The twelfth year of Changxi, winter.
The capital city of the Tiansheng dynasty, the Imperial Capital.
Early in the morning, a misty haze had risen, floating between heaven and earth like a thin, coolly penetrating curtain. Settling upon the deep red, bright glazed tiles of the Qiu Mansion in Xihua Lane, it formed a layer of pale pinkish-white. That touch of deep red beneath the snow-colored frost flowers shed several parts of its brilliant intensity, taking on several parts gentle loveliness instead, like frost-touched frozen fruit.
Frozen fruit…
Feng Zhiwei swallowed, touching her suddenly rumbling belly.
Bright red persimmons ripened in deep autumn, frozen through in early winter’s first snow, mixed with a bit of premium Nine-Brew honey, served in a Jingfeng thin-walled snow-white porcelain cup—crystalline and beautifully red as glass. Take a sip—icy cool and sweetly refreshing, one jade-smooth mouthful sliding into her lungs, soothing away the unbearable dry heat that constantly coiled and refused to leave her chest.
What a pity… that seemed to be a pleasure from a previous lifetime already…
Feng Zhiwei gazed upward longingly, sighing almost imperceptibly, lazily waving her broom to sweep the accumulated snow from the path into the artificial lake by the roadside.
The broom handle was ice-cold, still accumulating bits of frozen snow. Ordinary people would feel cold just looking at it, yet Feng Zhiwei gripped it comfortably, feeling only that the coolness was truly refreshing.
Behind her suddenly came the tinkling sound of ornamental pendants. Rich fragrance followed, assaulting her senses. Feng Zhiwei didn’t turn around, but casually pressed her broom handle flat—some congealed ice beads rolled smoothly onto the ground ahead.
“Oh my, if it isn’t our Miss Feng?” The female voice behind her carried laughter, though that laugh was pervaded with contemptuous coldness. “So early in the morning, what are you doing?”
“As you can see,” Feng Zhiwei turned around, gathering her broom together. “Sweeping snow.”
“How could such servant’s work be done by our precious niece young miss?” The woman was over twenty years old, her makeup exquisite. Her eye corners tilted slightly upward, touched with faint silver-red rouge—this winter’s most fashionable “Flying Dimple” makeup style in the capital. “If your uncle knew about this, who knows how heartbroken he would be.”
Feng Zhiwei smiled faintly, lowering her lashes.
“Uncle manages ten thousand affairs daily—how could I trouble him with such small matters? Having Fifth Aunt care about me is enough.”
“Indeed. Your uncle holds the important positions of Commander of the Five Armies and Commander of the Flying Shadow Guard—the foremost military officer of the Tiansheng dynasty. He truly has no spare time to manage these rear courtyard affairs. Since you know your proper place, this aunt will naturally look after you more.” Fifth Yiniang, who had long fallen from favor in the Qiu Mansion, looked with satisfaction at Feng Zhiwei’s gentle, lowered face… This girl had always had a good temperament, could be kneaded and shaped however one wished without getting angry. Who would have thought that disgraceful Qiu family aunt would actually give birth to such a mild-mannered daughter?
“Why is Aunt out alone today?” Feng Zhiwei respectfully stepped aside, leaning her broom at an angle—simply omitting even that character “Fifth.”
Hearing this form of address, Fifth Yiniang’s mood greatly improved. Her slender fingers rested lazily at her lips, the crimson nail polish on her fingers setting off her flowing eyes. She laughed: “I heard someone came to the front. Perhaps I’ll be needed to attend… Well, you needn’t ask so many questions.”
Feng Zhiwei kept her face lowered, expressionless… The Tiansheng dynasty’s social customs were open. Imperial clan and high ministers were even more dissolute and romantic. In daily interactions, sharing beautiful concubines and mutually gifting serving concubines were common occurrences. The Qiu Mansion had numerous concubines. Fifth Yiniang’s beauty had not yet faded but her favor already had. Living lonely days in the Qiu Mansion, this early morning she dressed up splendidly and quietly went alone to the front courtyard—most likely she’d heard some noble personage had arrived and was thinking of staging a “stunning chance encounter” or something, hoping to flip like a carp and change her fate.
Just didn’t know which unlucky fellow had come.
“How can Aunt have no one attending her?” Feng Zhiwei set down her broom, reaching out to support Fifth Yiniang. “Let me help you.”
“Don’t! Your hands are dirty!” Fifth Yiniang slapped her hand away with a smack, looking with disgust at her snow-stained fingers, then glancing at the abnormal slight flush in her complexion, retreating a step as if avoiding plague.
Feng Zhiwei smiled humbly, drawing her hands into her sleeves.
“You’re already fifteen years old. Always staying in this rear courtyard isn’t proper.” Fifth Yiniang stood beside the snow pile, glancing at her sideways. “Another day I’ll speak with Madam about matching you with someone. You know Manager Liu’s son in the front courtyard—I think he’s quite good.”
Quite good indeed—attended private school for a full five years and still hadn’t memorized the Three Character Classic.
Feng Zhiwei continued smiling, her smile growing ever more gentle and quiet. Against her yellowish complexion, a pair of eyes flowed hazily and charmingly, gradually giving birth to several parts of flowing, dancing allure and glamour.
Fifth Yiniang glanced at her, her heart stirring… This girl, if not for her poor complexion, truly had fine looks. No wonder some people said she resembled that person…
But what did fine looks matter? With such an infamous background, still a sickly invalid who wouldn’t live long—beautiful but empty as flowers, destined to wither in the mud.
She sneered coldly, feeling she’d spoken enough with this girl today. On any other day, what mood would she have to bother with her? If not for Prince Chu arriving and arranging a private meeting with her in the rear courtyard, delighting her so much her heart bloomed with joy, she wouldn’t bother managing this girl’s lifelong affairs.
She raised her face, snorting coldly. Thinking of that Prince Chu, reputedly the Tiansheng dynasty’s most handsome and romantic, thinking of how she could henceforth escape the Qiu Mansion’s lonely days, her brows and eyes brimming with joy, she lifted her feet and walked away.
“Tssss—”
Her foot suddenly slipped, stepping on a ground full of small but slippery ice beads. Fifth Yiniang couldn’t maintain her footing. Her body tilted backward. She cried out in alarm, instinctively reaching out to grab wildly. Her fingers were about to touch the broom stuck in the snow pile beside her.
Feng Zhiwei suddenly took the broom away.
Fifth Yiniang grasped at empty air. With a “bang” she fell to the ground. The ground had a thin layer of floating snow over accumulated ice, extremely slippery. The moment Fifth Yiniang landed, she slid outward. And ahead lay the ice lake, its waters bone-chillingly cold in the depths of winter.
Fifth Yiniang, in a spinning, involuntary chaos, shouted frantically: “Help me! Help me!”
Feng Zhiwei watched that woman slide all the way over, slowly drawing her hands back into her sleeves, saying gently: “No. My hands are dirty.”
“Splash!”
The sound of a human body falling into water sounded just that light and casual. Feng Zhiwei smiled slightly, taking her broom and walking to the shore. Fifth Yiniang actually knew a bit about swimming and struggled, thrashing in the water. The water was too cold—her face instantly froze to a miserable blue-green color. Her oily, slick hair coil fell loose, dripping wet and sticking to her face like strips of black swimming serpents. She seemed already frozen speechless, or perhaps knew Feng Zhiwei wouldn’t save her—she only swam desperately, moving toward the shore.
Feng Zhiwei squatted by the shore, watching calmly. This place was already remote. Early in the morning with matters at the front, even fewer people would come. Fifth Yiniang losing her mind and passing through here was truly courting death.
The dripping wet person swam over. Her trembling fingers were just about to touch the shore when Feng Zhiwei’s broom gently pushed, pushing her away.
This push was for Mother.
Years ago when Mother brought her and her siblings back to the Qiu Mansion, they knelt before the Qiu Mansion’s gates for three days and three nights. On the third day the gate opened—a basin of foot-washing water came splashing out. Behind the gate holding the foot basin was precisely this Fifth Yiniang’s maidservant.
That too had been a heavy snow day, even colder than today. She knelt behind Mother, watching that foot-washing water freeze bit by bit on Mother’s hair. Afterward Mother ran a high fever for three days and nights, nearly losing her life.
Fifth Yiniang swam over a second time. The lake water stirred up large ripples. Her movements had already slowed considerably, her fingers stiffly trying to grasp a stone at the shore.
Feng Zhiwei extended her broom, pushing Fifth Yiniang outward.
This push was for herself.
Manager Liu was Fifth Yiniang’s distant relative. He’d long had his eye on her, first seeking to marry her as his second wife. After being refused, he then sought her hand for his idiot son—clearly plotting for father and son to share one woman. Mother had made a scene all the way to Uncle over this matter before that father and son finally quieted down. But just a few days ago, Manager Liu had cornered her in an unused old room. If not for the scissors she carried with her, the current Feng Zhiwei would either have become wife to both father and son, or been driven from the Qiu Mansion for losing her virtue.
Fifth Yiniang swam over a third time. This woman’s nature actually possessed several parts fierce ruthlessness. She no longer attempted to grasp the stones at the shore, but suddenly grabbed the broom, hugging it with her body and yanking hard downward.
“Splash!”
Feng Zhiwei was caught off guard—she was yanked into the lake!
The bone-chillingly cold lake water instantly surrounded her entire body. She shivered, thinking she would immediately freeze stiff. However, after that initial coldness passed, that ceaselessly coiling hot current within her body suddenly surged激烈ly, flowing like a fountain throughout her entire body. Colliding with the ice-cold outside, it neutralized into a temperature as comfortable as hot springs, rushing and stretching through blood vessels and meridians. She actually felt warm and comfortable, as if soaking in hot water.
Feng Zhiwei froze, instinctively touching her chest. From childhood she’d had a mysterious internal heat ailment, constantly dry and stifled, burning like fire, extremely craving coolness. Physicians declared she wouldn’t live past twenty. In everyone’s eyes, she was a person about to die.
This illness… probably had worsened? She didn’t even feel cold in winter lake water.
Her scalp suddenly tightened. The woman beside her grabbed her hair. Feng Zhiwei turned her head and saw that face already showing death’s pallor, bearing a trace of pale, savage smile. Fingers like vines tightly tangled in her hair, trying to drag her down to sink together.
Feng Zhiwei tilted her head, smiling at her.
“Snip.”
The snowy gleam of scissors flashed once on the jade-green lake surface. A strand of black hair floated leisurely down to the water’s surface, each individual hair distinctly spreading out.
Having grasped empty air, Fifth Yiniang could no longer hold on. Her head surfaced one last time before soundlessly sinking down.
Feng Zhiwei planted a foot on her head, pushing her down to sink even deeper—since she was destined to die, better to die quickly.
Borrowing this force, her body surged upward. In the water she coiled up her dripping wet hair—this lake water had dispersed all the dry heat within her body. She felt her body light and nimble, her mind clear and bright—so comfortable she actually didn’t want to leave.
So she continued soaking wetly in the water, thinking about the aftermath of this matter—how to disguise the traces on the shore, how to explain to Mother her suddenly shortened hair and soaked-through clothes.
None of these were problems for her. After a while she reached out to grasp the stones at the shore, preparing to climb up. Inadvertently her eye corner swept across the water’s surface. Her body suddenly froze rigid.
A tall reflection with flowing garment hems was reflected on the mirror-like water surface.