The Golden Hairpin

Huang Zixiang used the hairpin to sift through all the events of that day once more, then wiped it clean and slowly slid it back into the silver hairpin case. She said, "It seems your recollection of that day is much clearer than mine. From noon until the next morning, I was often alone, making it difficult to find anyone to vouch for me."

Yu Xuan lowered his eyes and remained silent.

"It seems... my suspicion is truly great," she murmured, biting her lower lip as she stood up and wiped away everything she had drawn on the ground with her foot.

Yu Xuan said slowly, "The greatest among all."

Huang Zixiang stared at the smudged ashes on the ground, silent for a long while before finally speaking. "Even if all the evidence points to me, even if you too believe I am the murderer—I will prove to you that no matter what, Huang Zixiang is innocent. My parents, my elder brother, my grandmother, my uncle—they can all rest peacefully in the afterlife!"

A pot of yam and chicken soup had finished stewing, its rich aroma filling the air.

She washed a wooden bowl, ladled it full, and carried it to the side hall.

Yu Xuan spoke from behind her, "I'll take my leave first."

Huang Zixiang turned to look at him, silent.

He gazed at her—he stood in the dim kitchen while she stood under the bright corridor. The sunlight was so glaring she could barely make out his face, only seeing his eyes, as clear and distinct as two black obsidian stones resting in liquid mercury, just like in the past.

He said, "You now have to care for the injured Prince Kui. My presence would only be inconvenient for you both. I won't disturb you further."

She lowered her eyes and said, "Perhaps we could return together."

Yu Xuan widened his eyes in surprise, stepping out of the dark room. "You... you're leaving with me now? What about Prince Kui?"

Silently holding the bowl of soup, she looked at him and said, "I meant, perhaps you could wait a few days. Once Prince Kui recovers a little, the three of us... could leave together."

The light in his eyes dimmed. He turned his face away, gazing at the distant rolling mountains, and said, "Prince Kui and I have no connection. And you know my humble origins—I dare not presume to associate with such people."

Huang Zixiang was taken aback by his sudden intensity, momentarily stunned.

Seeing her surprise, he seemed to recall something from before. After a long hesitation, he finally spoke again. "Princess Tongchang and I... there's nothing between us."

Huang Zixiang nodded. She wanted to ask more but ultimately pressed her lips together, lowering her lashes as she turned away.

Then she heard him murmur, "With you, with him, with anyone—there's no connection."

She couldn't hold back any longer. "What about Consort Guo?"

He froze, lifting his head sharply to look at her.

The words were already out, and she felt no regret. She only said, "'At this moment we gaze but hear no sound—would that I might chase the moonlight to shine upon you.'"

Yu Xuan was utterly astonished, stammering for a long while before finally saying, "Yes... she once wrote me a letter with that line of poetry. But between her and me, there truly is nothing."

Huang Zixiang said softly, "I also believe you wouldn't casually involve yourself with others.""I was temporarily appointed as an instructor at the Imperial Academy when I first encountered Princess Tongchang and Consort Guo during the Spring Outing on the third day of the third month. A sudden downpour caught them unprepared—they had no umbrellas, and their maids could only shield them with their outer robes. Passing by, unaware of their identities, I offered them my own umbrella..." He sighed softly. "Little did I know that days later, during one of my lectures, Princess Tongchang would suddenly appear..."

The guards cleared the way through the students as Princess Tongchang, accompanied by several maids, strode straight to the front row. With just a glance from her, the seated scholars hastily gathered their books and retreated to the back.

Unperturbed by the commotion, the princess settled herself in the front row.

The tranquil lecture hall was abruptly disrupted by the intrusion of guards and maids, not to mention a princess lounging in the front row, chin in hand. Unable to ignore the disturbance, Yu Xuan paused his lecture and asked, "To what do we owe this unannounced visit?"

Princess Tongchang studied him with a smile, her expression inscrutable. "Instructor Yu, have you forgotten me?"

Only then, noticing the attire of her maids, did he recall the woman to whom he had lent his umbrella.

The Chancellor of the Imperial Academy entered with a pained expression, apologizing profusely. "If anyone at the Imperial Academy has offended Your Highness, please inform us. We will ensure justice is served to your satisfaction."

"Is that so?" Princess Tongchang's sharp phoenix eyes swept from Yu Xuan to the Chancellor before her hand rose, pointing directly at Yu Xuan, a peculiar smile playing on her lips. "This man here—he’s utterly insufferable."

The Chancellor was stunned. "He’s a scholar from Shu, newly arrived in the capital. He’s only been lecturing for a few days on miscellaneous topics. How could he possibly have offended Your Highness?"

"What do you think?" She stood and circled Yu Xuan, eyeing his upright posture before her smile turned mischievous. "Lately, I’ve taken an interest in learning, but the tutors I’ve found are all old men—so dull they make me reluctant to even open a book. Yet your Imperial Academy hides such a charming and eloquent instructor, keeping him from me. Don’t you think both the Academy and this young instructor deserve punishment?"

The Chancellor’s face, already strained, now looked as if he had swallowed bitter herbs. He hastily agreed and urged Yu Xuan to accept the task.

Unaware she was Princess Tongchang, Yu Xuan initially resisted her forceful invitation. But soon, the princess upended his life. Guards from her estate barred students from attending his lectures, and even the Chancellor and other officials found their meetings disrupted by noise. Eventually, the faculty and students alike complained, pressuring him to comply. Reluctantly, he gathered his books and entered the princess’s estate.

At first, he wondered why Consort Guo always attended his lectures for the princess. But his curiosity faded when, one day at the estate gates, he encountered the princess’s husband, Wei Baoheng.Princess Tongchang had forcefully summoned him to her residence to lecture, a matter that had already stirred up a storm throughout the capital. Yet, contrary to his expectations, Wei Baoheng paid him no mind and even sought his advice on some interpretations of the Rites of Zhou, claiming that the princess's recent scholarly progress had left him struggling to understand her words and requesting clarification. He conversed with ease and smiles until someone from the Zhijin Garden came to inform him that the princess had been waiting for him for quite some time. Hastily bidding farewell to the imperial son-in-law, he was led away by a maid from the Suwei Garden.

Within the Zhijin Garden, beyond the banana trees and by the pond, the winding bridge meandered. He faintly overheard the whispers between Princess Tongchang and Consort Guo, indistinct and elusive. The bridge twisted and turned; though he could hear their voices clearly, he remained on the path, never quite reaching the entrance.

"Mother, these are troubled times. The matter of that person in the Taiji Palace remains unresolved. Why must you stir up more trouble now?"

"What are you afraid of? Ever since that person entered the Taiji Palace, your father has been displeased every day. These past few days, he has even suspended court affairs and retreated to the Jianbi Palace. It's said five hundred common maidens have been newly selected there, all awaiting him."

"What worries you, Mother? Even if there were fifty thousand, none could rival that person's beauty. Yet Father still cast her aside, not you."

"Do you also believe this was my doing? In truth, I myself don’t know what happened. Why would the Emperor suddenly send her to the Taiji Palace to recuperate? I wonder... could she truly have fallen ill from the shock of her niece’s death?"

"Regardless, it remains favorable for you, Mother. Perhaps your lifelong hopes hinge on this moment."

"Yes... At such a critical juncture, perhaps I should focus my efforts within the palace. But Linghui, in truth, I harbor no grand expectations. The palace is filled with eyes and ears, and my maids and guards follow me closely at all times. Meeting him once every five days is already improper—what more could I do? Besides, he’s even younger than you. What could this withered body of mine possibly hope for?" Here, she sighed softly, her voice growing even more hoarse. "Linghui, I’ve clung to your father for over twenty years, yet I’ve always been but a walking corpse. I know I have no fate with him—in this life, we are destined to gaze but never hear each other. Yet I only wish... to see him once more, to hear his voice again, even if just for a moment..."

The maid who had led him there paled instantly upon hearing this, realizing she had inadvertently stumbled upon a terrifying secret. She halted and turned to him with a pleading look.

He, too, was stunned beyond measure. Seeing the bridge was about to end and they would soon reach the entrance, he quickly nodded at the maid, signaling her to leave at once.

But her hurried steps were too loud, alerting Princess Tongchang to their presence. The princess suddenly rose and stepped to the pavilion’s entrance, where she spotted him on the bridge and the maid hastening away.

Princess Tongchang’s face also drained of color. She sharply called out, "Doukou!"

The maid, around thirty years old, bore the incongruously youthful name "Doukou" (Cardamom). But he hardly dwelled on it, his mind reeling in confusion. He had thought Princess Tongchang would be difficult to handle, but now, discovering it was Consort Guo who harbored feelings for him, he was utterly shocked, his thoughts in turmoil.He stopped at the curved bridge and saw the pavilion half-hidden by banana leaves. By the window, on a long table, Consort Guo was putting down her brush, crumpling a sheet of paper in her hand before tossing it to the ground.

Standing on the bridge, he bowed toward them, then turned and left in silence.

The maid named Doukou hurried after him, but just as they reached the gate, Princess Tongchang caught up with them, and Doukou was taken back.

As if by unspoken agreement, none of the three ever mentioned the incident again. That same day, after returning, he submitted his resignation to the Imperial Academy and prepared to return to Shu Commandery.

Later, at the princess's residence, he heard that Zhijin Garden had been sealed off—and that it was because a maid named Doukou had died inside, claimed by a vengeful spirit.

One of his deepest regrets in the capital was not telling the maid Doukou to leave when they stood at Zhijin Garden's gate. Though this Doukou was a stranger to him, older in age and unremarkable in appearance, he couldn't shake the feeling that her death was his fault.

Later, as he was leaving the capital, he encountered a woman named Dicui. The panic in her expression suddenly reminded him of Doukou.

So he deceived the guards and saved her.

Dicui escaped, Princess Tongchang died, and he left the capital far behind. It seemed as though everything had come to an end. Yet now, the words from Huang Zixiao's mouth made him realize this matter would never be resolved, never truly over.

His mind in turmoil, he gazed at Huang Zixiao before him. After a long silence, he finally murmured, "Whether you believe me or not, I've always..."

But what he had always done, he couldn't bring himself to say.

He simply retreated slowly back into the dark kitchen, watching as Huang Zixiao—worried the chicken soup would grow cold—hurried away with the bowl in hand.