This was the second time Ye Tingyan had entered Qionghua Hall in daylight. It was a sweltering summer afternoon. The sun was at its zenith, its golden light rippling and swaying. Though there were no spring blossoms along the path, the greenery was lush and dense, as if brimming with endless vitality.

He walked along the long corridor toward the inner hall and caught a glimpse of the small pond nearby, where the lotus flowers were in full bloom. From the trees beside the small pond hung several lanterns of peculiar shape.

Catching sight of those lanterns, Ye Tingyan could not help but pause.

Noticing his hesitation, the inner official guiding him did not understand the reason and turned back with an apologetic smile: “Lord Ye, Your Highness has given special instructions, saying she knows you cannot stand long in the sun, and asked us to be quick on our feet and invite the great official to speak inside.”

Ye Tingyan withdrew his gaze: “I trouble the honored official.”

The inner official said hastily: “The great official is too courteous.”

Those lanterns were in the shape of rhinoceros horns, he reflected.

Now that he thought of it, the tale of burning the rhinoceros horn to illuminate the waters from the Book of Jin — it was actually a story the two of them had encountered together, flipping through books in the past. Luowei had been timid in those days; he had teased her by saying the pond had ghosts, and she slept badly the whole night. The next day, looking at her eyes swollen like peaches, he felt very guilty and personally made many rhinoceros horn lanterns.

He had hung the lanterns all along the winding corridor beside Huiling Lake, and danced with his sword in the moonlight for her, saying that burning the rhinoceros horn could illuminate the underworld, and that he would stand guard at the lakeside with his sword, to cut down any ghost that emerged — no matter how many thousands, she need not be afraid.

Luowei had been placated immediately and went with him to drift on a boat across the lake.

So many years had passed now, and she still believed in such tricks.

Burning the rhinoceros horn in her own hall — was she trying to illuminate the darkness in the depths of her own heart? But now, who was there to wield a sword for her?

The inner official pushed open the heavy hall door and said reverently: “Your Highness, Lord Ye Gu has come by imperial summons to pay his respects.”

Luowei paused, then said: “Come in.”

The attendants in Qionghua Hall all kept strict order. At her instruction, the palace servants in the hall immediately filed out one by one, and the inner official at the door, after he entered, swiftly closed the great hall doors, leaving only Zhang Siyi who had been standing guard at the door that night.

Ye Tingyan glanced at him, walked closer, and said with a clap of admiration: “Your Highness truly knows how to manage those below you. When Feng Inner Official had the mishap, I was still worried about how Your Highness would manage affairs without a trusted attendant. It seems I was overthinking. In this palace, in this hall, is there any place Your Highness cannot keep an eye on?”

Luowei was at the writing desk, adding a title inscription to a painting. She said without looking up: “Naturally. Lord Ye would do well to be careful. The inner palace has no shortage of servants, and who knows where one of my confidants may be lurking. If you were to say anything ill of me and I happened to hear of it, I most certainly would not let it pass.”

Ye Tingyan clasped his hands in a bow and smiled: “Your servant dares not.”

Luowei held her brush and gave an instruction without lifting her eyes even slightly: “Suwu, you may withdraw as well.”

Zhang Siyi obediently set down the inkstone in his hand and turned to take his leave, going into the inner hall. Ye Tingyan walked to stand behind Luowei and happened to glance at him, suddenly feeling as if he looked somehow familiar.

So he asked one more question: “When did Zhang Siyi come to serve Your Highness?”

Luowei looked up and cast him a slightly wary glance, then with her eyes sent a signal for Zhang Siyi — who had paused in his steps — to go on, and replied: “Suwu originally served in the archive tower. I felt he was capable and transferred him to my side. Why — does Lord Ye recognize him?”

Ye Tingyan watched his retreating figure, then shook his head. He shifted his gaze back to the painting spread out on the desk and said in admiration: “Your Highness has fine brushwork.”

Luowei had painted a spring scene.

Among lush green willows and drifting misty clouds, a high terrace stood graceful and beautiful. Occasional new swallows flew past the still-swaying beaded curtains. A woman sat before the terrace, gazing up at the sky, blank sheets of paper scattered all around her, falling blossoms drifting down like snow.

A very common image of a woman longing for an absent one.

The only difference was that beside this woman’s hand there was no round fan, no hairpin, not even a tear-soaked handkerchief. She sat in this lavish, languid spring scene, cleaning a long sword.

Between the floating clouds were ink marks not yet dry — the half-verse Luowei had just inscribed. She had long since stopped writing in the sweeping Flying White style or the Orchid Pavilion script; her brushstrokes were now drifting and uncertain, and what she had written here was in the delicate Hairpin Flower small clerical script.

Ye Tingyan read along the clouds —

“Heaven’s intent is utterly obscured. Like this moment, all fine scenery passes in vain, bubbles and mallow blossoms. I dream you come and bring the bright moon; waking, the brocade-flower blooms in vain. No break in spring’s fragrance — only one thought. The many regrets of young men of the five mausoleums; the white crane has already gone, and I beat the railing to the end. Who locks up empty the swallows within the tower?”

Having read through it, before he could even think about what the verse meant, the words left his lips: “Your Highness has written half a verse of the ‘Gaoyang Terrace’ melody.”

Luowei’s hand trembled. The tip of the freshly inked brush let fall a drop, landing on the east side of the painting where the sun ought to be, blooming outward — like an evil spirit shedding a single tear.

She immediately spoke, as if covering something up in haste: “I heard this morning that there is renewed fighting in Beiyou. I read many poems of longing, and wrote this on a whim. But now the painting is ruined — if the great official likes it, shall I give it to you?”

Ye Tingyan’s expression, which had been wavering, quickly went cold at her words. He drew a breath and composed himself, then replied: “Since Your Highness has been so generous as to offer it, your servant will not stand on courtesy.”

Before Luowei could say anything more, he reached past her and took the painting, blew the ink drop dry, and swiftly rolled up the scroll — not giving her any chance to take it back.

Luowei was somewhat pained, but could not say so plainly, and could only drop her brush in a show of mild displeasure: “I knew it. He would send you to give me ‘extra hands.’ Come to think of it, I have always been very curious: the Emperor has such a suspicious and second-guessing nature — how does he manage to trust you so completely?”

Ye Tingyan made a sound of interest and asked with amusement: “Has Your Highness figured it out by now?”

Luowei only smiled without answering.

A moment ago when he snatched her painting, it had suddenly made her recall the reason Ye Tingyan had earned Song Lan’s trust in Beiyou.

— Danxiao. Trampled to pieces.

When he presented that painting, Song Lan had known at once: the person before him could strike so precisely at what was in his heart because they were, at bottom, the same kind of person.

Others did not know, but he understood. A crown prince like Song Lan, who had suffered a lonely and unloved childhood — even under the complete protection of an elder sibling, in the deepest recesses of his heart there was always unwillingness.

He craved blazing power, the sensation of submission, craved being free of all constraint. He would never be willing to be the weak one begging for sympathy under the wings of a family member, nor willing to receive others’ charity. People like them only wished to bestow charity on others, to stand in the heights and look down.

This is my realm, sustained only by my own nurturing.

If that painting had sparked some interest in him, then Ye Tingyan’s act upon returning to the capital — having his slave mark carved out of his own flesh on the red-lit pavilion — had probably made Song Lan regard him with even greater esteem. Playing the weak and innocent card for the sake of one’s goals, yet stopping at nothing to act when the time came — how perfectly in line with Song Lan’s tastes.

It was said that Song Lan had often summoned Ye Tingyan to the rear hall of Qianfang Hall for private conversations in recent days, talking for two full hours at a stretch — clear evidence of Song Lan’s great appreciation.

And yet, the pity of it was that Song Lan loved to use precisely such a person, and felt secure setting him to watch her, not realizing that such a person’s mind was as intricate as his own — even those who knew each other well were not necessarily loyal.

Luowei lightly brushed her hand over Ye Tingyan’s face and changed the subject: “How did the Emperor instruct you?”

“The Emperor said that with the Noble Consort being with child, he has no other recourse.” Ye Tingyan caught her hand and stroked it absently a couple of times. “He is too lazy to exert himself, so he has divided the matter in half to give to your servant, and tasked your servant with assisting the Empress well — what does the Empress plan to do next?”

He paused, then asked in a low voice: “Did Your Highness know a month ago that the Noble Consort was with child, and was that why you were so resolute then?”

To his surprise, Luowei was startled — and then shook her head.

“Suiyun being with child came as a surprise to me as well,” Luowei said. “Her pregnancy means I was mistaken in my reading of things. But now that the Emperor and you and I are all of one mind, it spares us a good deal of trouble.”

Ye Tingyan’s thoughts turned swiftly: “Then what was your surefire plan before? Now that it is the Emperor who wishes to remove the Grand Preceptor, my earlier words to you are all the more cause for concern — once the Grand Preceptor’s power is gone, your position in the court…”

He had not yet finished when Luowei interrupted: “I am, after all, the Empress.”

She repeated it once more: “I am, after all, the Empress. The Emperor and I have more than ten years of feeling between us. If it comes to the worst, I will simply step back from power and cease interfering in court affairs.”

Ye Tingyan tightened his grip on her hand: “Cease interfering in court affairs? Your Highness — I saw the military defense map in your secret room. I asked at the time: what is it you seek?”

Luowei’s gaze went cool: “What did you see? There is nothing in my secret room. Even if you told the Emperor and he brought soldiers to search, they would find nothing.”

Ye Tingyan released her hand and said unhurriedly: “It seems Your Highness still does not trust me.”

Luowei said: “The Grand Preceptor is still in court. There is no use in saying anything now. Lord Ye worries too much.”

Ye Tingyan feigned annoyance: “Is my worry not for your sake?”

Luowei softened her tone slightly: “I know your intentions. But the Grand Preceptor — I must remove him.”

She took the initiative to embrace him and drew closer: “Do you not want to know my plans? I can tell you now. You are clever — help me think as well, and see if there are any flaws in this plan, or whether you have any cards still in hand, and tell them to me.”

Ye Tingyan half-encircled her waist. Seeing she was straining on tiptoe and finding it somewhat difficult to hold him, he applied a little strength and lifted her, setting her on the desk.

Luowei did not mind and sat on the desk chatting with him at length. Only when golden light began to filter in through the doorway had the two of them finished speaking. Just before he left, Ye Tingyan cradled her painting and mused: “Your Highness has said so much, all fine schemes that kill without shedding blood. And yet your servant still does not know — why were you so confident before that you would win?”

“Three days from now, I will go to Xiuqing Temple to offer Buddhist prayers,” Luowei stepped down from the desk and said mildly. “I will not trouble the people. The Grand Preceptor will also be there. As the matter involves an imperial family secret, I ought not to speak of it, but to show the great official my sincerity, I cannot afford to be so cautious. If you truly wish to know, on that day, I will lay everything before you without concealment.”

Ye Tingyan was finally somewhat satisfied. He held the scroll under his arm, performed a respectful bow: “Your servant obeys.”

Zhang Siyi saw Ye Tingyan out of the hall, and upon returning found Luowei had spread fresh paper and seemed to want to paint another piece. Regrettably, her mind was unsettled, and after a few hasty strokes she put the brush down.

Seeing his expression was grave, Luowei asked: “What did he ask you?”

Zhang Siyi said: “Lord Ye asked your servant what his family does.”

Luowei asked with some hesitation: “Have you met him before?”

Zhang Siyi shook his head: “Never. Counting the days, we should not have met. If there is truly any sense of familiarity, it could be from crossing paths in the archive tower.”

Luowei was somewhat reassured by this. Zhang Siyi drew a few steps closer and said: “Yan Shizi has a message, but he did not dare put it in writing. He says he will come to tell Your Highness himself on the day Your Highness goes to Xiuqing Temple.”