On the second day of the second lunar month, the weather turned suddenly mild. A gentle spring breeze stirred, carrying light, drifting catkins that fell like snowflakes and dusted the ground with pale frost.
Shu Yun arrived early at the islet in the middle of Swallow Lake, where she met her long-absent fiancé.
“Didn’t the Heir say he must attend His Majesty? How do you have time to seek me out?”
Across from her, the young man in brocade leaned back against a round chair, enduring a pain too unspeakable to name. His face was pallid, almost sickly, his thin eyelids lifting to fix on Shu Yun for a moment before he slowly let slip a bitter smile.
“That day you came to see me, I had no leisure. Today I sought you first, only to tell you—I am well. You needn’t worry…”
Pei Jiangcheng hadn’t wanted to come today, but he had no choice. For days, idle companions had called at his residence, only to be turned away with the excuse of a chill. Somehow word reached the Retired Emperor, who sent palace attendants to inquire. If he did not show himself soon, the truth could not be concealed. No matter what, no one must learn that he had been injured in that place.
He toyed with a string of agate beads in his hand, lips curved in a gentle smile, his tone even tinged with coaxing warmth. “You keep me in your thoughts at every turn. How could I fail to repay such devotion?”
At these words, Shu Yun felt a sudden wave of nausea rise unbidden. She lowered her gaze and murmured, “So long as you are well…”
Pei Jiangcheng then pushed forward a covered bowl of ewe’s milk prepared by his attendants, speaking softly: “You must have risen early for today’s banquet. I wonder if you’ve eaten enough. I worried for you, so I brought this ewe’s milk especially. Drink it while it’s hot.”
His voice was mellow, clear, and gentle—so at odds with his frail, wan appearance that the contrast was striking. As always, his manner overflowed with tender affection, leaving no trace of suspicion.
Moisture welled in Shu Yun’s eyes. Her black-and-white apricot gaze stared blankly at Pei Jiangcheng. How could she reconcile this man—so full of warmth and devotion—with the truth she knew? That he had betrayed her. That while he whispered love to her, he dallied with her cousin.
Shu Yun cradled the bowl of ewe’s milk and sipped delicately.
Pei Jiangcheng watched his gentle fiancée. In the instant her lashes lowered, he let out a silent sigh.
Today she seemed not to have dressed with any special care—only a half-new saffron jacket over a goose-yellow skirt patterned with osmanthus blossoms. A floral sash cinched her waist, from which hung a pendant of green jade. Threads of golden light shimmered along her hem. Her jet-black eyes, bright as pearls, blinked with quiet innocence; her snow-pale skin, apricot-shaped eyes, rosy cheeks, and cherry lips—all together lent her a beauty that could topple cities. Beautiful, yes. But dull. She would not let him kiss her, nor touch her. That face, if placed upon Shu Zhi, would be perfection.
Out of her sight, Pei Jiangcheng’s expression slipped into regret.
When Shu Yun finished drinking, he immediately offered a snow-white handkerchief with a warm smile, then leaned back into a comfortable pose. A trace of weariness and careless ease spilled across his brow.
“Yun Yun, I must attend His Majesty today. I fear I cannot stay with you. The Emperor is a man of strict order—you mustn’t wander about the gardens. If anything happens, I won’t be able to save you.”
Shu Yun clutched the handkerchief and nodded blankly. “I understand…”
The present sovereign was famed for both civil and martial brilliance. While the Retired Emperor still held sway, he commanded the central court and personally led tens of thousands of troops deep into the northern deserts, reviving the Silk Road. For three full years he toured the frontier, fortifying the borders until they were like an iron wall, returning to the capital only last year.
Though Shu Yun had never seen his face, she had heard enough: a young emperor, decisive in war, brimming with vigor.
“Rest easy, Heir. I’ll find my bosom friend and stay quietly in Zhaixing Pavilion. I won’t go anywhere else.”
To keep the young ladies from growing bored if they were not chosen, the Imperial City Guard had arranged music and dance at Zhaixing Pavilion to entertain them.
Pei Jiangcheng was satisfied. As he left, he reached out to stroke Shu Yun’s cheek, but she shrank back in shame and anger. Disappointed, he shook his head and walked away at a leisurely pace.
Shu Yun gazed at his elegant figure as he left, momentarily dazed. She longed to deceive herself, to pretend that what had happened that day was only a misunderstanding. But she could not. Swallowing the bitterness in her heart, she clenched her teeth and instructed Shaoyao: “Follow him quietly. See if the Heir meets with Second Sister.”
She had already told Shaoyao of her plan yesterday, and Shaoyao had made her preparations. Slipping behind a screen, she reversed her outer robe and put it on inside out, disguising herself before trailing after the Heir.
At today’s royal flower-viewing banquet, each household was allowed only a fixed number of attendants. A noblewoman could bring only one maid. Shu Yun had only Shaoyao at her side—clearly not enough. So she went upstairs to find her bosom friend, Wang Youjun, the young lady of Marquis Dongyan’s household.
Wang Youjun was lively and innocent, her nature always in harmony with Shu Yun’s. She greeted her warmly, invited her to sit in a private room, and, seeing Shu Yun’s brows faintly furrowed, asked, “Why so downcast?”
Shu Yun did not explain, but only pleaded, “Good sister, lend me one of your girls.”
Without hesitation, Wang Youjun summoned her trusted maid. Shu Yun instructed the maid to assist Shaoyao, then sat beside Wang Youjun with heavy thoughts, listening to the music. Wang Youjun, however, spoke cheerfully of the day’s banquet. “Yun Yun, today we’re in for quite a show…”
Shu Yun asked absently, “What show?”
Wang Youjun’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Though it’s called a flower-viewing banquet, in truth it’s a consort-selection feast. The Emperor Uncle only returned to the capital recently, and the harem is still empty. It has worried Grandfather and the ministers sorely. Many in the capital have their eyes fixed on the empress position. Here, let me count them for you…”
She ticked off her fingers. “First is Li Ying, granddaughter of the Left Chancellor. Li Ying is praised as the foremost of noble ladies. The only one who can rival her is Princess Yining’s daughter, Xie Yun. Though her father and brothers lack the weight of the Li family, Xie Yun is the Emperor Uncle’s cousin—close at hand, and likely to gain favor…”
Shu Yun nodded politely, but heard none of it. She sat through the morning without word from Shaoyao. Only once did Wang Youjun’s maid return, reporting that the Heir of Huaiyang had spent the morning attending His Majesty in the Qinghe Hall. Shu Yun sipped her tea, her anxious heart easing just a little.
By early afternoon, the maid returned, eyes wide like copper bells, and dropped to her knees before Shu Yun and Wang Youjun, stammering,
“Miss Shu, Shaoyao bade me report— the Heir was seen secretly meeting Second Miss Shu at the western wing of Qinghe Hall…”
At these words, Wang Youjun was the first to startle. She looked at Shu Yun in shock, only to find her not at all surprised—her strength seemed drained away, and she collapsed onto the luohan couch in a daze.
Furious, Wang Youjun slammed the table and helped Shu Yun up. “Come, let’s catch them in the act and demand justice for you!”
Shu Yun froze for a moment, then steadied herself. “No need. Such a disgraceful matter—don’t stain your eyes with it. I’ll go myself.”
Clutching the jade pendant in her palm, she followed the maid swiftly toward the wing.
Perhaps because the suspicion had weighed on her heart too long, now that the truth was laid bare, Shu Yun felt calmer than expected. There was no need to rage over a faithless man, nor to grieve for him—he was not worth it. But when she peered through the crack of the teahouse door and saw the pair inside, whispering sweet nothings, her fury flared hot from her brow.
No time for her, yet here he was in secret tryst with her cousin. The lips that once coaxed her with tender words now pressed lightly against her cousin’s. Her cousin’s robes had loosened, the bodice slipping to reveal a swath of pale fullness, while the Heir’s broad hand eagerly covered it.
Enough.
Shu Yun felt sick to her stomach. She shoved the door open with a crash.
The startled lovers jumped apart. Shu Zhi had expected discovery, but not Shu Yun arriving so quickly. A flicker of surprise crossed her eyes, yet there was no shame or guilt—only feigned grievance as she clutched her clothes and leaned coyly against the Heir, shrinking into his arms with tears.
“Yun Yun, you misunderstand—it was only that the Heir was drunk and mistook me for someone else…”
Shu Yun did not spare her a glance. Her clear, cold eyes fixed on the Heir. She had thought he might show some remorse, but after a brief pause, his expression returned to normal. Instead, he brazenly tightened his hold on Shu Zhi and said with reckless arrogance: “Yun Yun, since you’ve seen it, I won’t hide it. When Father first betrothed you to me, I was unwilling. Only because you were so meek and gentle, I couldn’t bear to hurt you—so I played along all this time…”
Shu Yun nearly fell ill from rage—*a play*, he called it. A whole year of their life together, dismissed with that single word.
“Truth is, I never feared you would find out. In fact, I’ve been waiting for you to discover it. How could you be so foolish? You should have realized long ago.”
That tone of self-righteousness, that skill at turning blame back on her—it was exactly like Princess Consort Huaiyang.
At his words, Shu Zhi lifted her chin and looked at Shu Yun with open provocation, her eyes brimming with smug triumph.
Shu Yun closed her eyes, feeling smoke rise from her very organs. So this was the truth: Pei Jiangcheng, Heir of Prince Huaiyang’s household, lofty in rank, had never truly regarded her. And Shu Zhi’s father, though only a minor third-rank official at the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, still held enough power to crush the daughter of a mere sixth-rank academic officer. They had never cared for her at all. Her position was humble, and her words carried little weight; saying anything more would be of no avail.
Forcing herself to calm, Shu Yun walked with dignity to the Heir and flung the jade pendant she had worn smooth with her touch into his arms. “Take it back!”
She would not slink away in defeat. A thought struck her, and her gaze flicked deliberately toward the Heir’s lower body.
“You’re right, my lord. I’ve had enough of this play, too. Who would want a half-crippled man?” Her tone was cool, stripped of her usual softness, carrying a sense of release instead. “If my cousin wishes to shoulder this burden, I am grateful. You two are well matched.”
Her bright eyes blinked once, her voice rising with proud scorn. “As for me—even if I must take a simpleton for a husband, I would never choose a useless man like you!”
Each word was like a needle, stabbing straight into the Heir’s lungs.
Hearing those words, Shu Zhi felt a pang of dread. She cast a suspicious glance at the Heir.
His handsome face flushed scarlet, his expression twisted with fury as he scrambled up, clawing at the air. “You wretched girl—what nonsense are you spouting…!”
Shu Yun curled her lips, her look saying plainly: You know the truth yourself.
Just then, a loud commotion rose outside the wing, as though a crowd had surged forward. The doors swung wide, flooding the room with light. Under the weight of countless shocked gazes, Shu Yun’s eyes reddened as she declared with iron resolve: “Pei Jiangcheng, our betrothal is over.”
Shu Yun rushed out of the wing in one breath. A wave of warmth struck her face—the waters of Swallow Lake were fed by geothermal springs, warmer than those outside. Though branches beyond the garden had only just begun to bud, here spring was already in full bloom, fragrant and lush.
She lifted her gaze to the bright sky and drew a deep breath, as if to expel all the foul air from her body. The past year felt like a dream. Standing still for a moment, she turned to look around. Only the Wang household maids were present—Shaoyao was nowhere in sight.
“Where is Shaoyao?”
One maid replied, “As you instructed, she’s keeping watch on Second Miss Shu’s servant. That girl is sly—Shaoyao fears she won’t be able to handle her quickly.”
Shu Yun nodded. Today’s scheme was clearly Shu Zhi’s handiwork, and Shu Zhi’s actions would leave traces. The breakthrough lay with that servant. Shu Yun would not swallow this humiliation in silence. She had ordered Shaoyao to seize the girl, and after a moment’s thought, she said,
“Go help her. If you catch the servant, bring her straight to the gate—Nanny will be waiting there.”
The Retired Emperor intended to choose a consort for His Majesty, and the entire imperial household treated the matter with utmost gravity. Though only young ladies and noble sons were permitted into the garden, the matriarchs of each family waited anxiously in the teahouses outside for news. Presiding for the Shu family that day was the Second Madam, who managed household affairs. Uneasy about her daughter, Madam Su also sent her trusted nurse, Nanny Shan, to await instructions.
Shu Yun had already left word with Nanny Shan—seasoned and shrewd, she knew exactly what to do.
The Wang family maid, eager to seize the troublesome servant, departed cheerfully.
Shu Yun, left alone, returned to Zhaixing Pavilion, despondent. There she learned the matter had already spread.
Her cousin, it seemed, had skill. She had secretly ordered her maid to bribe the Heir’s attendants, who then carried word to the Princess Consort Huaiyang. The princess consort immediately sealed off the wing to protect her son’s reputation. The Heir, bold as ever, admitted the affair outright. Since the girl was the daughter of the Court of Sacrifices minister, the scandal reached the Retired Emperor himself. Seeing matters had gone so far, the princess consort could only go along with it.
But Prince Huaiyang refused—how could he face Shu Yun’s father? In fury, he flogged his son before the Retired Emperor.
The Heir claimed drunkenness, insisting that since he had already shared intimacy with Shu Zhi, he was bound to marry her. In the end, the Retired Emperor smoothed things over, decreeing Shu Zhi’s betrothal to Pei Jiangcheng, and promising Shu Yun a fine match elsewhere. Prince Huaiyang fainted with rage, but had no choice but to agree.
Thus the matter ended hastily. By late afternoon, Shu Yun’s betrothal token was returned to her by the Princess Consort.
When Wang Youjun heard the whole tale, she supported the downcast Shu Yun and said, “Yun Yun, as the saying goes, ‘A blessing may come in disguise.’ Such a scoundrel is not worth keeping. Come, let me drink with you until the gloom is gone—we shall not leave sober.”
Shu Yun thought of the past year—though outwardly glorious, it had been exhausting. To tread carefully, forever pleasing another, was no lasting way. Now that the betrothal was broken, the shackles fell away. She smiled faintly, lifted her cup, and said, “Good. Freed from that faithless man, let us drink deep.”
With Wang Youjun’s encouragement, the heaviness in her heart began to ease. The two lively young women drank together, laughing and exchanging cups, from sunset until dusk fell.
When night descended and lanterns were lit, the maids had yet to return, but their mistresses were already drunk. Wang Youjun, tipsy, pulled Shu Yun up to the pavilion’s top floor to admire the lanterns. Outside, the stars glittered, and the lights stretched like ribbons across the night.
Halfway through, Wang Youjun stumbled off in search of the privy, leaving Shu Yun alone in the pavilion.
Wine surged through Shu Yun’s veins; her body flushed with heat, her delicate face rosy. Dazed, she climbed to the railing and sat, her slender figure silhouetted against the night sky.