The skies had cleared after midday, and before I knew it, early winter had arrived once more.

I had been sensitive to cold since childhood, and always fell ill more often during autumn and winter. Some time ago I had caught a chill and was bedridden for half a month. Today I seemed quite a bit better. When Xiao Qi mentioned that Jingjing had been fussing loudly that it had been so long since he had seen his Aunt, I roused myself and went to the palace to visit him.

The moment I stepped through the palace hall doors I heard Jingjing’s bright, delighted laughter. I looked up, and was immediately overcome with mingled alarm and indignation — he was astride his wet nurse’s back, slapping at her as she carried him around the hall in a “horse ride,” all the while making the sound of horses being spurred on, with a crowd of palace maids surrounding him, cheering enthusiastically for the little Emperor, the whole group making a commotion in Qianyuan Hall. Even as I approached the hall doorway, not a single attendant had announced my arrival.

“Your Majesty!” I said coldly. “What do you think you are doing?”

The entire hall’s worth of palace attendants suddenly saw me standing in the doorway and scrambled into a kneeling chaos, prostrating themselves in a disorderly rush, not one daring to raise their head. When Jingjing spotted me, he leaped down from the wet nurse’s back at once, and came running toward me with a bright giggle. “Aunt, carry me!” Seeing his steps still unsteady and faltering, I hurried forward and caught him in outstretched arms, holding him close. He immediately wrapped his arms tightly around my neck and refused to let go no matter what. I had no choice but to strain to lift him — my arms felt the weight at once, for this child who had once been no bigger than a kitten had grown so much.

I put on a stern expression as I looked at him. “His Majesty was not well-behaved today. Aunt has told you before — no wandering off on your own, no falling down. Have you remembered that?” Jingjing’s round dark eyes darted quickly to one side, and he lowered his head without a word, pressing his little face against my chest and rubbing it back and forth in a wheedling, coquettish manner. “Your Majesty!” I extricated myself from him in mild exasperation, bewildered at where he had learned this sort of cunning. This little child already knew how to read expressions — knowing that I indulged him, he would act petulantly and cling whenever it suited him. Only when Xiao Qi was present would he consent to behave. The wet nurse stepped forward and held out a little cape embroidered with round golden dragons, saying with a gentle smile, “His Majesty is always so happy when the Princess Consort comes — he doesn’t even mind falling down.”

I settled Jingjing on my lap and turned to look at the wet nurse. “Who taught His Majesty to ride someone as if they were a horse?”

The wet nurse knelt down hastily and kowtowed. “Please forgive me, Princess Consort! Your servant would never dare do it again! Your servant only wanted to make His Majesty happy…”

“To make His Majesty happy?” I raised an eyebrow and was just about to reprimand her when I heard Jingjing look up and giggle, “Horse ride! The Prince rides a horse ride, His Majesty wants one too!”

The truth became clear to me at once. Xiao Qi had once held him while riding a horse, and Jingjing had never forgotten it since. We had spent ages trying to teach him to call Xiao Qi “Uncle” by marriage, but he would only call him “the Prince” as he heard everyone else do. And hearing everyone call him “Your Majesty,” he had concluded that his own name was “Your Majesty.” I was caught between laughter and tears — I had just arranged my face into a stern expression to scold him, and now I could not hold back a laugh.

Seeing me laugh, Jingjing became gleefully mischievous at once, squirming left and right in my arms and reaching out to grab at the dangling pearl-adorned hairpin trembling at my temple. I was listening to the wet nurse’s detailed report on Jingjing’s daily routine when, in an unguarded moment, his hand caught hold of a strand of my hair and pulled the hairpin out. The wet nurse moved quickly to take him from me, but he laughed cheerfully, clutching that phoenix-head pearl-clasped hairpin and refusing to let it go. My hair was now in disarray, and I had no way to deal with him. I heard the wet nurse laugh, “Truly a charming little Emperor — at such a young age he already knows how to tease a beauty.” Her words drew smothered laughter from everyone present. Jingjing, still clutching the hairpin, waved his arms and bounced his legs with glee, as though he had gotten hold of a beloved treasure.

I sighed and had no choice but to stand up to re-arrange my hair. “Bring back the hairpin — the Emperor should not be playing with such things.”

The wet nurse bent down to retrieve the pearl hairpin, but Jingjing dodged left and right, refusing to hand it over. The wet nurse, at her wit’s end, could only say, “If Your Majesty will not give it over, your servant will have to presume to take it.”

“You dare!” Jingjing shrieked in his high, delicate voice — and for a moment it had something of the willfulness his brother Zi Long had shown as a child.

I turned with a rueful smile to the mirror, loosened my hairbun and was about to re-style it when suddenly a cry of pain erupted from behind me, and the palace maids on either side let out a chorus of screams. I whirled around in shock to see Jingjing wave the hairpin past the wet nurse’s face — from eye socket to cheek, the sharp tip of the pin had drawn a deep gash. The wet nurse’s face was covered in blood as she cried out in pain and crumpled to the ground! Everyone around was stunned into momentary paralysis — before anyone could collect themselves, Jingjing was himself frightened, and spun on his heel and ran.

“Someone, stop the Emperor!” I cried out in alarm, dropping my jade comb and running after Jingjing. The attendants on either side rushed to close in, but the more they surrounded him, the more afraid Jingjing became. He turned and bolted toward the jade steps outside the hall. The inner eunuchs had all dashed into the hall, leaving the doorway with no one standing guard, and the palace guards on the outer steps were stationed too far away. Right before our eyes, Jingjing stumbled and lurched toward the jade steps. My heart leaped with dread, a sinking premonition rising in my chest. I cried out involuntarily, “Jingjing, don’t—”

Before the words were out of my mouth, that tiny figure teetered on the steps — lost his footing — and plunged forward head-first.

“Your Majesty!” A chorus of horrified screams rang out from the palace attendants on every side, and chaos erupted on the outer steps.

My legs gave way beneath me and I fell to the ground, my whole body shaking violently. For a long moment I could not form a complete sentence. “His Majesty… summon… the imperial physicians… quickly!”

A eunuch lifted the child from the base of the steps and rushed back into the hall in a panic. The child lay limp in his arms, not crying, not moving.

My heart went utterly cold. My hands and feet had no strength. Supported by a palace maid to the child’s side, I looked and saw that the child’s face was as pale as paper, his lips faintly bluish, and from his nostril there trickled a thin line of bright red blood.

The five Chief Physicians of the Imperial Medical Office completed their examination and had just withdrawn from the inner chamber when Xiao Qi arrived, having heard the news. I quickly rose from my chair and urgently asked the imperial physicians, “How serious are the Emperor’s injuries?”

The physicians exchanged glances, each looking uneasy and apprehensive. The head physician, Imperial Physician Fu, furrowed his brow and reported, “In reply to the Princess Consort: His Majesty has not yet regained consciousness. According to our examination, His Majesty’s internal organs and bones are without major injury, but at the moment his neck made contact with the ground, the shock disrupted the meridians and channels. The blood and vital energy are obstructed, and the wind-evil has invaded inward, accumulating and suppressing…” Xiao Qi cut him off, asking in a deep, quiet voice, “Is his life in danger or not?”

Imperial Physician Fu replied in a trembling voice, “His Majesty’s life is not in danger, only — only this subject dare not speak rashly!”

My heart immediately tightened. Xiao Qi said in a cold, even tone, “Speak plainly.”

“His Majesty is still young and was already constitutionally deficient from birth — his physical constitution was already frail. After this severe injury, it is feared he may be difficult to fully restore to his former condition. Even if he is able to function normally in daily life going forward, his mental faculties may be diminished, making him unlike ordinary people.” The elderly imperial physician pressed his forehead to the floor, cold sweat streaming down him.

I slumped back into my chair, covering my face, as though falling into an ice-cold abyss. Xiao Qi also fell into silence and simply placed his hand gently on my shoulder, taking a long moment before slowly speaking. “Is there any possibility of a cure?”

All five imperial physicians were silent. Xiao Qi clasped his hands behind his back and turned toward the nine-dragon screen, lost in thought. For a moment, the hall fell silent as death, and the dense, heavy shadows pressing in from all sides made it hard to breathe.

Xiao Qi lifted his hand in a gesture of dismissal. After the physicians and all other attendants had withdrawn, he stepped quietly to my side and said gently, “Misfortune and blessing are beyond predicting. There is no need to blame yourself overmuch.”

I rested my head in my hands in despondency, unable to speak, and without any tears — only an aching emptiness in my chest. I wanted to go and look in on Jingjing, yet had absolutely no strength to do so.

“Compose yourself — right now neither you nor I can afford to lose our clarity.” Xiao Qi bent down to take hold of my shoulders, his voice quiet and level, yet filled with a resolute strength.

I raised my eyes in a daze and met his stern, penetrating gaze, feeling an immediate jolt in my heart. A thousand disordered thoughts were instantly illuminated as though by a blinding light.

The court and the palace had only just begun to settle into stability, with people’s hearts just beginning to find their footing again — they could not endure another round of upheaval and turmoil. The moment word spread that the Emperor had been seriously injured, court and public alike would be thrown into an uproar. Here was the Emperor, perfectly fine in his chambers — how could he suddenly be injured? Who would believe it was truly just an accident? Even with Xiao Qi’s towering authority and influence, he would find it hard to silence all the voices — and what was more, a feeble-minded little Emperor could not possibly bear the weight of the country and the altars of state. If Jingjing were deposed, would the throne pass to Zidan? And if Zidan took the throne, would the old party revive from its ashes?

I looked steadily at Xiao Qi. My ice-cold hands were gripped firmly in his, and the warmth and strength transmitted from his palms gradually restored my composure — even as a deeper chill spread through my heart.

He looked at me steadily and asked in a quiet, even tone, “Who else knows of His Majesty’s injury?”

“Aside from the five imperial physicians, only the palace staff of Qianyuan Hall.” I answered, the words coming with difficulty.

Xiao Qi immediately ordered Qianyuan Hall sealed off, forbidding any palace attendant from stepping outside the hall doors. Then he summoned the five imperial physicians into the inner chamber once more.

“I have just personally examined His Majesty, and his injuries are not as serious as Imperial Physician Fu described.” Xiao Qi’s face was expressionless, his gaze passing over each physician in turn — deep and unfathomable. “Gentlemen, are you quite certain your diagnosis is accurate?”

The five imperial physicians exchanged glances. Though it was the onset of winter, sweat ran freely down their backs. Imperial Physician Fu lay prostrate on the ground, his beard and hair trembling slightly, beads of sweat rolling from his temples. In a shaking voice he said, “Yes. This old subject’s diagnosis is accurate.”

I spoke up quietly. “The matter is of great gravity, Imperial Physician Fu — be certain you have thought it through carefully.”

Suddenly, Physician Zhang, who had been kneeling nervously toward the back, shuffled forward on his knees to Xiao Qi’s feet and kowtowed heavily. “May it please Your Highness: this subject’s diagnosis differs from Imperial Physician Fu’s. In this subject’s assessment, His Majesty’s injury is to the muscles and bones and is in fact nothing serious — half a month of rest and recuperation should be sufficient for a full recovery.” Another medical officer also hastily prostrated himself. “This subject’s diagnosis is the same as Imperial Physician Zhang’s. Imperial Physician Fu’s assessment is, in fact, a misdiagnosis.” Imperial Physician Fu’s body gave a slight start, his complexion going instantly white — yet he kept his head lowered in silence.

The remaining two imperial physicians looked at each other in dismay and hesitated for only a moment before also kowtowing. “This subject concurs with Imperial Physician Zhang’s opinion.”

“Imperial Physician Fu — what is your view?” I asked him warmly, still hoping to give him one final opportunity to choose.

After a moment of silence, the white-haired Imperial Physician Fu slowly raised his head and said, “A physician has his duty. This minister cannot speak falsely.”

I turned my face away and sighed in silence, unwilling to look further at those white-haired, silver-bearded features. Xiao Qi’s expression became increasingly somber as he nodded and said, “Imperial Physician Fu, this Prince holds you in the deepest respect as a man.”

“This old subject has served beside the throne for more than thirty years. Life and death, honor and disgrace — I have long since made my peace with them all. To receive His Highness’s gracious praise today fills this aged heart with comfort.” The old imperial physician straightened himself upright, and his expression was composed and serene. “This subject only asks that His Highness, in his magnanimity, permit this old subject’s family to return to their hometown as commoners and live out their days in peace.”

“You may be at ease — I will certainly treat your family with generosity.” Xiao Qi nodded solemnly.

That night, Imperial Physician Fu took his own life by poison under the charge of misdiagnosis. All the palace staff of Qianyuan Hall were imprisoned for the offense of failing to protect the Emperor. I replaced all the attendants at the young Emperor’s side and installed people I trusted completely.

The upheaval of the young Emperor’s accidental fall and injury was thus brought to rest. After he healed, he was carried by me into the court hall every day as usual, and everything appeared the same as before. Only this child, once so rosy-cheeked and jade-bright, would no longer be mischievous or laughing — he became from that day forward silent and vacant, like a little wooden doll.

Court officials continued to bow from afar each day before the small Son of Heaven seated behind the curtain. Apart from a small circle of trusted palace attendants, no one had the opportunity to approach the Emperor. Where previously Jingjing had gone to the Yong’an Palace every day to pay his morning respects to the Grand Empress Dowager, from this time forward I had the Emperor attend only on the first and fifteenth of every month, citing the Grand Empress Dowager’s need for rest to recuperate. Within the Yong’an Palace as well, only a handful of trusted palace attendants were permitted to come near the Emperor. Among Aunt’s attendants was a young palace maid called A’Yue, who had remained calm in the crisis and tested medicines on herself before anyone else. She had remained loyally devoted and scrupulous in all things ever since. As it happened, ever since Yuxiu had married out of my household, I had always been short of a capable right hand — so I brought A’Yue into the Wang Estate to serve and attend by my side.

Jingjing’s diminished mind became the greatest secret of the palace — though it was a secret that could not remain concealed forever. A young child might not reveal too much that seemed out of the ordinary, but as he grew older day by day, the truth would sooner or later come to light. Yet that interval of one or two years would be time enough for Xiao Qi to make his arrangements and preparations.

When the deep winter had passed and spring returned to the south with melting snows, the New Year had just gone by, and throughout the palace, lanterns and festive decorations were being hung in all directions — preparations were underway for the most festive Lantern Festival celebrations.

It was during these joyful and peaceful days that Prince Yuzhang, the Regent, issued an order to raise an army of three hundred thousand for a southern military campaign to suppress the rebel forces in Jiangnan.

The northern prefectures and counties were already under Xiao Qi’s control, while the southern territories…

When Zi Lu and Prince Chenghui were defeated and fled south to Jiangnan, they had taken refuge with Prince Jianzhang, whose domain was the most extensive and whose financial resources were the most abundant. Taking advantage of the political turmoil in the capital over these two years, with Xiao Qi too preoccupied to direct his attention southward, the imperial princes of Jiangnan had also managed to linger on. Since the Revolt of the Princes, the southern imperial clan had held a corner in seclusion, maintaining a prolonged standoff against the capital. The imperial princes and nobles held their own armies and defied central authority, their influence entangled with that of the great aristocratic families in an intricate web. In recent years, local administration had grown increasingly corrupt and the people’s livelihood had suffered greatly. After Zi Lu fled south, Xiao Qi had publicly held his troops back and refrained from pursuit, while privately keeping a watchful eye on the political situation in the south. From the beginning of the year, he had begun deploying and positioning his forces, drilling his troops and sharpening his weapons, and had quietly completed his preparations for the southern campaign. He was only waiting for the right moment — for when the time was ripe, he would sweep south in a single stroke and rid the land of the southern imperial clan once and for all.

Xiao Qi had originally set the southern campaign for after spring. However, half a month earlier, the strategic Linliang Pass — which controlled the sole road out of the capital — had in the space of two days captured seven spies in succession. Two of these had failed in their attempts at suicide, one had died of his wounds, and the remaining four had all confessed to the identities of those behind them. The enfeoffed Prince Fengyuan within the capital had been secretly communicating with Prince Jianzhang in Jiangnan and acting as an informant planted by the southern imperial clan within the court. Upon learning of Xiao Qi’s intention to campaign south, the Prince had immediately dispatched men riding at full gallop to carry the information to the south — but they had run squarely into Tang Jing, commander of the Linliang Pass, and not one had escaped. This Tang Jing was one of the three most renowned generals under Xiao Qi’s command, known for his ruthlessly sharp methods, and had earned the nickname “General Viper.” In the old days, he had personally established the Black Banner Company within the army — a unit dedicated to training spies — and could rightly be called the master of all spies in the realm. He had originally been stationed at Ningshuo and was later recalled to the capital. Xiao Qi ordered him to personally oversee the interrogation of this case, and many imperial clansmen and powerful families were implicated. The entire court was shaken.

Even the most iron-willed of spies, in the hands of this merciless official, would find life worse than death — all the more so, the sheltered and pampered aristocratic gentry.

On the seventh day of the first month, Tang Jing submitted a memorial impeaching Prince Fengyuan, enumerating eight great crimes including coveting the imperial throne and plotting treasonous rebellion.

On the tenth day of the first month, court officials of the capital jointly submitted a memorial imploring the Regent to raise an army to suppress the rebels and uphold the state and its altars.

On the eleventh day of the first month, the Regent issued a proclamation denouncing the rebels, commanding General-Courageous-and-Mighty Hu Guanglie to lead an advance force of a hundred thousand troops southward.

Four days later, the Lantern Festival palace banquet would see all the imperial princes, nobles, and civil and military dignitaries of the capital gathered together — the most highly anticipated grand occasion of the year.

“Lay embroidered carpet along this stretch of jade steps, and place one bright gauze palace lantern every ten steps.” Yuxiu was standing there looking fresh and lovely, directing a group of palace maids in their arrangements — her sapphire-blue palace gown made her skin appear luminously fair and her features exquisitely beautiful.

I walked slowly up behind her and said with a smile, “You’ve worked hard, Madam Song.”

Yuxiu turned around and quickly made a curtsy, saying with fond reproach, “The Princess Consort is teasing me again!”

“I keep forgetting to use the new form of address — we are sisters-in-law now, so no more talk of ‘your servant.'” I smiled and took her hand. “These past days I’ve relied entirely on you to help manage things. I don’t know how I would have managed without you.”

“All the good fortune I have today is entirely due to the Princess Consort’s kindness — how could Yuxiu ever forget that.” She sighed softly. “I was born without any particular talent or ability. I only hoped the Princess Consort wouldn’t think me beneath her and would let me stay by her side for the rest of my life — and that would have been enough for me. I never imagined I would have the happiness I have today.” I smiled warmly. “You silly girl — if you had stayed by my side all your life, what would have become of Huai’an?”

Yuxiu’s cheeks flushed bright pink, her eyes full of a tender warmth. “That foolish man — I won’t even speak of him!”

“These past few days with all the military affairs, Huai’an must be working very hard too?” I shook my head with a smile. Yuxiu hesitated and nodded, a faint look of worry crossing her brows. “Recently he’s been busy every day, but I don’t know what for — he’s been gloomy and sour the whole time, as though he’s been quarreling with someone, and when I ask him, he won’t say.”

The picture was clear to me at once. I understood perfectly well why Song Huai’an was feeling aggrieved. A few days earlier, Xiao Qi had appointed Hu Guanglie as commander of the advance force, leading a hundred thousand troops southward on the campaign, while leaving him in the capital with no movement whatsoever. The two of them had always been Xiao Qi’s right and left arms, and in terms of seniority and battle merit, were evenly matched — what was more, they had always been at odds in temperament, and the rivalry between Hu and Song was common knowledge in the court. Now that Hu Guanglie alone had claimed the glory, how was Song Huai’an to swallow that?

Just yesterday morning at court, he had been unable to hold himself back any longer and had publicly requested permission to join the campaign, only to have Xiao Qi quietly set the matter aside. I too did not understand what Xiao Qi had in mind this time — perhaps the moment was not yet right, or perhaps keeping Song Huai’an behind served some other important purpose. These thoughts were naturally not something I could say outright to Yuxiu. I only smiled and offered gentle words of comfort: “Everyone has moments of irritability — there’s no need to pay it too much mind. Men are like children in certain ways — even those who are generals and ministers of the highest standing sometimes need a little coaxing.”

Yuxiu’s eyes went wide. “Like children? How could that be?” I smiled but said nothing in reply. Being a serious-minded person, she pondered this all the more in bewilderment, and muttered under her breath, “How could there be such big children…”

A’Yue, standing by my side, burst into a laugh she could not quite suppress. She and Yuxiu were of similar age and had always gotten along well. Yuxiu, red-faced and flustered, turned to spit in her direction. “You little rascal — just you wait until the Princess Consort finds you a good husband, and then we’ll see who’s laughing!”

A’Yue laughed merrily and dodged behind me. I could not hold back my own laughter. It was only when I was with the two of them that I remembered I too was of a young and flourishing age, and could occasionally laugh and joke so freely.

While we were still laughing and teasing one another, a low, amused voice came from behind us. “What is so amusing?”

Xiao Qi came walking slowly toward us, hands clasped behind his back — wearing a light fur coat with a wide-sleeved robe and a tall cap, his whole bearing, when not in court robes, took on a different kind of graceful elegance: all the more richly dignified, clear-spirited, and lofty — the unmistakable bearing of one born to rule. I raised an eyebrow and smiled, looking him up and down with undisguised approval. He was at once exasperated and amused by my scrutiny. As those around us were present, he could not give free rein to laughter, and only said levelly, “What are you scheming about now?”

I said gravely with a sigh, “It is a pity that such a fine appearance is always hidden behind a cold expression — I wonder if there is any woman who secretly admires him without daring to say so…” Yuxiu and A’Yue, standing to one side, heard this and could not help covering their mouths to stifle their laughter. Xiao Qi gave a loud, deliberate cough, shot me a glare, and then, not being at liberty to reprimand me openly in front of others, could only turn his head away to disguise his awkwardness.

“Is Yuxiu here as well?” He seemed to notice her as though by chance, and smiled warmly. Yuxiu quickly made a curtsy and offered her greetings. Xiao Qi regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, then said in a warm tone, “How has Huai’an been lately?”

“Thank you for Your Highness’s kind concern — my husband is doing well in every respect.” Yuxiu remained somewhat shy before Xiao Qi, and her answer was measured and composed.

Xiao Qi smiled. “Huai’an is a straightforward sort of person — in his leisure time he would do well to cultivate a measure of self-restraint. Some things ought not to be rushed.”

Yuxiu flushed and quickly made a respectful bow. “Your Highness speaks truly.”

The warming stove kept the inner chamber as pleasantly warm as spring. Though it was already deep into the night, there was no sense of cold. Xiao Qi turned the pages of official documents by lamplight, while I reclined idly on the nearby chaise longue, casually peeling a fresh orange. At one unguarded moment, I raised my eyes and caught his quiet profile — and felt a sudden, complete serenity in my heart. No matter how long I looked, I could not get enough. I went to his side, yet he showed not the least reaction, utterly absorbed in the small mountain of documents piled before him. A playful impulse seized me, and I held a freshly peeled orange segment to his lips. Without looking up, he simply parted his lips to take it — but I abruptly drew it back, leaving him to take hold of nothing.

“Naughty.” He drew me onto his lap and claimed the orange segment by force. Thus settled comfortably on his knee, my gaze wandered and fell on the open memorial spread across the desk — yet another petition from Song Huai’an requesting to join the campaign.

I leaned in and glanced over it briefly, then raised an eyebrow to ask him, “Do you really have no intention of letting Huai’an go on the campaign?”

Xiao Qi closed the memorial and set it to one side, saying with an ambiguous smile, “Military strategy is not to be spoken of lightly.”

“You’re being deliberately mysterious.” I turned my head aside, not bothering to engage with him. I knew perfectly well he was dangling a bit of bait for me on purpose.

Xiao Qi laughed and drew me closer, his smile giving nothing away. “Huai’an will certainly go to war — just not yet. At the moment, I’m still waiting for someone.”

“Waiting for whom?” I was taken aback. I could not think of anyone better suited than Song Huai’an to lead the southern campaign.

The gleam in his eyes remained enigmatic. “You’ll know when the time comes.”

“There you go being mysterious and oblique.” I pursed my lips, flicked a sleeve, and moved to rise from his knee.

He caught hold of my wrist and pulled me back into his arms, smiling as he gazed at me. “Only two days more — this person should arrive by then. I believe it will be a surprise you’ll welcome.”

I tried to guess who he had in mind but could not catch the faintest thread of a clue. It was most likely my brother — yet I could not think what connection my brother had with the southern campaign.

Two days of spring chill followed, and overnight a great snow fell. In the blink of an eye it was the fifteenth of the first month — the night of the Lantern Festival palace banquet.

In the afternoon I went to visit Aunt. She was in good color and spirits today, and would likely be able to attend the evening’s events — I felt relieved. Leaving the Yong’an Palace, I saw the palace walkways were heavily blanketed with snow and that palace attendants were still clearing it away, so I took a detour along the side corridor. Rounding the west corridor, I caught a glimpse of a mass of red plum blossoms blazing gloriously atop a wall, dazzling to the eye. It was none other than the plum trees of Jingling Palace in bloom once more.

I paused in a daze and gazed at those wintry plum blossoms reaching over the top of the wall, feeling momentarily lost in thought.

The occupant of Jingling Palace had been gone for five years. It was unexpected that while people and circumstances had changed entirely, the old things remained as they were. The palace gate was usually kept locked, but today it happened to be open, with two inner eunuchs clearing away the snow before the entrance. I sighed and found myself stepping into that long-idle palace courtyard. A thin layer of snow covered the ground, making the world appear pristine white and immaculate — a place of celestial peace and purity — and only those few old plum trees, with their gnarled branches and profuse blossoms, bloomed defiantly in defiance of the snow, their beauty so extreme it stirred, unexpectedly, a thread of melancholy in the heart.

The past drifted through my mind in fragments — like illusions, like dreams — and when I turned my head without thinking, that graceful silhouette materialized with startling clarity in this moment.

I saw him again — just as I remembered his refined and gentle bearing: wearing a silver-fox-fur cape, the hood half-covering his face, his light blue robe elegant and unassuming, walking through the depths of the wintry plum blossoms, treading the snow toward me. Even a phantom could appear so vivid — so close I could nearly reach out and touch it. A gust of wind passed, and plum blossoms rained down in showers onto his shoulders. He raised his head, and the hood slipped back…

Like ice and snow — pure and solitary. Like a deep, still pool — clear and serene. In the single moment of his quietly lifting eyes, the most exquisite brilliance of all heaven and earth was eclipsed.