The Golden Hairpin

Suddenly, she remembered—four years ago, it seemed to be around this same season. She had been barefoot by the lotus pond, picking buds, when she heard her father calling her. Turning around, she saw Yu Xuan standing quietly behind her father, bathed in the golden-purple hues of the setting sun.

That one fleeting glance of his, filled with warmth, had changed her life forever.

Now, she suddenly felt weak. She let herself sink onto the bank, staring blankly at the water, lost in thought.

Back then, her father had brought Yu Xuan home and told her he was an orphan, bereft of both parents, surviving in a dilapidated temple. A former classmate of her father’s, who ran a school, had noticed a beggar boy often listening outside the window. When questioned, Yu Xuan answered fluently, astonishing everyone. Asked how he had learned to read, he explained that he had once found a few pages of paper—someone told him it was the Thousand Character Classic . Coincidentally, the teacher at the school had just begun teaching it, so he matched the characters on the paper to the teacher’s recitation, memorizing them by rote. After mastering the Thousand Character Classic , he scavenged discarded books, piecing together the Four Books and Five Classics from the few characters he knew. The scholar, amazed, mentioned this to Huang’s father, who sought Yu Xuan out and, struck by his talent, brought him home.

Yes, Yu Xuan—who wouldn’t pity such a boy, fallen into the dust?

Huang Zixiang sat on the steps, burying her face in her knees, silently watching the lotus leaves swaying in the night breeze.

The evening wind grew cooler as night descended. The rustling leaves rippled like waves.

Her heart, too, rose and fell on those waves, restless.

Yu Xuan had said, I’ll wait for you in Yizhou.

But the one who had promised to take her there—he must be angry now.

Very angry.

She couldn’t help but sigh softly.

Though she knew Li Shubai would never break his promise to her because of this, she didn’t want to make him unhappy on her account.

Because…

She thought of what he had once told her: A fish’s memory lasts only seven snaps of the fingers. Whether you treat it well or ill, after seven snaps, it will forget everything you’ve done.

But she wasn’t a fish that forgot others in seven snaps.

She should have told him then—she wasn’t a fish. Even after seven months, seven years, or seventy years, she could never forget those who had left indelible marks on her heart.

Lost in thought, she brought her finger to her mouth and bit down hard.

“Agashini love human blood. I’ve heard Prince Kui keeps such a fish—Eunuch Yang, you may share this secret with him.”

In the Tai Chi Palace, that man—Wang Zongshi—had once said this to her.

Her finger broke skin, and a drop of crimson blood welled up, falling into the water at her feet.

The sky had darkened, the horizon a deep purple. In the last glimmer of light, she futilely tried to lure the little fish back.

The blood dispersed in the water, dissolving into nothingness.

After waiting a while and seeing no movement on the surface, she squeezed the wound again, letting two more drops fall onto the water.

The crimson melted into the shimmering ripples, vanishing without a trace.

“What are you doing?” A clear, cold voice came from behind her.She didn't look back at Li Shubai, only gazing down at the water's surface as she murmured, "I want to see if the little fish is still around here."

"Even if it's still beneath this water, do you think the scent of your blood would make it emerge?" Li Shubai asked coldly.

She didn't bother answering because in the dim twilight, she saw the small fish emerge from behind a lotus root, tentatively swimming toward her.

It had indeed been hiding nearby.

Huang Zixiang gently dipped her hand into the water. The blood from her wound formed a delicate thread that rippled briefly before dissolving into nothingness.

As if drawn by that invisible thread, the little fish swam toward her hand.

She slowly raised her hand, then just as it was about to break the surface, suddenly closed her fingers, trapping the fish in her palm once more.

Delighted, she turned to him with the fish cradled in her hands and called out, "Quick, bring something to hold it."

In the last remnants of daylight, the radiance of her smile was so dazzling that it momentarily stunned Li Shubai.

Silently, he handed her the bronze jue cup, into which she placed the little fish.

Holding up her still-dripping hand, she glanced down at the fish. Inside the ancient greenish-bronze vessel, it darted about frantically at first, but soon began swimming leisurely, growing accustomed to its new surroundings.

Her fingers hovered above the water as she teased the fish, saying, "That was close—you almost got away."

"How did you know it's attracted to the scent of blood?" Li Shubai asked in a low voice, watching her smiling profile.

Huang Zixiang looked up earnestly. "Eunuch Wang told me—Wang Zongshi."

Li Shubai frowned involuntarily. "How do you know him?"

"I met him twice in Taiqi Palace. On the day Princess Tongchang died, my hands were stained with her blood. Eunuch Wang pressed them into his fish tank, and the little fish immediately licked it clean..." As she spoke, she couldn't shake off the creeping sense of revulsion, feeling goosebumps rise on her skin.

After a long silence, Li Shubai took the bronze jue and stared quietly at the small fish inside. "I've kept this fish for ten years."

Huang Zixiang was slightly taken aback. "Ten years?"

After ten years, it was still so tiny—and somehow still alive.

"Yes, ten years. On the day my father passed away, guess where I found it?" Li Shubai lifted his gaze to meet hers, his eyes meaningful. "In the blood my father coughed up—it was still alive, wriggling in the blood. At the time, I was holding a bowl of cool water, using a cloth to moisten my father's lips. But then young Prince Zhao picked up the little fish from the blood and tossed it into my bowl."

As he spoke, his gaze grew distant, as if seeing through ten years to his younger, orphaned self.

"I left that bowl on the windowsill. It wasn't until after my father's death, when the Emperor ascended the throne and I was about to leave Daming Palace, that I remembered the fish. I went to my father's chambers to check the windowsill and found it unharmed, still swimming around in that bowl, oblivious and carefree. Everything that happened in the human world meant nothing to it. Even if heaven and earth collapsed, all it needed was a shallow bowl of water to keep living as usual."Li Shubai tilted the bronze goblet slightly, the patina turning the water within a deep emerald green, while the bright red fish stood out vividly against it.

"I took it out of the palace to my own residence. Ten years—from Prince Kui to Prince Tong and back to Prince Kui—from an ignorant youth to where I am now. Yet, I never imagined that the one thing that would stay with me the longest would be this little fish." He gazed silently at the fish in the water, a creature that forgets everything in seven snaps of the fingers, living so carefree and happy.

Unaware, and thus untroubled.

Huang Zixiang watched the fish with him and said softly, "I heard... the late emperor passed away shortly after mistakenly consuming elixirs."

"Yes." Li Shubai, who had always been indifferent to everything around him, finally let out a faint sigh. He looked up at her, his eyes deep and shadowed. "Why did my father vomit this fish when he passed? This mystery has haunted me for ten years. Just like that impossible curse, it has consumed all my thoughts, leaving me restless day and night. And now... suddenly, there's that unfinished painting of my father's, with three inexplicable ink blots."

Huang Zixiang lowered her gaze to the scars on her fingers and murmured, "Wang Zongshi also has an Agashenie."

"He lives in seclusion, rarely interacting with others, but he enjoys keeping fish, especially rare breeds. It’s not strange for him to have an Agashenie."

Li Shubai stood up, placing the bronze goblet on the shelf, and said slowly, "Wang Zongshi was by the late emperor’s side when he passed."

Huang Zixiang knew his thoughts aligned with hers, but she didn’t voice them. After all, some things shouldn’t be speculated upon, even in private.

Li Shubai glanced at the sky outside and changed the subject. "What are your plans for the Dali Court tomorrow?"

She looked at him solemnly and said, "I’d like to ask Your Highness one thing first."

He didn’t inquire further, merely turning his head slightly to glance at her.

"If someone bailed out by the Prince Kui’s residence were to escape, what trouble would it cause?"

Li Shubai smiled faintly at her cautious and worried expression.

"If I didn’t intend for her to escape, why would I have bailed her out in the first place?"

This offhand remark made Huang Zixiang’s eyes widen in shock and excitement as she stared at him.

And on his face, that rare smile was like the clear May sky emerging after the scattering of storm clouds. Though fleeting, it left her momentarily dazed, rooted to the spot.

"Still, such a trivial matter could easily be avoided with a little maneuvering. No need to bring trouble upon yourself," he added.

Huang Zixiang didn’t bother asking his method and instead asked, "Your Highness... already knows who the murderer is?"

"I have a guess, but some minor details don’t align yet. Consider it half-solved. And you?"

The corners of her lips curled into a bright smile. "Everything."

Li Shubai looked at her in astonishment, momentarily lost. "The three unsolved cases, the late emperor’s unfinished painting, how the illusion of divine punishment was created, each person’s motive... you’ve figured it all out?"

"Yes." She nodded, confident and unwavering. "This case is already closed."