The eighteenth day of the seventh month. A most auspicious day.

In the inner chambers of Jingxin Hall, the late Emperor’s sixth son — Crown Prince of Great Qing, Gu Chengjian — stretched out both arms and allowed Laifu to attend him as he was dressed in the nine-clawed dragon robe befitting his station.

Great Qing held black as its most exalted color, and as it wrapped around him, even the last trace of boyishness seemed to be concealed.

Gu Chengjian caught sight of the twelve-pendant ceremonial crown cradled in Bailin’s hands through the mirror and his gaze went distant for a moment. It was only when Bailin stepped forward that he returned to himself. He turned and took the crown from Bailin’s hands, then walked straight toward the outer hall. Bailin and Laifu exchanged a glance and hurried after him.

In the outer hall stood only a sparse few: the Empress Dowager, the Grand Preceptor, the Prince Regent, and the Grand Preceptor. No others.

Gu Chengjian first bowed to his grandmother, then walked to the Grand Preceptor, who had knelt in greeting, and helped her to her feet. He placed the twelve-pendant ceremonial crown — the symbol of all imperial dignity — into her hands, bowed his head, and said quietly, “I ask the Grand Preceptor to crown her student.”

It was a transgression of protocol. Every person present knew it — and not one of them raised a word.

Hua Zhi, too, was well aware of it. But looking at the young boy before her — his nape bared, the fine down at his temples clearly visible — she did not hesitate long before raising her hands and setting the crown upon his head. As she carefully adjusted it, she spoke the words of admonishment in a low, steady voice:

“A man’s coming-of-age is at twenty — but you could not wait for that day. From this moment on, you are the Son of Heaven, whose word is law and whose will is sovereign. Your fate will be bound inextricably to the fortunes of Great Qing. All the people of Great Qing will look to you for protection. Stand tall.”

She gave him a light pat on the back. “Do not be afraid. You have never walked alone. Go forward boldly — stumbles and falls are no matter, and small wounds must be endured. Your Grand Preceptor believes that the young sixth prince, who became Crown Prince so abruptly and yet was never led astray, will one day bring Great Qing into a golden age and stand as its greatest sovereign.”

Gu Chengjian blinked. The beads hanging from the ceremonial crown concealed the faint reddening at the corners of his eyes. He had been afraid — but now he was not.

“The Grand Preceptor’s words — Xiao Liu’er will not forget them.”

Hua Zhi smiled, and a faint flush of color rose to her gaunt cheeks.

Gu Yanxi glanced at Laifu, who understood at once and stepped forward, speaking softly, “The hour is nearly upon us.”

Gu Chengjian gave a small nod. “The Grand Preceptor is not well. She need only show her face — there is no need for her to remain for what follows.”

Everyone present had witnessed the late Emperor’s own enthronement and knew just how taxing the full ceremony could be. Given Hua Zhi’s current state — so fragile it seemed a gust of wind might knock her over — she could not possibly endure it. The Crown Prince’s consideration was hardly excessive; even if he had not said it, others would have raised it themselves.

As it stood, the feelings of the court officials toward Hua Zhi were complicated indeed. Her brilliance was beyond dispute — but it was precisely because she was so brilliant that she cast all these men in an unflattering light by comparison. Yet she also knew when to step back. Since the events at the palace, she had not shown herself once in public, only rumored to be convalescing in the Empress Dowager’s presence — with word circulating that even Elder Yu’s treatment had seen little progress.

Those officials had half-doubted it — until, hearing a stir, they turned, and there she was: walking in dressed in her court robes. Those robes, tailored to her form, now hung loosely on her frame. Her face looked scarcely larger than a palm.

Zhu Bowen immediately came forward and stopped her from bowing in greeting, asking with concern, “Are you better?”

Hua Zhi nodded to those who turned to look, offering her greetings. “Much better.”

“Today will not be easy. Can you manage?”

“His Highness has given me leave to slip away halfway through.” Hua Zhi touched her left arm absently. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but she kept feeling as though she could not quite draw strength into her left hand. Probably because of the injury… she thought.

The music began. Zhu Bowen could say no more; he lowered his voice to urge her not to push herself, then returned to his place. Hua Zhi and Gu Yanxi likewise returned to their own positions.

The first act of a new emperor’s accession was to offer sacrifice to Heaven. Hua Zhi had only stood for a brief while, and bowed three times along with the others, before Laifu himself came to assist her into the imperial carriage back to the inner palace. She did not refuse the kindness. These days of overexertion had already left her feeling drained beyond her means. It was a small regret that she would not be able to see the moment when ten thousand voices rose in a single cry of “Long live the Emperor” — but there was nothing to be done for it.

Returning to the palace, she found it extraordinarily still by comparison with the Temple of Heaven. The thought of young Xiao Liu’er spending the next several decades confined to this place made her want to sigh. And yet sometimes one truly could not blame emperors for their narrow horizons — cloistered within these few acres, how were they to see any further?

The Kangxi and Qianlong emperors’ repeated journeys south were probably born of the same stifling sensation, Hua Zhi mused to herself, letting her mind wander into all sorts of idle fancies. Perhaps one day she ought to nudge the emperor into making his own southern tour — let him see that the world was not limited to the capital alone.

Then again, Xiao Liu’er had traveled north and south with her before, and spent months in Xiangyang besides — his thinking surely would not be so confined…

“We greet the Empress Dowager.”

The sound of formal salutations pulled Hua Zhi back to herself. She, too, bowed before the most honored and loneliest woman beneath the heavens.

The Empress Dowager waved her up gently. “I could see from a distance that you’d gone still — lost in thought, were you?”

“My concentration has been a little scattered lately.” Hua Zhi shifted the subject. “Your Ladyship is…”

“Just wandering about. This palace — it is far too quiet.”

Indeed it was. Even the maids and eunuchs could only be glimpsed at a distance. Hua Zhi’s heart ached anew for young Xiao Liu’er, who would spend his whole life in a place like this.

Two women with entirely different thoughts walked one behind the other along the covered corridor, until the Empress Dowager said abruptly, “Once your health is restored, you and Yanxi should be wed.”

Hua Zhi was somewhat taken aback. She had always assumed that it was the Empress Dowager who regarded the late Emperor’s posthumous decree most gravely — and indeed, there were times she had demanded that of herself as well. But now…

“Children the same age as Yanxi already have little ones of seven or eight. And yet he has not yet started a family. I know in my heart why — how could I not feel for him.” The Empress Dowager paused, resting against the railing to look at the flowers blooming in cheerful abundance beyond. “And I owe you a debt as well. I believe that even if you were wed, you would not neglect the new Emperor.”

“I ask the Empress Dowager to trust me — I have no ambitions whatsoever.” Hua Zhi likewise gazed at the clusters upon clusters of blossoms. “What I want is nothing more than to live the life of a kept parasite — eating my fill every day with not a single thing to worry about. That is my greatest aspiration.”

The Empress Dowager laughed despite herself. Yes — only someone with no ambitions at all could possess such extraordinary talents and yet live sixteen years entirely beneath notice. Had the Hua Family not fallen into misfortune, who would ever have known that such a Hua Zhi lay concealed within it.

The new emperor’s accession brought a general amnesty — but the Hua Family was not among those pardoned.

At morning court, the new emperor personally read aloud an imperial decree: “Hua Yizheng and his clansmen have rendered distinguished service in defending the frontier. Their official positions are hereby restored in full. All assets seized from the Hua Family are to be returned. So decreed.”

Hua Zhi had not attended court. When she learned of it through Yanxi’s telling, she pressed her hands over her eyes for a long moment. Two years — what she had sought had come to pass. And Xiao Liu’er had brought her family back in the most honorable way possible.

Her home — her home had been returned to her.

Her heart brimming with urgency, Hua Zhi declared, “I want to leave the palace — I want to go home!”

Gu Yanxi knew which home she meant. Without another word, he gathered the attendants and set off for the old residence.

Entering Hua Lin Lane, Hua Zhi could no longer contain herself. She had barely said she wanted to get down from the carriage before she had already jumped out. Seeing that the seals on the main gate had been stripped away, she could barely restrain the urge to throw back her head and cry out to the sky to release the emotion surging within her.

Her home had come back.

And soon, her family would too.