Lan Shu still remembered the day she died, in the bitter cold of the twelfth lunar month.
Only a few gray withered branches remained in the courtyard, slanting outside the window. Occasionally, birds would land on them, pausing briefly before fluttering their wings and flying over the high walls.
She had just sent her daughter away and written the final word on parchment when—with a loud crash—the heavy courtyard gate was forced open.
A group of guards holding torches surrounded the courtyard.
The woman leading them carried a pot of wine in her hands and strode into the room with her head held high: “Miss Shen, I am a servant from the palace, ordered to deliver medicine to you. This is the medicine bestowed upon you by His Majesty.”
With a gesture from her, the guards sealed off the room completely.
Xue Ji watched as the woman silently gazed at the bleak winter scenery outside the window. She was extraordinarily beautiful, her lips slightly pursed, her almond-shaped eyes clear and bright. A simple ivory-colored ruqun draped her slender figure, and her black hair cascaded down her back, with a strand lifted by the cold wind brushing against her delicate jaw.
Even the lingering twilight seemed to favor her, lingering on her face as if unwilling to depart.
“His Majesty?”
Xue Ji poured a cup of wine, the liquid bubbling with a sizzling foam. She remarked meaningfully, “Tomorrow is the coronation ceremony of His Highness Prince Yong. His Majesty and Miss Xie, the lovers, are finally united. As for those who are superfluous, they are nothing but thorns in His Majesty’s heart.”
“If they are thorns, they should be thoroughly removed.”
Lan Shu stared blankly at the cup of wine, forgetting even to shed tears.
Her lovely features, like withered flowers, instantly lost all their radiance.
She had anticipated this day.
Yet when it truly arrived, she still felt sorrow.
Seven years ago, Lan Shu lost both her parents and traveled alone to the northwest to seek refuge with her uncle.
During her two years in the northwest, she blossomed, her already beautiful appearance becoming even more captivating. As soon as she reached the age of fifteen, her uncle sought to send her to Prince Yong’s bed.
Prince Yong was the seventh son of the emperor, forced to leave the capital and garrison the northwest after his birth mother fell into disgrace.
Lan Shu feared him. On the way to the prince’s residence, she attempted to flee but was intercepted at the city gates.
She thought that being caught would mean death or severe punishment, but to her surprise, when her uncle was about to reprimand her for escaping, it was he who stepped in to shield her.
Lan Shu thus came to live in the prince’s residence. As the only woman there, three years passed in the blink of an eye. Day and night, they were in each other’s company, and it was unclear who had fallen in love first.
One day, he told her they would go to the capital together. His birth mother was suffering in the capital, and he wanted to rescue her. Lan Shu also missed her own mother; she understood him, so she said, wherever he went, she would always accompany him.
She knew this man was no ordinary being confined to a pond. Exiled to the northwest at fifteen, he bided his time for five years, then led his iron cavalry northward, seizing control of the capital’s situation with an iron fist.
Lan Shu followed him to the capital, where he settled her in a villa on the outskirts of the city.
But ever since arriving in the capital, she seldom saw him.
One day, two days.
One year, two years.
She spent her days in waiting.
He was not there when she was pregnant, nor was he there when she gave birth to a daughter.
Lan Shu had never been separated from him for so long; she missed him terribly.
But the villa was guarded by his personal soldiers. They said it was dangerous outside and would not let her leave.
Later, however, she heard that he had a childhood sweetheart in the capital.
The woman was the legitimate eldest daughter of the Duke of Chu Manor, born into nobility. In her childhood, she had been verbally betrothed to Prince Yong.
He was busy rekindling his old romance with Miss Xie in the capital, naturally forgetting that someone still waited for him in the suburban villa.
Later, she overheard him telling his friend, “She’s just an external consort, not worth the trouble.”
So this was how insignificant she was to him.
No wonder he refused to bring her back to the capital, unwilling to let others know of her existence.
She should have realized it sooner – ever since arriving in the capital, she had repeatedly heard the villa servants discussing him and that Miss Xie.
They spoke of their deep youthful affection, how Xie would be appointed empress once Prince Yong ascended the throne, and how the woman in this villa could be disposed of at will.
Such whispers grew more frequent, while the villa guards became increasingly strict.
Lan Shu grew terrified and wanted to escape with her child.
But her health was too poor, fearing she would become a burden, she could only let Chun Ming take their daughter Sui An away first.
To him, she was merely a comfort during his humble days, an inconsequential external consort.
She had accompanied him for five years in the northwest, witnessing countless moments of his frustration.
Now that he had achieved fame and success, he would probably never want to see her again.
So he had long decided how to dispose of her.
Just a handful of yellow earth hastily covering her remains.
……
“Miss Shen, please go in peace. His Majesty will consider this matter settled.”
Guards tightly secured the main gate as Xue Ji stood unwavering before her.
This cup of wine she must drink, whether willing or not.
After drinking the wine, the courtyard suddenly became empty, as if no one had ever been there.
Lan Shu struggled to walk out of the chamber, standing in the courtyard as teardrops fell one by one onto the snowy ground.
He could have told her earlier – he had saved her life, so if he truly wanted her dead, how could she refuse?
The poisoned wine seared through her intestines as Lan Shu collapsed in the snow.
The world before her eyes suddenly became bizarre and distorted.
Excruciating pain made her curl up uncontrollably, tears falling like broken pearls as her hands scrambled blindly for something to hold, leaving frantic scratches on the ground.
“Your Highness…”
Lan Shu murmured, as if hallucinating.
She remembered their first meeting, when he lifted her out of the broken oxcart where she had been hiding to escape, his youthful voice clear and gentle:
“Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you.”
And so, for the next five years, she had regarded him as her only anchor.
Unfortunately, it was all misplaced devotion after all.
Lan Shu’s hands clutching her robe gradually loosened, blood slowly trickling from the corner of her mouth.
It was the end of January in the thirty-second year of Yong’an. She had been in the capital for nearly two years, trapped in this square-walled villa for two years.
Her entire life had been like rootless duckweed, drifting with the currents.
Neither life nor death had ever been hers to decide.
Moments later, all fell silent.
Frost flew and snow fell, gradually burying the woman’s body in the courtyard, leaving only a Begonia Jade Hairpin fallen beside her, its blue jade petals glowing with a mournful luster.
In the capital.
The new emperor ascended the throne, receiving homage from all subjects.
The man in dragon robes appeared more majestic and imposing than ever.
Just as he was about to ascend the high platform, someone frantically broke through the imperial guards and whispered something in his ear.
No one knew what had happened, but they saw the new emperor’s face suddenly pale before he hurriedly descended from the platform in disarray.
The crowd buzzed with discussion – with the Emperor gone, what would become of the coronation ceremony?
Snow fell thick and fast, veiling heaven and earth in a vast expanse of white.
The man whipped his horse relentlessly, never before had the capital seemed so immense—so boundless that the road ahead appeared to stretch into eternity.
Behind him lay the abandoned court officials and countless commoners.
The snow churned up by the horse’s hooves billowed like funeral banners, drifting silently to a soundless elegy.