◎Confession◎

Qu You looked at her again.

Though this was, without question, the very same person, the timid, cowering demeanor she had once worn as the Crown Princess had vanished entirely. Li Yuanjun glanced at her with cool indifference, the corner of her mouth curling upward, though no warmth touched her eyes. “Lady Qu, you’ve suffered greatly these past days.”

In that instant, all of Qu You’s lingering confusion suddenly resolved itself.

The faint scent of medicine that had always clung to the crown prince, his fits of violent rage alternating with sudden clarity, his account of events so utterly different from Song Xixuan’s, Ye Liuchun’s puzzlement… and the way the Crown Princess, on her first visit to Bo Ying’s shop, had asked her — as if in passing — for that chart of food interactions and poisonings.

But to what end?

Song Shiyan stared in bewilderment as his ever-meek, ever-obedient principal consort walked slowly toward him, reached out, grasped the end of the white-feathered arrow, and, with a slight application of force, pulled it free. Blood gushed out at once, staining his entire hand.

Li Yuanjun, calm and unhurried, drew a handkerchief from her sleeve and bound the wound, her eyes lifting slightly, a mocking smile playing at her lips. “Even now, at a moment like this, Your Highness still has the leisure to sit here and exchange sweet nothings with Lady Qu. Truly, I am in awe.”

Ever since her appearance, she had addressed him only as “Your Highness,” never as “Your Majesty.”

A sovereign without the imperial seal, whose succession itself stood on shaky ground, could scarcely be called a true emperor.

Song Shiyan still seemed lost in astonishment; only after she spoke a few more words did he seem to wake as if from a dream, calling out on reflex, “Guards! Guards!”

“Whom does Your Highness mean to call?” Li Yuanjun cut in swiftly. “Every soldier atop this wall belongs to my Li family’s army. Below the wall stand the men of Xishao, brought here by my father. Your Highness is neither like the eldest prince, who led armies personally to the western frontier and left his bones in the desert sands, nor like the second prince, tempered in the army camps, commanding respect even without the tiger tally. With the whole city now in an uproar, how many truly loyal to you remain?”

Song Shiyan stared fixedly at her unfamiliar face, and in his agitation, the wound she had just bound began bleeding through once more. “What are you, then? Where is your father? Where is your uncle? Call him…”

Li Yuanjun countered, her tone neither warm nor cold. “Shouldn’t I be the one asking that question — what are you? You are not even my aunt’s true-born son. Uncle? Ha… Did Your Highness truly believe this could be kept hidden forever?”

“Non-nonsense!” Song Shiyan’s lips trembled once, twice. He pushed himself upright against the wall behind him, looking down at Li Yuanjun from above. “I am the Son of Heaven! Whoever you are, you owe your loyalty to me by rights! Who taught you to speak such words? How long have you known?”

Qu You sat slumped in the shadow of the wall, murmuring hoarsely, “…When did it begin?”

Li Yuanjun glanced down at her, smiling. “What did Lady Qu say?”

“I said — when did you and your father begin scheming all this?” Qu You looked at her without flinching, growing more alarmed the longer she spoke. “Your marriage, the poison, Xishao… you have planned all of this for so long. What is it you want? The realm itself?”

Li Yuanjun’s eyes flickered. “Naturally.”

“Then why bring the Xishao army into the city at all? If they come, could you and your father truly hold this realm afterward?”

“It was a solution born of necessity,” Li Yuanjun crouched down before her, answering with unexpected earnestness. “Originally, my father and I only wished to borrow a portion of the Xishao forces to counter old General Chu. Once he was dead, we planned to eliminate them as well — and for that, I actually owe you a debt of gratitude. It was you who gave us the perfect excuse to drive the Xishao men out of the city, letting them all die outside its walls.”

Qu You breathed heavily.

“I have long known your husband was sheltering the descendant of Prince Jing’s line, and I paid you little mind at first.” Li Yuanjun’s tone shifted, taking on a note of genuine regret. “But I never imagined his abilities would prove so vast — not only did he revive Lingxiao’s old forces, he even recruited a demon like Zhou Yan, a name that strikes terror into every Xishao heart… My father and I had no choice. Without borrowing the Xishao armies, how else could we possibly stand against you?”

“In any case—”

She drew out the words, tilting her head with a laugh. “Your Highness is, after all, a descendant of Xishao blood. When the historians take up their brushes, this whole account will naturally be laid at your feet. Your Highness… truly, you have disappointed me greatly. With an army in your hands, you hesitated at every turn, refused to act decisively, and let a splendid opportunity crumble to nothing. Our thousand-year foundation, buried entirely because of you!”

The more she spoke, the more agitated and loud she became, her face taking on an expression eerily similar to Song Shiyan’s own — Qu You recognized it at once: the fevered hunger for power within arm’s reach.

Song Shiyan struck her to the ground with a single slap. He hauled Li Yuanjun up by the collar, seized the white-feathered arrow still stained with his own blood, and gripped it tightly, its silver point catching the light before her eyes. “Yuanjun, all these years of marriage, and I never once saw your true face!”

“My true face?” Li Yuanjun let out a light laugh. “Cousin, before others you play the part of the glorious crown prince, but behind closed doors you beat and curse me, nearly driving me to my death. Which of the two is your true face — can you even answer that yourself?”

Song Shiyan stared at that face, once always so gentle and yielding, astonished to find it capable of such an expression. When he had first met his uncle’s daughter at seventeen, his impression of her had been vague at best; the only thing he truly remembered was her deference.

It had been the palace’s spring banquet. Li Yuanjun had worn a pale goose-yellow robe, bowing to him with soft, gentle courtesy: “Your Highness.”

Sweet, soft-spoken — though he had never found her plain features appealing, he had felt no aversion toward her either.

Later, passing by the pond in the back garden, he had watched, plain as day, as someone pushed her in. Unable to swim, she thrashed in the water, crying, “Help! Help me!!”

He had stood in the pavilion to the side, watching, finding it rather amusing.

Then Li Yuanjun had seen him too, her eyes lighting up at once. “Your Highness!”

But he had remained unmoved.

When a woman fell into the water, custom dictated she wait for her own maid or servant to save her; if rescued by a man outside her family, her reputation would be ruined for life should she not marry him.

He had cared nothing for her reputation, but her marriage was a bargaining chip in his hand, not to be spent carelessly.

Song Shiyan had yawned, and was just about to leave, when he heard the drowning woman call out to him, her voice thick with despair and terror: “Cousin…”

He had suddenly recalled the look in the young girl’s eyes at the spring banquet — plain compared to the noble ladies of the capital, with no particular talent or renown to speak of, always seated in some unremarkable corner where no one bothered to speak to her, her eyes lighting up only when she bowed to him.

For a brief moment, his heart had softened.

There had been no one else around; by the time he finally, with great difficulty, dragged the girl from the pond, her uncle had come rushing over in a panic.

And so he had acquired a principal consort who was never quite to his liking.

A long stretch of time had passed between their engagement and their wedding. In all that time, she had never learned any of the qualities he admired — trembling and fearful like some sheltered maiden who had never known hardship, embarrassing herself at family banquets, unable even to command the household’s servants.

A weak, clinging vine.

Her only virtue was her silence — because of it, no matter what he did, no one else would ever know. The first time he brought home a woman of unknown origin, she had asked only a single question before hurrying off to prepare her quarters.

And so he had grown increasingly reckless. He knew he was taking advantage of her kindness, but he had always despised women of noble families like her most of all — women without a single ounce of backbone in their whole bodies, willing to lock themselves away behind vermilion gates and embroidered curtains, content to live out their lives leaning entirely on their husbands.

If only she had shown this face of hers sooner…

Seeing him hesitate, Qu You dragged herself up, the heavy shackles weighing on her hands, and took several steps in the opposite direction from the two of them, though she still asked, “When did it begin?”

Li Yuanjun, entirely unafraid, looked at the bow nearly touching the tip of her nose, considered for a moment, then answered, “The year His Highness turned seventeen, when he tortured and killed a servant in the imperial garden.”

Song Shiyan reflexively protested, “I did not kill that man…”

“Ha ha ha ha,” Li Yuanjun bit her lip and laughed. “Does Your Highness still, even now, believe you didn’t kill him? However boundless the second prince’s abilities, he could not possibly have bribed every single palace maid in that garden in an instant to serve his purposes. Has it never once occurred to Your Highness to wonder where things truly went wrong?”

Only then did he begin, belatedly, to grasp the conversation between Qu You and Li Yuanjun. His hand trembled as he asked, disbelieving, “You— you poisoned me?”

Li Yuanjun raised an eyebrow. “This poison of mine only causes Your Highness’s moods to swing wildly and brings on the occasional hallucination. Had you always been firm and clear-headed, you would have noticed the problem long ago — instead, from that very first time until now…”

She counted on her fingers. “Ten years now, isn’t it? Everyone always said Your Highness was so brilliant, so gifted — and yet you noticed nothing at all. Ha ha ha ha ha.”

“At seventeen — it was I who killed that man?” Song Shiyan repeated blankly, unsure whether he was asking her or himself. “Impossible. This is impossible. It wasn’t me! It was my second brother! At the time, his blood even splashed onto my boots, I…”

He continued to protest incoherently, looking down at his wounded palm; the blood, from the force of his grip, slowly soaked through the white handkerchief, spreading further and further.

“Does my cousin truly believe I have harbored such deep, uncontrollable feelings for him all these years?” Li Yuanjun seemed to relish this rare expression on his face, mocking him further. “If that were so, I would surely have taken my own life the very first time you raised a hand against me. My Li family has produced generals for generations — men of fierce, unyielding blood. Though I am a woman, I too must live up to the plaques that line our ancestral hall! I have played this false part for so many years — now, at last, I no longer need to pretend before you. You have no idea how satisfying this moment feels to me!”

A wind carried the distant clatter of approaching weapons and armor from far away. Qu You glanced outward. “They’re coming soon.”

Song Shiyan paid it no mind, still unable to believe anything he had heard. “Why, why — what is it you all want?”

“Your Highness likely still does not know…”

Li Yuanjun let out a soft sigh, then wrapped her arms around his neck and whispered something into his ear. Song Shiyan’s expression changed drastically at whatever she said; he released her collar, tossed the white-feathered arrow aside without a thought, and stumbled back several steps.

Li Yuanjun rose smoothly to her feet, still smiling faintly, and no longer paid Song Shiyan any mind at all — instead, she turned at once toward Qu You. “Lady Qu, do you know why I have come here today?”

From somewhere not far off, a distant voice seemed to call out: “A’Lian…”

It was Zhou Tan’s voice!

Qu You’s eyes went wide. The moment she turned, she felt a sharp, icy sting at the back of her neck, and before she could even make out the figure of the man galloping toward her in the distance, she lost consciousness.

Li Yuanjun swept her up in her arms and carried her off, walking toward the base of the wall. Song Shiyan sat slumped where he had fallen, calling out to her belatedly: “Yuanjun…”

Her steps faltered for a moment; her brow softened slightly, her eyes flickering with something unreadable.

But Song Shiyan only asked, “Where are you taking her? Do you mean to kill her?”

And with that, whatever flicker had appeared in her eyes was extinguished, forever.

Song Shiyan watched, helpless, as Li Yuanjun let out a scornful laugh, cradling Qu You in her arms as she disappeared swiftly into the shadow of the wall, the token of the Li family hanging at her waist. More than half the soldiers stationed on the wall followed after her as she left.

She did not look back, not even once.