"Some have told me that love is tolerance, love is patience, love is acceptance, love is brimming with hope—that love means standing forever on the opposite shore, neither approaching nor staying together, merely gazing silently from afar as long as the other is happy. Yet my love is selfish, desperate, fierce, filled with calculation and the demand for reciprocation. It can wound others as easily as it wounds myself. Still, it has seeped into my marrow, pierced my heart, and beats with every pulse of my veins, ceasing only with death. Does this not count as love?"
The carriage passed through several winding alleys and halted outside Jingxiang Gate. Ahead lay a dense grove of trees, their lush foliage nearly blotting out half the sky, blocking even the sunlight. Only layers of iron-red high walls remained, weathered by time into mottled patterns. A light touch of a finger would cause flakes of colorful plaster to crumble away.
A pale hand gripped the collar of a cloak and lifted the carriage curtain. Sunlight fell upon her temple, and the wind brushed through her hair, revealing a sliver of forehead like twilight snow atop a towering peak—so white it seemed almost translucent, exuding a chill from within her skin that made everything around feel cold. The corners of her eyes tilted slightly upward as she held a bamboo-framed umbrella, shielding her face and revealing only a slender chin.
Bei'er, carrying a medicine chest, hurried up from behind. Seeing the eunuch guide negotiating with the gate guards, she lowered her voice excitedly and said, "Master, so this is the imperial palace!"
She did not reply but lowered her gaze, quietly staring at the bluestone pavement beneath. It had rained all day, and the sky had yet to clear. Raindrops swept sideways in the wind, and the light was thin and dimly crimson, casting faint circles of rosy hue on her snow-white monastic robe.
Seeing her silence, Bei'er stuck out her tongue discreetly and imitated her posture, standing properly. Just then, the eunuch guide approached and said with a smile, "Master Shui Xiang, please follow me."
Shui Xiang nodded and replied, "Thank you, sir eunuch."
Her voice, when it sounded, was rough and hoarse, startling even the carriage driver. No one expected such an ethereal female healer to have a voice like this—as if scorched by embers, evoking an inexplicable sense of gloom. The old eunuch couldn't help stealing another glance at her. She wore a dark robe, her hair as black as ink, and a veil covered most of her face, leaving only her eyes visible. They were dark and bright, bottomless in their depth. Though she kept her head bowed, an air of nobility emanated from the subtle lift of her brows and the corners of her eyes. When she raised her gaze, there was a sharp intensity to it.
"Sir eunuch?"
She raised her brows slightly and called out softly. The old eunuch snapped out of his daze and hurriedly said, "This way, please."
After days of rain, even with the palace's efficient drainage, puddles were everywhere. The old eunuch, aware of Shui Xiang's status, dared not underestimate her. Habitually hunched, he offered to hold the umbrella for her. Shui Xiang did not refuse and walked silently beside him. When they reached a corridor, she instinctively turned left, prompting the old eunuch to exclaim in surprise, "Master Shui Xiang, this is only your third time entering the palace, yet you already remember the way? When I first entered the palace, it took me two or three years to find my way around."
Hearing this, Shui Xiang paused slightly and replied with a faint smile, "I have a good memory."The old eunuch smiled and said, "No wonder you're the renowned female physician—truly capable. Consort Yang felt better the very next day after taking the medicine you prescribed."
Shui Xiang responded with a faint smile, "You flatter me, sir." After speaking, she subtly retreated half a step, following behind the old eunuch with her head bowed in silence.
Upon reaching the Directorate of Imperial Attendants, she underwent the routine inspection. The chief eunuch of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices delivered a brief admonishment before handing her over to the supervising eunuch of the Qian'an Hall. Bei'er could no longer accompany her further and handed the medicine chest to Shui Xiang, saying cheerfully, "I'll wait here for you, Master."
As soon as she finished speaking, Bei'er noticed Shui Xiang turn and gaze at her silently. Shui Xiang's eyes were exceptionally deep, fixed on her as calmly as dark obsidian. Bei'er had been with Shui Xiang for three years—ever since a hysterical epidemic swept the capital, claiming her father's life. Fortunately, she had been spared and taken in by Shui Xiang. Though her master was typically aloof and sparing with words, she had always treated Bei'er kindly. Yet, under that gaze, Bei'er shuddered involuntarily and timidly called out, "Master?"
Shui Xiang withdrew her gaze, reached out to smooth the stray hairs at Bei'er's temple, and asked gently, "Are you hungry?"
Bei'er hurriedly replied, "No, I'm not."
"You brought some pastries, didn't you? If you get hungry, have some."
It was rare for Shui Xiang to be so amiable. Bei'er felt both overwhelmed and delighted, answering with a sweet smile, "I'm not hungry, Master. I'll wait to eat with you tonight when you return."
Shui Xiang said nothing more and turned to leave with the supervising eunuch. As they exited the courtyard, she glanced back and saw Bei'er still standing at the gate, beaming, her cheeks flushed like fine rouge.
How old was Bei'er now? Probably fifteen?
A fleeting thought surfaced weakly in her mind, and Shui Xiang's brow furrowed slightly. The rain had stopped, but the air grew colder. The supervising eunuch briefed her on the protocols for meeting the emperor, and she listened attentively, committing each detail to memory. After walking for nearly half an hour, they arrived outside Qian'an Hall. As the attendant went in to announce them, she stood waiting, her heart pounding with nerves. Despite taking deep breaths, she couldn't suppress the tension. Behind her veil, her lips were pressed tightly together, her expression grave. In truth, this restlessness had gripped her since her first entry into the palace three months ago—or even since she returned to this city five years earlier. It was a mix of anxiety, excitement, fervor, and even anticipation. Shui Xiang knew such emotions had no place in her now. At this stage, the slightest distraction could ruin her plans entirely. Yet she couldn't help it—especially today, especially now!
The hall doors slowly opened, but it wasn't the supervising eunuch who emerged. Instead, a stunning woman in blue-purple palace attire appeared—her figure alluring, her face radiant as peach blossoms, and her robes luxurious. With phoenix eyes slanting upward, she frowned slightly at the sight of Shui Xiang and demanded, "Who are you?"
"This is Master Shui Xiang, recommended by Consort Yang to treat His Majesty's illness," the supervising eunuch explained as he stepped out, then hurriedly added to Shui Xiang, "Master Shui Xiang, pay your respects to Consort Cheng."Shui Xing's gaze paused slightly, lingering quietly on Cheng Fei's face for a moment before she bowed and said, "Greetings, Your Highness."
Her voice was calm, and her palace etiquette was impeccably performed, utterly unlike someone who had just entered the palace. Cheng Fei could find no fault, yet her expression grew increasingly somber. She said coldly, "She appears meticulous, but why is she still wearing a veil? Who permitted her to wear such a thing within the palace?"
The supervising eunuch hurriedly replied, "Your Highness, Master Shui Xing is a lay Buddhist practitioner and should not be seen by outsiders. Thus, she has always entered the palace with her face veiled."
Cheng Fei snorted coldly, "Are the physicians at the Imperial Hospital all useless? Consort Yang is too reckless—how dare she recommend an outsider so carelessly? If anything goes wrong, who will take responsibility?"
The discord between Cheng Fei and Consort Yang was no secret. Cheng Fei's elder brother, Cheng Yuan, was a high-ranking military official who had accompanied the emperor on numerous campaigns. In contrast, Consort Yang hailed from the powerful Huai Song clan, backed not only by her influential family but also by the support of Huai Song's former officials. Especially since the passing of Empress Nalan, the emperor had not appointed a new empress, intensifying the rivalry between the two consorts. The supervising eunuch had known trouble was brewing the moment he saw Cheng Fei, yet he had no choice but to brace himself and say, "Your Highness, Master Shui Xing is the direct disciple of Abbess Jingyue of Taiji Convent, renowned for her exceptional medical skills. Moreover, today's consultation was personally approved by His Majesty."
Cheng Fei turned and cast a cold, piercing glance at the supervising eunuch before sneering, "In that case, take this master inside quickly." With that, she swept away with her entourage in a huff.
The supervising eunuch wiped the cold sweat from his brow and said to Shui Xing, "Master Shui Xing, please follow me."
The palace doors creaked open slowly, and tiny specks of dust danced fervently in the sunlight. Standing outside, Shui Xing felt a sudden daze, as if she were dreaming—believing that stepping inside would transport her back to a bygone day when her father and brothers were still alive, and she was still young and innocent.
But it was merely a dream. An unfamiliar atmosphere washed over her. Though the furnishings were achingly familiar, the essence had changed. Gone was the extravagant scent of palace incense, the vibrant swirls of silk sleeves, and the shadowy figures bowing their heads, raising their cups, and chanting praises to the emperor. The great hall stood empty, with palace lanterns hanging high above. A few palace attendants in plain robes stood below, and dark curtains embroidered with golden koi and sprawling roses draped low, their patterns glaring under the lantern light. Deep within the layers of curtains, a figure sat with head bowed, seemingly engrossed in reading. He did not look up at the sound of their entrance, and the depth of the hall made it impossible for Shui Xing to discern his features.
Following the supervising eunuch, Shui Xing knelt and kowtowed toward the figure. The eunuch respectfully announced, "Your Majesty, Master Shui Xing has arrived."The person above did not reply, forcing Shui Xiang and her companion to continue kneeling with bowed heads. The hall was eerily silent, so quiet that one could even hear the friction of palace attendants' skin against the embroidered collars of their garments as they breathed. Shui Xiang's heart pounded violently in her chest—thump, thump, thump!—like a war drum on the battlefield, each beat shaking her throat with an itching sensation. Her hands rested flat on her knees in the proper court etiquette of kneeling. The shifting light and shadows of time brushed past her hairline, settling on her slender shoulders and that delicate neck, pale as frost and snow, utterly devoid of color.
"Rise."
A low voice echoed from the depths of the hall, neither gentle nor excessively cold, but calm, like a drop of water falling into a still lake, sending out transparent ripples. Yet these simple words instantly tightened Shui Xiang's spine, raising fine goosebumps across her skin. She stood behind the chief eunuch with her head lowered, her hands hanging naturally at her sides, fingers slightly curled, but her thumbnails pressed tightly against her index fingers, digging in hard. The pain was like sharp, tiny silver needles piercing her fiercely churning rationality.
"Your Majesty, this is Master Shui Xiang from Taiji Convent."
Yan Xun slightly raised his head, the day's toil having left him weary. He set down his brush, pressing his left thumb against his temple, his eyes half-closed as he massaged slowly. His gaze swept lightly over Shui Xiang's figure before he nodded and said, "Come closer."
Shui Xiang followed the chief eunuch forward. Yan Xun extended his right hand, laying it flat on the desk. Kneeling below, Shui Xiang's face was mostly obscured by her veil, with her bangs hanging down, even covering her eyes. She kept her head lowered, her gaze as calm as water, yet in the unseen depths, it seemed as if a dark blizzard had erupted. It was still that hand—slender, pale, fingertips calloused from years of wielding blades and drawing bows, the little finger missing a large segment, the newly grown flesh roughened over time into an ugly, hideous scar.
She only hesitated for a moment before regaining her composure, placing her fingers on the emperor's pulse to diagnose him. Yan Xun, however, couldn't help but glance at her. Most physicians would freeze upon suddenly seeing his hand, but this one had adjusted her emotions so quickly—she was indeed clever.
After finishing the diagnosis, Shui Xiang silently stepped back, her head still bowed as she said, "Your Majesty's condition is not serious, merely due to overwork and lack of sleep. Later, this humble nun will prescribe a medicine. Once you drink it and rest more, you will naturally recover fully."
Her voice was low and hoarse, utterly unlike what one would expect from her. Hearing this, Yan Xun's eyebrows lifted slightly, and he studied her with a faint gaze, asking, "Was your voice always like this?"
Shui Xiang replied, "Your Majesty, this humble nun's family suffered a great fire in my childhood, and my throat was damaged by the smoke."
Yan Xun said nothing more, his eyes drifting over her face before lowering again. Just then, a eunuch entered from outside the hall to deliver memorials, and a chill wind swept in abruptly. Yan Xun frowned slightly, his fingers pressing unconsciously harder against his temple.
Noticing this, Shui Xiang said, "This humble nun also knows a massage technique that can relieve headaches. Would Your Majesty like to try it?"The candles in the hall grew brighter as the sun set outside the window, dusk descending. Time flowed slowly, and Yan Xun's gaze drifted down like snowflakes, settling on Shui Xiang with a trace of hidden meaning. After a moment of silence, he nodded and said, "Alright."
Shui Xiang walked steadily behind him, extending a pair of pale hands to press against his forehead. Her fingers were icy cold, startling to the touch like the frigid snow atop a mountain, chilling to the heart. Yet Yan Xun remained composed, feeling her nimble and strong fingers on his head, his headache indeed easing slightly. He closed his eyes slightly and asked casually, "Your master is Abbess Jingyue?"
Shui Xiang replied softly, "Yes."
"How many years have you been in the capital?"
Shui Xiang said, "Exactly five years."
A faint smile tugged at Yan Xun's lips, but there was no mirth in his eyes as he said indifferently, "Where are you from originally?"
Shui Xiang answered calmly, head lowered, "From Minzhou."
Yan Xun's brow furrowed slightly. He clenched his hand into a fist, brought it to his lips, and coughed lightly. "Your capital accent is quite good."
Shui Xiang murmured an acknowledgment but said no more. The hall was vast, absurdly large, and from somewhere came a gentle breeze, carrying a faint, delicate fragrance. Shui Xiang's gaze remained serene as she silently observed the man before her. Though she saw only his back, though she had not lifted her head since entering the hall, she could still vividly imagine his appearance. Yes, it must be like this—narrow eyes, a profound gaze, a tall and straight nose, thin lips, even their color pale, always pressed together as if disdainful of everyone. How long ago had it been? Shui Xiang stood there, her memories traversing mountains and seas back to that bygone era. She had hidden behind her elder brothers, tightly held by her wet nurse, peeking through the crowd to see that youth approaching from afar. The other young princes and crown princes were crying and fussing incessantly; even the quiet ones had swollen eyes, unwillingly sent in as hostages. Only he, with clear, bright eyes and a composed smile, showed no fear of leaving his homeland to serve as a pledge. Spotting her staring at him from the crowd, he had playfully winked at her.
From then on, a series of bright days unfolded. The palace was so large, the people so numerous, yet her eyes could only see him. She was so young then, and the palace thresholds so high, almost taller than her little legs. Every day, she would run from one palace gate to another, sweating profusely, just to hide outside the Hall of Martial Arts and steal a glimpse of him...
Yet, those days had ultimately passed.
Shui Xiang silently, slowly, took a deep breath. Her mind swept over mountains of blades and seas of fire, the collapse of a nation, the clashing of arms and armored horses in battle, the bitter struggles of shame and darkness. Finally, everything faded away, leaving only the back before her—this man who had remained unyielding as iron from beginning to end.Shui Xing's right hand brushed over his forehead, his neck, his shoulders, and his spine—as if tracing the entire trajectory of her tumultuous life. She gazed at him, this man she had pursued for half a lifetime, loved bitterly for half a lifetime, hated for half a lifetime, and who had utterly ruined her entire existence. Her heart pounded violently, as if trying to leap from her throat. Let it be, she thought. What more can be done? Isn't this the best outcome? She had endured humiliation, suffering, and torment in silence and struggle—all for this very moment, had she not?
A sharp glint flashed in her eyes. With a flick of her wrist, a soft silver gleam slipped from her sleeve into her palm!
Yan Xun's calm eyes flickered slightly, his gaze deepening as if he had instantly seen through something.
Just then, a palace maid in plain attire approached with a basin of white charcoal to replenish the incense burner behind the screen. Yan Xun shifted his foot, pressing down on the carpet, and abruptly exerted force. Instantly, the maid cried out as she stumbled forward, the basin of white charcoal in her hands spilling entirely toward Yan Xun and Shui Xing!
In an instant, the hall erupted into panicked shouts and screams. Shui Xing was stunned by the sudden turn of events, while Yan Xun seized the moment to retreat swiftly.
"Hurry! Someone, come quickly!"
The chief eunuch, pale with terror, scrambled to Yan Xun's side, frantically patting down his robes in fear that he might have suffered the slightest burn. The maid had already fainted from fright, and guards rushed in to restrain her, wary that this "assassin" might attempt further action. Though the empire had gradually stabilized in recent years, the Yan Emperor's palace was never short of such desperate assassins—whether disgruntled remnants of the former dynasty or hidden followers of the Great Alliance Society, they had repeatedly infiltrated the palace with intent to assassinate.
The hall descended into chaos. Everyone wore ashen expressions, bracing for the emperor's wrath over the incident. Yet Yan Xun remained silent from start to finish, his brow tightly furrowed—so deeply it seemed to convey confusion, doubt, and even a trace of helplessness. Still, none of this diminished his authority. His icy gaze remained fixed on that person, as if piercing through the stray hairs at her temples and the thick veil, straight into her heart.
Following his gaze, the chief eunuch abruptly noticed Shui Xing.
While the guards busied themselves handling the assassin, summoning physicians, and protecting the emperor, she alone stood motionless—her skin pallid, her eyes vacant, like a lost wandering spirit devoid of any color. The fabric on her back was scorched, her neck flushed red, but these were not the gravest concerns. What mattered most was that she remained with arms outstretched, blocking the way like a scarecrow, the sleeves of her robe already ablaze in a raging inferno.
"Ah!" the chief eunuch cried out. "Save her, quickly!"
A bucket of water splashed over her, drenching her disheveled robes. Her arms were severely burned. Several attendants hurried to support her as the chief eunuch urgently instructed, "Take Master Shui Xing to the side hall at once! Fetch the physicians immediately!"
The maids acknowledged and began to escort her out.
"Stop."He suddenly spoke, his voice icy cold, like burnt-out incense ashes tinged with a dull gloom. It pierced through layers of opulent brocade curtains and reached her ears. Outside the window, wind and rain wept desolately, droplets sliding off the eaves with a rhythmic patter, accentuating the quiet resonance of his trailing words as they echoed clearly through the vast, empty hall.
“You… turn around.”
The room was dimly lit, almost eerily tinged with a hint of red. The tall, golden-arm candles burned silently, casting slender threads of light upon Yan Xun’s lean, straight back. The golden threads on his collar gleamed brilliantly, the dragon’s claws fierce and menacing, as if about to tear through the black brocade and soar into the sky. He frowned, his ears catching only the distant rumble of thunder rolling across the horizon—so far away, yet so near.
Shui Xiang stood there, yet it seemed she could hear nothing. The world felt terrifyingly empty, everything before her eyes turning ethereal and indistinct. All the years of enduring humiliation and bearing heavy burdens, the narrow escapes from death, the desperate flights like a stray dog, the painstaking plans, and the lonely agony that descended with each night—suddenly turned into a pool of cold, dead ashes, devoid of even the slightest warmth. She lowered her head, gazing at the twin phoenix jade hairpins holding up a veil of gossamer brocade as light as mist. A faint breeze stirred, lifting it gently, like rootless duckweed, much like herself. This life, this existence, had never truly been held in her own hands.
So be it, she thought, the corners of her mouth twitching, yet unable to even form a bitter smile.
So be it—what else could she do? In the end, she was just so useless, so foolish, so utterly contemptible!
She bit her lower lip hard, so fiercely it felt as though she might pierce through it. She didn’t know what she had been thinking at that moment, why she couldn’t bring herself to thrust the needle down, why she had instead, as if bewitched, stretched out both hands to block the way.
Was she mad? Was her mind unclear? Was she under some spell?
Or was it, was it, was it still that disgusting thought lurking in her heart, something she couldn’t forget even after ten or twenty years?
She suddenly wanted to cry, to weep uncontrollably, to pour out all the bitterness, exhaustion, pain, and shame of these years, to never again cower and struggle in nightmares every night. But when had these eyes of hers dried up? Was it the day she fled in defeat? Or the day she submitted in humiliation beneath that old man? Or perhaps the moment when those beasts tore her clothes?
Or was it many, many years ago, when she knelt in her bright red wedding dress under a sky filled with spreading flames, watching those two ride side by side on horseback, charging out through the gates of Zhenhuang City?
Outside, the rain grew heavier, suddenly blowing open a corner of the window. The icy wind lifted her black robes, just like when she was a child sitting on a wisteria-wrapped swing, the air filled with the light, delicate fragrance of those pale purple blossoms. The wind brushed past her ears, lifting the hem of her skirt and the strands of her hair. A palace maid gave a strong push, and she soared high into the air. The sky felt so close, as if she could reach out and touch it. The clouds were pure white, like the herds of cattle and sheep beyond the frontier that her mother often spoke of. The shouts of her brothers practicing martial arts in the Shangwu Hall echoed like layers of waves, clear and resonant in her ears.
How warm the sunlight was back then, the air thick with the moisture of joy. She was so small, so young, the corners of her eyes as clear as lake water. She stretched her legs straight, swinging back and forth with the motion of the swing, but her gaze flew over the high walls, past the red walls and golden tiles, beyond the layers of palace halls, all the way to that dark-lacquered wooden gate. She saw him standing in the courtyard, his brows cold, his gaze profound. The wind brushed against the hem of his robe, and then he seemed as if he were about to fly away, his very features shrouded in a haze of mist. That mist grew thicker and denser, until it was buried beneath layers of time, never to be found again.
"Master Shui Xiang, the Emperor is calling for you. Master Shui Xiang?"The eunuch steward called out anxiously beside her, yet she remained completely motionless. Yan Xun’s face was obscured by the lingering sandalwood incense, and through the drifting white wisps, he watched her black-robed figure from behind. Suddenly, it seemed he understood.
Yan Xun gazed at her for a long, long time before finally asking quietly, "Are you Shui Xiang?"
She did not answer, nor did she turn around, merely standing there in silence.
Yan Xun asked again, "Do you reside in Taiji Convent?"
Still, she did not reply. The hall was so quiet one could hear a pin drop. The candlelight fell upon her, casting a long, slender shadow on the ground—so delicate it seemed a gentle touch might cause her to collapse.
Yan Xun’s tightly furrowed brow gradually relaxed. He watched her silently, his gaze so profound it seemed to traverse past grievances and enmities. At last, he spoke in a detached tone, "You may leave."
It was as if a mouthful of cold water had been poured into her chest, tightening her already choked throat. Shui Xiang’s fingers, hanging at her sides, trembled slightly. Try as she might, she could not form them into fists. All her persistence, her humiliation, the hatred that had gnawed at her heart day and night like a parasitic worm—suddenly, it all crumbled beneath such a light, dismissive remark. The heart she had forcibly pieced together with bitterness and resentment over the years shattered instantly, leaving behind a vast emptiness, a piercing pain, and an icy chill.
"Master Shui Xiang, His Majesty has asked you to leave. Please go quickly!"
The eunuch steward, long accustomed to navigating the palace and sharp as a tack, sensed something unusual and hurriedly urged her in a low voice. Shui Xiang silently exhaled and slowly began to walk outward. Inside the hall, the candle flames flickered. Yan Xun, seemingly troubled in mind, dismissed his attendants and sat back down at the recently tidied desk, lowering his head to review the remaining memorials. The vermilion brush glided over the bright yellow paper, emitting a soft sound. The wind blew, lifting the hem of Shui Xiang’s gray-black monastic robe, revealing a pair of cloth shoes beneath. Her steps were calm and dignified, more so than even palace consorts who had served for years.
A eunuch opened the door, and a slanting wind carrying cold rain struck her, chilling her to the bone. Shui Xiang stepped one foot out of the hall, half her shoulder exposed beyond the doorway. She ought to leave—she should have left—yet for some reason, she suddenly halted, rigid and unmoving, unable to take another step.
The eunuch steward raised an eyebrow, stepped forward, and took her arm, saying, "Let me escort you out, Master." Without waiting for her response, he guided her outward.
A young eunuch in the hall immediately came forward to close the door. Shui Xiang complied, allowing the steward to support her, her head slightly bowed. The night wind blew in, abruptly whisking away her veil. The steward exclaimed softly, released her, and bent down to retrieve it. Seizing the moment, she turned slightly, her gaze shifting to peer through the still-open crack in the door. In the dim light, he sat alone, not looking up, yet his brush had paused.
As the door closed inch by inch, fragments of memories—long forgotten—flooded back to her. In those bright, vibrant days of their youth, they were both innocent and carefree, their lives flowing like a mountain stream, rushing joyfully through those radiant times.
How long had it been since she last remembered? So long that she thought she had forgotten.
But now, standing here, those memories surged like a summer flash flood, instantly shattering the barriers she had sealed within her mind.In those days, Daxia was at its peak. Her father's health was robust, her elder brothers were still young, and even their occasional squabbles carried the innocence and cheerfulness of children.
Yet at that time, her eyes were too pure, her thoughts too simple. She could not see the piles of bleached bones buried beneath the resplendent golden palaces, nor the bloodstained blades concealed beneath the colorful brocades. Even the increasingly urgent war drums were drowned out by the music and revelry within the deep palace walls. She lived in self-deception within her own world, fantasizing about one day marrying him in phoenix coronet and embroidered robes, then following him for a lifetime, caring for him, trusting him, and obeying his words.
If only life could remain as it was at first sight, would there then be no subsequent clashes of swords and entanglements of karmic obstacles?
After all, who was at fault?
"Master Shui Xiang, your veil."
Shui Xiang turned around, and the chief eunuch was suddenly taken aback. Although he had never seen Master Shui Xiang's true face before, she had only covered her nose and mouth, leaving her brows and eyes visible. Yet in just this short while, she seemed to have aged twenty years suddenly. Crow's feet filled her eyes, her temples were silver-white like snow, and especially her eyes—no longer possessing the calm depth of their first meeting—had become filled with vicissitudes, desolate and lonely like a handful of dead ashes.
"Thank you."
Shui Xiang took the veil from the chief eunuch's hand but did not put it on. She turned and walked toward the palace entrance, not needing anyone to guide her, familiar with the path as if it were her own garden.
With a heavy "thud," the massive palace doors finally closed completely. The wind whistled like night-crying birds sweeping across the dome of the Holy Gold Palace. A young eunuch hurried over with an umbrella, and the chief eunuch, coming to his senses, rushed after her. He saw Shui Xiang's slender, frail figure slowly walking down the long Eternal Lane. Night mist enveloped her, rain beating on her shoulders, she resembled a lonely ghost.
This day was the fourth day of the ninth month in the fourteenth year of Kaiyuan. On the ninth day of the twelfth month of the same year, a fire broke out at the Taiji Convent in the eastern part of the imperial city. The blaze raged for a full day and night, reducing the entire convent to ashes.
That evening, the commander of the capital guards, A Jing, entered the palace with a secret memorial. Yan Xun was having his meal at the time. After kneeling in homage, Commander A Jing said gravely, "Master Shui Xiang of Taiji Convent has left."
Yan Xun raised an eyebrow and asked, "Dead?"
"No, she has left."
Yan Xun uttered a faint "oh" and lowered his head to continue eating his porridge. "You haven't eaten yet, have you?"
A Jing initially wanted to say he had, but felt he shouldn't deceive his sovereign, so he answered honestly, "Your subject has just arrived from the secondary capital and has not yet eaten."
Yan Xun said casually, "Sit and eat together."
A Jing hurriedly replied, "Your subject dare not."
Yan Xun didn't insist. He ordered a palace maid to set another table for him, and A Jing sat on a small stool to the side and ate half a bowl of porridge. When he finished, Yan Xun instructed him to withdraw. Full of confusion, A Jing finally ventured to ask softly, "Does Your Majesty not wish to know where she has gone?"
Yan Xun said indifferently, "No need to know."
"Should we not continue to have her watched?Incense smoke curled hazily from the large censer. A palace maid in rain-blue court attire hurried forward and sprinkled a handful of golden incense into the burner. After a moment of silence, Yan Xun finally replied in a calm tone, "No need."
A Jing immediately regretted his loose tongue. After kneeling in farewell, he left the main hall.The grand hall was deeply dark, while outside the snow lay white and gleaming, reflecting the bright moonlight, casting a pallid glow all around. Yet stubborn shadows lingered in the corners, refusing to be dispelled.
Inside the hall, a lamp flickered and went out. The chief eunuch emerged, bowing slightly, and was approached by the eunuch from the Records Office, who asked, "Which consort is to be summoned tonight?"
"None," the chief eunuch replied, forming a circle with his thumb and forefinger—a gesture indicating the Emperor was in a foul mood. "His Majesty has already retired."
Silence settled over the hall like still water. Yan Xun lay on the dragon bed, his eyes closed.
The night stretched on, interminably long.
————Divider————
The publishing editor hoped I could add a little more to the publication, so I wrote this extra chapter. Unfortunately, it was ultimately replaced by Li Ce's youngest son, so I'll just leave it here.
OpenNovel