The call of partridges echoed in her ears. In the warmth of June, even the wind was gentle as water, brushing past like the thinnest silk, making one’s skin tingle as if hearing the lingering songs of lotus-picking maidens by distant waters.

It was in this season of harmony between heaven and earth that twelve-year-old Huang Zixia heard her father calling. As she turned from the water’s edge, sunlight struck her eyes directly, casting the world before her in a blood-red or carnelian glow.

In this strange crimson light, she saw the youth standing beside her father, wearing shabby clothes with a downcast expression that couldn’t hide his pale skin and jet-black hair. He gazed at her with eyes like drops of black lacquer, as dark as the stillest night, deep and distant. From that moment on, his image seemed carved into her heart with a blade’s edge, impossible to erase for all eternity.

She stood barefoot in the pond, the lotus flowers in her arms unknowingly falling onto the water’s surface.

She saw a faint smile in the youth’s eyes as he slowly walked over to help her gather the budding lotus flowers from the water one by one. He must have noticed the mud spots on her calves and the grass clinging to her gauze skirt, but he only smiled gently, offering her the flowers he had collected. When he gazed at her, his eyes held not the usual look given to little girls, but rather a tenderness she had never seen before – the gentle gaze of a young man toward a young woman.

Sometimes, all it takes for a girl to grow up is a single look from someone.

“Yu Xuan…” Huang Zixia suddenly sat up in bed, reaching out to grasp the lingering scenes before her, only to find it was just a dream in the phantom night.

In the pitch-black night, howling winds blew outside the window. The spring cold was bitter, penetrating to the bone. Huang Zixia clutched her brocade quilt in the heavy darkness, silently watching the past dreams slip through her fingertips.

She forcefully suppressed her breathing and slowly lay back down, burying herself in the silk-cotton brocade bedding. Since solving the Four Directions case, she had become famous in the capital, and as a small eunuch in the Prince of Kui’s manor, she was treated exceptionally well. All her daily necessities were of the highest quality, even better than when she was the daughter of a provincial governor in Shu.

Yet lying in the warm, soft bedding, she found it harder to sleep than when she had trudged through rain in the wilderness. She lay with eyes wide open, listening to the wind outside in the darkness. After a long while, she finally threw off her covers, got up to dress, and walked out the door.

Surrounded by layers of tree shadows, she traversed the many courtyards of the Prince of Kui’s manor from memory. The patrolling guards ignored her – presumably, everyone in the manor knew of her recent rise to fame, so she could come and go freely without restriction.

She walked to the Jingyu Hall and saw moonlight spilling over the flowers and trees. All was quiet at this fourth watch of the night – Li Shubai would naturally still be sleeping.

Only then did she realize that no matter how urgent she felt after last night’s dream, how could the Prince of Kui, Li Shubai, rise in the dead of night to attend to her feelings?

So she could only sit on a stone beneath the flowering trees outside the hall, resting her face on her bent knees, planning to sit quietly for a while before returning to wait for his summons.

After sitting for an unknown time, the moonlight dimmed and a faint navy blue appeared on the horizon. The spring dew was heavy, soaking her hem as she stared absent-mindedly at the grass sprouts on the ground. Then she saw a pair of black leather boots step on the newly sprouted tips.

Looking up from the boots, she saw he wore purple robes embroidered with dark cyan kui dragons, cut especially trim and straight. At his waist hung a purple jade pendant carved with celestial towers, tied with an eighteen-knot cyan silk cord. The sleeves and collar were simply cut with narrow cuffs and a square neck – the very style being widely imitated in the capital.

Prince of Kui Li Shubai wore his hat at a rakish angle, and whatever clothes he wore would become fashionable within days. Just looking at his appearance, he truly seemed like a royal scion indulging in luxury and pleasure.

Huang Zixia rested her face on her knees, watching him and thinking this to herself.

Li Shubai stood before her, looking down. Seeing her watching him without speaking, he turned to look at the palace lanterns in the flowering trees and asked, “On such a starry, windy night, what flowers could a small eunuch like you be admiring before dawn?”

Huang Zixia said softly, “I had a dream last night. I… I wanted to ask what task you’ve entrusted me with, and whether I can complete it quickly to return to Shu soon.”

Li Shubai glanced at her in the lantern light without speaking but walked past her to the nearby corridor.

Huang Zixia stood up and followed him to the corridor, where she saw him sit down casually. She remained standing, waiting for him to speak.

The palace lanterns hanging in the corridor swayed unsteadily. In the night breeze, the silk lanterns painted with the Penglai fairy islands spun askew, making Li Shubai’s features seem to merge with the night, hard to distinguish between light and shadow.

Li Shubai was in no hurry to acknowledge her, only raising his head to gaze at the palace lantern hanging under the upturned eaves and flying rafters, staring for a long time. Huang Zixia’s emotions were unsettled as she stood under the lantern keeping him company for a while. Finally feeling something was amiss, she turned to look at the lantern – an ordinary octagonal palace lantern with fine red-lacquered wooden poles joined to form auspicious cloud and thunder patterns, its white gauze surface painted with immortal mountains and seas, among which were nine-tiered towers with immortals coming and going.

She could see nothing special about this lantern. When she turned back, she found Li Shubai watching her, his gaze in the dim lantern light as dark as distant stars.

She touched her face, but before she could ask anything, she heard Li Shubai slowly begin to speak: “What a coincidence – just now, I also had a dream. I dreamed I was standing on the city wall of Xuzhou, looking down at the countless buildings below. After waking, I could no longer fall asleep.”

Huang Zixia sat sideways on the waterside railing, silently watching him. He saw her gaze, as bright as stars and moon, as fluctuating as waves.

“For many years, there has been something extremely strange and difficult to explain about me. Being in the midst of it, I’ve been at a loss to understand, so I’ve been searching for someone who might help me solve this mystery.” He gazed at the ethereal immortal mountains on the lantern and slowly asked, “Do you know why I said I would give you ten days?”

Huang Zixia shook her head, watching him in the swaying lantern light with questioning eyes.

“Because that is the day I choose a consort – a day and event that makes me very uncomfortable.” He let out a long breath, leaning back against the corridor railing. The flickering lantern light cast on him this spring night made him appear especially ethereal.

“Years ago, in Xuzhou, I obtained a paper of admonition. What was written on it troubled me greatly.”

Xuzhou-Huang Zixia suddenly recalled a major event that had shocked the world years ago, and her expression changed. Li Shubai said, “Yes, Xuzhou was the turning point of my fate. Everyone says it was my lucky place. But no one knows that after I pacified Xuzhou, on the last night before returning to the capital, when I stood on the city wall looking down at the entire city, something happened that I remember vividly to this day.”

At this point, he finally turned back to look at her and took a paper from his sleeve.

The paper was thick and slightly yellow, about two inches wide and eight inches long. The background pattern was written in cinnabar in a strange snake-like script, with six large characters written in dark ink reading “Widowed, Disabled, Orphaned, Alone, Crippled, Diseased.” Among them, the characters for “Widowed” and “Orphaned” were strikingly marked with blood-red circles, as fate circled in fresh blood, appearing unbearably oppressive.

Li Shubai’s finger traced over the snake-like cinnabar patterns in the background, saying, “This background pattern is Insect-Snake Script, and it writes out my birth date and time.”

Huang Zixia looked at the six inauspicious characters printed over his birth information, and the two blood-like circles, feeling an ominous sensation rising in her heart.

Li Shubai placed the paper on the railing, pressing it lightly with his hand, and said, “This paper appeared on that night when I stood on Xuzhou’s city walls overlooking the city. It seemed to appear silently on the battlement beside me. When I first got it, there were only six characters, without these two red circles – only on the character for ‘Orphaned’ was there a faint trace of a red circle appearing.” His finger pointed to that character as if caressing his past life. “A boy who loses his father is called an orphan. At that time my father the Emperor had passed away, but my mother was still alive, so I didn’t think much of it, assuming it was just an ordinary curse from an opponent. I kept it, planning to search among those around me to see who dared bring such a thing to my side. But who knew…”

His gaze turned to the palace lantern beside them. In the still night, the lantern cast slightly swaying light, and Huang Zixia felt that in this instant, everything around them seemed to become hazy.

“That night, I had countless nightmares, tossing and turning with those six characters – Widowed, Disabled, Orphaned, Alone, Crippled, Diseased. When I woke wanting to burn that cursed paper, I took it out to look and found that the originally faint red trace of a circle around the character for ‘Orphaned’ had suddenly darkened, becoming what you see now.” His finger pointed to that character. Under the stars and moon, the red circle beside his finger bloomed like an eerie red flower, or like the spread of fresh blood, shocking to behold. “It was also on that day, at that moment, that an urgent message arrived from the capital. When I opened it, I discovered it contained news of my mother’s death.”

On the very day the red circle marked “Orphaned,” he truly became an orphan, with no parents remaining.

Huang Zixia saw his hand withdraw from the paper, unconsciously clenching into a fist. Those exceptionally handsome hands, from gripping too tightly, had knuckles turning slightly white. She couldn’t help saying, “Perhaps it was just coincidence, Your Highness need not think too much of it.”

“On the way back to the capital from Xuzhou after receiving news of my mother’s death, I encountered an assassination attempt. I was stabbed in the left arm – though the wound wasn’t deep, the weapon was poisoned. All the military doctors said my arm couldn’t be saved, that if I wanted to live, I would have to sacrifice my left arm.” His right hand lightly stroked his left arm, as if that pain still lingered in his body. “At that time, I took out this paper I had been carrying with me and saw that a bright red circle was faintly appearing on it, marking the character for ‘Disabled.'”

The night was silent. A sudden gust of wind came, making the lantern spin sharply, casting dim light beside them. The paper with its scarlet circles fluttered at the corner in the wind, like fate itself rippling.

Li Shubai looked at her, his expression so calm it was almost rigid: “Do you know what I did then?”

Huang Zixia held the paper, standing under the swaying lanterns, gazing at him unblinkingly, and said, “I guess Your Highness must have arrested the military doctors and interrogated them for the true culprit.”

Li Shubai’s previously tense face slowly relaxed, and even in the reddish lantern light, a hint of a smile seemed to appear at the corners of his lips. His formerly cold countenance, now softened by the smile, suddenly revealed a gentle clarity like a spring breeze. Though the smile was very faint, it couldn’t hide what flowed from his heart. He said, “Huang Zixia, you are indeed like me – someone who doesn’t believe in fate.”

“In my three years in Shu Prefecture, I handled twenty-six murder cases, eight of which had supernatural rumors. But when the truth came to light, they were all just people with ulterior motives playing at ghosts and spirits. For example, the Four Directions case from a few days ago also falsely invoked supernatural claims.” Huang Zixia pressed her hand on his paper and said, “Just like this paper – what Your Highness has described already reveals the perpetrator’s intentions.”

Li Shubai gazed at her and said pleasantly, “Why don’t you explain?”