220: Chapter 220 is actually the latter...

Outside the carriage, the coachman's respectful voice suddenly pierced through the curtain, echoing inside the carriage.

The rolling sound of the wheels gradually ceased, and the tranquility inside the carriage was instantly and completely shattered.

The two of them were like people doused with cold water, instantly jolted awake from a dream, their bodies trembling violently.

Ouyang Wanqing, almost instinctively, broke free from Chen Shanzhi's embrace in a panic.

She hurriedly tidied her somewhat disheveled lapel and slightly loosened skirt.

The tenderness and attachment on her face faded away in an instant, replaced once again by the coldness and arrogance befitting the Young Miss of the Prime Ministers Mansion.

"We... we have arrived, you should get off the carriage."

However, her slightly heavy breathing and the blush she could not suppress still betrayed the turmoil in her heart.

"Wanqing, what did you just say we should do?"

Chen Shanzhi watched Ouyang Wanqing, who had already let go of him, his body leaning lazily against the carriage window, a playful smile lingering at the corners of his mouth.

In the illusion world, the two of them had shared some intimate gestures when getting off the carriage.

The light inside the carriage was dim, yet Ouyang Wanqing could clearly see the hint of mischief in Chen Shanzhi's eyes.

She gave him a resentful glare, her cold and dignified demeanor as a young lady of a noble house faltering for a moment.

She took a deep breath, suppressing the rising emotions in her chest caused by their excessive intimacy just moments before.

Then, she extended her slender hand and fumbled in a hidden compartment beside the soft couch.

A moment later, she pulled out a mask that was milky white all over and handed it over: "Put this on."

Chen Shanzhi was stunned. He reached out to take the mask and felt it; the edges were carved with subtle white orchid patterns, and the inside even carried a faint, lingering fragrance belonging to her.

"A mask?"

Chen Shanzhi was sharp-witted and instantly understood the woman's intention, unable to help but grin behind the mask:

"Wanqing is as thoughtful as ever. If I were to get off your carriage with the face of the Heir of the Marquis of Zhenguo,

it would certainly attract a lot of unnecessary trouble.

Truly worthy of being my wife."

"Pah!"

Ouyang Wanqing's cheeks flushed a charming red as she spat at him, her cold voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment and anger:

"Who is being thoughtful for you? I am just afraid that your face will be too conspicuous at the Poetry Gathering and tarnish the reputation of my elegant event.

Hurry up and put it on, then get off the carriage."

"Then..." Chen Shanzhi still refused to give up.

"Get lost!"

"Alright, as my wife commands, I dare not disobey."

Chen Shanzhi chuckled, pressed the mask onto his face, and vibrated his True Qi slightly at the edges of the mask to make it adhere to his face.

The two of them, one after the other, lifted the curtain and stepped down at the main entrance of the Prime Ministers Mansion.

The servants and guards in front of the Prime Ministers Mansion, seeing their own Young Miss leading in a mysterious man wearing a mask,

all kept their eyes lowered and focused, not daring to even breathe loudly.

Ouyang Wanqing moved with graceful, lotus-like steps, leading the way.

Chen Shanzhi followed unhurriedly, half a step behind her, his eyes scanning the surroundings behind the mask as if casually.

The corridors of the Prime Ministers Mansion twisted and turned, with rockeries lining the path and guards everywhere.

After passing through the last carved archway, the view before them suddenly opened up; it was the back garden of the Prime Ministers Mansion.

The moment Chen Shanzhi stepped into the back garden, he felt as if he had been struck by lightning, his footsteps coming to an abrupt halt.

He blinked, looking at the scenery in front of him with disbelief through the eyeholes of the white jade mask.

How could this back garden be exactly the same as the back garden of the Prime Ministers Mansion in the illusion world?

Chen Shanzhi was momentarily unsure whether the illusion world was the same as the Prime Ministers Mansion,

or if this back garden of the Prime Ministers Mansion was the same as the one in the illusion world...

Chen Shanzhi couldn't help but look at Ouyang Wanqing.

"This layout... why does it look so familiar?" He lowered his voice, his tone tinged with a hint of expectation.

Ouyang Wanqing's body stiffened slightly.

She did not turn back, but the slender, jade-white hands hidden within her water-blue wide sleeves quietly tightened around the hem of her dress.

The blush that spread all the way to her delicate earlobes betrayed the panic in her heart at that moment.

"The garden of the Prime Ministers Mansion was recently renovated by a famous craftsman from the south a few days ago," her cold voice came, forcing a calm tone, "Does His Highness the Heir find anything amiss?"

Hearing this answer, Chen Shanzhi was somewhat dazed.

It was actually the latter...

"Amiss? Not at all, it is perfect."

Chen Shanzhi stepped forward, his shoulder subtly brushing against her fragrant shoulder, and whispered into her ear:

"Wanqing, I..."

"Chen Shanzhi, do not overthink it!"

Ouyang Wanqing's cold voice interrupted what Chen Shanzhi wanted to say next.

Chen Shanzhi looked over and saw a hint of dimness in Ouyang Wanqing's beautiful eyes.

No matter how real those days in the illusion world were, they were still just an illusion world.

Now, in reality, you are a man with a betrothal, and I am the future Imperial Consort.

Some things can be seen through, but they cannot be spoken aloud.

Chen Shanzhi lowered his head and said nothing more.

Only his eyes flickered.

"We are about to reach the location of the Poetry Gathering."

Ouyang Wanqing warned him in a low voice, then quickly increased the distance between them, her expression instantly returning to that cold, standoffish look she usually wore.

Chen Shanzhi followed along unhurriedly at the side.

Following the path beside the rockery, the view ahead suddenly opened up, revealing a huge stone pavilion and a lakeside pavilion.

At this time, about twenty or thirty people had already gathered inside and outside the stone pavilion.

The young talents of the Great Jiang dynasty, most of them wearing Confucian robes they considered dashing and elegant, were gathered together, waving folding fans in their hands.

Some held newly written calligraphy, shaking their heads as they recited loudly in front of their peers, showing off their literary talent.

Others were gathered around a stone table, watching a famous Disciple of a great scholar wield his brush, occasionally letting out cheers that were hard to tell if they were genuine or fake.

"Young Miss Ouyang is here!"

Someone with sharp eyes shouted out.

The area around the stone pavilion, which had been noisy and filled with mutual flattery, instantly fell silent.

Everyone's gaze turned in unison, landing on the water-blue figure walking toward them, who looked like a Fairy from a painting.

Ouyang Wanqing nodded slightly, a dignified smile that could not be faulted hanging on her face.

However, when everyone's gaze shifted to the side,

and they saw Chen Shanzhi, who was following closely at her side wearing an exquisite white jade mask, everyone was stunned.

"Who is this person?"

"Wearing a mask and not even daring to show his face, what is his background?"

"The key is... he was actually led in by Young Miss Ouyang herself?"

A buzzing sound of whispers immediately arose from below.

These self-proclaimed elegant scholars present usually found it a luxury to even catch an extra glimpse of Ouyang Wanqing.

Now, seeing a mysterious person whose face they didn't even know being so close to the Young Miss of the Prime Ministers Mansion,

for a moment, the air was filled with the thick scent of aged vinegar.

Just as everyone was in doubt and surprise, a tall, slender young man walked out from the crowd.

The man was dressed in a moon-white Confucian robe, with a high-quality mutton-fat jade pendant hanging at his waist.

He was handsome and dashing, but there was an unmistakable air of aloofness and arrogance between his brows.

It was none other than First Scholar of the Capital, who was currently hailed as the number one talent in the capital.