Later that same evening, once the camp had been set up, Shen Suzhan announced in the main tent that the hunt’s destination had been changed to Shouzhou.
An immediate stir broke out inside the tent.
Seated in the positions of honor below the emperor were two chief ministers — Prime Minister Wang Jue and Vice Chancellor Fu Xuanmiao — who formed a subtle opposition to one another. The moment Shen Suzhan’s decision was announced, all others in the tent wore expressions of evident surprise, while these two alone did not.
As the emperor’s still-living sister who had managed to return to the imperial fold, Shen Zhuxi had been granted the honor of sitting at Shen Suzhan’s side.
She sat as she had in the days before she left the palace — poised but slightly restrained, quietly present, the sheer fabric hanging from her veiled hat swaying gently across her face. She was like a pleasing decorative fixture.
“Shouzhou is a considerable distance away, and Your Majesty left the palace in haste this time without thorough preparation,” Fu Xuanmiao spoke. “In this humble servant’s view, since Jiangzhou has already made all arrangements for the hunt, it might be better to hold the hunt in Jiangzhou this year. Next year, the Shouzhou prefect can be ordered to make preparations and welcome the imperial procession.”
Wang Jue gave a light cough, stroked the white beard beneath his lips, and spoke: “His Majesty is already in Jiangzhou. It is true that there is some distance between Jianzhou and Shouzhou, but from Jiangzhou to Shouzhou, there is only one Shuzhou between them. One can hardly call that a great distance.”
“The false Liao dynasty was only destroyed a few months ago. Many remnants still lurk across the land, harboring hopes of rekindling their cause. His Majesty’s person is of supreme importance — one cannot be too cautious. For Chancellor Wang to treat this matter so lightly — does he not place any value on His Majesty’s safety?”
Fu Xuanmiao’s expression was placid, but his words were a needle hidden in silk.
Wang Jue’s face darkened: “His Majesty’s safety is, in this old servant’s heart, of greater importance than anything else. However, so long as those malcontents with treacherous intentions do not stir up trouble, what danger could His Majesty possibly face?”
“Danger, by its very nature, is impossible to fully guard against. If everyone adopts Chancellor Wang’s attitude of not bothering to guard at all…” Fu Xuanmiao lowered his gaze, and a faint smile seemed to ghost across the corner of his lips, “…then danger will be lurking everywhere.”
Wang Jue stared darkly at Fu Xuanmiao.
Once the standoff between the two ministers reached a temporary pause, the gathered officials in the tent divided into three camps. Those who supported Wang Jue attacked Fu Xuanmiao for disregarding the emperor’s wishes; those who supported Fu Xuanmiao attacked Wang Jue for showing contempt toward the safety of the Son of Heaven.
The tent erupted into noise like a pot of boiling water, with insignificant bubbles crashing into one another in utter chaos.
Shen Zhuxi quietly shifted her gaze toward Shen Suzhan at the head of the table. The young emperor, with his striking, refined features, wore a plain everyday robe of vine-yellow damask silk, its surface laid with a repeating pattern of large acanthus leaf motifs. At first glance it seemed unremarkable, but on closer inspection the embroidery was winter jasmine branches — the acanthus leaves and jasmine branches one visible, one subtle — transforming what would have been a stately and imposing imperial robe into something fresh and elegant, even playfully lively.
Shen Suzhan had always been this way.
Even as Crown Prince, his reputation for frivolous, indulgent behavior had repeatedly enraged the late emperor. Now that he had ascended the throne, with no one above him to answer to, his tastes extended from the Eastern Palace throughout all of Great Yan. Shen Zhuxi quietly observed the officials and palace attendants who had accompanied him on this journey — their dress was uniformly ornate and extravagant, with no trace whatsoever of people who had recently survived a great calamity.
All of this cast a shadow in her heart.
“Since His Majesty’s decision is final,” Fu Xuanmiao said, “this humble servant will offer no further objection. It is only a pity that this servant and the Princess of Yue will be unable to continue accompanying the imperial party.”
Shen Suzhan narrowed his eyes and said slowly:
“…Why is that?”
“The matter of Military Commissioner Li Zhuzong’s fall from the cliff has yet to be fully investigated. This servant must escort the suspect Bai Rongling back to Jianzhou and personally hand him over to the officials of the Court of Judicial Review. And since the Princess of Yue is one of the parties involved in this case, she cannot be absent from the investigation.” Fu Xuanmiao said.
“Now that the suspect has already been apprehended, what does it matter where the trial is held — why must it be in Jianzhou specifically? It is not as though we lack the personnel of the Three Judicial Offices here —” Shen Suzhan glanced toward one man in the tent. “Isn’t that right, Lord Zhang?”
Left Vice Minister of Justice Zhang Rong clasped his hands in a bow: “Your Majesty is correct.”
“This case has far-reaching entanglements, and it would be difficult to coordinate without returning to Jianzhou. For the sake of uncovering the truth as quickly as possible, this servant respectfully requests that Your Majesty permit him to escort the suspect and the Princess of Yue back to Jianzhou at the earliest opportunity,” Fu Xuanmiao said, lowering his gaze, his tone calm but firm.
The officials of the Fu faction in the tent immediately began speaking in support one after another, urging Shen Suzhan to consider the greater picture. For a time, the voices imploring Shen Suzhan to allow Fu Xuanmiao to take the Princess of Yue and the suspect back to Jianzhou first grew ever louder and more insistent.
Shen Zhuxi, anxious that something might change, quickly looked toward Shen Suzhan. He, contrary to her expectations, wore an expression of absolute, unruffled confidence — not the slightest trace of panic.
“Is that so? If Lord Fu is eager to return to Jianzhou, that is not entirely out of the question —” Shen Suzhan’s words took a turn, “However, it is a pity that Madam Fang will not be able to enjoy the pleasures of the hunt alongside you.”
The moment those words left Shen Suzhan’s lips, the air in the tent visibly stiffened.
The torches inside the tent flickered and wavered. Fu Xuanmiao sat perfectly still. The shadows on his face seemed to deepen. Shen Zhuxi had never seen such an expression on him before. It was not that his expression changed greatly, but beneath that face — luminous as the moon, the very picture of an elegant young gentleman — another person seemed to surface, looking at Shen Suzhan with a cold and chilling gaze.
Shen Zhuxi had always been sensitive to others’ emotions. Goodwill made her feel warmed, as if by spring; malice pricked her back like needles. Though Fu Xuanmiao had not uttered a word, and his expression had not shifted markedly — not even the hidden icy glint in his gaze had fallen upon her — she still felt a cold, sharp sensation at her back, like needles piercing her spine. Yet Shen Suzhan, squarely in the crosshairs, seemed completely unaware, his face animated with the triumph of having found Fu Xuanmiao’s weak point:
“When We were preparing for the hunt, We thought specifically of you, beloved subject. Madam Fang’s eyesight is poor, and she has long been confined within her inner chambers. We thought to take this opportunity to let her experience the magnificent rivers and mountains of Great Yan in its restoration, and to give you a chance to accompany your mother in the pleasures of the hunt. Who would have imagined — who would have imagined…”
Shen Suzhan shook his head and continued:
“That you, beloved subject, are so devoted to your duties. Madam Fang will likely be disappointed. But it does not matter — even if you cannot go, the pleasures of the hunt are still hers to enjoy. We will assign a few capable palace attendants to attend to Madam Fang’s needs along the way. Beloved subject, go back at ease!”
At ease?
With a hostage in hand, how was anyone expected to be at ease?
Shen Zhuxi did not dare lift her eyes to look at Fu Xuanmiao’s face — let Shen Suzhan do the looking, since he had the nerve.
Now it all made sense. No wonder it had been so easy to persuade Shen Suzhan — he had made up his mind from the very beginning to keep Fu Xuanmiao within the hunting party. For that purpose, he had even gone so far as to bring Madam Fang — a woman with severely impaired eyesight who rarely went beyond the inner gate — out of Jianzhou!
Inside the tent, not a sound was made. The officials who had been so clamorous just moments ago had all suddenly learned the art of silence.
“Your Majesty’s generosity,” Fu Xuanmiao said slowly, his tone cold, like a thin trickle of water flowing out of an icy pond, murmuring through the oppressive air, “…is something this humble servant will never forget, for all his days.”
Fu Xuanmiao lowered his head. His long, thick lashes concealed every trace of what lay beneath. He clasped his hands in a bow and said slowly:
“Your Majesty’s painstaking care — this humble servant would not dare fail to honor it.”
The tension in the tent eased. Shen Suzhan laughed heartily: “Excellent! Then it is decided. Tomorrow at first light, all my beloved subjects will accompany Us to Shouzhou for the hunt!”
…
After the meeting in the main tent concluded, Shen Zhuxi was the last to step outside.
She hesitated for a long while, and in the end swallowed the impulse to ask her imperial brother for help regarding her pregnancy. Shen Suzhan could not even be bothered to care whether she lived or died — would he truly concern himself with the safety of her child?
Shen Zhuxi thought it over from every angle and concluded that she could not appeal to Shen Suzhan. But before Fu Xuanmiao, she needed to give the impression that Shen Suzhan was already aware — that way, she might give Fu Xuanmiao reason to hesitate and hold back from acting rashly.
Only after she had made up her mind did she step out of the main tent.
She looked up, and there, just a few paces away, stood Fu Xuanmiao — tall and upright, his features as finely drawn as a painting, his nose a proud, sharp ridge. The thin, pale glow of moonlight lay lightly over him. Shen Zhuxi looked at his profile and was suddenly struck still — an inexplicable sense of familiarity welled up in her heart.
Fu Xuanmiao seemed to notice the rustling of the tent flap and turned to meet her gaze. That strange feeling dissolved from Shen Zhuxi’s heart at once. When she looked at his face again, she could not find any resemblance to anyone at all.
The same feeling, she thought, seemed to have come over her once before.
When had that been?
Fu Xuanmiao walked slowly toward her and stopped before her, clasping his hands in a bow:
“This humble servant pays his respects to the Princess.”
The moment Fu Xuanmiao spoke, the irrelevant question fled her mind entirely.
As long as she remained at his side, invisible threads would wind themselves around her body, and that shadow — impossible to shake — would press down heavily above her head, looking down at her from a position of dominance.
Shen Zhuxi stiffened, gave a vague sound in acknowledgment, and attempted to walk past him.
Fu Xuanmiao followed, unhurried.
Their moon-cast shadows stretched at their feet, one tall and one shorter, moving in silence. Shen Zhuxi was the first to lose composure, and she spoke: “Are you not going to see your mother?”
“I will go once I have seen the Princess back to her quarters.”
The exchange ended, and the air became stifling once more.
Shen Zhuxi wished she could sprout wings, shake him off, and fly straight back to her tent.
“Does the Princess still recall the last time we walked together beneath the moonlight?” Fu Xuanmiao suddenly asked.
Shen Zhuxi’s instinct was to retort “Did we?” — but reason kept her silent.
“It was the day Princess Qingyang was married off. I accompanied you all the way until the palace gates were locked for the night,” Fu Xuanmiao said softly.
His words stirred something from Shen Zhuxi’s memory.
It had been a winter’s day. Winter evenings always came early and lingered late.
That day, the full moon had risen above the horizon not long after dusk. Shen Zhuxi had wept for days over Princess Qingyang’s marriage into a station below her rank. If she had not agreed to Princess Qingyang’s invitation and sneaked out of the palace, how would they ever have fallen into the hands of those assailants? How would Princess Qingyang’s reputation have been ruined, forcing her into a hasty marriage?
Shen Zhuxi had taken all the blame upon herself, and had wished she could take Princess Qingyang’s place and be married off to that pacification commissioner in some remote frontier land.
Fu Xuanmiao had come to the palace to accompany her every day. During that time, he did not require her to play the zither she disliked, nor to study dull strategy texts. He was simply present beside her like the air itself. He had even used the Empress’s name to order the performers of the Inner Teaching Bureau to prepare song and dance for her to enjoy.
During that time, she had come to understand Fu Xuanmiao more clearly.
What kind of person was he?
He was the kind of person who, to make her happy, would take her to enjoy the performances of the Inner Teaching Bureau — and also the kind who, when she timidly let slip “their costumes are so beautiful,” would smile and say to her — in her own dull, heavy garments, their colors muted and subdued — “Xi’er’s outfit is more beautiful.”
After Shen Zhuxi said those words, she never again saw the performers wear their bright, vivid costumes.
She had felt it was her fault. After that, even on the rare occasions when she had the chance to see a performance, she stopped going.
She had been confined inside a magnificent cage of solid gold, inlaid with pearls. She gazed in vain at the blue sky beyond. Her keeper watched her with gentle eyes. As long as she surrendered her own mind and will, his gentleness — within any foreseeable span of time — would not end.
“I have never forgotten that night,” Fu Xuanmiao’s gentle voice fell across the still moonlit quiet. “You said to me, ‘Thank you for staying with me.’ Those words… I have never forgotten them. The glory of that night’s stars — I have not forgotten that either. Xi’er… have you forgotten it all?”
“I was only expressing my gratitude to you…” Shen Zhuxi said, low and flustered.
“I know you were only thanking me,” Fu Xuanmiao said. “But what I felt for you — was not gratitude.”
“…”
“The first time I saw you was when I was twelve years old. My aunt had summoned me into the palace for an audience. My father brought me to the Empress’s Palace, and on the way, we came upon you, who had slipped and fallen into a pond. Do you remember?”
Shen Zhuxi remembered it, of course.
She had been only seven years old that year. Chasing a butterfly in play, she had tumbled carelessly into the water, sending all the palace maids nearby into a panic, their wits completely scattered. Fu Xuanmiao, passing by, had leaped into the water without a second thought and hauled her out — her stomach already full of pond water.
Afterward, her mother’s consort had arranged for someone to teach her to swim.
Later still, the Empress took it upon herself to betroth her to Fu Xuanmiao.
Though betrothed, they were not close. Fu Xuanmiao treated her with warmth, but without true intimacy. To him, she seemed little different from before — except that she had gained the title of his intended.
The change in how he treated her — the way he became attentive and different — seemed to begin after her mother’s consort fell from favor.
When everyone else was avoiding her, he did the opposite, making one exception after another to send her care and consideration.
Perhaps it was pity.
At the time, he had not yet earned the title of First Gentleman Under Heaven, but the world had already begun to praise him as a man of feeling and integrity, a man who kept his word, a man of noble character.
If time could be turned back, Shen Zhuxi would still choose to meet Li Wu — but she would never again chase after that iridescent, glass-winged butterfly.
Without either of them noticing, the two had already arrived before the tent where Shen Zhuxi was lodging. Shen Zhuxi gave a perfunctory bow and turned toward the entrance. Behind her, all was quiet. Just as the palace maid lifted the tent flap for her, Fu Xuanmiao’s voice came from behind her.
“Xi’er,” he said, “whether or not you believe it — our meeting —”
“Was destiny.”