Snow began falling again early this morning, floating like willow catkins and blanketing everything in sight. Icicles hung from eaves, covering the world in silver. People saw a woman with frost and snow on her head and shoulders, kneeling and crawling along the main Vermilion Bird Street towards Daming Palace. The snow on the bluestone road was knee-deep, and Zhu Yan’s knees left two long trails behind her.
“Who is that?”
Someone recognized her: “It’s the Zhu Family’s Sixth Miss. She’s pleading innocence for the White King of Hell.”
“Tsk, someone’s still pleading for the White King of Hell? Aren’t they afraid of retribution from the Black King of Hell?”
“Hush. At least she’s loyal. I heard she hasn’t even consummated her marriage with the White King of Hell.”
A crowd gathered, and some elders tried to persuade Zhu Yan to go home.
“Young lady, kneeling in the snow like this will freeze you.”
Zhu Yan thanked them but continued. Soon, few tried to dissuade her.
News quickly reached Lai Luozhi’s ears. Unable to intervene directly, he sent men to “greet” Zhu Yan, intending to kill her in the street.
In the crowd, Jing Lin wore a conical hat and clenched his fists, restraining himself. He soon sensed danger and looked around at the rooftops. The falling snow obscured his view, but he felt a presence.
Jing Lin took a step forward. With him there, he wouldn’t let anything happen to Zhu Yan.
In the blink of an eye, amidst the heavy snow, over a dozen men suddenly descended towards Zhu Yan. She didn’t notice as she kowtowed. Just as they were about to land beside her, the hidden Bufei emerged from the crowd at a whistle from their leader, Xu Xiangren. They wore conical hats and masks bearing the Bufei emblem, and dressed in plain clothes with sabers at their waists.
The two groups clashed. Jing Lin mixed in, taking the lead in protecting Zhu Yan and driving back the attackers.
When Zhu Yan looked up, she saw the melee. She was stunned briefly, but quickly recovered and continued crawling forward on her knees, holding up a petition and crying for justice.
Only then did Jing Lin see clearly that the petition Zhu Yan held was blank.
Since ancient times, those pleading for justice always detailed their grievances. How could there be a blank petition?
Doubts arose in Jing Lin’s mind, distracting him. One attacker seized the opportunity to throw a dart directly at Zhu Yan.
Zhu Yan had no way to dodge. She closed her eyes, ready to die. But she heard the clang of metal and opened her eyes to see a familiar pair of eyes behind a mask. It was Yunque, who came to help.
Jing Lin felt guilty and quickly thanked Yunque. Yunque nodded without speaking much, joining Jing Lin in escorting Zhu Yan toward Daming Palace.
Zhu Yan chose to kneel and plead on Vermilion Bird Street rather than wait until she entered Daming Palace, following Mo Qianzhi’s method. She wanted the common people to know about this to ensure her safety.
The clash of weapons continued, but Zhu Yan remained focused, kneeling and pleading all the way. Her robes were occasionally damaged by weapons, but she managed to reach the gates of Daming Palace safely.
Being stopped by the guards was expected. She produced the palace token the Empress had given her and entered Daming Palace smoothly.
At this point, the Bufei’s task was complete. The assassins, frustrated at not even touching a hair on Zhu Yan’s head, scattered at their leader’s command to report back to their master.
The Bufei remained outside the palace gates, waiting for Zhu Yan to emerge.
By the time Zhu Yan crawled on her knees to the Empress’s bedchamber, the fabric at her knees was worn through. Frost and snow had soaked her clothes and frozen, like ice pressed against her skin, bitingly cold.
Her legs were frozen and numb, but Zhu Yan seemed unaware. She knelt there, back straight, holding up the blank petition and crying out:
“Your Majesty, the treacherous official Lai abuses his power, distorts right and wrong, and falsely accuses Grand Secretary Shen Du. Grand Secretary Shen Du’s loyalty is as clear as the sun and moon. Please, Your Majesty, right this wrong against Shen Du.”
Empress Zhou Zhao had recently claimed illness and stopped attending court. Due to the cold, she had been resting in her bedchamber, refusing even Princess Chaoyang who came to discuss state affairs, telling her to find Xu Zhaorong instead.
Zhu Yan cried out until her voice was hoarse, but the palace doors remained tightly shut, with no response.
By noon, the snow fell even heavier. The sky was an oppressive grey. Soon, Zhu Yan’s lower body was covered in frost and snow, making her look like a snowman.
Zhang Baohuan glanced out the window, her eyes showing some pity. She turned and came nimbly to the Empress’s side. After some hesitation, she finally spoke: “Your Majesty.”
The Empress finally opened her eyes, staring at the palace doors with some impatience: “Ignore her.”
She closed her eyes again.
Zhang Baohuan had much to say but no place to say it. She massaged the Empress’s shoulders while her mind raced.
Outside, Zhu Yan swayed, about to collapse. Kneeling in this frigid snow, she seemed about to be swallowed by the vast world.
Seeing no movement or anyone coming to open the door, Zhu Yan steeled herself and began kowtowing.
Zhang Baohuan couldn’t bear to watch any longer. She came out and stopped Zhu Yan from kowtowing, taking the petition from her hand and tossing her a bottle of medicine for wounds, gesturing to her forehead.
Zhu Yan raised her hand to feel her forehead, touching fresh blood mixed with ice. Her frozen face twisted into an ugly smile.
Inside, when the Empress saw the blank petition, flames surged in her phoenix eyes. After a moment’s thought, she instructed Zhang Baohuan to grind ink.
After a while, Zhang Baohuan came out from inside. He held an imperial edict and shook his head slightly at Zhu Yan kneeling on the ground.
“Her Majesty won’t see me?” Zhu Yan’s throat burned, her forehead hot, clinging to a stubborn thread of consciousness.
But Zhang Baohuan ignored her and left.
Xu Zhaorong came from another direction, holding an oil-paper umbrella and medicine. She helped Zhu Yan up from the snow. Zhu Yan stumbled, moving on frozen legs to stand unsteadily.
After looking Zhu Yan over, Xu Wan discarded the umbrella and carefully applied medicine to her forehead.
The concern was evident in Xu Wan’s eyes. After finishing, she pressed the medicine into Zhu Yan’s hand, saying resignedly: “Everything is fated. Just watch, for now, don’t dwell on this matter anymore. Go home quickly.”
She then put the oil-paper umbrella in Zhu Yan’s hand and turned to enter the palace.
Zhu Yan stared at the palace doors for a long while, hesitating and unsure what to do. Remembering Zhang Baohuan had left with an imperial edict with purple borders, likely concerning Shen Du, she couldn’t wait. She started hurrying towards the palace exit but stumbled and fell, her legs numb from kneeling so long.
Zhu Yan didn’t delay. She crawled over to pick up the medicine bottle, tucked it into her clothes, grabbed the umbrella, and limped towards the exit.
The Bufei were still waiting for Zhu Yan. Seeing her emerge unharmed, they were relieved. Fearing further incidents, they found a carriage to escort her home.
Zhu Yan was touched, but worried about the imperial edict and Shen Du. She kept urging them on, soon arriving at Shen Manor in Anning Ward.
The Bufei dispersed, leaving only Jing Lin, disguised as one of them, to accompany her.
Unlike when she left, now many people gathered outside Shen Manor. Seeing her arrive, the discussions grew louder.
“At least the White King of Hell was white. Now everything’s controlled by the Black King of Hell. Won’t life be even harder from now on…”
“Don’t say that. Be careful or you’ll lose your head.”
Zhu Yan was puzzled. She exchanged a glance with Jing Lin, who still wore his hat and mask, equally confused.