The unbearable experiences of the past twenty days surged through her heart like tidal waves. Baozhu recalled the long, cold nights when she and the boy knelt without rising in Nichang Courtyard, the purple-red whip marks across the youth’s back. Yuhu’s swollen and deformed features, his sharp and pitiful death cries still echoing in her ears.
The moon would rise, the sun would set; the thorn bow and bamboo arrows would extinguish all royal descendants. Prince Qi was already dead, but his descendants with the Taiyuan Wang clan still lived in this world. The beasts who had participated in the Bliss Banquet and harmed the Guanyin slaves still lived freely and leisurely in Luoyang’s officialdom.
She could never forget Princess Consort’s words: “I still have sons and grandsons. Prince Qi’s mansion has heirs to inherit the title—the foundation won’t be shaken.” Thinking about it, with her muddled and debauched husband killed, Princess Consort might even be secretly pleased. The prince’s mansion could have a new master, and she could peacefully enjoy her twilight years playing with grandchildren, continuing to enjoy the first osmanthus branch from Chanming Temple each year.
Since she had already begun, she might as well kill cleanly and thoroughly.
“Take out pen and paper, write Li Yu’s crimes into an impeachment letter, list in detail his damnable offenses, and petition the emperor to thoroughly investigate his accomplices and pursue his wives, children, and descendants.”
The frost-laden command left her lips. Yang Xingjian looked completely astonished. After a while, he leaned his crutch against the table, struggled to support himself with both hands, and slowly knelt down, his expression and tone equally heavy and oppressive.
“Princess, this minister failed to protect you adequately, allowing you to suffer hardship and humiliation—I deserve death ten thousand times over. But I must risk death to tell you one truth: Imperial dignity differs from commoners like heaven and earth. Though laws have clear provisions, courtesy doesn’t extend to common people, and punishment doesn’t reach high officials—this is an ancient precedent.
Now that the princess’s status differs from the past, even if a prince kidnapped civilian women and killed courtesan slaves, reporting this to the imperial ear wouldn’t be enough to condemn him to death. If Li Yu were still alive, at most His Majesty would reprimand him a few times and command him to reform and reflect, but wouldn’t strip his title, much less impose collective punishment. Only after the princess reaches Youzhou to join her brother might there be… might there be a chance for revenge in the future.”
Having finished, Yang Xingjian bowed down, touching his head to the ground in formal prostration, apologizing with a helpless demeanor.
Baozhu lay reclining on the couch, looking down at this middle-aged man’s head. Over these twenty-plus days, his white hair had suddenly increased greatly. Wei Xun was already gaunt, now even more skeletal with a wild, mad appearance. After losing weight, Shisan Lang’s originally childish face had suddenly matured considerably, as if growing two or three years older in the blink of an eye.
As for herself, her skin burned like fire, aching everywhere without respite, so weak she couldn’t even sit up to drink water. The Guanyin slave case had subjected all her companions to both physical and spiritual torture.
“Rise. I understand very well what the registrar has said.” Baozhu gestured for Shisan Lang to help up the leg-injured Yang Xingjian.
The reality was just this cruel. Even while trapped in Prince Qi’s mansion, she had clearly realized that though Li Yu and his accomplices had committed heinous and brutal crimes, the victims were either commoners or those of lowly status. Without other opportunities, with her current identity confronting them would undoubtedly be like throwing eggs at rocks—she couldn’t topple anyone.
Wei Xun interjected coldly: “Let me go—I’ll leave that place without even chickens or dogs.”
Baozhu gently shook her head: “Even if you dismember everyone in the prince’s mansion today, when reported it would only be ‘died at bandits’ hands.’ They’d find some Li-surnamed child to adopt and inherit Prince Qi’s title. Li Yu would still be buried with princely honors—perhaps His Majesty would mercifully decree his coffin be transported back to Chang’an for burial in the imperial mausoleum, near Mother. That’s an outcome I absolutely cannot tolerate.” She had to ensure her mother’s peace, whether in life or death.
Yang Xingjian’s face darkened as he stood with head bowed in shame.
Baozhu remained calm, saying indifferently: “Don’t worry. I never planned to impeach him using the charge of ‘kidnapping and slaughtering Guanyin slaves.'”
Yang Xingjian raised his head slightly, looking at her in confusion. The princess in his memory had been so prone to tears, sobbing at the slightest displeasure. This time after being rescued, he hadn’t seen her shed a single tear. Her eyes seemed to contain an unfathomably deep lake. Suddenly, a gleam of determination flashed beneath the dark water surface, like nighttime stars—cold and brilliant.
“I want to impeach him for the capital crime of treason, uproot Prince Qi’s mansion completely, and utterly erase this bloodline from the imperial genealogy.”
Then Baozhu detailed how she had incited Li Yu to forge armor and rehearse “Breaking Through Enemy Lines Dance” and “Yellow Lion Dance” in the prince’s mansion, every detail rehearsed countless times in her mind.
After listening, Yang Xingjian couldn’t help but pale with alarm. After long contemplation, he cautiously said: “But Li Yu didn’t dare use real yellow lions. As for the armor, it was only paper and rattan armor for dance performances—I fear it’s hard to constitute solid evidence of treason.”
Baozhu reminded him: “Has the registrar forgotten how Prince Yiyang lost power and died?”
Yang Xingjian recalled the long-buried bloody affair, saying with lingering fear: “It was for privately storing armor, committing the crime of treason…”
Baozhu stated: “You don’t know the inside story. Years ago, Prince Yiyang was old and frail. For unknown reasons, he undertook major construction far from the imperial mausoleum, carefully creating a tomb for himself beneath Zhongnan Mountain, specially commissioning elaborate burial goods.”
She paused, describing in detail: “It was a set of ceramic tri-colored armor. This matter was reported by his subordinates. His Majesty was furious and ordered a thorough investigation. After examination, they found his self-built tomb had exceeded regulations. Three feet—merely the tomb chamber’s width exceeded regulations by three feet—was considered a transgression, deceiving the emperor, greatly treasonous. That ceramic armor naturally became evidence of his rebellion. The court then continued digging deeper, listing all his past errors, great and small, light and serious, actually compiling twenty or thirty charges, finally resulting in his demotion to commoner status and execution.”
Baozhu revealed a cold smile: “Ceramic objects that shatter on impact and no one can wear—once they take the shape of armor, their significance becomes different. In the emperor’s view, Prince Yiyang secretly using ceramic armor as burial goods showed sinister intentions and treasonous plotting, planning to compete for the throne with him in the underworld after death—equivalent to treason.”
She fell silent for a moment, a self-mocking bitter smile appearing on her face: “Years after Prince Yiyang’s death, a princess who had been deeply favored in life was buried alive in his long-abandoned tomb. What could have aroused her imperial father’s suspicion?”
This question contained endless desolation. The room fell deathly silent, everyone struck mute by this heavy topic.
After a moment, she regained composure and began pointing out in detail how Yang Xingjian should write the impeachment letter, her voice light but carrying unquestionable authority.
“List according to the ten capital crimes recorded in the Legal Commentary—feel free to exaggerate. As long as the throne investigates thoroughly, no one in this world can be completely without weakness. Once imperial suspicion is aroused, whether ceramic, paper, or rattan armor—all constitute privately storing armor. Red lions, blue lions, colored lions—all constitute privately dancing yellow lions, all can become solid evidence of treason.”
Yang Xingjian felt breathless. He suddenly recalled a cruel fact long unmentioned: since this dynasty’s founding, those most skilled at slaughtering and purging the Li imperial clan were precisely fellow clansmen of the same Li-Wu bloodline. It was almost an instinct carved into their blood, innate, only waiting for the right opportunity to fully erupt and awaken.
He unconsciously licked his dry lips, raising a final objection: “Princess, impeachments must be submitted with real names—anonymous accusations aren’t permitted. If I impeach Li Yu as an official of Prince Shao’s mansion, wouldn’t that drag my master into this muddy water?”
Baozhu replied calmly and composedly: “The registrar needn’t worry. You only need to draft it—as for who will file the real-name impeachment, I already have a suitable candidate in mind.”
She remembered being forced to drag her shackles and dance the paired Zhezhi dance on stage with Mi Moyan. The disgusting gazes from below the stage were like countless steel needles piercing her skin. Humiliation, fear, rage—inch by inch devouring her flesh, a hundred, a thousand times more painful than her peeling sunburn.
Baozhu touched the strand of golden hair beside her pillow. Its owner’s graceful, mesmerizing dance steps were no longer in this world. She tightly grasped the bequeathed memento, saying coldly:
“Fabricating accusations, eliminating dissidents, sowing discord, cutting grass and pulling roots—either you die or I live. These are the ‘dances’ belonging to people like us. Now it’s their turn to dance madly according to my rules.”
Author’s Notes: The idea of purchasing armor as burial goods, being reported, and then forced to confess treason was inspired by the Western Han power minister Zhou Yafu.