Huang Zixia nodded, and just as she was about to say something to Uncle Ayuan, the carriage driver, a sudden commotion erupted from the intersection ahead. Uncle Ayuan slowly brought the carriage to a stop, remaining motionless at the intersection for quite some time.

Huang Zixia quickly opened the small window to ask Uncle Ayuan: “Uncle Yuan, what’s wrong?”

“Princess Tongchang’s carriage is blocking the intersection,” he replied.

Huang Zixia quickly jumped down from the carriage to investigate.

This was near Pingkang Ward, where Chang’an’s streets were normally wide, but water channel maintenance on both sides and old locust trees leaning into the street had taken up most of the road.

The passage was already difficult, yet two entertainment houses from Pingkang Ward had set up small stages at the intersection, performing against each other. Flutes and pipes rang out as sleeves whirled in dance, drawing countless onlookers who completely blocked the road. Amidst this chaos, Princess Tongchang’s gold-trimmed and jade-inlaid carriage sat stuck in the middle, unable to move an inch.

Huang Zixia saw Chuizhu, Luopei, Zhui Yu, and Qingbi all following beside the carriage, frowning as they were pushed back repeatedly by the surrounding crowd.

She walked over and called out to them in the crowd: “What a coincidence, Princess is here too?”

Despite the crushing crowd, Chuizhu managed to bow, saying: “Yes, is the Public Official with Duke Wei today?”

Huang Zixia was nodding when Princess Tongchang lifted the carriage window curtain to look at her. Her originally thin, sharp brows were now furrowed with irritation, giving her an even more aggressive air: “Official Yang, you’re here too? Where are Duke Wei’s guards? Why aren’t they clearing this crowd immediately?”

Hearing the surging anger in her words and her clear overstepping in trying to command Duke Wei’s people, Huang Zixia felt somewhat helpless and could only say: “I’m afraid the Princess will be disappointed – Duke Wei just returned from the Imperial City and has no soldiers with him.”

“Tch, not coming earlier or later, but just happening to block my carriage as it passes!” As she spoke, she turned to berate her driver, “What if we entered through the Phoenix Gate and borrowed the Crown Prince’s path – it’s not like I haven’t seen the Crown Prince before!”

The driver could only bow his head and agree repeatedly.

Hearing the mention of the Phoenix Gate, Huang Zixia started slightly and asked: “Princess has been unwell lately and should be resting quietly – why go to Taiji Palace?”

Chuizhu nodded once, looking worriedly at the crowd ahead, murmuring: “Consort Su is waiting for the Princess…”

Only Empress Wang resided in Taiji Palace now – what business could there be with Consort Guo there and Princess Tongchang summoned?

She suddenly remembered something and quickly asked: “Is His Majesty there as well?”

“This servant doesn’t know… Consort Su sent someone to inform the Princess,” Chuizhu said carefully.

Huang Zixia immediately understood – today must be a crucial moment for Empress Wang, and Consort Guo had summoned Princess Tongchang to deliver a fatal blow to the Empress.

She recalled what Empress Wang had said during their audience. At the time, the Empress had casually mentioned her return to the palace, and she had seemed confident then – she must have had important leverage against Consort Guo, but… would it be useful today?

As she pondered this, the music grew louder – the competition between the two entertainment houses had reached its climax. The woman in red on the right was performing a whirling dance, spinning left and right with wind-like speed, drawing cheers from below. The woman in green on the left had an extremely high, clear voice, singing “Spring River in the Flower Moonlight” – her voice distinct even amid the chaos, showing her skill. Right then, she happened to be singing the line:

“At this moment we gaze but cannot hear each other, wishing to follow the moonlight flowing to you…”

Huang Zixia’s eyes unconsciously turned to Princess Tongchang.

The Princess’s face was full of irritation as she cursed under her breath: “These annoying entertainers – when will Father Emperor drive them all out of Chang’an!”

With that, she slammed the carriage curtain shut. Outside, the crowd was pressing in unbearably, and the two horses pulling the carriage grew startled among the people, pacing uneasily as the carriage began to sway from side to side.

Chuizhu quickly protected the carriage door, calling inside: “Princess, Princess are you alright?”

Before she finished speaking, Princess Tongchang had already pushed open the door and stepped down in several strides.

Still unrecovered from her illness and naturally temperamental, she moved too hastily and stumbled, nearly falling.

Chuizhu quickly steadied her as over a dozen eunuchs surrounded them, pushing back the crowd.

The street was already crowded, and with these dozen people forcing their way in, the chaos increased. People watching the performance were knocked about, and some hot-tempered ones began shouting: “What are you doing? Think you’re special because you’re eunuchs? Even if the Emperor came, you can’t stop common folk from watching performances!”

Amid the chaos, Princess Tongchang’s gaze suddenly fixed on a spot in the crowd. Those sharp eyes widened as she cried out: “The Nine Phoenix Hairpin!”

Huang Zixia looked in the direction she was staring, but saw only a sea of moving heads. There were several courtesans wearing various ornaments, but they all looked gaudy and vulgar, nothing like the naturally jade-like Nine Phoenix Hairpin.

The Princess’s attendants also looked into the crowd, and Chuizhu unconsciously asked: “Princess saw the Nine Phoenix Hairpin? But… we servants don’t see it…”

“Over there, in someone’s hand!” Princess Tongchang pointed southwest, unconsciously taking two steps in that direction.

Chuizhu quickly followed, reaching out to stop her: “Princess, be careful…”

Before she could finish, Princess Tongchang was grabbed by the arm and pulled forward involuntarily. Small in stature, she was suddenly dragged into the crowd, which parted and closed again like a fierce beast opening its bloody maw, immediately swallowing her.

On the stages, dozens of singers were joined in “Spring River in the Flower Moonlight,” reaching an extremely tender and moving passage. By the end, other voices gradually fell behind, leaving only the original singer’s voice rising above all the noise, her high notes winding like mountain paths, twisting and soaring to the heavens.

The whirling dance was at its most frenzied moment, the stage filled with the graceful, supple form of the woman. She spread her arms, face toward the sky, spinning without restraint. Her hair, braided into hundreds of thin plaits, fanned out with her head scarf and clothes, flying left and right like a colorful vortex.

Chuizhu and the others’ cries of alarm were drowned by the noisy music. The Princess had vanished into the crowd before dozens of eyes, leaving all her attendants too shocked to react.

Huang Zixia was the first to recover, immediately pushing through the crowd.

In the packed throng, among clothes of all colors and people of all kinds, she too lost her bearings, standing in the street uncertain which way to go. Just then, someone grabbed her wrist and pulled her out.

Huang Zixia turned to see Li Shubai. His tall, elegant figure stood out distinctly in the crowd, and he had spotted her immediately.

She asked anxiously: “The Princess? Did my Lord see the Princess?”

Li Shubai shook his head, frowning as he said: “I’ve ordered the entertainment houses to withdraw immediately, but I’m afraid it will take some time for the crowd to disperse.”

Huang Zixia said urgently: “Before disappearing, the Princess shouted ‘Nine Phoenix Hairpin’ – I think someone must have used it to lure her away. I fear… the Princess is in grave danger!”

Li Shubai pondered briefly. His memory was extraordinary – Pingkang Ward had four main streets, sixteen side streets, and one hundred and twenty-three alleys. He had seen the Chang’an map once and retained it perfectly clearly in his mind. Eliminating the routes crowded with entertainment houses, the streets full of taverns, and dead-end alleys, the most likely dozen or so paths immediately emerged.

With a wave of his hand, he quickly assigned tasks to the Princess’s frantically searching eunuchs, directly naming which directions and connecting streets to take, even specifying which number street.

Huang Zixia looked back and noticed only three of the Princess’s attendants remained. She scanned the area and asked: “Where’s Chuizhu?”

“Chuizhu followed the Princess into the crowd and disappeared too…” Before Zhui Yu could finish speaking, a sudden scream rang out from afar, sounding especially tragic in the now-quieting street: “Help… someone help!”

It was Chuizhu’s voice.

Li Shubai and Huang Zixia reacted fastest, immediately racing toward the sound.

Behind the ward wall, in the remaining three or four feet of space, climbing vine roses grew vigorously up the courtyard wall, blooming abundantly with deep red flowers like spatters of blood on the green leaves.

At the end of the vine roses, Princess Tongchang’s body was leaning against the wall, slowly sliding down. Her eyes were already closed, her body still convulsing.

Her red robe embroidered with golden butterflies showed an unusually bright, wet stain, almost blinding in the sunlight.

Behind the vine roses were tangles of wormwood and vines, with only a few thin, lonely stalks of amaranth still swaying gently.

Chuizhu stumbled over, getting tangled in the vine roses and falling, but somehow found the strength to roll to the Princess’s side. She hugged her tightly, face white with terror, too scared to even cry out. She could only press hard against the wound on the Princess’s chest that kept gushing blood, but how could her palms stop the Princess’s life from ebbing away? She could only watch helplessly as the Princess’s vibrant life flowed out with her warm blood from her chest, seeping into the vigorously living earth, fading into nothingness.

She pressed the Princess’s wound, her face showing blank incomprehension from the shock.

Huang Zixia’s steps faltered as she rushed to their side. There, where the Princess’s blood had dripped onto the trampled, withering vine roses, lay the mysteriously vanished Nine Phoenix Hairpin.

Nine kinds of marvelous jade carved into nine gracefully soaring phoenixes – blood drops on them were lustrous and brilliant beyond words.

And the crescent-shaped end of the hairpin was now broken off, embedded in the Princess’s heart.

The bloodstains made even more vivid the two ancient seal characters carved there:

Yu’er.