The next day, Xie Qian informed Yang Su that Princess Taikang Zhu Xiurong would accompany the Capital Grand Competition. As a straightforward military officer, Yang Su was naturally displeased.

"Chancellor," Yang Su said with a grimace, "you’re asking a big, rough man like me to escort that little sorceress Princess. How can I have any peace? ... Maybe you could ask His Majesty to send someone else instead?"

"Nonsense!" Xie Qian retorted. "The chief examiner for the Capital Grand Competition can’t be changed on a whim. His Majesty handles countless matters daily. Once something’s set in stone, it stays that way."

"But Chancellor, you know my temperament—I can’t stand the Princess’s personality," Yang Su muttered. He was terrible at flattery or sweet words. Even his wife often visited the Chancellor’s Office to complain about his foul temper and stubbornness.

"I know, I know," Xie Qian said, patting Yang Su’s shoulder. "You don’t need to flatter Princess Taikang. Just complete your mission well. If she causes trouble along the way, don’t scold her. If you can handle it, handle it. If not, pause the march and send word to the Imperial Capital. His Majesty only half-heartedly approved her trip. If real trouble arises, let him deal with it." He smiled, his wrinkled face softening. "I believe in you."

*You believe in me? I don’t even believe in myself,* Yang Su thought bitterly.

"Truthfully, you weren’t needed originally," Xie Qian explained. "But the Northern Frontier’s been restless lately. His Majesty sent all available officials there. You just returned from a mission, and this assessment requires a high-ranking official of third rank or above. After careful thought, I chose you."

"I should visit the Celestial Observatory to check if my destiny star clashes with the Princess’s..." Yang Su sighed in utter frustration.

"Hahaha, you really are amusing."

"Fine, Chancellor. I’ll return to the Five Armies Camp to hand over duties." Yang Su cupped his hands in farewell.

"Go prepare quickly," the Chancellor nodded.

Two men conversed in the Chancellor’s Office; two others spoke in the Imperial Palace.

"Your Majesty, I refuse."

"Why?"

"You’re asking a Deputy Commander to serve as a personal bodyguard. I refuse."

"I said you’d guard the Princess—it’s not beneath you."

"Precisely because it’s for *her* that I feel it’s beneath me."

"You—what kind of words are these..." Emperor Zhu Youcheng knew he was feigning ignorance but couldn’t resist probing. Playing dumb might force a rash, treasonous slip—giving him leverage. *You must go. I insist.*

"Your Majesty knows what I want to say. I won’t be foolish enough to voice it and hand you more leverage for bizarre tasks. Don’t trick me. Last time, I fell into your trap and served as the Princess’s spring outing companion for three days. Do you know what she made me do?" He hesitated, the memory bitter. "Princess Taikang ordered me to use the Divine Artillery to shoot wild pheasants for her dinner..." The words stung with humiliation.

No wonder this Deputy Commander felt wronged. The Divine Artillery was the Celestial Mechanism Camp’s ace weapon—obtained when artillery holders formed covenants with Divine Spirits. Only twenty-three high-grade Divine Artilleries existed in the entire camp. Soldiers carried lower grades; officers of Vice General rank and above wielded high-grade ones. This Deputy Commander himself carried one.

"Well... everyone knows Taikang loves chicken. Isn’t that why the Western Regions sent so many exotic chickens as tribute? I can’t taste the difference, but she can. I admire that..."

"Your Majesty, don’t you find those words rather weak?"

"Then let me compromise: I’ll join the convoy to Spirit Martial Town but follow secretly, avoiding the Princess. If danger arises, I’ll step in. You know my strength—no need to worry." It was a major concession.

Emperor Zhu Youcheng pretended to ponder briefly before nodding. He wasn’t truly considering—it was just a show so Vice Commander Sun wouldn’t feel he was yielding imperial face.

"Also, Your Majesty—no offense—but you should discipline that little sorceress. At this rate, she’ll never marry." Ministers often spoke freely before this Emperor.

"Say another word, and I’ll betroth Taikang to you."

"Your humble servant has erred!" Vice Commander Sun blurted. "I take my leave!"

Watching him scramble out, Zhu Youcheng nearly laughed. But Taikang’s willfulness *did* need changing. Impulsive as she was, marriage seemed impossible. Royal unions were traditionally political alliances. Though he discouraged it, most remained so—deeply ingrained customs couldn’t shift overnight. The stakes were immense. *Which family will she marry into?* Every ministerial household adored little Taikang’s spirit but shrank from claiming her as a bride.

Suddenly, a name surfaced in the Emperor’s mind.

"Yi Xiuran..." Zhu Youcheng tapped his fingers on the table. "Yi Xiuran..." he repeated. "Yes. Yi Xiuran it is." A decision solidified. *It’s not my fault—I can’t change Taikang’s nature. Since she’s traveling to Spirit Martial Town just to see you, betrothing her won’t wrong you. You’ll become Imperial Son-in-Law, showered in wealth and honor.* He recalled Yi Aimin’s kind face from childhood lessons—a good match for kin.

But that was for later. Overthinking now was useless. Perhaps someone would fancy Taikang someday. Decisions could wait.