The Golden Hairpin

She raised her hand to touch the side of her temple, pausing slightly when her fingers brushed the wooden hairpin holding her hair in place, clearly recalling the disheveled state of her hair the last time it had come loose. Lowering her hand, she traced a single horizontal line on the railing with her fingertip before speaking.

"First, the appearance of this talisman could only have been arranged by someone closest to you. Therefore, it must have been placed deliberately in your path—on the city walls of Xuzhou—by someone in your inner circle."

As she spoke, she drew two more horizontal lines on the railing. "Second, the red circle on the talisman appeared only after it had been in your possession, meaning this person not only followed you to the city walls but also remained close enough to manipulate everything around you. It must be someone you trust implicitly—a servant, perhaps."

"Third, the illness diagnosed by the military physician aligns with the effects of this talisman. This suggests there isn’t just one conspirator in your midst, but at least two—one being the physician, and the other, your close attendant." She withdrew her hand, blowing lightly on her fingertips before concluding, "Following the trail of the military physician should lead us to the hidden accomplice."

Li Shubai neither agreed nor disagreed, continuing instead, "The physician took his own life immediately afterward. As for the guards I had trained over the years, I gradually reassigned them elsewhere, never to be recalled again."

Huang Ziyao’s gaze fell on the talisman. "But the markings here..." It seemed the red circle on the fragmented character had faded, leaving only a faint trace.

"After half a year of treatment, my arm was saved, so the red circle on that character gradually disappeared. But my left arm is now useless—good only for mundane tasks like writing or sketching. I can no longer wield a sword or draw a bow." He extended his left hand, flexing his fingers before her. "Truthfully, I was left-handed before."

For someone accustomed to using their left hand to swiftly retrain their right after such a loss—the hardship involved was something few could comprehend.

Recalling the effortless ease with which he had pulled her from the carriage, Huang Ziyao couldn’t help but feel deep admiration for the man before her. At the very least, she doubted she possessed the willpower to start anew, training her non-dominant right hand to such proficiency after twenty-odd years.

"Originally, I thought the matter had ended once I dismissed my former attendants. So I kept this talisman securely hidden, hoping one day to use it to expose the hidden conspirator. However, just a few days ago, when I heard the Emperor intended to select a consort for me, I remembered the character 'widower' on this talisman and retrieved it for another look. To my surprise, a new red circle had appeared—this time encircling the word 'widower.'" He lifted the talisman, pressing a finger to the vermilion-circled character, his lips curling into a sardonic smile. "'Widower' refers to a man who has lost his wife. It seems my marriage may be met with some unforeseen misfortune."Huang Zixiang took the talisman from his hand and examined it carefully. The vermilion red on it indeed appeared fresher than the one on the "solitary" character, making the crimson hue seem even more menacing and oppressive.

"Incredible. It’s as if ghosts and gods are at work, as if fate itself has decreed it. After three or four years, this talisman has suddenly bloomed anew with blood," Li Shubai said slowly. "The people around me have changed many times, and when I hid this talisman, I took greater care than when handling military secrets. Yet, against all odds, this talisman—which should have been absolutely flawless—has now revealed an ominous sign."

Huang Zixiang set the talisman down and said, "It seems this talisman may be far more complicated than we imagined."

"Hmm." He acknowledged, pausing for a long moment before continuing in a measured tone, "In any case, this time, someone is bound to stir up trouble over my marriage. And the bride I’ve chosen—the daughter of the Langya Wang family—seems to have a complicated background herself. If my marriage is exploited, or if someone uses it to create chaos, to make a grand spectacle—for example—"

His gaze lingered on her for a long while before he finally said, "It suddenly occurs to me that Wang Yun, the eldest grandson of the Langya Wang family’s main branch, was once your fiancé. You refused to marry him to the point of death, even poisoning your own family—making it the greatest humiliation of his life. A disgrace like that, he might endure, but I cannot."

"I did not kill my parents or my family," she said through gritted teeth, enunciating each word clearly. "If you want my help, do not bring this up again in front of me."

He glanced at her and replied, "I was merely repeating others’ opinions, not my own."

She bit her lower lip lightly and asked in a low voice, "When did you start believing that I didn’t kill my family?"

He gave her a faint, ambiguous smile, then stood and walked across the winding bridge over the water, as if unwilling to continue the conversation.

They proceeded along the dimly lit narrow path toward the brightly illuminated depths of the pavilion. Huang Zixiang followed behind him, listening as he said slowly, "Indeed. Because I examined your palm and saw that you are not a murderer."

She froze, then immediately seized the flaw in his words. "Last time you read my palm, you claimed my lines showed I had poisoned my family—that’s how you deduced my identity!"

"I lied."

"Then how did you figure out who I was last time?"

"That’s none of your concern." With a single sentence, he shut down all further questions. "Your only task is to help me uncover the mystery behind this talisman. Once that’s done, your role is over."

"Then why not just read the palms of everyone around you? Wouldn’t that solve everything?" she pressed stubbornly.

"Not interested," he replied without turning back. "Because, compared to reading palms, I much prefer watching someone play the role of a little eunuch."

And so, the pitiful little eunuch of Prince Kui’s residence—no, rather, Yang Chonggu—followed the prince into the palace for the second time, heading to Penglai Pavilion in Daming Palace to participate in the selection process for Prince Kui’s consort.

It was the third month of the year, yet there was no sunlight. The blooming peach and plum blossoms in the imperial gardens could not dispel the chill that clung to the palace.

"How strange. Daming Palace was built on high ground facing the sun, so why does it feel even colder here than in the city?"Li Shubai heard Huang Zixiang muttering to herself and cast her a sidelong glance, saying, "Because this is the inner palace—the most exalted place under heaven, and also where the empire's schemes flourish most abundantly."

Huang Zixiang gazed at the shimmering waters below and fell silent. Some words could be spoken by certain people, but not by others.

They stood atop the high terrace of Penglai Hall, overlooking the vast Taiye Pool below. In the whistling wind, the flowering trees along the lakeshore swayed like waves in a boundless sea of blossoms, their pink and white petals cradling the azure waters.

"Nearly all the noble ladies have arrived. Would Your Highness care to enter the hall and observe their conversations?" Huang Zixiang asked.

A faint smile played on Li Shubai's lips as he glanced at her. "Why the hurry?"

Suppressing her eagerness to see the capital's beauties, Huang Zixiang waited for his next words. Instead, he asked, "Is the token safe?"

"Perfectly so." She opened the brocade box she had been cradling and peeked inside. While the entire palace speculated about what priceless jewel or rare treasure the Prince of Kui might have chosen as his betrothal gift, none could guess that nestled within was a single peony—the Qiliuli variety—cut at the peak of its bloom.

Huang Zixiang studied the peerlessly vibrant crimson peony and remarked, "This morning, as you instructed, I waited to cut it the moment it bloomed. Old Liu the gardener nearly cursed me to the heavens, not realizing it was your order. He ranted about how he'd spent over two months digging channels and using slow-burning charcoal to force just this one blossom—that cutting it meant no Qiliuli peonies would be seen this year."

The corner of Li Shubai's mouth finally curved into a slight smile. "Old Liu has indeed rendered meritorious service."

"Using a peony as a betrothal token—Your Highness is truly refined." She closed the box carefully, holding it in both hands. Observing the rare pleased expression on Li Shubai's face, she couldn't help thinking privately: Beautiful flowers don't last, withering all too soon. How could someone as astute as Prince Li Shubai overlook this? Perhaps because other tokens could be preserved—and if he later wished to renege, demanding their return would be awkward.

Cradling the peony, her thoughts turned to the ominous talisman she'd seen days earlier. A pang of deep sympathy stirred within her for whichever young woman was about to be chosen as his princess consort.

Before long, a palace matron from the empress's retinue arrived to announce that all candidates were present and the prince might proceed as he wished.

Li Shubai motioned for Huang Zixiang to follow him into the inner hall.

By imperial custom, when a prince selected his consort, the candidates were typically daughters of high-ranking ministers or scions of noble families—all women of impeccable pedigree. Thus, there was no need for overt inspection. Though everyone understood the purpose beforehand, it remained unspoken. A banquet would be held in the front hall while the prince observed discreetly from behind a screen in the rear chamber. If someone caught his eye, he would discreetly indicate his choice. The selected lady would then be invited to the rear hall, presented with the prince's token, asked her name and lineage—nothing more. Yet with this, all was decided.

Huang Zixiang followed Li Shubai into the side chamber. Layers of curtains hung throughout the space, and though the partition separating the front and rear halls was closed, its latticework of auspicious motifs covered with sheer crimson silk allowed him to clearly observe everyone in the front hall—while those outside could only glimpse a vague silhouette of him.It seemed they sensed his gaze from behind, as the young ladies all grew slightly uneasy in their movements—except for one girl seated to the right of the Empress, who remained composed and utterly unruffled.

Huang Zixiang’s eyes settled on Empress Wang. Dressed in red robes adorned with cloud and mist patterns, she was extraordinarily beautiful, with sharp, clear phoenix eyes that tilted slightly upward. There was a radiance about her, as if light emanated from within—truly dazzling. She was the second empress from the Langya Wang family, summoned to the palace and installed as empress after her elder sister’s passing. Though she should have been around twenty-five or twenty-six, she looked barely past twenty.

The hall was filled with women, each meticulously adorned in splendid attire, clustered around the banquet like blooming flowers. Yet none could detract even the slightest from Empress Wang’s brilliance. Huang Zixiang marveled, recalling how three years ago, when she had first entered the palace to pay respects to the Empress, she had been but a child who knew nothing of what it meant to topple cities with beauty. Now, with age, she finally understood—the allure of a true beauty could indeed reach such heights.

The girl beside Empress Wang was likely her cousin, Wang Ruo, also of the Langya Wang family. Though seated together, the two cousins bore no resemblance. True to their names, Empress Wang, whose given name was Wang Shao, was like a peony or herbaceous peony in her brocaded crimson robes—noble and incomparably resplendent. In contrast, Wang Ruo wore a lotus-root-colored ruqun today, exuding the delicate charm of peach and plum blossoms. Though she could not match the Empress in beauty or bearing, her youth and innocence lent her a captivating charm.

Beyond these two, the other women, though not lacking, paled in comparison. Huang Zixiang spotted a girl in a moonlit skirt of Xiangfei pink, her cheeks slightly plump, with almond-shaped eyes that were quite lovely. Yet her chin was always slightly raised, giving her an air of distinction—and with it, an innate arrogance. Huang Zixiang thought, This must be Princess Qile, the one everyone in the capital says is desperate to marry Prince Kui. With Grand Consort Zhao currently managing palace affairs, it was said the princess had even bribed palace maids to let her assist in copying scriptures for the Grand Consort, all in hopes of being betrothed to Prince Kui—though, alas, it had come to nothing.

As Huang Zixiang mused, she saw Li Shubai beckon the chief palace maid, Changling, and point at Wang Ruo, saying, "Her."

Even Huang Zixiang was taken aback—this was far too hasty. How could he decide on a lifelong partner with just a glance? But all she could say was, "Does Your Highness not wish to reconsider?"

Li Shubai’s tone was indifferent. "It’s merely choosing someone to spend my life with from a group of people I know nothing about. What is there to consider?"

"But surely the woman Your Highness selects must have something unique about her."

He glanced at her sidelong, the corner of his lips quirking slightly as if in a smile, though his eyes held no joy. "Indeed," he said coolly. "Among all the candidates, she is the most beautiful."