That sleep was so deep — in my dreams I dimly saw my mother, and the imperial grandmother who had passed away many years before; it seemed I had returned to those carefree years nestled in my grandmother’s lap… I lay with eyes closed in a sweet smile, unwilling to wake so soon.
“I know you are awake. Open your eyes — I beg you, open your eyes!” That voice, raw with grief, sent a nameless pain through my heart. Straining to break free from the swamp of sleep, I tried to open my eyes, and in the shifting, hazy light, found myself looking into a pair of red, red eyes — red as though they might drip blood. I shuddered violently: the assassin, the glint of the blade, the bloodstain, his expression of shocked horror… That terrifying moment swept back through my mind, jerking me fully awake. I remembered the last conscious thought before darkness — remembered his face gone pale, his arms clutching me, his eyes full of frantic, anguished desperation.
I closed my eyes, then opened them again, and at last truly, clearly saw his face.
“A’Wu…” He stared at me without wavering, his gaze dazed, as though he dared not believe it, calling my name softly again and again.
His eyes — how had they turned so red? I felt a pang of tender sorrow, and wanted to raise my hand to touch his cheek, only to find that all sensation had left my body. My limbs and frame were plainly still there, yet seemed no longer to belong to me.
“You have been asleep for so long!” He watched me without blinking, his trembling fingers tracing across my cheek. “Heaven has at last given you back to me!”
I looked at him, and tears welled up and rolled away — yet my body was utterly without feeling, and I could not stir at all.
“A physician — a physician!” Xiao Qi gripped my hand and turned to call urgently. A physician hurried forward, pressed his fingers to my pulse with great concentration, and after a long while let out a slow breath of relief. “The Princess Consort’s pulse is stable, the poison is greatly diminished — it seems the Snow Mountain Silken Bloom did indeed prove effective. However, the virulent poison has entered the channels; it has not yet been fully expelled, and this has resulted in paralysis of the limbs, leaving the body without sensation.”
“Paralysis of the limbs?” Xiao Qi was furious with alarm. “How is the poison to be resolved?”
The physician prostrated himself in terror. “The Silken Bloom is of an exceptionally cold medicinal nature; given the Princess Consort’s constitution, it may be difficult for her to withstand its effects. This official can only attempt it at some risk, using seven medicinal substances of the most intensely warm and positive nature as supplements, and administer the remedy in graduated amounts. Though it appears thus far to have some effect in expelling the poison, this official dare not guarantee it will not injure the internal organs, and does not dare act rashly.” I heard all this in a dazed state, gradually understanding — the Silken Bloom the physician spoke of must be the rare snow mountain flower Helan Zhen had sent. The day the Turkic envoy had called it a precious rarity with the power to resolve poisons and heal wounds, I had not imagined it would truly save my life today.
Then I heard Xiao Qi, furious: “I have no interest in hearing any more hesitation and evasion. Whatever medicine you must use, you are to restore the Princess Consort to full health!”
“The Prince pardons this official!” The physician was terrified, and kowtowed without cease.
I tried to smile, yet could not produce a sound. Only my fingers could move the slightest bit. I exerted all my effort to lightly tap against his palm. Xiao Qi leaned down to look, and his eyes met mine — a look of mingled grief and near-madness that I had never seen in his face before.
The Silken Bloom was of an exceptionally cold medicinal nature; if I could not withstand its effect, I would in all likelihood die from it; yet without it, though I might live, it would be no different from living as an empty shell. Weighing the two, Xiao Qi immediately saw into my heart, and the conclusion in his thoughts was surely the same as my own — only, for him to be the one who had to decide was, after all, a thing of terrible difficulty.
“I understand.” Xiao Qi looked at me with deep steadiness, and smiled with resolution. “Very well — let us gamble on it together.”
The physician immediately wrote out a prescription and prepared the decoction. A bowl of thick, dark medicine was fed to me by Xiao Qi himself.
All palace attendants and medical servants were dismissed from the outer chamber. The inner chamber was empty and quiet, the palace lamps hanging low, casting our shadows long across the floor.
He propped me up and leaned me back against the headboard, holding me tightly against him. Whether from the medicine taking effect or the poison asserting itself, my vision grew dark and my consciousness gradually clouded.
“A’Wu!” He called out low and urgent at my ear, shaking me gently. My body still had no sensation.
“I will not permit you to sleep. Keep your eyes open for me!” Xiao Qi tilted my face up, his voice pressed tight with urgency. “I am afraid that if you fall asleep, you will never wake again… Only hold on and come through this safely, and I will promise you anything — I will never again make you sad or cause you pain. Will you?”
Something in my heart felt both pain and sweetness. I struggled to open my eyes and gave him a faint smile. His two arms held me so tightly — even without feeling in my body, I could still hear his heartbeat. I wanted to say to him: I have not yet seen enough of your face — how could I bear to sleep away? I still want to watch as white hair grows at your temples, and grow old together with you.
“Shall I tell you a story?” He looked at me with an awkward smile and for the first time made the initiative offer to tell a story; in the past whenever I had pestered him into it, he would be at his wit’s end. If the wise and formidable Prince Regent still feared anything in this world, it must surely have been being pestered by his Princess Consort for stories. I smiled deeply, and looked at him quietly, watching him frown and think — and my heart felt soft and aching all at once… I thought to myself: even if I were to die before daybreak, I would feel no fear, because he had been beside me all along.
“What should I tell?” He murmured to himself in distress, and I laughed — he had always only known how to tell tales of battles and campaigns, of taking city after city. They were rather grim stories, and not particularly pleasant. But as long as they were his stories, I could listen to them a hundred times without tiring.
He drew me closer, his voice growing still more gentle. “Have I ever told you about the first time I saw you?”
I opened my eyes wide. The first time — that must have been at the wedding ceremony… He sighed and smiled before he began to speak. “You were only fifteen then — so young. Still almost a child.”
He said slowly with a smile, “At the ceremony, you were wearing an elaborate palace ensemble; your figure was still quite slight. No matter how one looked, you were still a little girl. And there was I — a man of my age, about to take this little girl into the bridal chamber. It truly gave me more difficulty than taking ten cities!” His smile was infuriatingly shameless. I was so mortified and cross that all I could do was glare at him as hard as I could, wishing I could leap up and bite his shoulder.
“After that, we were apart for three years… When I learned you had been taken hostage, I could not for the life of me call to mind what my Princess Consort looked like — I could only picture a child frightened into wailing.” He said with feeling, “The people I had sent out followed your trail all the way, dispatching reports unceasingly, telling me how you had tried to assassinate Helan Zhen, how you had set a fire and escaped, how you had forced Helan Zhen to execute his own men… I could not believe these things had been done by a child.”
I could not speak, and tears welled up quietly.
“I shall never forget that moment, for as long as I live — the blood and fire and battle smoke, and you appearing in the midst of the chaos…” He closed his eyes abruptly. “You were so astonishing — the blades and swords around you left not a mark on your splendor; even with your own life hanging by a thread in enemy hands, you showed not the slightest fear. I had never seen a woman with such fierce, unyielding resolve. In that moment, I finally understood what I had nearly lost!”
I looked at him, and tears slid away, dampening my hair at the temples.
“All this time, the woman I had longed for — one who could stand at my side, who could live and die with me — I had already been given her, yet had come so close to losing her for three whole years.”
A warmth, a single drop, fell on my cheek — his tears. He held me tightly, as though terrified that one moment of loosening would mean losing me. The warmth from his body gradually thawed my cold frame, all the way through to the depths of my heart.
I suddenly trembled. The feeling of warmth was so vivid and clear… It was true — I felt his body heat again. A faint sensation had returned. I summoned every last measure of my strength, and at last slowly raised my right hand, lifting it with great difficulty to cover the back of his hand.
He gave a start. He was dazed for a moment, then suddenly sprang to his feet. “You can move! A’Wu, you can move!”
I too was overcome with joy, yet let him draw me back into his arms, with nothing more I could say.
The bead curtain was lifted, and A’Yue came in carrying a medicine cup, smiling brightly. “Princess Consort, the medicine is ready. Your complexion looks so much better today.”
As they were laughing and talking, Aunt Xu entered with a solemn expression. Seeing me in the middle of taking my medicine, she quickly smiled instead. “The Princess Consort has improved greatly these past two days — it seems once this dose is finished, you should be quite well.”
I set down the medicine cup and took up a white cloth to dab the corner of my lips. Reading her solemn expression, I had already guessed something of it. “Has the Court of Judicial Review produced results?”
Aunt Xu bowed and said, “Yes. The assassin’s identity has been confirmed. She was indeed a former attendant of Xuanhe Palace, by the name of Liu Ying.”
Xuanhe Palace — the palace where Zi Lu had resided in former years. That evening I had caught sight of the lovely palace attendant and felt her to be strangely familiar; now that I thought back, she bore a vague resemblance to a certain maidservant who had been particularly favored in Zi Lu’s household in those days. She had been in the palace for a considerable length of time, yet no one had known she had martial training. Aunt Xu’s expression was grave. “The former attendants of Xuanhe Palace had all been sent away, and this Liu Ying had originally been transferred to the Laundry Office. Several days before the incident she was reassigned to the Imperial Kitchens. The one who took her there was a deputy supervisor of the Imperial Kitchens by the name of Li Zhong, who died suddenly of illness on the night of the incident.”
I gave no outward sign of reaction, only smiled faintly. The elimination of this witness had come quickly, but it was well within what one might expect.
Corridors upon corridors, halls behind halls — who could know how many secrets lay concealed within the depths of this vast palace?
After my aunt was attacked, I had used the chaos of the palace upheaval as an opportunity to purge the guards and remove all forces loyal to the late emperor. However, with the interests and allegiances in the palace so deeply intertwined, and anxious to avoid involving too many people and unsettling public sentiment, that purge had only gone so far. Then when my aunt’s treason was exposed and those implicated in the palace were punished across a wide swath, the scale of the killing was enough to make everyone in the palace tremble with dread and fill the entire inner court with panic. Since I took charge of the inner court, I had worked to soothe anxious spirits and quell the unrest, and though I had put an end to the killing, the thought of making a thorough cleansing of the palace had never left my mind — waiting only for the right moment to arrive.
Aunt Xu continued: “The Prince has ordered a thorough investigation of this case. The Court of Judicial Review has already detained those associated with Liu Ying in the Imperial Kitchens for questioning; those in the Laundry Office who had previous dealings with Liu Ying, and the former attendants of Xuanhe Palace, have likewise been imprisoned.”
I thought for a moment, then looked up at Aunt Xu with a raised brow. “Since the Court of Judicial Review has already begun the investigation, you may as well lend them a hand.”
Aunt Xu was taken aback. “What does the Princess Consort mean?”
I let my smile fall away and said coolly, “The old faction in the palace has not been rooted out. The time has also come to look into them properly.”
“This old servant understands.” Aunt Xu gave a visible start, then bowed deeply.
I said with deliberation, “Pass the word: any person in the palace who has privately spoken ill of court affairs, behaved improperly in conduct, or maintained close associations with the old faction — for every person named, one measure of punishment shall be remitted. Those who know and do not report shall have their entire families implicated.”
The most plentiful thing in the palace was the viciousness of the human heart — in order to save themselves, every person would race to expose the others.
What I needed was for everyone to live in fear, with the web drawing in as many as possible.
“This old servant will see to it at once.” Aunt Xu bowed, preparing to withdraw.
“Wait.” I called her back, and said impassively, “There is one person who can now be put to use.”
The cell that had never seen daylight was filled with a dank, moldy smell that washed over the face at the threshold. Even standing at the door, I felt cold throughout my body.
“This place is filthy — the Princess Consort had better wait here, and let this servant bring the person out for interrogation.” The matron of the Office of Discipline smiled with humble deference.
I said with a frown, “Aunt Xu will come in with me. Everyone else stays here — do not enter without being summoned.”
Aunt Xu went ahead with a lamp to light the way, passing through the dim corridor; the further in one went, the more oppressive and cold it became. Before the last small, narrow cell, a half-inch-square opening in the wall admitted a sliver of light, dimly illuminating something on the floor that shifted faintly. Aunt Xu brightened the lamp; in the great blaze of light, a dark heap of something in the corner of the wall suddenly startled and came skittering across the floor — an enormous spider. I let out a low cry and recoiled sharply.
“Princess Consort, careful.” Aunt Xu steadied me.
From the pile of straw and ragged cloth on the floor came a cold, sneering sound — a rasp almost beyond what a human voice could produce. “Young mistress, you have also come?”
If I had not looked carefully, I would nearly not have recognized the gaunt, filthy woman concealed within that heap, whose wax-yellow face, hauntingly familiar, was slowly raised to stare at me from beneath tangled hair, her deeply sunken eyes boring into me. “I always knew you would come sooner or later. Jin’er will be waiting for you on the road to the underworld!”
I examined her closely in the lamplight, searching her face for some trace of what she had once been, and found at last that the effort was hopeless. In their final moments, people are said to speak with kindness — yet even at this point, she could not release the venom lodged in her heart. “Jin’er, you may go in peace.” I looked at her steadily. “That child I have already settled properly. As for Zidan — I will give him an explanation.”
Hearing the words “go in peace,” Jin’er suddenly shuddered, and slumped limply against the pile of ragged cloth, her gaze glazed and fixed. A brief flicker of sorrow crossed my heart. “If you have any wish unfulfilled, you may tell me now.”
“Still performing your kindness in front of me at this moment? What a pity that His Highness misjudged you — you are the most venomous one of all!” She gave a rasping, cold laugh and spat hard on the ground before me. “Insolent!” Aunt Xu rebuked her.
I looked steadily at the woman before me, who appeared half-mad and half-crazed. After a long while, I said quietly, “As you say — Wang Xuan has never been a kind or good person. If she had been, the one imprisoned in this cell awaiting death today would not be you, but me — or even my entire Wang family.”
“Do you think the wealth and glory were won at no cost?” I laughed, a note of self-mockery in it. “All these years, you saw only my boundless splendor and never witnessed me treading on thin ice, trembling with fear. It is not only you, Su Jin’er, whose fate has been marked by hardship. In this world, for every measure of prominence, there is a measure of hardship behind it. You had a world of your own at one time — why torment yourself with envy of others?” Jin’er laughed bitterly. “My own world? When did I ever have a world of my own… From the time I was small I orbited around you — you were the sky, you were the earth. Whatever you wanted, you took; whatever you discarded, you cast aside. What I could not even attain in my dreams was worthless in your eyes. Even if I gave my life, I could not win even one genuine look of regard from him — yet you mistreated him so, drove him to be willing to die for you!” Her words entered me one by one, each striking into my flesh and blood. “You are right — everything you say is right.” I was still smiling. When I opened my mouth, my voice came out as dry and foreign as something not my own. “That is fate. You and Zidan — one who would not accept fate until death, one who accepted fate to death — and where did it leave either of you in the end? Some things one must fight for, and other things one must renounce… Even if you had been born to golden lineage as I was, and knew neither how to fight for what mattered nor how to let go, you would have come to exactly this same end.”
“You merely had good fortune — why should you alone claim everything?” She fell back on her pile of rags and screamed, “Even if I cannot be born as someone of golden lineage in my next life, I would sooner be reborn a pig or a dog than to be a maidservant again!”
Her wretched, piercing cries echoed through the cold and damp cell, pressing in on me from every direction.
I turned abruptly, swept my sleeve with force, and said, “Send Madam Su on her way.”
Su Jin’er, convicted of the crime of conspiring in an assassination attempt, was put to death by white silk in her cell. Her handprint was also pressed onto the list of accomplices.
The assassination of Liu Ying had, in truth, nothing to do with the false accusations made by Su Jin’er. The world knew only that Su Jin’er had offended the imperial family and been put to death for a capital crime. No one knew that I had drawn her into this assassination plot, using the name of a conspirator in the attempted murder — a name that would die with her, beyond all hope of appeal, dead and irrefutable. The people she had implicated with her dying “confession” would have no way to deny their involvement, even with a hundred mouths to speak.
When the detained servants of the Imperial Kitchens and the Laundry Office heard that Su Jin’er had confessed and been put to death, each was so terrified that their souls nearly left their bodies, dreading any association with the rebellious faction. Without waiting for the Court of Judicial Review to actually apply torture, they had already descended into internal chaos, each accusing the others — the viciousness of the human heart is sharper than the sharpest weapon in all the world, killing without a trace. Within a short time the number of persons implicated continued to grow; lists of accomplices arrived before me in stacks, and the entire inner court was shrouded in an atmosphere of terror and bewilderment.
Aunt Xu stood at one side with clasped hands, saying nothing. Before me, a thin booklet of names lay open, covered in fine, densely packed writing — this was the list of accomplices that had been verified through layer upon layer of scrutiny. I went through each name carefully. The great majority were heart-and-soul loyalists of the imperial family, people I had long intended to remove; now they had simply been swept up in one net by means of the Liu Ying affair.
Who could have foreseen that the cause of this bloody storm was nothing more than one weak woman’s passionate, reckless devotion?
Liu Ying was born into a military family and had entered the palace from childhood, attending upon Zi Lu’s side — though nominally a maidservant, in truth she had been his intimate favorite, and had long since given him her deepest love. In times of peace, she might have waited for Zi Lu to be enfeoffed and take formal consorts, after which she would have been received as a lesser consort, able to live out her days in quiet comfort. But she had the misfortune of being born into turbulent times: Zi Lu fled in rebellion, and met his end in battle, leaving behind a ruined name and not even a corpse to bury. An ordinary woman might have simply followed her master in death — yet what was lamentable was that Liu Ying’s nature was one of such fierce, loyal devotion. She had hidden her feelings and bided her time, waiting for an opportunity to assassinate Xiao Qi and avenge Zi Lu.
A mere palace maidservant — even one whose life was no more than a blade of grass — once pressed to the limits and resolved to fight to the death, could summon astonishing force. Only, by her own efforts alone, without someone to secretly assist her, how could she have come and gone so freely in the depths of the palace? From the Laundry Office to the Imperial Kitchens was the first step toward reaching Xiao Qi; rising from odd jobs in the Imperial Kitchens to become one who served at the table was the second step; and finally concealing lethal poison, poisoning the food first, and then taking up the blade to assassinate — this plan, though not particularly sophisticated, had been laid step by step, and in all likelihood someone of ability had been assisting her secretly along the way, clearing obstacles and concealing her traces.
Among the palace’s loyal adherents of the old imperial cause, those like Liu Ying were by no means few; and among those who had the capability to covertly control the various departments, only a handful could be named. These people had gathered in secret, their hearts fixed on their old master, harboring long-festering resentment against a strong minister and military man who had come to power by force. They lacked the courage and the means for open rebellion, yet prowled like rats in the night, waiting for their moment.
At the end of the list of names, two familiar names appeared with sudden clarity, causing me to start with a chill that spread to my palms.
I looked up at Aunt Xu. “This list — other than you and me, who else has seen it?”
“No one.” Aunt Xu bowed and replied, her expression grave.
With a sharp crack, I flung the booklet to the ground at her feet. “Aunt Xu, how could you have been so careless!”
Written on the last page of the booklet were plainly the names of two senior matrons in Yong’an Palace. The two were not loyalists of the old imperial faction, but bore deep resentment toward Xiao Qi on account of the Grand Empress Dowager. My aunt had long been lost in her blinded confusion; the matrons at her side had acted on their own initiative and become entangled in this affair. If word got out, how could the Grand Empress Dowager escape implication?
At high noon, I stepped into Yong’an Palace. I had not brought my usual retinue — only Aunt Xu and those closest to me accompanied me. Wherever I passed, the assembled attendants fell silent and bowed their heads; the solemn hall was quiet save for the rustling of skirts across the floor, and the cool sound of the swaying step ornaments and pendant jade.
The Grand Empress Dowager was taking her midday rest. I did not disturb her — even had she woken, she would have been in yet another kind of dream. Looking at my aunt’s aged and withered, yet tranquil and serene sleeping face, I did not know whether to feel envy or sorrow.
The two matrons had already been dressed in plain white garments, their hair unbound and their hairpins removed. They knelt motionless before the hall. Both had served my aunt for many years. Today, knowing that their affair had been exposed, they harbored no false hope; they sought only a quick death. I took the white silk from Aunt Xu’s hands and dropped it before them. “You have served the Grand Empress Dowager for many years. Your deeds are punishable by law; your hearts merit a measure of compassion. I grant you both the particular grace of a preserved body and burial.”
Those convicted of crimes in the palace were ordinarily wrapped in coarse matting and buried without ceremony in the common fields. To die with one’s body intact and be buried in one’s homeland was already an extraordinary mercy. The two matrons exchanged a glance, composed themselves, then bowed their heads toward me, and turned to kowtow three times in the direction of the inner chamber.
Nanny Wu took up the white silk and, turning to Nanny Zheng, smiled — the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes deep, serene, and at ease. “I will go first.”
“I shall follow shortly.” Nanny Zheng smiled gently back, her expression as peaceful as a young girl’s.
Aunt Xu looked away, lowering her face; her shoulders trembled slightly.
Nanny Wu cradled the white silk, and accompanied by two palace attendants walked slowly into the rear hall.
The two matrons of Yong’an Palace were put to death on the grounds of neglecting propriety and failing in their attendance upon the Grand Empress Dowager.
The Liu Ying case implicated the great and minor functionaries throughout the palace; the knowing conspirators and those complicit reached more than three hundred persons. Of those listed — one hundred and thirty-eight in all — some were faithful loyalists of the imperial family, others had spoken disparagingly of court affairs; all were imprisoned by the Office of Discipline. The remaining persons were mostly those who had been falsely accused by others without sufficient evidence of guilt, and I gave orders that they be pardoned and released. Those who were freed, having survived what felt like a brush with death, were without exception grateful and profoundly chastened.
The Court of Judicial Review traced every branch of Liu Ying’s family nine generations deep and found one collateral household that had given a lesser daughter in marriage as a concubine to the Marquis of Xiangdong.
The last remaining thread of imperial power in the court centered on the group of aristocratic scholars led by the Marquis of Xiangdong. On the surface, they submitted to Xiao Qi, but in private they gathered to air their discontent, privately opposed to having a military man in power, fanning resentment among aristocratic circles with veiled criticisms of military interference in governance — and they had long since drawn Xiao Qi’s intention to have them dealt with. Only the Marquis of Xiangdong was a man of particular cunning and caution, deeply concealing his true designs, such that even Xiao Qi’s informants spread throughout the court could find no evidence against him.
It was therefore unexpected that a straightforward case of conspiracy within the inner court should, by an oblique series of coincidences, uncover this thread connecting to the Marquis of Xiangdong, drawing the disaster out of the inner court and into the court of officials — pointing the way straight toward the remnant supporters of the old imperial cause. One could only imagine that the Marquis of Xiangdong, with all his cleverness and all his calculations, had never in his dreams conceived that he — because of one palace maidservant — would forfeit his life and everything with it.
With incontrovertible evidence before him, Xiao Qi immediately issued orders to have the entire household of the Marquis of Xiangdong imprisoned. Seven days later, they were executed in the marketplace. Fifteen associated accomplices were likewise put to death; the remaining persons implicated in the case were banished and demoted in accordance with the law. This storm of conspiracy and assassination, lasting more than a month, at last subsided in bloodshed. After this case, from the palace to the court, it was as though a great lightning storm and downpour had washed everything clean — the dead branches and withered leaves swept away — and all the remnants of the old faction were completely purged.