She raised her hand to touch her temple, pausing when she felt the wooden hairpin in her hair, clearly remembering her disheveled state the last time her hair came loose. So she lowered her hand and drew a horizontal line on the railing with her fingertip before saying, “First, this paper’s appearance could only have been achieved by someone very close to you, so someone in your inner circle must have had ulterior motives and secretly placed it where you were going – on the city wall of Xuzhou.”
As she spoke, she drew two more lines on the railing: “Second, the red circles appeared on the paper while it was with you, changing suddenly, so this person not only followed you up to the city wall but was also close enough to access your belongings at any time. It must have been someone in your immediate circle, like an attendant.”
“Third, the military doctor’s diagnosis aligned with this paper, which indicates there wasn’t just one person involved, but at least two conspirators lurking – at minimum, one military doctor and one of your attendants.” She withdrew her hand, blew on her fingertips, and concluded, “Following the military doctor’s trail should lead to uncovering the hidden attendant.”
Li Shubai neither confirmed nor denied this, continuing: “The military doctor took his own life immediately, and I gradually dispatched all the guards I had trained over the years to various posts, never intending to recall them.”
Huang Zixia’s gaze fell on the paper: “But on it…” It seemed the red circle around ‘Disabled’ had faded, leaving only a faint trace.
“After more than half a year of treatment, my arm was saved, so the red circle around ‘Disabled’ gradually disappeared. But my left arm is now useless. I can manage daily tasks, writing and drawing are fine, but I can never wield a sword or draw a bow again.” He extended his left hand before her, wiggling his fingers. “I used to be left-handed.”
For a left-handed person to quickly train their right hand after losing the use of their dominant hand – the difficulty of such a feat would be incomprehensible to most.
Recalling how smoothly he had pulled her from the carriage, Huang Zixia couldn’t help but deeply admire the man before her. At least, she felt she might not have had the willpower to start over and train her non-dominant hand of twenty-some years to such proficiency.
“Originally, after dismissing my former attendants, I thought this matter was in the past, so I kept this paper safely hidden in a secret place, hoping to use it to expose the hidden conspiracy. However, just recently, when I heard the Emperor wanted me to choose a consort, I remembered the character for ‘Widowed’ on this paper and took it out to look. I discovered that another red circle had suddenly appeared, this time marking the character for ‘Widowed.'” He picked up the paper, his finger pressing on the cinnabar-circled character, a mocking smile appearing on his face. “A man who loses his wife is called widowed – it seems my marriage may encounter some unexpected misfortune.”
Huang Zixia took the paper from his hand, examining it carefully. The cinnabar color indeed looked fresher than the circle around ‘Orphaned,’ making its blood-red hue appear even more terrifying and urgent.
“It’s incredible as if ghosts and spirits are at work like fate itself is predetermined. After three or four years, this paper suddenly sprouted new blood flowers.” Li Shubai said slowly, “I’ve changed my attendants many times, and I protected this paper more carefully than state secrets, yet unexpectedly, this paper that should have been secure still manifested an ill omen.”
Huang Zixia put down the paper and said, “It seems this paper may be far more complex than we imagined.”
“Indeed.” He responded, pausing for a while before continuing slowly, “In any case, someone will certainly try to use my marriage to cause trouble this time. And the consort I’ve chosen, the daughter of the Wang family of Langya, seems to have a complicated background. If someone tries to use my marriage for their purposes or create trouble, making a big issue of it, for example—”
His gaze lingered on her for a long time before saying, “I suddenly remembered that Wang Yun, the eldest grandson of the Wang family’s main branch, was your betrothed. You refused to marry him to the death, even poisoning your family – it’s the greatest shame of his life. While he might endure such shame, I cannot.”
“I did not kill my parents and family.” She bit her lower lip, enunciating each word. “If you want my help, don’t mention this matter in front of me again.”
He glanced at her and said, “I’m just repeating others’ views, not my own.”
She lightly bit her lower lip and asked softly, “When did you start believing I hadn’t killed my family?”
He gave her an ambiguous smile, stood up, and walked across the winding bridge over the water, seemingly unwilling to say more.
They walked along the dimly lit narrow path toward the brightly lit pavilions. Following behind him, Huang Zixia heard him say slowly, “Indeed, because I saw your palm and could tell you hadn’t killed anyone.”
She froze, then immediately pointed out the flaw in his words: “Last time when you looked at my palm, you clearly said you saw from my palm lines that I had poisoned my family, and that’s how you deduced my identity!”
“I lied.”
“Then how did you discover my identity last time?”
“You don’t need to know that.” He ended all discussion with one sentence. “You just need to help me uncover the mystery behind this paper, and your task will be complete.”
“Then why don’t you just examine everyone’s palm lines around you? Wouldn’t that clear everything up?” she persisted in asking.
“Not interested,” he said without looking back. “Because compared to looking at others’ palm lines, I prefer watching people pretend to be little eunuchs.”
So the unfortunate little eunuch of the Prince of Kui’s manor, Huang Zixia – no, Yang Chonggu – followed the Prince into the palace, to the Penglai Pavilion of Daming Palace, to participate in the selection of the Prince of Kui’s consort.
In the third month, without sunlight, even the blooming peach and plum blossoms in the imperial garden couldn’t drive away the palace’s chill.
“How strange, even though Daming Palace is built on a sunny highland, why does it seem even colder than the city?”
Hearing Huang Zixia’s muttered self-talk, Li Shubai glanced at her and said, “Because this is the inner palace, the noblest place under heaven, and also where the dynasty’s conspiracies flourish most.”
Huang Zixia looked at the rippling water below and fell silent. Because some things could be said by some people, but not by others.
They were standing on the high platform of Penglai Hall, looking down at Taiye Pool. In the gusting wind, the flowering trees along the entire pool swayed like a vast ocean of flowers, with the azure Taiye Pool nestled among waves of pink and white blossoms.
“Most of the young ladies have already arrived. Why doesn’t Your Highness go inside to see what they’re discussing?” Huang Zixia asked.
Li Shubai’s face held an ambiguous smile as he glanced at her sideways and asked, “What’s the hurry?”
Huang Zixia could only suppress her desire to see the capital’s beauties and wait for his word. Then she heard him ask, “How’s the token?”
“Very well.” She opened the brocade box she had been holding and looked inside. While everyone in the palace was speculating what precious jade or rare treasure the Prince of Kui would give his future consort, they didn’t know that what she held was a perfectly blooming Four-Colored Glaze peony.
Huang Zixia gazed at this incomparably gorgeous crimson peony and said, “This morning, following Your Highness’s instructions, I cut it at the moment it bloomed. The gardener Liu didn’t understand and cursed at me for quite a while, saying he had spent over two months nurturing it with underground passages and charcoal fire, finally getting this one peony to bloom. With this flower cut, there would be no more rare Four-Colored Glaze blossoms to see this year.”
Li Shubai’s lips finally showed a slight smile as he said, “Gardener Liu has indeed rendered meritorious service.”
“Using a peony as a token, Your Highness is truly refined,” Huang Zixia said, closing the box and holding it. Seeing that rare pleasant expression on Li Shubai’s face, she couldn’t help thinking to herself that fine flowers don’t bloom long and wither quickly – how could someone as clever as Prince of Kui Li Shubai not have thought of this? Probably because other tokens could be well preserved, and if one wanted to change their mind later, requesting the return of the token would be awkward.
Holding the peony, thinking of the cursed paper she had seen days ago, she couldn’t help but feel deep sympathy for the woman who would be chosen as consort.
Soon, a lady-in-waiting from the Empress’s side came to say that everyone had arrived and invited the Prince to proceed as he wished.
Li Shubai gestured for Huang Zixia to follow her into the inner hall.
By dynasty custom, when a prince chose a consort, the candidates were usually daughters of important court officials or noble families, all of high status, so naturally, they wouldn’t be individually examined and selected. Although everyone knew what was happening before the election, it wouldn’t be spoken of directly. A banquet would be set in the front hall, while the prince observed from behind a screen in the rear hall. If he found someone suitable, he could tell others, and that young lady would be invited to the rear hall to receive a token personally given by the prince. He would ask her name and status, nothing more, but everything would be settled.
Huang Zixia followed Li Shubai into the side hall. Multiple layers of curtains hung in the hall, with the doors between the front and rear halls closed but decorated with auspicious carved patterns covered in silver-red cicada-wing gauze. He could see everyone in the front hall through them, while those in the front hall could only vaguely make out his outline.
Perhaps sensing him watching from behind, all the young ladies seemed somewhat unnatural in their movements, except for one young woman sitting at the Empress’s right hand, who remained composed and at ease, showing no signs of constraint.
Huang Zixia’s gaze fell on Empress Wang. She wore red robes with cloud and sunset patterns, her beauty extreme, with slightly upturned phoenix eyes that were both keen and clear. When she looked around, there seemed to be a radiance emanating from within her – truly luminous. She was the Langya Wang family’s second empress, summoned to the palace and made empress after her sister’s death. She must have been twenty-five or twenty-six but looked only just over twenty.
All the women in the hall had dressed with care in magnificent clothes, clustered like flowers around the seats, yet none could steal even a bit of Empress Wang’s radiance. Huang Zixia admired this, thinking that three years ago when she had an audience with the empress, she had been just a child who didn’t understand what it meant to be devastatingly beautiful. Now, growing older, she finally understood that a beauty’s charm could reach such heights.
The young woman beside Empress Wang must be her clan sister, named Wang Ruo, from the Langya Wang family. Sitting together with the empress, though they were cousins, they looked nothing alike. Like her name, Empress Wang, whose given name was Wang Shao, wore magnificent crimson brocade, like a peony of unspeakable splendor. Wang Ruo wore a lotus-colored jacket and skirt, appearing in comparison like peach and plum blossoms – graceful and charming. Though ultimately not matching the empress’s coloring and bearing, she was young and delicate, with an enchanting innocence and romance.
Beyond these two, though the other women were not lacking, they all paled in comparison. Huang Zixia spotted a young woman wearing a Xiang Fei-colored moonlight dress among the crowd, with slightly full cheeks and beautifully almond-shaped eyes, though her slightly raised chin showed her outstanding temperament while also giving her a natural arrogance – Huang Zixia thought this must be the Princess of Qile who everyone said was desperately trying to marry the Prince of Kui. Currently, Consort Zhao was in charge of palace affairs, and it was said the Princess of Qile had even bribed palace servants to let her help Consort Zhao copy sutras, all to get Consort Zhao to match her with the Prince of Kui, but to no avail.
While Huang Zixia was thinking this, she saw Li Shubai already beckoning the senior lady-in-waiting Chang Ling over, pointing to Wang Ruo and saying, “It’s her.”
Huang Zixia was surprised – wasn’t this too quick? How could he decide on such a life-changing matter as choosing a consort with just one glance? But she could only say, “Doesn’t Your Highness want to consider further?”
Li Shubai’s tone was flat: “When choosing someone to spend your life with from a group of people you know nothing about, is there anything to consider?”
“But the lady Your Highness has chosen must have something special about her.”
He turned to look at her, his lips curling slightly as if smiling, though his eyes showed no joy, and said flatly, “Indeed, among all the candidates, she is the most beautiful.”