◎ Ascending Clouds ◎

With the Emperor gravely ill, an air of dread hung over the capital. Noble households no longer dared let their sons roam about carousing and enjoying themselves, fearing they might unknowingly offend the palace at any moment.

Because of this, Fanlou had far fewer guests these days.

Ye Liuchun had left the House of Spring Breeze and Rain, and word outside was only that she had left the trade and departed the capital. The Crown Prince was skilled at keeping up appearances—almost no one knew that this brilliant and dazzling Chun Niangzi had actually entered the Crown Prince’s residence as a concubine.

Only the scholars on the ground floor of the hall sighed that they would never again hear such fine moon-lute playing.

As Qu You climbed the stairs, she heard a drunken scholar in the main hall reciting poetry.

“Spring departs with the spring—when will it return? Facing the evening mirror, grieving the flow of time… Paired birds rest on the sand by the darkened pond, clouds part and the moon comes forth, flowers play with their own shadows…”

“Layer upon layer of curtains tightly shield the lamp; the wind does not settle, and people have just grown still. Tomorrow the fallen red blossoms will surely cover the path.”

Fallen red petals chase in disorder after the eastward-flowing water; a single loyal heart dies for its beloved.

She thought—of course they were singing of Ye Liuchun.

The guard led her to the private room on the ground floor. This time she took care to look up—the room reserved for the Crown Prince bore the name of the poetic tune “Ascending Clouds’ Joy.”

What an arrogant name.

Her brow twitched slightly. The guard pushed open the carved wooden door. The Crown Prince sat composed within, holding a five-petaled lotus-shaped gilded wine cup, slowly lifting his eyes.

“Madam Qu, it’s been a long time.”

Qu You stood at the threshold and gave a shallow, perfunctory bow of the knee, but did not step inside. “May Your Highness be at peace. I wonder what guidance Your Highness sought me, your subject’s wife, out for?”

She deliberately stressed the words “subject’s wife”—Song Shiyan would surely not miss the implication.

Sure enough, Song Shiyan narrowed his eyes at her and smiled faintly. “Now that Zhou Tan has entered the palace, he naturally won’t know that you and I have met. Why be so distant?”

Qu You was genuinely curious what the Crown Prince was thinking.

With Zhou Tan inside the palace, instead of worrying over the Emperor’s intentions, he was repeatedly showing her favor instead—what was his goal?

Seizing another man’s wife before he had even ascended the throne?

Setting aside the absurdity of it, what about her could possibly attract the Crown Prince? The capital was full of beautiful women, plenty more than willing to throw themselves at him. Even if the Crown Princess didn’t please him, he had a thousand other choices—why waste effort on her?

Seeing that she still hadn’t moved, Song Shiyan set down his wine cup and changed the subject. “Does Madam Qu know where you and I first met?”

She answered respectfully, “At the East Gate of the Imperial City.”

“Wrong,” Song Shiyan shook his head, pointing at the floor beneath him. “It was here.”

“That day, Liuchun came to Fanlou to play the qin and invited me to listen. I sat for a while, then had urgent matters to attend to and was about to go downstairs and leave when I happened upon that fall from the tower.”

Yan Wuping had deliberately arranged for Ye Liuchun to invite the Crown Prince there. Gu Xianghui had acted in haste—besides seeing Zhou Tan, she had probably also noticed the Crown Prince was about to leave and feared he’d miss it.

“At the time the tower was in chaos. I stood on the platform, ordered the guards to fetch someone from the Bureau of Justice, then looked up—and just then caught a glimpse of a peach-pink figure peering down, her face full of alarm.”

“‘The peach blossom smiles gracefully beyond the fence, seeming half-open, most full of feeling’… At that moment I thought, if I ever saw you again—”

He let his voice trail off, not continuing, but Qu You felt a chill crawl up her spine.

At that chaotic scene of death, with a blood-soaked corpse right at his feet, Song Shiyan had paid it no mind at all, only intent on looking up at the woman who’d caught his interest.

She felt nothing romantic in it—only horror.

“That day at the East Gate, I only thought you looked familiar. It wasn’t until I returned to my residence that I recalled who you were… What a pity. Xiaobai may be charming, but he’s cold-hearted by nature—not a man worth entrusting yourself to.” Song Shiyan looked at her, speaking with apparent regret. “I invited you here today also hoping to make up for that regret, in my own way.”

Qu You slowly lowered the hand that had been resting on the doorframe.

Her mind raced. In Song Shiyan’s eyes, what did he think of her and Zhou Tan’s marriage?

When they’d first married, Zhou Tan had deliberately kept his distance from her for her safety—he had no doubt mentioned this many times in front of Song Shiyan. If he wanted the Crown Prince to believe he wasn’t close to her, that would have been effortless for him; she knew all too well how skilled Zhou Tan was at pretense. Unless one looked very carefully, one would certainly be fooled.

So Song Shiyan had always believed she and Zhou Tan were estranged—until Zhou Tan entered the palace and she struck the petition drum a second time.

At the time, she had spoken out boldly before the drum-stone, yet afterward the capital rarely praised her and Zhou Tan as a deeply devoted couple. Part of that was due to Zhou Tan’s own reputation, but more importantly, the case involved a murder charge—if judged severely, it could implicate his family.

Husband and wife were one body; except for the very few who knew the truth, most probably assumed she had only acted out of concern for her own safety.

A woman pleading for her husband’s innocence always sounded better than an outright divorce.

Zhou Tan could never have confessed to Song Shiyan his connection to Xiao Yue. His vague promise to eliminate Fu Qingnian must have implied he held some fatal, decisive evidence.

The Crown Prince didn’t know the full truth, only a rough plan shared with him. So then—her striking the petition drum a second time—might he think it had been a scheme planned in advance?

Just as before, she and Zhou Tan operated in a kind of cooperative relationship, each pursuing their own schemes, each taking what they needed.

But seen through Song Shiyan’s eyes, the two of them appeared outwardly united but secretly estranged—which left ample room to drive a wedge between them.

A wave of revulsion rose in Qu You.

Seeing her remain silent, head lowered, Song Shiyan gave a cough, and the guard behind her stepped forward at once to shut the door behind her. Forced to step further inside, she found herself shut in the room together with Song Shiyan.

Qu You said coldly, “Your Highness, since I dared come see you, I certainly didn’t come alone. My guards downstairs may not match Your Highness’s men in number, but Fanlou is no ordinary place—if it truly came to blows…”

“I have no intention of doing anything to you—it needn’t come to that.” Song Shiyan studied her expression and smiled. “Miss Qu, Zhou Tan may not understand you, but I do. After our meeting at the East Gate, I went and read your old poems—’Before the hall, flowing water carries the flowers away; heaven, earth, and man alike know nothing of it’—others can’t understand it, but I can.”

“I understand that you’re unwilling to be merely a woman confined to the inner chambers. Even after you disregarded your own dignity to plead the cause of those courtesans, the world still credited that achievement to your husband—once, twice… Are you truly content to remain forever in his shadow, dragged down by his tarnished reputation, with no chance to ever make a name for yourself?”

After marrying his Crown Princess, Song Shiyan had taken no side consorts—partly out of deference to his uncle, the General, and partly to ensure the Crown Princess bore his first child, not out of any real chastity. Many nameless women like Ye Liuchun had entered his household, but they held no higher rank than a bed-servant maid.

And a bed-servant maid ranked even lower than a concubine—in the eyes of the ancients, favoring such a woman hardly even counted as licentiousness.

Song Shiyan was an old hand in matters of romance, and having grown up at Emperor De’s side since childhood, he was extremely skilled at reading people. Qu You held him in no small contempt in her heart, but she had to admit—Song Shiyan truly did have a keen insight into human nature.

When she’d first arrived in this world, all she’d wanted was freedom and a life free of dependence on others. Later she met Zhou Tan, and a fierce curiosity had kindled in her heart; then, after all they had been through together, living and nearly dying side by side, she had come to love and respect him, wanting to stay by his side and see how history would treat him.

Along the way, she had more than once forgotten the existence of this body’s original owner, and had never seriously considered what an ordinary court official’s daughter in Great Yin ought to aspire to.

Her aspirations came from a thousand years in the future; her sense of self had never truly merged with this era—no matter how much she loved Zhou Tan, she had never forgotten where she came from.

Only, there was no one she could confide these things to.

Song Shiyan could see through the heart of an ordinary court official’s daughter of Great Yin, which was why he’d made that speech just now—but he could not see through the detachment of a history student from a distant future. So to her ears, his words only sounded laughable.

Qu You curled her lips slightly, a nearly imperceptible mockery.

Song Shiyan believed he understood her, but he had no idea that what she truly sought was never empty fame—just like Zhou Tan, if she could do something real for the common people, she wouldn’t care whether her name was recorded in the history books.

Zhou Tan truly didn’t care; she truly didn’t mind either—different paths, same destination.

Besides, Zhou Tan had never once wanted her confined to being a mere woman of the inner household, nor had he ever taken credit for her achievements. Even before he’d truly understood her, he had admired her for aspirations that went beyond the boudoir, had no objection to her dressing as a man to travel about, and had even accommodated her ambitions—finding a way to keep her at the Ministry of Justice so she’d have the chance to do work she loved.

Zhou Tan simply wasn’t as glib and flattering as Song Shiyan—when he actually did something for her, he never sought credit for it.

But everything Song Shiyan said sounded so dazzling that she couldn’t guess what he was truly thinking.

To find out what was really on his mind, Qu You lowered her eyes and asked, feigning interest, “Since Your Highness speaks this way, you must already know what it is I want?”

Song Shiyan blew gently across the surface of his wine, closing his eyes to breathe in its fragrance, and said idly, “How about Empress?”

“You—”

Though she’d known he was mad, Qu You truly hadn’t expected him to be mad to this degree. “Your Highness, mind your words!”

“What are you afraid of? Everyone outside this door is my trusted confidant,” Song Shiyan said. “Once I ascend to the throne, whoever I wish to install is entirely my own decision. When that time comes, I can find you a hundred different identities—a twin daughter of the Qu family, an unmarried daughter of some noble house, even a princess of another people, or an orphan of a fallen dynasty. You needn’t worry…”

Qu You said coldly, “The Crown Princess is still alive.”

“Youyou, you’ve met the Crown Princess—you should know what kind of person she is. Do you truly think someone like her is fit to be Empress?” Song Shiyan sighed and stood up. “The Empress I want must be clever, sharp, know when to advance and when to yield, ambitious… daring to do what others dare not…”

He called her by her given name, walking up to stand before her. Qu You instinctively stepped aside, but Song Shiyan took no offense, leaning in close and lowering his voice as he continued, “Don’t you loathe the kneeling ritual more than anything? Come with me… In this whole world, only I can protect your pride and never make you kneel again.”

Qu You could bear his words no longer. She turned, pushed open the door, and walked out.

The top floor of Fanlou served only the most exalted nobility and was otherwise empty. Song Shiyan’s guards stood before the staircase, and seeing her approach, bowed with feigned deference, but said, “Madam, His Highness has not given you leave to depart.”

Qu You turned back to look at Song Shiyan. He stood beneath the wooden plaque reading “Ascending Clouds’ Joy,” looking down at her from above, his gaze no longer gentle but tinged with a cold, sinister edge.

He simply stood there, saying nothing, doing nothing. Looking at that expression on his face, Qu You felt a chill spread down her spine, cold enough to make her shudder despite herself.

In that instant, something suddenly flashed through her mind—a single line from the history books, mentioned only in passing, that she had never before thought carefully about.

Author’s Note:

Note:

[Poem citations omitted in translation]