One and Only

Chapter 12: Interlude - The Beauty's Bones

She still remembered the day she became his disciple—a day of blazing sunshine.

Among the Qinghe Cui clan of her generation, she was the only surviving girl from the main lineage; the others had mostly perished in infancy. Due to the family's rising influence, she had been betrothed to the Crown Prince while still in her mother's womb. According to the whispers of her childhood nursemaids, had she been born a boy, she would have been secretly replaced with a girl—all to secure the position of the future empress.

Fortunately, she was a girl.

Yet unfortunately, this girl was born mute.

Thus, she was sent to become the disciple of the Prince of Nan Chen, the youngest uncle of the Crown Prince, who commanded an army of seven hundred thousand and was the most feared figure by the Empress Dowager. He was not her biological son. Her mother had explained that this arrangement would provide her with a powerful protector while also allowing her, through their master-disciple relationship, to later help the Crown Prince win over this uncle.

Two birds with one stone.

A single arrow to hit two targets.

She only half-understood the intricacies of these political maneuvers, but the memory of that day—when her master had merely raised a hand, and the entire army knelt in unison—filled her with awe. Had she not glimpsed him that day, she might have imagined the Prince of Nan Chen as a man in his thirties, for only someone of that age could have amassed such military glory and earned the imperial family's wariness.

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Shi Yi performed the formal rites of apprenticeship with meticulous precision. Taking the teacup handed to her by an attendant, she clasped it tightly with both small hands and stepped forward toward the young man seated at the center.

The water in the cup trembled slightly, rippling in delicate waves.

She dared not let her focus waver with each step until she stood before Zhou Shengchen, respectfully raising the teacup above her head.

She thought that any other disciple would have dutifully uttered, "Master, please accept this tea," but she could only remain silent, her sole task being to hold the cup steady. Soon, a hand took the cup from her, while another lifted it to take a sip. "Shi Yi, are you called 'Eleventh' at home?" Shi Yi raised her head, her bright eyes meeting his, and nodded gently.

"Coincidentally, I already have ten disciples. Shall I call you 'Eleventh' as well?"

He did not refer to himself as "your master," but simply as "I."

Shi Yi was momentarily taken aback and couldn't help glancing toward her mother in the distance.

Only after her mother nodded did she give another slight nod in return. She thought to herself, What a strange master—and a strange prince.

Years later, she could still recall that day with perfect clarity. He had worn a jade-green robe, his eyes carrying a hint of a smile, like a ray of warm sunlight piercing through an overcast sky. The Prince of Nan Chen, renowned from youth for his military exploits yet kind to every disciple and soldier under his command, became her master from that day onward—unchanged for the rest of her life.

As the future Crown Princess, she was different from the other disciples. Within the prince's residence, she had her own private courtyard and personal maids. For the first two years, this isolation made her the target of subtle exclusion. Though none dared act openly against her due to her status, they treated her with cold indifference, as if she were a stranger. She paid it little mind, for it was this very status that earned her the master's favor. Often, she was allowed to accompany him alone in his study, and even granted access to the forbidden library tower of the residence.

Later, under the master's notice and instruction, her senior brothers and sisters gradually began to accept her. Unable to speak, she always smiled—a smile that warmed everyone around her. Though her looks were unremarkable, her kindness made her beloved.However, her master still only allowed her to visit the library tower. Some senior brothers couldn't resist bringing paper and brushes to ask her what treasures were hidden there that made it a forbidden place in the prince's residence. Each time, she would shake her head with a smile, refusing to write anything, her gaze occasionally flickering.

The tower had only three floors, perpetually filled with the fragrance of pine and bamboo. When no lamps were lit, the light was very dim. Her first visit had also been a secret intrusion. Shortly after arriving at the prince's residence, enemy forces from a neighboring state launched a large-scale invasion at the border. Her master led troops to the front, and she didn't know a single other person. So, in the library tower, she had covered an entire wall with poems she had memorized since childhood under her mother's guidance.

She didn't fully understand the meaning of the poems, but she could write them fluently.

By the time Zhou Shengchen returned, she had already filled two walls of the library tower with her writing.

One late night, when the maids couldn't find her, they had no choice but to secretly seek Zhou Shengchen's help. The disappearance of a daughter from the prestigious Qinghe Cui family at night would bring shame upon the entire household if word got out. The maids, unable to make decisions, were at a loss. Zhou Shengchen searched the entire residence alone until he reached the top floor of the library tower, where he found the little girl who had obediently served him tea during the apprenticeship ceremony now writing Sima Xiangru's "Rhapsody of Shanglin" on the wall.

The writing flowed effortlessly, not a single character out of place.

Yet she had gotten stuck precisely on the line describing romantic affection: "Long eyebrows arched gracefully, sidelong glances soft and tender."

Flustered, she tightly clutched the brush as she climbed down from the bamboo chair. She didn't even dare to look up at her master's amused expression in the moonlight. "Forgot the next line?" Zhou Shengchen walked over, kneeling on one knee as he gently asked her.

Shiyi pressed her lips together, somewhat unwilling but still nodding silently.

Suddenly, her master reached out and wiped away the ink stains on her face.

His fingertips were slightly rough, not as soft as her mother's. Yet they were just as warm, just as gentle.

He chuckled: "The next line is: 'Her beauty enthralls his soul, his heart delights beside her.'"

She looked up in sudden realization, beaming at her master. When she turned to climb back onto the bamboo chair, she felt herself lifted effortlessly as he picked her up from behind: "Go ahead and write, I'll hold you." She nodded, both nervous and delighted, resulting in these eight characters looking quite different from the rest.

When she wanted to continue writing, her master had already set her down: "Time for bed. You can finish the rest when your studies are complete."

Thus, in the library tower remained her unfinished poem.

In her heart, she even considered it their secret.

Only when she grew older did she come to understand the true meaning of these lines.

The woman offers her beauty, the man gives his soul; mutual affection, hearts inclined to each other.

Whenever her master left the residence—sometimes for half a month, other times up to three months—she would secretly visit the library tower. Sometimes she would open the windows in the afternoon, letting in the wind—restless in summer, icy in winter. With wind came sound—whether the rustling through rows of bookshelves or the flipping of pages.

At first, being short, she always stood on a bamboo chair. Later, as she grew taller, she no longer needed it.

Without her saying anything, Zhou Shengchen would always find her here, then measure her height against a particular pillar to see how much she'd grown during his absence. Whenever she saw him appear unexpectedly, she would be overjoyed. Unable to express it, she would carefully hook her index finger around his little finger, swinging their hands together, unwilling to let go."Shi Yi," he would always say to her, kneeling on one knee with tenderness, "You look most beautiful when you smile. Smile often, alright?" She smiled, her lips curving upward.

Days turned to months, months to years.

Though not proficient in all the arts of music, chess, calligraphy, and painting, she had a particular fondness for chess and painting.

The former allowed her to pass time with her master in the library, while the latter let her secretly sketch his likeness while he attended to official duties. She dared not paint him openly, so she hid his eyes, his noble bearing, his every expression—whether asleep, weary, or enraged by battle—within landscapes of flowers and mountains.

Only she could see them. Only she understood.

Confined within the Wang residence, she lacked the worldly experience of her senior disciples. During their once-every-ten-days shared dinners, she would listen as her martial brothers, who had followed their master into battle, animatedly recounted how he had led the charge, sword pointed at the enemy. Her senior sisters, meanwhile, would describe the master’s reputation as it circulated among the common folk.

"Shi Yi, don’t you think our master is exceptionally handsome?"

She paused, thought for a moment, then nodded faintly.

If her master wasn’t considered handsome, then no one in this world could be.

"Have you heard of the 'Beauty’s Bone'?" whispered the youngest senior sister, leaning against her shoulder. "A Beauty’s Bone is rare in this world. Some have the bone but lack the beauty; others have the beauty but lack the bone. But the Prince of Nan Chen is the only one in this world who possesses both. The people say it’s even rarer than the Emperor’s Bone."

The sister spoke softly, and by the end, her words bordered on treason.

"The Prince of Nan Chen commands thousands of retainers and an army of seven hundred thousand. With his illustrious military achievements, he should have long carved out his own territory, establishing a realm of peace and order."

Shi Yi’s gaze flickered.

She knew her sister had drunk too much, forgetting that this silent junior sister was none other than the Crown Princess—a figure meant to align with the imperial family and secure the Prince of Nan Chen’s loyalty.

Unease settled in her heart. After dinner, she stole back to the library, only to find her master standing by the window in the dark, lost in thought. Peering through the gaps in the wooden shelves, she watched him from afar, recalling her sister’s words. "Beauty’s Bone"—though the phrase sounded exquisite, it was also an invisible shackle.

Weary from watching, she sat down and drifted into sleep.

When she awoke, dawn had begun to break, and her master was gone. Only his robe remained draped over her, cold to the touch, suggesting he had left long ago. It was the first time she had fallen asleep here without him carrying her downstairs.

Shi Yi’s fingers traced the edge of the robe’s sleeve, drawing a slow circle.

Just this simple act made her cheeks burn. Years ago, she could only recite phrases like "long brows arched gracefully, eyes glancing softly." It was he who taught her the meaning of "entranced by beauty, heart swayed by love."

Now, she truly was entranced, her heart utterly bewitched.

Late that night, she took up her brush and wrote a letter, pleading with her mother to annul the marriage.

Her mother’s reply made no mention of the request, instead recounting rumors from the streets.

Rumors that the Prince of Nan Chen and the Crown Princess had engaged in an illicit affair, disregarding their master-disciple bond and all moral principles. Rumors that the Prince of Nan Chen intended to raise an army and claim the throne for himself. Rumors that the noble Qinghe Cui clan had allied with the Prince’s household, offering both beauty and power in exchange for a divided empire, elevating their lineage to royalty.

"My child, guard your words and actions carefully. The fate of Qinghe rests in your hands."She closed the letter, lifted the glass cover of the lamp, and burned the letter to ashes. The palace frequently issued imperial decrees extending goodwill, and the Crown Prince himself personally visited to reassure the Prince of Southern Chen in his capacity as heir apparent. The ruler and his subjects appeared harmonious, as if declaring to the world that the rumors were merely rumors—that the imperial family, the Southern Chen Wang clan, and the Qinghe Cui clan were bound by unshakable ties.

On her seventeenth birthday, following her mother's orders, she left the Southern Chen Prince's residence and departed Chang'an, the city where she had lived for ten years yet never seen its bustling streets.

That day, too, was bathed in brilliant sunshine.

Her master, rarely at leisure in the residence, reclined on a bamboo chair in the study. She remembered sunlight streaming through the window as she entered to bid farewell, casting dappled shadows upon him. Half in light, half in shadow, his eyes were clear as water when he lifted his head.

He gazed at her in silence.

Shiyi performed the formal bow of parting with perfect solemnity, kneeling on both knees, her forehead touching the stone floor. A teacher for a day is a father for life—this bow was her farewell to the decade of his care and guidance.

"The Empress Dowager has issued an edict for me to adopt you as my foster daughter. Shiyi, are you willing?"

She rose and shook her head lightly.

That bow had already severed their master-disciple bond. She did not wish to leave the residence still tied to him in such a way.

He smiled faintly. "Then this prince will defy the decree once."

Shiyi stepped closer, kneeling beside the bamboo chair. Looking carefully, she noticed the faint weariness between his brows. Unable to resist, she reached out to touch his face.

Just this once. After this, she would leave—leave Chang'an and return to the Qinghe Cui clan.

He noticed, lifting his eyes slightly to meet hers. Startled, she hesitated, unsure whether to withdraw her hand or boldly continue. After a brief silence, he leaned forward slightly, meeting her touch.

Her fingers trembled, yet stubbornly traced from his brows down to the bridge of his nose.

Every inch, felt slowly.

The bones of a beauty.

She wondered what was so extraordinary about these bones that even the royal family feared them, that the world sang praises of them.

"Beauty bewitches the soul"—so the saying went, where women offered beauty and men surrendered their souls. But how could her plain features ever "bewitch"... She quietly withdrew her hand. Yet he suddenly smiled and asked, "After ten years in Chang'an, have you never seen the real city?" Shiyi nodded, then after a pause, smiled regretfully.

"Let me show you."

She hesitated, thinking of her mother's letter, and shook her head uncertainly. Only when he ordered a veiled hat to conceal her entire face, leaving only her eyes visible, did he finally lead her out of the residence. Under the blazing sun, the streets buzzed with life as they rode together on a single horse. He pointed out each landmark, explaining their names and differences.

Where his long whip commanded was usually a battlefield of life and death.

But that day, it was only Chang'an's pavilions, taverns, and streets. He wore no princely robes; she hid her face. He was no longer her master, and she no longer his disciple. From afar, they appeared merely as a clear-eyed woman and the peerlessly graceful man holding her.

This was the Chang'an she had lived in for ten years.

The day she left the residence was also the day he led his troops to battle once more. After a decade of campaigns, the borders were secure, and neighboring nations trembled at his name. This battle was merely a warning to all quarters—no lives would be lost.

Or so she believed.Ten days later, she arrived at the ancestral home of the Qinghe Cui family, where she was personally instructed by the Crown Prince’s wet nurse in the rituals of the grand wedding. The wet nurse seemed to have heard of her various shortcomings and was harsh and critical, making things difficult at every turn. She remained silent, only noting down every crucial detail and ignoring the sarcastic remarks.

Until the border crisis erupted.

The Crown Prince personally led the troops to reinforce Xiao Nanchen Wang, and only then did she sense something amiss.

Xiao Nanchen Wang had never lost a battle since he first rode to war at sixteen. Wherever his sword pointed, rivers of blood would flow, and he would always return victorious. How could a Crown Prince, raised in the palace all his life, dare to lead reinforcements?

She had no one to ask, surrounded only by her father, brothers, and the imperial family.

She remembered those ten years in the prince’s residence, how Zhou Shengchen would personally carry her back to her room whenever she fell asleep, fearing she might catch cold. At the slightest sign of a chill, she would be given hot tea brewed with perilla leaves in his chambers. Yet upon returning home, even on snowy days, she had to walk barefoot on icy floors to learn how to properly ascend the bed and serve the sovereign.

Half a month later, her mother came to observe her repeatedly practicing the posture for sitting.

After a long silence, her mother finally handed her a slip of paper without a word.

The handwriting was sparse, hastily written, yet achingly familiar:

"In this life, I have never failed the world—only Eleven."

Standing barefoot on the stone floor, she listened as her mother recounted word by word what had happened three nights prior: how Xiao Nanchen Wang had rebelled on the battlefield, taken the Crown Prince hostage, and attempted to seize the throne. Fortunately, Eleven’s father and brothers had protected the Crown Prince, thwarting the plot. Xiao Nanchen Wang was sentenced to the "bone-scraping" punishment.

What was bone-scraping? Because he possessed the famed "bones of beauty," the Crown Prince insisted on stripping him of them before the eyes of the people as a warning.

Her mother’s gaze flickered. She stared straight at her, wide-eyed.

But when she opened her mouth, no words came out.

In this life, she had a tongue but could not speak. She couldn’t even ask how he had managed to leave this note behind.

Who had failed whom?

Eleven clutched the slip of paper, trembling uncontrollably. She recalled how, before leaving, she had traced his brows with her fingers, unwilling to forget even the smallest detail about him. Now, seeing this note, it was all that remained of him.

His words—"never failed the world"—clearly told her he had been framed.

Her father and brothers had betrayed him. The imperial family had betrayed him.

And how could she stand apart from it all?

Shi Yi carefully folded the note and tucked it into the front of her robe, close to her heart. Then she silently resumed practicing how to sit.

Eleven, in this life, have you ever wished to share a fate with someone?

She had long known the answer.

Zhou Shengchen, Xiao Nanchen Wang. A life of relentless warfare, unwavering loyalty, yet in his prime, burdened by fame, he was accused of treason. Fortunately, the Qinghe Cui family saw through his schemes. The prince was captured, and the Crown Prince, consumed by hatred, sentenced him to the bone-scraping punishment.

The torture lasted three full hours, yet not a single cry of pain escaped him. He refused to repent even in death.

Xiao Nanchen Wang never took a wife or had children, yet rumors of a secret affair with the Crown Prince’s consort persisted. Four days after his death, the consort perished. Some said she hanged herself from the ten-zhang-high tower of the prince’s residence; others claimed she leaped from the walls of Chang’an. The truth remained unclear. Only the consort’s handwritten copy of the entire "Rhapsody of Shanglin" in the prince’s library survived, passed down through generations as a poignant tale.

His glorious life, condensed into a few sparse words, was buried deep in history.

Twenty-six years of this life had already passed.Shi Yi leaned against the window, gazing at the road signs flashing past outside. She couldn't help but marvel at the beautiful weather—the cloudless azure sky that lifted her spirits. The taxi ride was smooth, and after getting out, the procedures went without a hitch. Yet unexpectedly, when she passed through the security checkpoint, the alarm blared loudly both times she walked through.

What was most frustrating was that the alarm next to hers was also blaring incessantly—some poor soul, just like her, had encountered an unreasonable security gate. "Miss, please remove your shoes. We need to check them again," the officer said. She nodded and sat down on a nearby bench. As she bent to take off her shoes, she caught sight of the man next to her—his tall, straight-backed figure.

He was retrieving his laptop when she noticed him.

On the other side of the security gate, the line stretched endlessly.

But here, only the two of them were being inspected.

"Mr. Zhou Shengchen?" The officer at the checkpoint picked up the passport he had left behind. "You forgot this."

"Thank you," he replied, turning around.

He noticed her gaze and looked up.

In that brief moment of eye contact, all the noise and chaos around them faded away. Nothing else mattered anymore. Shi Yi stared at him, unable to look away. She wanted to laugh, wanted to cry, but no words came—not even a single syllable.

You came after all.

Zhou Shengchen, you came after all.

(End of Chapter)