The warm autumn sun of the afternoon shone pleasantly.
Yet my hands were in a flurry trying to keep up with Xiaoxiao’s mischief.
Heaven only knew where she got such abundant energy — not a single moment of peace from morning to night, utterly more troublesome than those stubborn court ministers.
Thankfully, Che’er was a quiet baby, nothing at all like his elder sister’s naughty ways.
At this moment he lay contentedly in the wet nurse’s arms, sleeping soundly, his sleeping face like a white lotus blossom — anyone who saw him would be reluctant to disturb him.
Having finally coaxed Xiaoxiao to sleep and handed her off to Nanny Xu, I too was exhausted and drained.
Reclining on the soft couch, I flipped through the battle reports sent back from the northern frontier. I had barely read two lines before drowsiness overtook me, and I gradually drifted off to sleep… In a daze, I heard someone speaking in a low voice outside the curtain; Nanny Xu gave a quiet reply to something.
Too drowsy to respond, I turned on my side toward the inner wall and went back to sleep.
Then I suddenly heard Nanny Xu let out a stifled exclamation: “What! Why did no one come to report sooner?”
The drowsiness scattered at once. I propped myself up and furrowed my brow. “What is the commotion outside?”
Nanny Xu hurried to the edge of the couch and, speaking from behind the gauze curtain in a low voice, said, “Your Highness, Commander Pang has sent someone to report that during a routine inspection just now, one of the palace exit passes was found to be missing — it is feared it has been stolen.”
My heart lurched violently. I immediately swept the curtain aside. “When did this happen?”
“The theft likely occurred in the early hours of the morning.” Nanny Xu said anxiously. “The details are still unclear. This servant will summon the inner imperial guards into the residence at once to be questioned.”
“There is no time for that.” My voice was cold. “Issue the order immediately: command the Iron Guard to ride out of the city at full gallop and pursue along the eastern and northern roads. The fugitive must be caught before midnight tonight. If there is any resistance, kill them on the spot. Not a single person can be allowed to slip through!”
Cold sweat broke out on Nanny Xu’s forehead. “This servant understands.”
“Seal the palace at once and place all the inner imperial guards who were on night watch under arrest. Summon Chancellor Song and Commander Pang to see me!” I hastily threw on my outer robe and called A’Yue in to dress and groom me, and ordered the carriage prepared to enter the palace.
Sitting before the dressing table, I noticed that cold sweat had already broken out on my brow.
Pang Gui, the vice commander of the palace imperial guards, was someone I had trusted for many years — he had always been the one covertly monitoring every move within the palace. A single missing pass seemed a trivial thing, but once someone exploited it to stir up trouble, even the most formidable dam could be breached by an anthill. With the great army driving deep into the northern desert frontier, the capital was at its most vulnerable. If unrest broke out at the rear, it would be no different from placing Xiao Qi in a position of being attacked on both flanks.
In the mirror, my own face was unusually pale, contrasting with the vivid crimson rouge on my lips — it was as if a layer of frost had been cast over me.
Booted footsteps sounded outside the door; Song Huai’an had already arrived. I turned and pulled on my cloak, stepping out to meet him.
“Your subordinate pays respects to Her Highness the Princess Consort.” Song Huai’an stood in full military dress with his sword at his side, his expression grave and resolute.
In the distance, in the direction of the eastern military camp, thick blue-gray smoke was rising, billowing straight up into the sky.
That was the smoke signal warning the garrison posts along the route.
Song Huai’an rested his hand on his sword hilt. “Your subordinate has already sent up the smoke signal and dispatched riders at full gallop to seal off the garrison checkpoints along the route.”
“Very good.” I tilted my head back to look at the blue-gray column of smoke and said slowly, “By my calculation of the distance, they cannot reach Linliang Pass before midnight. The Iron Guard has already ridden out of the city in pursuit; when the time comes, we will close in from front and rear — not one can be allowed to escape.”
“Should we leave any alive for questioning?” Song Huai’an asked in a deep voice.
“Things have reached this point. Whether or not we leave anyone alive no longer matters.” My tone was flat. “The eastern flank is no more than a mantis trying to stop a chariot, but the north must not fail under any circumstances. Have you made full arrangements?”
Song Huai’an gave a firm nod. “The troops stationed in the eastern commandery number fewer than twenty thousand; I have already deployed defenses along the route. The four sides of the capital are garrisoned with troops as solid as iron walls — Your Highness need not worry. As for the north, no matter what great skill one might possess, I dare say no one can slip out of His Highness the Prince’s grasp.”
I frowned. “With two armies locked in battle at the front, we cannot afford to have an internal uprising. Under no circumstances can word of this be allowed to leak.”
“Your Highness may rest assured. The Iron Guard has never failed in its missions to this day.” Song Huai’an’s gaze was deep and resolute, a flash of deadly resolve evident within. “Since the arrow has already left the bowstring, there is no turning back. I urge Your Highness to make a decisive judgment without delay!”
His gaze met mine squarely.
At this distance, I could almost see the veins at his temple standing out from the intensity of his emotion.
A decisive judgment — those two words slipped easily from his lips, yet they meant the reversal of an entire life.
How many decisive judgments had there been over these ten years — either stepping to the top of the wind-battered crest, or retreating into a bottomless abyss. There had never been any path of compromise to walk.
One gain, one loss — whatever was lost, was lost for a lifetime.
The wind rose; the courtyard was swept with a chill rustling.
I pulled my cloak tightly around me, looked up, and gazed in the direction of the palace city.
— Zidan, so in the end you are coming to take a stand against me?
The red sun slowly sank westward. Evening approached; the dying sun was the color of blood, staining the long palace corridor crimson.
Outside the palace gates, three thousand iron cavalry were arrayed on either side of the road, their armor gleaming, standing at the ready.
Song Huai’an rode at the head, entering the palace gates with sword in hand.
I raised my hand and pulled my hood down low to conceal my face, then urged my horse forward behind him; two mounted personal guards rode alongside me on either side.
At this moment I was dressed in riding attire, my appearance concealed by the cloak, blending unobtrusively among the personal guards as I slipped quietly into the palace.
Drawing my horse to a halt beneath the palace wall, I looked back at the slanting glow across the sky. The entire capital was bathed in a solemn golden light.
All four city gates of the capital had been sealed and placed under martial law. Vice Commander of the Imperial Guards Pang Gui personally led troops to surround and arrest the entire Hu clan, and all the mansions of the princes and nobles were under heavy armed watch.
Before the Qianyuan Hall, an expanse of palace servants knelt pressed to the ground; dozens of attendants stood at the hall entrance with swords at their sides.
The chief eunuch stepped forward briskly. “His Majesty is in the hall. This old servant was ordered to guard the palace doors and has not dared let a single person step outside.”
Song Huai’an turned his head; I gave a slight nod, and we walked up the jade steps before the hall together.
In the deep shadows within the hall, Zidan sat alone at the center of the imperial throne in plain white robes and a jade crown, gazing coldly at the doorway.
As Song Huai’an and I stepped inside, the last trace of the setting sun cast our shadows long across the floor, overlapping with the carved dragons in the jade tiles.
“You’ve come.”
Zidan’s detached voice echoed through the hall.
“Your subject has come late to protect His Majesty — I beg His Majesty’s forgiveness!” Song Huai’an rested his hand on his sword hilt and stepped forward, dropping to one knee.
I lowered my head and knelt in silence behind Song Huai’an, keeping my face concealed in the shadow of my hood.
“Protect me?” Zidan gave a cold laugh. “This solitary sovereign — why would he be worth disturbing Chancellor Song’s presence in the palace?”
Song Huai’an said without expression, “The Hu clan has committed treason; the Empress forged an imperial edict to deceive the sovereign. Your subject, acting upon the Empress Dowager’s decree, has entered the palace to protect His Majesty and purge the palace of treasonous elements.”
Zidan smiled faintly, his voice bleak — as though he had long since anticipated this moment. “This matter has nothing to do with the Empress. Why involve the innocent? Since I know there is nothing that can be done, I have been dressed in plain robes and waiting for you for quite some time.”
He let out a quiet sigh, as if finally released from a burden, and slowly rose from the imperial throne. “Since it is the Empress Dowager’s decree, allow me to trouble you to convey a message to the Empress Dowager on my behalf —”
He spoke those two words, “Empress Dowager,” with heavy emphasis, their meaning full of biting mockery. “I have finally done as she wished — I wonder if she is pleased?”
Song Huai’an was silent for a moment, then drew a yellow silk decree from his sleeve and held it up with both hands. “Your subject is obtuse and only knows how to follow orders; he would not dare presume to relay His Majesty’s words. This decree deposing the Empress is here. I request that His Majesty affix the imperial seal at once to quell the treason from the Central Palace.”
Zidan clenched his fists, his face pale as paper. “I will bear everything alone — there is no need to implicate others!”
Song Huai’an said coldly, “The Hu clan’s treason is proven with ironclad evidence. I urge His Majesty to see this clearly.”
“This matter has nothing to do with the Hu clan.” Zidan trembled faintly. “I am willing to let you do as you will with me. Why must you harm a woman of delicate constitution?”
“Your subject would not dare.” Song Huai’an’s voice was as cold as ice.
Zidan gripped the imperial throne and said through clenched teeth, hatefully, “You — you are truly determined to annihilate everyone, not even sparing women and children!”
At last losing patience, Song Huai’an suddenly gripped his sword and rose. “I request that His Majesty affix the imperial seal!”
“Do not dream of having me issue such a decree.” Zidan leaned against the imperial throne, glaring, though his whole body was trembling — he seemed to be at the limit of his strength.
Song Huai’an’s fury flared; he suddenly stepped forward.
“Your Majesty.” I rose and pushed back my hood.
Zidan started; he turned his head, and our eyes met directly.
His gaze bored straight into my heart.
Between us, no more than three zhang separated us, yet a lifetime of grievances and enmity had been severed.
I walked slowly toward him, each step as though treading on the edge of a blade.
“Have you come to strike the blow yourself?” He smiled — his pale face showing the gray of death. His body swayed; he sank back down into the imperial throne, his bloodless lips moving, yet he could no longer speak.
I said nothing, letting his gaze and his smile silently flay me.
“Please review this, Your Majesty.” I took the decree from Song Huai’an’s hand and slowly unfolded it before Zidan’s eyes.
“This is the decree deposing the Empress, with no intent to order her death.” I reined in every expression on my face, reined in the sound of my own voice, letting him see only my most cold-blooded side. “If it were a matter of killing someone, the imperial seal would not be necessary — one cup of poison would suffice. The Hu clan’s treason, by law, calls for extermination of the family. Only by being deposed and confined to the Cold Palace can her life be preserved.”
I looked at Zidan. “Your Majesty, this is the furthest extent of what I am able to do.”
Zidan closed his eyes, as though unwilling to look at me for even one more moment. “Take my life — release her and the child.”
He had already concluded that I would use this as a pretext to strike, to root out the weeds and destroy all those close to him.
“Since I made the decision to fight with everything I had, I was prepared for the worst outcome — I ought naturally to bear all consequences.” He sat back with his eyes closed, the ghost of a bitter smile at the corner of his lips.
I looked at him, my heart desolate, feeling only sorrow. “If you truly wanted to protect the Hu family, why did you push them onto the blade’s edge?”
Once the plan failed, the Hu family would be the first to be slaughtered — Zidan could not have been unaware of this. And yet he still cast the entire Hu clan into this desperate gamble with such slim hope of success, even though among them was his wife, and his unborn child.
In the end he did what an emperor ought to do — yet it was a pity that it had come far too late.
“You said I had never tried to fight for anything,” he said suddenly in a weary, distant voice. “Now I have fought — and yet, what of it?”
I gripped the decree, yet found no way to answer him.
Even without today, the Hu clan could not have escaped their destruction; even without the imperial seal, I would have acted all the same.
— Zidan, the fault lies not with you or me; the fault lies only with this age of chaos.
“Your subject, Iron Guard Commander Wei Han, returns to report!”
A voice rang like iron from outside the hall, piercing the deathly silence, shattering the frozen standoff with a sharp crack.
Zidan stared fixedly at the hall entrance, his thin lips trembling faintly, his eyes filled with utter despair.
Wei Han entered the hall with his hand on his sword hilt — dressed entirely in black, moving with swift, leopard-like precision. An iron visor covered his face, leaving only a pair of sharp eyes exposed.
He dropped to one knee, presenting with both hands a bloodstained apricot-yellow robe of phoenix feather silk — an inner garment that only the Empress could wear.
Song Huai’an took that bloodied robe and snapped it open sharply.
The silk robe had been soaked through with fresh blood, yet it remained clearly visible — covered all over with text, the brushstrokes delicate and flowing, with spirit and grace in every stroke.
This was Hu Yao’s garment; Zidan’s writing; below the collar, the vivid red imperial seal was stamped clearly.
— A secret imperial edict had been written on the Empress’s inner garment. A palace maidservant then wore it, slipping past the palace gate inspections, and fled separately — one toward the northern frontier, one toward the eastern commandery — seeking aid from the Hu clan. Beyond the northern frontier, Hu Guanglie commanded a force of a hundred thousand; the eastern commandery still held thirty thousand of the Hu clan’s seasoned troops. It was a desperate stroke, staking everything on one throw. With Zidan’s characteristic indecisiveness, this was likely not something he himself could have conceived of.
The blood on the garment had not yet dried; a heavy stench of blood struck the nostrils.
Zidan suddenly covered his mouth and turned away, his entire body trembling. He had always harbored a profound aversion to blood, yet never had I seen him as terrified as he was at this moment.
“Your subject intercepted the fleeing palace maidservant and her accomplices three li outside the Beiqiao Post Station. Having searched the carriage thoroughly and found nothing suspicious, your subject subsequently discovered imperial effects concealed on the person of a traveling maidservant in the entourage. Deputy Commander Xu pursued the eastern route and has also captured the traitors, and is now riding back at full gallop.” Wei Han bowed his head in report, his voice as cold as ice. “A total of seven traitors — not one escaped.”
“Were any left alive for questioning?” Song Huai’an said coldly.
Wei Han paused. “Three were killed on the spot; two took their own lives. The remaining two survivors are under strict guard.”
When he finished speaking, he and Song Huai’an both looked toward me in silence — almost merging with the shadows in the hall, yet like two drawn swords, exuding a murderous aura so intense it nearly stole my breath.
I gritted my teeth and turned away, refusing to look at Zidan again.
“Where is the chief eunuch of the Qianyuan Hall?” I called out sternly.
Chief Eunuch Wang Fu hurried in, fell prostrate on the ground in a bow, and said, “This old servant is here.”
“Bring the imperial seal.” I flung the decree before him with a sweep of my hand. “Convey the imperial will: the Empress Hu is to be deposed to commoner status and confined to the Cold Palace immediately.”
Behind the folding screen, two attendants materialized like phantoms, stepping forward from left and right.
Wang Fu’s obese, portly frame moved with extraordinary agility at this moment. He stepped briskly toward the imperial throne and gave Zidan a slight bow. “This old servant begs Your Majesty’s pardon.”
The two attendants on either side held Zidan in place while Wang Fu stepped forward, searched out the imperial seal that Zidan had kept on his person, and pressed it down firmly upon the decree.
Zidan sat rigid as stone, allowing himself to be handled as they wished, only staring fixedly at me — his eyes as though about to bleed.
I spun sharply away and clenched my eyes shut. “Commander Wei, take the Hu clan into custody immediately and purge all remaining treasonous parties.”
“Your subject follows the order.” Wei Han dropped to one knee in a bow, then immediately turned and withdrew, going with Wang Fu toward the Zhaoyang Palace.
I slowly turned back.
Zidan had slumped forward, staring fixedly at the ground — and at his feet lay that crimson, searing bloodied garment.
He stared at it fixedly, then suddenly recoiled his foot, hunched over the imperial throne, and retched, his shoulders convulsing again and again.
I froze; a sudden searing pain seized my chest. Unable to restrain myself any longer, I rushed forward and reached out to support him.
He was trembling so violently.
“Summon the imperial physician — summon the imperial physician at once!” I turned my head and called to Song Huai’an.
Zidan panted violently, then suddenly wrenched free of my support and struck me across the face with a backhand slap.
A sharp crack rang in my ear; stars burst before my eyes.
I stumbled and fell at the base of the imperial throne — stunned, frozen, as though unable to move.
My cheek burned. A metallic tang touched my lips. Neither of these could compare to the pain in my chest, as though sliced open by a sharp blade.
Zidan stared at me without blinking, his eyes empty and hollow, yet a cold smile curved the corner of his lips.
A sharp ring of steel — a blade of light flashed — a long sword interposed itself between Zidan and me.
Song Huai’an’s figure blocked my view; the veins on the back of his hand stood out in stark relief.
— Zidan, what you owe me is far more than this single strike.
Whether hatred or resentment — so long as it comes from you, I will bear it.
I seemed to smile in a daze. I reached up and wiped the trace of blood from the corner of my lips, then forced myself to stand.
Song Huai’an reached out his hand to help me; I waved it aside.
I said flatly, “His Majesty’s health is not well. From today onward, he will rest and recuperate in the inner chambers. No one is to disturb him.”
The instant I stepped out of the Qianyuan Hall, I could sustain myself no longer. My legs went weak; I could not step over the threshold.
“Your Highness!” Song Huai’an’s hand steadied my arm firmly, supporting me.
His worried gaze radiated an unwavering resolve that set one’s heart at ease.
“A courier has already been dispatched to the northern frontier — riding day and night at full speed. The sealed letter will reach His Highness the Prince within seven days. For now, please hold on a little longer. Everything here in the capital is in my hands. Your Highness, please take good care of yourself!”
I felt deep gratitude in my heart, yet did not know how to express it. I gave only a faint smile. “Thank you, Huai’an.”
An evening wind rose over the nine-tiered palace towers. The sky darkened overhead as if overcast and about to rain.
Lanterns were being lit in the nearby and distant palace courtyards, their flickering points of light drifting amid the night.
“Shall we go to the Zhaoyang Palace?” Song Huai’an asked.
What would going to the Zhaoyang Palace accomplish — to flaunt my victory, or to savor another’s defeat?
I smiled miserably. Hu Yao had done nothing wrong. Her choice was the same as mine — only to fight for herself and the one she loved, to secure survival and dignity, to eliminate all obstacles and dangers. Even by any means necessary, she would live on. Had we met in different circumstances, she and I might well have been kindred spirits.
“There is no need to go to the Zhaoyang Palace. Handle everything as you see fit. I am weary — let us return to the residence.” Crestfallen, I turned and boarded the imperial carriage.
Just as I was about to set off, I saw Wang Fu come hurrying from the direction of the Zhaoyang Palace.
“This servant reports to Your Highness: the… the deposed Empress Hu has just fainted from shock and shows signs of imminent labor.”