Chapter 59: Which Fairy Has Been Banished to the Mortal World?

"Is everything clear now?"

Ye Chang stood at the northwesternmost corner of the Western Market, turning back to ask Ji Wen.

Ji Wen’s face twitched slightly. “It’s clear.”

“All of these are to be demolished. Once cleared, the area along the pond—use the southern side as a warehouse for timber, and the western side can be developed into a street. Look—the west side is mostly empty land; just remove that one row. We can now pave the street with cement, three zhang wide, and prohibit carriages or horses—pedestrians only…”

What Ye Chang was explaining to Ji Wen was the concept of a pedestrian commercial street from a later era. However, most of the establishments here were not shops selling goods, but places of pleasure. He explained everything in detail; Ji Wen nodded repeatedly while a clerk beside them hastily jotted down notes.

By now, Ji Wen and the clerks were truly in awe of Ye Chang’s planning abilities.

Little did they know, Ye Chang himself possessed no real expertise in urban planning—at least not much. He had simply seen enough commercial and bar streets in his own time to understand how to elevate a district’s appeal.

The original plan of Chang’an was exceptionally orderly, perfectly reflecting the Chinese pursuit of harmony. Yet, even within order, there ought to be elements that enrich the spirit and please the eye. Thus, running a road alongside the soon-to-be-dug pond, and building a row of shops on the opposite side, even while generally following the Western Market’s original layout, the various details would make the street brilliant and vibrant.

“Once this is done, there will be waterside scenery, convenient transport, efficient waterway traffic, and with the first cement road prohibiting carriages—such a rule—this street will surely become the crown jewel of the Western Market. The property values of the shops here will at least double. Ji Gong, if I were you, I would hurry to invest in property here,” Ye Chang said with a half-smile to Ji Wen.

Ji Wen’s face twitched again. He had thought Ye Chang had called him here to set a trap, but unexpectedly, Ye Chang had already prepared a solution.

According to Ye Chang’s plan, though there would be significant demolition, all shop owners would be compensated: the newly planned two streets and three alleys along the pond would be enough to accommodate every displaced shop. That removed the first obstacle. As for the future prosperity, it would more than make up for the loss from months of reconstruction.

Ji Wen was certain that, except for a few, most affected households would support the Prefect’s plan to dig the pond. In fact, as soon as Han Chaozong released the news and Ye Chang’s blueprint, those to be relocated would actively push for the project.

If so, why had Ye Chang involved him in this? After all, he had made things difficult for Ye Chang twice; why would Ye Chang offer him such a great merit?

Ye Chang’s smile made Ji Wen uneasy.

What he didn’t know was that Ye Chang cared little for the credit. No matter how much merit Ji Wen gained from this, Han Chaozong would always outshine him. Conversely, managing this project would require all of Ji Wen’s attention, leaving him no time to investigate Yang Fu’s death or to trouble Ye Chang.

By the time the project was done in half a year, Ye Chang would have returned to Xiuwu. Besides, Chang’an would be full of new cases by then, and Ji Wen would be busy elsewhere. Even if he remembered, the only clue would be those two arrows.

Moreover, Ye Chang was only the planner; Han Chaozong would be lobbying for policy support, and they still needed someone with strong execution skills to oversee the project. Historically, those labeled as "harsh officials" were effective executors—Ji Wen was likely no exception.

In the end, Ji Wen didn’t voice his doubts; he knew it would be pointless.

Ye Chang put away the blueprints, about to suggest they move on, when suddenly a small hand reached from behind and snatched the papers from his grasp.

It was a little hand, dressed in a Daoist robe.

Ye Chang froze. The monk Shanzhi had been shadowing him since the recent assassination attempt, so why hadn’t he reacted to this?

Then he saw the "attacker" and understood why the monk had not intervened.

A furious little Princess Chong was standing there, head held high, clutching the papers and glaring at him.

“So it’s Your Highness!” Ye Chang quickly recovered, cupped his hands respectfully, and crouched down, unable to resist ruffling the little princess’s hair in her Daoist topknot.

This gesture enraged the eunuch beside her.

“How dare you!” the eunuch shrieked.

But Princess Chong was not angry. What seemed to be a grave offense was, to her, a novelty.

She had matured early, and so had her rebelliousness; what others thought proper, she might not care for; what others deemed rude, she might find amusing.

Besides, she found Ye Chang’s hand gentle.

“How did you come out here?” Ye Chang asked.

Ji Wen, hearing him call the little princess “Your Highness,” was already terrified—a princess here, and Ye Chang had just touched her hair! Even a prime minister wouldn’t dare such a thing.

Yet Ye Chang had done it so naturally, as if she were not the emperor’s daughter, but just the girl next door.

“Don’t mess up my hair!” the princess protested, but her words were ignored. Ye Chang had not only messed her hair, he was now holding her hand. Glancing up at the eunuch, he said, “Hush, don’t make a scene.”

The eunuch looked ready to explode, but a glare from the princess silenced him.

“It’s sweltering out here. Let’s go sit under the trees,” Ye Chang said, leading her away.

“What do you mean by this?” she asked, glaring at him as they sat in the shade. Ji Wen tried to approach but was blocked by the eunuch and the maids.

“What?” Ye Chang replied.

“Why haven’t you come to the palace?”

“Ah, well…”

Ye Chang had no interest in entering the palace, promising as that prospect might be. Before he could think of an explanation, Princess Chong continued, “And why did you send that thing—what you called a ‘dry share’—to me?”

The reason was simply that, after learning about this little girl, Ye Chang felt a mix of sympathy and calculation. While others courted the favored princesses, Ningqin or Xianyi, he thought that befriending this overlooked princess might prove unexpectedly useful.

After all, she was only an attachment to Princess Yuzhen…

“Here’s the thing: didn’t Your Highness award fifteen gold coins to the winning football team the other day?” Ye Chang explained quietly. “Those rough fellows, encouraged by you, decided to promote the game throughout Chang’an, organizing a league, holding matches each year, and charging for admission…”

It took him some effort to explain the league, and then he said, “They’re grateful to Your Highness. Without your fifteen gold coins, they would never have come up with such a profitable idea—so they gave you a share.”

The so-called “dry share” was a certificate of equity. Hearing this, Princess Chong pursed her lips even tighter. “So, it wasn’t you who gave it, but them?”

“Uh—”

“These past weeks, you’ve forgotten all about me; you haven’t come to the palace, not even sent me anything. Only those rough men remember me?” Her face was icy, her seriousness betrayed by the mist welling in her eyes.

In the palace, she was neglected; her mother long gone, her father, Emperor Li Longji, indifferent to her because of her premature birth, had sent her away to a Daoist temple. The palace maids and eunuchs were either dismissive or fearful, her brothers and sisters ignored her. Once, out with her sisters, she had met Ye Chang, who, instead of currying favor with them, was simply kind to her. That rare warmth felt like family.

Now, even that warmth seemed to be fading.

Fury welled up in her—after all, she was a daughter of the Li family; that domineering willfulness ran in her blood.

“How could I have forgotten? If I hadn’t remembered, how could the gift have reached you? Those rough fellows couldn’t have entered Yuzhen Convent on their own,” Ye Chang soothed, not quite understanding why she was on the verge of tears, but well-practiced in comforting girls from his own family. “Besides, I’ve prepared a better present for you!”

“Really?” she asked.

“Of course. Come with me.”

He led the princess into a tailor’s shop. The clerks looked surprised to see a young Daoist girl enter with him.

This was a tailor’s shop, common near the pleasure quarters, alongside makeup stores.

“I ordered a set of clothes earlier—now that she’s here, take her measurements and make them to fit her,” Ye Chang instructed.

Hearing this, Princess Chong’s anger melted away: he hadn’t lied! He truly had a gift for her.

What she didn’t know was that for Ye Chang, a trip to Chang’an wasn’t complete without bringing gifts home. He’d decided to have a set of clothes made for Xiang’er—though the style might seem odd in this era, he could claim it was the latest fashion in Chang’an, and who in the countryside would travel ten days just to check?

Even if some stubborn elders muttered their disapproval, they wouldn't dare question the taste of Chang’an.

In an age of poor information, such little deceptions allowed Ye Chang to set new trends. So, he’d prepared several designs, and seeing the skilled work in this shop, decided to place an order.

In Xiuwu County, there wasn’t a single decent tailor; people usually hired weavers to come to their homes. Here, the tailors quickly measured the princess, and her frown soon blossomed into a smile.

No matter her age, any girl is delighted by new clothes.

“How long will it take?” Ye Chang asked.

“These are children’s clothes, just a bit unusual in style, but not much fabric or labor. If you’re not in a rush, come back tomorrow. If you are, please wait about an hour,” the tailor replied.

Ye Chang was impressed by the speed of these skilled women. Hearing it would take only an hour, he looked at the eager princess and hoped to see her in her new outfit soon—after all, having a Tang princess as your model was no small thing.

“I have some errands nearby. I’ll return in an hour. If you finish quickly and well, there will be a bonus,” Ye Chang said, then led the princess out.

She didn’t fully understand his city plan, but she vaguely sensed Ye Chang was a man of great talent.

An hour can be short or long. With everyone busy, time passed quickly. The princess urged him several times, and Ye Chang always patiently reassured her. In the end, she had no choice but to wait. If it had been any other princess, the palace would have been thrown into an uproar by now. But Princess Chong was always overlooked, and as a Daoist, she could wander freely. She followed Ye Chang around the market, listening as he explained his plans; at first, she didn’t understand, but gradually she found it all rather interesting.

By the time they returned to the tailor’s, dusk was falling. The clerk announced the clothes were ready—what was an hour’s work to these skilled hands?

The princess was eager to try them on. There was a changing room, and her maids helped her dress. She bounced out, looking so lively and adorable that Ye Chang was momentarily stunned.

The outfit was a blend of East and West: a short, ruffled blouse with a large collar, a blue striped skirt just past the knees, and gauzy stockings as thin as a cicada’s wings—altogether, the picture of a modern schoolgirl, lively yet decorous, catching every eye.

“How do I look?” she asked.

Ye Chang gave her a thumbs-up. “You look beautiful!”

She beamed, having admired herself in the bronze mirror for a long time. The mirror wasn’t very clear, but she could still see how lovely she looked.

Yet Ye Chang felt something was missing. After a moment’s thought, he stepped forward, untied her hair, and quickly plaited two long braids, tying them with purple ribbons into bows.

“Now go look in the mirror again,” Ye Chang said with a smile.

The princess happily posed in front of the mirror, hardly believing the girl in the reflection was herself. Only after Ye Chang called her did she reluctantly step away.

“Do you like it?” Ye Chang asked.

In her good mood, she nodded sweetly.

“It’s yours. Would you like to wear it home, or have it wrapped up?”

Her mood suddenly darkened.

If she went back, she could only dress as a Daoist nun—she could never wear this again.