The death of Empress Dowager Chen was, in truth, an entirely unexpected occurrence.

Earlier, when the court received word of the epidemic in Tongzhou, it had swiftly dispatched Prince Duan and Han Rongchang, along with a host of imperial physicians and urgently conscripted physicians from among the common people, to rush to the area.

Han Rongchang led the investigation, arresting and interrogating all the local officials and other parties implicated in the matter. Prince Duan urgently summoned Wu Zhilin, who reported that because the local officials had deliberately concealed the outbreak and their response had been wholly inadequate, he had done everything in his power and yet, working alone, he could accomplish nothing. The epidemic had already spread to the county towns, and immediate action was imperative. Prince Duan acted on all of this at once, that very day ordering not only that the gates of Gao County be sealed, but also, as a precaution, that all of the dozen or so counties across the Tongzhou region be shut down as well. He then ordered full efforts to treat the sick, and gradually the situation improved.

According to the latest memorial Prince Duan had sent to the capital, the number of cases in each location had been declining over the past several days. At this rate, within a month at most, the city gates could be lifted.

Emperor Xiaochang was greatly pleased. After summoning his ministers to discuss the matter, he decided not to cancel the eastern progress, but to wait until the situation in Tongzhou was resolved before setting a new departure date.

For Empress Dowager Chen, accompanying the Emperor on his journey to Mount Tai to perform the sacred rites of offering—to have this achievement inscribed in stone—had always been her most cherished wish, something even Empress Dowager Jiang of the previous generation had never accomplished. This time Empress Dowager Jiang again chose not to go; Empress Dowager Chen, however, was desperately eager to participate. When she had first learned of the epidemic in Tongzhou and feared the progress would be cancelled, she had grown irritable and vexed for days. Then, on that particular day, word suddenly came that the impact was minimal and that the Emperor planned to depart the following month. Overjoyed and in fine spirits, she made a point of going out to try the specially crafted phoenix carriage that had been made for her journey—and upon returning in such high spirits, she ate several extra mouthfuls of the sweet, glutinous foods that the imperial physicians had repeatedly cautioned her to eat sparingly. It was probably because she had been out in the wind all day, and too much elation had turned to grief: that very night she developed indigestion and a fever, and fell suddenly ill.

Empress Dowager Chen was plump and had never enjoyed particularly robust health; she was often short of breath. Now that she had fallen ill, the ailment quickly brought out a host of other conditions that attacked her internal organs. Though the imperial physicians did everything in their power, they could not save her, and after lingering for some ten days, she passed away.

With the Empress Dowager’s death, it was no small matter. As filial duty demanded, the Emperor ordered the eastern progress postponed once more, and the state funeral for the Empress Dowager to proceed first.

Pu Zhu traveled with Li Xuandu on a hurried journey back from the upper commandery to the capital, and after pushing hard along the way, they finally entered the capital region. They would arrive in the capital itself the following day. That evening they lodged at a postal relay station, and they had barely been there for a short while when they heard a young woman’s voice outside calling: “Auntie! Auntie!”

Pu Zhu recognized the voice at once—it was Li Hui’er, the Princess of Ningfu Commandery.

What was she doing here?

Pu Zhu quickly called out in response and was just going out to greet her when Luo Bao came in with Li Hui’er already in tow. Li Hui’er saw her, called out “Imperial Auntie” once more, and flew toward her, her face filled with delight though her eyes were a little red. She held her emotions in check and said: “Auntie, Grand Empress Dowager sent me to meet you! Are you all right, Auntie?”

Pu Zhu understood. Seeing the eyes that gazed at her brimming with concern, her heart was moved. She smiled and nodded, took her hand, told her everything was fine, and said she need not worry.

In these years at the Penglai Palace, though Li Hui’er had lived under Empress Dowager Jiang’s protection, she had almost no one to truly talk to. The previous year she had finally befriended her fourth imperial aunt, and with Huaiwei for company as well, those had been the happiest days of her sixteen years. Now Huaiwei was gone, and just a short while ago she had heard that her fourth imperial aunt had been in danger on the road back from her ancestral home. How could she not have been frantic with worry? Learning at last that her aunt was coming back, she had sought Grand Empress Dowager Jiang’s permission and made a special trip out of the city to meet her. When she had just now seen her in person, she had nearly wept for joy.

Pu Zhu comforted her for a while, took her hand, and sat her down. She then asked about the matter she most cared about—the epidemic in Tongzhou—and upon learning it was no longer a serious concern, she let out a breath of relief.

Evening had fallen; Pu Zhu asked Li Hui’er and learned she too had not yet eaten. She had food brought and the two of them ate together, then continued talking.

Li Hui’er was overjoyed to see Pu Zhu, and when she heard her asking about events in the capital, she shared everything she knew.

Though Shangguan Yong had tried his utmost to distance himself from the situation in Tongzhou, he had still faced impeachment. In the midst of all this trouble, news broke that he had hired men to secretly assassinate the Tongzhou prefecture official, and that the official, in order to save his own life, had turned on Shangguan Yong and accused him—saying everything had been done under Shangguan Yong’s orders, including the initial concealment of the epidemic and the setting of the fire at the postal relay station to harm the Princess Consort of Prince Qin. The court immediately fell into an uproar; wave upon wave of impeachment memorials piled up before the Emperor like falling snow. Though Shangguan Yong flatly denied everything, claiming he had been falsely framed, the Emperor was nonetheless furious and ordered Shangguan Yong stripped of his office and sent to the Zhao Prison to await trial. Though the case had not yet spread to the entire Shangguan clan, Empress Shangguan had fallen ill, and the Shangguan family members were all living in a state of dread.

“Auntie, your contribution this time was truly remarkable! The memorial submitted by the royal husband Han also made particular mention of you, saying that the physician Wu did not dare to take credit, and that had it not been for your timely intervention, the epidemic would certainly have spread far more widely. And had it not been for you sending news back to the capital in time, who knows what the situation in Tongzhou would be like now! Grand Empress Dowager has also been very concerned about you, Auntie—she had people asking after you every day before this. I even heard from Lady Chen the female official that when you return, His Majesty is certain to reward you.”

“Oh, and there’s also General Shen Yang! He has already been commended and honored, promoted to Senior Second Rank General of Swift Cavalry. They say he helped you send a message back to the capital using his military token—is that true?”

Li Hui’er had chattered through all the news from the capital, and then looked up in curiosity and asked.

Pu Zhu thought of the promise she had made to Shen Yang that day, smiled slightly, and let that stand as her answer.

“Who would have thought it—General Shen is so warm-hearted and chivalrous! But then again, who wouldn’t help someone as good as you, Auntie!”

Li Hui’er sighed in admiration, and then happened to glance up and notice that Li Xuandu had appeared at some point and was standing in the doorway, seeming to listen as she spoke, though he had not come in. She quickly stopped herself and stood, calling out: “Imperial Uncle!”

Li Xuandu walked in then, nodded a greeting.

Li Hui’er glanced at the window and realized the hour was already quite late; she must have been disturbing the rest of her imperial uncle and aunt, and quickly said: “I’ll go back to my room first.”

Li Xuandu waved her off and smiled: “You and your auntie haven’t seen each other for a long time—I’m sure you still have much to talk about. You stay and keep her company tonight. Fourth Uncle is coming back to fetch a few things.”

Since the night at the horse farm in the upper commandery, Pu Zhu still felt as though it had been a dream.

Since that night, the two of them had journeyed back to the capital together, and Li Xuandu had taken excellent care of her on the road—but he had not been intimate with her again. At night they shared a bed, but he always fell asleep very quickly.

Pu Zhu had a sense that he held her in thorough contempt.

She did not blame him for thinking so.

She herself actually regretted it—regretted that in a moment of impulse, when she saw him, some wellspring of grievance she could not name had overflowed and she had acted without thinking, throwing herself at him and clinging to him regardless of everything.

Afterward, of course he held her in even more contempt.

Seeing Li Hui’er look over at her, Pu Zhu also smiled and nodded in agreement.

Li Hui’er was very pleased and quickly had someone fetch her bedding and other belongings.

Li Xuandu said nothing more; he gathered a couple of items of clothing and withdrew. He slept in another empty room at the relay station that night, and no more was said. The next day he brought Pu Zhu and Li Hui’er into the capital.

The Emperor, in mourning, issued a verbal decree commending the Princess Consort of Prince Qin for her great merit, and saying that after the period of national mourning, an official written proclamation would be issued.

The Emperor then issued another verbal decree, giving Li Xuandu an assignment. The Clan Administration had gone to the imperial mausoleum to make preparations for various matters pertaining to the Empress Dowager’s interment, but finding no capable person available there—the clan official being elderly and frail and having fallen ill these past few days—the Emperor, considering that Li Xuandu had once kept watch at the imperial mausoleum, dispatched him to go and take over the clan official’s duties.

It was nearly the fifth watch before dawn when Pu Zhu returned from the mourning hall.

Upon arriving back in the capital the previous day, the first thing she had done was change into mourning clothes and enter the palace to observe the rites of lamentation. Not only had she knelt for most of the night, but following the guidance of the ritual officials, she had participated in repeated rounds of ritual weeping—with Empress Shangguan, Princess Imperial Li Lihua, Princess Ningshou Li Qiongyao, and Crown Princess Consort Yao Hanzhen at her sides, their gazes like arrows directed at her the entire time. She had somehow endured it all and managed to slip away. The moment she came through the door, she heard that Li Xuandu had been dispatched to the imperial mausoleum on an errand and would be leaving shortly.

Perhaps because the memories that place held for her were so unpleasant, she felt a sudden unease upon hearing this news—so much so that she did not even pause to remove her mourning clothes, and hurried toward the inner chamber. Out in the corridor, she encountered Li Xuandu coming from the opposite direction. Both of them stopped.

The imperial mausoleum was several days’ journey from the capital; he had gone to handle affairs there and would naturally have to stay, with no possibility of returning quickly.

He was dressed for travel, and must be about to leave.

Pu Zhu wanted to say something, but seeing him silent, she could not think of anything to say either. She faced him for a moment, feeling the atmosphere grow slightly awkward, and at last managed to think of something she could ask: “Have you packed all the clothes you’ll need for daily changes while you’re there?”

Li Xuandu’s gaze settled on the white pearl flower she wore in her hair. He made a sound of acknowledgment.

Pu Zhu could think of nothing more to say, and after standing there in silence for another moment, felt as though she must be blocking his path, and hastily stepped to one side.

Li Xuandu then stepped forward and walked past her.

Pu Zhu watched his retreating figure, the unease in her heart growing stronger by the moment. When his silhouette was nearly about to disappear around the bend in the corridor, she could no longer hold back and said: “Take care of yourself.”

Li Xuandu’s footsteps paused. He slowly turned his face, looked at her for a moment, nodded slightly, and then left.

Pu Zhu stood alone in the corridor for a moment, listless, then went into the inner chamber, drained of all energy.

The following days passed in much the same manner—entering the palace to keep vigil, returning to the mansion to sleep, over and over again, endlessly tedious.

By the time she returned to the capital, the Empress Dowager had already been lying in state for several days. Seven days later would be the day the coffin was to be conveyed to the imperial mausoleum for burial.

On the appointed day, by the fourth watch, the entire imperial city had grown clamorous. The stretch of street leading from the palace out through the city gates was ablaze with lanterns and draped in white. The Emperor personally escorted the Empress Dowager’s coffin to the mausoleum. Below the Emperor, the consorts and concubines of the inner palace, the civil and military officials, a procession of several thousand in all—and countless more guards accompanying the imperial cortege—all set out together, making their way to the imperial mausoleum.

Pu Zhu rode in the same carriage as Li Hui’er as part of the escort accompanying the imperial cortege.

It was already late spring; the weather had grown warm, and with the midday sun beating down on the roof of the carriage, the compartment slowly heated up and became stifling. Li Hui’er’s forehead had already begun to glisten with faint perspiration. Pu Zhu lifted the curtain to let in some air, and in the distance caught sight of a column of riders galloping past. Though they were some distance away, she recognized at a glance that the man at the head was Cui Xuan.

Since the autumn hunt of the previous year, she had not seen Cui Xuan’s face. She knew that after he had distinguished himself at the autumn hunt, he had risen through the ranks quickly; now, in less than half a year, judging by the color of his uniform, he had already attained the rank of Fourth Grade Senior Cavalryman of the Feathered Forest Guard—and in this funeral procession, he had presumably been assigned a role in the escort as well.

He swept past like the wind, raising a cloud of dust along the road that drew complaints and curses from the noble ladies in the carriages ahead and behind, who scrambled to lower their curtains against the dust.

A gust of dusty air swirled into the compartment.

Pu Zhu stood momentarily dazed, then slowly lowered the curtain and turned to find Li Hui’er gazing at her.

She said carefully: “Auntie, are you all right? That man just now…”

She had been about to say she had seen him somewhere before, but hesitated and fell silent again.

Pu Zhu smiled and shook her head, saying it was nothing.

The route from the capital to the imperial mausoleum had several way-stations along the road for rest stops. The journey proceeded smoothly and without incident at first.

On the third night, midway through the journey, they stopped for the night at a rest point, and to express his grief for the Empress Dowager, the Emperor lodged in a simple tent.

In the dead of night, Pu Zhu was tossing and turning, unable to sleep, when Shen Gao sent a secret summons.

Pu Zhu knew there was no avoiding it. She rose and went out, and under cover of darkness slipped quietly to the entrance of the Emperor’s great tent, stepped inside, and saw the Emperor sitting behind a desk in his mourning attire, still holding a memorial in his hand—apparently working through the night on official business. She went forward and knelt.

The Emperor set down the memorial, raised his head, and looked at her. His eyes were bloodshot, as though he had not slept well; his face was lined with exhaustion. He fixed his gaze on her and asked: “Where did you go when you returned from Tongzhou?”

Pu Zhu knew it could not be concealed, and answered: “This subject went to the upper commandery horse farm.”

“Why did you go there?” The Emperor’s voice revealed neither pleasure nor displeasure.

“Your Majesty, Jiang Yi was a close friend of my father in his lifetime. I was attacked on the road and had fallen ill, and I did not dare return to the capital. There was no other place I could go; I thought of him. And because the road toward that area is remote, whoever was hunting me would surely not have thought I would head that way—so I went to seek his shelter. After lodging there for a while, Prince Qin came, and he brought me back the very next day.”

The Emperor said: “What is Jiang Yi’s state now?”

“When I saw him, he seemed isolated from the world, utterly worn and dejected.”

The Emperor closed his eyes and said nothing. Pu Zhu held her breath and waited. Suddenly from outside came the sound of a formal announcement: word that Prince Duan and the royal husband Han Rongchang had finished their work on the epidemic in Tongzhou and were now returning to the capital for the funeral. Traveling through the night to catch up, they had just reached this very spot; they were outside now and awaited an imperial audience.

The Emperor opened his eyes, glanced at Pu Zhu, and Shen Gao beside him understood at once, signaling her to rise and leading her behind a row of folding screens that divided the inner and outer portions of the tent. He quietly told her to wait.

Prince Duan and Han Rongchang entered. Both were in mourning, and seeing the Emperor, they knelt and first offered condolences for the Empress Dowager, each dabbing at tears. Then they reported on the affairs in Tongzhou, saying they humbly relied on His Majesty’s heavenly favor and had fortunately not disgraced their mission—the local people’s livelihoods had been fully restored.

The Emperor asked in detail about various matters, and after hearing the replies, nodded slightly, offered words of encouragement to both men, and dismissed them to rest.

After Prince Duan and Han Rongchang withdrew, there immediately came an eunuch guard slipping inside, who said a few words in a low voice to Shen Gao. Shen Gao immediately went to the Emperor’s side and whispered in his ear: “Your Majesty, under severe torture just now, that guard admitted to it—said he had been bribed by the Crown Prince, and was spying on Your Majesty’s every word and deed on his behalf. If anything seemed amiss, the Crown Prince commanded him to report at once.”

The Emperor’s rage erupted. He slammed the table violently, his eyes wide open, the muscles in his cheeks twitching uncontrollably, his teeth clenched as he said: “What an unworthy wretch! How dare he spy on Us! This is an act of the most treasonous impiety! We had originally, for his sake, still shown some restraint in handling the Shangguan matter—but now it is clear he has brought this upon himself and has no one to blame. He cannot be suffered to live!”

The Emperor’s hand trembled slightly as he pointed outward: “Go! Bring that Crown Prince to Us at once! Immediately!”

Shen Gao acknowledged the order and was about to go out and relay the command when he stopped, turned, and glanced in the direction of the folding screens, then turned back.

Pu Zhu was still behind the screens, deeply shocked.

From the Emperor’s tone, it seemed Li Chengyu had planted a spy in the imperial presence and had been found out.

Seeing how furiously enraged the Emperor was, it seemed unlikely he would let this pass.

Shen Gao was coming toward her. Pu Zhu knew she could not remain there any longer; if she did, she feared she might leave her life behind in this place. She was just about to come out when she suddenly heard another set of footsteps outside, and a voice reached her ears: “Father Emperor, please calm your anger!”

Pu Zhu looked up and through a gap in the folding screens, she saw Li Chengyu shove aside a guard who had tried to stop him and stride quickly inside, dropping to his knees before the Emperor, saying: “Father Emperor, this son has been wrongly accused! Please hear this son’s plea—someone has framed me!”

The Emperor’s fury intensified. He raised his hand and seized the inkstone from the desk, hurling it at Li Chengyu, shouting: “How did you arrive so swiftly? How did you enter without being announced? This proves there are more than one—We do not know how many spies you and the Shangguan family have planted around Us! You unworthy wretch, this is the most treasonous impiety! Today We will most certainly depose you!”

The inkstone struck Li Chengyu squarely on the forehead, gashing his head. Blood mixed with ink trickled down and dripped onto the heavy mourning clothes he wore.

Li Chengyu slowly raised his head, wiped his injured brow, and his gaze turned cold and dark.

The Emperor shouted toward the outside: “Guards! Come and seize this unworthy wretch for Us!”

From outside, a man in the attire of an imperial guard strode in. Just as Shen Gao was about to issue the command, the man’s body suddenly went rigid, and he collapsed slowly—a dagger buried deep in his chest.

The man who had killed Shen Gao was Cui Xuan.

The Emperor was horrified. Realizing what was happening—that something had gone terribly wrong outside—he turned and ran toward the back of the tent to grab his sword, crying out for guards. Before he could make a sound, Cui Xuan moved like lightning, lunging after him, seizing the Emperor from behind, one arm locked around his throat, one hand clamped over his mouth and nose.

The veins on the back of Cui Xuan’s hand bulged as he bore down with enormous force. Under that power, the Emperor, weak as a woman, struggled with all his might but could not draw a single breath; his face flushed redder and redder, his eyes began to bulge, and he looked sideways at Li Chengyu, still kneeling on the floor, his gaze filled with pleading and despair.

Li Chengyu’s face was ashen, ghastly as a demon. Meeting the Emperor’s eyes, his teeth chattered, his whole body trembling, and then he suddenly opened his mouth as though to speak.

Cui Xuan said: “The Crown Prince may wish to think carefully—it has come to this point. If the Crown Prince commands me to release him, I dare not disobey—I will release him. As for the punishment of lingering death that will be my fate tomorrow, that is merely one life. All the guilt, I will bear; I will not implicate the Crown Prince in any way!”

Li Chengyu closed his eyes, turned his face away, gritted his teeth, and made a gesture.

Without hesitation, Cui Xuan drove the dagger deep into the Emperor’s heart. The Emperor stopped breathing and fell.

Cui Xuan then strode swiftly out of the tent, issued orders commanding the soldiers to rapidly surround the quarters of all officials, arrest Prince Liu and his conspirators for the crimes of invading the imperial presence and committing regicide, and then returned inside. Seeing Li Chengyu still sitting on the floor, motionless before the Emperor’s corpse, he glanced toward the back section of the tent, walked past Li Chengyu, went around the folding screens.

This was the Emperor’s resting area, and at this moment it was entirely empty.

Cui Xuan looked around and was just about to turn and leave when his gaze suddenly held still. He walked to a corner, slowly bent down to look, and saw that the tent cloth had been slashed open with a blade—a cut of more than a foot in length.

Moments ago, someone had escaped through here!

Taking advantage of the moment when those in front were killing, Pu Zhu had used a sword hanging in the back section to slash open the tent cloth and crawl out of the great tent.

Outside, it seemed soldiers were being mustered everywhere. Not far off came the sounds of fighting, fire blazing up in the night, everything in chaos.

All the guards had been drawn to the front. Behind the Emperor’s great tent, the ground was strewn with several bodies lying in disorder. Pu Zhu ran as fast as she could and fled back to her own quarters nearby. Many of the noble ladies had been jolted awake from sleep by the sounds of battle, and were coming out one after another, staring at the distant flames, whispering and speculating, faces filled with panic.

Pu Zhu dove into her bed and lay there, her whole body trembling, cold sweat pouring from her. After a moment, she suddenly thought of Li Hui’er—afraid she would be frightened—and was steeling herself to go to her when word came from a maidservant sent by the wife of Prince Duan, saying the Commandery Princess had already been brought over and asking her to come quickly as well.

Pu Zhu went at once.

The wife of Prince Duan pulled her and Li Hui’er tightly into her arms and said quietly: “Prince Duan just sent word—something of enormous magnitude may have happened! Tonight, no matter what, neither of you are to go anywhere. Stay here with me, and we’ll see what tomorrow brings!”