Zheng Xiangyi knelt on the ground, feeding the copied Ksitigarbha Sutra sheets one by one into the brazier. She watched blankly as the flames devoured the paper, turning it to ash in moments. A stray gust of wind slipped in from somewhere, gently stirring the surrounding curtains, their soft, elusive touch brushing against her cheeks like a tender caress.
The head palace maid, Muqin, entered and saw her burning the scriptures again. An expression of pity flickered across her face as she cautiously said, “Your Majesty, the Emperor summons you to the Purple Heaven Hall.”
Zheng Xiangyi seemed not to hear her. Only after the last sheet of scripture had burned away did she move her dry, sore eyes and reply expressionlessly, “I know.”
She did not rise immediately. After leisurely tidying the brazier, she instructed Muqin to fetch the fox-fur cloak that had been stored in the cabinet for four years. Unworn for years, the fur seemed duller than she remembered. Zheng Xiangyi’s fingers traced the smooth pelt, and she drifted into memory.
This cloak was bestowed upon her by the late Emperor the year she came of age. She still remembered the gentle gaze that flowed from his eyes as he personally fastened it for her—a gaze like clear water that enveloped her. After the late Emperor’s passing, she had never worn this cloak again. Four years had passed since then.
So, he had been gone for four years.
Muqin did not hurry her, even as she stood there lost in thought. Yet, while retrieving the old garment, Muqin herself couldn’t help but feel a pang of sorrow over how things had changed. When the late Emperor was alive, Her Majesty had been such a bright, dazzling, and cherished person. Even the current Emperor, in the late Emperor’s presence, could not compare to Her Majesty in the slightest. There were even whispers at court that the current Emperor’s initial appointment as Crown Prince had actually been due to Her Majesty’s influence.
“Your Majesty,” Muqin couldn’t resist advising, “His Majesty still holds you in his thoughts. It’s just that the Noble Consort is now with child, so he favors her a bit more at the moment. You are the legitimate Empress, personally enfeoffed by the late Emperor. No matter how many concubines fill this palace, none can ever surpass your status.”
The late Emperor’s prestige was immense, arguably the most sagacious sovereign since the founding of the Jing Dynasty. On his deathbed, before the assembled regent ministers, he had issued a final edict, enfeoffing Zheng Xiangyi as the new Emperor’s Empress, decreeing that any son born to her would be the next Crown Prince, and that she could never be deposed nor the edict altered.
Unfortunately, unfortunately, in the four years Zheng Xiangyi had presided over the central palace, she had yet to conceive, allowing the Noble Consort to seize the advantage instead.
“He holds me in his thoughts? These days, his heart and mind likely belong to the Noble Consort alone,” Zheng Xiangyi said coldly, her long lashes casting a dense shadow beneath her eyes. She stood there with bowed head, slender as a willow branch, unconsciously exuding an alluring, poignant beauty that left one breathless.
In terms of appearance, even ten Noble Consorts combined could not match her. After all, she was the young lady the late Emperor had personally cherished and nurtured.
Zheng Xiangyi fastened the cloak herself. Though unworn for years, it seemed to still carry the faint, crisp scent of sandalwood that had always clung to the late Emperor. Suddenly, Zheng Xiangyi felt the urge to weep. An indescribable sense of grievance welled up in her heart, like a bullied and helpless child finally returning to the embrace that could bring her peace.
“Let us go,” Zheng Xiangyi said, taking a deep breath to suppress the turmoil within, then turned to Muqin.
It was the depths of winter outside, a vast expanse of white. Thick snow weighed down the branches, and flurries of snowflakes drifted with the wind onto her face, cool and refreshing. The distance from the Phoenix Pavilion Palace to the Purple Heaven Hall was normally no more than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea.
As Zheng Xiangyi reached the entrance and prepared to enter, the head eunuch, Guo Yue, extended a hand to stop her. “Your Majesty, allow this humble servant to announce your arrival first.”
Though the old eunuch’s words were polite, his eyes held not a trace of deference toward her. Zheng Xiangyi stared at him calmly until he began to look uncomfortable, then sneered, brushed past him, and pushed the door open herself.
In the late Emperor’s time, this hall had been her most familiar place. The late Emperor’s trusted head eunuch would never have dared to stop her. Even if the late Emperor had been inside discussing state affairs with ministers, barging in would not have earned her a single word of reprimand. Yet now, this place had become utterly foreign to her.
Upon entering, Zheng Xiangyi saw the Emperor seated on the dais, holding the Noble Consort in his arms. The Noble Consort, with her slightly rounded belly, clung to him as if boneless. His large hand rested on her abdomen, and he was murmuring something to her, his gaze tender in a way Zheng Xiangyi had not seen in a long time.
“What matter does Your Majesty summon this consort for?” Zheng Xiangyi raised her head slightly, her expression blank as she looked directly at him.
The Emperor’s gaze fell upon her, carrying an inscrutable meaning as he spoke. “Do you no longer hold even Us in your eyes?”
Zheng Xiangyi looked at that familiar face. In the past, every glance at it had made her heart feel as if sweetened with honey—filled with anticipation and nervousness, never able to get enough. But now, her heart stirred not even a ripple.
“This consort does not know in what way she fails to hold Your Majesty in her eyes. Perhaps Your Majesty could explain it to her.”
For a moment, the Emperor said nothing. A dreadful silence fell over the hall. It was the Noble Consort who softly broke it. “Your Majesty, the Emperor is the sovereign, and you are his subject. Upon seeing His Majesty, you should naturally bow in respect.”
“So that’s how it is,” Zheng Xiangyi smiled faintly. “But the late Emperor once said that within the palace, I need not bow to anyone. As for you, Noble Consort, why do you remain seated upon seeing this Empress?”
The Noble Consort bit her lip and glanced at the man beside her. Seeing his inscrutable expression, his eyes lowered as if lost in thought, she could only rise reluctantly from her seat. With tears shimmering in her eyes, she walked before Zheng Xiangyi and knelt, her expression one of extreme grievance.
“This consort pays her respects to Her Majesty, the Empress.”
Zheng Xiangyi looked at the Noble Consort’s prominent belly, then lifted her gaze to the unmoved man. In that instant, she suddenly felt ridiculous for her own sake. So this was the man she had yearned for with all her heart. Zheng Xiangyi felt that all her previous obsessions had been nothing but an illusion. She could scarcely understand her younger self from years ago—why had she been so desperate for this man, willing to die for him, even daring to defy the late Emperor just to marry him.
“Xiangyi, if you insist on marrying him, will you regret it?”
Her vision blurred, and once again, that pair of bottomless eyes surfaced in her mind. He had been so gravely ill, his body emaciated beyond recognition, those eyes that had always gazed upon her with tenderness now veiled in shadow. He had grasped her hand tightly, so tight that for a moment Zheng Xiangyi wondered if he intended to take her with him into the underworld.
“No regrets.” After she uttered those words, his grip loosened, as if he had lost all his strength in an instant.
Zheng Xiangyi had not expected that to be the last time she saw him.
She lowered her gaze to the Noble Consort still kneeling on the ground. Surprisingly, she felt no disgust anymore. It was the Emperor who had changed, the Emperor who had broken his promises—it truly had nothing to do with the Noble Consort.
“Rise.”
The Noble Consort carefully got to her feet, supporting her belly, and took a few steps back, putting a noticeable distance between them, her posture full of caution. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Zheng Xiangyi paid her no further mind and turned directly to the man seated above. “Your Majesty summoned this consort today, surely not just to sit and watch a good show.”
The Emperor seemed to jolt awake from a dream. He waved a hand at the Noble Consort. “Return first. We will visit you later.”
The Noble Consort seemed reluctant, but seeing his resolute expression, she finally withdrew.
The vast hall was now left with only Zheng Xiangyi and the Emperor. Once a couple deeply in love, now only mutual disgust remained between them. Incense smoke curled steadily from the Boshan censer, tendrils of haze drifting between them. At this moment, Zheng Xiangyi could not clearly see the expression on his face, nor could he clearly see hers.
An unknown length of time passed before he finally spoke. “If the Noble Consort gives birth to a prince, We intend to change the succession and make her Empress.”
Perhaps having long anticipated this day, Zheng Xiangyi wasn’t particularly surprised. She gave a light, cold laugh. “The Noble Consort bearing a dragon son is indeed a great achievement. This consort should naturally step aside for the worthy.”
“Xiangyi!”
The Emperor called her name, then suddenly fell silent, as if unsure what to say next.
Zheng Xiangyi said coldly, “Hasn’t Your Majesty long intended to depose this Empress? If not for the late Emperor’s final edict, Your Majesty likely wouldn’t have tolerated this consort for so long.”
All her past confusion and pain now became perfectly clear. Why, after four years of marriage, had she never conceived? Even before the Noble Consort entered the palace, he had had only her as his woman. Yet the Noble Consort had become pregnant within mere months of entering the palace.
How laughable. How many reproaches had she endured for occupying the Emperor’s favor for years without bearing a child? How many nights had she spent in anxious torment, believing it was all her fault, even when the imperial physicians assured her there was nothing wrong with her body?
But she had been afraid. Night after night, she dreamed of the late Emperor’s eyes on his deathbed, filled with disappointment in her. He had raised her, yet she had betrayed him, entangled herself with his son. Was it because he was so utterly disappointed in her that he punished her with infertility?
Zheng Xiangyi regretted it. She regretted it bitterly.
She could have simply remained his princess, his most obedient child, living a peaceful, smooth life under his care. But she had insisted on becoming his daughter-in-law, forcing him to accept the illicit affair between her and his son.
He had raised and nurtured her for a full ten years, only to produce a child who defied norms and lacked propriety and shame. Yet, even with such profound disappointment in her, he had still granted her wish.
Like a spoiled child, she vented her remorse and pain without restraint. “It must torment you, Feng Yu, doesn’t it? Having become the supreme Emperor, yet bound and constrained at every turn—unable to take concubines as you please, unable to make the woman you love your Empress! You can’t do anything. You’re not half the man he was!”
Feng Yu! She refused to call him ‘Your Majesty’ anymore. The ‘Your Majesty’ she had called for ten years, the one who had truly loved and doted on her, was not the person before her now.
“Zheng Xiangyi!” Feng Yu rushed down from the dais and seized her slender neck in a tight grip. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with the fury of being exposed.
Zheng Xiangyi felt her breath grow labored, yet she didn’t struggle in the slightest. She looked at him calmly, even wishing he would strangle her to death then and there, so she could go to the underworld and atone before the late Emperor.
“Zheng Xiangyi, you’re always like this!” Feng Yu glared at her face with hatred. Her eyes were clear, cold, and stubborn, the upturned corners flushed a deep red, like scattered peach blossoms exuding a fatal allure.
His hand began to tremble slightly. Love and hate intertwined in his gaze, his voice trembling as well. “You’re willful and capricious, unable to bear the slightest grievance, always needing Father to coax you. But I was his child! Why did I always have to be a step beneath you in everything?”
Zheng Xiangyi slowly smiled. The smile was dazzlingly beautiful. Her snow-white neck was within his grasp, lending her an unusual fragility.
Feng Yu’s blood boiled within him. A certain desire clamored and raced through his very bones. He wanted nothing more than to kill her, yet he also adored her exquisite, captivating appearance. This was the flower his father had personally nurtured. Everything he had once craved, everything he had failed to obtain, was now embodied in her.
“Xiangyi…” His voice softened, his palm gently caressing her face. “If you cannot be Empress, you can be Our Noble Consort. She will merely hold the title; she can never surpass you.”
Zheng Xiangyi suddenly stared blankly at his face and called out, “Your Majesty…”
Feng Yu was overjoyed, but soon realized, under her dazed gaze, that the “Your Majesty” she called was not him.
“Your Majesty…” Tears abruptly welled in Zheng Xiangyi’s eyes. Unconsciously, she leaned closer into his embrace, just like every wronged child seeking comfort from their father.
Feng Yu’s entire body stiffened. Ever since the Noble Consort entered the palace, she had never actively drawn close to him. In the past, she had loved gazing at his face, smiling at him. He hadn’t enjoyed such treatment in a long time.
But Zheng Xiangyi quickly regained her senses and pulled away from him.
“So, you and His Majesty look so much alike,” she murmured with a trace of confusion and lingering attachment. Countless images flashed through her mind in an instant, finally settling on those gentle eyes that had gazed upon her.
He had asked her repeatedly: “Xiangyi, if you insist on marrying him, will you regret it?”
Will you regret it?
A torrent of inexplicable emotion crashed over her. Zheng Xiangyi suddenly couldn’t hold back; she clutched her chest, belatedly overwhelmed by despair and anguish.
For the first time since his passing, she broke down completely, weeping uncontrollably.
“I regret it! I can’t see him anymore!”
“I’ll never see him again!”
Why couldn’t she have remained his child for a lifetime? Why did she have to leave him, angering him until he coughed blood? Clearly, he was the only one who had truly cherished her!
“Xiangyi!” Feng Yu had never seen her in such a state of collapse. Worried, he tried to pull her into an embrace, but she pushed him away with a hand.
Zheng Xiangyi wiped away her tears, her gaze deeply fixed on his face.
Feng Yu resembled him by about seventy percent, especially his eyes when they smiled—like a clear spring holding water, cleansing the heart. But his face was more refined and pale; most of the time, he looked more like a frail scholar than an emperor holding sway over the world.
“Feng Yu, I regret it.” After her outburst, Zheng Xiangyi’s heart was unprecedentedly calm.
Feng Yu felt an unprecedented fear enveloping his heart. He gripped her shoulders tightly, his voice harsh. “What do you regret? Zheng Xiangyi, Father is gone. Besides Us, no one can repeatedly endure your willfulness.”
“You are right.” Zheng Xiangyi pried his fingers off, one by one, coldly. “Besides him, no one could have endured me forever.”
Her arrogance, willfulness, domineering nature, her inability to bear the slightest grievance—all were habits he had fostered. Zheng Xiangyi had once thought Feng Yu, who resembled him most, could manage it. But now she realized, no one else could indulge her like that except him.
“Feng Yu, if there is a next life, I will not marry you again.”
She gave him one last, deep look, then turned and walked out the door without the slightest hesitation, step by step, leaving only the howling winter wind that swept a few snowflakes inside.
“Zheng Xiangyi!” A long time later, a roar of fury suddenly erupted from within the hall.
But Zheng Xiangyi had already walked back to the Phoenix Pavilion Palace with utter calm. She dismissed all the palace servants and shut herself alone inside her bedchamber.
This place she had lived in for four years, resplendent with gold and jade, dazzling with treasures, now felt only foreign, desolate, and lonely. The bed where she and Feng Yu had once shared intimacy now seemed especially loathsome, nauseating.
She wanted to destroy it all, destroy the self that was Empress. Then she would only be Princess Deyi, able to return to being the spoiled, willful child he had doted upon.
Calmly, Zheng Xiangyi lit the charcoal brazier. Then, with one hand, she overturned it. The scattered sparks quickly ignited the bed curtains, and flames spread with a whoosh.
She knelt quietly on the floor, wrapped in that snow-white fox-fur cloak, letting the flames consume her.