The Golden Hairpin

Huang Zixiao nodded silently, but the emperor behind her angrily interrupted her questioning, "Enough of these pointless questions! First, confess in detail how you murdered the princess!"

Lü Zhiyuan lowered his head and said, "I took the fake Nine Phoenix Hairpin and secretly hid outside the princess's residence, following her to Pingkang Lane. When the princess was blocked on the road and got out of her carriage, I successfully lured her over. Amid the chaos, I took her to a secluded spot and confessed to her that I had killed the eunuch from her household and that scoundrel Sun Laizi. I told her my daughter was innocent and begged her to save Dicui. But she didn’t even glance at me, just sneered at the weeds on the ground. I knelt and pleaded desperately, begging her to have the Dali Temple release Dicui. But the princess was in a foul mood and only told us both to prepare for death. She said... she said, not only will you die, but your daughter won’t live either!"

As the emperor listened to his account of Princess Tongchang’s final moments, he sat in his chair, his mind conjuring the image of his daughter—reckless, proud, and willful. Her sharp, delicate features were like the thinnest icicle, yet so stubborn and unyielding.

The emperor felt a pain in his chest so intense he could barely breathe. Gripping the armrests of his chair, he glared at Lü Zhiyuan but couldn’t utter a single word.

"At that moment, I was terrified. If the princess left, both Dicui and I would die... I had already killed two enemies, and I’m old—death means nothing to me. But Dicui... Dicui is so young, like a freshly bloomed flower bud. How could she die with me?" Here, Lü Zhiyuan finally broke his earlier silence and restraint. He struck his chest with his fist, as if trying to cough up blood. "At that moment, it suddenly occurred to me... two people involved in this had already died... If the princess died too, wouldn’t that prove Dicui, who was in the Dali Temple... was innocent?"

In the silent hall, Lü Zhiyuan’s voice was hoarse and dry, leaving everyone at a loss for words.

"So, I... caught up to her and drove the hairpin’s tip into her heart..."

Imperial Consort Guo let out a scream of madness, nearly lunging forward. The eunuchs and maids beside her hurriedly restrained her, but they couldn’t stop her wails of grief. "Your Majesty, Linghui... Linghui died at the hands of such a vile man! Your Majesty..."

The emperor sat in his chair as if deaf and blind, overwhelmed by immense sorrow, unable to move.

Huang Zixiao said quietly, "Lü Zhiyuan, all of Chang’an says you despised your daughter, drove her from your home, and were greedy and shameless... But I know all of it was just to protect Dicui. In truth, from the moment she was violated by Sun Laizi, you had already resolved to take revenge. Wei Ximin was a eunuch of the princess’s household, and the princess’s residence was determined to shield him. You knew you couldn’t rely on the authorities—your only option was to take matters into your own hands and kill them yourself."Her gaze lingered on Zhang Xingying, whose eyes were wide with disbelief and face pale with despair, before she continued, "But you knew that if this were exposed, not only would you die, your daughter would also be implicated—either executed or exiled. So the moment you resolved to kill, you drove Dicui away. You threw her a rope, forcing her to seek death, but in truth, you wanted to publicly sever ties with her, to let her escape far away and avoid being implicated. Yet I suspect you secretly followed her—otherwise, how could you have coincidentally found Zhang Xingying’s house and been discovered by Dicui?"

Lü Zhiyuan clenched his teeth and muttered, "I... I sneaked to the Zhang residence to see her a few times. Though I was careful, Dicui still noticed me once... So I claimed I was there to demand the betrothal gifts, thinking the Zhang family couldn’t possibly gather that much money, hoping Dicui would leave the capital for her own safety. Who knew she’d be so foolish, truly believing I was a heartless father? She even stole one of the Zhang family’s paintings to give me, saying it was worth ten strings of coins. I told her it wasn’t, but she insisted, saying it depicted three ways to die. When I saw the first method—death by heavenly lightning—I immediately thought of Wei Ximin, whom I had just killed. Then, when I heard Sun Laizi had shut himself indoors, the second painting inspired me. No matter how sealed a cage is, there are always gaps, and my old skills from the crossbow unit came in handy. As for the third..."

His voice trailed off, too hoarse to continue.

"What happened to Dicui... we all pity her. But the princess was merely an unwitting bystander, and Qian Guansuo and his family were entirely innocent. Dragging them into this was inexcusable," Huang Zixiao sighed. "What I admire most is how convincingly you deceived everyone—not just us, but even your own daughter."

"Perhaps... because I truly was unkind to Dicui," he rasped, his gaze fixed on an empty spot in the air as if his daughter stood before him. Like a dying man clinging to his last possession, he measured her illusory face with his eyes, inch by inch. Huang Zixiao heard his murmur, dreamlike and distant: "From the moment she was born, I disliked this daughter... She was premature. Chunniang died of hemorrhage after giving birth to her. I could only sit by the bed, holding the newborn, watching Chunniang’s face turn pale, then slowly gray..."

Back then, he had stared down at the wailing infant in his arms—this wrinkled little creature who had taken his wife from him. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to hurl her to the ground if it would bring Chunniang back.

But she was so small, that premature child, lying in the crook of his arm like a kitten, her red, crumpled face as ugly and fragile as a frog’s. And so he could only hold her tighter, burying his face in her swaddling clothes, and weep.He grew up in poverty and spent ten years as a soldier. It wasn't until his thirties that he met Chunniang, the only woman willing to marry him. Their marriage was happy, but Chunniang never conceived. They prayed at temples far and wide until finally, this child arrived—only to take away the person he thought would accompany him to old age.

What made it worse was that the child was a girl.

A boy could be left in the grass to grow up. When he was older, you could take him fishing in the river or hunting birds in the mountains. Someone would share a jug of wine with you, work alongside you with shared strength, blood boiling with the same fire—that was a son. One day, he might grow even taller and sturdier than you.

But all he had was a daughter, as delicate as a rosebud that could snap in the spring breeze. He had to ask Aunt Wu next door to help bathe her, shamefully washing her urine-soaked pants, clumsily braiding her hair into ugly pigtails... She grew day by day, from an ugly premature infant resembling a skinned frog into a graceful and beautiful young woman. This only deepened his worry—who would eventually pluck this rosebud and plant her in someone else's pot? Once that happened, whether she bloomed or withered, he could no longer protect her.

Why did Chunniang have to give him a daughter? All that remained for him was the certainty of growing old alone. His temper grew worse; he lashed out more often at his obedient daughter, envied more deeply those families with sons.

Seventeen years—a single father raising a child, nurturing that less-than-four-pound lump of flesh into a beautiful, capable, and caring young woman. No outsider could imagine the hardship of those years. He had stayed up night after night watching over feverish Dicui; he had waited at the street corner to catch her coming home from outings with others, scolding her harshly; he had even talked to Chunniang’s grave while clearing weeds, saying, "Our daughter looks so much like you..."

He had once taken in another woman, desperate for a son, but when she secretly mistreated Dicui, he couldn’t bear it. In a drunken rage, he drove her away. By then, he was already past fifty and finally gave up. Maybe this was his fate—to live alone, die alone, and let Dicui bury him beside Chunniang, ending his life in quiet insignificance.

Time flew. In the blink of an eye, the babbling little girl who called him "Daddy" had become a young woman who wore white orchids in her hair, graceful and radiant. Young men often visited his shop under the pretense of buying incense, just to catch a glimpse of her.

At the time, he felt both joy and unease. He turned away one matchmaker after another, convinced no man in the world was good enough for his daughter.

Yet he never imagined that his always-smiling daughter would meet the cruelest fate simply by delivering incense to the princess's mansion.

The scoundrel Sun spread the scandal far and wide, and soon all of Chang'an was gossiping about Dicui’s misfortune. She secretly hid an incense spike, intending to confront Sun, but he caught her in time, snatched it away, and slapped her.

It was the only time he ever struck her after she grew up.

No one knew that, in that moment, he had already made up his mind.He wanted to protect his daughter; he wanted to repay blood with blood, to wash away the shame that burdened Dicui; he wanted to dispel her nightmares and let her live again.

"Why? Just because she's the emperor's daughter, in a bad mood, she can casually manipulate my daughter's fate and cast her into hell?" Lü Zhiyuan's turbid tears rolled down his wrinkled cheeks, dripping onto the blue brick floor. As if talking to himself, he murmured in an extremely low voice, "Seventeen years... I spent seventeen years raising my daughter from a tiny infant to such a fine young woman... She's the only child I have in this lifetime. I'm just a lowly craftsman—I couldn't give her noble lineage, overwhelming power, or boundless wealth... But even if it costs me my life, I will make sure my daughter lives on!"

Huang Zixiao felt a surge of warm blood rushing in her chest, making her eyes burn with pain. She fought back tears, but couldn't stop the image of her own father from surfacing in her mind.

Back in Yizhou, after being scolded by her father, she had stubbornly refused to eat. When her mother brought over a bowl of soup noodles to coax her, she turned her head away—only to catch her father hiding under the tree in the courtyard, secretly watching her.

The moment she spotted him, her father immediately averted his gaze, pretending he was just passing by, and strode with measured steps toward the depths of the courtyard.

She still remembered how the sunlight cast the tree's shadow onto her father's body, the clear stripes of light and dark. At the time, she hadn't paid it any mind, but now, the memory was vivid—as if those shadows weren't just on his clothes, but etched in blood onto her heart.

She didn't know how long she had been lost in thought when Li Shulang gently nudged her, snapping her back to reality.

Lü Zhiyuan still knelt in the hall, now shackled by the guards.

Cui Chunzhan, seated at the bench, struck the magistrate's block, then paused before asking, "Prisoner kneeling below, the evidence of your crimes—the murders of Princess Tongchang, the palace eunuch Wei Ximin, and Sun Laizi of Daning Lane—is irrefutable, with both witnesses and material proof present. Do you confess?"

"Yes," he answered firmly and clearly.

Cui Chunzhan glanced toward the back hall, where the emperor sat unmoving despite his heaving chest, then turned back to Lü Zhiyuan. "Do you have any final words?"

Lü Zhiyuan remained silent for a moment.

Standing diagonally behind him, Zhang Xingying widened his eyes, hoping Lü Zhiyuan would turn and entrust Dicui's care to him.

But no—in the end, Lü Zhiyuan only shook his head in silence.

Cui Chunzhan looked to the emperor again. The emperor's face remained ashen, but his breathing had steadied. His lips moved slightly as he uttered four words to Cui Chunzhan: "Lingchi execution."

Before Cui Chunzhan could react, a heavy thud echoed through the hall—Lü Zhiyuan's face had turned purplish-black as he collapsed onto the floor.

Amid the chaos and exclamations, Zhou Ziqin was the first to rush forward, checking for breath before prying open Lü Zhiyuan's mouth. He froze.

Huang Zixiao hurriedly asked, "What happened?"

"He must have hidden a poison wax pill in his mouth earlier. He bit into it at some point—now... it's too late. The poison has taken effect."

Kneeling silently, Huang Zixiao stared at his darkened face, speechless.Zhou Ziqin glanced at her and murmured, "Very well."

She sighed, stood up, and reported back to the emperor. The emperor's hands gripped the armrests tightly, veins bulging, as he roared in fury, "Dead? Just like that? How can this quench the hatred in my heart!"

Consort Guo sobbed, "Your Majesty, doesn't he have a daughter? Such a villain... must not be allowed to rest in peace even in death!"

The emperor demanded sharply, "Where is his daughter? Since he escaped, his daughter shall suffer the death of a thousand cuts in his stead!"

Zhou Ziqin was so startled he nearly jumped up, but Huang Zixia swiftly grabbed his arm, signaling him to stay still.

"Your Majesty..." Cui Chungan said, trembling with fear, "The one who fainted earlier and was carried out by your order... was his daughter, Lü Dicui."

Only then did the emperor recall the earlier incident. Furious yet unable to vent his rage—since it was his own decree—he could only slam his sleeve down and bellow, "Search immediately! Turn the entire capital upside down if you must, but find her!"