The Golden Hairpin

On a spring afternoon heavy with impending rain, Wang Shao entered the Prince of Yun’s residence.

The oppressive, damp air foretold the coming storm. Wang Lin asked if she needed a personal attendant, but she declined. She had long prepared herself to face an uncertain future alone and had no need for another person to learn her secrets.

The Prince of Yun’s household already had four concubines—she was the fifth.

Among the four, three wore soft, muted tones—apricot, amber, and iris—while one stood out in a blazing orange robe, strikingly different from the others.

Beyond the jade railings, pomegranate flowers bloomed in fiery profusion, their brilliance undimmed even in the gloomy weather. The woman in orange stood beneath the tree, as vivid as the blossoms.

Wang Shao bowed to them, silently thinking to herself—this must be Guo Wan. The famed beauty of Chang’an, with her radiant youth and twenty flourishing years, the longest-serving concubine by the Prince of Yun’s side.

With a gentle smile, Wang Shao stood before them, demure and obedient, allowing the prince to take her hand. The woman who had illuminated the Prince of Yun’s household for years, from the moment Wang Shao arrived, had already become a fading relic of the past.

The long-pent rain finally began to fall. The first drop landed on Guo Wan’s cheek, and her pupils contracted like a cat’s as she stared at Wang Shao.

The instinctive wariness of a woman who has just met her rival.

“That Lady Guo… she has been with the prince for a long time, hasn’t she?” Wang Shao inquired casually that evening as she removed her makeup.

Yong Ling, who was combing her hair, answered unhurriedly, “Indeed. Among all the concubines in the household, she was the first to be appointed. She grew up in the palace alongside the prince and followed him when he left. Their bond runs deep.”

“My sister… Lady Wang, when she first married into the household, I heard she also lived here?” Wang Shao rose, her long hair loose, and walked to the courtyard, gazing at the small stream.

Yong Ling nodded. “Yes. The prince holds you in high regard, my lady. He specifically arranged for you to reside here, placing you above all others.”

Wang Shao tilted her head slightly, her eyes veiled as she watched the slow-moving water. “I dare not presume such favor,” she murmured. “I am but a newcomer and should humbly take my place behind the other four ladies. Staying here… I feel unworthy.”

“How could you be unworthy? It was my decision to have you here,” a voice chuckled from behind. “And there’s no such thing as first or last—don’t be too meek, or others will take advantage.”

Wang Shao turned and saw the Prince of Yun. She quickly lowered her head in greeting, her lashes fluttering as she smiled without a word.

The prince took her hand and studied her intently. “That day at your home, when I first saw you, I could scarcely believe my eyes,” he said softly. “That such beauty existed in this world… Even now, looking at you, I still find it hard to fathom. The Wang family guarded your existence well—never once did rumors of you reach my ears.”

“I was frail as a child and sent to live in a Daoist temple. I thought… my youth would pass in obscurity,” Wang Shao replied with a faint smile.

“Then it was fate,” the prince said. “You waited all this time… just to become mine.”She nestled against his chest with a smile, swiftly running through all she knew about this man in her mind—Prince Yun, the eldest son of the current emperor, born to a lowly and unfavored mother. Sent away from the Daming Palace in his youth, his future remained uncertain.

Men like him were not uncommon in her past life in Yangzhou. What he needed was a simple, delicate woman who would cling to him for survival—someone who could make him feel triumphant amid his long-standing disappointments.

What did it matter if she had to play a role and live a life of pretense? She didn’t love the man before her anyway. This was merely a means to secure a better life.

So when he pulled her onto the bed, she feigned such shyness that she couldn’t even lift her face. She thought of her younger days, when her master had said, "Wanzhi, your talent for the pipa is the greatest I’ve ever seen." Yet despite her rare gift, she had practiced day and night without rest, knowing it was her lifeline—something she had to cherish.

And now, it was time to cherish the man before her.

As her robes slipped away, she closed her eyes and clung to this stranger, soft and submissive, as if treasuring her chance at rebirth.

Outside the corridor, the rain finally began to fall—gentle, slow, distant, a murmuring drizzle that lingered like unspoken longing.

Amid the swirling mist before her eyes, she saw Cheng Jingxiu again, just as he had been when they first met. He had bowed deeply to her and said, "Miss, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. So, if you would allow me, I’d like to paint your portrait."

Back then, she had been willful and mischievous, assuming he was just another man using an elegant excuse to approach her. She had merely cast him a sidelong glance, plucked a hairpin she had long grown tired of from her hair, and tossed it into the river beside her. "If you can retrieve this pin for me," she had said.

Under the sunlight, he had gazed at her with a helpless, indulgent smile.

She still remembered that day—how the rain had begun just like this. Worried that the roses in the courtyard would be battered by the downpour, she had risen early the next morning. And there, beneath the roses, stood Cheng Jingxiu, drenched from head to toe, holding her hairpin in his hands.

Life was strange. If she had never seen him that day—disheveled beneath the roses, his eyes the only clear thing about him—would she still be in Yangzhou now, playing the pipa in the Yunshao Pavilion, letting her youth slip away like a flower unnoticed?

Everything seemed to dissolve into dust, vanishing in an instant.

All that remained was her, arching beneath another man, shedding silent tears as he held her close, like a fragile blossom unable to withstand the night’s storm. The pigeon’s blood hidden in the wax pill stained her fine robes, blooming in crimson drops. The pain in her chest and the self-loathing rising within her made her sick.

When it was finally over, she lay alone in the silent night, eyes open, listening to the rain outside as if each drop struck her heart.

Wang Lin had told her that Cheng Jingxiu had already left the capital with Xue Se. He had always been a kind and gentle man. Knowing he would only be a burden to her, he had buried his feelings deep and walked away.For a moment, she felt she had wronged him. But then she thought, hadn’t he wronged her just the same? Over these years, it was simply two people who should never have been together, wasting each other’s youth, only to realize in the end that neither could give the other what they truly desired.

In this world, the only person she had truly wronged was her Xue Se.

Xue Se… Xue Se.

Soft, tiny, a piece of flesh that had fallen from her, like a delicate snowflake nestled within a plum blossom’s stamen—so fragile that even sunlight might melt her away. Such a tender daughter, who would never see her mother again.

Because her mother was heartless, ruthless, and utterly unyielding.

With this thought, she raised her arm to cover her eyes, curling up on the glazed seven-treasure agarwood couch.

Lying beside another man, she told herself, Mei Wanzhi, you must live well. For the sake of clinging to splendor and luxury, you’ve already committed acts worse than beasts. If you don’t live freely now, heaven and earth will not tolerate you!

II. Inverted Reflections in the Lotus Pond

The room where Wang Fu had once lived was lavishly decorated, so ornate that it felt oppressive.

When she first entered the Prince’s mansion, Wang Shao always wore light-colored clothes—pale green, soft yellow, faint blue. She knew this would make her appear more delicate and fragile, softening her naturally dazzling beauty and helping her seem more girlish.

She also had most of the room’s decorations removed, striving for simplicity in its furnishings.

When Prince Yun asked about it, she merely hugged the books Wang Fu had left behind, fidgeting slightly with a faint, uneasy smile. “It’s already improper for me to live in my sister’s room. I dare not make it any more extravagant.”

“At such a young age, don’t be overly obedient,” Prince Yun teased her.

She lowered her head with a smile, pretending to read, lest the faint mockery in her eyes betray her.

A withered, yellowed petal of a poppy, pressed between the pages, drifted slowly down as she turned them.

She picked it up, studying it absently while skimming the words on the page.

Do not mistake today’s favor for yesterday’s love.

With tears in her eyes, she gazes at the flowers,

Yet refuses to speak to the King of Chu.

It was Wang Wei’s poem, Lady Xi .

A sharp pang pierced her chest—not excruciating, but enough to make blood seep slowly. Yet her face only softened into an even gentler smile, prompting Prince Yun to pull her close and kiss her ear. “Such a girlish sentiment. What’s so fascinating about a withered petal?”

She lowered her long lashes, curving her lips further. Her gaze caught on two hastily scribbled words in the margin of the page—

Save me.

Even in their frantic strokes, the original elegance of the handwriting remained unmistakable.

It was Wang Fu’s writing—something she had grown familiar with over the past few months.

Without a flicker of expression, she leaned against Prince Yun’s shoulder and placed the poppy petal back, carefully covering the two small words.

Late autumn had arrived, and fallen leaves scattered chaotically. She picked up a nearby maple leaf, flipped through the book once more, and tucked it inside at another spot.

Prince Yun wrapped an arm around her shoulders and murmured, “You’re so delicate. Let’s return to your room before the wind gives you a headache.”

She nodded in agreement, taking his hand as she rose from the corridor bench—only to suddenly feel dizzy, collapsing weakly against him.

Prince Yun caught her quickly. “What’s wrong? Did the wind really make you ill?”

Before she could answer, she covered her mouth, retching dryly.The child in her womb was just over a month old, a time requiring careful nurturing.

Guo Wan was the first to visit her, accompanied by a wet nurse carrying her daughter Linghui. She placed Linghui on the bed beside her and said with a smile, "When I gave birth to Linghui, everything went smoothly. That’s why I brought her today—hoping the child in your belly will be just like her and not trouble its mother too much."

Wang Shao smiled and reached out to embrace Linghui, saying, "Thank you for your kind words, sister." Her hands firmly pressed against the child’s knees and shoulders, ensuring she couldn’t accidentally touch her belly.

Linghui seemed to sense the discomfort. She stared at Wang Shao with wide eyes for a long moment before silently crawling back to Guo Wan and burying her face in her mother’s arms. At four years old, she still hadn’t spoken a word—a cause for concern.

The other three concubines of the Prince’s residence arrived one after another, bringing various gifts for the child. For a while, the atmosphere was warm and sisterly.

Aside from the Princess Consort, a prince of this dynasty was permitted two secondary consorts (Ruren) and ten concubines (Ying). The only Ruren, Wang Fu, had already passed away, leaving the concubines with little interaction—usually distant and polite. But now that Wang Shao was pregnant and backed by the influential Langya Wang family, the smiles on their faces were markedly different from before.

After they left, Wang Shao examined each of their gifts—nothing more than gold bracelets, silver locks, and the like. Nothing extraordinary.

It seemed that, in this Prince of Yun’s residence, the boldest person so far was still herself.

That night, she went to bed early but was awakened by faint sobbing in the middle of the night. She called for Yongling, but there was no response. The incessant crying outside the window grated on her nerves, and with a mix of irritation and helplessness, she rose from her bed, took a silk lantern, and pushed open the window to look outside.

The winter night’s wind blew through the corridor, dry and cold. Across the pond, a pale figure drifted hazily over the dark rippling water.

Wang Shao removed the silk shade from the lantern and calmly blew out the candle inside.

In the darkness, the white figure became clearer. The shimmering reflections on the water swayed, indistinct and eerie, revealing the silhouette of a woman in white.

The distance and the dim, flickering light made it hard to discern details. She could only see the figure floating slowly, turning in the water.

The face was featureless, the skin as ghostly pale as the robes.

Standing alone in the silent room, enveloped in darkness, she felt a deathly stillness.

She took a deep breath, forcing her voice to sound as ghastly and desperate as if it were wrenched from her chest: "Someone! Help—"

No one answered. She hurled the lantern against the wall and looked up—in the faint light, the white figure slowly rotated, bobbing up and down in the water, dancing eerily before finally sinking beneath the surface.

Yongling and several maids finally rushed in from the adjoining room, asking urgently, "Madam, what’s wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"

Wang Shao pointed at the pond, trembling too violently to speak.

Yongling turned and saw the white figure slowly sinking into the water, her legs nearly giving way from fright.

Wang Shao said in a quivering voice, "You… go and see…"

The others shook their heads in terror, unwilling to approach. Only a maid named Fangfei, trembling, leaned over the railing and reached out toward the phantom.The white figure sank completely, her hand grasping at empty air, palm striking the water's surface and sending up a spray.

She flailed a few more times, not daring to linger in the water, and quickly scrambled back onto the walkway, curling up on the ground.

The eunuchs on night watch had already arrived with lanterns in hand. Under the flickering light, everyone peered down—the rippling water was clear to the bottom, where only a few startled koi scattered in panic beneath the glow. There was nothing else.

Wang Shao turned her gaze to Fangfei, taking in her sleeves soaked from the water, then slowly looked back at Yongling, who was leaning against the wall.

Her face was deathly pale, lips murmuring something under her breath.

Wang Shao strained to listen, but the words were just the same three, repeated over and over: "It's happening again..."

III. Jade Beauty Outshone by the Winter Crow

The Prince of Yun rushed over that very night to console her.

"I'm fine..." she whispered, yet she clung to his hand, unconsciously pressing it against her belly.

The prince felt an overwhelming surge of tenderness in his chest. He held her tightly, letting her lean against him as he murmured, "Don’t worry, I will protect you. Let’s see what ghost dares to haunt this household!"

She exhaled deeply, nestling against him with a nervous smile. "With Your Highness’s imposing presence guarding the manor, how could there be any ghosts? It must be my imagination, born from too much worry..."

He chuckled softly, fingers brushing through her smooth, long hair as he whispered, "A-Shao, you won’t end up like A-Fu… never!"

Wang Shao closed her eyes and held him tighter.

After the prince left, Wang Shao idly flipped through a few books from the nearby study, unrolling scrolls and folding-book manuscripts, but she didn’t find what she was looking for.

She wasn’t in a hurry. Now that she was carrying a child and signs had already begun to appear, what was meant to come would come in time. There was no need to rush.

Reclining alone on the couch, she slowly turned the pages of a poetry collection and casually asked Yongling, "Before coming to serve me, where were you assigned?"

Yongling, busy with needlework beside her, replied softly, "This servant was originally from the palace, following His Highness when he established his household. After the prince took Lady Wang as his concubine, I was assigned here. When Lady Wang passed, I remained."

Wang Shao listened absently, flipping to where she had left a maple leaf bookmark the day before.

Between the pages, tiny, densely packed characters filled the margins—

Last night, wind and rain kept me awake. Faint light flickered outside the window, the water restless, phantoms rising. Yet the child in my womb stirred, my body stiffened beyond control. I could only pray it was a dream—don’t look, don’t listen, don’t go...

The handwriting grew increasingly erratic, the rest illegible.

She nodded and asked, "What about the other four maids?"

"They came from different parts of the household—some were seamstresses, others served in the study. When you arrived, the steward selected the most composed ones for your service."

"Fangfei seems well-mannered. Was she trained before?"

"Not exactly, but her elder sister serves close to Lady Guo, so she must have learned from her."

Wang Shao smiled faintly, closing the book gently. "Lying around all day is tedious. Tell me… how did my sister—Lady Wang—pass the time when she was with child?"Yongling hesitated slightly, seeing her determined gaze, she sighed and said, "Lady Wang was a delicate and beautiful woman, as pure and lovely as a lotus. Unfortunately, she was quiet and aloof by nature, and her health was frail. During her pregnancy, she suffered from nightmares every night and... even fell victim to evil influences..."

Wang Shao tilted her head and asked, "What do you mean by 'evil influences'?"

"Ah... perhaps it was due to overthinking after conceiving. She would often wake up startled in the middle of the night, claiming to have seen unclean things."

Wang Shao placed a hand on her own abdomen and asked, "Like what happened to me last night?"

Noticing her slightly pale complexion, Yongling comfortingly patted her hand before replying, "Lady Wang fainted from fright at the sight. The servants didn’t find her collapsed by the window until dawn, and she couldn’t explain what had happened. Later, the household summoned Taoist priests and Buddhist monks, performing multiple rituals. But from then on, she was plagued by nightmares daily, growing visibly weaker."

"And the child?" she asked slowly.

"Born prematurely. And after the birth, Lady Wang died from postpartum hemorrhage," Yongling said with a low sigh. "Now nearly a year old, the child remains sickly, barely larger than a seven or eight-month-old. Everyone says it’s congenital weakness, beyond remedy."

Wang Shao glanced around the room and remarked, "With all these books lining the walls, Lady Wang must have read too many bizarre tales during her pregnancy, exhausting her spirit."

"Exactly. The prince was so concerned that all the books were removed at the time. They were only returned after her passing, restoring the room to its original state."

"Ten months of pregnancy is tedious. Surely she must have hidden one book to read secretly?"

"She did. I once caught her... with a book similar to the one in your hands," Yongling, who was illiterate, chuckled. "But to me, all books look the same."

Wang Shao closed the book, leaned back against the bed, and murmured, "I see. In my opinion, this residence is unclean. I should speak to the prince about relocating."

That afternoon, Prince Yun ordered Wang Shao to move into his quarters. They lived together daily, like an ordinary married couple. Attendants from the prince’s side cared for her, and she brought only Yongling with her.

With everyone around her deeply concerned and Wang Shao herself being cautious, her belly grew day by day, and the pregnancy progressed smoothly.

By the following summer, as she neared childbirth, her movements became quite cumbersome.

One evening, news arrived from the palace that the Emperor was unwell. Wang Shao saw Prince Yun off, knowing he would likely spend the night in the palace.

As she walked back with Yongling, passing by Guo Wan’s residence, she noticed Linghui standing in a shadowy corner, her large eyes fixed on Wang Shao. In the dim twilight, the snow-white, adorable little girl’s eyes gleamed eerily like frost.

Unable to resist, Wang Shao smiled gently and asked, "Why are you playing here alone? Where’s your mother?"

Linghui, unable to speak, turned her head toward the darkness. Guo Wan emerged slowly, a faint smile on her face. "Sister, you must take care of your health. Why are you walking around so late?"

Wang Shao smiled in return. "Thank you for your concern, elder sister. I’ll head back now."

Guo Wan placed a hand lightly on Linghui’s shoulder and said, "Linghui, look, your little brother will be born soon. Then you’ll have someone to play with..."Her voice was soft, yet carried an eerie, unsettling quality that unsettled Wang Shao.

Ling Hui's gaze fell upon her belly, those snow-pale eyes fixed unblinkingly on her, making her feel uneasy. Instinctively, she grabbed Yong Ling's arm, pulling her forward and pushing her ahead with deliberate calm.

Yong Ling collided head-on with the charging Ling Hui, the two crashing together—absorbing the full force of Ling Hui's impact in her stead. Ling Hui tumbled to the ground, bursting into loud, wailing sobs.

Yongling was startled and was about to pick up Linghui when Wang Shao called her: "Yongling..."

Hearing the faint tremor and weakness in her voice, Yongling quickly turned to look at her.

Wang Shao stared coldly at Guo Wan, who was still standing there, and said calmly, "Let's go back."

Guo Wan helped Linghui up from the ground and approached her: "I'm sorry, the child doesn't understand things and has frightened you, sister..."

Wang Shao placed her hand on Yongling's arm and subtly took a step back, saying to Yongling, "It's getting dark. Let's return early."

She walked back slowly, and several times, Yongling felt her body trembling violently, her entire weight leaning heavily on her.

Yongling whispered, "Madam, are you...?"

"Let's go back first," she replied, her voice already slightly breathless.

IV. The Changing Clouds Follow Your Will

As soon as they returned to their quarters, she sat on the bed, enduring the waves of pain. First, she instructed two eunuchs to inform the Tutor of the Prince's Household, then ordered several maids to summon the Chief Steward, fetch the midwife, notify the eunuch in charge for the day, and send someone to report urgently to the palace.

By the time everything was arranged, the pain in her abdomen had grown increasingly intense.

A maid rushed in to report: "The other ladies have come to visit and are now waiting outside. Lady Guo has brought the young princess with her."

Wang Shao gritted her teeth, unable to speak, and merely waved her hand. The maid hesitated, unsure what to do, and remained standing there. Finally, Wang Shao could bear it no longer and spoke word by word: "Get out!"

The maid whispered, "Lady Guo is weeping and says this must have been caused by the young princess. She wishes to apologize to you, Madam..."

"Go..." Wang Shao forced out the single word with great effort.

Yongling quickly dismissed the maid. The pain was coming faster now, and the midwife had yet to arrive. Most of the maids had already been sent out on errands, and the Chief Steward and eunuchs who had rushed over stood helplessly in the outer chamber. Yongling herself had never been married or given birth and was frantic with worry.

At that moment, Fangfei hurried in with a midwife and said, "The midwife is here. Quickly, boil some water."

Yongling asked, "Wasn't Yingluo sent to fetch one? How did you find her?"

"This is my aunt. She lives nearby. When I heard Lady Wang was in labor, I rushed to bring her here."

"Thank you so much," Yongling said gratefully.

Wang Shao struggled to prop herself up halfway but had no time to speak before another wave of pain hit. She knew the child was coming and no longer had the strength to send this midwife away. Clutching the bedpost, she gasped for breath, unable to utter a word.

Fortunately, this child was not like Xue Se—or perhaps the second birth was easier—and after not too much struggle, the baby arrived with a loud cry.

"Congratulations, Madam. It's a boy," the midwife said as soon as she held the child. Wang Shao caught her breath and gripped Yongling's hand, forcing out a few words: "Go... watch!"

Yongling hurried after the midwife to assist with the newborn. Wang Shao exhaled in relief, silently vowing to herself that next time, she would never allow herself to be surrounded by wolves like this again.

Just then, the midwife Yingluo had summoned finally arrived and began tending to Wang Shao.

A commotion arose outside—it was the Prince of Yun returning. Ignoring the protests of others, he entered the chaotic room and sat by the bed, taking her hand. Concerned, he asked, "Are you... alright?"

The midwife beside them smiled. "Your Highness need not worry. Both mother and child are well."

Outside, Yongling had already brought the baby in. The midwife Fangfei had found followed behind, offering hesitant congratulations.Prince Yun remained oblivious, merely beaming as he dismissed them to receive their rewards.

The midwife stepped outside, where Fang Fei immediately inquired about the situation. The midwife hesitated before saying, "The lady is truly blessed. This birth was quicker and less painful than most first deliveries—even smoother than some second births."

Fang Fei caught the implication in her words and glanced at Guo Wan, who gave a slight upward tilt of her chin in response. Quickly, Fang Fei pulled the midwife aside to a secluded corner for further questioning.

Guo Wan watched them out of the corner of her eye before wrapping an arm around Ling Hui. Though she wore a smile, it was cold and detached.

Prince Yun cradled the child with joy, while Wang Shao reclined against the headboard, sipping spoonfuls of ginseng chicken soup fed to her by Yong Ling. Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside, followed by the muffled sobs of a woman.

Frowning, Prince Yun motioned for an attendant to investigate. The servant returned with a grim expression. "Lady Guo... struck the midwife who just delivered the child."

"Ah Wan? On such a joyous day, how could she act so rashly?" Prince Yun handed the child to Yong Ling and rose to intervene, but Guo Wan had already dragged the midwife inside. With a furious shove, she forced the woman to the ground and commanded Fang Fei to kneel as well. Turning to Prince Yun, she declared, "These two dared to slander my sister! I could not contain my anger and brought them before you for judgment!"

"What happened? How have they offended you?" Prince Yun patted her shoulder soothingly.

"They... they spouted nonsense, insinuating that my sister..." Guo Wan choked on her words, pointing at the midwife. "You tell him yourself!"

Trembling, the midwife prostrated herself on the floor, stealing a glance at Wang Shao before remaining silent.

Fang Fei, however, straightened her kneeling posture and spoke up. "My aunt said that judging by Lady Wang's condition during childbirth, this was not her first delivery!"

The room erupted in shock. Prince Yun inhaled sharply, his gaze snapping toward Wang Shao.

Wang Shao, still leaning against the headboard, fixed Fang Fei with a piercing stare before shifting her eyes to the midwife. Her lips trembled as she struggled to speak, tears streaming down her face. Her already pale complexion turned ashen. After a long silence, she looked at Prince Yun with anguish, her voice hoarse and broken. "Your Highness... I don’t... I don’t understand where such accusations come from?"

Seeing her distress, Prince Yun wavered between doubt and rising anger. Standing by the bed, he demanded of the midwife, "How dare you make such claims? Where is your proof?"

"Your Highness, during the delivery, this old woman saw with her own eyes that a first-time mother’s birth canal is narrow and flat, while one who has given birth before is round and wide. With decades of experience, I cannot be mistaken!"

"You were the only one present at the time, and now that my child is born, my body has changed. Now... whatever you say, I have no way to refute it, is that it?" Wang Shao’s breath came in ragged gasps, tears falling uncontrollably. Her voice cracked with emotion. "I am of the noble Langya Wang family, our lineage strict and unblemished. How dare you... you common folk slander me? I know... you must be plotting against me... determined to deny His Highness an heir. But I never imagined... you would be so vicious, attacking me the very day I’ve given birth, leaving me no respite, driving me to my death!"

Her tearful denunciation left Fang Fei and the midwife cowering in fear. Guo Wan glanced down at them before shifting her gaze to Prince Yun.Prince Yun, seeing Wang Shao on the verge of collapse, his heart filled with pity, quickly stepped forward to support her shoulders. Yet she clutched his hand tightly, her nails digging deep into his flesh like a drowning person grasping at the last straw.

Gazing at him weakly, she asked in a trembling voice, "Does Your Highness remember... remember when I was newly pregnant, we saw ghostly apparitions by the pond in the garden?"

Prince Yun nodded and said, "Fortunately, you were protected by heaven, and the ghosts could not harm you."

"No... those were not ghosts. It was... someone determined to harm me... to harm Your Highness's child!" She clung to his hand, barely managing to speak. "Your Highness... beneath my pillow, there is a book of poetry. Please look... at the pages marked with maple leaves and flowers."

Prince Yun reached under her pillow and indeed found a book. Opening it, he couldn't help but ask, "This... is this A-Fu's handwriting?"

"Yes... I discovered it by chance and only then realized... that my sister, like me, had encountered someone pretending to be ghosts during her pregnancy, intending... to harm the child!" Her tear-filled eyes looked up at him, her breath faint. "Only by reading my sister's notes did I learn the truth. But my sister... she was too delicate and unaware, allowing the murderer to succeed, leading to..."

At this point, she covered her face with her hands, sobbing uncontrollably, unable to utter another word.

Prince Yun turned sharply and saw Fang Fei kneeling on the ground, trembling like a leaf, her face drained of color. Realizing that Fang Fei had served both sisters, his gaze turned dark and menacing. "A-Shao, do you know who harmed you?"

"That day... she pretended to be ghosts but failed to harm me. I thought, being with child, it was not the time to act, so I planned to tell Your Highness later. Who knew that when her first scheme failed, she devised another..." Wang Shao turned and pointed a trembling finger at Fang Fei. "Today... on the day I gave birth, she was so cruel as to collude with her aunt to slander me on this joyous occasion for Your Highness and me... Your Highness, she is trying to drive me to my death!"

"I... I did not..." Fang Fei shook her head in terror, pleading. "I never pretended to be ghosts, nor did I collude with my aunt..."

"You never pretended to be ghosts?" Wang Shao clenched her teeth, mustering the last of her strength to sit up slightly in Prince Yun's arms, whispering, "Yong Ling, bring it here."

Yong Ling responded promptly, opening a cabinet in the back room and retrieving a box from the bottom. Inside were fragments of camphor and several thin bamboo strips tied into a spherical shape, supported by three bamboo sticks below.

Wang Shao said no more, merely gesturing for Yong Ling to proceed.

Yong Ling angrily threw the bamboo strips before Fang Fei, her voice sharp. "This was found in the water by the pond after that night when we saw the ghost and everyone scattered. Madam quietly ordered me to retrieve it. She concluded that the white-robed ghost was white paper shaped like a human figure draped over these bamboo strips, meant to frighten from afar in the dark! And when we were startled, you went ahead, tearing off the outer paper and crumpling it into your sleeve while pretending to search the water. The thin bamboo strips were nearly invisible in the water, so when the eunuchs came with lanterns, they found nothing."

Furious, Prince Yun demanded, "And what is the camphor for?""This is what I secretly found in Fangfei's room afterwards. Camphor spins wildly when it meets water. That white paper ghost was stuck on the camphor at the time, which made it sway and move, looking especially terrifying!" Yongling spat in Fangfei's face and wailed loudly, "Your Highness! For the sake of the child in her womb, the lady ordered me not to speak out. These past ten months, I've been walking on thin ice, trembling with fear. I imagine... the lady must have suffered even more..."

Yongling and Wang Shao wept together, while on the other side, Guo Wan stood by the bed with a frosty expression.

Fangfei collapsed to the ground in terror. Her aunt, as if waking from a dream, quickly pushed her away and began slapping her own face vigorously: "Ah, Your Highness, my lady, this is terrible! This old woman truly didn’t know my niece was such a wicked person! I... I only had doubts. Some women are naturally born with wider birth canals, but I never thought... it would come to this!"

The Prince of Yun tightly embraced the still-tearful Wang Shao but said nothing, merely waving his hand.

Fangfei, mustering strength from somewhere, lunged forward to cling to Guo Wan’s leg: "My lady, my lady, save me..."

Guo Wan kicked her to the ground, then crouched down and hissed fiercely, "You wretched thing! How dare you slander Lady Wang? Touching me has dirtied my clothes!"

Leaning against the prince, Wang Shao murmured as if to herself, "I wonder how a mere servant girl could dare to repeatedly harm the prince’s heir?"

The prince silently held her, his gaze resting on Guo Wan. She could hear his heartbeat quickening against her ear, yet he remained silent.

So Wang Shao said no more, watching as Fangfei and the midwife were dragged away. Their frantic screams were soon muffled, and silence fell like death around them.

V. Fallen Pearls, Unopened Door

Wang Shao recovered well. Within days, she was able to stroll in the courtyard with her child in her arms.

With the Prince of Yun and the Langya Wang family’s influence, along with the newborn heir, the imperial court soon issued an edict: she became the prince’s sole Ruren (secondary consort). In the absence of a principal wife, she was now the de facto mistress of the Yun household.

However, the emperor’s health was gradually declining. News came again that day, forcing the prince to reluctantly leave his newborn son and hurry to the palace to attend to him.

Guo Wan arrived at Wang Shao’s invitation, bringing Linghui with her.

Wang Shao greeted them warmly before handing the child to Yongling, instructing her to take him inside to the wet nurse.

Guo Wan teased with a pout, "I haven’t even held him yet! How stingy of you, Ruren , not letting anyone touch even a finger to him."

"Infants are delicate. Sometimes even a single touch can bring unforeseen consequences." Wang Shao sat down with them in the courtyard, her gaze lingering on Linghui as she smiled faintly. "Besides, Linghui doesn’t seem too pleased about having a little brother."

Guo Wan sighed. "I knew you’d still remember that incident. Linghui is young—she doesn’t understand..."

"I know. Sister, wait a moment." With a cheerful smile, she went inside and returned with three bowls of creamy pudding. One, adorned with finely sliced red and green fruit, vibrant and tempting, she handed to Guo Wan. The second, sprinkled with crushed walnuts, she gave to Linghui. The third, almond-flavored, she kept for herself.

Wang Shao had long since moved back into the quarters once occupied by Wang Fu. The three of them sat in the afternoon courtyard, enjoying the treats as gentle breezes rippled the water and stirred the lotus pond, where only one or two fading blossoms remained.Ling Hui finished her own walnut pudding and fixed her gaze on the red and green pudding in Guo Wan's hand. Guo Wan had already eaten most of it but seemed to dislike the candied fruit strips, leaving most of them untouched.

Noticing Ling Hui staring, Guo Wan scooped out the fruit strips, intending to give them to her.

Wang Shao, sitting nearby, remarked coolly, "I advise you not to feed those to your daughter."

Guo Wan, holding the empty bowl, looked up at her in confusion.

Wang Shao gestured for everyone around them to withdraw, including Ling Hui, who was led away. Then, resting her delicate chin on her hand, she gazed at the lotus leaves spread like emerald canopies before her and smiled faintly. "Otherwise, if your daughter were to become infertile for life, you, as her mother, might regret it."

Guo Wan glanced down at her hands, then back at Wang Shao, and suddenly understood. The empty bowl slipped from her grasp and shattered on the ground.

A dull pain began to twist in her stomach, and cold sweat broke out across her body. Weakness overtook her, forcing her to slump onto the table. She raised a trembling finger at Wang Shao and gritted out, "You... what did you give me...?"

"Nothing much. Just a little rong —enough to ensure you never bear children again. Now you won’t have to worry about the pains of childbirth."

Leaning over the curled-up Guo Wan, Wang Shao’s smile remained gentle, her voice as soft as the summer breeze. "You’ve served Prince Yun for many years, so of course you resent me. I can understand that. But if you were to have children in the future, they might become a problem for me. After much deliberation, I had no choice but to take this measure. Now, any grievances between us are resolved. We can each live our lives in peace."

"You... you vile creature... the prince will never forgive you..." Clutching her stomach, Guo Wan collapsed to the ground, her cries ragged with agony.

The maids had long since vanished, leaving only the two of them in the courtyard.

Wang Shao gathered her skirts and rose gracefully, stepping back under the veranda. She paid no heed to Guo Wan’s writhing form or contorted face, instead admiring the lotus blossoms standing tall in the pond. "Guo Wan, if only you had been as obedient as the others, none of this would have happened. Even if you once directed Fang Fei to harm Wang Fu, what did that have to do with me? But now you’ve crossed me, and I had to make you realize—you picked the wrong enemy."

Guo Wan, overwhelmed by pain, could only gasp hoarsely, her body drenched in sweat. Wang Shao leaned against a vermilion pillar, leisurely observing the summer afternoon, recalling the stifling, storm-laden spring day when she had first arrived.

Back then, Guo Wan had stood beneath a pomegranate tree, clad in a vibrant orange dress, radiant and striking.

The sound of Guo Wan’s tortured moans reached her ears, but to Wang Shao, they were like sweet music. She couldn’t help but laugh. "I’ve endured every cruelty this world has to offer—I’ve even inflicted them myself. Women like you, who’ve never weathered true storms, have no idea who I am..." Her gaze lingered on Guo Wan for a moment before she tilted her head back, a scornful smile playing on her lips. "You don’t know yourself, and you certainly don’t know me. Yet you dared to provoke me. How foolish. Tell me, if I were to reveal everything to the prince now, would you live... or would you not?"

The worst of the pain had passed, leaving Guo Wan sprawled on the ground, sobbing wretchedly. She dared not answer.

"You’ll live..."From behind, a childish voice suddenly struggled to utter two words.

Wang Shao turned around to find Ling Hui, who had somehow sneaked in unnoticed, standing dumbfounded at the back hall's entrance. The child opened her mouth and repeated with difficulty: "Must live."

A child of just over four years old had spoken for the first time, and these were the words she chose.

Wang Shao stared intently at her. The girl, barely four, had a round face and large eyes. When she looked up, there was an innate stubbornness in her gaze that couldn't be erased.

Why were some children born with such obstinacy? Just like when she had left Xue Se, the girl had cried with that same unblinking stare—as if she would remember her for a lifetime.

At this moment, Wang Shao actually lowered her head, avoiding the child's gaze.

Her heart, which she had believed was hardened enough to never waver again, now twisted faintly, squeezing out drops of painful blood that spread throughout her body.

She raised her hand, signaling the maids who had just arrived to seize Ling Hui. Guo Wan, with unexpected strength, threw herself forward to shield Ling Hui and tried to claw at Wang Shao.

"Don't touch me!" Wang Shao slapped her hand away fiercely and said coldly, "If you want to live, take your daughter and go back to your own place!"

Guo Wan, still in pain, was pulled away by the maids. In her sorrow and despair, she could only grit her teeth and lead Ling Hui slowly toward the door.

As they reached the entrance, they encountered the Prince of Yun entering from outside. He glanced at them briefly before turning to Wang Shao and saying, "Father is unwell. I've returned to gather some things and may need to keep vigil at the palace again..."

Before he could finish, Ling Hui tugged at his sleeve and looked up at him.

Surprised, he looked down at his daughter, who had never spoken before.

"Must live," Ling Hui said clearly.

"What?" He didn't quite catch it at first. His gaze drifted absently over Guo Wan's pale face before he crouched down to look at his firstborn, a hint of delight in his voice. "Ling Hui can speak now? What did you just say?"

"Must live," she repeated, not understanding the meaning but wearing a proud smile.

Before the Prince of Yun could praise her, someone rushed in from outside: "Your Highness! Your Highness! The Emperor... has passed away!"

The Prince of Yun's eyes widened in shock. He stood up abruptly, mouth agape.

Before he could speak, hurried footsteps echoed from outside. The eunuch who delivered the news wept with joy and added, "Now... the imperial procession has arrived to escort Your Highness to the palace for your ascension!"

Everyone gasped, standing frozen in place, disbelief and elation mingling as silence stretched on.

The courtyard fell into a hush.

Only Ling Hui continued chanting, "Must live, must live!"

"Now... I truly must live!" The Prince of Yun scooped up his daughter and kissed her twice. Decades of pent-up tension dissolved in an instant, bringing tears to his eyes.

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

"Ah Shao..." He set the child down and grasped her hand hastily. "I must go to the palace. The household is in your hands... and from now on, the palace affairs will also require your attention."

"Your Majesty need not worry."Prince Yun left immediately without packing anything.

Guo Wan stood at the door, her face deathly pale, yet no one noticed her. The entire Yunwang Manor was immersed in joy, with only her appearing dazed and dim.

Wang Shao looked at her, her voice gentle: "Hurry back and pack your things, prepare to enter the palace, Consort Guo."

She turned her head stiffly, forcing out a few difficult words from her throat: "What did you... call me?"

Wang Shao smiled faintly, still with that gentle and harmless expression, but it was only today that Guo Wan seemed to realize Wang Shao was slightly taller than her, so when she looked at her, it was naturally from a slightly downward angle.

"You've been by His Majesty's side the longest; naturally, you deserve a position."

"You... you..." Guo Wan trembled all over as she looked at Wang Shao's composed demeanor, her eyes filled with terror. "Are you truly... willing to let me stay by the prince's side?"

"Why not?" Wang Shao chuckled, casting her one last glance. "After all, I should thank you."

If Guo Wan hadn't schemed to frighten people with ghosts and monsters, how could she have turned the situation to her advantage, clearing herself of suspicion regarding her second child during childbirth? She endured ten long months until the child was born—certainly not to accumulate virtue for the child, but to have a contingency plan to resolve any crisis.

Moreover, she didn’t mind letting Guo Wan keep a place by Prince Yun's side. At least, a woman whose retreat had long been cut off posed no threat to her.

What pleased her most was that she didn’t love that man. Thus, she could remain detached, manipulating everything effortlessly, reaping only benefits and never suffering harm.

After all, being a concubine in the manor, a secondary consort, an imperial consort, or even the empress—all were merely means for her survival in this world. Her life now was about playing the right role, living in splendor and prosperity.

Her life had reached this point—joyful and complete.

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

She became the empress, a motherly figure to the realm, reigning over the imperial harem for years, unruffled by storms.

The emperor and empress were deeply in love, a perfect match.

Many years later, the former Prince Yun, now the emperor, once asked her: "Ah Shao, play a tune on the pipa for me? The one from when we first met."

Dressed in resplendent robes, seated on the palace carpet, she smiled and shook her head. "I never liked the pipa to begin with, and now, after so many years without playing, I’ve long grown rusty."

The emperor was surprised. "Eh, how could you not like it? I remember your pipa playing back then was like heavenly music, rare in this mortal world!"

She lifted her eyes and smiled at him. "Your Majesty must be loving the crow for the sake of its nest. Was my playing really that good back then?"

"Could it be that I was merely enchanted by the player, not the music?" Seeing her question, the emperor tried to recall that day but could only clearly remember her holding the pipa and gazing at him with that smile. So he too grew a little confused and could only jest, "In any case, if I say it was good, then it was good."

She lowered her neck, looking at her own hands, smiling silently.

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

She had forced the marks of her daily pipa practice to fade from her hands. Now, these hands were delicate and soft, with skin like jade, bearing no trace of the past.No one knew that many years ago, beneath a solitary lamp and the moon, she once played those clear, melodious tunes all night long, spending the most beautiful years of her youth to earn the reputation of "a single pipa song worth a hundred demon dances."

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

No one knew she once had a daughter named Xue Se, as delicate as the fine snow nestled within a plum blossom's heart, afraid the sunlight would melt her away.

Save for the moon in the sky, none knew.