“Li Shu, damn you, Li Shu — you’re driving me to my death!”

Li Yan was a man who could draw a hundred-stone bow; his grip was so powerful it felt as though he would crush her wrist to splinters. Yet Li Shu showed not the slightest sign of begging for mercy. She only furrowed her brow, then slowly, ever so faintly, let out a soft laugh.

“Second Brother, where in this world is there truly a dead end? The grain in the imperial granaries cannot be touched, and the grain from private markets has already been exhausted — but Daxing City is full of great aristocratic clans. Which of their estates does not have a grain storehouse?”

Li Yan froze. He stared at Li Shu in disbelief, as though he could not believe these words had come from her mouth. “…Those aristocratic clans all belong to the Crown Prince’s faction. How could they possibly lend me grain?”

Li Yan let out a bitter laugh and slowly loosened his grip on Li Shu’s wrist. “Little Sparrow, you know how hard it has been for me to climb to where I am today. I schemed with every ounce of wit I had to wrest the Ministry of Finance from the Crown Prince’s hands. I know the Crown Prince hates me. I also know that Cui Jinzhi is his most loyal supporter, and that the day you married him, you became part of the Crown Prince’s camp. But I thought — even if our positions are different, at least privately we still cared for each other… I never imagined… never imagined that the scheme to destroy me would come from your own lips…”

“When we were children, we were so close…”

Li Yan’s mother had once offended the Empress and was kept firmly out of favor ever since, her disgrace extending to Li Yan himself, who was similarly neglected.

In a desolate courtyard thick with weeds, separated by a wall from another even less favored illegitimate princess. Word was that her mother had been of low birth and had died early, leaving her with only a few aged palace maids to raise her through the palace years. Li Yan had once climbed over that wall and found the weeds on the other side growing even wilder, as though they might swallow a person’s entire life. A small girl with dry, yellowed hair suddenly rose up from within the weeds — she stood only just taller than the grass. Facing the sunlight, Li Yan saw that she had a pair of eyes sharp and clear as glass.

An unfavored prince and an unfavored princess, growing up together in a barren and neglected corner of the palace, until they began to transform, began to shine, until they finally received the most exalted of favor and power — and in doing so, lost the warmth they had once shared.

Li Shu’s thoughts flickered briefly to those childhood days, but she cast the memories aside almost immediately. Her expression remained as indifferent as ever. Abruptly she said, “Second Brother, do you find my clothes and jewelry beautiful?”

Li Yan was baffled. “What are you talking about?”

Li Shu reached up and removed the ornamental hairpin she wore at her temple — a finely carved piece set with costly red carnelian agate.

She lowered her eyes and studied the hairpin in her hand, her voice so detached it seemed to drift in from somewhere very far away.

“Second Brother, you did not come easily to the position you hold today — but neither did I come easily to where I stand. We both climbed up from the very bottom of the palace, step by step. The favor we enjoy today, the wealth we hold today, the power we wield today — these are all things that, when we were children, we never dared to dream of. Like the clothes on my back and the pin in my hair: when I was small, I could never have imagined that one day I would be dressed in such splendor and opulence.”

Li Shu suddenly raised her head and fixed Li Yan with an unwavering stare. The gaze that was always so cold and detached now seemed to hold a fire burning within it. “The Cui clan belongs to the Crown Prince’s faction. From the day I married Cui Jinzhi, I stepped onto the Crown Prince’s vessel. In political struggle, there is no winning or losing — there is only living or dying. The Crown Prince must take that seat on the throne, and only then can I keep the favor and glory I hold today. If the Crown Prince were to lose…”

Li Shu closed her eyes briefly. Her tone was cold and resolute. “For my own sake, I cannot allow the Crown Prince to lose. Second Brother, from the day I married Cui Jinzhi, you and I parted ways. You know what I am like when it comes to enemies…”

Li Shu raised her hand and held the hairpin clasped in her palm, then slowly pointed it at Li Yan’s heart.

She curved her lips in the sardonic smile that was her habit, her gaze thin and cold as a blade. “I have never been one to show mercy.”

Li Yan couldn’t help but take a step backward. His mouth opened. “Little Sparrow… Sister…”

He had fought the Crown Prince for so long, yet this was the first time Li Yan understood with such stark clarity the cruelty of political struggle. It severed blood ties, shattered bonds of affection, and cast every last shred of past warmth aside like a worn-out shoe.

In those sharp and piercing eyes, the only things cherished were power and favor. There was no trace of any feeling that belonged to the past.

“Your Grace the Prince Consort, this way…”

Just then the sound of hurried footsteps came from within the mansion. Li Shu tucked the hairpin back into her sleeve and turned to see the gatekeeper leading Cui Jinzhi toward them at a rapid pace. Apparently Li Yan’s expression had been frightening enough that the servants, terrified Li Shu might suffer some harm yet too afraid to stop a Second Imperial Prince, had run straight to fetch Cui Jinzhi for help.

Cui Jinzhi strode over and took his place at Li Shu’s side. His shoulders were broad and his frame tall, and he positioned himself so that half his body stood between her and Li Yan, shielding her.

Cui Jinzhi folded his hands in a salute, but his voice was hard and cool. “We were unaware of the Second Imperial Prince’s visit and did not come out to welcome you. We ask Your Highness to forgive the oversight.”

Li Yan naturally saw through Cui Jinzhi’s unwelcoming manner — just as Cui Jinzhi was equally unwelcoming to him. Li Yan and his retainers spent their waking and sleeping hours scheming to deal with Cui Jinzhi.

Li Yan gave a cold snort. “This Prince has not seen Pingyang in quite some time. We were merely catching up on old times. Why does the Prince Consort look as though he’s facing a mortal enemy?”

Cui Jinzhi also smiled — a hard sort of smile. “Catching up is naturally no problem, but catching up on the doorstep — forgive this subordinate, but what sort of propriety is that?”

Li Yan kept his expression cold. “This Prince merely happened to be passing by and saw Pingyang about to enter the gate. I simply exchanged a few words in passing.”

He glanced at Cui Jinzhi, clearly unwilling to get drawn into a war of words with him. Li Yan shifted his gaze to Li Shu, who stood behind Cui Jinzhi.

“Sister Pingyang, I’m leaving.”

Li Shu slowly, slightly, nodded her head and watched as the Second Imperial Prince leapt onto his horse. A crack of the whip, and he quickly vanished at the end of the road.

Parting of ways — this time, Second Brother had truly left.

She could not quite say what she felt in her heart just then. A brief silence fell over her, and she suddenly became aware that someone had taken hold of her wrist.

Only then did Li Shu realize it was Cui Jinzhi who held her wrist, and that he was carefully lifting back her sleeve.

Her pale wrist was covered in bruises.

Cui Jinzhi’s brow was deeply furrowed, and his face showed unmistakable anger. “Did the Second Imperial Prince do this?”

Li Shu nodded carelessly.

The wrist did ache — but she held no anger toward Li Yan for it.

The hurdle of substituting grain for coin would likely be one Second Brother could not overcome. Three months from now, when the Yongtong Canal was completed, it would be the moment the Ministry of Finance returned to the Crown Prince’s hands. Second Brother had labored for years in the court to build influence, had only just managed to stand on equal footing with the Crown Prince, and yet four words from her had reduced all of that to nothing.

These bruises were hers to bear.

Li Shu attempted to pull her wrist free from Cui Jinzhi’s hold, but Cui Jinzhi kept his grip firm. Before Li Shu could even open her mouth to tell him to let go, he had already taken her by the wrist and was pulling her into the mansion.

Still unsettled from the matter of the Second Imperial Prince, Li Shu’s heart was turbulent and she had no wish to quarrel with Cui Jinzhi. She tugged hard at her hand, but Cui Jinzhi’s grip was no weaker than Li Yan’s, and his hold caused her pain. She said impatiently, “Where are you taking me?”

But Cui Jinzhi appeared even more displeased, and without even turning his head he continued pulling Li Shu forward. They passed through the front courtyard, wound around the covered walkway, and entered the west wing. Li Shu’s expression grew somewhat uncomfortable. She tugged at her hand again but could not pull it free. “Why are you bringing me to your courtyard? If there’s official business to discuss, the reception hall is the place for it.”

Cui Jinzhi still said nothing.

Only after entering the west wing and leading Li Shu into the main room did Cui Jinzhi finally release her hand. He turned back to look at her and saw Li Shu with her long brows knitted tight, wearing an expression of extreme displeasure.

This room was Cui Jinzhi’s bedchamber — quite spacious, a main hall with two side rooms. Yet the furnishings were very somber in tone; even the bed curtains were a deep blue-black, and one could only wonder how he kept from feeling smothered waking up in such surroundings.

Li Shu rubbed her wrist and did not look at Cui Jinzhi, her gaze drifting idly through the air. Her voice was cold. “Why did you bring me here?”

Since Cui Jinzhi had taken up with Qing Luo, the mansion had been divided into two halves, and Li Shu no longer concerned herself with anything on Cui Jinzhi’s side. Her gaze wandered, uncertain where to rest, afraid that if she raised her eyes she might catch sight of anything in this bedchamber that belonged to Qing Luo.

Cui Jinzhi also did not answer, turning instead into the side room, where he rummaged about with soft rustling sounds, searching for something unknown.

Li Shu waited in the main hall, growing impatient. She glanced around briefly, saw no trace of anything related to any woman, and felt slightly more at ease. She followed him into the side room.

“Just what is it you want to say?”

Cui Jinzhi had gone through several boxes on the shelves before finally locating a small porcelain vial. He turned and said, “You — how is it that you have such little patience?”

He walked over and sat down on the daybed by the window, then looked up at Li Shu. “Sit.”

Outside, the spring light was soft and boundless, filtering through the thin paper of the window screen. The latticework cast faint shadows across his face, in which one could still dimly discern the elegance and vitality of his youth.

As if moved by some irresistible impulse, Li Shu obediently sat down beside him.

Cui Jinzhi glanced up at her, and a fleeting smile crossed his face — as though he was very pleased by her compliance. He opened the small porcelain vial. “Hold out your hand.”

Li Shu, not knowing what he intended, held out her hand. They were slender, fair hands, the lines of the palm faint and blurred. Cui Jinzhi drew her sleeve up slightly to expose the bruised wrist, then tipped a few drops of pale yellow medicinal oil onto it.

Only then did Li Shu understand his purpose.

Cui Jinzhi set the vial down. His broad palm settled over the bruised skin of her wrist, rubbing the medicinal oil in for her — slow and gentle.

Outside, the spring light was soft and endless, as though it might seep right through the thin paper of the window screen and spill into the room. Li Shu sat by the window and felt the pressure of his palm, and for a moment she was in a kind of daze.

Cui Jinzhi seemed to be in a good mood just then. He looked up at Li Shu, his phoenix eyes carrying a hint of a smile. “What are you thinking about?”

He waited a moment but received no response from Li Shu. He cast about for something to say. “I heard the Emperor gave the top-ranking new examination graduate an appointment as a Surveillance Censor of the eighth rank. Was it you who persuaded His Majesty to do this?”

Hearing Cui Jinzhi turn to official matters, Li Shu felt the atmosphere between them become somewhat more normal. She came slightly back to her senses and nodded. “Yes.”

Cui Jinzhi’s eyes curved with a smile, his tone taking on a slightly teasing quality. “That top-ranking graduate ought to be grateful to you. If not for you, he’d have long since been exiled to some remote outpost as a county magistrate.”

Li Shu was just about to reply, “Grateful for what? He may not last long at the Censorate anyway,” when she suddenly caught the faint scent of osmanthus wood on Cui Jinzhi.

The boundless spring light instantly receded.

The thorn named “Qing Luo” lodged in her heart — how many nights had it kept her sleepless.

Li Shu was quiet for a moment, then suddenly curved her lips in a cold smile. “Shen Xiao should indeed be grateful to me. In years past he served as my male companion, and we shared a night of intimacy. I am a person who holds sentiment in regard — of course I would give him a helping hand now.”

Cui Jinzhi’s hand stilled in its motion of rubbing the oil. He was dazed for a moment, then suddenly seized Li Shu by the forearm and leaned close. “What did you say?”

Back then, Li Shu had sought a male companion with no other intention than to provoke Cui Jinzhi once. But after spending a night with him, she had discovered the next morning that Cui Jinzhi had already left, taking Qing Luo with him. It had been nothing more than a performance she had staged for herself alone.

Afterward Li Shu had grown cold at heart, and when she encountered Cui Jinzhi again she had been too weary to bring up her own foolish episode, so Cui Jinzhi had never known of the matter.

Watching Cui Jinzhi’s twisted expression, Li Shu thought: so this is how gratifying it feels to make the other person angry.

But Cui Jinzhi had never had any affection for her from the very beginning — so why should he be so startled upon hearing this? She, Li Shu, was never the kind of woman suited for keeping house and hearth. Had he truly expected her to stand vigil as a living widow for him all her life?

How absurd.

Li Shu shook off Cui Jinzhi’s hand with careless ease and said, “What are you so surprised about? You’re allowed to seek out women, but I’m not allowed to take a male companion?”

The sharp corners of her eyes carried a chill that drove straight into Cui Jinzhi’s chest.

*

And the man with whom Li Shu had shared this “past attachment” — Shen Xiao — had received his appointment as Surveillance Censor that very afternoon, and the very next day set about fulfilling his duties with diligent conscientiousness: he submitted a memorial to the throne.

In the memorial, Shen Xiao censured Princess Pingyang in terms both sweeping and severe —

Extravagant and dissolute, insatiably greedy, and utterly heedless of the people’s suffering!