The weather after a snowfall, when the sky first clears, is the most bitterly cold and unbearable. In the height of summer, the young eunuchs would pour ice water into the hollow layers beneath the palace floor tiles every four hours to keep the halls cool and refreshing. Now that winter had arrived, they had switched to hot water. Today, to welcome the visit of the envoy Ponānāja from Nihwara, several exquisitely crafted charcoal stoves had been intentionally added to the hall, filling the space with a warmth akin to spring.
The young eunuch could already feel a trickle of hot sweat meandering down the back of his neck, yet Ponānāja still clutched his hand warmer tightly, his face ashen as if coated with a layer of frost. "If your esteemed sovereign does not deign to speak with me, he could have straightforwardly refused to grant an audience. To summon me first and then subject me to such neglect—is it because you look down on Nihwara for being small and weak?" Nihwara, with its mild climate and vast territory, produced three harvests of beans and wheat a year, and neighboring states like Tuhulu and Xifu paid tribute to it. For the envoy to call his country "small and weak" was already bordering on sarcasm. The young eunuch felt his sweat instantly turn to ice. For the past half-hour, he had been treading carefully, afraid of causing a diplomatic incident with a misstep, and now it seemed he could no longer manage the situation. Just as his anxiety peaked, he suddenly heard footsteps from behind the jade screen of the throne and immediately brightened with relief.
Ponānāja’s anger also subsided slightly as he rose to straighten his robes and headdress.
However, the figure emerging from behind the screen caused the Chief Receptionist accompanying the envoy to instantly pale. What Ponānāja saw was a man of noble bearing and dignified expression. Though dressed in eunuch attire, he commanded involuntary respect and attention. The Chief Receptionist, however, fixed his gaze unwaveringly on the waist token the man wore. It was an opulent piece made of marrow jade with peacock motifs, adorned with gold and purple tassels—clearly the rank of a first-tier minister. Such an honor among eunuchs was unparalleled.
During the previous day’s winter hunt, Fang Zhu, the Chief of the Phoenix Court in the inner palace, had made his first public appearance before the court officials in fourteen years. This legendary and powerful inner court official had been wrapped in a heavy sable coat, his face mostly obscured by a wind hood. Even when he had removed the coat briefly during the eagle hunt, it had only been for a moment. Only now did the Chief Receptionist get a clear look at the face of this influential figure. The air was fragrant with a blend of storax and frankincense from the finely crafted charcoal in the nearby bronze stove, and the warm heat radiating from the azure floor tiles hinted at the breath of spring. Yet, an uncontrollable chill crept up the Chief Receptionist’s spine. Nearing sixty, he had seen that valiant youth who once closely followed Zhong Xu on several occasions during the reign of Emperor Xiu—the eldest son of the former Duke of Qinghai.
Fang Zhu clasped his hands in salute and said, "His Majesty will arrive shortly." The fresh wound on the back of his right hand, visible beneath the sleeve of his plain blue-green satin robe, was particularly striking.
"No need, I am already here," a clear, resonant voice, like the chime of bells, came from behind the screen.
The visit of the Nihwara envoy had not been widely publicized, and the ceremony for the audience had been kept to a minimum. As it was not a formal occasion, Emperor Xi wore everyday attire, though to show respect, he had chosen a robe embroidered with the twelve imperial symbols and coiling dragons amid standing water patterns. His retinue consisted of only twelve palace maids and twelve inner court officials, with one young military officer following closely by his side, standing out conspicuously among the crowd. This youth had deep, penetrating eyes and a slender waist, but his expression was stern and cold, starkly at odds with his tender years.This Emperor of Dazheng had already indulged in frivolity and extravagance for fourteen years. Yet the nation was so vast and intricate that even left unattended, it could manage itself and sustain for many years. Various taxes and tributes increased annually, as if a musician gradually tightened silk strings to test how high a pitch the instrument could produce—Emperor Xu mischievously probed the limits of the common people’s endurance.
Zhongzhou was rich in gold veins and refined in smelting, yet the market mostly circulated silver and copper. The majority of gold was stored away in the national treasury, hidden from the light of day. Even so, seven or eight out of every ten ounces of gold in the world still originated from Dazheng. In the thirteenth year of Tianxiang, the silver delivered by local governments to the treasury finally had nowhere to be stored, so it was all exchanged for gold with southern nations, causing the price of gold to soar and remain high. Merchants from the Western Continent flocked to the imperial capital via the ports of Leizhou, carrying immense amounts of gold, earning them the name "gold guests" among the Eastern Continent people. Despite neighboring countries setting up numerous checkpoints at the harbors, gold uncontrollably flowed into Dazheng.
This summer, even the gold in Dazheng’s treasury had no room left. The Director of the Treasury submitted a memorial requesting the expansion of storage facilities. Emperor Xu glanced at it briefly and, with a vermilion brush, decreed that all taxes would be exempted for the next ten years. He ordered half of the treasury’s wealth to be withdrawn for the construction of embankments and public granaries across the land. The Director of the Treasury fainted on the spot during court. Emperor Xu laughed and said, "Such pettiness. Hoarding without spending is the way of a miser." In just the latter half of July, the amount of gold flowing out of the treasury reached one-third of the gold circulating domestically. In the first few days, neighboring countries were relieved, thinking the price of gold would soon return to normal. Unexpectedly, the price of gold quickly fell below the parity of fifty taels of silver to one tael of gold from the thirteenth year of Tianxiang and continued to plummet relentlessly. The gold that neighboring countries had just repatriated to their treasuries suddenly plummeted in value, with the market even witnessing the absurdity of twenty-seven taels of silver for one tael of gold. Over a dozen countries in the Western Continent and the Southern Border thus lost nearly half of their wealth, causing public unrest, with men, women, and children alike voicing their indignation in street discussions.
At that time, Western gold guests were still arriving in the capital in an endless stream. Those who received the news early turned back midway, while those who had already reached the imperial capital could not bear to sell their gold, acquired at high prices, at a loss. Instead, they purchased houses and servants in the capital, settling down to await a rebound in gold prices. However, many Westerners were eager to offload their gold, and Eastern merchants took the opportunity to drive prices down drastically, causing them significant losses. Most of those desperate to sell were speculators who had mortgaged their homes or taken out usurious loans in their homelands to buy gold for sale in the Eastern Continent. Yet the gold they had painstakingly safeguarded along the way had now fallen to an unprecedented low value. Facing the inability to repay their debts on time, they fell into utter despair. For months, the streets of the imperial capital were filled with Western gold guests sitting alone, drowning their sorrows in drink, and many committed suicide. Envoys from various countries had already gathered the families of the deceased, preparing to set out for Tianqi.
Countries in the Western Continent were still in the depths of winter, making immediate travel inconvenient. Nihualuo, located in the south, sent its envoys earliest, ostensibly to handle burial and expatriate affairs and to have an audience with Emperor Xu, but in reality, there was a subtle undertone of coming to demand an explanation.
Emperor Xu wore a cold, restrained smile as he watched Bonanaje deliver an impassioned speech, remaining silent throughout.The minister of rites trembled from within his court robes. How had the once taciturn, sharp, and resolute young Prince Xu grown into such a terrifying figure? Emperor Xu had no interest in invading neighboring countries, nor had there been any rumors of military or grain preparations. Yet, he plundered other nations not for territorial expansion but as if playing a game—a game where the world was his arena, the common people his crickets, and the national treasury his wager. What an extravagant game it was! And the one holding the grass stalk, even at the height of his amusement, did not laugh heartily but silently savored the turmoil within the arena.
"Lord Bonanaje, I have heard that in your country, the merfolk are revered as guardians of the sea, a symbol of unparalleled auspiciousness, much like the legendary dragons in our own land. Is this true?" The emperor's voice, clear as the chime of crystal, echoed faintly in the hall.
Bonanaje had not expected Emperor Xu, after such a prolonged silence, to ask such a question. Bewildered, he could only reply simply, "Yes." "Have you ever seen a mermaid?" "No." "Then, when the envoys from various countries gather in Tianqi this spring, I invite you to the palace to admire the merfolk together." Bonanaje’s hand warmer clattered loudly, and he nearly rose to his feet. "Merfolk are divine beings, encountered by chance, not to be confined within palace walls!" Haishi’s hand, hanging at her side, clenched silently, the pain in her uninjured right palm throbbing.
Emperor Xu smiled without a word, casting a glance at the man standing beside him.
Fang Zhu nodded slightly, then turned his gaze to Bonanaje. His expression was calm, but his words carried immense authority. "Welcoming such auspicious beings into the imperial palace is a sign of our nation’s prosperity. Are you questioning the fortune of our empire?" Bonanaje, at a loss for words and flushed with anger, could only clasp his hands in frustration and reply, "Not at all. I will surely come to offer my congratulations at that time." Fang Zhu glanced sideways, noticing Haishi watching him from the other side of the throne. It was as if the last pillar supporting a towering pagoda had been severed—something in her eyes was collapsing with a deafening crash.
Emperor Xu’s amused gaze swept over Bonanaje before settling back on Haishi.
For the next half-month, Emperor Xu did not visit Fengwu Palace.
It was widely known in the court that Emperor Xu doted on the newly appointed Consort Chun, Lady Fang. Fengwu Palace, originally the residence of the empress dowager, was as magnificent as the Golden City Palace and had later been bestowed upon Princess Yanling. After the princess’s incident, the palace stood empty for ten years before being granted to Consort Chun, also known as Lady Pearl.
The desolate sound of the night watchman’s clapper echoed from the corner tower—the hour of Hanzheng had passed.
A palace maid announced outside the door that the emperor would be staying alone in the Golden City Palace that night, and the consorts could remove their evening makeup.
The door opened a crack, and Haishi shook her head. The maid who had come to attend to her had no choice but to retreat, still holding the agate basin.
The spacious palace stood empty and silent, with mother-of-pearl and jewels glimmering faintly under the lamplight.Haishi sat upright on the couch, a turquoise chain wrapped around her fingers, from which hung an enameled incense ball with intricate filigree. She raised her hand, letting the incense ball dangle before her eyes, then extended another finger and gave it a gentle flick. The hollow ball spun swiftly like a miniature armillary sphere, yet the incense cups within its three concentric layers never tipped over. The incense burning inside was ambergris, still carrying the lingering intensity of mirages and illusory towers. The faint emerald seal-script smoke that drifted from the ball remained suspended in the air, refusing to dissipitate. She pulled a golden hairpin from her hair and slowly pierced through the tendrils of smoke, cleaving the emerald haze into two strands, then four, then eight, until it shattered into fragments. With a soft blow from her lips, it scattered like a handful of illusory feathers, vanishing without a trace.
The evening wind rustled against the window frames. Haishi sighed silently, finally setting aside the incense ball and rising to walk toward the window, her silhouette cast upon the paper pane, adorned with elaborate hair ornaments and jewelry.
She reached out and lifted the gauze curtain.
The forbidden city at night loomed in shadowy forms, vast and silent. Over the past six hundred years, how many beauties had cast their shadows upon this window, only to fall ill, age, return to dust, and fade away into the distant flow of time?
The silhouette of the beauty paused on the window, her eyelashes fluttering like butterflies, before she finally pushed the window open.
Wind chimes tinkled under the eaves. The figure clad in black, hanging upside down, made no attempt to evade her gaze, instead meeting Haishi’s eyes openly.
“How long do you intend to keep watch?” Haishi asked with a faint, bitter smile.
“Until the young master stops running away,” Xiaozi replied.
Young master? The woman in palace attire smiled even more bitterly at the corners of her lips. What trace of a young master remained in her now? Her hair was styled in twin coiled buns, adorned with blooming peonies on either side; her slender eyebrows arched gracefully, and a teardrop-shaped pearl, inlaid with seven treasures, dangled from the center of her forehead. Her lips were tinted with rouge, and she wore an ivory brocade robe embroidered with peacock patterns, beneath which a faint red mark was barely visible at the collar.
She sighed softly. “Go back and tell that person: as long as he demands that I hunt down the one who saved my life, I will keep running. Even if you force me to the edge of the sea with a blade, once I enter the water, there is nothing you can do.”
“Young master, you are aware that over the past two years, many neighboring nations have grown discontent over the gold issue. Apart from Jaman and Huku, who are currently at war and too preoccupied to intervene, most of the others have already begun taking covert actions,” Xiaozi murmured softly. From Xiaozi’s words, Haishi could almost hear that person’s voice overlapping coldly in the background—a voice pure and steady, the old scar at the corner of his lips surely lifting slightly into a faint smile. “The southern kingdoms regard the merfolk as guardian deities of maritime trade. If our nation were to have a merfolk guardian, it would serve as a deterrent. The rebellion of Prince Yi was suppressed less than twenty years ago. Now, with the chaos in civilian gold coin calculations, just a few months of external conflict or internal strife could lead to the collapse of the state and untold suffering for the people. Would the young master truly bear the guilt of condemning sixty million lives?”
“You are mistaken.” Haishi lifted her head proudly, casting a cold, disdainful glance at Xiaozi, as though addressing the phantom behind him. “Why deceive ourselves? Dragging sixty million people into the abyss—that can only be the emperor’s crime.”
Xiaozi faltered for a moment but quickly composed himself. “Your esteemed mother, the old madam, is likely already on her way to the capital. Once the young master retrieves the merfolk, you may reunite.”
“You—how dare you!” Haishi was seized with shock and fury. Her hand darted to her waist, but she found no familiar long sword there."The old lady must be overjoyed to hear that the young master has become the second husband in a wealthy family in the capital and has invited her to come to the capital to live out her years in comfort. I imagine she’s eager to see you as soon as possible." After saying this, Xiaozi clasped his hands in a salute while hanging upside down, then leaned back, his hands gripping the eaves as he silently ascended to the rooftop. With a few leaps, he vanished into the vast night.
Haishi stood motionless in place, the gauze curtains at the window fluttering in the biting winter wind.
The next morning, when the court ladies entered to assist with dressing, they found the chamber empty. Gold beads, pearl necklaces, and the white brocade robe embroidered with pheasants lay scattered and discarded on the floor. Two fully bloomed branch peonies, after a night of northern wind, had already withered and lost their color.
Duhan, younger brother of Duoluo, the Left Puduon King of Huku. Allied with the Right Puduon tribe and the Jiaman Kingdom, he usurped the throne of the Left Puduon. Duoluo died in battle. One-third of the Left Puduon tribe's pastures and livestock were taken by the Right Puduon.
—From the "Cabinet Archives: Memorials and Reports, Tianxiang Volume, Fifteenth Year, First Month" Before the Beginning of Spring, envoys from various southwestern nations gathered in Hanzhou and were escorted by troops dispatched from Huangquan Pass to the imperial capital. Along the way, they brought news of the turmoil in Huku. Duoluo, the Left Puduon King, had been determined to annex Jiaman but faced fierce resistance from the Jiaman people. His long-standing rival, E'erji, the Right Puduon King, married two of his daughters to Duoluo’s younger brother, Duhan, and sent troops to support Duhan in usurping the throne. The Left Puduon tribe, caught between two fronts, suffered repeated defeats. Duhan personally killed Duoluo and seized the throne of the Left Puduon.
"The border is peaceful. Every border report says the border is peaceful. From the Winter Solstice to the Beginning of Spring, there has been no movement at the border. The Huku people did not feign an attack on Huangquan Pass as agreed, nor was there even the slightest sign of cavalry gathering." Prince Chang’s voice was low, but the veins at his temples bulged faintly. "Only this one report is not about border peace—it’s the news of Duoluo’s death." A satin-covered memorial was slapped down in front of Fu Yi. "Without Duoluo’s cooperation in diverting forces at Huangquan Pass, the troops we have are insufficient to deal with the Imperial Guard and the Metropolitan Army."
"Your Highness," Fu Yi frowned almost imperceptibly, "the general escorting the envoys to the capital this time is my former comrade from Huangquan Pass. Most of the soldiers are also my old subordinates. Combined with the more than twenty thousand men under my direct command in the Metropolitan Camp, we have enough if used wisely. Now that both of Fangzhu’s adopted children have lost their military authority, the Imperial Guard is no longer a threat. Your Highness might consider finding an excuse to leave the capital. Allow your subordinate to clean up the situation here, saving much trouble and gossip."
"What is the name of the general escorting the envoys? Are you confident in him?" Prince Chang’s narrowed eyes gleamed sharply."That man is named Zhang Chengqian, of common birth, and is an old subordinate of Guo Zhixing." "Very well. The fishermen came last night." "Oh?" Fu Yi's expression shifted slightly. The Prince of Chang had always privately referred to the Zhunian people as "fishermen," a term laden with deep disdain. In his youth, he had been sent to Zhunian as a hostage, where he endured cold treatment. It was remarkable how a boy of eleven, cautious and composed, sharp-witted and studious, managed to protect himself within the palace. At thirteen, when Prince Yi rebelled and Prince Fen Yang, the maternal uncle of Ji Chang, joined the uprising, Ji Chang dispatched a letter from Zhunian to Zhong Xu, fervently declaring his unwavering loyalty. He even sold off gold and pearls to purchase provisions for Hanzhou, all while enduring the mockery and exploitation of Zhunian officials. Only as Zhong Xu's influence grew and victory seemed assured did the Zhunian people begin to treat Ji Chang with warmth. Pu Youma, the Zhunian envoy who had once looked down on the young prince, seized the opportunity to curry favor, presenting him with a fine silk fan and requesting a calligraphic inscription. Ji Chang did not refuse, wielding the brush with flair. Pu Youma proudly mounted the fan and showed it off everywhere. Most Zhunians, unfamiliar with Eastern Land script, offered perfunctory praise, but the five thousand Imperial Guards accompanying them could not help but chuckle inwardly—the four characters Ji Chang had inscribed were "arrogant before, obsequious after," executed with bold, confident strokes, full of vigor.
After Emperor Xu ascended the throne, the Prince of Chang requested to return to Da Zheng. Zhunian not only permitted his departure immediately but also gifted him a wealth of treasures and offered Princess Tilan in marriage. At twenty-one, the Prince of Chang already understood the art of concealing his ambitions. He attributed all his achievements during the eight years of turmoil to Tang Qianzi, presenting himself as dissolute to evade scrutiny.
"I told them to tally all their conditions and add one more: kill Pu Youma, and after I ascend the throne, I will consider having the Da Zheng treasury buy back the gold," the Prince of Chang said with a lazy smile. "Pu Youma has lived to seventy—this deal is already a bargain for them." An attendant brought in a letter. The prince skimmed it quickly, his elegant brows suddenly lifting as he looked at Fu Yi. "News from the palace: Consort Chun has gone missing, and the Emperor has not issued an order to search for her."
The young man dipped his right fist into the seawater, a faint, phosphorescent glow seeping through his fingers. The act of uncurling his palm was so slow, as if he feared what lay within. When his hand finally lay fully open, the glowing object revealed two characters arranged in a vertical line.
Lang Huan.
The young man's eyes were cold and crystalline.More than half of the moon rose from the edge of the waves, its light tracing the winding coastline with flecks of white foam. The youth untied his sash and tossed it aside, then shed his blue cotton garments, revealing a sleek, gray sharkskin diving suit underneath. Step by step, he waded into the sea, sinking deeper with each movement as the cool, gentle water embraced him eagerly, inch by inch, until it closed over his head. Raising her head, Haishi saw her reflection mirrored in the water just two feet above, the shimmering moonlight in the ripples resembling scattered starlight. She could still breathe—the mark left by the mermaids in her childhood still held its magic. And so, she pressed on, venturing into the deeper, darker parts of the ocean until she entered a vast, warm current beneath the surface. Schools of rainbow trout and herring, migrating toward Penglai, swept past like flocks of migratory birds soaring over the tips of underwater forests. The current was as powerful as a gale, and with a slight push of her arms, she felt as if she could take flight. Haishi glanced at the small compass in the glass box hanging from her chest, then kicked off from the seabed, riding the ocean current as it carried her toward her destination.
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