Underground, separated by just a cover.

The Empress Dowager held up her broken finger, tilting her head back, staring blankly at the space above, watching that thin line of hopeful daylight pass like a white colt through a crack, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Behind her, two palace maids let out a desperate wail.

The Empress Dowager suddenly lunged forward viciously again, nearly madly using her head to ram, her elbows to strike, her nail guards to scratch. Her elbows had long since been split from the impacts, stained with spots of blood. This collision produced a crisp crack, and she let out a heart-rending scream.

The iron cover above pressed down heavily, like the inescapable darkness of a nightmare.

She knew she could never get out again.

Tie Ci personally guarded here, personally suppressing her from above.

This vicious woman deliberately gave her hope, then kicked her into despair with one foot, wanting her to suffer every torture in smoke and ice water before dying.

Her strength was already exhausted.

Yet she couldn’t push open even the slightest gap above.

She let out the last anguished moan of her life, low and unwilling, the final compressed resentment and hatred squeezed from her chest cavity.

A pair of slender, pale hands with sharp fingernails weakly drooped on the water surface, then silently sank into the water.

A few bubbles gurgled up and quietly dissipated in the acrid smoke.

…

The golden hall was covered in snow, uniformly white, so the towering flames and smoke in the night could be seen throughout all of Shengdu.

The people’s hearts were lifted, not knowing what had happened in the palace. A great fire burned from night until dawn.

Countless people gathered at the square and refused to leave, silently praying.

In front of Chongming Palace, the busy ministers simultaneously stopped their steps, looking toward the direction of Ciren Palace with complex expressions.

His Majesty, at the first moment of resolving the crisis, burned grandmother’s Ciren Palace.

Only at this moment did everyone clearly recognize that beneath Tie Ci’s seemingly calm and steady exterior lay boundless, towering hatred.

From now on, she would never again be soft-hearted, never again show mercy. She was no longer the modest, benevolent, and magnanimous Crown Princess of the past, but the sole, most coldly rational and resolute master of Da Qian’s ten thousand li of rivers and mountains.

In Ciren Palace, Tie Ci finally slowly moved away from that flat ground.

As if walking away from any random patch of ground, she passed through the passage cleared by the guards, passed the trembling crowd kneeling all over the ground, passed the palace servants who would continue splashing oil on the palace walls after she left, until she sat in the warm sedan chair, never once looking back.

Ciren Palace burned silently behind her, and behind her were snow-covered palace buildings like ten thousand red lotus blossoms.

In front of Chongming Palace, the ministers waited for the new emperor’s return, carrying the scent of smoke and fire.

Xia Houchun said to the ministers behind her: “The Empress Dowager, heartbroken by the Xiao family rebellion and seeking to atone for her sins, burned the palace and immolated herself. Rescue came too late. She was originally a relative of rebellious subjects, and burning the palace was also a great crime. In consideration of her nurturing grace toward the late Emperor, her crimes are pardoned, and she is posthumously granted the title of Grand Imperial Noble Dowager Consort, not to be buried in Zhao Mausoleum nor receive offerings at the Imperial Ancestral Temple. Because her bones and remains were lost in the self-immolation, Ciren Palace shall be permanently sealed.”

Everyone listened in silence, their hearts chilled to the bone.

This was not even allowing her bones to be buried, condemning the Empress Dowager to forever remain a lonely ghost.

Deathly silence.

People silently watched that retreating figure.

Even the most upright and principled civil officials remained silent.

After a long while, He Zi led in bowing. “We ministers accept the decree.”

Without waiting for Tie Ci’s response, he continued: “Your Majesty, according to imperial law, the late Emperor should lie in state at Chongming Palace, but Chongming Palace is damaged…”

“Place him in Chengqian Hall.”

He Zi immediately said: “Yes. Currently, external enemies have not been pacified and the capital is not stable. The people and scholars of Shengdu are gathered outside Zhengyang Gate, awaiting news from the palace. To stabilize the people’s hearts, please ascend the throne before the coffin in Chengqian Hall and preside over the subsequent funeral rites and enthronement ceremony.”

“…Granted.”

…

In Chongming Palace, ministers prostrated themselves at the bottom of the steps.

The inner servants had completed the initial preparations and filed out.

Tie Ci personally carried Father Emperor into the coffin.

At the moment of lifting him, her heart ached.

They say the bodies of the newly deceased are heavy because they carry the weight of lingering attachment and reluctance.

Yet the body in her arms was so light, having become so withered and haggard when she hadn’t noticed.

She held him like holding a gust of wind, that wind that brushed through her carefree childhood, a smiling face amid falling petals.

It swept through her youth of day-and-night cultivation, those hands that always gently stroked her hair.

It passed through her gradually maturing young adulthood, those robe corners that always quickly lifted when he saw her, the cheerful laughter that always suppressed his worries to greet her.

Her Father Emperor, a caged bird his entire life, whose wings couldn’t bear the high winds of heaven, yet always spread them with all his might, only hoping to shelter her a little more, and a little more still.

When she left for distant lands to survive, he struggled desperately for her within the deep palace.

Only in the last year of his life was he truly free, truly himself again, yet in this last year, she was not by his side.

She returned carrying wind, smoke, and blood, and he repaid her with trust and love. She was the most fortunate heir in the world, never having tasted the bitterness of suspicion and suppression.

Perhaps worldly affairs are always thus—never allowing perfect circles. What is gained in one place must be lost in another.

In the end, Heaven’s will demanded she pay with the greatest suffering.

Tie Ci’s hand slowly brushed over the Emperor’s collar, arranging it properly to cover the purple-black sores on his neck.

Something flashed in the wind, crystal clear, falling down. She raised her hand to catch it.

Tears must not fall on the newly deceased, or they cannot depart in peace.

She stared blankly at that point of coolness on her fingertip, the dragon candle’s bright light making it sparkle like a diamond.

Father Emperor, I’m sorry.

I tried my utmost to take good care of your remaining years, yet in the end, it was still I who harmed you.

All my careful planning ultimately could not withstand Heaven’s merciless will.

Father Emperor, go well.

Do not worry, do not be concerned.

This towering Shengdu, this Da Qian realm—rest assured, I have taken them up.

In the next life, may you be born into an ordinary family, in the clear mountains and beautiful waters of Jiangnan amid willows and mist, never needing to achieve great deeds throughout your life, only seeking harmony, peace, and a lifetime without worry.

She slowly stood and walked into the side hall, where Noble Consort Jing’s coffin rested.

All the windows were open, and papers held down by paperweights on the table rustled.

Tie Ci stopped beside the table, looking down at that blood-stained page.

Because the side hall contained a consort’s corpse, the ministers had not entered. Only she approached this table.

She looked down at that paper for a long time.

Under the desk, silver silk charcoal in the fire basin glowed faintly red.

A long while passed.

The paperweight was gently moved aside.

A gust of wind passed.

The blood-red paper was swept into the charcoal basin, quickly curling, blackening, turning to ash.

Finally scattering in the wind.

Snow-white robe corners silently moved past the desk, stopping before Noble Consort Jing’s corpse.

Tie Ci did not sit down or draw near. Her gaze slowly passed over Mother Consort’s exceptionally delicate, pale skin and her polished, smooth fingernails.

Mother Consort.

As your own daughter, after your death, I don’t even know what to say to you.

I should be sad, but my tears have already run dry in my heart.

Perhaps there is still hatred. You were so foolish and weak that despite all my efforts, I could not prevent you from sliding into the abyss, and you brought Father Emperor down with you.

But what use is there in blaming you? You were merely the daughter of an ordinary clerk. Your knowledge and vision destined you never to adapt to court life. If you had lived in a normal court, your soul would have departed for the realm of departed hatred long ago, and there would have been no me and no subsequent story.

Ultimately, the fault lies with me.

Not enough time and preparation to help you adapt to the identity and mental transformation from years as a puppet to sudden freedom.

Not enough warnings and precautions to make you understand the palace’s dangers, that human hearts are like abysses. To understand that even with me in power, crises and enemies were still everywhere.

I only chose to protect you blindly, to shield you, thinking you were beyond help, so you might as well stay put obediently.

Yet I forgot that love without measure or vigilance would cast everyone into hell.

Mother Consort.

Father Emperor’s Jing Mausoleum is not yet completed. He will lie in state at Zhaoyang Hall on Jing Mountain for three years.

After three years, I will send him to Jing Mausoleum.

As for you, you shall enter the Consort Mausoleum.

I think he would not want your companionship, just as you certainly have no face to see him.

In the next life, may you also not enter the imperial family, not meet again, not be infatuated again.

I hope that someday you will understand how to live for yourself.

…

Two coffins were slowly lifted.

Tie Ci stood in the hall. Behind her, He Zi personally changed her into a plain crown, while Chi Xue knelt at her feet arranging the mourning robes.

Tie Ci remained motionless, watching those two massive, heavy forms disappear into the plain white and deep red ahead.

The mourning bell rang.

She slightly raised her chin, gazing at the pale daylight ahead.

From today onward.

I.

Have no parents.

…

At the break of dawn, thick, resonant bell tolls echoed throughout Shengdu.

Everyone raised their heads, gazing at the palace’s corner towers and the persistent haze clouds above them, silently counting the bell tolls.

Forty-five times.

His Majesty has passed away. National mourning.

Mournful voices rolled like tides from the palace gates, spreading through Shengdu’s pathways and alleys. Countless people emerged from their homes, prostrating themselves on the ground.

New snow on the trees had not yet melted, and the entire city was again draped in white.

Countless common people and scholars surged onto the square, silently waiting.

The gates of Chongming Palace slowly opened.

Two coffins, one large and one small, proceeded forth, forming a long procession extending across the snowy ground.

Tie Ci, in mourning robes and plain crown, walked at the very front.

Before Chengqian Hall, in front of the late Emperor’s dragon coffin, He Zi knelt presenting the jade seal and imperial edict.

“We request Crown Princess Your Highness to ascend the imperial throne before the coffin.”

The ministers performed three kneelings and nine kowtows.

“We request Crown Princess Your Highness to ascend the imperial throne before the coffin!”

Tie Ci stood beside Father Emperor’s golden coffin, her hand resting on the cold coffin lid, not looking at that supreme symbol of the dynasty, her fingers gently caressing the smooth coffin surface.

Like stroking Father Emperor’s final, temperature-less face.

In this moment, her consistently firm heart suddenly showed a trace of confusion.

Were these two things before her truly what she wanted?

If she were not herself.

If she were not Da Qian’s heir.

If she were only Tie Ci.

She would willingly abandon everything, become destitute, poor and wretched, suffer a lifetime of hardship.

Only asking that time could flow backward, only asking that her parents could remain safe, only asking that separated loved ones could return.

Only asking this merciless heaven and earth to give her back her freedom.

…