The princess regretted it.

Yipinzhai, located on Yuhua Street in eastern Beijing, is a three-story wooden building with an antique charm. Its high, upturned eaves resemble a bird spreading its wings, ready to take flight. Large red lanterns hung at the entrance sway gently in the breeze, adding a festive touch to the teahouse's atmosphere.

Upon entering the teahouse, the first thing that catches your eye is the spacious lobby. Thick pillars support the roof, each intricately carved with lifelike depictions of flowers, birds, fish, and insects, as well as mythical figures and legends. More than a dozen eight-person tables, each with four benches, are placed in the lobby. The tabletops bear slight signs of wear and tear, a mark of time that only adds to their quaintness.

At this moment, the lobby was filled with tea drinkers. There were scholars in long gowns and jackets, chatting quietly, sometimes nodding their heads, sometimes clapping their hands and laughing, as if discussing poetry and prose. There were also hurried businessmen who put down their bags, ordered a cup of hot tea, took a short break, and exchanged business information with their colleagues. There were also some ordinary people, some alone, quietly savoring the fragrance of tea, while others gathered in groups of three or five, chatting about family matters.

The waiters in the teahouse shuttled among the crowd, carrying trays with steaming hot tea and various snacks in their hands. They moved skillfully and walked briskly, greeting the guests warmly and refilling their tea and water expertly.

Walking up the stairs to the second floor, it was relatively quiet. There were several private rooms, each door hung with an exquisite curtain embroidered with landscapes, flowers, and birds. Through the gaps in the curtains, one could see guests sitting around tables, playing chess or sipping tea, enjoying this moment of tranquility.

In a corner of the second floor, a storyteller, dressed in a gray robe and holding a folding fan, was telling a story in vivid detail. A group of listeners sat around him, listening with rapt attention, sometimes nervous, sometimes laughing, as if they were already immersed in the world of the story.

Going up further, we arrived at the third-floor open-air terrace. Here, a few bamboo tables and chairs were arranged, alongside pots of flowers and plants. From here, we could overlook the entire town: the rolling hills in the distance, the bustling streets nearby. A gentle breeze, bringing with it the fragrance of flowers and tea, was a truly relaxing experience.

The whole teahouse is filled with the rich aroma of tea, accompanied by the laughter of tea drinkers and the voice of storytellers, like a vivid picture of ancient city life.

At this moment, two people were reclining on bamboo chairs on the third-floor platform. They were Mu Zixuan and Zhong Chuzhou. Zhong Chuzhou was wearing a bright red robe today. The robe was made of fine material and had faint dark patterns flowing on it. He was tall and straight like a pine tree, with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. His hair was tied into a half-bun today, fixed with a white jade hairpin, and a few strands of hair fell casually on both sides of his cheeks. His face was well-defined, with sword-like eyebrows slanting into his temples, and a pair of charming phoenix eyes that were now closed. Under his high nose bridge, his thin lips were slightly pursed, and he was gently holding a teacup in one hand. His slender fingers had distinct joints, as if carved from white jade. He tilted his head slightly, leaning back on the bamboo chair with a leisurely expression, listening to the music played by the beauties beside him, and exuding a lazy and leisurely comfort.

Mu Zixuan, on the other hand, wore a blue brocade robe, the color of clear lake water, embroidered with delicate cloud patterns. His hair was tied back with a soft jade hairpin, a few slightly curled strands hanging unruly on his forehead. He imitated his cousin, closing his bright, dog-like eyes. Beneath his straight nose, a smile played at the corners of his mouth, a pair of small dimples at either side of his mouth making the smile seem particularly sweet. He leaned back in a bamboo chair, one hand casually resting on the table, his fingers tapping leisurely to the music, his demeanor relaxed and at ease.

The breathless appearance of the Prime Minister's servant instantly shattered the leisurely atmosphere. His face flushed, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. He made a feint of greeting with his hands before leaning back on his knees, breathing heavily with his mouth open, as if he had just experienced a fierce chase. The two men on the bamboo chairs opened their eyes and glanced at him sideways, their gazes filled with confusion.

The servant swallowed, tried to calm his breathing, and then said while panting: "(Hu) Little (Hu) Little (Hu) Young (Hu) Master (Hu) Slave (Hu) Slave (Hu) I finally (Hu) found (Hu) you (Hu, Hu)."

Mu Zixuan immediately sat up straight, frowning, and asked in confusion, "What happened? Why are you so tired?"

The servant, now feeling a little better, quickly bowed and replied, "Young Master, Madam orders you to return home!"

Mu Zixuan's confusion grew. His mother rarely came to see him at this hour. Could something serious have happened at the mansion? He glanced at his cousin beside him, only to see Zhong Chuzhou, also looking surprised. His heart tightened, and he hurriedly asked, "What happened at the mansion?" He braced himself on the bamboo chair's armrests, about to stand, when a voice rang out, "Young Master, Princess Jin'an is coming to the mansion tomorrow. Madam... Ah! Young Master!"

As expected, an unexpected event occurred. Before the servant could finish his words, Mu Zixuan stumbled and fell backwards. Unfortunately, the chair was tilted, and he fell flat on his butt. It happened so fast that even Zhong Chuzhou, who was sitting across from him, couldn't reach out and help him. The servant hurried over to help Mu Zixuan. Mu Zixuan, completely ignoring the pain in his butt, grabbed the servant's wrist tightly and asked anxiously, "Who were you talking about? Who's coming to the house?"

"Princess Jin'an!" The servant was a little confused by the question and repeated, "Princess Jin'an will come to the Prime Minister's Mansion tomorrow."

Mu Zixuan stood there in disbelief, his face filled with disbelief. A single sentence kept repeating in his mind: "Princess Jin'an is coming to the Prime Minister's residence!" He was momentarily at a loss, not knowing how to respond. He just stood there in a daze.