New Year’s Eve

In Linde Hall of the Daming Palace, the annual New Year’s Eve banquet was in full swing. The sounds of string and bamboo instruments filled the air as cups were exchanged in toasts. Dancing girls from the Imperial Entertainment Bureau, dressed in Hun-style garments, performed the whirling Huxuan dance with graceful movements. As the dancers increased their spinning speed, the ministers at the banquet cheered with growing excitement.

A young official wearing a crimson robe watched the performance intently. Only after the Huxuan dance ended did he absently pick up a piece of golden milk pastry from the food table. After taking a bite, he suddenly noticed that the seat beside him was empty.

“Hmm? Where did Junior Minister Cui go?” he asked.

Another fourth-rank official next to him laughed. “Could it be that Director Wang still hopes for Cui Xun to be here?”

That Director Wang’s face reddened. He glanced at the Emperor sitting in the main seat and stammered, “That’s not what I meant. It’s just that His Majesty is hosting this banquet, and for Junior Minister Cui to leave his seat without permission seems inappropriate.”

“Hmph, at this New Year’s Eve banquet, only Cui Xun would dare to leave his seat without permission.”

Other nearby officials who overheard began to condemn the absent Junior Minister Cui Xun: “Cui Xun simply has no respect for his sovereign. How outrageous!”

“Be careful with your words, Academic Lu. Just a few months ago, Commander Zhou Ping made a few drunk comments about Cui Xun and was promptly fabricated with charges and locked up in the Investigation Department. He still hasn’t been released…”

“A petty man like him—why should I fear him?”

“Academic Lu, although you come from the prestigious Lu family of Fanyang, haven’t numerous noble families been destroyed by Cui Xun in recent years?”

Academic Lu fell silent. After a while, he finally squeezed words through his teeth: “Of the five great surnames in the world—Cui, Lu, Li, Zheng, and Wang—the Cui clan of Boling stands as the foremost of noble families and the crown of aristocracy. Yet how could they produce such a disgrace as Cui Xun! Not only did he cowardly surrender to the Turks, but he also became the Empress Dowager’s bedchamber attendant just to save his own life. He frames court officials, harms loyal subjects, reverses right and wrong, and confuses black and white—there is no evil he hasn’t committed. He is truly the shame of the Boling Cui clan!”

Academic Lu grew increasingly agitated as he spoke, his voice becoming so loud that even the princes at the other end of the hall turned to look at him. An official sitting closest to him quickly pressed down on his arm and whispered, “Academic Lu, Cui Xun is the head of the Investigation Department. You know what kind of place that is? They even know exactly when we visit the Pingkang entertainment district, let alone what we say at this crowded New Year’s Eve banquet. We should speak cautiously!”

Another official besides Academic Lu also restrained him: “Indeed, Cui Xun is ruthless and vindictive. Who in this court doesn’t want to eat his flesh and drink his blood? But what can we do when the Empress Dowager favors him so?”

Academic Lu knew well that he could not shake Cui Xun’s position. He could only sigh deeply: “That such a villain could run rampant in our Great Zhou court! I wonder when we will ever see the day when the clouds part and the moon shines clear!”

The Director Wang who had first brought up the topic quietly said, “Soon.”

Everyone looked toward him, and Director Wang hurriedly continued: “Gentlemen, Cui Xun curries favor with the Empress Dowager through his looks. Those who serve with beauty lose favor when their beauty fades. Though Cui Xun is dazzlingly handsome and bears the name ‘Lotus Flower Gentleman,’ even the most beautiful face will eventually bore the Empress Dowager. When that day comes, the skies will clear, the earth will be peaceful, and the seas and rivers will run clear.”

Everyone pondered this silently and nodded in agreement. Thus, they all inwardly hoped the Empress Dowager would soon tire of Cui Xun, so that this cruel official would receive his just punishment and the court could return to peace.

Meanwhile, Cui Xun—the very subject of everyone’s discussion—was drinking alone by the Lotus Pond in the palace. This pond had long been abandoned, with green algae growing at its four corners and a few withered lotus plants standing lonely in the center, appearing particularly desolate. In the moonlight, Cui Xun tilted his head back to drink a cup of spring wine in one gulp. Under the cold moonlight, the neck of this so-called villain was as long, white, and graceful as a crane’s. With slightly lowered eyelids, his features were strikingly beautiful, even possessing an androgynous allure. Just as Director Wang had said, his appearance was dazzling, truly living up to the name “Lotus Flower Gentleman.” If one had to find a flaw in his appearance, it might be his lack of color—his skin was as pale as snow, even whiter than the white fox fur of the cloak wrapped around his body.

After drinking the spring wine, Cui Xun couldn’t help but cough twice into his sleeve. He lowered his sleeve and gazed absently at the bright moon above. His eyes tilted slightly upward—though they were bewitching phoenix eyes, they contained not the slightest trace of emotion. The sounds of string and bamboo instruments from the New Year’s Eve banquet echoed in waves, while the scents of agarwood and sandalwood burning in Linde Hall drifted beyond Danfeng Gate. The exorcism dance teams on Zhuque Street created a bustling clamor—the extreme noise formed a stark contrast with the eerie tranquility of this Lotus Pond.

Cui Xun picked up the silver wine pitcher from the ground, poured it into the gold cup, and drained it in one go. After several cups, he was somewhat drunk. When pouring another cup, his hand slipped, and the gold cup rolled into the Lotus Pond with a splash.

With bleary eyes, Cui Xun reached into the pond to retrieve the cup. But instead of grabbing the gold cup, his hand touched something smooth and cold.

This thing was soft like silk, not the gold cup, but rather like human skin. When this object touched Cui Xun’s palm, it slowly opened, pressing against his palm and intertwining with his fingers, just like a woman’s delicate, boneless, slender hand intimately crossing fingers with her lover.

Cui Xun heard a soft, ethereal sigh from beneath the water: “I’ve been waiting for you.”

If it had been anyone else, they would have fled in terror, but Cui Xun merely frowned slightly, his expression unchanged. Just then, a palace eunuch carrying a lantern came searching for him, calling out “Junior Minister Cui” along the way. The hand beneath the water slowly released Cui Xun’s palm, but he raised an eyebrow and reached down to grab the underwater slender hand. Instead, he retrieved the gold cup that had fallen into the Lotus Pond.

When the eunuch saw Cui Xun, he was overjoyed and hurried over: “Junior Minister Cui, this servant has finally found you! The Empress Dowager has arrived at the New Year’s Eve banquet and is asking about you.”

Cui Xun stared absently at the gold cup in his hand. The eunuch called “Junior Minister Cui” twice more before he came to his senses. He casually tossed the gold cup aside and wrapped his fox fur cloak tighter around himself. The pure white fox fur made his face look even paler, almost transparent. He covered his mouth with the back of his hand and coughed lightly twice, then lowered his thin wrist and slowly stood up, his expression cold: “Let’s go.”

After just two steps, he turned back to look at the abandoned Lotus Pond. The pond water was perfectly still, without even a ripple, as if nothing had happened moments ago. Cui Xun’s gaze remained calm as he turned his head and continued following the eunuch toward Linde Hall.

When they reached Linde Hall, Cui Xun was about to enter, but the eunuch, eager to curry favor, advised him: “Junior Minister Cui, if others ask where you’ve been, please don’t say you went to the Lotus Pond.”

“Oh? Why not?”

The eunuch mysteriously replied: “Doesn’t the Junior Minister know? That Lotus Pond is Princess Yong’an’s…”

The eunuch hesitated, but Cui Xun understood his meaning.

This Lotus Pond was Princess Yong’an’s place of death.

Princess Yong’an, named Li Ying, was the beloved daughter of the Late Emperor and the Empress Dowager—the Empress Dowager’s first child. Legend had it that when she was born, her skin was fair and her features lovely, like a pearl giving off a halo. The Late Emperor and Empress Dowager loved her deeply and gifted her the milk name “Bright Moon Pearl” from the seven treasures in Buddhist scriptures, while bestowing her with the princess title “Yong’an” (Eternal Peace). As the princess grew older, the Late Emperor even granted her the wealthiest prefecture of Great Zhou, Guangling, as her fief, demonstrating the Late Emperor’s adoration for his daughter.

By the time Princess Yong’an turned sixteen, she had grown into a transcendently beautiful woman with the grace of an immortal and the substance of jade, her radiance moving the entire realm. More precious still was the princess’s kind and sensible nature, completely lacking the typical arrogance of Great Zhou princesses. Whenever the Late Emperor became angry, the princess would always intercede, sparing many palace servants and officials from punishment. Palace servants and officials were grateful for the princess’s kindness and privately praised her as Great Zhou’s most brilliant Bright Moon Pearl.

Yet this brightest pearl of the Great Zhou perished forever at the age of sixteen.

When the princess was fifteen, the Late Emperor selected Tribute Scholar Zheng Yun as her consort. Zheng Yun came from the Zheng clan of Xingyang, nephew to the Late Emperor’s primary wife, Empress Zheng. His status was noble, his appearance handsome, and his literary talents outstanding—truly an exceptional match. However, the Late Emperor and Empress Dowager were reluctant to part with the princess and wanted her to stay a few more years before marrying. But when the princess was sixteen, on the sixth day of the tenth month in the twentieth year of Taichang, she mysteriously drowned in the palace’s Lotus Pond at night. The Late Emperor and Empress Dowager were devastated; the Late Emperor even refused food and drink for days, inconsolable with grief. Court officials discussed the matter extensively, all believing that the princess’s death was highly suspicious. How would the princess go to the Lotus Pond alone at night? And of all her attendants and palace maids, how could none have accompanied her? Some bold officials had already memorialized the Late Emperor, hoping to uncover the truth behind the princess’s death.

The officials all saw that the matter was suspicious—how could the Late Emperor not know? In his grief, the Late Emperor secretly ordered the Ministry of Justice to investigate thoroughly. Unexpectedly, the investigation revealed that the princess’s death was caused by the Prince Consort-designate, Zheng Yun.

When this fact emerged, everyone was stunned. Under the Ministry of Justice’s interrogation, Zheng Yun confessed readily. It turned out that his family, the Zheng clan of Xingyang, was one of the five great aristocratic families. People said that among the noble families in the world, none surpassed Cui, Lu, Li, Zheng, and Wang. The Zheng clan of Xingyang was the most prestigious noble family in Great Zhou, while the princess’s mother, the Empress Dowager, who was still Consort Jiang at the time, came from humble origins, her father merely a small merchant. Zheng Yun deeply despised this and was unwilling to marry the daughter of Consort Jiang—Princess Yong’an. But the Late Emperor’s decree had already been issued, and Zheng Yun could not refuse the imperial order. Yet in his heart, he was profoundly unwilling, and this unwillingness accumulated day by day, eventually turning into hatred toward the princess.

On the sixth day of the tenth month, Zheng Yun gathered with some friends, during which his friends mocked the princess’s humble origins, saying Zheng Yun would soon have a merchant’s daughter as his wife. Humiliated and enraged, Zheng Yun developed murderous intentions toward the princess. He wrote a letter to the princess, claiming he had a secret matter to discuss at the Lotus Pond and asking her to come alone. The princess must have gone with great joy to meet her fiancé, dressed in splendid attire with rainbow robes and elegant clothes, never expecting that she was going to a fatal appointment.

Zheng Yun pushed the princess, who couldn’t swim, into the Lotus Pond. Watching her float and sink in the pond, crying for help, he fled in panic. When he sobered up, he was filled with regret, but the terrible mistake had been made—the princess’s soul had already departed, and the Bright Moon Pearl was gone from the world forever.

After Zheng Yun’s confession, the Late Emperor was furious. Not only did he have Zheng Yun beheaded and his body displayed in the market, but he also directed his anger at Zheng Yun’s relatives and at Empress Zheng, who had recommended Zheng Yun as the Prince Consort. He issued an edict deposing Empress Zheng and ordered the execution of the Prince Consort’s nine clans of relatives. But how could the prestigious Zheng clan of Xingyang be treated so? When this edict was issued, noble families throughout the realm submitted memorials pleading for mercy for the Prince Consort’s clan. The Late Emperor had them all executed. Blood flowed like rivers in Chang’an city, with over ten thousand dead. The Zheng clan of Xingyang never recovered from this blow. History records this as the “Taichang Blood Incident.”

After the Taichang Blood Incident, the Late Emperor developed a deep hatred for noble families. Commoners began to serve as generals and ministers, and the court was no longer a place where high positions were exclusive to aristocrats and low positions were never filled by commoners.

Cui Xun recalled this bloody incident that had transformed Great Zhou’s political landscape thirty years ago. He frowned slightly and raised his hand to look at his palm, which seemed to still retain the temperature of whoever had been in the Lotus Pond. Despite such a strange occurrence, his eyes remained as calm as a still well. He pressed his lips together, coughed lightly into his sleeve twice, then tightened his white fox fur cloak around himself and slowly walked into Linde Hall.