Half a month later. The year-end palace banquet.

One could not take the palace banquet lightly. Li Shu rose before dawn, washed and dressed, and put on her elaborate, layered court robes, her hair done up with glittering pins and ornaments.

The carriage made its way all the way inside the palace walls, and when she stepped out, the sky had only just begun to show the faintest glimmer of dawn, painting all things with a thin wash of rose-tinged light.

Li Shu descended from the carriage and stood still beside it for a moment, lifting her face to look at the horizon. She said to Hong Luo at her side, “The sun is sure to come out today — it will be fine weather.”

Hong Luo agreed: “How rare it is — we have had snow falling all winter, and now at last there is a glimpse of the sun. The weather will soon be warming, I should think.”

As the two of them spoke, a number of other carriages arrived in succession. The women who stepped out of them were all wives of noble families from one great house or another. Upon seeing Li Shu they nodded their greetings and then, led by palace attendants, made their way toward the Empress’s palace chambers.

Princess Anle’s carriage was among them, with Yang Fang riding on horseback alongside. Their carriage and horses had stopped not far from Li Shu, and Li Shu had a clear view of everything — when Anle stepped down from the carriage, Yang Fang did not reach out to help her. He simply stood with his hands clasped behind his back, and after Anle had descended, he exchanged a few words with her, his expression neither warm nor cool, before heading off in the direction of Taihe Hall to attend the court banquet.

As he passed Li Shu, Yang Fang gave her a small nod of acknowledgement.

Li Shu responded with a faint smile, then watched him walk away. When she turned back, she found that Anle’s gaze had been following Yang Fang’s retreating figure the whole time.

The moment she noticed Li Shu looking, Anle quickly withdrew her gaze, as though she did not wish anyone to see her in such a lowly, dejected state. But the desolation on her face was something she could not conceal, no matter how she tried.

Li Shu took this in, was quiet for a moment — not knowing what she was thinking — and then suddenly walked toward Anle.

When Anle saw Li Shu approaching, she managed a strained smile. The two of them walked together in the direction of the Empress’s palace chambers.

“By the look of you, your illness has finally passed?” Anle asked.

Li Shu’s complexion was considerably ruddier than before, and her figure had filled out somewhat — still not quite the plump, soft-featured beauty, but far better than the angular, gaunt look from before.

Li Shu smiled. “Yes — I have been ill all winter, so it was certainly time.”

This period had seen Shen Xiao at her mansion. He was, in name, nothing more than a lover with no formal standing — yet he had carried himself with all the assurance of the proper mistress of the household, pushing every kind of tonic and remedy into her hands day after day. There were even nights when he would complain a little, saying she was too thin and bony to hold comfortably.

Li Shu had thought that if she were not afraid of him leaving the mansion and being caught in the Crown Prince’s net — likely sending him to his death — she really would have been tempted to throw him out.

Since there was nothing for it, she had taken to venting her frustrations by leaving a few more bite marks on his shoulder.

Shen Xiao, perfectly composed, had said he would file an official complaint — denouncing a certain princess for the excessive use of private torture.

Li Shu had collapsed against him, laughing.

A thought of Shen Xiao was like a thread being tugged — it could unravel endlessly and run very far.

Li Shu suddenly stopped walking. She turned her head slightly and let her gaze travel past the palace walls in the direction of her own mansion.

The palace was full of people and watching eyes, and she had absolutely no way to bring Shen Xiao before the Emperor.

Yet all success or failure — even matters of life and death — would find their resolution today.

Li Shu drew her gaze back and followed Anle all the way to the Empress’s palace chambers.

They had not arrived especially early; the great hall was already filled with the wives of the noble families, their jewelled hairpins glittering, gathered around the Empress and chatting about everyday household matters.

When the two of them arrived, the Empress quickly beckoned to Anle from where she rested against the arhat couch. Anle drew close and leaned warmly against her side. The Empress asked with concern, “The morning is cold — were you nearly tempted to sleep in again?”

Anle let out a soft, petulant sound, her charming manner drawing laughter from all around. Only then did the Empress glance toward Li Shu, who still stood farther back, and give a mild nod. “Pingyang has come too — sit down quickly.”

Li Shu found a round stool lower down and sat.

With the Crown Prince governing in the Emperor’s stead, her standing had fallen sharply. The seat arranged for her at today’s banquet was near the very end of the hall, on a par with the other lesser-favoured princesses of lower birth. There were some curious onlookers whose gazes followed Li Shu, watching to see if any hint of displeasure might cross her face — fodder for later gossip. But Li Shu’s face gave almost nothing away, as calm and unruffled as still water. Most of those probing looks could only withdraw, unsatisfied.

Now that they were sitting closer together, the Empress noticed that Anle had grown notably thinner than before — the formerly round, endearing cheeks had hollowed slightly. The Empress reached out with a pang of tenderness and cupped Anle’s face in her hand. “Have you had a touch of wind-cold these past few days?”

Anle took hold of the Empress’s arm and shook her head. Though her expression clearly carried some grievance, she said nothing.

The Empress pressed her a few more times, but Anle continued to say nothing. The Empress understood that even if Anle did have something on her mind, she would not say it in front of so many people, and so she did not pursue it further.

From her seat lower in the hall, Li Shu glanced up at Anle, and connecting it to Yang Fang’s manner and movements when they had stepped down from the carriage, thought to herself that Anle’s affliction was very probably a matter of the heart.

The man who had always chased after her, always adored her — who had suddenly turned cold and distant toward her. It is only at such a moment that a person can truly discover where their own heart lies. Pity that an epiphany realised too late is, more often than not, too late indeed.

What was more, Anle did not even have the opportunity for an epiphany. She simply could not work out why she and Yang Fang were growing further and further apart. She wished to mend things, but found every road blocked. She could only watch helplessly as Yang Fang drifted farther and farther away — and all the while remained entirely unaware that the very hand pushing him away was her own.

Ignorance is a blessing — because one does not know one’s own mistakes. Ignorance is also a curse — because one has, with one’s own hands, brought all of this upon oneself.

Everyone had arrived relatively early, yet the banquet would not begin until noon; the whole of the morning was essentially spent in idle conversation. The hall was crowded with people, and the combined fragrance of the ladies’ perfumes had grown thick and heavy. To keep the warmth in, every door and window was shut fast, leaving the air stale and unventilated.

Li Shu had sat for only a short while before she began to feel stifled. She had never cared for heavy fragrances, and this was more than she could endure. She was quietly rubbing her temples, feeling a slight dizziness coming on, and was thinking of what excuse she might use to slip outside for some air — when she glanced up and saw that the Empress above her had also gone somewhat pale, her slender fingers pressed to her own temples, a look of weariness on her face.

No one else had noticed yet. But the Crown Princess was quick to read faces — the moment she saw the Empress in that state, she stepped forward and took hold of her arm, saying there was something in the inner palace requiring attention, and used this as a pretext to support the Empress and guide her away.

Anle, guileless, genuinely believed the Empress had pressing business to attend to and did not follow. But Li Shu watched the Empress’s retreating figure for a moment, then turned around and walked, with a smile, toward Anle.

She stepped forward and took Anle’s arm. “It is rather stuffy in the hall. Let us go out and take some fresh air.”

Anle was surrounded by a cluster of fawning ladies of noble families, and feeling rather dispirited on account of Yang Fang, she had no desire at all to chat with these women. Her heart was restless, and the moment Li Shu came to pull her away, she went along without resistance.

The two of them stepped outside the hall. It was probably around the si hour — the sun of a winter’s day hung suspended halfway up the sky, sending out not the least trace of warmth. The clouds above were dark and heavy, as if trying to swallow the sun whole.

The moment they were out of the hall, the air turned sharp and clear. Li Shu breathed it in several times, exhaled the stale air that had accumulated in her lungs while indoors, then looked to one side — and found Anle standing there with her head slightly bowed, the shadow of worry settled deep in her eyes.

Her thoughts were simply too transparent; joy and sorrow too plainly written on her face. She was too guileless, not at all like someone who had grown up inside the deep palace.

If there had been any other path, Li Shu would not have wished to make use of Anle. But she had no choice.

She looked at Anle and came straight to the point: “What is the matter between you and Prince Consort Yang?”

Anle’s head snapped up. She had evidently not expected that what was weighing on her heart would be stated so plainly and directly by Li Shu.

Li Shu gave a faint smile. “When you stepped down from the carriage earlier, I could see that things between you two were a little distant.”

She added, “I have experienced these things myself. There is nothing I cannot read.”

The small flicker of wariness that had risen in Anle subsided. She thought that Li Shu had, after all, been through a separation of her own, and understood matters of the heart far better than she did. Besides, Li Shu was sharp.

Anle was silent for a moment, then nodded. “I cannot understand it either. He used to treat me very well — why has he suddenly become so…”

Her words trailed off.

“Ah…”

Li Shu heard this, and her expression betrayed not a flicker of surprise. Her tone was entirely even. “That is only to be expected. Anyone who has been demoted in rank would naturally be in no mood for cheerfulness.”

“Demoted?”

Anle was genuinely startled. “When was he demoted?”

Li Shu frowned. “You do not know? Prince Consort Yang was transferred out of the Ministry of Rites into the Court of the Imperial Clan not long ago.”

This was not any great secret. There was no reason for Anle not to know.

Anle, however, looked even more astonished than before. “Of course I know of this — but… but this is a promotion, is it not?”

From senior third rank to full third rank — how could that be considered a demotion?

Li Shu looked at Anle with a slight expression of surprise — apparently not having anticipated that her understanding of court affairs was this shallow. She explained: “Though the Ministry of Rites is only senior third rank, it is at least a post where real work is done and real authority is held. The Court of the Imperial Clan, however, is an entirely ceremonial post. No matter how high its rank may appear, it amounts to nothing more than an honorary sinecure. Once a man enters the Court of the Imperial Clan, he is effectively removed from the active world of court — it is as good as being eliminated.”

Anle was struck momentarily dumb, as though unable to absorb this news.

She had believed all this time that the Crown Prince had given Yang Fang a promotion.

Yet it had been a promotion in name only and a demotion in truth.

But why had Yang Fang suffered this injustice without saying a word to her about it? If he had told her, at the very least she might have gone to make a scene with the Crown Prince on his behalf.

“Why?” Anle asked, a little dazedly. Seeing that Li Shu was about to explain, she quickly raised her hand to stop her.

She was not entirely without sense — she could work out the gist of it herself.

When the Crown Prince had been confined to the Eastern Palace by Imperial decree, all but stripped of power, Yang Fang had done nothing but look on from the sidelines without lifting a finger to help. When days were good and the Eastern Palace was flush with favour, it had no shortage of people eager to add flowers to its embroidery; their absence was no great matter. But the moment he fell from power, what was needed was someone willing to bring coal in the bitter cold — and Yang Fang had still chosen to keep out of it and protect himself.

The Crown Prince was not magnanimous by nature. Surely he had taken note of Yang Fang. If not for the fact that he was the Prince Consort, what had been done would have been far harsher than a promotion-in-name-only.

Once she had seen through the political machinations underlying it all, Anle felt a momentary, almost unbearable sense of unreality. She had assumed all this while that the Crown Prince would surely be somewhat more lenient with Yang Fang, on her account.

She could not stand by — she had to go and confront the Crown Prince about this!

As though she could see exactly what Anle was thinking, Li Shu opened her mouth and stopped her before she could act on the thought. “There is no need for you to go and argue the matter with the Crown Prince over this. The Crown Prince is governing in the Emperor’s stead and is occupied with a great many affairs — he likely has no time to pay attention to you.”

“Besides… the feeling between you and your Prince Consort has always been rather tepid, hasn’t it? Why should you trouble yourself over whether he holds real authority or not?”

Li Shu’s voice was cool. “If you feel that he lacks real power and is therefore not worthy of you, then all the more reason not to exhaust yourself over this.”

As she spoke, she smiled faintly — carrying a trace of calculated cruelty. “I have heard that the Empress intends to find you a new Prince Consort. One of considerably higher rank and greater influence.”