She hurriedly stood up and walked toward him: “I was thinking about what he said to me.”
She didn’t know why she felt such urgency to explain to him, but Li Shubo’s face showed no emotional response. He gazed at her in the slanting light and merely gave a faint “Oh.”
Huang Zixia felt it was terribly unfair – why was she, standing inside the room, clearly illuminated by the evening light streaming in, while he, standing backlit, remained impossible for her to read no matter how hard she tried, his expression and the depths of his eyes hidden from her?
He ignored her and turned to walk outside.
Huang Zixia anxiously followed him to the Pillow Stream Pavilion, his complete silence along the way only increasing her stress.
Only after reaching the pavilion did Huang Zixia gather her courage to say, “If Your Highness needs me, you can just have Jingyu or the others call for me…”
But he didn’t answer, instead asking, “You went to see Empress Wang, how did she react?”
“The Empress will probably summon Noble Consort Guo since the timing is perfect.”
“Yes. The Emperor’s indiscriminate killing of Princess Tongchang has drawn criticism from several ministers today, but they were only met with anger and punishment. Even the Imperial Consorts in the palace are unsettled. Yet who can blame His Majesty? They can only blame Noble Consort Guo.”
At this moment, Empress Wang’s return to the palace to check on Noble Consort Guo was the unified wish of both court and palace, even discussed hopefully among the common people of the capital.
“Perhaps even Heaven is helping Empress Wang. When she needed it most, Noble Consort Guo’s greatest support, Princess Tongchang, died, causing unrest throughout the court and city,” Huang Zixia said softly.
Li Shubo shook his head, saying, “No, Empress Wang’s position today is no coincidence. The people behind her cannot be ignored.”
Huang Zixia asked, “The Wang family?”
“Yes and no.” Li Shubo turned his gaze to the crystal vase on the table, watching the small fish resting quietly at the bottom, and said slowly, “The Wang family member who operates outside the family is the true pair of hands controlling this court from behind the scenes.”
Before Huang Zixia’s eyes flashed the image of that man who had stood atop the Taiji Palace hall, watching her from afar.
The man in purple robes and jade belts, with eyes like a venomous snake.
He had pressed her hand into the fish tank, letting Agashni devour the congealed blood on her hand.
She suddenly understood and murmured, “Wang Zongshi.”
Li Shubo said nothing, only slightly tugging at the corner of his mouth before saying, “If not for Wang Zongshi’s support, how could I have reached this point today, how could I sit in my current position?”
Huang Zixia remained silent.
Ten years ago, when the previous Emperor died, Wang Zongshi served as Left Divine Strategy Guard Lieutenant. He had executed Wang Guichang, Ma Gongru, Wang Jufang, and others who attempted rebellion, personally leading the imperial guard to escort the current Emperor into the palace – making him the primary meritorious official in the current Emperor’s ascension.
However, only after ascending the throne did the Emperor realize how difficult this position was to maintain.
For nearly a century, court politics had been controlled by eunuchs, with countless officials dying at their hands, even emperors being killed by them. The previous Emperor had played dumb, concealing his capabilities for many years before finally killing Ma Yuanzhi who had helped him to power. But the current Emperor could never deceive the already vigilant Wang Zongshi, nor did he have the power to resist him.
Fortunately, three years ago when Xuzhou fell into chaos, Prince Kui Li Shubo pacified the rebellion and, with the support of six military governors and many capital offices under his command, finally built up the imperial family’s power base. With Prince Kui’s mansion and the Divine Strategy Army checking each other, these past few years had been the most peaceful for both the court and the Emperor.
Huang Zixia’s gaze fell on his calm profile, wondering in her heart: what was it like when he, at just thirteen, was sent away from the Great Ming Palace after the previous Emperor’s death? How did he spend those six years as the unremarkable Prince of Tong? And what thoughts ran through his mind when, at nineteen, he achieved fame in a single battle, his brilliance fully revealed, from then on carrying the survival of the entire Tang imperial family on his shoulders?
His life had no leisure, bearing countless responsibilities, exhausting himself in body and mind. She had wondered before what joy there was in his life, but now she realized joy was too luxurious for him – his entire life perhaps held only responsibility to the Li family’s imperial house, with no life of his own.
Because he was surnamed Li, he was Prince Kui Li Shubo.
Huang Zixia silently gazed at him, but he turned back, their eyes meeting directly, looking at each other for a long while.
She lowered her eyes, while he continued watching her and asked, “Have you considered what will happen to Yu Xuan when Noble Consort Guo’s secret is revealed?”
She bit her lower lip and said softly, “Empress Wang won’t expose this matter – what benefit would that bring her? The Empress’s smartest move would be to warn Noble Consort Guo and make her one of those who propose the Empress’s return to the palace.”
“Compared to Empress Wang, Noble Consort Guo is truly unwise, isn’t she? With only one daughter, she still dreamed of using the Emperor’s love for the Princess to overthrow Empress Wang, who bore twins and personally raised the Crown Prince. In the palace where one should be most cautious, she still wrote love poems with her hand, giving others leverage.” Li Shubo spoke without emotion, then after thinking, asked, “When did you become certain that it was Noble Consort Guo, not Princess Tongchang, who had a relationship with Yu Xuan?”
“At Zhijin Garden, when I saw that unfinished poem,” Huang Zixia raised her face, staring at the lights gradually appearing in the darkening sky outside, and said softly, “Since it wasn’t the Princess’s handwriting, the person at Zhijin Garden that day must have been Dou Kou’s killer. The Princess, who had already arranged for Dou Kou to live outside and was willing to protect her at the cost of her husband’s misunderstanding and resentment, must have been covering for… her mother, Noble Consort Guo. And her handwriting matched the poem on the letter Yu Xuan burned that day.”
As darkness fell, the room’s lamps grew brighter, casting light on them both – the bright areas becoming brighter, the shadows deeper.
“Moreover, the lines in that letter, ‘At this moment we gaze but cannot hear each other, I wish to follow the moonlight’s flow to illuminate you,’ could never have been the Princess’s words. The Princess took whatever she wanted – she could directly storm the Imperial Academy and demand Yu Xuan come to lecture. How could she write such yearning, unattainable poetry to him?”
Li Shubo smiled slightly, gazing at the motionless little red fish at the bottom of the water, seemingly asleep, and said, “The streets whisper that Noble Consort Guo frequently visited the Princess’s residence and had an affair with Prince Consort Wei Baoheng; they also whisper that Princess Tongchang forced Imperial Academy Instructor Yu Xuan to enter her residence, shaming her husband – but who truly knows the real truth of it all?”
Huang Zixia asked, “When did Your Highness notice this matter?”
“A little earlier than you.” He sat at the table, watching the small fish, his expression extremely calm. “When the Nine-Phoenix Hairpin was stolen and you were checking inside Qiyun Pavilion, I was by the railings outside and saw Noble Consort Guo below. She gave something to Yu Xuan – later, you told me it was a letter and informed me of the remaining line on it.”
She hesitated, but finally asked, “Why didn’t Your Highness tell me?”
“I believed this matter had nothing to do with you or the case.”
Huang Zixia remained silent for a long while before saying, “Regardless, Yu Xuan and I have known each other for many years, I should know about his affairs…”
“Then why need me to tell you? After all, he’s waiting for you in Yizhou – you can discuss it with him slowly yourself.”
It was the first time since they met that he had interrupted her so sharply, surprising her. She looked up at him and said, “Your Highness said you would take me there immediately after matters here are concluded.”
“So eager, aren’t you?” he asked with a cold smile.
Huang Zixia asked in bewilderment, “Are we to delay in the capital?”
“Then why not go to Shu with Yu Xuan? Why do you need me to take you?”
Huang Zixia was completely confused, not understanding his sudden change in attitude, and could only explain, “The case has been set for trial. Without Your Highness’s help, I could never overturn the verdict in Shu. We had already agreed on this – surely Your Highness isn’t going back on your word now?”
“This Prince has never gone back on his word in this life.” Li Shubo’s expression grew increasingly cold. He turned his gaze away, no longer looking at her, and said coldly, “You’re right – we originally set conditions, merely needing each other’s help. When your family’s case is cleared, we can go our separate ways, owing each other nothing.”
Huang Zixia felt there was something in his words she didn’t accept, but according to their original agreement, it was indeed so.
She looked up to see his stern, cold face and felt her heart in turmoil. She unconsciously stepped closer to him, saying, “Regardless, I only ask that Your Highness not forget your promise to take me to Shu to investigate my parents’ and family’s murder case, to clear my entire family’s name…”
Her hand unconsciously reached toward him, but as she reached across the table, she felt a chill at her wrist – the crystal cup on the table corner had been knocked over by her hand, falling toward the blue brick floor with a crisp crash, shattering into pieces. Among the splashing water, only the little red fish was left, flopping helplessly on the ground.
Huang Zixia froze for a moment, then immediately crouched down, cupping the fish in her palms.
This was the small fish Li Shubo had always kept by his side, the only bright color in his dry, busy, monotonous life, something he could glance at in his rare moments of leisure.
So when Huang Zixia held it in her palms, a flash of regret passed through her heart.
It couldn’t be allowed to die – she couldn’t destroy with her own hands Li Shubo’s only spot of brightness.
The brush washer inside had been used to clean ink brushes, and the tea in the pot was still warm – neither suitable for the fish. She turned and ran with the little red fish toward the outside steps – the Pillow Stream Pavilion was built right by the water’s edge, surrounded by lotus flowers, with steps leading directly to the water.
Holding the small fish, she scooped up a handful of water, watching it flip its tail and turn right side up, and finally breathed a sigh of relief as she looked up at Li Shubo.
Li Shubo stood in the water pavilion, his extremely deep eyes gazing at her, seeing only her continuing to hold the little fish, looking at him without speaking.
He paused for a moment, finally taking a bronze wine vessel from the antique shelf and walking to her side.
However, when she raised her hands to place the little red fish into the bronze vessel, the fish suddenly leaped in panic from her palms, plunging straight into the water.
A tiny ripple spread out, and the small fish dove into the water, never to be seen again.
She crouched by the water in shock, seeing Li Shubo’s expression change dramatically beside her.
The pond was so vast and full of lotus flowers, while the fish was only as long as a finger joint. Even if they uprooted every lotus in the pond and drained all the water, they could never find such a tiny fish again.
Huang Zixia saw Li Shubo’s brows furrow deeply.
A small red fish that never grew, always staying in his crystal cup. At their first meeting, he had said this fish was connected to a secret that even the Emperor explicitly could not inquire about. And now, this fish had slipped away from her hands.
Huang Zixia stood by the lotus pond, the water completely spilling onto the hem of her clothes. She looked up at Li Shubo in confusion, but he wouldn’t look at her or say a word. After a long while, he turned and went inside.
Leaving only Huang Zixia standing alone on the steps by the water, where the lotus breeze stirred gently and the evening light blazed brilliantly, making everything before her eyes blur until she could barely see this world anymore.