Yong Palace

Located twenty li northwest of Xianyang, in dense forest stood a palace built with extravagant grandeur. This palace chamber where once silk and bamboo sounds never ceased had now fallen completely silent, secluded like a massive desolate tomb.

On winter’s deep night, even bird songs and insect chirps had disappeared. Several braziers still burned on the ground. The charcoal fire burned vigorously yet still couldn’t warm away the loneliness in this hall that chilled the heart.

Zhao Ji wore a light yellow gathered silk shirt, shoulders draped with pale yellow printed cloud cape, lower body wearing a five-colored flowered silk skirt, feet in phoenix-head shoes, hair in towering cloud bun, wearing a golden hibiscus crown. Qin honored black—with her noble status, she could naturally wear ceremonial robes and sashes of the same color and style as the King of Qin. But since youth she’d loved brightly colored garments. Besides attending rather solemn occasions, privately she dressed as colorfully as possible.

Red makeup, jade brows—several layers of powder on her face barely covered the lines at her eye corners. The few silver-white strands at her temples were also concealed as much as possible with hair ornaments. Only sparse lamps lit inside the great hall—not from insufficient lamp oil, but because in such lighting, others couldn’t see clearly the wrinkles on her face. As a nation’s most honored woman, though fallen to the most wretched state, Zhao Ji still maintained her dignity as much as possible.

Fortunately, though her son imprisoned her here, he never mistreated her material needs. Only the attendants around her were all replaced with palace maids. Men were normally forbidden from entering Yong Palace.

Thinking this, Zhao Ji glanced at the man who’d been hiding in shadows since entering the hall, not knowing how he’d infiltrated Yong Palace.

Inside the great hall, gifts were displayed dazzlingly—most were spring seasonal robes and accessories she should receive, plus some Zhao war spoils. Zhao Ji was born in Zhao, spending her life’s best times in Zhao. So perhaps to cater to her preferences, these spoils were all carefully selected treasures, even including a pair of dragon-phoenix purple clam hairpins passed down through Zhao’s royal family generations, worn only by queens.

These hairpins made from a pair of rare purple clam shells, after polishing, changed colors unpredictably with shifting light. Moreover, clam shells are curved, yet these hairpins were perfectly straight. From their length and thickness, one could deduce how enormous those shells were, not to mention the carved dragons and phoenixes showing every detail vividly lifelike. Zhao Ji had heard Zhao’s Queen Dowager mention these items in letters more than once. Seeing them immediately, she took them in hand for close examination.

Years ago, Queen Dowager Zhao was merely a prostitute. The two had even met several times at Zhao banquets. Back then, who could have imagined two small dancing girls—one would become Zhao’s Queen Dowager, the other Qin’s Queen Dowager.

Smart, beautiful women often compared with each other. Regardless of whether Zhao or Qin had stronger national power, Zhao Ji felt she still won—after all, this pair of dragon-phoenix purple clam hairpins was now in her hands. As for whether Queen Dowager Zhao was dead or alive, she had no interest in knowing.

Playing with this pair of dragon-phoenix purple clam hairpins, Zhao Ji walked gracefully from a pile of rare treasures. Her deliberately painted eye corners casually swept past, finally landing on that person standing in the hall’s corner.

Though lamps burning in the hall couldn’t illuminate the other’s features, they were sufficient to outline the strong physique beneath chestnut-colored Hu garments, every line so perfect.

Zhao Ji licked her slightly dry lips. She’d been imprisoned here for a full ten years. What Lao Ai looked like—she’d long forgotten completely clean. She only knew this man could infiltrate Yong Palace once soundlessly, so he could come here a second time, third time…

“Speak. What do you want?” Zhao Ji waved her sleeve, unable to endure such silence anymore. Usually long accustomed to this great hall’s deathly stillness, but now it made her feel a suffocating sticky sensation.

“I have long admired my lady.” That person spoke. His voice was low with some shrillness. Plus his deliberate affectation maintaining a neither-high-nor-low tone made listening very uncomfortable.

But Zhao Ji trembled, even her breathing stopped. This sentence was precisely what Lao Ai said upon first meeting her—his very first words.

Perhaps stirred by past memories, perhaps by the other’s darkly ambiguous address, perhaps because the other hinted at seeking like Lao Ai, Zhao Ji’s originally tense face relaxed slightly. She walked two more steps toward that dark corner, softly laughing, “Speak freely.”

“My lady secluded here truly pains me unbearably. After years of effort, finally having a day to see my lady’s true countenance—truly blessed through three lifetimes.” That person spoke again, but now changed to another accent.

Zhao Ji froze completely. Because this person spoke with a Zhao accent.

In Zhao Ji’s lifetime, her happiest days weren’t as queen or queen dowager, but rather her years as a songstress in Zhao.

Though lacking precious robes and rare ornaments, she could enjoy many men’s pursuing and admiring gazes.

Zhao Ji’s smile deepened. She never doubted her charm. Even imprisoned here ten years with aging appearance, sometimes looking in mirrors, she still felt herself incomparably beautiful. Those young girls—how could they have her mature, alluring charm and figure?

Thinking this, Zhao Ji couldn’t help walking two more steps toward that person.

“I cannot bear my lady trapped here, so devised a method to surely free my lady from this cage.”

Zhao Ji cried out softly but instead stopped her steps. She’d thought this person infiltrated Yong Palace only to share spring winds once with her, or spring winds several times. But unexpectedly, he actually wanted to rescue her from this place! Cage—he described it correctly. This enormous palace was the cage trapping her.

Breathing rapidly, Zhao Ji suddenly widened her eyes, staring intently at the man slowly emerging from darkness.

That person had a pair of eyes holding almost demonic charm. Just one look would make people deeply trapped.

The hall’s braziers seemed lit too vigorously. Zhao Ji felt an indescribable heat throughout her body.

That person stopped before Zhao Ji, reaching out to pull the pair of dragon-phoenix purple clam hairpins from her hands.

Zhao Ji offered no resistance, letting him easily pull away those priceless purple clam hairpins. Her breathing grew several degrees more rapid.

She slowly lowered her head, knowing from this angle, exposing her smooth, tender neck and weak, delicate posture was most irresistible to men.

That person incomparably gently inserted one purple clam hairpin from his hands into Zhao Ji’s bun, movements tender as treating life’s most precious thing.

Zhao Ji couldn’t remember how long since someone cherished and treated her so. Her heartbeat like drumming, that approaching masculine aura enveloped her entire body, nearly making her dizzy.

“I have here a feigned-death drug. Taking it can show poisoning signs, gradually improving after half a month, yet harmless to the body.” After inserting that phoenix-shaped purple clam hairpin properly, that person also bent his head, softly speaking beside Zhao Ji’s ear.

Though Zhao Ji was entranced by him, it was only momentarily. She quickly understood the meaning in the other’s words, immediately raising her head, eyes brightening.

She was a clever woman. But the first few years imprisoned, she resented her son for ruthlessly killing her lover and children, so wouldn’t lower her head to reconcile. Later years, the more she loathed, the more she lost composure. Actually, just seeing how everything she used in Yong Palace was complete, festivals observed with impeccable propriety, one knew her son still couldn’t let go of her.

She’d always viewed Zheng as a child, completely forgetting he was also a man. What harm in her bowing first?

Pretending illness wouldn’t easily fool anyone. If exposed, instead Zheng would despise her more. Making herself truly ill felt somewhat dangerous—what if the Imperial Physician Director’s medical skills were poor? Wouldn’t she lose more than gain? But this person’s provided method was most secure.

At minimum, she could see Zheng once more. Just seeing Zheng brought hope.

She’d had enough of this life, simply couldn’t endure one more moment.

That person didn’t insert the other dragon-shaped purple clam hairpin in Zhao Ji’s bun but held it in hand, playing with it repeatedly, as if hinting at something.

But Zhao Ji’s imagination ran wild, mouth dry and tongue parched.

“The King of Qin returns to Xianyang tomorrow. My lady should decide swiftly.” That person walked to the nearest desk, picked up a jar of osmanthus wine, slapped open the sealing clay, pouring fragrant wine liquid into a nearby square sky gu.

Zhao Ji smiled watching the other’s actions without voicing objection.

This square sky gu—she’d already learned from palace maids it was sent by her good grandson Fu Su. Using this square sky gu to drink “poisoned wine,” if exposed, the implications grew even greater. But she understood—the greater the implications, the more thoughts and concerns Zheng would have. She could better take advantage of chaos to return from Yong Palace to Xianyang. So she only regretfully smiled, “Truly troubling the eldest prince.”

“Tsk, does my lady think the eldest prince sent this gu from pure goodwill?” That person sneered contemptuously. “The Master said: Gu is not gu. Gu indeed! Gu indeed!”

Zhao Ji’s expression immediately changed. In her youth, she’d met self-proclaimed erudite noble gentlemen. Later following Yiren, to have more time together, she’d also begged him to teach her classics and histories. What “gu is not gu” darkly implied—naturally with one hint she remembered.

Like having her fig leaf publicly stripped away, Zhao Ji’s cheeks immediately flushed completely red. She naturally knew she’d gone too far in the Lao Ai matter. But compared to previously famous Queen Dowager Xuan of Qin, she fell far short! Moreover, no matter how dissolute she was, it wasn’t a junior’s place to criticize!

Staring at the clear wine liquid in the square sky gu sufficient to reflect her beautiful countenance, Zhao Ji momentarily angered, wanted to drink it all without thinking.

But that person drew back the square sky gu, slowly raised his hand, deeply gazing at Zhao Ji, first drinking a mouthful himself.

Zhao Ji’s heart and spirit both trembled under those dark pupils’ gaze, simultaneously understanding the other feared she distrusted the drug’s efficacy, testing it himself.

This deep affection directly made long-starved Zhao Ji feel she’d completely melt. She wasn’t without vigilance, but if the other wanted harming her, no need for such effort. Moreover, she had extreme confidence in her charm. Even after ten years of seclusion, Zhao Ji felt her allure remained undiminished from years past.

When the other passed over the square sky gu after drinking one mouthful, Zhao Ji received it with both hands, specially turning the vessel body to slowly press her red lips where the other just drank.

Clear wine liquid briefly circulated on lips and tongue, then flowed straight down her throat into her abdomen, like an evil fire burning all the way down.

“Clang!” The square sky gu smashed on the ground. The heavy vessel body rolled several circles before finally stopping.

Zhao Ji’s body softened, directly collapsing to the ground, mouth slowly overflowing with deep black fresh blood.

“Foolish woman.”

That person elegantly pulled out a handkerchief, spat out poisoned wine held in his mouth, ate a pill, brushed non-existent dust from his sleeves. He’d originally wanted to bend down and remove that phoenix-shaped purple clam hairpin from Zhao Ji’s head, but hearing maidservants’ footsteps coming to investigate the earlier noise, he could only frown and conceal his form into darkness.