On August 20th, 780, Li Luo, the Prince of Luoshui in Meishan, was defeated and died at Hanshui. On September 11th of the same year, his three sons and two daughters were executed at the Wutong Terrace in Meishan. Twenty-one of his most capable generals suffered the agony of being cut in half at the waist, with General Xu Su personally overseeing the executions. With the issuance of a single decree, dozens of wandering souls were left without masters.
That day, Mei Xiang entered from outside the hall, a few snow-white petals clinging to her clothes, her expression slightly dazed. Qiu Sui called out to her several times before she snapped out of it, murmuring distractedly, "I just heard that Consort Xu, the concubine of Prince Luo, has been found."
Consort Xu? Xu Peining, Xu Su's younger sister?
Qiu Sui quickly patted her chest and said, "Thank goodness she's been found. I heard that General Xu Su lost both his parents when he was young and only had this one sister to rely on. He dotes on her immensely. Now that he has rendered such great service to His Majesty, it would have been truly tragic if something had happened to Miss Xu."
Mei Xiang frowned slightly, her expression veiled as if by a faint haze. The thick, arm-sized candles cast a bright, flickering light, making her face appear somewhat pale. Lowering her voice like a young bird in a storm, her tone was both sharp and subdued, "I heard she was found on Mount Luofu, hanging from a withered tree there. Both of her legs had been carried off by wild wolves."
Qiu Sui let out a sharp "Ah!" and her face instantly turned pale.
Chu Qiao's heart suddenly grew cold, a chill seeping up from within, like the milky incense smoke from a burner, coiling and twisting languidly.
The moonlit night was icy, and from the distant Roufu Palace, the sounds of singing and dancing rose once more, accompanied by the flourishing melodies of strings and pipes. Madam Ziming had now become Consort Rou, the most powerful and highest-ranking woman among Li Ce's consorts. A few days prior, the Imperial Hospital had confirmed her pregnancy, and in two days, she would be leaving the palace to recuperate at the imperial estate.
The long night was boisterous yet deathly still, stretching on interminably.
Another half-month passed this way, summer giving way to autumn. After a few drizzling cold rains, the air turned icy and damp. The summer lotuses withered, and the Taiqing Pond was covered with dark lotus leaves. In the Jinwu Palace now, no one had the heart to channel warm springs to prolong the blooming season.
The southwest had experienced great turmoil, and Academy City, being close to Meishan, saw the scholar's inn that Chu Qiao had painstakingly managed destroyed in the war, leaving only ruins and broken walls. When Mei Xiang, Jingjing, and the others heard this, they couldn't help but feel sorrowful. Li Ce offered to rebuild it for her, but Chu Qiao had lost interest. After all, she wouldn't be staying in Ximeng for long.
Thus, Chu Qiao settled into the Jinwu Palace, day after day, watching the sunlight glide over the vermilion window frames, quietly awaiting the arrival of another day.
She seldom saw Li Ce. After the incident with Prince Luo, although the military strength of Biantang had suffered losses, the southwestern clans had been completely eradicated, leaving the national treasury full and the state thriving. Li Ce seemed to have undergone a change in temperament, becoming exceedingly busy. Even the singing and dancing in the rear palace had not been heard for a long time.
As autumn waned and light and shadow shifted, another two months slipped quietly by. One morning, Chu Qiao pushed open the window to find a light, pure snow falling outside. A few wutong trees beyond the window were coated with a white layer of frost. Having lived in the academy for so long, it had been ages since she had seen snow. Mei Xiang and the others were overjoyed at the sight, while Jingjing led a group of young palace maids outside to play, draped in bright red satin cloaks, looking charmingly innocent and adorable.Another letter from Zhuge Yue arrived. Over the past few months, due to the impact of the Biantang war, Li Ce had significantly reduced the pressure on Daxia's border, giving Zhao Yang a brief respite. Last month, under the pretext of military drills, Zhao Yang discreetly stationed the Southern Army at the Western Camp thirty li outside Zhenhuang City. At that time, Zhao Che happened to be away in the Northern Hu lands due to a snow disaster, leaving the capital unattended. Zhuge Yue decisively led five thousand Qinghai Imperial Guards to the Western Camp, confronting Zhao Yang for over three hours. Had Wei Shu Ye not arrived promptly, a major conflict might have erupted.
Yet in his letter, he made no mention of it. Chu Qiao only learned of the incident from Tie You, the guard. Recalling the peril of facing thirty thousand Southern troops with just five thousand men, she felt a chill run down her spine, fine beads of cold sweat forming.
Emperor Xia’s days were numbered. He had not attended court for over two months, and the struggle for imperial power in Daxia was intensifying. A single misstep could lead to ruin. In her spare time, Chu Qiao would visit the prayer hall to copy a few volumes of the Scripture of Peace and the Scripture of Orchid. It served to pass the time, bring her inner peace, and—most importantly—because there were people in her heart she wished to protect.
Incense smoke curled lazily in the prayer hall. Through the hazy tendrils, Chu Qiao gazed at the solemn statue of the Buddha and suddenly recalled the Empress of Great Tang, whom she had met only once. That afternoon, she had awoken from a nap to find the gentle woman quietly watching her. Calmly, the Empress had asked her to persuade Li Ce not to dismantle the prayer hall dedicated to the Buddha of Joy.
Back then, Li Ce was still the mischievous Crown Prince of Great Tang. Now, he was the Tang Emperor, who decided life and death with a laugh and commanded armies with a word.
Qiu Sui was now the head maid of Mihe Residence. Having grown up in the palace, the young girl was sharp-eyed and perceptive, able to discern the slightest changes. From time to time, she would look at Chu Qiao with a puzzled expression, frowning slightly as she whispered, "Seeing you this time, Miss, I feel there’s something more about you than before."
Chu Qiao raised an eyebrow slightly. "Oh? What more?"
Qiu Sui smiled softly, running a horn comb through Chu Qiao’s jet-black hair from top to bottom. Quietly, she said, "When you returned from Yanbei last time, you were like a withered lotus at summer’s end. Now, it feels as though winter has passed."
"Really?"
Chu Qiao tilted her head, her pale fingers threading through her thick hair. The face in the mirror resembled willow trees along a lakeshore after surviving the harsh winter—the sharpness in her eyes had faded, as if the decade of military campaigns were nothing but a fleeting illusion. Now, residing in Jinwu Palace, she waited with bated breath. Time flowed like water, finally granting her a few peaceful moments.
By year’s end, she encountered He Xiao.
In the biting winter wind, she draped herself in a silver-tipped fur cloak and passed by Baizhe Pavilion in Shanglin Garden with Mei Xiang when she coincidentally met He Xiao, who had just emerged from Yixin Hall.
He was now the Minister of War for Biantang’s Southern Camp, holding a third-rank official position and highly trusted by Li Ce. Even the inner palace had become a frequent place of visit for him.
This was their first reunion since Chu Qiao had left without a word years ago. Meeting so abruptly, both felt somewhat awkward. He Xiao’s lips moved as if he wanted to address her as "My Lord," but the words stuck in his throat. In a low voice, he finally said, "Miss Chu."
Dismissing the attendants and taking only Mei Xiang along, they ascended Baizhe Pavilion.
He Xiao wore a dark blue court robe, looking steady and handsome, his bearing tempered by the trials he had endured.Mei Xiang stood outside the pavilion as the wind picked up, lifting the hem of Chu Qiao’s cloak, light and ethereal like a wisp of smoke. She remained silent for a long time, standing against the wind. The pavilion was high, overlooking the drainage channel of Taiqing Pond, which had been fashioned into a flowing stream. The clear water rushed down with a splashing sound. He Xiao’s voice came from behind, calm and unruffled.
“The wind is strong here, and you are delicate. You should return early.”
“Isn’t the wind in Yanbei even stronger?”
Chu Qiao turned around, her expression serene, her eyes veiled with a shimmering light that made them inscrutable.
“He Xiao, are you blaming me?”
He Xiao lowered his head. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“Saying you wouldn’t dare means you do blame me.” Chu Qiao smiled bitterly, the curve of her lips fleeting. “Believe it or not, after all these years fighting side by side, I’ve always considered you my closest friend. My departure was not an abandonment of you.”
“I understand.”
He Xiao suddenly raised his head, his gaze as calm as ever, no longer carrying the fierce intensity of his battlefield days. He said quietly, “I have never blamed you. You were only thinking of us, arranging the best path forward. I understand all of that.”
This was the first time He Xiao had addressed Chu Qiao as an equal, using “you” and “I.” His eyes rested on her gently as he continued slowly, “Over the years, I’ve watched you step by step. I understand all the pain in your heart. Sometimes I think perhaps I was selfish back then. If I had realized it sooner, I would never have let circumstances force you into such a position. Even if the Southwest Garrison Commander were reduced to bandits and wiped out, you should never have had to bear that responsibility, opposing the King of Yan, leading to where we are now.”
Chu Qiao shook her head. She wanted to say that the conflict between her and Yan Xun was irreconcilable from the start. Even without the Southwest Garrison Commander, other reasons would have arisen. The issue would have erupted sooner or later—it was only a matter of time.
But before she could finish, He Xiao cut in, “After all, you were just a young woman. It’s just that, at the time, we all overlooked it.”
He looked up and smiled gently, like an elder regarding a younger generation. “His Majesty said that only by completely letting go of the past can you find true peace. I no longer address you as ‘my lord,’ not out of resentment or distance, but in the hope that you can lay down your burdens and live for yourself.”
Dewdrops clinging to the leaves fell with a soft splash, splattering onto Chu Qiao’s soft white embroidered shoes. Her brows furrowed slightly, and a wave of emotion rose in her heart—so poignant and bittersweet.
“Though Biantang is warm, the weather is chilly now. You should return early.”
With that, he stepped aside to let her pass, but Chu Qiao suddenly called out, “Brother He.”
He Xiao froze, his head snapping up to look at her.
Chu Qiao said quietly, “We’ve been through so much together over the years, time and again facing life and death. To me, you are not just a comrade but family.”
The rustling wind swept through the woods. He Xiao’s gaze trembled slightly. After a long pause, he still maintained his posture and took a quiet step back, saying solemnly, “I am about to take up my post in the southwest. Perhaps we will never meet again.”
So he already knew.Chu Qiao's fingertips were slightly cold as she watched He Xiao's silent figure, feeling a pang of sorrow lingering in her throat. She nodded quietly and said, "Take care of yourself," before turning to descend the pavilion.
After taking a few steps, she suddenly heard a voice softly calling from behind: "Xiao Qiao, have a safe journey."
She immediately turned back, only to see He Xiao still standing in the same posture, motionless. The wind rustled his robes, the dark cyan court attire embroidered with green sandalwood-colored blue sea cloud patterns. The dark cyan sash at his waist, now worn and tattered, remained the same belt he had worn back in the Xiuli Army days. He stood there silently, not even lifting his head, as if the words just spoken hadn't come from him.
Chu Qiao stood still for a moment before finally turning away and walking aimlessly in a random direction.
After several turns, Shanglin Garden disappeared from view entirely. When Chu Qiao looked up, she realized she had unintentionally arrived at Fulan Mountain outside Roufu Palace. Though called a mountain, it was merely an artificial rockery meticulously crafted from white jade, glowing with a translucent radiance that made it one of the great scenic wonders of Jinwu Palace. Yet, as Chu Qiao gazed at this pristine fake mountain, a coldness seeped into her heart, spreading like tentacled insects, ensnaring her in layer upon layer.
"Young lady?"
Mei Xiang called out with concern.
Chu Qiao didn't respond, her gaze slightly fixed as she looked at the wintersweet blossoms on the rockery, yet seeming to see right through them into some distant place.
"Young lady, everyone in this world has different thoughts and intentions, but you only have one heart—you can't possibly attend to everyone's feelings."
Mei Xiang's words echoed in her ears, but Chu Qiao seemed not to hear them clearly. The wind was so strong, and she suddenly felt a wave of sorrow.
"Commander He has followed you for so many years. Given time, he will surely understand. All banquets must eventually end—you shouldn't grieve too much."
Chu Qiao turned and suddenly reached out to embrace Mei Xiang's shoulders, whispering softly, "Mei Xiang, if you wish to go, then follow him."
Chu Qiao clearly felt Mei Xiang's body stiffen abruptly, her back straightening like a startled rabbit. After a long while, a pair of arms slowly encircled Chu Qiao's back, and Mei Xiang's voice murmured quietly by her ear: "I am reluctant to part with Commander He, but I am even more reluctant to part with you, young lady."
The afternoon sun cast a glaring whiteness upon the ground, the sky so high without a trace of clouds.
"Young lady, you needn't worry about others anymore. Young Master Zhuge may not be entirely good, but he is the only one in this world who is wholeheartedly devoted to you. For you, he would kill, set fires, and sacrifice himself to become a demon; he could also lay down his blade and instantly attain enlightenment. Such a person cannot be found again, even with a lantern."
Mei Xiang suddenly laughed: "As for Commander He, he will eventually come to terms with it, just like me. These things cannot be forced—each of us will have our own destiny."
The freedom of blue seas and skies was something she had yearned for many years.
She lifted her head, vaguely seeming to see that person's calm eyes. In the biting cold wind, amidst the turbulent court of Daxia, was he doing well? Another New Year had arrived in the blink of an eye. This year had been filled with repeated upheavals. Perhaps to dispel the desolate atmosphere after the great war, under the strong urging of the officials, Li Ce ordered an extravagant spring banquet to be lavishly prepared, sparing no expense.On the twenty-seventh day of the twelfth lunar month, Li Ce hosted a banquet for all officials in the Imperial Academy Hall, conducting the annual performance review. He lavishly praised those with outstanding political achievements this year and granted officials of the third rank and above the honor of dining in the same hall. He personally composed a "Poem of a Thousand Autumns," ordered the palace attendants to transcribe it, and presented a copy to each court minister.
The rear palace was also adorned with lanterns and decorations. Banquets stretched from Yixin Hall all the way to Shangqing Palace, with continuous colorful arches and countless lanterns. Silk ribbons and lantern decorations formed auspicious patterns such as "Eternal Life" and "Eternal Dynasty," pasted on vermilion walls and green tiles. The scene was resplendent and magnificent, with brocade lanterns and pervasive song and dance, creating an atmosphere of lavish splendor.
Li Ce invited her several times to join the banquet, but Chu Qiao disliked such ostentatious revelry and politely declined. Instead, she stayed in her own palace, leading the maids and servants in cleaning and preparations, hosting her own banquet, and arranging items for the New Year's Eve vigil.
On the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, one blue-cloth carriage after another entered the main gate of Jinwu Palace. After being announced, they made their way toward Mihe Residence. However, when the carriages arrived and box after box was unloaded, the entire rear palace was abuzz. All the maids and servants rushed to Mihe Residence to see what was happening, and even some impatient ladies hurried over as well.
There were twenty carriages and two hundred Nanmu chests of various sizes. When the chests were opened, everyone's eyes lit up, dazzled by the sight of pearls and jewels. Emeralds, peridot, rubies, cat's eye, white jade, Eastern pearls, brocade gauze, Suzhou embroidery silks, precious furs, antiques, calligraphy and paintings—almost every luxury one could imagine was gathered before their eyes. Moreover, there were also hairpins, necklaces, palace robes, jade shoes, and jewelry that girls adore, everything one could wish for. Premium flowers, intact corals over three zhang tall, rare orchids, screens and curtains inlaid with Eastern pearls, jade that illuminates the night, and some rare items from overseas, such as matches, telescopes, glass ornaments, simple clockwork bells, foreign women's dresses, and precious specialties from the western regions, along with medicinal herbs as valuable as gold, and so on.
What was even more amusing was that there were also several chests of crude local products that looked similar to sweet potatoes. Chu Qiao studied them for a long while before it dawned on her—these were the Qinghai native melons he had described in his letters. She brought one to her nose and sniffed, detecting a faint fragrance. A hazy sweetness suddenly welled up in her heart, and she felt that all the pearls and jades combined were not worth as much as these few ugly native melons.
It seemed the locals had gone to great lengths upon hearing that the King of Qinghai wanted these items. Not only were the melons exceptionally large, but each one was tied with a red thread and carefully wrapped in red festive cloth, creating a rather incongruous appearance.
A small letter was placed among the melons. She picked it up, her delicate white fingers untied the golden thread, and inside, she found a lengthy message written in an exceptionally lean and spirited script.
He was always like this—even in his letters, his tone was awkward. He would expound on everything from the weather to politics and then delve into the developmental trends of the local economy, as if it were a cordial meeting between two heads of state. Only at the very end would he cautiously remind her: "Be mindful of your doors and windows, and guard against villains before sleeping."
Once, when Li Ce saw Zhuge Yue's letter, he was so furious he nearly exploded, cursing and saying that Zhuge Yue was the true villain for slandering others behind their backs. At the time, Chu Qiao looked at the man who had secretly opened someone else's letter yet acted with righteous indignation and felt that neither of them was entirely wrong.Today's letter was rather brief. After a short opening, the ink seemed to thicken abruptly—likely because the writer had paused in deep thought, allowing the ink to dry before dipping the brush anew:
"Bound by duties, I cannot join you for the Spring Festival. When flowers bloom next spring, I shall fulfill my promise. Wait for me."
Amid the surrounding exclamations and chatter, Chu Qiao held the thin letter in her hand, yet felt only tranquility and warmth around her. The wind passed silently, swallows cried softly, flowers bloomed vividly, and leaves gleamed emerald. Though winter's chill lingered, her heart was filled with the serene brightness of spring.
That evening, Chu Qiao, along with Mei Xiang, Jingjing, Duoji, Ping An, and other palace maids like Qiu Sui, gathered at Mihe Residence. Chu Qiao personally cooked. Though her culinary skills were average, her modern cooking methods left everyone astonished. At first, they were somewhat reserved, but gradually they relaxed. With few men in the palace, Duoji’s gentle handsomeness stood out, while Ping An, sharp-tongued and witty, kept telling jokes that had the young maids roaring with laughter.
At midnight, fireworks suddenly lit up the sky outside. Chu Qiao and the palace staff rushed into the courtyard, standing beneath the osmanthus tree and gazing upward at the fiery trees and silver flowers filling the heavens. The vibrant colors splashed across their faces, painting them with exuberant joy.
Jingjing, Ping An, and the others led the young maids in setting off firecrackers. The crackling sounds echoed in their ears as Chu Qiao, covering her ears, was surrounded by the crowd. Her cheeks flushed, clad in a fluffy new padded jacket, she looked like a child who had yet to grow up.
How many years had it been since she arrived here? This was the happiest New Year she had ever spent.
Even though the one in her heart was not by her side, life remained peaceful and serene.
Outside, laughter and cheers continued unabated. Chu Qiao leaned over her desk and, with a few strokes, sketched two chibi cartoon characters—tiny bodies topped with oversized heads. One appeared lively and delicate, the other stern and awkward. The two little figures stood side by side on a high slope, staring blankly ahead with a touch of endearing foolishness. Before them stretched a vast grassland dotted with herds of cattle and sheep, and in the distance, a stretch of blue-green sea.
With utmost care, she wrote two words at the end of the letter: "Waiting for you."
No more reminders, no more inquiries. She thought, she would be utterly selfish this once, genuinely willful this once, and wholeheartedly trusting this once.
Setting down the letter, she threw on her cloak and hurried out to find Mei Xiang and the others. But as soon as she stepped out of the main hall, a shower of white petals rained down upon her, like a handful of snow, fluttering and scattering all over her.
Everyone burst into laughter, their voices piercing through the fiery trees, silver flowers, and the sky full of fireworks of Jinwu Palace, drifting and dissipating into the air. Winter in Biantang was always short—in the blink of an eye, it was already March.
A few days prior, news came from Huai Song: Prince Jinjiang of Huai Song, citing concerns over the Emperor of Song’s health, led a faction of officials supporting him to demand that the Imperial Hospital disclose the emperor’s condition. However, Nalan Hongye flatly refused, stirring up quite a commotion.
When Li Ce mentioned this, he faintly frowned and said lightly, "If there’s nothing wrong, why not silence those people?"
Chu Qiao did not respond. She had an inkling of what was happening—and likely, she wasn’t the only one. Countless eyes across the land were now fixed on Huai Song. As for the woman who had single-handedly upheld the Nalan Clan’s legacy for years, how would she fend off the overt and covert attacks now closing in?She couldn't help but recall that slightly scribbled letter she had seen in Yanbei many years ago:
"On the mountains are trees with branches so fair,
My heart adores you, but you're unaware."
Even those who appear as strong as iron eventually have moments of sorrow and heartache. Who can remain steadfast and unyielding forever?
On the ninth day of the third month, Li Ce's second son, Li Qiao'an, died of typhoid fever at just three years old. When the news reached Li Ce, he was inspecting the dikes at Xiang Lake. He rushed back in haste, but only managed to see the child's lifeless body.
Li Ce now had two sons and one daughter. The eldest son was six, the daughter four. The deceased child was the son of Lady Nanyun. After the boy's death, Lady Nanyun fell gravely ill from grief and passed away three days later.
Since the child was still young, he could not be placed in a coffin. Instead, he was cremated at Nantian Temple, and his ashes were interred within the temple grounds.
That night, Li Ce drank heavily. It was the first time Chu Qiao had ever seen him drunk. No matter the occasion before, he had always seemed clear-headed—even when he could barely walk, his eyes remained sharp and lucid.
That evening, he gripped Chu Qiao's hand tightly, repeatedly asking, "Have I committed too many killings? Have I committed too many killings?"
His grip was so forceful that Chu Qiao's wrist ached intensely. The great hall was utterly silent. A cold wind blew in, stirring up ethereal dust. Frogs chattered incessantly among the willow trees, yet the atmosphere felt even more desolate. On the purple bronze crane-top candlestand with coiling branches, drops of red candle wax dripped like a woman's silent tears rolling down rouged cheeks, falling quietly without a sound.
The next day, Li Ce posthumously honored Lady Nanyun as Consort Yun, entombing her in the imperial mausoleum and granting her family the honors of mourning.
Soon, it was already May. Madam Ziming, who had gone to the imperial manor to rest during her pregnancy, returned to the palace after giving birth to a son. The entire palace celebrated, and Li Ce named the child Qingrong, bestowing upon him the title of Prince Rong. Madam Ziming swiftly rose to become the highest-ranking of the three consorts, holding the title of Noble Consort.
The palace maids whispered among themselves, saying that this noble consort had a son shortly after entering the palace and had already climbed to the rank of consort, with the position of the empress likely within reach.
However, some remarked that she came from humble origins, her family had declined, and her father was a disgraced official. Even though her elder brother was gradually making a name for himself at court, his physical limitations prevented him from rising to high office. Without family support, Noble Consort Ming would find it difficult to achieve much.
As for Li Ce's harem affairs, Chu Qiao had no interest in inquiring and paid little attention to them normally. Suddenly recalling something, she asked Qiusui, "Why wasn't the Empress Dowager present at the Noble Consort's investiture ceremony?"
Qiusui replied, "After the late emperor passed away, the Empress Dowager left the palace for Anyin Temple and hasn't returned for many years."
Only then did Chu Qiao realize and recall the tumultuous life of this Empress Dowager, sighing inwardly with pity.
Just after April, Biantang was already bathed in warm spring breezes. A few days earlier, Zhuge Yue had sent someone to deliver a pair of twin-winged birds from the western regions. They were exceptionally beautiful with vibrant plumage. It was said that these birds were born in pairs from a young age—if one died, the other would never live alone.
Chu Qiao adored them so much that she fed them personally every day, renaming them the Biyi birds. The female bird seemed to have grown particularly fond of Chu Qiao. Gradually, even when let out of its cage, it wouldn't fly far, merely circling around the great hall and occasionally perching on Chu Qiao's shoulder, rubbing its neck against her cheek. The male bird, seeing this, would grow extremely agitated, flying around the room erratically and squawking, amusing all the young maids who burst into laughter.
Li Ce also seemed to like this pair of birds, often coming by to tease them.
One night, as Chu Qiao was sleeping, she suddenly felt as though someone was watching her. The moment she opened her eyes and sat up in the darkness, she was immediately pulled into a firm embrace.The man's familiar scent, his slightly heavy breathing, fanned against her neck in waves, carrying a strong aroma of alcohol. He held her so tightly, as if using all his strength, almost hurting her. She didn't struggle; through his cold clothes, she seemed to feel his loneliness and pain. Gently, she reached out and patted his back.
The desolate moonlight shone upon them. The man's robe was embroidered with fine dragon patterns in crimson thread, so delicate they seemed to blend into the layers of bright yellow, vaguely resembling a blood-streaked wrist.
Gradually, Li Ce released her. The alcohol rose within him, his breath carrying a clear, sharp fragrance of wine.
Chu Qiao cautiously asked, "Li Ce, are you mistaking me for her?"
Li Ce froze, turned to look at her, and slightly raised his eyebrows.
Chu Qiao suddenly felt uneasy, like a child who had unintentionally stumbled upon someone's secret. She whispered, "I heard from the servants... Princess Fu used to live here, didn't she?"
Li Ce stared at her intently, his gaze profound, like a deep, ancient well, clear yet murky. At that time, Chu Qiao might not have understood his expression; she only felt uncomfortable under his stare, a faint, tingling unease.
"Heh—"
Li Ce suddenly chuckled softly, then lazily drawled, "Fu'er had a much better figure than you."
That night, after leaving Mihe Residence, Li Ce went to Consort Ming's Roufu Palace. As soon as he stepped out of the hall, Chu Qiao noticed something shimmering on the table—it was Li Ce's jade thumb ring. She rushed to the window and called out, "Li, you fox! Your thumb ring!"
Li Ce turned back and flashed her a dazzling smile, so handsome under the moonlight it was almost blinding.
"A night of spring is worth a fortune in gold! I'll come back for it tomorrow!"
With that, he headed toward Roufu Palace.
Chu Qiao clutched the thumb ring, glaring fiercely at this frivolous emperor. As she turned away, her toe accidentally struck a raised threshold, sending a sharp pain through her. Frowning, she sat down and saw that she was bleeding heavily, staining her pure white nightgown red.
A flicker of panic suddenly stirred in her heart.
Around the fourth watch, the sound of hurried footsteps approached. Chu Qiao, already restless, sat up abruptly. Just then, Mei Xiang and Qiu Sui rushed into the hall, their faces ashen, and exclaimed:
"His Majesty has been assassinated!"
Thud!
In the darkness, the gleaming white jade thumb ring fell to the ground. It didn't shatter, but a corner chipped off as it rolled far across the polished floor.
By the time she reached Yixin Hall, the area outside was filled with the sound of weeping. The entire Imperial Hospital was waiting outside, while several senior physicians gathered inside. Basin after basin of bloody water were carried out, each one like a sharp knife piercing deep into the bone, causing excruciating pain.
Qiu Sui said Li Ce had been assassinated while staying at Consort Ming's palace. The assailant was an elderly eunuch who claimed Prince Luo was his benefactor. Before the guards could interrogate him, he bit off his tongue and died.Chu Qiao clenched her fists tightly. At this moment, she couldn't enter the inner hall—she didn't even have the right to kneel and weep outside. Frowning in confusion, she thought: Roufu Palace was heavily guarded, and Li Ce was surrounded by first-class martial arts experts. How could an unidentified old eunuch infiltrate the inner hall and successfully carry out an assassination? Moreover, given Li Ce's own martial skills, he would never let a stranger approach him unnoticed.
Gazing into the distance, she saw a thinly dressed woman kneeling alone in a small square in front of the main hall. Her hair was disheveled, and since her back was turned, her face couldn't be seen.
Qiusui said that was Consort Ming, who had been kneeling there from the beginning.
Just then, the hall's door suddenly opened. Sun Di, along with a group of loyal ministers, hurried forward and anxiously asked, "How is His Majesty's injury?"
The lead elderly physician wiped sweat from his forehead and said, "His Majesty's life is no longer in danger, but he still needs quiet rest."
Upon hearing this, the concubines collectively relaxed and burst into loud sobs. From the square, Consort Ming's body went limp, and she fainted.
"Minister Sun, His Majesty wishes to see you," the elderly physician said. Then, his gaze swept around and suddenly landed on Chu Qiao. "And this young lady as well."
In an instant, all ambiguous and strange glances converged on her. Chu Qiao took a deep breath, her expression calm as she stepped forward. After greeting Sun Di, she entered the main hall under everyone's watchful eyes.
The hall was stuffy and filled with the heavy scent of medicine. Sun Di went in first and emerged after a long while, saying to Chu Qiao, "His Majesty is weak. Keep it brief."
"Understood."
Chu Qiao nodded and entered the inner hall. Passing through layers of curtains, she found Li Ce lying on the enormous dragon bed.
His complexion was indeed terrible—she had never seen him like this before. His face was ashen, his eye sockets dark, and his lips nearly colorless. He stared at her, his gaze somewhat vacant. Just as Chu Qiao began to panic, he suddenly revealed a strange smile and said in a hoarse yet lighthearted tone, "Scared you to death, didn't I?"
Time reversed, and memories came flooding back. It was as if they had returned to the day they first met—the young Crown Prince dragged off his horse and beaten black and blue by her. He had yelped in pain while giving her that odd smile, like a carefree rogue.
"Li Ce—" she called out, her voice trembling.
A deep knife wound stretched across his chest, just an inch away from piercing his heart. Fear gripped her as she looked at him, her scalp tingling. She wanted to hold his hand but didn't dare, only repeating, "It's alright now. Rest and recover slowly."
"Originally," Li Ce spoke haltingly, "I wanted to personally prepare your dowry these days. Now, I'll have to leave it to that fellow Sun Di. I wonder... I wonder if he'll embezzle any of it."
Chu Qiao forced a smile and said gently, "Don't worry, I'll keep an eye on him."
"Mm."
He seemed exhausted; just those few words made his face grow paler. Chu Qiao quickly said, "Get some rest now. Don't speak anymore."
"Qiaoqiao, stay here with me."
"Alright." Chu Qiao nodded immediately. "I won't go anywhere. I'll stay right here with you."Li Ce had fallen into a deep slumber. During this time, the imperial physician came once to change his dressing. Chu Qiao personally witnessed the wound, and her suspicions about his injury grew even deeper. However, now was not the time to address these matters.
Three days later, Li Ce's condition showed improvement, and his complexion looked much better.
That morning, as Chu Qiao was fanning him in the inner chamber, she suddenly heard a commotion outside. Raising her eyebrows to look, she saw Qiu Sui hurriedly rushing in. Qiu Sui leaned close to her ear and whispered, "The Empress Dowager has returned to the palace."
Chu Qiao was startled and quickly stepped out.
Before she could even pass through the Yixin Gate, she saw the Empress Dowager's phoenix carriage winding its way toward her. Chu Qiao paid her respects to the Empress Dowager and followed the procession back to Yixin Hall. As the maids lifted the curtain, the Empress Dowager appeared in a simple, unadorned blue robe. When Chu Qiao looked up, she was taken aback. It had only been a few years since they last met, but the Empress Dowager seemed to have transformed into a completely different person—aged beyond recognition. Her hair was entirely white, her wrinkles deep, and her eyes sunken and bloodshot.
The moment she stepped out of the sedan chair, tears streamed down her face as she cried out in sorrow, "Where is my Ce'er? How is my Ce'er?"
"Your Majesty, the Emperor is already out of danger and only needs rest to recover," someone reported.
The Empress Dowager wept and scolded, "You useless servants! How have you been attending to him? If anything happens to the Emperor, all of you will be buried with him!"
With that, she strode toward Yixin Hall.
The servants trembled in fear, kneeling on the ground, not daring to lift their heads.
No one dared to stop the Empress Dowager. Chu Qiao followed behind and entered Yixin Hall. Li Ce was still asleep. The moment the Empress Dowager saw him, tears fell again. Trembling, she leaned closer, as if wanting to touch his face.
A palace maid from the Empress Dowager's entourage approached Chu Qiao and frowned, asking, "Who are you? Why are you here? The Empress Dowager is here to see the Emperor. All unrelated personnel must leave immediately."
Mei Xiang frowned and was about to speak, but Chu Qiao tugged at her sleeve and nodded. "Understood."
With that, she led Mei Xiang and the others out of Yixin Hall.
"Miss? The Emperor asked you to stay with him," Mei Xiang protested.
Chu Qiao sighed and said, "His mother has returned. What reason do we have to remain inside?"
Qiu Sui chimed in, "I never expected the Empress Dowager to care so much about the Emperor."
Just then, Minister Sun Di approached from ahead. Seeing Chu Qiao, he paused in surprise and asked, "Why are you not in Yixin Hall, Miss?"
Mei Xiang interjected, "The Empress Dowager returned and chased our Miss out!"
"The Empress Dowager?"
Sun Di was taken aback. He turned and strode toward Yixin Hall, his voice low and serious. "Who brought the Empress Dowager back? The news of the Emperor's assassination hasn't spread outside. How could the Empress Dowager have returned?"
At that moment, a sharp, piercing scream erupted from Yixin Hall. Sun Di and Chu Qiao froze simultaneously, then pushed open the doors of Yixin Hall and rushed inside together!
They saw the Empress Dowager clutching a dagger, her pale face smeared with crimson blood, her expression twisted and ferocious. Gone was the gentle, benevolent woman she once was—she now stood before the bed like a demon, shrieking, "I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I will avenge Luo'er!"
Chu Qiao's mind went blank, as if a blizzard from the far north had swept through, roaring and obliterating all thought.
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