The Golden Hairpin

Everyone gasped in unison, frozen in place, disbelief and overwhelming joy mingling together as silence stretched on unbroken.

The courtyard fell into a momentary hush.

Only Ling Hui kept murmuring, "We'll live, we'll live!"

"Now... I truly get to live!" Prince Yun scooped up his daughter in his arms, planting two fervent kisses on her cheeks. Over twenty years of pent-up anxiety dissipated in an instant, bringing tears to his eyes.

Wang Shao approached him and curtsied gracefully. "Congratulations, Your Majesty."

"A Shao..." He set the child down and grasped her hand hastily. "I must go to the palace now. I leave the household in your hands... and soon, the palace affairs will also require your attention."

"Your Majesty need not worry."

Without packing a single belonging, Prince Yun turned and departed immediately.

Guo Wan stood at the doorway, her face ashen, yet no one noticed her. While the entire Prince Yun residence reveled in celebration, she alone remained dazed and despondent.

Wang Shao gazed at her and said gently, "Go prepare your belongings quickly. We'll be entering the palace soon... Consort Guo."

Guo Wan turned stiffly, forcing out hoarse words, "What did you... call me?"

Wang Shao smiled faintly, her expression as gentle and harmless as ever. Yet for the first time, Guo Wan realized Wang Shao stood slightly taller, making her gaze naturally assume a subtly superior angle.

"You've stayed by His Majesty's side the longest. Naturally, you deserve a position."

"You... you..." Guo Wan trembled violently as she took in Wang Shao's composed demeanor, her eyes filled with terror. "Could you truly... willingly let me remain by His Highness's side?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Wang Shao chuckled, casting her one final glance. "After all, I should thank you."

Had Guo Wan not schemed with ghostly tricks to frighten others, how could Wang Shao have turned the situation to her advantage, clearing suspicions about her second pregnancy during childbirth? She endured ten grueling months precisely not to accumulate virtue for her child, but to have this contingency prepared should crisis strike.

Moreover, she cared little about Guo Wan retaining a place by Prince Yun's side. At the very least, a woman whose every escape route she'd severed posed no threat whatsoever.

What pleased Wang Shao most was this: she didn't love that man. Therefore, she could remain detached, manipulating everything to her benefit while remaining unscathed.

Whether as a prince's concubine, a palace consort, an imperial noble, or the empress—these were merely means for her survival in this world.

Her life now consisted of playing suitable roles to perfection, living in magnificent splendor.

Her existence had reached its most joyful fulfillment.

Her life had unfolded exactly as designed, without the slightest deviation.

She became empress, a maternal model for the realm, navigating the harem's intrigues for years with unflappable composure.

The emperor and empress appeared the picture of marital bliss, their perfection unquestionable.

Years later, the former Prince Yun—now emperor—once asked her: "Play the pipa for me, A Shao?"

"That song from when we first met."

Dressed in resplendent robes, seated on the palace's carpeted floor, she shook her head with a smile. "I never liked the pipa to begin with. Besides, having not played for years, I've grown quite rusty."

The emperor looked surprised. "What do you mean you didn't like it? I remember your pipa performance that day being celestial music rarely heard in this mortal world!"

She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze with a smile. "Your Majesty simply loves the crow for the sake of the tree, no? Was my playing truly that good that day?""Was I merely intoxicated by joy rather than bewitched by beauty?" Seeing her question, the emperor recalled that day's scene, yet could only clearly remember her smile as she held the pipa and gazed at him. Thus he too grew somewhat confused and could only jest, "In any case, what I say is good, is good."

Her neck bowed low as she looked at her own hands, smiling without a word.

From the moment she left Cheng Jingxiu and Xue Se, she never touched any musical instrument again.

She forced the marks of those days and nights practicing the pipa to vanish from her hands. Now, these hands were delicate and soft, with skin like jade, bearing no remaining traces.

No one knew that many years ago beneath a solitary lamp in the moonlight, she had played those crystalline melodies through the night, spending the most beautiful years of her youth to earn the reputation of one pipa song surpassing a hundred bewitching dances.

No one knew that once a man had held her hairpin in the night rain, standing before the roses until dawn. Those eyes that had stayed awake all night suddenly brightened the moment they saw her.

No one knew she once had a daughter named Xue Se, like a speck of fine snow nestled within plum blossom stamens, afraid the sunlight would melt her away.

Save for the moon in the sky, none knew.