The Millennial Autumn Hall of the Palace of Ten Thousand Years was a scene of austere grandeur. Ceremonial music filled the hall; on the great stepped terrace and within the main hall were the seats of princes, imperial relatives, and officials of the second rank and above. Along the hall’s outer corridors and central passageway were the seats of foreign envoys and officials from the second rank down to the fourth. The commoner elders had their places in the broad plaza below the steps outside the main hall. The seats of the empress and all noblewomen below her rank were set in the side hall, Cihui Hall.
The Jiang Empress Dowager was seated in the place of honor. When the auspicious hour arrived, the Emperor led the princes, imperial sons, grandsons, and great-grandsons, while the Empress led the consorts, princesses, and noblewomen of Cihui Hall in a united bow of congratulations to the Grand Empress Dowager on her seventy-year birthday celebration. Above the four great gates of the outer towers — the Azure Dragon, Black Tortoise, Vermillion Bird, and White Tiger — fireworks burst and bloomed, a spectacle of prosperous, festive joy.
The Jiang Empress Dowager, who had not made a formal public appearance in many years, was today full of energy and all smiles. After receiving the grouped obeisances in successive rounds, the birthday banquet was opened. During the feast, she received several old ministers who had served through multiple reigns and commoners above ninety years of age in special private audience, bestowing wine upon each in turn. Among the foreign envoys accorded this honor were the emissary of the Western Di people and a small prince, Li Siye, of the Que Kingdom. Each who came before the Jiang Empress Dowager for private audience and a personal exchange of words felt deeply honored. Li Siye especially, upon hearing the Jiang Empress Dowager open with an inquiry after his father the King of Que, asking, ‘It has been so many years — does the old King of Que still have a good appetite?’ was moved to hot tears and prostrated himself at length.
Among the imperial grandsons aside from the Emperor himself, Prince of Qin Li Xuandu held the highest seniority. According to the pre-arranged protocol, after the Grand Empress Dowager had completed her private audiences, Li Xuandu would lead the Crown Prince, Prince Liu, Prince Chen, and the other imperial great-grandsons on her behalf to toast the inner and outer guests and bestow birthday staffs, good-fortune ornaments, silks, and brocades as gifts.
Li Xuandu took advantage of this intermission to retire to the rear hall to change his attire, putting on the ceremonial robes of a prince in order to proceed with the toasting.
Two palace maids attended the changing of his robes. He put on his crown and slipped into his outer robe; the palace maids were helping him fasten the complex sash when someone suddenly darted in from behind.
Without turning his head, Li Xuandu knew who it was: ‘Why aren’t you eating and coming here instead?’
Huaiwei was today a singular presence transcending rank and seniority, occupying a position of unconstrained distinction, and had remained close at the Jiang Empress Dowager’s side since entering Millennial Autumn Hall. With the evening’s banquet featuring the finest delicacies, it was indeed extraordinary that someone who loved food as he did should have slipped away mid-feast.
Huaiwei darted to stand before him, looking up in indignation: ‘Fourth Brother, Princess Ningshou has gone too far! Earlier, at the palace gate when we were getting out of the carriage, she ordered Elder Sister Pu to go first, then when Elder Sister Pu went to step down, she actually pushed her! Fortunately Elder Sister Pu dodged, and it was Ningshou herself who nearly lost her footing — if Elder Sister Pu hadn’t pulled her back, she would have fallen down! If you ask me, why did Elder Sister Pu bother pulling her? If it were me, not only would I not pull her, I would have given her a kick! I’m so furious — I went to confront her just now and she had the nerve to say I was talking nonsense and making things up! You have to stand up for Elder Sister Pu!’
Li Xuandu waved a hand and dismissed the palace maids, then lowered his head himself and fastened the jade belt hook inlaid with precious stones from Khotan at his waist. His voice was cold: ‘Each person has their proper station. Why did you first exceed protocol by having her board your carriage? Today she escaped severe embarrassment — she had some judgment after all, and was fortunate. But had she truly fallen, one of those responsible for injuring her would have been you. Go reflect on your own faults first!’ With that he raised his arms to adjust his crown and, leaving Huaiwei standing there open-mouthed, turned and walked away.
Inside Millennial Autumn Hall there was a joyous commotion; in the side hall as well, all was festive delight.
Pu Zhu, accompanying the now prominent wife of Guo Lang, was seated at a banquet near the Empress Dowager Chen, sharing a table with the elderly Dowager Consorts of former reigns. While she listened to Guo Lang’s wife and the elderly Dowager Consorts exchange pleasantries, answering when she was addressed, she kept her attention on the Princess Imperial.
The Princess Imperial was seated near the Empress Dowager Chen, and clearly had other things on her mind that evening. In the midst of conversation and laughter, she repeatedly glanced back, peering toward the side door of the hall, as if awaiting someone.
Pu Zhu had already scanned the entire hall — Chen Huiyuan was nowhere to be seen tonight.
Though she felt some sympathy for this girl, who was said to have later been confined by the Chen family and then hurriedly married off, it went no further than that.
Every person had their own fate, and every outcome had its cause. It was just as with her previous life — the reason she had not met a good end was that her eyes had been fixed on that small corner of the inner palace, not knowing that even if the inner palace were secured, a fire breaking out outside would still reduce it all to nothing.
In this life, though she knew something of the future fates and trajectories of certain people, she could not possibly go about rescuing every one of them.
Besides, this was directly bound up with her own future destiny.
Just as she was lost in slight reverie, an elderly palace attendant came from the Empress Dowager Chen’s side and asked her to come over, saying the Empress Dowager had words for her.
The last time she had been summoned to the palace, the Empress Dowager Chen had happened to be suffering from a chill and unable to receive visitors, so there had been no audience at that time.
Pu Zhu went over and made her obeisance according to proper etiquette.
The Empress Dowager Chen was not yet sixty years old, plump and white-complexioned, appearing kind and benevolent. Perhaps because of her weight she had weak health; speaking a few sentences left her needing to catch her breath, and her vitality was far less than the Grand Empress Dowager who was already seventy. She called Pu Zhu before her and amiably asked after her circumstances since arriving in the capital, offered a few words of praise, bestowed gifts upon her, and invited her to come to the palace for conversation more often in the future.
Pu Zhu agreed to each point in turn, gave her thanks and withdrew, returning to her seat.
‘The Empress Dowager clearly seems quite pleased with you. Take every opportunity to present yourself. If you win the Empress Dowager’s favor in the future, it will be of great benefit to you,’ Guo Lang’s wife murmured to her.
Naturally Guo Lang’s wife hoped she would cultivate a relationship with the Empress Dowager Chen. After all, the Grand Empress Dowager rarely saw people on normal days, and there was little chance to pay respects to her. What remained was to pay respects to the Empress Dowager Chen.
As it happened, in her previous life as well, things had indeed been as Guo Lang’s wife described. After she had become Crown Princess, the Empress Dowager Chen, perhaps transferring her affection for her grandson Li Chengyu onto the girl, had actually treated her quite well.
Just as she was about to respond, she suddenly caught sight of a palace attendant slipping in through the side door, making his way toward the Princess Imperial.
There were many such palace attendants coming and going in the hall waiting upon the guests, and no one paid particular attention to him.
He reached the Princess Imperial’s side, bent down, and said something low. The Princess Imperial’s eyes brightened and a pleased expression came over her face; she then immediately fixed her gaze on the Empress Shangguan across from her, a hint of triumph in her look.
Pu Zhu’s heart gave a slight jump.
If her guess was right, this must be the news that Chen Huiyuan’s scandal had come to light!
She paid even closer attention.
Sure enough, before long — no one could tell where it had started — word was spreading throughout the entire hall. Guo Lang’s wife and several of the elderly Dowager Consorts nearby were sharing what they had just heard: tonight, with the whole city lit up as at the Lantern Festival, the Chen family daughter had taken the opportunity to secretly meet with a guardsman from her household in the east of the city and had even had the audacity, in a dim alley, to do that kind of thing. It was also her ill luck — she was discovered by soldiers of the Southern Bureau who happened to be patrolling at night and caught in the act on the spot.
The laws of the dynasty had no provision against illicit trysts, and there was no talk of drowning anyone in a pig basket, but the unfortunate thing was that among the soldiers, one happened to recognize the Chen family’s daughter, and news spread rapidly. How it had traveled so quickly all the way here, no one could say.
Gan Shi, wife of Chen Zhude, who was seated elsewhere, cycled through green and red in the face, then bowed her head and hastily departed. Before long, Pu Zhu saw the Princess Imperial come to the Empress Dowager Chen’s side and murmur something in her ear, looking all the while as though she pitied and lamented the situation.
The Empress Dowager Chen, upon hearing it, seemed to feel somewhat unwell; the Princess Imperial grew frantic at once, hurriedly calling people over to help her and support the Empress Dowager out first to rest. The Empress Shangguan was the last to remain, looking rather put out.
The figure at the center of attention swiftly shifted, and Madam Yao, wife of the Marquis Yao, immediately became the focus of all eyes.
In front of the Empress Shangguan she dared not laugh aloud, but it was evident she was in high spirits.
Now, with the Chen family’s daughter having come to grief exactly as Pu Zhu had foreseen and withdrawing from the contest for Crown Princess, if Li Xuandu were to fulfill his promise and, tomorrow, help her spirit Han Chijiao away and keep him hidden, then next would come the Shangguan faction’s attack on the Yao family, followed by…
Pu Zhu suddenly felt her spirits lift, her mind sharp and clear.
Everything was within her control — this feeling was truly wonderful.
She absolutely loved this feeling!
Those who had bad luck tonight were, after all, a small minority, and it was impossible for them to affect the Grand Empress Dowager’s grand birthday celebration.
The sky had grown completely dark, and the grand climax of the evening had finally arrived.
The Grand Empress Dowager emerged from Millennial Autumn Hall, made her way to the south plaza of the Palace of Ten Thousand Years, and ascended the Vermillion Bird Gate tower to look down from above.
At the middle of the Hour of the Dog, the Five Phoenix Treasure Lantern Tower at the center of the plaza was to be lit.
A thousand master craftsmen had worked for two months to complete this lantern tower, upon which ten thousand lanterns were suspended — to match the number ten thousand of the celebration of ten thousand years of life.
The tower was shaped like a pagoda, rising thirty zhang high, and from bottom to top, five giant phoenixes fashioned from interconnected colored lanterns spiraled around it. When the hour arrived, five master craftsmen, each stationed at their post, obeyed the signal and simultaneously ignited the pilot lamps at the tower’s base. Lamp oil flowed freely through hidden channels, carrying flame upward in winding trails, radiating out in all directions. Five lamps lit ten, ten lit a hundred — in an instant, from bottom to top, all ten thousand colored lanterns on the entire tower lit one after another.
In the darkness of night, five phoenixes spread their wings as if in flight, each in a different pose, arching toward the tower’s pinnacle. Ten thousand lamps reflected one another, jewel-light blazing and dazzling, their splendor so brilliant that even the starry sky seemed to dim by comparison.
Nearly ten thousand people in the plaza witnessed this near-miraculous spectacle, and after a brief stunned silence, voices rose all around in a unified chorus of congratulations to the Grand Empress Dowager, wishing her ten thousand years of life.
Though she had witnessed this scene in her previous life as well, experiencing it again — perhaps because her state of mind was different — Pu Zhu’s feelings were entirely unlike what she had felt then.
In her previous life, she had been dazzled and overwhelmed by this miraculous, magnificent spectacle.
In this life, at this moment, beyond being dazzled and overwhelmed, she felt, above all, a surging tide of feeling and blood coursing hot through her veins.
She could not imagine — if one day she truly realized her dream and stood in the very place where the Grand Empress Dowager Jiang now stood — what feelings she would have.
She could not help but steal a glance at the Jiang Empress Dowager, who in her mind was an all-capable and flawless figure like the Queen Mother of the West.
She saw Huaiwei at the Jiang Empress Dowager’s feet, leaping with delight at what he was seeing. The Jiang Empress Dowager bowed her head and, with fond tenderness, lightly stroked his hair, then raised her eyes to gaze at the great lantern tower soaring before her. At the corner of her lips rested a faint smile, but for reasons Pu Zhu could not fathom, she could find in the Empress Dowager’s gaze none of what she had expected to find there — no excitement, no pride.
What Pu Zhu sensed was only a detachment, as if looking from afar, and a desolation that she could not understand.
Surely she had seen wrong!
She refused to accept it, and concentrated her gaze again.
The Jiang Empress Dowager seemed to sense something and suddenly turned her eyes, sweeping a glance toward Pu Zhu.
It was only a mild, fleeting glance, the gaze not even particularly sharp, yet Pu Zhu had the feeling that the Empress Dowager truly was looking at her — looking at her specifically, among so many people!
She felt that the Empress Dowager had sensed her watching.
Pu Zhu’s heart pounded wildly; a terror seized her, as though her innermost secret had been seen through. She quickly lowered her head and eyes, not daring the least further presumption.
After a long while, she slowly breathed out the breath she had been holding and raised her eyes again. The Jiang Empress Dowager had already returned to her seat and was talking and smiling with the Emperor who waited upon her, her manner gentle and kind. That turn of the eyes just now — it must have been Pu Zhu’s imagination.
After the lantern tower was lit, the various prefectures and ministers and envoys began to present their birthday tributes in turn. Jade ornaments for ten thousand years of life, court robes, hairpins and ornaments, offering vessels from before the Buddha, jade objects and precious stones — an abundance of everything one could wish for. This was followed by a variety of entertainments, all excitement and splendor.
Pu Zhu dared not look at the Jiang Empress Dowager again, but soon discovered that she herself had become the object of someone else’s gaze.
She was positioned to the left of the Jiang Empress Dowager, not far away; across from her, Han Chijiao — as the grand-nephew of the Jiang Empress Dowager — was also nearby. This heir of the Princess Imperial’s mansion seemed from the moment she had taken her place here to have his eyes rooted in her, looking at her without pause.
Pu Zhu felt thoroughly disgusted inside and couldn’t help seeking out that one figure.
Li Xuandu was also near the Jiang Empress Dowager — he was quite conspicuous — and Pu Zhu quickly found him.
He was at that moment wearing a prince’s crown and fine jade-belted ceremonial robes, looking supremely distinguished.
Pu Zhu glanced over a few times, hoping he might return some look of acknowledgment — some assurance that tomorrow he would, as promised, help her deal with the other person.
But Li Xuandu showed no reaction whatsoever.
She looked toward him; his two eyes remained fixed on the entertainments before the lantern tower, as if watching with total absorption.
Pu Zhu could only give up, consoling herself inwardly: since he had agreed, he would certainly do it; he would not toy with her.
At that moment, a procession was led by the herald official through the gate tower, emerging before the lantern tower and bowing toward the Jiang Empress Dowager on her gate tower, calling out congratulatory greetings in a loud voice.
This was the delegation from the Hejun Kingdom of the Western Regions.
Pu Zhu understood languages and, without need of a translator, knew what they were saying.
The official envoy said that their king, to express gratitude for the court’s help the previous year in driving away the neighboring kingdom that had come to invade, had specially brought from Daqin far to the west a new kind of illusion performance, and that at the end of the performance, a warrior would shoot down a hundred-treasure casket from atop a tree as a tribute to the Grand Empress Dowager, wishing her ten thousand years of life.
Among the Western Regions there were kingdoms that produced all manner of skilled performers of illusory arts — people who could swallow swords and breathe fire, or plant seeds and make trees grow instantly. In the southern market of the capital, there was no shortage of such street performers.
Huaiwei clapped with delight; even the Jiang Empress Dowager showed some interest, and commanded the performance to proceed. Several yellow-haired, curly-bearded foreigners took the stage, and after a shroud of cloud and mist, a giant flounder appeared from within, shaking its head and swishing its tail, lifelike in every detail. In a moment it transformed into a long dragon, which circled the lantern tower once and then suddenly reared upright on the ground, transforming again into a tree. The tree grew before the wind, quickly rising to match the height of the lantern tower. And at this moment, atop the tree appeared a casket.
This was the precious casket to celebrate the Jiang Empress Dowager’s birthday. Once shot down, it would be presented to her.
A foreign warrior came to stand beneath the tree, drew his bow and nocked an arrow, aiming at the casket atop the tree.
Pu Zhu knew what would happen next.
Perhaps the night wind was too strong, or the pole too high, or perhaps the warrior grew nervous under so many watching eyes — his first attempt and his second both failed to bring down the casket.
It would take the third arrow to hit.
Pu Zhu remembered that at the time, the Hejun Kingdom envoys had apologized in embarrassment, and the warrior had been filled with shame. Fortunately, the Jiang Empress Dowager had not only refrained from reproach but had commanded that wine be bestowed upon the warrior, and thus the awkward moment had been smoothed over.
Sure enough, just as she knew it would be — the first arrow, the warrior shot wide.
The entire plaza fell silent.
The envoys grew uneasy. The whole final design of the performance had been intended to display the warrior’s superb archery before the assembled crowd. Not expecting him to miss, they had not anticipated this.
The warrior grew nervous as well; he hesitated for a moment over the second arrow before releasing it.
This time too, it failed to bring down the casket. The arrow just barely grazed past the casket.
The scene became deeply awkward. With ten thousand people present, not a sound could be heard.
Sweat rolled in streams from the warrior’s forehead.
He steadied his nerves, raised his bow a third time, aimed, held his breath, and was about to release — when suddenly an unexpected development occurred.
An arrow with white-feathered fletchings had already left its string and was hurtling through the air toward the casket atop the tree. In an instant it arrived, striking squarely in the heart of the casket, without the slightest deviation.
The casket fell from the treetop. At that exact same moment, the illusion before everyone’s eyes completely vanished — looking again, there was nothing in the clearing but a long pole, a stretch of blue curtain, and nothing more.
The precious casket fell and was caught steadily by someone waiting below the pole.
The one who had replaced the Hejun Kingdom warrior in shooting down the precious casket was none other than Crown Prince Li Chengyu of the present dynasty.
He handed back the bow and arrow to a guard beside him, then gestured to the person who had caught the casket to go forward and present it.
That person came to his senses, quickly made his way toward the gate tower, holding the casket high above his head with both hands, wishing the Grand Empress Dowager ten thousand years of life.
From around the Vermillion Bird Gate, a thunderous roar of cheering voices erupted.
Everyone cheered at the top of their voices for this perfectly timed, precise shot with which the Crown Prince had stepped forward to resolve the situation. Even the Hejun Kingdom envoys came forward awkwardly to bow their thanks to him.
The warrior was filled with shame, knelt, bowed deeply toward the gate tower in apology, and withdrew with his head low.
Li Chengyu’s lips bore a slight smile, and in the midst of all those gazes focused solely upon him — boundless glory — he could not help but turn his own gaze toward the young woman of the Pu family who was always in his thoughts and impossible to forget.
Pu Zhu knew he was looking at her, yet gave him no return of gaze.
She lowered her eyes and quietly shifted a step back, hoping the noblewomen in front would screen her from view, so that no one would notice the Crown Prince looking at her.
With the position of Crown Princess seemingly beckoning just ahead yet still not settled, she had not the least desire to draw such attention to herself.
Li Xuandu followed his nephew’s gaze and swept a glance over, and caught sight of that figure shrinking behind others.
He withdrew his gaze. His expression was cold and detached.
…
No further mishaps occurred that night.
The celebration at the Palace of Ten Thousand Years came to an end, but the festivities throughout the city continued, and the flower lanterns were to remain lit for three nights.
That night, Pu Zhu did not sleep well, and the next morning she rose early, eager to hear news that Han Chijiao had been ‘hidden away.’
Guo Lang’s wife, with her now prominent standing in the capital, received all manner of gossip and intelligence, verified or not, as soon as it emerged.
But throughout this day, no such news came.
Madam Yan only briefly mentioned the aftermath of the Chen family’s scandal from the previous night, saying that Chen Zhude’s wife had claimed illness today and barred her doors, and began saying favorable things about the Princess Imperial’s mansion in Pu Zhu’s presence.
Pu Zhu maintained a calm outward appearance while feeling a growing anxiety inside. She consoled herself that the person must have already gone missing and that the Princess Imperial’s mansion was simply suppressing the news and privately searching.
But her hopes were dashed.
She waited another whole night. On the third day, she feigned an errand to go out and buy ancient texts, and made her way to Chengfu Lane in the north of the imperial city — that area, besides having shops selling antiques and rare books, was home to the residences of many of the capital’s powerful nobles. The Princess Imperial’s mansion was there.
She intended to feel out the situation at the Princess Imperial’s mansion. She had not expected that before she even reached the mansion, right there on the street, she ran into Han Chijiao himself. He was dressed in fine attire, seated atop a horse, with household servants attending before and behind him, looking about him with great self-satisfaction.
Pu Zhu’s heart went cold in an instant — she had suffered an enormous blow. She hastily pulled down the face-concealing veil hanging from her hat, turned away, and waited for Han Chijiao to pass. Any inclination to browse the bookshops was gone; she summoned her attendant and hurried back to the Guo household.
Li Xuandu had truly toyed with her! He had never helped her at all!
Though strictly speaking this was not quite accurate either — thinking back on their encounter that day, from beginning to end, he had never once actually said in clear terms that he agreed to help. All he had said was one sentence telling her to stay quietly at home. That was all.
It was simply that she had mistaken his attitude for agreement.
Pu Zhu was filled with self-reproach, simultaneously cursing herself in her heart for being foolish enough to believe that man, and immediately made up her mind to take a risk.
If she judged correctly, these few days were precisely the critical moment that would determine whether she could secure the position of Crown Princess. Thinking of how Guo Lang’s wife had been deliberately or inadvertently saying favorable things about the Princess Imperial in her presence these past two days, the warning alarm in her heart grew ever more urgent.
What if the Princess Imperial still had her original plan in mind? Who knew whether, when Pu Zhu was put forward as a candidate for Crown Princess, she might obstruct things from within?
She absolutely could not take that risk.
Pu Zhu knew there were people in the capital who specialized in doing all manner of disreputable tasks for others. This was something she had come to know in her previous life from the lips of her own trusted confidants. Such people were known as ‘the Hundred Blades.’ They took money and solved problems for people, strictly observed their trade rules, and among the most renowned of the Hundred Blades, their base of operations was a small inn in the southern market called Wanfu. The Hundred Blades asked no questions about who their clients were, and no questions about reasons. As long as the price was right, they would accept any job — let alone one that involved no harm to human life.
Though the person she wanted to make disappear for a few days was of high and noble status, as long as enough money was offered, they should accept.
As a matter of fact, when she had first hit upon this solution a few days earlier, the very first image to arise in her mind had been that of Cui Xuan. If she asked him to help, he would certainly do so, and what’s more, Pu Zhu believed he would carry it out very well. But she had quickly dismissed the idea.
First, the distance was too great — distant water could not extinguish a nearby fire. Second, she had no desire to involve Cui Xuan in her affairs. She had a genuine fondness for that young man and hoped he would go on living his life in He Xi according to the natural pace his life was meant to take.
So at the time, she had thought of going to Li Xuandu, using his capabilities to help her accomplish this thing.
And now, it was clear that Li Xuandu could not be counted on.
She had been in the capital only a few days and had not yet established herself at all; trusted confidants she could dispatch for tasks — she had not a single one. Even if going to the Hundred Blades carried potential risks, she had no other choice.
Fortunately, over these past days she had received many gifts and rewards. Converted to money, the sum was truly substantial. Setting aside anything bearing the palace’s mark, Pu Zhu bundled together all the valuables and gold ingots, wrapped them in a bundle, and anxiously waited for dark before going to find Guo Lang’s wife, saying she wanted to go out again to browse the night market and see the lanterns.
Tonight was the last night of the three-day Millennial Autumn Festival celebration. Nearly half the city’s population had spilled out into the streets for entertainment.
Guo Lang’s wife was a little displeased by her frequent outings over the past few days — her own granddaughter was quiet and well-behaved, never one to join this kind of commotion. Especially after the affair of the Chen family’s daughter, she was even more eager for Pu Zhu to stay home like her granddaughter and avoid going out unnecessarily.
But since Pu Zhu asked, and she was not truly one of her own family after all, there was no good way to refuse. In the end she reluctantly agreed, arranging for someone to accompany her and telling her to return early and not stay out too late.
Pu Zhu dressed in men’s clothing, and under Guo Lang’s wife’s not entirely approving gaze, left the Guo household, and once outside made straight for the bustling southern market. Upon arriving, she drew near to the Wanfu Inn, told the Guo family attendants to wait at the roadside, and carrying her bundle, walked to the door of the inn, looked inside, steeled herself, and was just about to enter when suddenly a voice came from behind her: ‘Young Lady!’
Ye Xiao?
Pu Zhu quickly turned around — and sure enough, she saw Ye Xiao standing behind her.
Ye Xiao walked quickly to stand before her and said in a low voice: ‘My master sends word — the matter was resolved three days ago.’
He was well acquainted with the background of this inn. In cases where he had matters inconvenient to handle himself, he would also engage such people to do the work.
He looked at the young woman of the Pu family and pressed down the astonishment in his heart.
‘If there is nothing else, Young Lady had best return home as soon as possible.’
That night, after returning home, Pu Zhu was once again sleepless, her mood deeply dispirited.
Clearly, judging from Ye Xiao’s words, Li Xuandu had not adopted her method but had used some other means she knew nothing of to dissuade the Princess Imperial from the idea.
That was perfectly fine in itself.
But what she could not understand was — Li Xuandu clearly knew how anxious she was, a fire-burning urgency kind of anxious. Since he had already resolved the matter three days ago, why had he taken his time and only had Ye Xiao come to tell her tonight?
Could it be that he had agreed at the time and then regretted it afterward, only going through with it out of obligation, but feeling displeased in his heart, and had deliberately toyed with her — letting her suffer a few days of torment so that he could feel satisfied?
Though she was completely relieved now, the gratitude she had felt a moment ago had entirely evaporated.
Never mind — he was a man she could not keep around in the future anyway. For now, she would use him while she could; he was nothing more than a reasonably useful tool.
This was actually for the best — at least she need not feel she owed him any favor in the future, and would not be hampered in her actions. How much more satisfying!
…
That night Pu Zhu’s heart alternated between utter despondency and excited anticipation for the future taking shape before her, and she could not fall asleep for a long time.
She did not know that Crown Prince Li Chengyu’s mood that night was also unusually excited, and he, too, lay awake the whole night.
For Li Chengyu, these past few days had brought good thing after good thing.
First came the night of the Millennial Autumn Festival, when he had seen the foreign warrior miss twice in succession and had been unable to suppress the impulse to step forward on the warrior’s behalf with one arrow that shot down the hundred-treasure casket, winning all the glory. Then came news that the Chen family daughter, who had seemed very likely to be made Crown Princess, had suffered a mishap. On top of all that, just this very evening, he had learned of yet another piece of news: a minister had memorialized the throne recommending the granddaughter of Pu Youzhi as Crown Princess.
Everything was progressing so smoothly! It was as if Heaven knew his desires and was helping him fulfill them step by step.
He could not sleep at all, and tossed and turned through the night. The next morning he went early to Jishang Palace. His purpose was, besides visiting his grandmother the Empress Dowager Chen who had been feeling unwell following the Chen family’s scandal, to also sound out the Empress Dowager’s attitude and hope that she would put in a word to the Emperor on behalf of the Pu family’s granddaughter.
After all, the Empress Dowager’s first choice, Chen Zhude’s daughter, had now been entirely ruled out — the hope of gaining the Empress Dowager’s support for the Pu family’s granddaughter was therefore very great.
Li Chengyu arrived at Jishang Palace and was told at the entrance to the Empress Dowager’s chambers that, early that morning, Princess Ningshou and his aunt, the Princess Imperial, had both arrived one after another and were inside visiting the Empress Dowager.
Li Chengyu hastily went in. Just as he was approaching the bedchamber, he suddenly heard his younger sister Li Qiongyao’s voice drifting out from within, seeming to mention the Pu family’s granddaughter. He signaled the palace attendants to stop and make no announcement, and himself stopped in his tracks.
What he heard, he could not help but send him into a blazing fury.
Li Qiongyao was actually speaking ill of the Pu family’s granddaughter before the Empress Dowager first thing in the morning — saying that on the day of the Millennial Autumn birthday, Pu Zhu had overstepped protocol by boarding her carriage, showed no breeding whatsoever, had ignored her entirely throughout the journey, and then when getting off the carriage had actually rushed to get off before her, nearly causing her to fall from the purple carriage in humiliation.
‘Imperial Grandmother, just think — how could someone like that be my Imperial Brother’s Crown Princess…’
The Empress Dowager Chen frowned: ‘The other evening I saw her and thought she seemed quite good — knowledgeable and well-mannered. Can she really be as you say?’
The Princess Imperial sat to one side, smiling as she listened, not saying a word.
Li Qiongyao dabbed at her tears, just about to continue, when suddenly footsteps sounded behind her. Before she could react, Li Chengyu barged in and dragged her by the arm out of the bedchamber, pulling her to a deserted corner outside, and let go of her.
Li Chengyu had always treated her very well; Li Qiongyao was somewhat taken aback, and rubbed the wrist that ached from his grip: ‘Imperial Brother, what are you doing? You nearly twisted my arm off!’
‘What were you just saying? How could she be that kind of person? How has she offended you, that you would run to Imperial Grandmother early in the morning to spread slander? I’m warning you — if you dare say one more word against her, I’ll deal with you!’
The Crown Prince, her elder brother, seemed to have suddenly become a different person, furious and thundering at her.
Li Qiongyao was stunned, staring blankly for a moment at this brother who suddenly seemed unrecognizable, before she came to her senses and stamped her foot: ‘Imperial Brother, what has gotten into you? What is she to you? How dare you speak to me this way?’
Li Chengyu said sharply: ‘This is none of your business — stay out of it! I’m warning you again — if I find out you’ve been speaking ill of her, there will be consequences!’
Li Qiongyao shrank back and dared not speak further. She bowed her head and began to weep softly.
Li Chengyu was vexed and irritated. He considered for a moment, swallowed his anger, and tried to coax Li Qiongyao, asking her to immediately follow him back inside and explain to the Empress Dowager that she had been making it all up.
The siblings were talking beneath the eave of the hall’s corner. The Princess Imperial Li Lihua, who had followed them out, heard every word clearly, and could not help but be greatly shocked.
She could never have dreamed in a thousand years that her nephew Li Chengyu would defend the Pu family’s granddaughter in this way — even saying such harsh words to his always-doted-upon younger sister. It was plain that his feelings for the girl ran deep indeed, far beyond mere interest.
How Li Chengyu had come to know and develop affection for the Pu family’s granddaughter was not important, and the Princess Imperial had no interest in knowing.
Last night she had learned of something that greatly displeased her: the Pu family’s granddaughter, whom she had originally fixed her eye on as a wife for her son, had suddenly been put forward by someone and emerged as a new candidate for Crown Princess. This gave her preferred candidate, the Marquis Yao’s daughter, yet another rival.
So she had come to Jishang Palace first thing that morning to ask the Empress Dowager Chen to speak on behalf of the Marquis Yao’s daughter to the Emperor. It just happened that her niece Princess Ningshou was there speaking ill of the Pu family’s granddaughter, which was exactly what she wanted. She had not expected things to suddenly take this turn, and without intending to, she had overheard such a secret.
The Pu family’s granddaughter was very likely to threaten the Marquis Yao’s daughter’s bid for Crown Princess and cause her own scheme to come to nothing — that was one concern. But another, even greater one: if, by some chance — and she said ‘by some chance’ — the position of Crown Princess truly fell to that Pu family girl, her own son would not give up, and with his temperament, who knew whether in some moment of confusion he might commit some act of insubordination? To offend Li Chengyu — the future Emperor — would be a great calamity indeed.
The Princess Imperial recalled that just the previous night her son had been clamoring to go beg the Emperor his uncle to issue a betrothal edict, and broke out in a cold sweat.
The Pu family girl absolutely could not be made Crown Princess!
Not only that — to cut off the problem at its root, the best approach was to remove her from the capital entirely. The farther she went the better, and ideally she would never return.
But how to accomplish this?
The Princess Imperial fell into contemplation, and a figure arose in her mind, as if she had been struck by sudden illumination, all things becoming clear at once.
She thought of Li Xuandu — her Imperial Fourth Brother.
The most fitting person imaginable.