Yaocheng, beneath the celestial throne. Shops stand in close succession, their prosperity dazzling like a tapestry woven with gold and silk. A finely adorned sedan chair is carried by four attendants through the bustling streets. The gauze curtain is gently lifted to reveal a face of a child—about three or four years old—her eyes deep as black stones, fixed with curiosity on the vibrant scene around her. This young girl is none other than Ling Wanwan. "Stop the sedan," says the soft voice of a child. The chair descends silently and smoothly, settling with grace. The curtain is fully raised, and a maid of about fourteen steps forward. She wears a white floral dress and skirts, her hair tied in two neat buns. Her face is refined, her large eyes bright and clear—black against pale skin. "Miss," she bows respectfully, "what would you like me to do?" "I'd like to go shopping," says Ling Wanwan, observing the maid’s steady demeanor with satisfaction. This woman's name is Yin Qin. Though she can read and write, she was demoted from her original position in the kitchen after clashing with Qi Tang—hence her current role as a junior servant. By chance, she had been assigned to Ling Wanwan’s household. Seeing how composed and humble Yin Qin was, Ling Wanwan decided to keep her close. "Very well," says Yin Qin, extending both hands for Ling Wanwan to step down. "Go back now," commands Ling Wanwan to the four sedan bearers. "Come back one hour later to fetch me at the largest inn." "But—" the four men exchange glances, puzzled. "Miss," begins the leading bearer, "you don’t have any attendants with you. It would be best if we stayed close to ensure your safety. Otherwise, when we return, we’ll have no way of explaining ourselves to General Qi Tang." Ling Wanwan glances at her small frame and at Yin Qin’s slender form—both delicate—and then speaks firmly. "Let them go back," she says coldly. "I don’t need any guards. A hundred guards wouldn't stand a chance against me. Most of the so-called attendants are nothing but showy men who speak only about wine and meals." "Yes, yes," they reply instantly, now hesitant. This young Miss Wanwan is colder than even General Qi Tang—her very presence commands respect. Watching as the four bearers carry off their sedan in a flurry of departure, Ling Wanwan smiles faintly at the corners of her mouth. These men have indeed been rude to challenge her decisions. "Shall we go?" Yin Qin looks around and sees that everyone on the street is stunned by the sight of such a young child commanding so much attention. Though it's said that Miss Wanwan has magical powers, she seems no different from an ordinary child—only with a cool demeanor. And given how graceful her appearance is—so refined and noble—it’s hard to believe someone this young could be so dignified. "I’ll go ahead," says Ling Wanwan, walking lightly at the front while Yin Qin follows closely behind, ever watchful not to lose sight of her. "Go buy a string of candied hawthorn jellies," says Ling Wanwan, spotting an old man in a green robe carrying a stand of glowing red and golden jellies on his shoulder. "Please go now." "Of course, Miss," Yin Qin replies, yet adds with concern, "I’ll return promptly—please wait here for me, will you?" "Understood," says Ling Wanwan, waving her hand. And off Yin Qin walks toward the market street. Ling Wanwan looks up and sees that no merchant stalls are clearly visible. Her petite height makes it difficult to see past the level of pedestrians’ calves. "Hurry—there’s a fresh shipment coming in from the slave market right ahead!" "Really?" murmurs one man, chuckling. "I heard they’ve got female slaves from the Tiger Kingdom—each one is graceful and poised. If we bring them home as consorts, I’ll say they’ll be delighted to stay." The two men pass by, their words awkwardly suggestive. Ling Wanwan watches the scene unfold with quiet interest. The old man’s eyes shine when he speaks of the new arrivals; his voice carries a certain charm and strength—so different from what she expected in an ancient market. Then, as the old man gestures to reveal a young man beneath a cascade of long black hair, he lifts the veil and presents a face of refined beauty. The brows are sharp like blades, the eyes deep purple—full of intensity—and radiating a clear, fierce disdain toward him. His hands clench against his iron chains, which creak with each movement. "Wonderful," murmurs one onlooker. "Indeed strong-willed." "How much would you offer for such a man?" asks someone else. The old man is delighted by the rising bids—he gestures widely as if he’s in command of a grand theater. The price keeps climbing: five hundred, seven hundred, nine hundred, one thousand, one thousand five hundred—and now the crowd watches with growing excitement. Ling Wanwan observes the young man closely—the purple gaze seems mysterious to ancient eyes, but to her—having traveled across continents and lived amidst world-class legends—is utterly ordinary. She sees strength in his expression; a fierce resistance that intrigues her. "Two thousand liangs," she says suddenly. Everyone turns in surprise. She lifts both of her small fingers toward the crowd as if making a request with elegance—the gesture so tender yet so bold. "Where did this little girl come from?" gasps one onlooker, astonished. "Is that a child playing at the market?" "That’s quite something," says another young man holding a jade fan, dressed in white robes—his bearing graceful, but his tone somewhat coarse and self-centered. "This is no place for a junior maid to be making such demands." "Ah!" he adds with a touch of mock concern. "You’ll have to grow older before you can take on such responsibilities!" The crowd bursts into laughter. Yin Qin blushes deeply under the wave of applause, her face reddening as if cooked by steam, and whispers softly to Ling Wanwan. "I still have room to play," says Ling Wanwan, her gaze fixed firmly on the white-robed man. Then she turns to the old man—the one who has just been so impressed—and says with quiet dignity, "Will you sell him?" Everyone is stunned—some even confused. The young man stammers trying to find words—he feels both flattered and embarrassed. "Miss," says the old man, now respectful of her appearance despite the sudden request, "do you have silver coins?" "Certainly," replies Ling Wanwan. "Would you like me to go with him?" The young man looks at her—the girl wears a double braid adorned with pearl flowers, dressed in soft pink silk robes. Her bearing is refined, not childish but neither cold nor full of longing—only calm and composed. In her eyes, there’s no judgment, no desire for possession—not even pity—but an unshakable stillness that stirs something within him. He nods hesitantly, silently deciding to accept the offer. "Excellent," says Ling Wanwan with a smile. Then she draws out a jade badge from her waist and flicks it gently into the air—its path gliding through the crowd—landing securely in the old man’s hands. "Take this to the Northern Commandant's Office at the general's residence," she instructs. "Pay for him there." "The General's Office?" "Who is this young lady, then?" "Is she one of the General’s daughters?" "But… the General’s eldest daughter is much older than her." "Oh!" says someone else in astonishment. The crowd murmurs as they gather around, their eyes wide with interest. Ling Wanwan smiles slightly—she realizes now that word has already spread beyond her household. As for the young man, he listens to the conversation with a complex mix of emotions—he is uncertain about what lies ahead. — *《Nine-Year-Old Fairy Princess》* **First Chapter – 3,900 words:** Please send your flowers. Cast your votes. Place your bookmarks. Leave your paw prints here—wonderful! (End)