That one word — “Fuchun” — rang out like celestial music.

Fuchun cried in heartfelt earnest. “Your Highness still remembers your servant…”

Li Gu gave a nod. “The day I asked your name — I saw Princess Baohua.”

Though Fuchun was genuinely overcome with emotion, his mind nonetheless turned with great speed. Hearing what lay beneath a noble’s words, reading between the lines — this was a skill all those in his position had to cultivate.

Fuchun’s instinct seized upon the key phrase: “Princess Baohua.”

“Your Highness is correct,” he said, voice choked with feeling. “That year, when Your Highness first saw Princess Baohua, it was your servant who was attending to you at your side. The Princess held Your Highness and the General in great esteem, and even had your servant bring chairs for the two of you. Later, when the Princess wished to know more of Your Highness’s situation, she also dispatched your servant to go and find out for her…”

He was wiping his tears and speaking when he suddenly felt something was wrong.

It was too quiet.

Fuchun raised his eyes, and found the King of Hexi, the General, and the bodyguard all watching him in silence.

A jolt passed through Fuchun’s heart: had he said something wrong?

After a long moment, the King of Hexi said, “…Tell me everything about what happened back then.”

Several eunuchs were hiding behind a tree, staring with uncertain fascination at the group of people standing under the walkway in the distance.

“Xiao Fang’zi, you came from the main hall — is that really the King of Hexi over there?”

“Yes, yes, that’s the King of Hexi for certain!”

“Fuchun looks like he’s gotten the King of Hexi’s attention. Impressive!”

“How on earth did Fuchun manage to get on speaking terms with the King of Hexi? He’s something else!”

“Fuchun is going to rise up in the world!”

Setting aside the eunuchs’ mixture of envy and admiration, under the covered walkway, Li Gu sat on a bench, his back straight, and after listening to Fuchun’s account in full, he asked, “Why did she want to find out about me?”

Li Weifeng gave a slight cough and said quietly, “Just you — I was just a side note…”

Mantou raised one hand and covered the General’s mouth.

Fuchun said, “Your servant does not know the reason, but I vaguely remember hearing something from the older ladies of Zhaoxia Palace back then.”

“Ah!” Li Weifeng pulled Mantou’s hand away and struck his palm with his fist. “So it was Zhaoxia!”

Mantou brought both hands up and covered his mouth entirely.

Li Gu asked, “What did they say?”

“I heard the older ladies say…” Fuchun put on an air of recollection, then pinched his nose to mimic the tone and manner of a palace maid: “‘Her Highness said that the Li Shiyi Lang who came from Hexi is very good-looking.’ ‘Who would have thought — our Highness has grown up after all.'”

The walkway fell quiet again.

Mantou was holding Li Weifeng’s mouth shut. Li Weifeng was prying Mantou’s hand away. The two stopped where they were, looked at each other.

Both of them remembered very clearly that at that time, Princess Baohua had been thirteen — not yet fourteen.

The reason they remembered it so clearly was that Li Gu had received a gift of a golden saddle from Princess Baohua at that time, and had given her his personal meteorite-iron dagger as a birthday present in return.

Neither could help but look toward Li Gu.

Li Shiyi Lang’s gaze had drifted through the air, coming to rest somewhere unknown — but at the corner of his lips, there was the faintest trace of a smile.

A young girl at thirteen or fourteen — how to put it. At that age their height shoots up, the lines of their waist and hips begin to show, and a body that was once flat and angular starts to take on graceful curves. One simply can no longer see them as children.

Even the girls themselves no longer saw themselves as children. Fourteen was called the year of waiting for the hairpin ceremony — meaning adulthood was at hand. And once a girl had her coming-of-age ceremony, she was of marriageable age.

Girls of this age knew full well that their parents had begun considering potential husbands for them. So the glances they cast at young men were no longer the innocent looks of children — they were tinged with shyness and threaded with daydreams and longing.

Now and then someone would catch their heart. And for that person, they would feel a fledgling, indistinct tenderness.

This process, this particular state — was commonly called… a first awakening of the heart.

Truly the most irreplaceable, beautiful thing in life.

The smile at the corner of Li Gu’s lips flickered and vanished. He looked at Fuchun and asked, “Where is her Zhaoxia Palace?”

He said, “Take me to see it.”

To see the place where she grew up. To see the life she once lived.

Fuchun’s eyes stirred quickly, and the moment that smile left Li Gu’s lips he understood — he had found a foothold to climb upward.

His debt to Princess Baohua… was as great as that of being given a second life.

A scene all too familiar in the history books played out once more in Yunjing.

The assembled officials in the great hall memorialized the King of Hexi to ascend the throne and proclaim himself Emperor.

According to the civil officials’ intentions, he ought to decline at least three times before accepting, so that all the formalities could be observed with proper dignity. But the King of Hexi refused to follow their script — at the very first appeal, he simply nodded and said, “Very well.”

Zhang Gong, who had led the appeal, was struck speechless on the spot, and thought to himself: what unseemly eagerness.

Whatever he might be thinking inwardly, his face still wore an expression of aged and wholehearted relief, and he sighed with feeling that the people at last had their salvation and the realm its hope.

Then, the last Emperor of the former dynasty was brought in. He was trembling, far more aged than he had been, a defeated, deflated look between his brows, as though he were already on the verge of death.

Yet he clearly did not want to die — clearly very much wanted to live. And compared to the King of Hexi, he was far more cooperative.

He first enumerated his own crimes, making clear what a thoroughly unfit ruler he had been, then extolled at length how the King of Hexi had arisen in answer to heaven’s call and what manner of heaven-chosen man he was, and finally, with great sincerity, expressed his willingness to abdicate and yield the throne to the King of Hexi.

In this way, it was in accordance with the will of heaven and the hearts of men.

The former last Emperor of Zhao possessed such abundant literary talent that in his phrasing and allusions, most of the Hexi military commanders found themselves entirely lost — knowing only that they were words of praise.

The King of Hexi received all this without a trace of modesty, and without any show of reluctance, said directly, “Granted.”

Under everyone’s gaze, the King of Hexi rose. He was tall and upright, vigorous and martial. He was only twenty-six years old — young enough to beggar belief.

The honor of draping him in the dragon robe fell to his two sworn elder brothers. Li Wu Lang and Li Qi Lang held their breath, carefully placed the dragon robe on his shoulders, and then stepped back.

The entire hall knelt and called out long life to him.

Though the formal enthronement ceremony was still some days away, from this moment on, Li Gu was the Emperor.

The new Emperor, robed in the dragon robe, issued his first imperial decree.

He posthumously honored the former Hexi Military Commissioner Li Ming as King of Hexi, bestowed upon him the Three Excellencies and the title of Grand Pillar of the State, and conferred the posthumous title “Loyal and Martial.” He posthumously honored Li Ming’s ancestors back three generations. He enfeoffed Li Ming’s (adopted) granddaughter of the Li clan as the Hexi Commandery Princess, and promised that in time a husband would be chosen for her to marry into her household, so that the line of the King of Hexi would continue unbroken.

In this decree, the new Emperor skipped over Li Ming’s daughter Li Zhenzhen — naturally because Li Zhenzhen was already his wife, and she would have her own place in the harem in due course.

The entire hall praised the new Emperor for his “benevolence and righteousness,” and flattery poured forth in waves.

The historian’s pair of cool, detached eyes took in everything with unwavering clarity, and his sharp brush vividly recorded the scene in the hall at that time —

Everyone praised the Emperor, save that Grand General Li Da remained silent and said nothing, Grand General Li Mao turned his head aside and wept, Grand General Li Weifeng covered his face with his sleeve, and Grand General Li Chongming choked with grief.

The last ruler of Zhao bowed his head to the ground, and remained so until the end.

The new Emperor’s three principal wives arrived in Yunjing before the formal enthronement ceremony, and with them came the first imperial son.

Deng Wanniang and Cui Yingniang had given birth one after the other. The Deng consort had a daughter, and the Cui consort had borne the first imperial son.

The first imperial son was now two years old, plump and rosy, a picture of robust health. The daughter of Deng Wanniang, however, had died before she was ten months old.

The death of young children was very common, and even royal and noble families and the imperial house could not escape it. For this reason, people of the time commonly gave their children humble names to ward off heaven’s jealousy, and it was not until a child passed the age of five — when deaths dropped sharply — that they were considered to have “taken root.”

Li Zhenzhen, Deng Wanniang, and Cui Yingniang had not seen Li Gu for three years. Though he had written letters, they were mostly brief and to the point — only a word or two of reassurance, at most mentioning that he had pushed to a certain place, or had taken some city a few days prior, and urging them to take care of their health and not be alarmed.

At the end of each letter, he would always add one line: “In all matters of the household, follow the judgment of Elder Sister. You two defer to her.”

Deng Wanniang had been the first to change how she addressed Li Zhenzhen, calling her “Elder Sister” instead of simply “Sister.”

It was simply because when she had first married in, she had not been sufficiently respectful and had offended Li Zhenzhen, and had been held in check ever since. When Cui Yingniang then bore a son while she had only a daughter, she finally swallowed her pride and made efforts to please Li Zhenzhen.

Before, they had both called Li Zhenzhen “Sister” — a term any older woman could be addressed by, without particular significance.

Changing the address to “Elder Sister” at once set apart Li Zhenzhen’s status and standing within the Li household.

Deng Wanniang had already changed her address, and Cui Yingniang, who was by nature far more deferential, naturally would not hold firm and changed hers shortly after.

Li Zhenzhen held firm authority over both of them.

After three years apart, the three women finally saw Li Shiyi Lang again.

Li Zhenzhen held the hand of the newly minted Hexi Commandery Princess. Deng Wanniang stood alone. And Cui Yingniang’s arms cradled a plump, rosy infant.

Li Gu had no time to exchange pleasantries with them — his gaze was entirely captured by the child in Cui Yingniang’s arms. He fixed his eyes on this child in a steady stare.

Li Zhenzhen did not take offense, and laughed, saying, “Too happy to move? Go on and hold him — this is your son!”

She laughed and sighed: “You have a son now!”

This truly struck at the deepest part of Li Gu’s heart. The custom of the time held that grandfathers held babies but fathers did not, and fathers were expected to be stern rather than tender.

Yet after hearing Li Zhenzhen’s words, Li Gu emerged from his daze, reached out, and took the child into his arms.

Cui Yingniang passed the child to him, but noticed that the young Emperor was trembling with nervousness. She pressed her lips together, suppressing a smile, and kept her hands beneath his, supporting the child together with him until she was certain he had a firm hold before withdrawing.

Deng Wanniang’s eyes dimmed slightly.

Li Gu stared at the plump, pale little creature in his arms. After a long moment, he called softly, “Qingque?”

This was the name he had given the child. Qingque was a name for a strong bird, meant to wish the child good health — the most plain and heartfelt wish of a man holding his child for the first time as a father.

Qingque was indeed remarkably healthy. A pair of dark, bright eyes like glossy glass beads watched Li Gu with curiosity while he sucked contentedly at his thumb, making soft, satisfied sounds.

Cui Yingniang said, “Qingque, call Father.”

Qingque opened his mouth, let go of his thumb, and called out without any shyness, “Father.”

“Yes, yes!” Li Gu answered. His eyes were full of warmth and joy.

He invited everyone to sit, yet showed no intention whatsoever of letting go of his son. Cui Yingniang watched the father and son with a gentle smile and did not press him.

The couple and the others exchanged words about the years that had passed. Matters of the household held no interest for Li Gu, and great affairs of the outside world were not for the women to ask after, so their conversation amounted to little more than mutual inquiries after health, and praise that the little Commandery Princess had grown up and become beautiful.

The Commandery Princess was now ten years old. Though she knew this was her maternal uncle, three years apart had made him a stranger to her, and she treated him as she would anyone unfamiliar, staying close to her mother’s side and keeping very quiet.

Three years had passed, and even Cui Yingniang and Deng Wanniang, who had once been wives to Li Gu in the full sense, felt a certain strangeness toward him. Their own husband carried himself with even greater dignity and authority than three years before. But with warm and gentle inquiries, that strangeness quickly dissolved.

After they had exchanged greetings, Li Gu had three young women brought in to meet them.

“Hui Niang, Ru Niang, Man Niang — come and pay your respects to the ladies,” Li Gu said. “Man Niang, you need not bow.”

Li Zhenzhen and the other two had long known of these three women. They had joined Li Gu’s household one by one as he made his way south over the past three years. Of the three, Man Niang’s belly was visibly swollen — she was with child.

The three principal wives sat upright without moving, and received the bows of Hui Niang and Ru Niang.

Li Gu said, “You have all had a long journey. Let Hui Niang take you to wash and rest first, and tonight we will eat a reunion dinner together.”

He handed Qingque back only when Cui Yingniang reached out to take him, doing so with reluctance.

Li Zhenzhen stayed behind and asked, “What arrangements are to be made for these three — give me a clear picture so I know what I am working with.”

They were all women of decent birth and fine appearance, and yet they had joined Li Gu’s household on the road south, without even proper ceremonies — and simply became his women.

Li Gu answered in his customary few words: “Concubines.”

Li Zhenzhen smiled.

She had seen it herself just now — the three women showed great deference and caution toward Li Gu, walking on eggshells around him, nothing like the ease and comfort Cui Yingniang and Deng Wanniang showed. And though Li Gu was civil to them, it was nothing like the warmth and tenderness he had once shown to Cui and Deng back at the residence.

Men were always this way — always accumulating more women. And with more women, whatever feelings and love he had were divided and thinned. The more women, the thinner each share became.

Li Zhenzhen’s position, of course, was that the more women Li Gu had, the better. In that way, she could stand all the more unassailably secure.

It was a pity Xie Yuzhang was not here at this moment. Had she been, she would surely have been resting her chin on her hand, eyes sparkling with delight, turning to say to Lin Fei: “My, look at this! Li Gu’s three consorts and three concubines, all assembled.”

The Empress and the beauties of the harem — not far off now.