In the fifth month, Prince Jiangning suffered defeat at Huizhou, leading his remnant forces to seek refuge with the Prince Chenghui at Juzhou, where he joined forces with the Prince of Kangping, Marquis Chu’an, Marquis Xinyuan, Marquis Wulie, Marquis Chengde, and Marquis Jing’an. Prince Yuzhang’s great army swept out through three passes, seized four cities, and drove straight into the heartland of the Central Plains.

In the sixth month, Prince Jiangning’s royalist relief army assembled twenty-five thousand troops under his command, launching a three-pronged counterattack, and Chu Prefecture came under urgent threat. Prince Yuzhang pacified the Pengze Rebellion, executed the Prefect of Pengze, and the various prefectures and counties, overawed by Prince Yuzhang’s military might, all submitted.

On the third day of the seventh month, Chu Prefecture finally fell. Marquis Wulie led his vanguard forces in a deep strike, cutting off the only road leading to the capital. On the fifth day of the seventh month, Prince Yuzhang’s left-flank army launched a surprise attack along Huangrang Road, fighting bitterly for four days and three nights, until Marquis Wulie suffered defeat and died in battle.

On the ninth day of the seventh month, Prince Yuzhang’s right-flank army captured the Western Ridge Pass, ambushed the forces of the Prince of Kangping in Ghost Mist Valley, and the General Who Conquers Captives launched a surprise assault on Prince Jiangning’s rear camp, capturing Marquis Jing’an and Marquis Xinyuan alive and gravely wounding the Prince of Kangping.

On the eleventh day of the seventh month, Prince Yuzhang personally led his central forces to press toward Xinjin Commandery, where they encountered the great army of the Prince Chenghui on a narrow road, fighting a bloody battle at Nufeng Valley. Prince Jiangning detached a portion of his troops to make his escape and encamped beneath Linliang Pass. The Prince Chenghui suffered a crushing defeat, abandoning the city and fleeing alone, while his remaining forces defected and surrendered, and Prince Yuzhang’s army gave chase.

On the fifteenth day of the seventh month, Prince Jiangning’s and Prince Yuzhang’s armies faced each other in a standoff at the throat of the capital — below Linliang Pass.

Linliang Pass was no more than three hundred li from the capital, and it was now the last line of defense guarding the imperial city.

The day after arriving at Linliang Pass, a spy came galloping in with urgent news.

The Second Prince, Zidan, had set fire to the palace and ambushed the General of the Imperial Guard at the palace gate. Disguised as a palace guard, he slipped out of the imperial city under cover of night, carrying the Emperor’s secret decree and defecting to Prince Jiangning’s army. The secret decree stated that the Wang Family and Prince Yuzhang had committed treason, forged imperial edicts to coerce the palace, and that the imperial household was in grave peril. The decree ordered the Empress of the Wang Family to be stripped of her rank and reduced to a commoner, and commanded the Crown Prince Zidan to ascend the throne. The General of the Imperial Guard, Wang Xu, had been assassinated.

When the news arrived, I was busy at Xiao Qi’s side, personally sorting through the mountain of documents and military dispatches piled high on the desk.

When I heard that Zidan had set fire to the palace, I turned around in a daze, forgetting to set down the stack of bamboo scrolls in my hands.

That phrase — “the General of the Imperial Guard, Wang Xu, has been assassinated” — sounded to me as though it could not be real. What was he saying? My uncle, the General of the Imperial Guard who commanded the palace interior, Wang Xu — was dead? I turned to look at Xiao Qi in a blank daze, and he, too, was staring steadily back at me.

The military courier still knelt on the ground. Without even turning his head, Xiao Qi pressed his lips together and said quietly, “Understood. Withdraw.”

Stiffly, I set down that stack of scrolls. One volume slipped and fell to the floor, and I bent slowly to pick it up. The moment I reached out my hand, Xiao Qi seized it firmly. He rose and pulled me into his embrace, his arms steady and strong, refusing to let me struggle free.

I stared at him blankly and murmured, “It isn’t real. They’ve made a mistake. How could my uncle be dead… Uncle…” A figure with a bright, easy smile and flowing beautiful whiskers swept across my mind — the uncle who had held me in the crook of his arm since I was small, who had taught me to ride horses and patiently shown me, step by step, how to shoot arrows. How could he die at a moment like this? We had already come this far. We were no more than a few hundred li from the capital. There was only one step left!

“Yes. The General of the Imperial Guard died in the line of duty.” Xiao Qi gazed at me, his eyes stern, with a trace of guilt and grief hidden within them. “In the end, I was one step too late!”

My legs gave out beneath me and I slumped softly against him, sliding downward, unable to make even a single choked sob.

Xiao Qi gathered me close, not saying a word, his body held rigid.

After a long while, he spoke in my ear, word by word: “A’Wu, I promise you — I will use Zidan’s head as an offering to the General of the Imperial Guard!”

Zidan — I jolted, as if ice and snow had seeped into every part of me. How could it be Zidan?

The Crown Prince, elder brother Zi Long; the Second Prince, Zidan; the Third Prince, Zi Tan… these three young men, each so utterly different from the others, had spent more than ten long and beautiful years of palace life with me. By blood, the Crown Prince was my closest relation; by affection, Zi Tan was my dearest; but Zidan, and Zidan alone, had always been such a lonely, silent young man — close to no one.

The Crown Prince held a position of great honor, and Zi Tan’s birth mother enjoyed exceptional imperial favor, but Zidan alone was born of a Jieyu of low standing. His birth mother had died of illness early, and as a child he was raised in the care of the Empress Dowager. My maternal grandmother had showered the frail and sickly Zidan with tender solicitude from his earliest years, attending to his every need, so that even after he reached adulthood, there was always an attendant who remained by his side without a moment’s absence, and the faint smell of medicine lingered through the seasons in his sleeping chambers.

In the very year that my elder brother married, Zidan fell gravely ill, and after his recovery, he became cold as frost toward everyone — even toward me, he no longer had any warmth. At the time I was still young and unknowing, and only felt that elder brother Zidan would no longer play with me. Many sorrowful things happened that year: my sister-in-law passed away from illness only half a year after her wedding; by autumn, we had also lost our maternal grandmother; and elder brother had left the capital for Jiangnan.

After the Empress Dowager passed away, Zidan grew more silent and withdrawn than ever, burying himself in books all day long without leaving his quarters, his health alternating between better and worse.

I could barely recall his face. The last time I had seen him in my memory was hazily on the eve of my own wedding — he had turned out from the side gate of the Eastern Hua Palace, holding an old, worn book, dressed in a wide-sleeved blue robe, with a silk band tying his hair, standing beneath a tree of pale purple and deep emerald cotton rose flowers. He gave me a faint smile, like a ripple stirring across a cold, still pool, before settling back into calm.

The entire night, my hands and feet were icy cold, and I could not stop trembling. Even held in Xiao Qi’s arms, I felt not a single trace of warmth.

Xiao Qi threw on his robe and rose, about to summon a physician.

I grabbed his hand and would not let go. I smiled dimly, shook my head, and said, “I am fine. Just stay with me.”

His gaze penetrated straight through my eyes to the depths of my heart, as if he could see all. “When you grieve, let yourself cry. Do not force yourself to smile.”

And yet in the end I never cried. I only felt an empty numbness, cold from my fingertips to the bottom of my heart.

My uncle was dead. I had lost a kinsman and could not even see him one last time.

My uncle — the uncle who had doted on me so.

The lamplight in the tent had been extinguished, and outside the crows cried one after another, piercing and unsettling.

I lay quietly in Xiao Qi’s arms, drawing what little warmth there was from his body.

“How could it be Zidan…” In the darkness, I stared up wide-eyed and lost, gripping Xiao Qi’s hand tightly.

He did not answer, as though he had already fallen asleep.

I could not believe it — that Zidan had brought about my uncle’s death. I could not believe that the scholarly, solitary young man would also be drawn into this mortal struggle for imperial power. Perhaps the outcome should have been foreseen long ago, yet I had never imagined that when this day arrived, it would be so brutal and harrowing.

Even Zidan had come to this — then what of him, the one person I least wanted to think of? What would become of him?

A chill spread through my whole body. I dared not close my eyes, afraid that the moment I did, I would see Zi Tan — would see my uncle covered in blood.

Regardless of whether Xiao Qi was already asleep, I murmured directly to him, recounting memories of childhood, speaking of my uncle, speaking of the blurred and hazy image of Zidan that lived in my memory.

He suddenly flipped over and pressed me beneath him, his gaze deep and fathomless. “The old days are gone. Whatever princes and princesses there may be — they have nothing to do with you anymore!” He did not allow me to speak another word, and bent down to kiss me… The heat and tenderness between our lips and breath gradually drove away the darkness before my eyes.

Through the night I woke again and again in alarm. Each time I woke, he was there beside me, holding me close.

In the darkness we leaned quietly against each other — silence already surpassing a thousand words.

Zidan’s escape, and the Emperor’s secret decree, had given Prince Jiangning’s army a righteous cause, striking at us when we were unprepared.

Yet at this point, when swords were already drawn, what could a single imperial edict do to halt Xiao Qi’s advance? The victor becomes king and the vanquished turns bandit — that is the eternal truth.

However one might speak of calling the realm to arms and defending the Emperor against rebellion — more than half the armed forces of the realm were in Xiao Qi’s hands. The prefectures and commanderies that had dared to follow the imperial house and oppose Xiao Qi had already either suffered defeat or surrendered. Only the Cheng Hui Prince and Prince Jiangning, two veteran generals, still fought on to the death. The remaining few independent garrison forces, knowing full well that the imperial house’s cause was lost and that a mantis cannot stop a chariot, had wisely chosen self-preservation and sat on the sidelines as mere spectators.

The Crown Prince was far away at the imperial mausoleum, held under the control of others; passing the throne to Zi Tan was nothing but empty talk. Or perhaps — this was nothing more than the Emperor’s final act of defiance. He had spent his last strength not willing to let my aunt have her wish, not willing to let the Crown Prince sit securely on the throne.

His wedded wife of many years. His own legitimate son. Once the imperial family turned against each other, this, in the end, was the outcome.

My aunt had schemed and calculated with everything she had, yet she had not counted on Zidan appearing midway to disrupt her plans. Once this secret decree spread, the Crown Prince’s claim to the throne would forever carry a stain that could never be washed away — no matter how sagely he might rule the realm in years to come, his record could never be unblemished.

Even with the secret decree, it could not reverse the collapse of Prince Jiangning’s forces.

On the third day of the eighth month, ten days before my nineteenth birthday, Xiao Qi broke through Linliang Pass.

Prince Jiangning sustained seven severe wounds and died fighting until his strength was utterly spent.

Zidan and the Cheng Hui Prince led the remaining troops — fewer than fifty thousand men — and fled south along the river, heading south to seek refuge with the Prince of Chong Yuan.

Xiao Qi arranged a dignified burial for Prince Jiangning’s remains and ordered his surrendered generals to escort the body, while the entire army observed mourning rites.

This loyal and courageous Prince had defended the final dignity of the imperial family with his very life.

Xiao Qi said: to earn the respect of your enemy is a soldier’s greatest honor.

I did not understand a soldier’s honor, but I understood that a general capable of respecting his enemy will surely earn the respect of all under Heaven as well.

The following day, the great army marched straight forward and encamped forty li outside the capital.

An imperial decree arrived from my aunt, commanding Xiao Qi to withdraw his troops three hundred li and forbidding him from entering court with armed forces.

Xiao Qi declined to receive the decree on the grounds that “the inner palace must not interfere in government affairs, and imperial decrees of the inner palace do not reach the three armies.”

After two days of deadlock, my father finally stepped forward to mediate, persuading my aunt to yield and bow her head to Xiao Qi.

On the eighth day of the eighth month, from the Chaoyang Gate to the great encampment, the forty-li passage was sprinkled with clean water and spread with yellow sand. Imperial guards stood in formation along the entire route, holding banners of ceremony, and all commoners were required to withdraw from the path. The Crown Prince himself led all civil and military officials out through the Chaoyang Gate to welcome Prince Yuzhang into the capital in a ceremonial reception beyond the suburbs, and all officials from princes and dukes downward knelt in rows along the road to greet him.

Three thousand elite iron cavalry once again swept grandly through the Chaoyang Gate.

All along the route, the commander’s banners flew high and the military pennants streamed in the wind; wherever the procession passed, all officials bowed their heads.

Xiao Qi removed the battle armor stained with the dust of campaign and entered court in the formal dress of a prince. I personally dressed him in the nine-emblem, coiling-dragon, gold-inlaid court robe and the star-and-moon-adorned coronet, and exchanged the old sword with its bone-chilling air for the Seven-Star Moon-Radiant Sword. Since our wedding day, I too had once again donned the court dress of a prince’s consort — a pheasant-embroidered robe with purple sash, nine-floral ornaments, and double pendants — and rode a luan carriage with full ceremonial escort, following him as his horses trod upon the Celestial Gate.

One body clad in battle armor, one body clad in court robes — from the frontier skies to the nine-tiered palace towers — he had at last taken this step. Gazing at his proud silhouette from within the luan carriage, I knew: from this day forward, the great general whose heroism overshadowed all the world would truly become Prince Yuzhang, whose authority commanded all under Heaven.

That day, standing on a tower balcony watching from afar as he returned victorious, I had been overawed by his magnificent and awe-inspiring military might, not even daring to raise my eyes to look at him directly.

And now, today, I had become Princess Consort of Yuzhang, riding side by side with him, shoulder to shoulder, entering together the nine-tiered Celestial Gate.

This supreme imperial city was the place where I was born, where I grew up. Countless times I had leaned over the parapet of the Celestial Gate to gaze out with curiosity at the colorful world of ordinary life below. I had never imagined that one day I would ascend this towering palace gate and look down upon all living souls from the posture of a conqueror.

The Crown Prince wore a golden crown and yellow robes, his spirit animated and unrestrained as always. Behind him was my father in a purple robe with jade sash, dignified and distinguished — even elder brother was already dressed in the silver-blue robes of a Grand Master of Brilliant Happiness, looking all the more refined and luminous, like a radiant jade tree.

My nearest and dearest — in such circumstances, in such a grand and splendid manner, were reuniting with me.

At the moment my father’s gaze met mine, he revealed a faint smile, the silver threads at his temples flickering softly in the sunlight. Through all these days of separation, a few more strands of gray had appeared at his temples.

Xiao Qi dismounted ten zhang before the imperial presence, and I too stepped down from the luan carriage, walking slowly to his rear. Each step I took seemed to bring me both closer and farther from my father.

The August sunlight of the capital was bright and piercing, stinging my eyes. Within its dazzling halo, everything around me seemed to float and shimmer, unreal.

“This subject was tardy in answering the imperial summons and caused Your Highness anxiety — I beg to be punished!” Xiao Qi’s voice rang out with resonance and resolve as he knelt on one knee to the side, head held high and unyielding, without bowing his head.

I knelt heavily alongside him, but directed my bow toward my father and elder brother.

“Prince Yuzhang has rendered meritorious service at great hardship!” The Crown Prince stepped forward to help Xiao Qi to his feet.

Listening to one magnanimous and gracious pleasantry after another from the Crown Prince’s lips — solemn and stiff as they were — I lowered my head and secretly smiled, warmth rising in my heart. How long had he been made to memorize these phrases? He was the one who despised such words more than anyone. Yet now the Crown Prince maintained the dignity of the heir apparent, even as his eyes still carried that air of careless ease.

The hem of a purple robe entered my field of vision. I looked up sharply to find my father already standing before me.

The sadness I had suppressed for so long surged like a tide breaking through a dam, catching me completely unprepared.

“Father…” The word escaped my lips in a low cry — yet I saw my father bow his head slightly, leading the assembled officials in their salute.

Of course. Xiao Qi, as a ruling prince, held rank above my father, and as his principal consort I did too. Even so, I still sank to my knees before my father.

“Princess Consort, please rise.” My father’s warm hands steadied me gently as he helped me up. His expression remained composed, but his hands trembled ever so slightly.

Xiao Qi bowed to my father in the manner of a junior member of the family, and before all the assembled officials still addressed him as “Left Chancellor.”

Looking past my father’s shoulder, I saw elder brother, who was watching me quietly with his roguish, smiling gaze, looking back and forth between me and Xiao Qi, his eyes holding a mixture of joy and worry that could not be clearly read.

A thousand bittersweet feelings churned within me. I gently pressed my lips together and looked up at him with a slight smile.

The Crown Prince led all the civil and military officials up to the golden throne room, with Xiao Qi and my father standing on either side, one to the left and one to the right.

I was escorted by attendants into the side hall to wait. Through a curtain hung with golden thread and jade ornaments, I could see from a distance the assembled officials prostrated at the foot of the throne, while the gravely ill Emperor, supported personally by my aunt, made his way up to the hall.

This figure in dragon robes, tottering and withered, bore no resemblance to the Emperor in the prime of his years that lived in my memory — the man brimming with spirit and vigor. There had never seemed two more different people.

Standing at his side, the Empress wore a phoenix coronet and court robes, dignified beyond all approach. I could not make out my aunt’s features clearly, only the intricate embroidered patterns on her crimson court dress, her magnificent attire and adornment extraordinarily eye-catching. She was still this formidable — always radiant and dazzling before others, never permitting herself to show even a trace of weakness. In this hall stood the two men whose victory or defeat had decided all, one her husband and one her son. That aging Emperor, sinking toward his final hours, was the man with whom she had shared so many years of marriage. He had already reached his end, yet she still remained, alone and solitary, facing a half-lifetime of desolation.

I gazed in silence at my aunt from behind the curtain. The palace maids who stood soundlessly behind me — were they not also watching me quietly from behind their own veil? In this court deep as the sea, how many pairs of eyes were watching; in this turbulent and treacherous court hall, how many people were watching; across the ever-changing realm, how many more watched what became of us.

The Emperor could no longer speak. The Crown Prince, in his capacity as regent, proclaimed the decree before the court, bestowing honors and titles upon the meritorious subjects who had suppressed the rebellion.

The Left Chancellor was elevated to Grand Preceptor; Prince Yuzhang was elevated to Grand Commandant; Song Huai’an and the various military generals were each promoted three ranks in nobility; Mou Lian was also granted a promotion in title.

The Second Prince Zidan, Prince Jiangning, and the Cheng Hui Prince — who led the rebel faction — were stripped of their ranks and reduced to commoners on charges of forging edicts and attempting usurpation; the remaining members of their party were all tried for crimes of treason.

The assembled court officials cried “Long live the Emperor” three times, the sound resounding through the nine-tiered palace towers.

My father and Xiao Qi stood facing each other, currents of tension flowing silently and fiercely between them.

I quietly closed my eyes, and seemed to see torrents of blood flowing over the jade steps of the palace gate.

This mortal contest for imperial succession — at last — had settled into its final dust.

Those who had died would be turned to dust, forever buried beneath the blazing majesty of imperial authority.

After court was dismissed, the Emperor and my aunt withdrew to the inner hall, and the officials filed out one after another.

Xiao Qi walked toward my father, and the two men chatted with smiles in the hall, looking every bit like an amicable father and son-in-law. Elder brother excused himself and retreated, seemingly unwilling to make courteous conversation with Xiao Qi.

I wanted to chase after elder brother, to call him back. I wanted to go home with him. I wanted to see mother. But in the end I did nothing of the sort — I simply sat there, completely still.

Now that I had returned here, this was no longer the carefree scene of before. I could not act on my own wishes. Princess Shangyang could go back to her parents’ residence without a care and act spoiled with them. But Princess Consort Yuzhang must stay closely at Prince Yuzhang’s side and must not make a single misstep.

I watched helplessly as elder brother left the great hall and walked farther and farther away. There was nothing I could do but avert my eyes in a daze and stare at my own fingertips.

In a distracted moment, I thought again of my wedding day — dressed in layers of brilliant embroidered finery, seated high and upright, quietly watching as others arranged everything around me, while I myself could only remain silent and motionless, like a flawless jade figurine.

“By order of the Empress, Prince Yuzhang’s consort is summoned for an audience.”

A sharp, thin voice sounded from behind me. I turned to see a palace attendant in a brown brocade robe standing respectfully at the door.

It was Eunuch Xue — I recognized him as the old palace servant who had attended my aunt for many years.

He bent at the waist and smiled broadly. “After so long apart, does the Princess Consort still recognize this old servant?”

My aunt had summoned me the moment she left court, yet I did not know how to face her. My thoughts were all in turmoil, and I could only manage a strained smile. “Eunuch Xue, it has been a long time.”

“Please allow this servant to escort the Princess Consort to the Central Palace.” Eunuch Xue led the way, and we proceeded toward the Central Palace.

Familiar corridors and palace halls, courtyard flowers and jade-green trees — there was nowhere that did not belong to the past. I lowered my head, unable to bear looking around me.

Before the Zhaoyang Palace, all was as it had been before.

I stopped and stood in silence for a moment, then told my maids to remain outside the hall and stepped slowly inside alone.

In the past, when I came and went from the Zhaoyang Palace, I never needed a palace attendant to announce me. Today, the guards at the hall entrance recognized me and respectfully bowed and stepped aside.

“Your servant announces to the Empress that Princess Consort Yuzhang has arrived for her audience.” Eunuch Xue knelt at the entrance.

The sound of swaying jade ornaments came from the inner hall, along with the sound of hurried footsteps. The familiar scent of incense suddenly transported me back to days gone by.

“Is that A’Wu?” My aunt stepped out from behind the screen and came quickly forward. She had already changed out of her court robes, her makeup not yet removed, her steps slightly unsteady.

Now that I was close to her at last, seeing her features clearly, I froze where I stood in shock.

Heavy court powder could no longer conceal the wrinkles at her forehead and the corners of her eyes. I had seen her just this past Lantern Festival when I returned to the capital — and yet in barely half a year’s time, my aunt seemed to have aged a full ten years!

I stood in the hall, no more than a few steps from her, but she looked over with an unfocused gaze.

“Is it A’Wu who has come?” My aunt still smiled with her customary gracious composure, narrowing her eyes as she struggled to see me clearly.

I hurried forward to help her, “Aunt, it is I!”

In that very instant, a cold glint of steel flashed behind me.

The flash of a blade, the killing intent, the sense of danger — I knew them all too well now.

“Watch out—” Without a second thought, I hurled myself toward my aunt and shoved her to one side.

Almost simultaneously, that brown-robed figure lunged before us, raising a blade and slashing down at us, shouting: “Wicked Empress — surrender your life!”

I had knocked my aunt down and tumbled to the ground beside her.

The glittering blade sliced through the air and struck — in that split second of lightning and flint, I only knew to throw myself over my aunt and shield her beneath me.

The blazing white light of the blade left everything before my eyes a blinding sheet of white. Something cold grazed my arm. Palace maids were already screaming on all sides, the hall erupting into chaos.

I looked up and saw Eunuch Xue’s hideous face — his round, powdery features twisted into something terrifying, and the short blade in his hand had missed me by a fraction of an inch.

Yuxiu was holding him from behind with all her strength, her arms wrapped around the elbow of his knife hand, her mouth biting ferociously into his elbow.

Eunuch Xue cried out in pain and struggled, raising the blade to bring it down on Yuxiu’s head.

“Help! There is an assassin!” The palace maids in the hall screamed and scattered. Someone rushed forward to intervene, and one woman hurled herself bodily into him.

Eunuch Xue staggered, and the blade came down on Yuxiu’s shoulder.

I yanked my aunt up with all my might and ran desperately toward the hall entrance. The guards at the entrance and my own maids were already running toward us at the sound of the commotion.

But the steps of the Zhaoyang Palace were so long. I watched as the guards were nearly upon us, when my aunt suddenly stumbled, tripped by the long skirts of her robes.

She pulled me off balance as she fell, and the two of us went down together. My aunt screamed unceasing, “Help — someone —”

Beneath the heavy court robes, something hard and cold pressed against my waist. I suddenly remembered — it was the short sword Xiao Qi had given me!

A cry of agony rang out behind me. That shrill, genderless voice roared and closed in.

I gritted my teeth, drew the sword, and struggled to my feet. I saw Yuxiu drenched in blood from the waist up, clinging desperately to Eunuch Xue’s legs.

Eunuch Xue turned back and raised his blade to cut at Yuxiu again. His back was barely turned toward me.

I gripped the sword with both hands, lunged with my whole body, and poured every ounce of my strength into those five cun of steel that could cut iron like mud.

The blade sank in all the way to the hilt. The dull sound of it entering flesh and blood was clear in my ears. I wrenched the sword out sharply. Blood sprayed outward, a scarlet splash erupting before my eyes.

Eunuch Xue stiffened and turned around, staring at me, slowly raising the blade—

A figure flashed — a guard leaped up and kicked the blade from his hand. Spears and halberds closed in from left and right, pinning him fast to the ground!

Eunuch Xue’s round, powdery, white face turned ashen. Blood welled from the corners of his lips. On the verge of death, he let out a fierce laugh: “Your Majesty — your old servant has failed you!”

My whole body went limp. I gripped the short sword, not daring to loosen my grasp. Only now did cold sweat soak through my clothing. In merely an instant — the flash of blades, slaughter, the border between life and death… all of it had frozen into stillness.

“A’Wu, A’Wu!” My aunt lay prostrate on the ground, trembling violently, reaching out her hand to me.

I hurried to help her up, only to discover I was trembling as well. My legs gave out beneath me, and I found myself kneeling down beside my aunt.

“Are you hurt?” She quickly embraced me and reached over to check my body, then touched the slick blood all over my hands and let out another scream.

“Aunt, do not be afraid. I am not hurt. It is over now.” I held her tightly and was startled to find how thin she had grown — she felt as though there were nothing left of her but bones.

My aunt stared at me for a moment, her eyes dull, gasping for breath. “Good. You are not hurt. We are both all right.”

“Your servant reports to the Empress — the assassin Xue Dao’an has been executed!” The guard at the hall entrance knelt and delivered his report.

My aunt’s body went rigid. She erupted in sudden furious rage: “Useless — you are all useless! What use do I have for any of you! Kill them — kill them all!”

The guards and palace maids at the hall entrance shuddered and knelt in a row, cowering, not daring to come near.

I turned to look at Yuxiu and saw her collapsed on the ground, drenched in blood from head to foot. I hurried to summon the imperial physicians and ordered the guards to check everywhere for possible accomplices.

Apart from Yuxiu, who was gravely wounded and unconscious, two other palace servants had sustained minor injuries. My aunt’s most trusted close female official, Senior Attendant Liao, had been cut in the neck and lay collapsed in a pool of blood — she was already dead.

I surveyed the scene, steadied myself as best I could, and said to everyone present with an expression of stern authority: “Deploy the Imperial Guards immediately to protect the Eastern Palace and safeguard the Crown Prince under close watch. Increase the guard at the Zhaoyang Palace. Summon Prince Yuzhang and the Left Chancellor to come to the Central Palace at once. Today’s events must not be spread. If even a whisper leaks out, every person in the Zhaoyang Palace will be executed without exception!”