows. Her slender fingers carefully sifted through the jewelry box, but a faint disappointment soon clouded her face.

Within the case lay golden hairpins, jade rings, pearl accessories, jade hairpins, and decorative flowers — seemingly every treasure one could imagine. Yet, to her eyes, something was still missing.

Suddenly, as if struck by an idea, she turned her head to look at the vibrant bellflowers blooming outside the window. A gentle smile graced her lips. She lifted the hem of her floor-length gown and hurried to the window, gazing upon the dew-laden blossoms after last night’s rain. Turning back, she said to her maid behind her, “Zhu’er, go pick me a fresh red bellflower. I need it.”

“Yes, Princess,” Zhu’er replied promptly, nodding repeatedly before briskly making her way outside.

At last, as noon approached, Lu Manman was fully adorned. Sitting before the dressing table, she gazed into the bronze mirror. Her exquisite face flushed with a delicate blush, like a peach blossom just beginning to bloom—radiantly beautiful, utterly captivating.

Her eyebrows arched like emerald feathers, perfectly balanced—not too bold, not too faint. Her eyes, shaped like apricots filled with shimmering waves of emerald light, fluttered their long lashes with subtle grace. Her lips were naturally tinted with a moist, rosy hue, teeth pearly and pristine like shells, and her skin smooth and lustrous as white jade. When she lifted her chin, a gentle charm flowed from her countenance, the blush on her cheeks deepening.

Behind her, Zhu’er, the maid attending her, caught sight of this in the mirror. Her gaze softened, almost enchanted. Standing stiffly behind Lu Manman, her hands paused mid-motion as she whispered, “Princess, you are truly beautiful.”

At her words, Lu Manman smiled softly, setting down the jade hairpin she had been fingering. Turning, she grasped Zhu’er’s hand gently. “Enough, Sister Zhu’er, don’t tease me anymore.”

“No, no. I did not mean to tease, Princess,” Zhu’er hurriedly waved her hands, her cheeks flushing red with earnestness. “I truly think you’re beautiful—like a fairy descended from the heavens. I am so entranced, I can barely collect my thoughts.”

“Silly girl,” Lu Manman chided softly, a hint of shyness coloring her tone. Her watery apricot eyes sparkled as she looked around, never once giving off a hint of weariness; instead, she stirred a deep tenderness in those who beheld her.

That day, Lu Manman appeared at the palace banquet in full regalia. Her hair was arranged with exquisite skill, flowing like azure clouds drifting from a mountain ridge. A few tendrils escaped to frame her face, fluttering gently in the breeze as if to brush against her fragrant, snowy cheeks. On the left side of her forehead, a vivid red bellflower was pinned, its petals trembling lightly, as if about to bloom. Between her brows, a blood-red rouge was painted into the shape of a burning flame. This delicate makeup perfectly matched her vivid scarlet floor-length gown, forming a flawless harmony.

At the banquet, palace music played softly. Lu Manman wore a gentle smile as she slowly emerged from the Hundred Flowers Garden in a quiet corner of the palace. Her long, dark hair trailed behind her along with the flowing red gown.

She spotted him across the way—a man dressed in white silk robes, holding a wine cup delicately in his jade-like hand, sipping slowly. A shy blush crept onto her cheeks. Clenching her fists hidden beneath her sleeves, she ignored the puzzled gazes around her. Lifting the hem of her gown, she hurried toward the seated man in white.

Her steps quickened, breath growing shallow. Her cheeks deepened to a rosy hue as she drew nearer to her beloved. Suddenly, her foot caught on the trailing gown. Her body lost balance and began to fall backward uncontrollably.

Fengqiao Yesnow had not touched wine tonight. His poised sipping was merely a facade, masking the unrest stirring within him. Seeing her hasten toward him, a flicker of surprise crossed his face as he saw her smile shyly in his direction. When she stumbled and nearly fell, his heart leapt to his throat.

“Careful,” he warned.

Just as she feared losing face before him, strong arms caught her tightly. She spun gently with his steps, and when they stopped, she found herself resting in his embrace.

Her long lashes trembled as she slowly opened her eyes, gazing blankly at the man she longed for day and night. So close now, she suddenly felt a burning heat welling in her eyes, as though something was about to spill forth.

His features were like a masterful painting—handsome and refined. A smile curved his lips as he helped her steady herself, reaching up to touch the blood-red bellflower at her temple. “The bellflower suits you well,” he said.

“Does it?” she murmured, her cheeks flushed like one intoxicated. A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth as she parted her lips to ask, “You’ve recognized me, haven’t you?”

After asking, she lowered her eyelids, her long lashes fluttering in the breeze. Yet, as she anxiously awaited his answer, he only smiled without a word.

“You haven’t recognized me.” She lifted her head defiantly, meeting his eyes with tears brimming. Her clenched fists hidden in her sleeves turned pale from the force.

“You have a blood-red mole on the palm of your left hand. It’s as breathtaking as you are—beautiful enough to steal one’s breath away. From afar, you look like a lone red plum blossoming proudly atop a winter peak, defying the snow.”

He spoke softly as he reached for her hidden hand, gently taking it in his own. Looking into her eyes, he smiled, “The exquisite dice hide the red beans—do you understand the deep yearning they symbolize? Brother Murong once gave those dice to me. Now, are you saying you want to take them back?”

“No, no, I don’t,” she stammered nervously.

Hearing him call the name she used when disguised as a man, tears suddenly streamed down her face.

“Enough, don’t cry anymore.” His hand caressed her tear-streaked cheek with a touch of helplessness. “Manman, in red or in a man’s guise, you are a remarkable person in my eyes.”

“But I’m not truly a man,” she whispered, lifting tear-filled eyes to look at him sorrowfully. “I want to appear before you as a woman.”

“Silly girl.” His smile deepened as he reached out to caress her face. “Manman, will you marry me?”

“Manman, will you marry me?”

Those words echoed in her ears. She had imagined many possibilities: that upon learning her true identity as a woman, he would sever ties forever; or that he might only regard her as a brother, never stirring feelings for her.

She had never thought that today, before so many, he would ask her this.

Overcome with emotion, she bit her trembling lips and nodded firmly at him.

Thus, the palace banquet ended abruptly with an unexpected proposal. Though the Emperor of Zhou was not entirely pleased with Fengqiao Yesnow’s family background, seeing his daughter’s happiness, he reluctantly consented. The seventh princess, Lu Manman, was therefore betrothed to the merchant, with their wedding set for the auspicious fifth day of the coming month.