The matter of the double-agent alliance could be set aside for later, but vexing thoughts surged up once more.

That day she had instructed Bai Bi’s people to continue searching for news of that family in Wugong County. Three months had passed in the blink of an eye, yet still no new information had arrived. Today was her wedding day, and the one who should have been by her side to help dress and escort her as a bride should have been A’mu.

The matter of A’mu could continue to wait — it was unlikely she would be in immediate danger so soon. But Cui Xuan — what had become of him after last night, whether he lived or died, Pu Zhu could not set her mind at ease, nor could she press Li Xuandu further about it.

She had always been fond of sleeping in, the sort of person who could fall asleep the moment her head touched the pillow so long as nothing troubled her mind. But tonight, first came sorrow, then worry, and she truly could not sleep. She lay on the inner side of the bed, tossing and turning, rolling back and forth perhaps seven or eight times, when suddenly she heard an impatient voice close to her ear: “If you cannot sleep, go outside. The clear breeze and bright moon are more than enough to ease your mind.”

Pu Zhu’s eyes flew open. She saw him turn his face on the pillow and open his eyes to look at her, his expression thoroughly displeased. Knowing it must have been her own restless movements that had disturbed his sleep, she quickly said: “I won’t go out. I’ll sleep right now.” She closed her eyes as she spoke.

Li Xuandu looked at the face beside him on the pillow, which had immediately shut its eyes and assumed a well-behaved sleeping expression, and found himself at a loss for words.

At the start of the year, he had first encountered her at a roadside inn in He Xi. How could he have known then that this crafty little schemer — who had been sneaking out in the dead of night to meet some young lover — would end up sharing his bed on this very night, becoming the one who lay beside his pillow?

Pu Youzhi’s granddaughter was indeed a beauty. Tonight, when he stepped forward to lift the veil from her face, the moment his eyes met hers, the magnificently adorned jade countenance beneath the veil had left him stunned for the briefest of instants.

But that was all. The feeling was gone as soon as it came.

She was born of a distinguished family — her grandfather a loyal minister, her father a martyr, herself a beautiful and delicate young woman. As for her character… in others’ eyes, her character was naturally that of a gentle and virtuous woman, beyond reproach.

In truth, never mind others — even he himself, had he not happened to learn the truth by chance, would never have believed that a young woman who appeared to possess such pure and fine beauty on the outside could, beneath that surface, be such a stark and vivid contrast to her own appearance.

A flower — take the peonies of An’guo Temple, for instance — so long as it blooms with enough fragrance and beauty, it will attract countless frenzied bees and wild butterflies falling over one another to reach it. People are much the same. And yet, a person is not, after all, a flower.

No matter how fine the outward appearance, when he thought of her consistent conduct and character, it held not the slightest appeal for him.

The more enticing her outward appearance, the more repellent the true face beneath it.

He could not imagine spending the rest of his days bound to such a woman.

The Emperor had granted in marriage this celebrated daughter of the Pu family — who had originally been put forward as a candidate for Crown Princess — to him. In the eyes of others, this was naturally another powerful testament to the Emperor’s boundless imperial favor and his fraternal affection for his younger brother.

Yet a sharp intuition, honed over years of unusual experiences, told him that things might not be as straightforward as they appeared on the surface.

He had no wish to dwell on it further, so he turned his head, closed his eyes, and let his mind drift — only to have the scene of last night’s assassination attempt rise before him.

If the assassination truly had nothing to do with her, then either the young man from He Xi, unwilling to be cast aside by her, had taken violent revenge upon him — or that young man had been instigated by someone else to act against him.

Whichever the case, those who wanted him dead had never truly disappeared, and he did not particularly care if one or two more were added to their number. Only this young man had struck with exceptional ruthlessness — his hand was injured quite severely. Even now the wound throbbed with a dull ache, and he was unaccustomed to someone suddenly sharing his bed — to think that she had climbed into bed just now as though nothing had happened, lying down right beside him without hesitation. It had genuinely surprised him. After the way this wedding night had concluded, he had assumed she would be frightened off, too afraid to draw near, that she might find some other place to spend the night in the outer chamber. After all, the weather was still warm — it was not as though she had nowhere else to sleep besides the bed.

Li Xuandu suppressed the urge to drive her off the bed, turned over to face away from her, and silently recited the sutra for stilling the heart that he had long since memorized backwards and forwards, until at last he slowly regained his calm.

That night, the new husband beside her pillow breathed evenly and seemed to sleep well enough. Pu Zhu, however, lay wide awake.

This was the worst bout of sleeplessness she had suffered throughout the entire months of waiting for the wedding.

That Cui Xuan would attempt to assassinate Li Xuandu was naturally for her sake.

She was consumed with worry over whether he had lived or died, yet she could not press Li Xuandu further about it. She drifted in and out of fitful sleep, and before the fifth watch had even come, she was fully awake, preparing herself for the morning court visits.

There would be much to do today. First, to pay respects to the Emperor and Empress, then, in order of rank, first to Penglai Palace, then back again to Jishang Palace.

She sat up. Having slept poorly, she was still somewhat dazed, rubbing her eyes, when she turned her head and saw Li Xuandu stepping down from the bed, reaching with one hand for his robe hanging on the clothes rack. She was instantly wide awake. She threw back the covers, scrambled off the bed in a flash, rushed to take the robe, and said: “Your hand is inconvenient — let me help you dress…”

Li Xuandu glanced at her, took the robe she offered, but did not put it on. He set it casually to one side, turned away, and opened the door.

Luo Bao had long been standing in attendance below the threshold steps outside. Seeing him appear, he immediately ascended the steps and ordered people to bring water inside to assist with washing and grooming.

Pu Zhu had made an awkward gesture so early in the morning. She watched Luo Bao walk over, and as he passed before her, he paused, lowered his eyes, called out “Your Highness the Princess Consort,” gave a bow, and then moved on, carefully and attentively helping Li Xuandu change his clothes.

Pu Zhu felt vexed.

As the newly arrived Princess Consort, to have lost face to such a degree last night — in front of Li Xuandu it was one thing, a reluctant acceptance given the inescapable circumstances, for the fact of the assassination had been too grave a matter, no small thing — but to have had all of it witnessed by this attendant was something else entirely. Though she could not detect any obvious contempt on his face this morning, she still felt somewhat uncomfortable inside.

If an opportunity ever arose in future, she would have to find a way to get rid of this Luo Bao. She had no wish to look at this person swaying back and forth before her every single day, reminding her of the humiliation of her wedding night — it was far too vexing.

Nanny Huang led the maidservants inside to attend to them as well. Pu Zhu and Li Xuandu each took a corner of the room — she to the west, he to the east — washing their faces, combing their hair, and dressing. Pu Zhu put on her ceremonial court robe and jewelry, dressed fully, then ate a light early meal.

At mid-hour of the fifth watch, Luo Bao went to summon Imperial Physician Ding to come and change the dressing on his wounded hand. Taking advantage of this interval, Pu Zhu dismissed all the serving maids and women who stood waiting in the bedchamber, leaving only herself and Li Xuandu. She walked over and said: “Your Highness, I have only just arrived, and though I am doing my best to learn, I am still far from understanding the many protocols of the palace as well as Your Highness does…”

Li Xuandu was seated before the east window, his gaze passing through the glass and out toward the distant eastern horizon where a faint whitening had just begun to appear. At her words, he turned his head slightly, gave her a sidelong glance, and arched one brow.

He said nothing, but Pu Zhu knew he was asking what she actually meant to say.

She said: “Your Highness, I have an impertinent request. I know Your Highness holds considerable distaste for me. In private, I will accept whatever Your Highness sees fit. But in front of others — could Your Highness perhaps bear a little discomfort and put on a slight show?”

She watched his expression and quickly added: “I am not asking Your Highness to display any great affection toward me before others — only that once outside the bedchamber, Your Highness might offer a little concealment. After all, you and I were matched by imperial decree, and we are newly wedded. If Your Highness shows me no regard it matters not to me personally, but it would not do if outsiders mistook Your Highness’s manner as dissatisfaction with the imperial match, causing trouble through my fault.”

In light of the lesson of last night, she was reminding him, albeit in the most tactful terms, that once outside, it was not like the bedchamber — the people out there were different from Luo Bao, and he ought to think of preserving his own dignity.

In truth this was not merely for her own sake, but for both of them.

She finished speaking and held her breath, watching him.

Li Xuandu turned his face away in a leisurely manner, continued gazing at the distant horizon beyond the window, and reclining against the backrest behind him, said lazily: “Such things — you think to consider them, yet I would not know?”

Pu Zhu was once again silenced.

No matter. If he already knew to keep up appearances in front of others, that was more than enough.

At this moment Luo Bao came hurrying to the threshold of the bedchamber and announced that the physician had arrived and was waiting in the outer hall.

Li Xuandu rose and said: “I will come out once I have had this attended to. You may go ahead to the carriage and wait for me.”

Pu Zhu watched his retreating figure depart, and following his instruction, went out first.

At this hour, though a glimmer of light was just beginning to show on the distant eastern horizon, the sky overhead was still dark and obscure.

Last night had been the great wedding, and along the pathway leading from the Prince’s Mansion to its main gate, palace lanterns had been set up every few yards to serve as courtyard lights. Now the palace lanterns were still alight, their red glow hazy and indistinct, like a winding red dragon stretching forward into the distance.

Li Jin, the estate manager of the Prince’s Mansion, was entirely unaware of what had happened inside, and was still very respectful toward her as the Princess Consort. He bowed and led the way.

Pu Zhu walked forward under the escort of a retinue of maidservants and serving women behind her. The whole way was silent — the only sounds were footsteps and the soft rustling of the maidservants’ skirts swishing as they walked. She passed through courtyard after courtyard and hall after hall until she reached the gate, where she saw a carriage waiting outside the main entrance. Just as she was about to board, she suddenly caught sight of Ye Xiao leading the mansion’s guards standing nearby.

Pu Zhu’s heart stirred, and she immediately went over and beckoned him forward.

Ye Xiao came over, and Pu Zhu drew him aside to a place where there was no one nearby, and asked him about the circumstances of Li Xuandu’s assassination attempt the previous night. She said: “To think he was injured so severely! Every time I think of it I am overcome with dread. His Highness’s life is of supreme importance — if anything were to happen to him, what would become of us?”

Ye Xiao had been tormented by guilt and self-reproach these past two days over his dereliction of duty. Seeing the Princess Consort’s anger, he said with shame: “Your Highness the Princess Consort is quite right to rebuke me. From now on I will be doubly vigilant, and will never again give those villainous scoundrels any opportunity to act. If there is another failure, I deserve death!”

Pu Zhu gave a small nod, her tone softened somewhat, and she asked about the assassin.

Ye Xiao said: “It is my failure. By the time I arrived, His Highness had already wounded the assassin in return. The assassin made use of the terrain to escape. I do not know who it was. His Highness ordered that no pursuit be made.”

Prince Qin must have had his reasons for issuing such an order. Yet even as Ye Xiao spoke of it, there was still a note of unwillingness in his voice.

Pu Zhu, however, finally let out a long breath of relief.

Cui Xuan had been wounded, but had escaped.

Good. Since he had escaped, his life was presumably unharmed.

The worry that had kept her heart occupied all night was, for the moment at least, resolved. Once a few days had passed and things had settled down on this end, she would have to find Cui Xuan, lest something similar happen again.

She boarded the carriage and waited a moment. A commotion of sounds reached her from outside.

Li Xuandu had arrived. He took a horse from an attendant and mounted. At a single command from Ye Xiao, the procession of carriages and horses set off, leaving the Prince’s Mansion and heading toward the Imperial Palace. By the time dawn broke they had arrived at the palace gates. The newly wedded Prince Qin and his consort entered the palace and stood outside the imperial hall to await the Emperor and Empress’s audience, where they would express gratitude for the imperial grace.

Every action that morning had been timed to the minute. At the seventh hour, Song Changsheng came out, smiling and offering congratulations on the happy marriage to both of them, then led them into the hall.

Pu Zhu followed Li Xuandu as they walked along the great hall corridor lined with palace guards on both sides, and entered the imperial throne hall.

The court ceremonial officers each announced the Emperor and Empress in turn. Shortly after, the ceremonial procession with its fan screens and attendants arrived, and the Emperor appeared. He entered and took his seat on the south-facing imperial throne. Then came the Empress, who sat facing west.

Li Xuandu, accompanied by his newly wedded Princess Consort of Qin, bowed in salute to the Emperor and Empress respectively and offered thanks for the imperial grace.

After accepting their obeisance, the Emperor spoke in an easy, familiar manner, smiling: “Now that Fourth Brother’s wedding is accomplished, a long-standing concern of mine is finally settled. From this day forward, you two must remember — honor and cherish one another, and grow old together in harmony.”

Li Xuandu responded respectfully: “Your subject-brother takes this to heart, and will not fail Your Majesty’s most devoted and generous affection.”

Pu Zhu also offered her respectful thanks, her expression betraying nothing, though the feeling within her heart was exceedingly strange.

This Emperor seated above, with his warm smile and earnest words — had she not experienced that day herself, who could have imagined, from this scene alone, what lay concealed beneath all this imperial grace and generosity: such deep suspicion and such ruthless murderous intent.

Seen from the opposite angle, Li Xuandu was much the same. Beneath his outward appearance of spiritual detachment and devotion to Daoist philosophy, was there truly no audacious conspiracy being brewed, no innate rebellious nature?

Between these imperial brothers, each concealing himself to such a degree, each so thoroughly estranged at heart — when one traced it to its root, it was all for the sake of that one blade, the supreme and peerless sword of power that belonged to whoever ruled all under heaven.

Power truly was a fine thing.

Who did not desire it? She desired it too.

Empress Shangguan was equally all smiles, and after saying a few words of congratulation to the newly married couple, added: “This morning, word came from the Grand Empress Dowager’s side, saying you two should first go pay your respects close by to the Empress Dowager, to spare you from traveling back and forth between the two palaces and adding unnecessary distance to your journey.”

Li Xuandu accepted the command.

The Empress looked toward Pu Zhu, fixed her with a steady gaze, then smiled and nodded: “There is nothing more here — you may go to Jishang Palace now, so as not to keep the Empress Dowager waiting too long.”

Pu Zhu respectfully escorted the Emperor and Empress with Li Xuandu. It was only after Empress Shangguan’s figure had disappeared from view that she realized the steady gaze the Empress had fixed upon her still sent a chill down her back when she thought of it.

In this lifetime, she had utterly offended Empress Shangguan — there was no undoing that.

She followed Li Xuandu in silence, and they proceeded to Jishang Palace, where she discovered that besides Empress Dowager Chen, Princess Imperial Li Lihua and Princess Ningshou were also present.

The husband and wife bowed in obeisance to the Empress Dowager and offered their thanks.

In Pu Zhu’s estimation, Empress Dowager Chen’s round, plump face was wreathed in smiles, and she appeared warm and kind toward her as well — yet the gaze she directed at her was entirely different from before: cold and distant, impossible to conceal.

She suspected it must be connected to the Crown Prince. After all, Li Chengyu was a grandchild deeply beloved by Empress Dowager Chen.

The Princess Imperial standing nearby smiled and teased her and Li Xuandu, saying that since Fourth Brother’s marriage, he looked even more spirited than before — this was entirely the Princess Consort’s doing, a meritorious contribution without equal. She also said the two of them were heaven-made for one another, and the more one looked at them the more they resembled a married couple. And she urged Pu Zhu to visit and call on her often in the future.

This socially adroit Princess Imperial was not nearly as warm and genuine as she appeared on the surface. She too was a person in pursuit of power.

As for Princess Ningshou, she only called Li Xuandu “Imperial Uncle,” and as for Pu Zhu — she simply ignored her entirely.

Coming out of Jishang Palace, Pu Zhu followed Li Xuandu out of the palace, heading for Penglai Palace. As they walked along the palace corridor, she reflected on the experiences of the morning.

The Emperor harbored treacherous intentions, and she was no more than a piece on his game board.

The Empress and Empress Dowager Chen both held her in disfavor.

The Princess Imperial and Princess Ningshou — one was a smiling tiger, the other did not even bother to pretend.

Pu Zhu felt a deep hostility pressing in on her from all four directions.

Finding an ally to stand against those outside — this point had become ever more urgent.

She could not help but look toward Li Xuandu.

He walked beside her, his pace steady, his gaze directed straight ahead.

Pu Zhu followed his gaze and looked forward, and stopped short for just a moment.

They were almost at the palace gate now, and there was someone coming from ahead — it was the Commander of the Southern Bureau, Shen Yang.

Shen Yang had already seen Li Xuandu. His face wore a smile as he walked quickly toward them, bowing to Li Xuandu as he said: “I offer Your Highness my most sincere congratulations on your happy marriage! Since Your Highness returned to the capital, I have not for a single moment ceased to think of making your acquaintance. Yet Your Highness is devoted body and soul to Daoist cultivation, and I feared I would disturb your quiet practice, and moreover had no one to introduce me — so I have hesitated until now, not daring to take action. It would be a great pity to thus let the chance slip away. Today, meeting by fortunate coincidence, the opportunity is rare. I presume to extend an invitation. I have heard that when Your Highness was young, you excelled at hunting — this is a passion I share. Before long His Majesty will lead his subjects on the autumn hunt. I humbly hope Your Highness will offer me some guidance at that time — it would be my greatest honor!”

Li Xuandu returned the bow: “General Shen speaks too highly of me — I truly dare not accept such praise. If I happen to still be in the capital at that time, I shall gladly accompany you.”

Shen Yang’s two eyes now turned toward Pu Zhu. They rested on her face for a moment, then he lowered his gaze and bowed respectfully: “I am Shen Yang, Commander of the Southern Bureau. I pay my respects to Your Highness the Princess Consort.”

Of all the things Pu Zhu had been most anxious about on today’s visit to the palace, it was the possibility of running into Crown Prince Li Chengyu. Were all three of them in the same place at the same time, the awkwardness would be immense. Fortunately she had not seen him appear, and had only just allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief — only to find herself encountering Shen Yang instead.

For this ambitious schemer, she harbored deep hatred and resentment, and the shadow he cast over her heart was immense.

In her past life, the reason she had died was because of him. When she had seen him walking in their direction just now, she had instinctively and quietly shifted to position herself behind Li Xuandu, edging back a few steps. Then suddenly it dawned on her — why should she be afraid?

She was no longer the fallen Empress of her past life, humiliated and left without recourse. So long as she could quickly reach an understanding with Li Xuandu, in this lifetime, if this ambitious schemer thought to humiliate her again, it would not be so easy.

Her expression cool and indifferent, she lifted her delicate chin slightly and gave a small nod — enough to count as returning the courtesy.

Li Xuandu withdrew his gaze from her face and turned it toward Shen Yang across from them. He spoke: “The Princess Consort and I are going to Penglai Palace to pay our respects to the Grand Empress Dowager. I must excuse myself. We shall meet again another day.”

Shen Yang immediately stepped aside to the edge of the palace corridor and said respectfully: “I respectfully see off Your Highness the Prince and Her Highness the Princess Consort.”

Li Xuandu led Pu Zhu forward. They went out through the palace gate. He saw her to the carriage beside it, and as she gathered her skirts and stepped onto the wooden step that an attendant had placed in position to board, he unexpectedly came forward himself, extending his uninjured hand, and gave her a light steadying touch — helping her up into the carriage.

Pu Zhu was taken by surprise.

Although she had asked him, before leaving this morning, to keep up appearances in front of others, she had truly not expected him to be so considerate.

She looked down at him. His expression was calm, as though this were the most natural thing in the world.

She suppressed the astonishment within her, lightly rested her hand on his arm, and got into the carriage, ducking into the compartment.

Li Xuandu mounted his horse, glanced back at Shen Yang, who still stood at the side of the palace corridor as if watching them off, then turned his horse’s head and set off toward Penglai Palace.