Anle’s eyes went wide, unable to believe such words could have come from the Crown Prince’s mouth. The Crown Prince—her Crown Prince brother had always, always doted on her the most.

He was blaming her for being useless, for failing to lend him support at court.

Then he should go find Pingyang to be his sister.

Tears glistened in Anle’s eyes. The person before her felt terrifyingly unfamiliar, and she never wanted to see him again.

She turned and ran, tears falling as she fled.

The Crown Prince made to go after her, but at that moment his personal attendant eunuch rushed over. “Your Highness, Sir Cui Jinzhi has just returned from Yongtong Canal.”

The Crown Prince’s steps halted at once.

He glanced toward the direction Anle had run, saw that she was trailed by a string of maids and eunuchs, and withdrew his gaze.

Anle could wait. What mattered now was the grain levy. He had to go find Cui Jinzhi at once.

The Crown Prince turned to the young eunuch and said, “Go find Yang Fang and have him come comfort Anle. Don’t let her wander off.”

With that, he hurried away.

After all the voices had receded, it was as though the air inside the ornamental rocks could breathe again.

Hong Luo finally dared exhale. A mosquito had been hovering right in front of her face, and she had not dared so much as move. Now that the Crown Prince was gone, she quickly waved it away.

How… how could the Crown Prince say such things about the Princess?

Hong Luo quickly looked to Li Shu, only to find that Li Shu stood perfectly still—not moving at all. Her gaze seemed to have lost focus, fixed on some point no one could determine.

Hong Luo was flustered. She rushed to take hold of Li Shu’s arm.

“Your Highness, you…”

Afraid that Li Shu had taken the words just now to heart and was sinking into despair, and unable to care any longer about decorum, Hong Luo shook Li Shu’s arm urgently. “Your Highness?”

Li Shu was stirred back to herself by the shaking. She turned to look at Hong Luo and slowly shook her head. “I am all right.”

Her face held no expression at all. Hong Luo could not make out her mood.

In truth, at this moment she felt nothing—not even anger.

She should have long understood what she was in the Crown Prince’s eyes. But these past years she had been dazzled by the wealth and power around her, and had convinced herself that she was entirely different from what she used to be.

She had thought that having climbed this high, having attained such noble rank, she was different in other people’s eyes. That they would value her now. That they would think something of her.

But nothing had changed, it turned out. All these years later, she was still that small girl in the desolate palace wing whom no one paid any attention to.

The midday cicadas droned on and on, making the silence around her feel even more absolute. Li Shu suddenly remembered her childhood—it was not long after her mother had died; the courtyard stood vast and empty, an old palace maidservant was dozing on the veranda, and she stood on the high threshold, not knowing what to do with herself.

The day stretched endlessly, each hour so long, so hollowed out, as though it would never end.

She had slipped away from the palace wing without anyone noticing, not knowing where she was going, wandering in a daze until she lost her way and finally found herself trapped in the ornamental rocks of the imperial garden. That midday lasted an eternity. She waited a very long time before anyone passed by—and then at last came a light, brisk set of footsteps.

That person heard the movement from inside the rocks, poked his head in to look, and said, “Hey, what are you doing crouching in there?”

He smiled with a bright, easy confidence.

He had taken her by the hand and led her out of the ornamental rocks. He brought her to the pavilion on a nearby hillock to escape the heat. Standing in the pavilion, looking down from above, Li Shu discovered for the first time that the rocks that had imprisoned her were only a small, insignificant heap.

She had been trapped in a tiny, confined world, and it was he who had brought her out of it.

Li Shu had looked up at him and recognized him as the recently arrived companion to the imperial children—the youngest legitimate son of the Cuiguo ducal house, Cui the Third.

All these years had passed. Power and wealth were both clenched in her palm. The helplessness of those endlessly long childhood days had not visited her for a very long time—yet now it swept back all at once, like a tide.

Li Shu closed her hand around nothing. For all she seemed to have seized so much, her palm was in truth empty.

It seemed that through all these years, only Cui Jinzhi had been at her side. Whatever love he did or did not feel for her, at least he was always there with her.

Li Shu closed her eyes. In this moment, she suddenly missed him very much.

*

Having at last sorted out the chaos at Yongtong Canal, Cui Jinzhi rode at full speed back to the palace. He had barely entered the palace gates, not yet recovered his breath, when a young eunuch spotted him and hurried over. “Sir Consort, you have finally come back! His Highness the Crown Prince is asking for you urgently!”

The eunuch sounded urgent, and Cui Jinzhi knew it was not a small matter. Without even bothering to wipe the sweat from his brow, he followed the young eunuch and set off at once.

He first paid his respects to the Empress, who was watching a performance with the ladies of the court. When Cui Jinzhi stepped forward to bow, he cast a quick glance around—and did not see Li Shu.

He wondered what Father Emperor had privately said to her this morning.

Cui Jinzhi had a nagging sense of unease.

After bowing to the Empress, Cui Jinzhi said, “Things at Yongtong Canal were pressing. Today is Your Empress’s birthday, and I left mid-celebration—I truly have been disrespectful.”

The Empress, seeing the faint sheen of sweat still on his brow, was moved to unusual thoughtfulness. “You were racing about on serious business. Why would I blame you? Go cool yourself for a moment, wipe the sweat away. It is so hot—don’t let yourself get heatstroke.”

In her early years, the Empress had actually not thought much of Cui Jinzhi. She felt he had no real ability.

Just another dissipated young man from a noble house—cleverer than most, perhaps, but whose cleverness was never applied to anything worthwhile, wasting his days in idle pleasures outside. This sort of dissolute man was a common sight throughout Chang’an, and without his family’s backing, they were nothing.

So when Pingyang had later married Cui Jinzhi in Anle’s place, the Empress had actually breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

But the Empress had, in the end, misjudged him.

Five years ago, the two legitimate elder sons of the Cui family had died in succession on the southern frontier, and the old Duke of Cuiguo had taken to his sickbed. The Cui family—whose prestige had once been such that a single stamped foot shook the capital three times—had plummeted from its perch at the pinnacle of power.

The Cui family was not the first great house to meet such a fate. Since Emperor Zhengyuan had ascended to the throne, several prominent clans had already tumbled from the heights of power and never recovered.

But no one had expected that the seemingly dissipated and worthless Cui Jinzhi would, overnight, transform completely. With startling speed, he took over all the family’s remaining power, swiftly attached himself to the Crown Prince, and single-handedly propped up the Cui family’s standing by sheer force of will.

At court, every great house—whether a century-old clan or a newly risen one—had officials from its main and branch lines filling the halls, so that call out “Lord Xiao” or “Lord Zheng” and half the court would turn their heads. But call out “Lord Cui” today, and only Cui Jinzhi remained to answer.

Cui Jinzhi returned the bow to the Empress and stepped back, but did not rush to change his clothes. He found an unoccupied pavilion and stood in it for a while to cool down. He then spotted the Crown Prince walking over from the direction of the imperial garden.

The Crown Prince came striding over and, without preamble, unleashed his irritation. “Go and talk some sense into Pingyang for me!”

Cui Jinzhi had only now caught his breath. Seeing the Crown Prince descend on him in a foul mood right out of the gate, he felt no anger in return.

The Crown Prince was always like this—he wore the face of a virtuous ruler in public and had to let it all out behind closed doors. He had served the Crown Prince for years. He was long used to it.

Cui Jinzhi: “What happened with Little Sparrow? Was it today, when His Majesty called her over—”

“Exactly!” The Crown Prince cut him off. “Do you know what Father Emperor called Pingyang over for?”

The Crown Prince paced a step or two in agitation. “He told Pingyang to give Second Brother the grain! Ha—you see how Father Emperor dotes on Second Brother! Today he has Pingyang lend grain to Second Brother; tomorrow will he ask me to vacate the Eastern Palace for him?”

The Crown Prince had been seething all day with nowhere to release it. He could not let his temper fly at Li Shu for fear she would stop cooperating on the grain matter; he could not blow up at Anle because Anle’s temper was worse than his. Now that he had Cui Jinzhi before him, all the pent-up frustration of the day poured out at once.

Whatever he did to Cui Jinzhi, Cui Jinzhi would never break faith with him. The Crown Prince was certain of this.

Cui Jinzhi glanced around carefully in all directions, then said in a low voice, “Your Highness, please watch your words! If someone should overhear such remarks and they reached His Majesty’s ears…”

He stopped without finishing, and let out a long, heavy breath.

If the Crown Prince were only a bit wiser and more composed, serving him would be far easier, and he would not now be caught off guard by a concubine-born Second Prince at court.

But the reason the Crown Prince was Crown Prince was not his mind—it was the Empress’s womb.

Cui Jinzhi had no choice.

At those words, the Crown Prince did shut his mouth in frustration.

Cui Jinzhi tucked away his own vexation. “And what did Little Sparrow say in reply to His Majesty?”

The Crown Prince still sounded aggrieved. “She said she hadn’t agreed to Father Emperor’s request. But I clearly had the feeling that Pingyang’s resolve was not firm.”

Cui Jinzhi let out a soft sigh.

How could she be firm? This was an order from the Emperor himself. Even if the Crown Prince stood before the Emperor in person, even he could not be firm.

Little Sparrow said she had not agreed to release the grain, and Cui Jinzhi believed her. He never doubted her.

Facing opposition against the Emperor must have placed immense pressure on her today. No wonder she had not joined the others in watching the performance. When she was under pressure, she liked to find a quiet corner alone—she had probably gone to crouch in the ornamental rocks by now. Li Shu had had that habit since she was small. When he could not find her, nine times out of ten he could pull her out from among the ornamental rocks in the imperial garden.

The Crown Prince said, “Go find Pingyang and talk her around for me. She absolutely cannot break away from me over this grain business!”

The tone of an outright command.

Cui Jinzhi showed no resentment at the Crown Prince’s manner and simply nodded in compliance.

Seeing Cui Jinzhi agree, the Crown Prince finally felt some relief, and turned toward the stage.

Many things he did not need to do himself—he simply had to find Cui Jinzhi, say one word, and consider it done. Cui Jinzhi could accomplish many things for him, and was wonderfully useful.

*

After his exchange with the Crown Prince, Cui Jinzhi still had lingering sweat on his back that had not yet dried, but he had no time to cool down. He followed a side path straight toward the ornamental rocks of the imperial garden.

She must be feeling helpless right now, he thought.

Talking her out of betraying the Crown Prince was the lesser priority; finding her and being at her side was the most important thing.

But he had circled the entire ornamental rock formation without finding her. He then followed the quiet stretch along the lakeside, and suddenly heard a “splash” from up ahead—someone had thrown a stone into the lake, and several drops of water flicked onto him.

Cui Jinzhi looked up and saw Princess Anle sitting on a large flat rock by the lake. A chain of maids and eunuchs stood at a respectful distance, craning their necks to peer this way, terrified the Princess might be in a foul mood and do something rash.

Cui Jinzhi was about to step aside and take a different path, but Anle had already spotted him. Her round eyes locked onto him. With an inward sigh, he could only go forward and bow. “Greetings to Princess Anle.”

He rose from the bow and, looking closer, could see that Anle’s eyes were reddened—she had likely just been crying. Cui Jinzhi saw it clearly but said not a single word of concern, because years ago he and Anle had nearly been engaged. Ever since, he had been deliberately keeping his distance to avoid any hint of impropriety.

Yet saying nothing at all was also awkward. Cui Jinzhi said, “Has the Princess by any chance seen Pingyang? I have been looking for her for quite some time.”

This, however, seemed to set off a powder keg inside Anle. She blazed up at once. “Pingyang, Pingyang! Everyone is looking for Pingyang. How would I know where she is?”

Yet even as the words left her mouth, her eyes grew even redder than before. She hugged her knees and curled up on the flat rock, the picture of one who has suffered a profound wrong—all alone in the world.

“I hate Pingyang… don’t mention her in front of me!”