Darling Diary

Chapter 5: Against A Veteran

As Yu Qingchen fans himself obnoxiously in a moment of utter despair, Meng emerged from her quarters. Her grand entrance was heralded by a team of eunuchs carrying an ornate sedan chair, shining in every sense. But it wasn’t the ornate palanquin or even the whispering crowd that caught Yu Qingchen’s attention. No, it was the woman sitting on it, wearing an absurdly flashy red dress, with a veil dotted with glittering gold threads that made her look more like a walking, talking firework than a princess.

He could already hear his own soul groaning in agony.

"Your Lordship," a maid scurried up to him with a frantic look in her eyes. Her voice was an octave higher than normal, no doubt trying to soften the blow. "Her Highness insisted that red is auspicious, and it will bring good luck for today’s session!"

Yu Qingchen swallowed a sigh so deep it felt like his lungs would collapse under its weight.

“En,” he murmured, his voice flat, like a man who knew he was being forced into an inevitability. He waved his hand, dismissing the maid’s apology as if it were some troublesome fly. There were more important matters to deal with now. The clock was ticking, and they could not afford to be late.

Meng’s attire, meanwhile, glittered with all the subtlety of a dragon dancing in the middle of a peasant's wedding. Her veil, which had been her idea to shield her from the prying eyes of the court, only seemed to make her stick out more. She thought it was regal; in reality, it was as if she had dressed herself in a misguided attempt at blending in with a high-society fireworks show.

Yu Qingchen’s head was in his hands as he thought about what lay ahead. He’d heard whispers about the princess being well behaved and witty, but what is this?

She brushed his advice off and told him she knows acting!

Oh, no. She was about to stand in front of some of the most powerful men in the realm, and her idea of “preparing” was to memorize overly dramatic lines from poetry she found in some old, dusty books. Lines that made absolutely no sense in this day and age.

As they approached the imperial court, Yu Qingchen couldn't help but look at the bewildered faces of the palace guards. He could see their attempts to suppress grins when they caught sight of her sparkling attire.

“The Imperial Scholar has arrived! The Princess Meng has arrived!” announced a eunuch in an over-the-top voice, his attempts at grandeur barely containing his personal confusion.

Eyes narrowed with suspicion and keen intelligence turned toward the entrance. The men of the court, wise and seasoned, looked like predators scenting the air for weakness. And, of course, Meng immediately felt it. Her stomach twisted as she stood there, feeling like the oddest fish in a bowl full of venomous snakes. Her outfit made her feel like a sticking sore thumb!

Oh, how she regretted that veil. It was like trying to hide behind a mask made of sparkling damnation.

The Grand General Long Yuan stood out amongst them all, a man whose reputation was as legendary as his terrifying aura. The moment Meng laid eyes on him, she froze. He was rugged, with a face weathered by battle, and one eye marked by the infamous Odin scar. She could practically hear the war drums beating every time his gaze shifted toward her. This was it. The one she had to impress if she wanted to survive this session with anything resembling dignity.

Yu Qingchen helped Meng down from the sedan chair, and with every step they took, the tension in the air seemed to grow, thick enough to cut with a knife. He guided her to the seat just below the king’s position, keeping his eyes trained on her as she sat down, posture stiff as a board.

“At least she’s not slouching,” he thought, trying to latch onto any semblance of hope.

“Everyone must have waited eagerly,” Yu Qingchen said with forced cheer, glancing toward the Chancellor, who appeared more like an ancient tortoise trying to keep things from unraveling.

Before anyone could reply, a loud slap echoed through the room. A scroll was flung onto a desk with the kind of force that could only be matched by someone who had been waiting far too long for attention. Everyone turned toward the source of the disruption.

It was Long Yuan, who leaned forward, a smile on his lips that did nothing to ease the growing tension.

"Enough with the bullshit," Long Yuan growled, his voice low and gravelly, honed from decades on the battlefield. “My son has been detained, and we don’t know if it was his doing, or a vixen’s?”

Meng’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull. Vixen? Did this crusty war relic just call her a vixen? The nerve! As if she were some scandalous temptress in a cheap palace drama. What was next, accusing her of seducing his son with f*******n dance routines and spicy dumplings?

Her jaw dropped. For a moment, she was too stunned to even breathe. Was this slander? A plot twist? Or had she accidentally wandered into the wrong script entirely?

If Yu Qingchen hadn’t been standing there like a human anxiety attack, she would’ve tossed her veil at the general’s feet and launched into an indignant monologue worthy of a three-episode arc.

Her hand clenched at her side. If Yu Qingchen wasn't here keeping a leash on her, she would have fired back with more just words than Long Yuan can swallow. After all, she was a thug at heart.

"Princess," Yu Qingchen whispered sharply, his face gloomy. He could feel his life expectancy shortening by the second.

Meng gulped, nodding solemnly. She had to keep it together. After all, this was a diplomatic session, right? She had to act, just like on stage.

“Grand General,” she began, her voice echoing with an unexpected elegance. “The unfortunate event that has transpired is forgivable. Surely, my father cannot bear to hear of this news. And I sincerely apologize for my... part in it.”

Yu Qingchen’s ears perked up. Was she actually 'actually' speaking with some measure of eloquence?

But then, the floodgates of her overzealous poetic training opened.

"So, let us not be the oxen dragging the plow of vengeance, but instead, the butterflies sipping nectar from the petals of peace."

The court froze. Guards exchanged glances. Long Yuan blinked, his face twisting with confusion. Silence hung thick in the air.

“What does that even mean?” a guard muttered, loud enough for Yu Qingchen to hear. He immediately coughed into his sleeve, hoping no one had heard the blunder.

“Anger is like spicy tofu, it burns only if swallowed without thought.” Meng continued, trying to maintain her newfound confidence. “War is but a cranky goose honking in the night, loud, pointless, and needing roast. May the rice of harmony be steamed evenly in the pot of unity.”

Another awkward silence.

“…Is the princess hungry?” one of the guards whispered.

“What does that even mean?” another guard muttered.

A third soldier, far too solemn for his own good, nodded. “She’s got a point.”

Yu Qingchen’s face turned ashen. He was on the verge of having a panic attack. If this continued, he was going to be the one buried in the royal graveyard, not her.

The Grand General's face flushed redder than a boiled lobster. “This- this is outrageous! My son has been detained and all I hear is this nonsense?!”

Yu Qingchen panicked. He stood up, but before he could say anything, Meng quickly followed his lead.

“W-wait!” she exclaimed, flailing her hands a little too desperately. “The Young Master Long Yi and I have been childhood friends. Perhaps the news of my possible arranged marriage tore his heart, resulting in such means. Can’t this be negotiated on even grounds?”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, there was silence. Long Yuan’s gaze flickered toward her, and a small spark of interest flashed in his old, battle-worn eyes.