Wang Ranxi repeatedly cried and pleaded, repeatedly persuaded. She said that once Li Ying was dead, they could be together again. Under her constant pressure, Zheng Yun finally agreed. Wang Ranxi found an accomplice in the palace, a maid from the Imperial Wardrobe Bureau named Wang Tuan’er, who had previously been a servant in her household. Wang Tuan’er initially refused adamantly, but Wang Ranxi coerced her with reminders of past kindness, and Wang Tuan’er fearfully agreed.
Wang Ranxi and Zheng Yun’s plan was for Zheng Yun to write a letter to Li Ying, inviting her to meet at the Lotus Pond at night. Li Ying, being modest, would certainly not tell any palace maids about meeting her betrothed, nor would she bring any maids with her. Once Li Ying arrived at the Lotus Pond, Wang Tuan’er, who would be following her, would push her into the pond, creating the appearance that Li Ying had accidentally fallen and drowned.
The plan was not perfect, but ultimately, Wang Ranxi and Zheng Yun were just two privileged children of noble families, not born conspirators. As Zheng Yun and Li Ying’s wedding day approached, this plan had to be carried out regardless of its flaws.
Yet somehow, this deeply flawed plan succeeded.
Li Ying murmured, “If it was Wang Tuan’er who pushed me, why didn’t Zheng Yun implicate her?”
Cui Xun paused, then directed her question to Wang Ranxi: “Then why did Zheng Yun take all the blame in the end?”
Wang Ranxi’s tears flowed profusely: “Why did he take all the blame? Yes, I wonder that too. Why did he do that? I want to tell myself it was because he cared for me, so he covered up my crime. But I know that wasn’t the case!”
She raved wildly, tilting her head to look at Cui Xun: “He took all the blame because he wanted to die. And why did he want to die? Because he wanted to die for love of Li Ying!”
The night of the sixth day of the tenth month.
It was supposed to be an ordinary night. Wang Ranxi and Zheng Yun were waiting for news at a tavern, but Zheng Yun was restless. Wang Ranxi poured him wine, but he wouldn’t drink.
He paced anxiously, then finally rushed out, mounting his horse. Wang Ranxi chased after him, grabbing the reins: “Cousin, what are you doing?”
“I’m going to save her!”
Wang Ranxi was thunderstruck: “What did you say? You’re going to save her?”
“We were wrong,” Zheng Yun’s eyes reddened. “She shouldn’t die! She shouldn’t die!”
Wang Ranxi couldn’t believe it: “You dare to go? I risked my life to do this with you, and now at the last moment, you say you want to save her?”
“Cousin, I have wronged you! But none of this is her fault. Let me bear all the sins alone!”
With these words, Zheng Yun whipped his horse, which galloped like lightning toward Daming Palace. Wang Ranxi was thrown to the ground. When she got up, her whole body ached, and her face was ashen: “He’s gone mad, he’s gone mad…”
He wanted to save the person he had planned to kill.
During Chang’an’s curfew, Zheng Yun had an imperial purple-gold fish pouch bestowed by Emperor Taichang, allowing him to move about at night and enter the palace. He rode at full speed, raising dust as he galloped through the night, all to save the betrothed he was supposed to kill. But unfortunately, when he reached the Lotus Pond, it was already too late. He only saw Li Ying’s body floating on the water’s surface.
He was thunderstruck, kneeling on the ground, covering his face as he wept. He wanted to retrieve Li Ying’s body, but hearing people approaching, he fled in panic.
He was afraid—afraid to face Emperor Taichang, afraid to face Consort Jiang, and most of all, afraid to face Li Ying.
He was so distraught and terrified that when Cui Songqing arrested him and took him to the Dali Temple, he offered no defense, taking all the blame and seeking only death.
Wang Ranxi sobbed: “Zheng Yun, that heartless, unfaithful man! Did he think I would be grateful because he didn’t implicate me? Pah! He was the one who swore that if he betrayed me, his family would be destroyed and he would die without an intact corpse. Now his oath has come true. Did he expect me to be foolish enough to confess and join him? No, I refused. I was determined to marry a suitable husband and let him see from the underworld the consequences of betraying me!”
“With Zheng Yun dead, only one person knew of my crime—Wang Tuan’er. She killed Li Ying and lived in constant fear. I lured her out and, using the dagger Zheng Yun had given me, stabbed her again and again. When she died, her eyes couldn’t even close. She probably never imagined that the mistress she was so grateful to would ultimately kill her to silence her.”
Cui Xun asked gravely: “After killing Wang Tuan’er, you abandoned her body in the wilderness?”
“That wasn’t me. How could a delicate woman like me have such capability? It was Pei Guanyue. He was a seventh-rank honor guard captain at the time. He noticed Wang Tuan’er’s unusual demeanor when she left the palace and secretly followed her, coincidentally witnessing me killing her. He then blackmailed me, demanding I marry him, or else he would report me. How could I risk being reported? Once reported, the matter of killing Li Ying would certainly be exposed. So I had no choice but to agree to become the wife of this lowborn man. In return, he helped me dispose of Wang Tuan’er’s body, burying it in the wilderness. At that time, both the court and the palace were in bloodshed over the Princess’s death, and no one noticed the disappearance of an Imperial Wardrobe Bureau maid. Thus, I have lived peacefully for thirty years.”
During these thirty years, she had done more than just live peacefully. She had actively schemed for her husband’s career advancement, plotting and planning, living better and better. One wonders if, in her midnight dreams, she ever thought of her cousin Zheng Yun, whom she had incited and who ultimately was beheaded.
Cui Xun finally asked: “Did Pei Guanyue know you killed Princess Yong’an?”
Wang Ranxi snorted: “Maybe he knew, maybe he didn’t. Who knows? He never asked. All he needed was the status of being the son-in-law of the Wang clan of Taiyuan.”
Li Ying suddenly felt cold. She pulled her fire-fox fur robe tighter and said softly: “I don’t want to hear any more. Let’s go.”
Cui Xun nodded and turned to leave with her. Wang Ranxi became anxious, rushing to the wall and pounding on the iron window: “Inspector Cui, you can’t leave! If you leave, Princess Yong’an and Wang Tuan’er will come haunt me again!”
Cui Xun turned back and mocked: “You weren’t afraid to kill, but you’re afraid of ghosts?”
Wang Ranxi was speechless. She could only continue to beg: “I’ve confessed everything as you asked. Save me! Save me!”
Cui Xun glanced at her and threw something through the iron window. Wang Ranxi picked it up as if it were a treasure, cradling it in her palms and chanting “Om Mani Padme Hum.” Looking closely, Li Ying saw it was a string of small-leaf purple sandalwood prayer beads.
Such an evil person, yet holding consecrated prayer beads and chanting the six-syllable mantra, praying for Buddha’s protection. Li Ying’s heart was filled with indescribable feelings. She gave a bitter smile, pulled her fire-fox fur robe tight, and left without looking back.
By the time they returned to the Cui Residence, though the injustice had been clarified, the tea had gone cold.
Li Ying, perhaps not yet recovered from the shock of suddenly learning the truth, sat dazed at the desk, not saying a word. Cui Xun did not speak to her either. Instead, he prepared the tea implements anew—roasting the tea, grinding it, sifting it, arranging the ingredients, adding the tea, brewing it, and distributing it. His long, beautiful fingers moved with elegant detachment as he performed the tea ceremony, making one forget he was a cruel official reviled by all, and see only the young master of the Cui clan of Boling, the crown of the scholar-official families.
Cui Xun handed the prepared tea to Li Ying: “Have some tea.”
Li Ying was in no mood for tea. She accepted it absently, not savoring it slowly but drinking it all in one gulp. Cui Xun glanced at her and said, “The Princess has avenged her great hatred. Why don’t I see joy on your face?”
Li Ying put down the silver teacup and smiled bitterly: “During these thirty years, I’ve imagined many times what I would feel when I found the murderer. Would I be happy or satisfied? But now that I’ve finally found the murderer, I discover I’m neither happy nor satisfied. Instead, my heart feels heavy.”
She murmured, “I don’t know why I feel this way. Inspector Cui, can you understand?”
But after asking, she shook her head: “No, you certainly wouldn’t understand.”
To be murdered by her fiancé and his lover, with the truth only coming to light thirty years later—but what difference did the truth make? She was still dead, forever separated from her father and mother. She would never see them again.
This contradictory and painful feeling after revenge, Cui Xun had never experienced. How could she expect him to understand?
As Li Ying murmured to herself, she didn’t notice Cui Xun gradually tightening his grip on the flowered teacup. He lowered his head, took a sip of tea, and said calmly: “Indeed, I don’t understand.”
Li Ying remained silent. Cui Xun lowered his head, gently swirling the tea in his cup, watching the ripples form: “If tea gets cold, it can be brewed again. But once a person dies, they can never return.”
Li Ying gently pursed her lips. Looking at the emerald-green tea in Cui Xun’s cup, she felt a sense of loss. She felt as if Cui Xun was talking about her, yet not about her. She recalled Wang Ranxi’s confession in the prison cell, Zheng Yun’s face from thirty years ago, and Wang Ranxi’s face thirty years later, gradually overlapping. Thirty years of love, hate, greed, and anger—it all seemed like a dream.
Now, it was time to wake from the dream.
And she should seek her next life.
Li Ying looked up and asked Cui Xun: “What will happen to Wang Ranxi? Will her husband come to save her?”
“He wouldn’t dare,” Cui Xun said. “He’s a clever man. He won’t jeopardize his promising future for Wang Ranxi.”
Li Ying sighed in relief: “Will Wang Ranxi be punished?”
“I will report this matter to the Empress Dowager and His Majesty. The Empress Dowager loves the Princess dearly; in her thunderous anger, she will certainly execute Wang Ranxi.”
Li Ying nodded: “Once she dies, I can be reborn.”
As a person who died unjustly, once those who plotted against her received their due punishment, her resentment would dissipate, and she could be reincarnated, no longer wandering lonely in this world.
She looked up at Cui Xun: “I must go now, Inspector Cui. Thank you.”
She gazed at Cui Xun, and he gazed back at her. He could even see his reflection in her clear, crystal-like eyes—pale, with gloomy, intense eyes, melancholy and fierce.
The very image of an evil spirit crawled out from the netherworld.
Cui Xun lowered his head, no longer looking at her. Holding his teacup, he took a small sip and said: “Humans can be more evil than ghosts. I hope, Princess, that you will never encounter evil people again.”
“Yes,” Li Ying nodded. “I never did anything bad in my life. I think in my next life, I won’t be so unfortunate.”
Cui Xun was using the copper fire tongs to remove the unburned charcoal from the tea stove. He said: “In your next life, don’t encounter someone weak like Zheng Yun, don’t encounter someone vicious like Wang Ranxi, don’t encounter someone foolishly loyal like Wang Tuan’er.”
He removed the last piece of dark red lychee charcoal: “And most of all, don’t encounter someone like me.”