The magnificent palace halls entered her field of vision, then were cast behind her—like giant beasts with heads held high, their backs against the vast and overcast sky.

The past half of her life swept through Qun Qing’s mind like a cavalcade of fleeting scenes.

Chang’an was often rainy. The eleven-year-old young lady sprawled listlessly at the tower window, gazing at just such a sky.

Downstairs, wine cups clinked and laughter rose amid the revelry. Guests praised her elder brother Shi Yuming’s poetic talent, yet those poems had clearly been composed by her.

Mother forbade her from standing out, forbade her from attending the banquets. Her only way to participate was to quietly pass out poems during the flower-verse games, listening to praise that should have been hers fall instead upon her brother’s head.

“Second Young Master, why is your sister never to be seen?”

Someone asked. Shi Yuming replied indifferently as Mother had instructed: “Liu Niang doesn’t enjoy liveliness.”

“The young lady is too timid and shy!” An elder seriously advised, “A woman may lack talent, but every noblewoman in Chang’an is outstanding. Your Father holds sixth rank—she too must see the world, lest when she marries, people look down on her. You have such poetic talent—why not teach her?”

Others laughed: “How do you know he hasn’t tried! Liu Niang is a strange creature—barely seen from childhood to now. Perhaps she fears exposing her ignorance and losing face completely!”

Qun Qing’s breathing grew rapid and burning, a fire blazing within her chest.

When the flower-verse game began, Shi Yuming would excuse himself, run up to the tower in two or three steps, and skillfully reach his hand under the curtain, shaking it up and down—meaning “write quickly.”

Her brush tip touched the paper strip, spreading an ink blot. She vengefully scribbled all over it and stuffed it back into that hand.

When Shi Yuming returned to his seat and opened it, finding only a drawing of a turtle, he could only improvise. After a moment, Qun Qing got her wish—enormous laughter erupted from downstairs. Shi Yuming had made a complete fool of himself.

Amid the laughter, everyone saw the young lady standing on the stairs with an angry face, and the brush she threw down from above, splattering ink everywhere.

The conclusion of this incident was Mother bringing her to the study for private questioning. When she refused to admit fault, her usually gentle and amiable mother suddenly flew into a rage, raising her hand and slapping her hard: “Just because you’ve read some books, do you think you’re so remarkable?”

This was the first time Mother had struck her.

Zhu Ying’s fury frightened Shi Yuming, who had come to intervene. He stood in place looking at Mother, completely stunned.

Qun Qing covered her burning cheek and ducked into the shadows between the bookshelves. More humiliating than being struck by Mother was having Shi Yuming witness it.

“Come out.” Zhu Ying said sternly. Qun Qing kept retreating deeper into the shelves. The scent of damp ink surrounded her from all directions, comforting her. Shi Yuming pulled at Mother while Father also came to intervene.

Unable to dissuade Mother, Father suddenly grabbed Shi Yuming by the collar and dragged him out. After a while, the sound of a leather belt lashing flesh came from the courtyard.

Father beat people grimly and harshly. The youth was silent at first, but eventually burst out with pig-like squeals: “Liu Niang herself wanted to compose poems in my place—she wanted to hear others’ evaluations. What exactly did I do wrong… I was wrong! I shouldn’t have tattled to Mother! I was wrong! I was wrong!”

Father seemed to be competing silently with Zhu Ying. Only when Mother finally released Qun Qing and rushed out to the courtyard, telling Father to stop beating him, did he cease, glaring at Zhu Ying.

That evening, Qun Qing and the bruised and swollen Shi Yuming passed each other. Neither acknowledged the other.

Only her brother’s originally handsome face looked truly comical. Qun Qing forcibly held back her laughter.

As they brushed past, Shi Yuming said irritably: “Mother said you’re duller than others, Liu Niang. If you can’t study well, don’t think about showing off and making a fool of yourself.”

Shi Yuming cupped his swollen cheek and added recklessly: “Mother’s not wrong. Your brother has seen so many young ladies—you’re truly the worst one. You’ve been solitary since childhood, so fierce, always defying me. No one will want to marry you in the future!”

Qun Qing turned to leave, but Shi Yuming called “hey, hey, hey” again, swallowing his humiliation to say: “Look on the table—Father left something for you.”

Qun Qing turned her head and saw by candlelight a large persimmon, already peeled, resting on Father’s hand-washed, faded handkerchief.

Her Father Shi Yu was Great Chu’s brave and fierce general. His figure standing at the alley entrance resembled an iron tower. When he first yanked back her kite that had flown over the wall and crushed it in his hand, Qun Qing had feared him. Between father and daughter existed an indescribable awkwardness.

Father was inarticulate and didn’t know how to interact with his daughter, so he could only adopt this approach—leaving food and playthings under the lamp, all for her.

Her Father’s love was like this persimmon.

Qun Qing picked up the persimmon and took it to the embroidery room to eat slowly, accepting this silent guilt and wordless comfort.

…

Several days later, Qun Qing overheard Father and Mother quarreling in their room, seemingly again about her. The cause was Father secretly refusing some messenger from the palace behind Mother’s back.

She heard her usually taciturn Father say: “Why must you drag her into the vortex again?”

Mother’s voice was cold: “Then what would you have her do?”

Father said decisively: “Let her live an ordinary life. In another two years she’ll marry. She can wed, bear children, and live a stable life within Chang’an city.”

Marry? Marry whom?

That Lin Yujia she most disliked, who loved to lecture people?

Qun Qing imagined herself marrying Lin Yujia, bearing children, staying in a small chamber living their humble life together—goosebumps crawled all over her back. Unbearable fear drove her to run to the stables. Unable to unhitch Shi Yuming’s horse, she could only mount her small donkey and whip it toward the palace gates.

She had to intercept that messenger and tell him she was willing to enter the palace.

Mother had previously let something slip—Qun Qing knew Mother pushed her nearly harshly to study and taught her embroidery from dawn to dusk, ultimately so she could enter the palace and pursue a woman’s official career.

The imperial palace was unknown to her, but surely better than marrying Lin Yujia.

As the sun sank below the horizon, she finally caught up with a red-robed eunuch at the Anfu Gate. The eunuch told her he wasn’t the messenger—the messenger had long since returned.

This year’s Six Bureaus examination she would definitely miss.

“Wait two years,” the eunuch said.

Fearing she’d be married to Lin Yujia in two years, Qun Qing grabbed him and begged persistently.

“So you’re Zhu Ying’s daughter, grown this tall.” The white-haired old eunuch looked her over twice and smiled, having someone bring brush and ink. He added a few strokes to the registry. Qun Qing watched her name appear stroke by stroke, bathed in the bloody remnants of sunset.

He said: “This old servant is selecting a study companion for His Majesty’s seventeenth daughter, Princess Bao’an. Being the Princess’s study companion also allows palace entry. As long as you arrive at Yi Garden in ten days for the selection and catch the Princess’s eye, all will be well.”

Ten days later, Qun Qing went behind her grandparents’ backs and tied her donkey to a post outside Yi Garden.

Over a dozen young ladies sat together in the water pavilion. The jackets and skirts on their bodies, the silk scarves they wore, the fans they held—all were the most expensive styles in Chang’an city, covered in embroidery. Their faces were delicate and beautiful, their expressions proud. They laughed together from time to time, making even the corridor and pavilion brilliantly radiant.

Qun Qing lowered her head to glance at the sky-blue silk jacket and skirt she wore. Someone suddenly touched the back of her hand.

The arrival was Weiran, daughter of the Director of the Chancellery.

That time she’d outrageously disrupted the banquet had attracted some attention—countless visiting cards were sent to her home. But with her not allowed to respond, only Weiran persisted in writing to her, thus becoming Qun Qing’s only friend among the young ladies.

Weiran was elaborately dressed and made up, her eyelids traced with fine gold pen. She looked Qun Qing over twice and showed a perplexed expression.

Without her saying anything, Qun Qing had already comprehended—so entering the palace required elevating one’s usual dress standards. She was dressed too shabbily.

Weiran turned her head and removed her own earrings. Ignoring Qun Qing’s refusal, she helped her put them on: “Today Mother absolutely insisted on loading me down with accessories—so vulgar. I was just thinking of removing them.” As she spoke, she pulled out a thin hairpin to insert at Qun Qing’s temples.

Weiran agilely caught both of Qun Qing’s wrists, firmly preventing her from removing them, staring at her face while teasing: “Oh—Liu Niang, you’re blushing.”

The wind blew across Qun Qing’s heated cheeks. Her mind was like a pot of boiling water—faced with such kindness, she couldn’t squeeze out a single word in response.

Fortunately, delicate laughter floated over from the water pavilion, rescuing her. Qun Qing said: “You go talk with them.”

“Shall we go together?”

“I won’t go.” Qun Qing said. “If they chat about song and dance or calligraphy and painting, I understand nothing and will create an awkward silence.”

Weiran frowned: “Is your mother still forcing you to embroider four hours daily? Sooner or later I’ll have my mother go talk some sense into her. You’re a noblewoman, not a palace maid! Needlework just needs to be passable—why spend so much time on it? Look at your fingertips, all callused. Is she deliberately tormenting you?”

Qun Qing said: “I only spend more time because I never embroider well enough.”

“‘Never well enough’?” Weiran’s eyes widened. “Are you showing off? How can anyone else survive? I think it’s because your mother was formerly the Eldest Princess’s clothing maid—her standards are ten feet higher than everyone else’s. If you ask me, your mother is a bit partial to your brother. Look at how she treats you versus how she treats Second Young Master?”

Qun Qing couldn’t help saying: “My mother is very good.” If Zhu Ying truly treated her poorly, she wouldn’t teach her to read or think of sending her to broader horizons.

Weiran slapped her arm: “You’re like a little dog your mother raised—whatever she does, you say is good.” Both found this amusing and laughed.

Weiran looked toward the pavilion again. Qun Qing understood she wanted to converse with those young ladies. For noblewomen in Chang’an city, socializing was a necessary component: “Go quickly.”

“You’re really all right alone?”

“I’m fine. When the time is almost up, I’ll come find you.” Qun Qing’s eyes stared fixedly at the distant artificial mountain, where a small eunuch struggled to pull a horse. The horse kept turning back and snorting, refusing to budge, making the small eunuch sweat profusely.

It was a white steed, magnificently formed and handsome, hooking her attention.

At home, Father forbade her from riding large horses, so she could only pretend to be a proper lady according to his wishes. Only when she and Shi Yuming went out alone could she secretly ride her brother’s horse. But Shi Yuming only let her ride two circuits before chasing her down, leaving her to gaze enviously at her brother seated high on horseback.

Once Weiran entered the pavilion, Qun Qing walked quickly to the artificial mountain, bowed to the confused small eunuch, stood on tiptoe, placed one hand against the horse’s muzzle, and with her other cool hand circled around its neck, slowly grooming its mane.

Shi Yuming had once taught her to tame horses. The originally restless white horse slowly stopped snorting and actually lowered its head, continuously nuzzling and rubbing against her with its nose, appearing deeply attached.

The small eunuch was overjoyed: “The horses in the garden are usually ridden by the beast master. If you don’t mind, Miss, ride it to the stables—this servant will lead the way.”

This suited Qun Qing perfectly. She vaulted onto the horse.

Qun Qing gently guided the white horse, trying not to let the hoofbeats make disturbing sounds. The white horse beneath her seemed to share her mind, making her feel as if she were riding the wind. Smoothly she passed through the water corridor, circled the pavilion, free as the wind as she entered the stables.

She pressed her legs against the horse’s flanks, but it directly exited the stables and galloped again toward the pavilion and corridor. The small eunuch, exhausted, leaned against the horse-tethering stone, shouting after her: “Must be cooped up and bored, doesn’t want to be tied! Miss, circle it a few times and ride it back!”

It wasn’t just the white horse that was cooped up and bored.

Qun Qing had already gone far afield.

The selection time hadn’t arrived yet. Qun Qing rode the horse for several circuits before tying it up. Reluctantly stroking its mane, she brushed clean her skirt and walked toward the water pavilion, her heart beating extremely lightly.

Even if she wasn’t selected today, at least she’d gotten to ride a horse—not a wasted trip.

However, when Qun Qing returned to the water pavilion, she froze.

The noblewomen who’d been sitting in the water pavilion chatting had all come down and stood quietly arranged along the path. Not only that, they all stared at her in unison, their expressions varied. Only Weiran looked excited, wanting to speak but hesitating.

Qun Qing stopped, unable to read the lip movements. Her heart was already panicking—fearing she’d inadvertently caused some disaster—but her steady character didn’t show on her face.

Then from that group of young ladies slowly emerged the most radiant one, like a lotus flower emerging from water.

She wore a golden-red jacket and skirt. Her voluminous hair bun was adorned with fan-shaped gold ornaments. Her skin was delicate as cream, her lips vivid as plum blossoms, her eyes bright as if sprinkled with broken stars.

She grabbed Qun Qing’s wrist, turned around, and proclaimed loudly to those pairs of eyes: “Did you all see? This palace chooses her.”

…

Later, Qun Qing was already serving as study companion in Luanyi Pavilion. Princess Bao’an explained that she’d disguised herself as an official’s daughter and mixed among the noblewomen at the selection specifically to observe their usual behavior, but not one suited her taste.

“They know everything, all want to outdo everyone else, but actually understand nothing—truly vulgar. Then this palace saw you.”

“Among so many people, I chose you at first glance.” Yang Fu stopped fanning, her bright eyes turning over to gaze at Qun Qing in rapture. “You’re different from everyone else. You’re like… our Great Chu’s Congxi!”

Congxi was the legendary thirteenth prince of the Glazed Kingdom. He rode a white horse, handsome and brave beyond compare. After death, he went to the celestial realm to become a guardian deity.

Before Yang Fu, no one had ever praised her this way. Qun Qing had never felt she was worth expecting, had even once thought herself inferior to others.

Princess Bao’an’s favor was like sparks falling on her head, illuminating Qun Qing’s face.

Qun Qing didn’t know how to respond. Her lowered lashes trembled, her mind again like boiling water.

During her days as study companion in the palace, she didn’t slacken a single day. Though called a study companion, she actually served as maid and playmate. Making kites, crafting river lanterns, playing go, playing polo—there was nothing Qun Qing couldn’t learn, couldn’t accomplish for the Princess.

From that time on, for Qun Qing the imperial palace meant the ministers’ obeisance beneath Paulownia Flower Terrace, Lin Yujia’s resentful gaze when he saw her, endless archery practice, the winter clothes and admonishments Mother sent, the gorgeous palace robes and jewelry Princess Changping bestowed upon her. She’d just taken them out, marveling at their splendor rivaling a princess’s, and hid the palace robes under her bed, but Yang Fu insisted on pressing her to change into them, pulling her hands in the chamber saying: Don’t they look wonderful? Just like you’re my sister…

It was Princess Bao’an’s carefree, smiling face.

The Princess loved to play but didn’t love studying. Daily, Qun Qing forced herself to rise and dragged Yang Fu out of bed to make up coursework, standing beside her watching her write crookedly, silently completing it a hundred times over in her mind.

Such simple questions—why couldn’t she write them?

Yang Fu sat before the table, her chin nodding bit by bit: “Sitting is so uncomfortable. Let me lie down a bit more.”

She lay down and fell asleep.

When the sun shone high on her cheeks, she startled awake, anxious to tears: “What time is it? What should I do?”

Qun Qing stood in the morning light, placing a stack of policy essays on the table—written in imitation of the Princess’s handwriting: “Don’t do this again next time…”

Before she finished speaking, Yang Fu broke into smiles through her tears.

Qun Qing wrote coursework for Princess Bao’an for three years. She’d write it once herself, then have Yang Fu memorize it character by character and copy it once more. This barely gave Princess Bao’an some comprehension and turned the tutor’s iron-blue face to one of relief.

In the last years of the Shengping era, Northern Rong invaded Chu Kingdom. The tutor struck his head against a pillar in the hall and died.

The tutor’s death remonstrance still couldn’t stop Princess Bao’an’s imperial brother—Crown Prince Zhao, currently regent—from tremblingly dropping his vermillion seal.

Intelligence from the front arrived: The Emperor of Chu and Princess Changping, who had gone to supervise the battle, had both been captured by Northern Rong.

The Northern Rong khan shouted before the battle lines, specifically demanding the youngest seventeenth princess marry him before he’d release the emperor. A mere Princess Bao’an—how could she contend with the greater situation?

When news of the marriage alliance arrived, Yang Fu refused food and fell ill.

Qun Qing urged her to eat. Yang Fu’s eyes were hopeless as she pushed her arm away: “Go home. I like you best, so I won’t make you accompany me to Northern Rong as part of my dowry. Better I die soon, then I won’t have to marry that sixty-year-old decrepit old man…” Before finishing, she cried.

Qun Qing didn’t leave. She searched through almanacs in the palace for two days and nights. Finally, before the marriage alliance edict was proclaimed to the world, she obtained a countermeasure. She strapped on a sword, clutched the almanac, and galloped on horseback.

The memory of breaking into the palace gates at night was like a frozen dream.

She only remembered vermillion doors opening one by one before her, countless torches flickering past, astonished faces flashing by. Finally, Crown Prince Zhao in his regent’s dragon robe frowned: “What did you say? Before Imperial Elder Sister went north, she sent a letter to Prince Consort Ling Yun?”

“Exactly so.” Qun Qing hastily produced the letter. “This servant’s mother was once Eldest Princess’s clothing maid. The Eldest Princess passed a secret letter to my mother. This is what I found at home: Before departing, Princess Changping sent word for Prince Consort Ling Yun to bring people rushing north as a precaution. General Ling Yun agreed and also called on Huaiyuan Regional Commander Li Feng to bring his troops south simultaneously. Both armies are already on the road. Calculating the time, they can rescue His Majesty immediately!”

From excitement, Crown Prince Zhao’s lips trembled.

Qun Qing said: “Seventeenth Princess’s beauty is renowned throughout the world. Northern Rong people demanding the Princess as concubine before battle lines is deliberately damaging Great Chu’s dignity. If Your Highness truly sends the Princess there, you’re offering your face for others to strike. What would the people of the world think?”

“How could this solitary one not know shame? Bao’an is this solitary one’s sister—what elder brother would happily send his own sister for a marriage alliance!” Crown Prince Zhao said excitedly. “But, but Father Emperor and Imperial Elder Sister are in their hands! If we renege on the marriage now and the barbarians kill them, what then?”

The fifteen-year-old Qun Qing presented the almanac with trembling hands: “The wedding date is extremely inauspicious, clashing with the nation’s fortune. This servant requests Your Highness change the date and have Princess Bao’an descend to Qingjing Abbey to purify herself for twenty days. As long as the Princess agrees to descend in rank, the Northern Rong people won’t cause trouble. Within these twenty days, General Ling Yun and Regional Commander Li can arrive to rescue His Majesty. Then we won’t need to sacrifice Princess Bao’an or be laughed at by the world!”

Crown Prince Zhao’s imperial seal fell. Qun Qing carried twenty days of hope and galloped back on horseback.

The night was thick as ink. As the horse reached before the hall, Qun Qing saw Yang Fu, who had been lying on the bed barely clinging to life, now standing outside the door holding a lamp, hair disheveled, waiting for her.

The lantern’s faint light shone downward on Princess Bao’an’s thin sleeping robe and bare feet on the blue bricks, and upward on her tear-filled eyes.

Qun Qing jumped down from the horse and said softly: “Princess, you don’t need to go for the marriage alliance.”

“Qingqing!” Yang Fu’s tears gushed forth. She rushed over to embrace her, weeping tears of joy.

…

The memories slid through her mind. Qun Qing’s lips slowly curved upward, then fell.

After presenting her strategy, Qun Qing brought Yang Fu and several palace attendants to Qingjing Abbey for purification.

No one expected that the two loyal ministers who went to rescue the emperor would become new hyenas. They mutinied on the road, holding the emperor and eldest princess hostage while attacking southward, unstoppable. The nineteen-year-old Crown Prince Zhao received advance warning and hastily fled south with all the palace consorts, not even putting his shoes on properly.

The two young women were forgotten in the remote Qingjing Abbey. By the time they learned the news, Daming Palace had already fallen into the control of the Li and Ling Yun families.

Hiding in Qingjing Abbey, the two avoided the slaughter on the day of the palace’s fall, but didn’t avoid Li Huan galloping in, nor his delusional obsession with Princess Bao’an.

Qun Qing’s first life was lost in the abbey.

The more clearly Qun Qing remembered the loves and hatreds of youth, the more what happened at the very end of her previous life stuck in her heart, impossible to resolve.

What could be confirmed was that Yang Fu was a princess, while she was only a maid. There were many servants who died for princesses—in a noble mistress’s eyes, it was somewhat natural. Qun Qing had never been special.

Princess Bao’an said she was special because the Princess was like a vine that needed to attach to someone. This person used to be her, but times changed—it could become the more powerful Li Huan.

Even across a sea of blood and deep enmity, across her, Princess Bao’an could still fall in love with him.

…

Qun Qing followed Matron Zhang through the infinitely familiar door, sweeping past the resentful gaze of Baoshu kneeling at the entrance, and stepped into Princess Bao’an’s sleeping hall.

Luanyi Pavilion was packed with people.

There were three main seats. The Princess Consort of Yan had temporarily left, leaving the middle position empty. To the right of the empty seat, a fourteen or fifteen-year-old dark and thin lady in green robes had one leg propped high on the circular chair’s armrest, her jacket and skirt blooming like a fan, exposing her embroidered shoes: “Sister Princess Consort’s bladder is too small, isn’t it? How many times has she gone to relieve herself this morning?”

Her clothing maid moved her leg, urging her to put her foot down—this posture was too vulgar after all.

“Won’t put it down. Why should some princess from the former dynasty put on airs while I,堂堂 Crown Prince’s good lady, can’t relax a bit?” This green-robed young woman was precisely Crown Prince Li Xuan’s principal wife brought from the northern territories, Zheng Zhiyi.

Qun Qing’s gaze lingered on Zheng Zhiyi’s face for a moment.

Zheng Zhiyi—her previous life’s vanquished opponent. In her previous life after entering the palace, the Princess told her she wanted the Crown Princess position. But the Crown Prince was already married, with an original wife titled good lady called Zheng Zhiyi. It was Qun Qing who personally seized Zheng Zhiyi’s opportunities and offered them up with both hands.

To the left of the empty seat was Princess Bao’an.

No matter how gorgeous the clothing and adornments, they couldn’t restore Yang Fu’s former spirit. She held a cat, her expression gloomy. Any vocabulary related to the kingdom’s fall would irritate her, yet Zheng Zhiyi deliberately wanted to embarrass her.

Suddenly, that snow-white cat began calling out.

Matron Zhang pushed Qun Qing forward: “Your Highness has waited long—the last palace maid has been brought!”

Brief silence fell over the room, broken only by the cat’s thin cries.

Qun Qing knew the Princess was identifying her features.

She could almost feel that joy, excitement, and grievance surging toward her like waves. In her previous life at this moment, they should both have been very excited.

Yang Fu reached out her hand, but because she had to pretend not to know her, hid her trembling hand in her sleeve: “Matron Zhang, she… have her serve in my palace!”

Matron Zhang had just opened the registry when Zheng Zhiyi deliberately interrupted: “She already has three servants—why should she get another one?”

“Honored ladies, four palace maids also conforms to palace regulations.” Matron Zhang said.

“Then why does this palace, dignified Crown Prince’s good lady, have only three?”

Matron Zhang: “If the good lady wishes, she may, may also have another one…”

“Then this palace wants another one.” Zheng Zhiyi suddenly pointed at Qun Qing. “I also want her.”

As her words fell, Princess Bao’an, previously like a sick cat, became agitated: “The Crown Prince said this palace’s rank equals Great Chen princesses. Why listen to that irrelevant person’s nonsense? Write it down for me.”

Matron Zhang’s brush tip hesitated in the air. Qun Qing suddenly spoke: “This servant is unwilling to serve Princess Bao’an.”

Her voice was clear and resolute. In an instant, the hall fell silent as if frozen in ice. No one could imagine that a palace maid from the Palace Service Bureau with the lowest status would dare say such words to a noble mistress.

Matron Zhang was stunned: “What are you saying?”

Qun Qing raised her eyes, gazing calmly at Yang Fu, and repeated: “This servant is unwilling to serve Princess Bao’an.”

For this ray of light, she had devoted half her life to Yang Fu. Now, with ten years of feelings severed, the time had come to part ways.