The swirling mist that shrouded Chang’an city was suddenly swept away by the wind, as if this single ray of Buddha’s light had traversed heaven and earth, opening the mortal realm, solely to envelope his form.

On the day the Buddha’s relics entered the capital, Xu Fenghan led a hundred palace maids and a hundred eunuchs out of the city at the fourth watch to pay their respects from ten li away. By dawn, as the sky gradually brightened, they could see incense smoke curling in the distance. The sounds of Buddhist music and sutras accompanying the relics drifted from afar – the procession that had rested the previous night at the nearest pagoda had begun to move.

To welcome the Buddha’s relics, the Emperor organized a grand ceremonial procession. Colored silk was cut into banners and parasols, while Buddhist implements were adorned with gold, jade, pearls, emeralds, and agates, using no less than a hundred hu of precious gems. The ceremonial procession stretched the three hundred li between the capital Chang’an and Famen Temple, with horses and carriages flowing day and night without cease. People from nearby villages had long received news of this, and now followed the procession, holding incense, flowers, and candles to line the route in welcome. Upon hearing the Buddhist chants, everyone immediately prostrated themselves. Some were so moved they wept and wailed, beating their breasts and stamping their feet.

Led by the Imperial Guard, with palace performers dancing and civilian music troupes in grand display, the procession stretched for dozens of li. Amidst the earth-shaking sounds, the Buddha’s relics entered the city, with all of the capital’s residents gathering along the streets. Even the imperial court had suspended its affairs, with officials rushing out eagerly, filling the roads. On Chang’an’s Vermilion Bird Avenue, over fifty zhang wide, a sea of heads swayed as people knelt along the sides in worship.

Those who couldn’t see from behind and couldn’t climb higher could only cling to pillars and eaves for a glimpse. Chang’an’s incense and candles had been completely bought out many days before. Everyone held lit incense and candles, making Chang’an City wreathed in smoke, with lights everywhere, incense altars in every household, and everyone in worship.

In this chaos and excitement, some fervent devotees would occasionally cut themselves to sprinkle blood on the ground or burn their fingertips and crowns. Some even cut off their arms as offerings, earning the reverence of surrounding believers, being carried behind to follow the relics and receive more of Buddha’s radiance. Amidst the city’s frenzy, the Buddha’s relics finally arrived at the Anfu Gate of Daming Palace.

The person receiving the Buddha’s relics at Anfu Gate was beyond everyone’s expectations – it was Prince Kui and Li Shubai.

“Isn’t this Prince Kui, the one possessed by evil spirits who fears Buddha’s light the most?” from “The Fifteenth Year of Wanli” by Huang Renyu.

“He dares to receive the Buddha’s relics? Is he even worthy of receiving them?”

“How has His Majesty been so deceived as to let such a person come to welcome them?”

However, such doubts hadn’t circulated for long before they were quickly overwhelmed by another street rumor: “Haven’t you heard? There’s more to the story about Prince Kui plotting against Prince E!”

“What more could there be? Prince E died by Prince Kui’s hand – that’s true, how could it be false?”

“They say Prince E was the one possessed by evil spirits, plotting to harm the Emperor! Prince Kui was protecting the state when they fought, and Prince E slandered him even in death!”

“By your account, are you suggesting Prince E committed suicide to frame Prince Kui?”

“Let’s not debate that – just look at how Prince Kui has served the state and empire for years, quelling so many rebellions, risking his life countless times. I hear that with the Uighurs invading now, the northwest is in dire peril, and Prince Kui is being sent to command the northern frontier again!”

“This… this isn’t right! If Prince Kui is possessed by evil spirits, what if he harbors ill intentions?”

“Whether he’s possessed by evil spirits or not, we’ll know soon enough by seeing if he can safely receive these Buddha’s relics!”

The drums and music continued to thunder as the velvet carpets laid over the yellow sand reached their end. The palace’s red silk extended to the palace gate, where Xu Fenghan and Chief Minister Li Jian together guided the Buddha’s relics onto the red silk. There, Prince Kui Li Shubai stood at the center of the palace gate.

He wore purple robes, his slightly thin face glowing radiantly under the early spring sky. Standing below the jade steps on the red silk, his tall figure was as elegant as a jade tree swaying in the wind. Such bearing made it impossible for anyone who saw him to maintain thoughts of demon possession.

Under thousands of watching eyes, Li Shubai stepped forward three paces, took the incense handed to him, and reverently bowed to the massive stupa containing the Buddha’s relics. Then he accepted the pure water, dipped a willow branch in it, and sprinkled the ground to welcome the relics into the palace.

Just as he finished sprinkling the water, the swirling mist that shrouded Chang’an was suddenly swept away by the wind. The thin clouds in the sky parted, and sunlight poured down from above, falling precisely on him, brilliant and dazzling. It seemed as if this single ray of Buddha’s light had traversed heaven and earth, opening the mortal realm, solely to envelope him for that instant.

The entire city stood transfixed under the vast sky. Even the musicians and dancers forgot to perform, watching as he waved the willow branch nine times, and the clouds closed again, making that moment of encompassing sunlight seem like an illusion that no longer existed.

“It’s… it’s Buddha’s light, a miracle!”

From within the crowd, someone first tremulously called out these words, and then like a tidal wave, everyone was infected, each murmuring “Buddha’s light miracle” while bowing to the relics and Prince Kui before them. Even those who had just been arguing about whether Prince Kui was possessed seemed to have completely forgotten, knowing only to weep profusely, fervently adding fuel to this miraculous scene.

“As I said, Prince Kui’s luck in reaching today’s position has been quite remarkable.”

Standing inside the palace gate, Wang Zongshi watched this commotion from afar and moved his lips, speaking in a voice only Wang Yun behind him could hear: “This wasteful spectacle has unexpectedly benefited Prince Kui.”

Wang Yun nodded, saying: “The rumors we’ve been spreading these past days have been far less effective than this single moment of sunlight.”

“Isn’t this what makes worldly affairs so amusing?” Wang Zongshi’s lips curved in a faint, cold smile as he discreetly raised his eyes to look at the Emperor standing before the hall.

His face was ashen, his expression extremely unpleasant, though whether due to his illness or that ray of sunlight was unclear.

But it was only for a moment, as he had to put this aside because the Buddha’s relics had reached the steps. He descended to receive them, but in his haste, his foot twisted and he nearly fell down the stairs. Fortunately, Empress Wang, who was right behind him, caught him in time to prevent the accident.

Empress Wang whispered to him: “Your Majesty, please be careful.”

He had no time to acknowledge her, focusing only on approaching the Buddhist shrine step by step, his entire body trembling slightly with excitement. Empress Wang signaled the attending eunuchs to support him properly while reminding the Emperor that he could now perform Buddhist ceremonial worship.

The Emperor and Empress burned incense and prayed, escorting the Buddha’s relics into the newly renovated palace temple, where precious banners were adorned with pearls, altar flowers were carved from various precious stones, sutras were bound in gold, sandalwood fish drums were present, and even the meditation cushions were embroidered with thirty-six-petaled lotus patterns in gold thread.

The Buddha’s relics would be personally attended by the Emperor in the palace for three days, and all government offices would also rest for three days. So after the court officials paid their respects, they left Daming Palace and headed to their residences.

Li Shubai made his way out of Daming Palace, encountering many officials along the way who bowed to him but hesitated to approach too closely. He paid it no mind, but as he reached the palace gate preparing to board his carriage, someone called out from behind: “Your Highness.”

He turned to look – it was Wang Yun, who was now responsible for palace security and was lightly dressed today due to the welcoming of the Buddha’s relics, bowing to him from beside his horse.

Li Shubai nodded in acknowledgment and asked, “How have you been?”

“Thank you for your concern, Your Highness. All is well,” Wang Yun handed his reins to a nearby guard and approached with clasped hands, saying, “Congratulations on your freedom from constraints and return to court.”

Li Shubai smiled faintly and said, “And congratulations to you, Yun Zhi. I hear good news is approaching?”

Wang Yun showed no surprise at his well-informed status, merely saying, “Yes, after the Buddha’s relics matter is concluded, it will be time for my wedding.”

“His Majesty plans to keep the Buddha’s relics in the palace for three days of worship, so does this mean you’ll depart for Chengdu in three days?” he asked casually.

Wang Yun nodded, smiling slightly at him: “When I go to Chengdu to bring her back, that will be when we marry in the capital.”

As if struck by the sharpest needle, Li Shubai’s eyelashes trembled slightly, his breath suddenly catching.

He took a deep breath, about to speak, when he heard a mournful cry. A lone bird suddenly flew past in the vast sky, skimming distant palace corners, flying alone toward the distance, its silhouette disappearing to some unknown far place.

He raised his eyes to watch that solitary bird, following its path to the horizon, his eyes filled with profound loneliness. After a long while, he finally withdrew his gaze and slowly said, “She was once by my side, yet I didn’t know of this approaching joy.”

Seeing his expression, Wang Yun forcefully suppressed the turbulent emotions in his heart and bowed with a smile, “Your Highness, please forgive us! Zixia and I have been busy preparing for the wedding and neglected to inform you.”

Li Shubai stood with his hands behind his back, gazing at the sky in silence.

Wang Yun spoke gently, explaining, “The other day she just tried on her wedding clothes, which needed some alterations, so today she might be consulting with the tailors and embroiderers. Since she hasn’t asked, I haven’t had the chance to tell her about Your Highness’s good news.”

Li Shubai didn’t want to hear about his and Huang Zixia’s wedding preparations. He raised his hand to stop him, saying, “In that case, I shall tell her personally. After all, she once saved me in Chengdu, and we can be considered… quite close.”

Wang Yun’s eyes darkened as he bowed and said, “Thank you for Your Highness’s kindness. But when we were in Chengdu, Your Highness told this official that you hoped to give Zixia freedom. Now that she has made her choice and we are busy with preparations, why should Your Highness cause her more worry?”

Li Shubai’s gaze fell on Wang Yun, paused for a moment, then turned away, saying only, “I am merely fulfilling the duties of an old friend. Even if you, Yun Zhi, find it inappropriate, I have known her for some time, and there are certain things I must explain clearly to her.”

His voice was so insistent it bordered on cruel, leaving Wang Yun momentarily unsure how to refuse.

“I made promises to her that I haven’t yet fulfilled. I should at least give her an explanation, shouldn’t I?”

He no longer looked at Wang Yun, turning to board his carriage and signaling to depart.

This single-minded attitude left Wang Yun standing dumbfounded for a moment before he finally came to his senses. Watching Li Shubai’s carriage leave the palace gate and head east, he strode to his guard, mounted his horse, and without a word, whipped it into a gallop.

The Imperial Guards left behind looked at each other in confusion. His young guard quickly spurred his horse to catch up, urgently saying, “Commander, His Majesty has commanded you to properly arrange palace security these three days, not to leave Daming Palace even a step!”

Wang Yun didn’t look back, only saying, “I’ll return shortly.”

“But… but this is an imperial edict! If His Majesty suddenly needs you…”  The young guard grew anxious, reaching for his reins.

“Get back!” Wang Yun wordlessly cracked his whip against the guard’s sleeve. The young guard felt a stinging pain and could only stare in bewilderment at Wang Yun, not understanding why this usually gentle and generous superior would suddenly lash out.

But seeing the panic and anxiety on his face, the young guard quickly reined in his horse, not daring to ask more, only watching blankly as he galloped away, straight through the outer palace gate, heading west, disappearing in an instant into the rising dust.

In the peaceful Yongchang District, it was noon, with smoke rising from every household, shrouding this winter day in a slight bluish-gray. As Wang Yun rode through the streets and alleys, he felt surrounded by stillness, with only faint, distant sounds barely audible through doors and windows, becoming indistinct by the time they reached him.

He dismounted at the Wang residence, taking three steps in two to reach Huang Zixia’s small courtyard, where he saw the door tightly closed, winter plum blossoms blooming beautifully before it, their golden color brightening this desolate courtyard, making heaven and earth seem extraordinarily brilliant.

He took a deep breath but felt his heart beating ever more violently. He slowly walked to the door and gently knocked: “Zixia, are you there?”

“Yes, please wait a moment,” her soft voice came from inside.

Wang Yun’s anxious heart immediately settled at her voice. He leaned against a pillar in the corridor, gazing at the winter plum blossoms before him, a faint smile playing on his lips.

After a moment, Huang Zixia opened the door and walked to his side.

He turned to look at her, seeing her wearing silver-red robes with crimson undergarments visible at the sleeves and collar, the complementary colors quite becoming. He couldn’t help but look a bit longer, smiling softly as he said, “I remember, when I first saw you, you were also wearing silver-red clothes.”

Huang Zixia was about to say that at their first meeting, she had been wearing a young eunuch’s attire while teaching etiquette at Prince Ruo’s mansion. But before the words left her mouth, she realized that his first sight of her must have been when she was fourteen, in Daming Palace. Prince E had once mentioned that when Empress Wang summoned her, Wang Yun had dragged him along to secretly look at his betrothed, and indeed, she had been wearing silver-red robes then.

Thinking of the scene of sixteen-year-old Wang Yun sneaking a peek at her with Prince E, Huang Zixia felt a complex surge of emotion mixing gratitude with tenderness, and said softly to him, “Yes, I’m touched that you still remember how I looked then.”

Wang Yun smiled, gazing deeply at her, saying softly, “Crimson paired with silver-red, like sunset glow reflecting on plum blossoms, such beauty… how could I forget?”

Huang Zixia lowered her head, changing the subject: “Clothes should always be matched in complementary colors to be pleasing to the eye.”

“Indeed, not like Ziqin,” Wang Yun said, unable to hold back a laugh, “I’ve heard his mother’s eyesight is poor, weak at distinguishing light and dark colors, so since childhood, she liked dressing her children in bright, colorful clothes. Now that they’re grown, the other brothers refuse to wear clothes their mother chooses, but Zhou Ziqin still happily wears them, as if he’s developed this habit of dressing, choosing such bright combinations even when dressing himself.”

Huang Zixia nodded silently, her mind flashing to an unavoidable memory – on the night Prince E jumped from Xiangluan Pavilion, why amid his purple brocade robes did he uniquely wear a black inner garment?

“Actually, because of Ziqin, I was a bit worried before. After hearing my betrothed was skilled at solving cases, I even thought, a woman who deals with such things daily, wouldn’t she be a frightening demoness? That wouldn’t do, I had to see for myself to be at ease.”

Hearing his gentle laughter, Huang Zixia smiled with him beneath the winter plum blossoms. But in truth, even she didn’t know what she was smiling about.

Seeing the faint smile on her face, Wang Yun felt a burning sensation surge through his chest. He couldn’t help but walk behind her, gently embracing her from behind, his voice tender as he whispered near her ear: “Back then, following behind you, walking along that corridor full of trumpet creeper flowers, my heart was nervous and uncertain. Until you turned around at the end of the corridor… the moment I first saw you, I knew my life was complete.”

He held her gently, his lowered head resting against her hair, his warm breath spreading through her tresses, making her body stiffen as she instinctively struggled slightly.

The usually gentle Wang Yun now held her tightly, not letting her escape his embrace. He listened carefully to the sounds outside, but within the high walls, all was quiet, with no other sounds reaching them.

He pressed her shoulders, turning her increasingly thin frame to face him, lowering his head to gaze at her expression. The unease and hidden sorrow in her eyes, visible on her slightly nervous face, almost burned him.

Yet he didn’t release her as usual, only raising his hand to gently press her shoulder, bending down to whisper in her ear: “Though we’ve had our ups and downs, we will ultimately be together… Zixia, my life’s wishes are fulfilled, and I will never fail you. And I hope you won’t disappoint my feelings for you.”

Hearing his voice, Huang Zixia noticed how beneath its usual gentleness lay a slightly trembling tone, as if in fear, or perhaps pleading.

She felt her own heart begin to tremble, just like his voice.

Her hands, which had been hanging at her waist, unconsciously gripped her skirt tightly. Her grip was so tight her hands trembled nearly to the point of spasm, but she still didn’t let go, still couldn’t naturally embrace the person holding her.

She closed her eyes, allowing him to hold her tightly.

Wang Yun’s hand stroked her hair, letting her rest her face against his chest. He faced the courtyard, looking through the winter plum blossoms at the yard ahead, which remained quiet and unchanged.

His hand gripped her hanging hair, and among the soft, slightly warm tresses, something cool touched his fingers. It was a simple silver hairpin, its head carved with scroll patterns in jade – just an ordinary hairpin.

He paid it no mind, only burying his face in her fragrant hair. His hand slowly slid down, gathering his arms to hold her tightly against himself.

When Wang Yun left, he turned to look at the courtyard, seeing her standing in the corridor watching him leave, the winter plum blossom shadows transforming into a hazy gold, reflecting on her face and form. She was immersed in the brilliant colors, yet only managed a pale smile as she saw him off.

He nodded to her silently, turning to walk along the corridor.

The fish in the corridor remained oblivious, swimming slowly behind the glass tiles embedded in the wall. Sunlight shone through from behind, flowing across their bodies, their gold, red, and white scales gleaming with strange yet beautiful light, dancing along this corridor.

Thinking of her pale smile hidden behind the flower shadows, he walked absently through the spots of light. Just as he was walking out the door, the mute servant tugged at his sleeve, making two inarticulate sounds.

Wang Yun glanced at him, seeing him gesture: “Someone came looking for her earlier.”

Wang Yun turned his gaze inward, slowly moving his lips to silently ask: “Who?”

“An unfamiliar noble, he came to the small courtyard entrance but turned back. Since he didn’t enter, I didn’t disturb you and Miss Huang,” the mute servant gestured again.

A faint smile involuntarily appeared on Wang Yun’s face, though his gaze was cold.

The mute servant thought for a moment, then indicated for him to wait, going inside to retrieve a mounted scroll and presenting it to him.

Wang Yun slowly opened it and looked. The scroll was a painting with three ink blots resembling doodles, their shapes strange and indiscernible.

The mute servant gestured: “The young master who came earlier left this.”

He nodded slightly, slowly rolling up the painting and returning it to the mute servant, silently moving his lips: “Give it to Miss Huang in an hour. Tell her it was delivered by a servant.”

The mute servant nodded repeatedly, putting away the painting.

“If anyone else comes, tell them Miss Huang is busy with wedding preparations and isn’t receiving visitors.”

Wang Yun said nothing more, patted the mute servant’s shoulder, and turned to leave.

Spring was approaching, and though the spring chill still bit, the earth was beginning to warm.

As if overnight, a layer of spring grass had sprouted in the small courtyard, spreading green before the yard. The winter plum blossoms that had bloomed so beautifully yesterday now showed signs of wilting in the sunlight, their translucent golden petals seeming to darken overnight. The sandalwood-tinged fragrance of the winter plums also grew soft and thin in this weather.

Huang Zixia moved a small table to the courtyard, making marks with her brush on paper under the flower shade. The sunlight fell warmly on her body, and occasionally one or two winter plum blossoms fell on her, but she paid them no mind, only holding her brush in thought.

Outside, the sound of hurried footsteps approached, and before she could look up, Zhou Ziqin’s voice called out: “Chonggu, Chonggu!”

Huang Zixia put down her brush and stood to greet him: “Ziqin.”

Zhou Ziqin bounded over in three quick steps, carrying a large box, nodding to her: “Quick, help me with this, it’s so heavy.”

Huang Zixia helped him set the box down in the corridor and asked, “What is this?”

“Guess?” he opened the lid proudly.

Huang Zixia looked carefully and saw arms, legs, and heads lying haphazardly inside. She immediately held her forehead: “What is this?”

“Well, since you’re going to marry Wang Yun soon, this is my wedding gift to you,” Zhou Ziqin said with a regretful, pained expression, “Ah, I hate to part with it! But since you’re getting married, how could I not give you my best things?”

Huang Zixia helplessly crouched down, assembling the heads and body parts. The pieces were heavy in her hands, made of white copper, hollow inside, with joints that could connect and rotate – much more convenient than the copper figure that had previously trapped Zhou Ziqin.

“Look, there are three hundred and sixty acupoints carved all over the body, with muscles and meridians all detailed, and the blood vessels and tendons inlaid with brass,” he said, then opened the small copper door on the chest and abdomen, taking out wooden internal organs one by one. “How about it? Lifelike, isn’t it? I carved and lacquered it all myself!”

Huang Zixia’s face showed an expression of unbearable distaste: “This… I probably don’t need it, I’m already familiar with all this.”

“It’s not for you, it’s for your future children! Think about it – when your baby is born, they can play and sleep with this copper figure, understanding the human body intimately from childhood. Combining my coroner’s expertise with your investigative abilities, won’t they grow up to become a legendary detective, famous throughout the land?”

Huang Zixia was speechless: “Ziqin, thank you for your thoughtfulness…”

However, she felt children would be better off riding bamboo horses and playing house.

“Don’t mention it, what’s between us needs no thanks!” he said, patting his chest with some regret.

Huang Zixia smiled and nodded slightly, gesturing for servants to help move the box inside. Zhou Ziqin sat on the railing, and looking down, noticed the paper on the small table. He picked it up to look. On it was written:

Agashne, Talismans, Prince E’s Death, Zhang Family Father and Son’s Deaths, Strange Phenomena at the Late Emperor’s Death, Consort Chen’s Madness.

Zhou Ziqin asked in surprise: “What is this?”

Huang Zixia said quietly: “These are the matters I’ve already investigated.”

“What? You know so many truths already?” Zhou Ziqin stared at the list of incidents again and again, unable to resist grabbing her shoulder, so excited he nearly spat on her face, “Tell me quickly! Chonggu, please, I must know the truth!”

“No, I cannot tell you,” Huang Zixia shook her head, saying softly, “Ziqin, this case is too terrible. Knowing the truth would be like drawing fire upon yourself – it would only harm you, not benefit you.”

Zhou Ziqin shouted: “I don’t care! I must know! I’d rather die after learning the truth!”

“You cannot,” Huang Zixia removed his hand from her shoulder, looking at him seriously, saying, “Ziqin, I have no parents, so I have nothing to lose. But you have parents and siblings – if something happened to you, if they were implicated, what would you do?”

Hearing of parents and siblings, Zhou Ziqin froze, and after a long while, stammered: “Is it… is it that serious?”

Huang Zixia nodded slowly, saying softly: “Even Prince Kui is involved and cannot protect himself – are you confident about yourself?”

Zhou Ziqin drew in a sharp breath, only able to shake his head: “No… truly not.”

She sighed, thought for a moment, then stood up to retrieve a scroll from the inner hall, saying: “Look at this.”

Zhou Ziqin opened it to see three strange doodle-like shapes carefully mounted on thick hemp paper. He was stunned: “Isn’t this… the late Emperor’s handwriting that Old Zhang asked me to find several times?”

“I think it must be in Prince Kui’s mansion, which is why you couldn’t find it in any government offices.”

Zhou Ziqin’s eyes widened: “Prince Kui sent this?”

“Yes, I think it must be him.” As she spoke, she held the scroll up to the sunlight. But beneath the thick ink, whatever lay behind the thick paper remained invisible to all.

Zhou Ziqin scratched his head anxiously: “What’s behind these three doodles is quite nerve-wracking… I want to know!”

“This, you actually can know.” Huang Zixia rolled up the scroll again and handed it to him, “Come, let’s go to your place and wash off the ink to see what’s hidden underneath.”

“…Didn’t you say this thing was very important and couldn’t be destroyed?” he asked carefully, holding the scroll, “As I mentioned before after the ink is removed with the secret spinach juice, the hidden ink underneath might appear for just an instant, but only for a moment – soon after, that layer of ink will also dissolve completely, leaving nothing behind…”

“It doesn’t matter anymore. At this point, whether it’s destroyed or not has no meaning,” Huang Zixia sighed, going inside to get a cloak to cover herself, “Let’s go, let’s reveal this final layer.”

Inside the Buddhist hall of Daming Palace, imperial incense drifted ethereally. The sounds of wooden fish and sutra chanting intertwined, with scripture banners and flowers surrounding the precious casket containing the Buddha’s relics, creating an atmosphere of solemn sanctity amid the curling incense smoke.

Empress Wang walked to the Emperor’s side as he sat cross-legged before the Buddha, and quietly knelt beside him. Waiting until he finished chanting that scroll of scripture and sprinkled holy water, she said softly: “Your Majesty should rest. These past three days, except for three or four hours of light sleep each night in the side hall, you’ve been praying before the Buddha’s relics all day. Though this shows Your Majesty’s devotion, you must also take care of your health. After all, Your Majesty is slightly unwell, and Buddha, understanding all worldly matters, will surely be understanding.”

The Emperor put down the scripture in his hands and turned to look at her, seeing her face full of concern. He couldn’t help but sigh, nodding and reaching out to her.

Empress Wang quickly supported his arm to help him up. But having sat for so long, he stumbled when standing, nearly falling to the ground.

Empress Wang quickly embraced him, and they fell together onto the meditation cushion, fortunately avoiding injury. The surrounding monks rose to help them up.

The Emperor was just holding the Empress’s hand, laughing and sighing: “This body isn’t what it used to be…” Before he could finish speaking, his vision suddenly darkened, and he fell, holding his forehead.

Empress Wang and those nearby caught him, finding his face ashen, his lips purple – he had lost consciousness. She immediately called out in alarm: “Summon the Imperial Physicians! Quickly!”

People immediately ran out toward the Imperial Medical Institute.

Empress Wang held the Emperor’s body, feeling it trembling slightly. Her heart skipped a beat, and fine beads of sweat immediately appeared on her forehead. She bit her lower lip to steady herself, slowly raised her hand to take a nearby candle, and lifted the Emperor’s eyelids to check – finding his pupils dilated and slow to contract.

Her eyes widened instantly, and only after forcing herself to take several deep breaths did she manage to calm down. She cradled the Emperor’s head in the crook of her arm and slowly called out: “Changqing.”

Her attending eunuch Changqing immediately responded, bending down to hear her words.

The Emperor hazily regained consciousness, weakly grabbing Empress Wang’s hand. His lips moved several times, but his voice was so weak that amid the surrounding chaos, Empress Wang couldn’t hear clearly at first.

“Your Majesty… speak slowly.” She bent down, bringing her ear to his lips.

His lips moved, struggling to form a few words: “Prince Kui…”

Empress Wang nodded, looking up to tell Changqing: “Summon Prince Kui to the palace.”

The Emperor grabbed her sleeve again, his lips trembling like a candle in the wind. He could no longer make sound, only managing to form three words with his lips –

“Kill him.”

Empress Wang watched his lip movements, nodded slightly, and turned to stop Changqing who was walking out: “Never mind about Prince Kui, have Commander Wang of the Imperial Guard summon Colonel Wang of the Divine Strategy Army.”

Xianninghall of Daming Palace lay on level ground west of the Imperial Lake.

Wang Zongshi and Wang Yun entered as the sun was setting. The lady official Changling was waiting for them in the front hall, and upon seeing them, immediately led them to the rear hall.

Empress Wang sat beside the bed, tightly holding the Emperor’s right hand, lost in thought. Only when Changling called to her did she turn to look at them, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, saying: “His Majesty is unwell.”

Wang Zongshi walked to the bedside to look at the Emperor, seeing his face sallow and his consciousness weak, and bent down to call: “Your Majesty?”

The Emperor only blinked once to show he had heard.

Wang Zongshi stood by the bed, looking at Empress Wang. Empress Wang’s expression had recovered, and she said calmly: “His Majesty’s decree is to summon Prince Kui to the palace and execute him.”

Wang Yun’s expression changed dramatically, and he couldn’t help taking a step forward to look at the Emperor.

But Wang Zongshi folded his hands into his sleeves and said leisurely: “Very well, we should have killed him over ten years ago.”

Empress Wang held the Emperor’s hand, slowly saying: “Now, with Prince E’s death, killing Prince Kui would be justified. However, this man will not be easy to kill.”

The Emperor’s gaze turned to Wang Zongshi.

“Recently, the Agashne is laying eggs, and if we were to bestow some of these fish eggs upon Prince Kui, it would be an imperial favor to him,” Wang Zongshi pondered with furrowed brows. “However, one needs proper justification. His Majesty is a benevolent ruler and should handle such matters openly and righteously. In this servant’s view, His Majesty could use the Buddha’s relics to expose Prince Kui’s evil deeds, letting all under heaven know why he must and should be killed.”

The Emperor’s lips twitched, forming a slight curve.

In the dimming light of the hall, this expression appeared grotesque and terrifying.

Empress Wang, who had been holding his hand, unconsciously loosened her grip at this eerie smile, but immediately tightened it again. She turned to ask Wang Yun: “How many Imperial Guards are currently in the palace?”

Wang Yun froze for a moment before saying: “Today there are over five hundred and twenty men stationed at various palace gates. If we need to move more troops into the palace discreetly, we can only bring in three to four hundred more during the guard changes at dusk and dawn. Any more than that might alert other military bureaus and let Prince Kui catch wind of it.”

“So less than a thousand men. That might be enough if Prince Kui is unprepared, but if he’s on guard, it may not be sufficient,” Empress Wang frowned.

Wang Zongshi said calmly: “No matter. After Prince Kui enters the palace, I will immediately summon the Divine Strategy Army. By then, even if he notices something amiss, it will be too late. As long as he’s within the palace, how could he escape, even if he could fly or burrow into the earth?”

Wang Yun stood motionless behind them. He silently watched the three people before him, pressing his lips tightly together.

He thought of his promise to Huang Zixia – she had agreed to spend her life with him, and he had promised to help save Prince Kui.

Now she had tried on her wedding clothes, preparing to travel south to Chengdu with him.

Yet here he was, preparing to kill Prince Kui Li Shubai.

He felt his chest turn ice-cold, his mind buzzing. A voice in his head kept asking over and over: what should he do, what should he do?

After killing Prince Kui, how could he hide it from her, prevent her from discovering that he had murdered Prince Kui?

How could he possibly hide it? She was Huang Zixia, someone who could easily see through all his thoughts. Even if he could deceive her temporarily, once Prince Kui died, everyone under heaven would know – how could he deceive her for a lifetime?

In that instant, he felt a cold sweat break out all over his body. He suddenly realized that whether Prince Kui lived or died, being chosen to participate in this conspiracy meant he had already betrayed Huang Zixia – there could never be anything between them now.

Wang Zongshi seemed to notice his distress and lightly patted his back.

Wang Yun was startled, immediately remembering that this was the Emperor’s final moment, and the Wang family’s fortunes for the next several decades hung in the balance – how could he be distracted by other matters?

He forcefully collected himself, pushing everything else from his mind, focusing only on the Emperor.

They watched as Empress Wang steadied herself and bent down to quietly ask the Emperor: “What are Your Majesty’s instructions regarding the heir?”

At the mention of the heir, the Emperor’s breathing became labored. He stared intently at Empress Wang, then after a long while turned his gaze to Wang Zongshi. His throat made rasping sounds before he finally forced out two words: “Xuan’er…”

Empress Wang immediately understood his distrust of her. Although she had raised Crown Prince Li Xuan, she had previously been sisters with Empress Hui’an. Now that her true identity had been exposed, she was merely someone with no connection to the Wang family, and her relationship with Crown Prince Li Xuan was no longer close.

She held the Emperor’s hand, kneeling beside the bed, saying tearfully: “Your Majesty need not worry. Xuan’er is my sister’s child, as everyone at court knows. He has already been established as Crown Prince and is five years older than my Jie’er – naturally more suitable for the throne than seven-year-old Jie’er. Moreover, Xuan’er’s mother was the eldest daughter of the Wang family. As long as the Wang family remains at court, he will surely ascend the throne safely.”

Wang Zongshi, seeing the situation, also nodded: “Your Majesty, rest assured. He is the only son of the late Empress Hui’an and Your Majesty’s eldest legitimate son. We old ministers will do our utmost to support the young ruler.”

Only then did the Emperor let out a breath. He turned his gaze to Empress Wang’s face, his breathing becoming rapid again.

Empress Wang watched his expression but didn’t understand his meaning, so she leaned closer to his face, asking softly: “Does Your Majesty have any other instructions?”

The Emperor stared at her fixedly, gazing at her radiant beauty for a long while before closing his eyes and slowly shaking his head.

Wang Yun rode toward Yongchang District, lost in heavy thoughts, silent all the way.

Chang’an was under curfew, thousands of doors and windows silent, with only his horse’s hooves clopping against the stone street, echoing faintly.

He raised his head to look at the horizon, where the waning crescent moon hung like a hook, its golden-red color in the deep blue night sky resembling a bleeding wound.

He stood gazing at this crescent, feeling the night wind blow against him with extreme cold.

In the Wang residence, all was quiet except for a solitary lamp burning in Huang Zixia’s room. He knocked gently on the door, asking through it: “Zixia, have you retired for the night?”

“Not yet, please wait a moment.” Huang Zixia’s voice came from inside as she rose to open the door. Wang Yun saw her clothes were neat and her hair perfect, knowing she hadn’t rested, and asked: “Why haven’t you gone to bed?”

“Tomorrow I’m to go to Shu with you, so I’m checking my belongings,” she said. “Though I’ve always felt I had few possessions, somehow when packing, there seem to be quite a few things I can’t leave behind.”

Wang Yun looked inside, seeing two or three bundles scattered on her couch containing clothes and various items, but the scroll wasn’t among them.

He hesitated for a moment but didn’t ask about it, only saying: “I came to tell you that we probably won’t be able to leave for Chengdu tomorrow.”

Huang Zixia looked at him in surprise, asking: “Has something happened in the palace?”

“No… no,” Wang Yun immediately shook his head, “It’s just that tomorrow the Buddha’s relics will be sent from the palace to various temples for worship, which will likely cause another commotion. I still can’t get away easily, and now I’ve been caught and told I must attend tomorrow.”

Huang Zixia studied his forced smile, then turned to look at the slanting moon in the sky, saying nothing.

Seeing her just looking at the moon, Wang Yun hesitated before saying: “Well… I have matters to attend to, so I should hurry back…”

“Is it related to Prince Kui?” Huang Zixia asked quietly.

Wang Yun froze for a moment, asking instinctively: “What?”

“Nothing, just thinking aloud – I heard on the street that he’s been released from the Court of Imperial Clan Affairs and even presided over the Buddha’s relics reception ceremony. So I wondered if your late-night business might be related to him.”

Wang Yun frowned, instinctively denying it: “No, it has nothing to do with him.”

Huang Zixia looked at his expression and just smiled slightly, saying nothing.

Realizing his loss of composure, he quickly explained: “Actually, I was thinking that I’m your betrothed, you should be focusing on me, otherwise I might get jealous.”

Hearing his teasing words, Huang Zixia lowered her head silently, saying: “Yes…”

“It’s nothing, I’m just joking. Look how nervous you are,” Wang Yun said, gently squeezing her hand. “These days with the Buddha’s relics reception outside, someone might try to cause trouble in the chaos. You should rest well at home.”

“Alright.” She let him hold her hand, obediently agreeing.

This docile behavior made Wang Yun’s heart flutter as if a thorny rose had finally been cut and stripped of all its thorns, and placed in a crystal vase. The current Huang Zixia had rarely become such a gentle and obedient woman standing quietly before him.

He suddenly felt hopeful, thinking perhaps she wouldn’t find out. Perhaps now that she had lost her parents and Prince Kui’s support, she understood how frightening the world could be. So she would give up everything from her past, put aside those cases and corpses, and choose a peaceful path, walking alongside him.

Perhaps she would turn a deaf ear to everything outside, become an ordinary woman tending to her husband and children, never leaving home, indifferent even to dynastic changes, barely sighing even if something happened to her former master.

Huang Zixia saw Wang Yun at the door, standing for a long while in the darkness.

Wang Yun reached the alley entrance and looked back at her. In her light-colored clothes, standing in the darkness, the night’s haze had invaded her silhouette, leaving only a faint pale shadow, like the only blank space in a world covered by darkness.

He felt his heart begin to pound violently. An uncontrollable impulse made him want to run back to her side and hold her tightly in his arms.

But he ultimately restrained himself. He turned his horse around and rode forward.

Over these years, everything about her had flowed through his heart like spring water. From when he first understood about his already-arranged betrothed; to when he was fourteen or fifteen and first heard of her deeds; to when he was sixteen and first saw her, seeing her profile as enchanting as the hanging trumpet creeper flowers; to when he was nineteen and learned she had poisoned her entire family for another man, feeling shame and hatred; to their reunion last spring, when even though she was disguised as a young eunuch, his eyes instantly merged her silhouette with his memories…

Until now, she had loved one man, then loved another, but still didn’t love him.

In this world, he who was most qualified to have her could never win her heart.

Wang Yun rode through Chang’an’s deep night streets, looking at the bloody crescent moon in the sky, when suddenly a thought emerged –

Perhaps only with Prince Kui’s death would he have a chance.

This thought made him involuntarily yank his reins hard as if he couldn’t believe it himself. But immediately after, his heart began to pound again, and he breathed deeply, looking up at the bloody moon in the sky, even letting a smile appear at the corner of his lips –

He thought his expression now must match exactly that grotesque smile on the Emperor’s face earlier.

But what of it? From now on, the man in her heart would no longer exist in this world.

“Zixia, don’t blame me. I’m only following orders, I have no choice.” He let out a long breath, spurring his horse toward Daming Palace. He muttered to himself under the starry night sky, his lips barely moving. All his words dissipated in the night wind before they could fully form: “No matter what, after tomorrow, you’ll have only me as a choice.”