Chapter 5

17

I had not imagined that, after I burned myself to death in my previous life, he had become so deranged.

I clenched my handkerchief. Sweat had soaked it through.

My gaze shifted away. I dared not look directly at him.

His eyes never left me.

Silence lingered in the room.

The candle crackled.

I came back to myself and realized my nails had dug deep into my palm.

Calmly, I said, “If Your Highness has finished, go home. I am getting married the day after tomorrow.”

He suddenly raised his head.

Something seemed to shatter in his eyes.

“Do you hate me so much?”

I did not know whether to laugh or cry.

“After everything you did to me, shouldn’t I hate you?”

His lips trembled twice. No words came.

Moonlight fell across him. Only then did I see the bandages still wrapped around his neck.

The thirty strokes had made his wounds bleed, staining the gauze red.

After a moment’s silence, he said nothing more. He climbed back through the window and left.

For three days after that night, the Eastern Palace was unusually quiet.

Xie Zhao troubled me no further.

Then, on the afternoon of the fourth day, Cuiping stumbled into my room.

I was trying on my wedding gown.

Crimson brocade lay across the bed. Mandarin ducks embroidered in gold thread shimmered in the candlelight.

“Miss! The Imperial Guard is surrounding the residence!

“They say His Highness is acting on an imperial order to protect the Pan household. People may enter, but no one can leave.”

Her voice shook with fear.

My hand stopped on a row of fastenings.

Dusk gathered outside the window.

Faintly, I could hear armor clinking all around the residence.

I sat by the window and said nothing.

In my first life, Xie Zhao had risen from a Crown Prince out of favor to Emperor within three months.

With an earlier start in this life, gaining control of the Imperial Guard would hardly be difficult.

He had always calculated every move without error.

Perhaps the only thing he had miscalculated was that I would rather die than turn back.

That night, a sudden downpour began.

18

I lay tossing and turning, listening to rain patter on the banana leaves all night.

Near dawn, it stopped.

Water still dripped from the eaves, striking the stone steps one drop at a time.

Three quarters into the Hour of the Hare, someone suddenly pushed open the courtyard door.

I sat bolt upright.

To my astonishment, my elder sister stood outside.

She wore a dark blue cloak, its hood pulled low, exposing only half her pale face.

In her hand was a bronze token. It gleamed dully in the morning light.

“Go.”

Her lips were bloodless, her voice weak.

I did not move.

She raised her eyes to me. The shadows beneath them were frighteningly dark. Clearly, she too had gone several nights without sleep.

“The Imperial Guard obeys the token, not the person carrying it. As Crown Princess, I can get past them. They won’t dare stop me.”

“Why help me?”

I watched her.

After a silence, she pushed the token into my hand.

It was icy cold.

“The other day, in the Eastern Palace study, I heard him tell his advisers he wanted to make you Crown Princess and share the realm with you.

“Isn’t it ridiculous? I’m the Crown Princess he married with every proper ceremony, yet he wants you as his lawful wife?”

I tightened my grip on the token and said nothing.

Birds flew past the window, shaking a string of droplets from their wings.

My sister drew a deep breath and choked out, “Song Zhiyan is waiting outside the western side gate. The carriage is ready.”

She turned to leave.

At the door, she stopped as though she wanted to say something, then swallowed it.

I watched her cloak disappear beyond the courtyard gate.

Changing into plain clothes, I went out, through the corridor, and toward the outer gate.

Sure enough, a green-curtained carriage waited outside the side entrance.

The curtain lifted. Song Zhiyan leaned halfway out.

At the sight of me, he visibly relaxed.

He held out a hand to help me aboard.

His palm was warm and faintly damp with sweat.

“Second Miss Pan,” he said softly.

There was worry in his eyes, and joy he could not hide.

19

The carriage rattled forward and passed through the city gates.

I lifted the curtain and looked back.

The upturned eaves of the Pan residence dwindled in the morning mist until only a blurred outline remained.

“We’re going to Jinling.”

Song Zhiyan handed me a cup of warm tea.

“His Majesty has approved my papers for a provincial post. The Crown Prince… his reach doesn’t extend that far yet.”

I accepted the cup.

My fingertips trembled, but my heart was strangely calm.

The carriage jolted all the way, yet it did not trouble me.

Before long, we reached Jinling.

It was less prosperous than the capital, but it set my heart at ease.

Song Zhiyan and I soon settled into our new life.

Half a month later, our parents wrote.

My sister had released me without permission. Enraged, Xie Zhao immediately banished her to the Cold Palace.

This greatly displeased the Empress. Together with the court ministers, she brought pressure to bear on him.

Forced to yield, he released my sister.

Still furious, however, he demoted her to secondary consort and placed her in a separate courtyard.

My sister could not endure his cruelty.

She hanged herself beneath the eaves with a length of white silk.

Our parents’ hair turned white overnight.

20

Three years later, news came from the capital.

After ascending the throne, Xie Zhao had appointed no Empress. His harem remained empty.

Yet affairs of state were handled with order and skill. He was, by all accounts, a rare and capable ruler.

Seeing the harem remain vacant so long, ministers repeatedly petitioned him to produce an imperial heir.

The matter troubled him deeply.

He sank into melancholy and fell ill.

Even in sickness, he reviewed the memorials himself. Not a day passed in idleness.

As his health declined, he adopted the Prince of Yan’s eldest son and named him Crown Prince.

Five years later, an urgent letter arrived from the imperial palace.

Song Zhiyan handed it to me himself.

The paper was thin. It carried only a single line.

The ink had blurred slightly, as though it had been wetted.

“His Majesty passed away in the Palace of Eternal Longevity, aged thirty. At the end, he still gripped an old, blackened handkerchief. The palace attendants tried to remove it, but his hold was too tight, and they could not. His posthumous name is Wulie.”

I stood beneath the covered walkway in Jinling.

Osmanthus filled the courtyard with blossoms. Their sweet fragrance hung everywhere.

I held the letter and looked at it for a long time.

At last, I folded it and tucked it into my sleeve.