At dusk, in the imperial capital.
The last rays of the setting sun spilled across the white marble steps, casting the pillars beneath the long corridor into rigid shadows, as if bars imprisoned the light.
In the hush of silence, the measured footsteps of a woman broke the stillness—her bearing dignified, her pace steady.
Palace attendants along the way quickly withdrew to the walls, bowing low: “Your Majesty, the Empress.”
Half veiled in shadow and light, the Empress’s face remained composed, unreadable. When she reached the palace gates, she exhaled softly, gathering her expression back into silence.
The attendants lifted the brocade curtain embroidered with dragons, and the Empress stepped inside. Lowering her head, she saluted: “Greetings to Your Majesty.”
A gust of wind swept into the hall, stirring pale smoke. The Emperor stood disheveled, hair loose, clad in a gray Daoist robe. He ignored the Empress, bending instead to shield the flickering flame as he lit a lantern of prayer, signaling for it to be released. When the ritual was done, he straightened, flicked the firestick in his hand, and said: “The Empress has come. You know why I summoned you.”
The Empress’s brows tightened ever so slightly. Though husband and wife in name, their hearts had long since drifted apart. Outside of grand ceremonies, they avoided each other whenever possible.
This sudden summons could only be about the princess—the daughter of the late Noble Consort—lost to the world.
Indeed, the Emperor wiped his hands and accepted a jade pendant carved in the shape of a Bodhisattva from a eunuch. Though the stone was not precious, the workmanship was exquisite.
The Empress recognized it at once: the token of love he had once crafted for the Noble Consort. Later, it was passed to their daughter, until twelve years ago, when the princess vanished—and the jade disappeared with her. Now, returned to the palace, it carried with it the trace of the missing princess.
The Emperor caressed the pendant, eyes filled with longing. “The Qinglong Guard found this in a pawnshop. My daughter with Miao’er must have fallen into hardship to have pawned it.”
The Empress, unmoved by his joy, replied coolly: “Your Majesty, for more than a decade every rumor of the princess has proved false. I fear this too may be uncertain.”
Doused with cold words, the Emperor did not grow angry. He only said firmly: “A child of the royal blood must never wander destitute. This jade is proof beyond doubt. This time, it cannot be ignored.”
The Empress let out a soft laugh.
The Emperor only spoke so gently because he needed the Crown Prince to investigate. These days, he could no longer “command” the Prince at will.
As expected, the Emperor continued on his own: “The Crown Prince is on tour. He arrived in Pingzhou not long ago, near the pawnshop where this jade was found. Let him verify its authenticity. If all is well, brother and sister can return together to Changjing.”
No matter how well she understood an emperor’s ruthlessness, the Empress could not help but feel a knot in her heart.
The Emperor’s love for his Noble Consort had been deep and enduring, a devotion that seemed to move heaven itself. Even after she passed away, he remained haunted by her memory. Yet he had never spared a thought for the Crown Prince—his own son—or for how she and the Crown Prince had endured those years. Now, when he needed the Crown Prince’s service, suddenly he remembered, calling them “brother and sister” with ease.
Words caught in the Empress’s throat. She shut her eyes heavily and said: “Your Majesty, to send the Crown Prince running about for this matter seems rather…”
The Emperor cut her off: “You mean to say this is trivial?”
The Empress fell silent.
As the imperial couple stood in tense opposition, a voice rang from the doorway: “Reporting to His Majesty, Lady Ming Yuan requests an audience.”
The Empress started. Ming Yuan was a maid of the Empress Dowager, her trusted envoy within the palace, and bearer of the Empress Dowager’s decrees. Even the Crown Prince would show her respect.
This missing princess had long been the Empress Dowager’s heartache. Clearly, the Empress Dowager now intended to intervene.
Ming Yuan entered with her head lowered, her tone calm and measured: “By order of the Empress Dowager: the royal bloodline must not be treated lightly. The Crown Prince must carefully discern the truth. Should the princess be restored to the palace, it will be a cause for great rejoicing.”
Zhang County, under the jurisdiction of Yanzhou in Henan Circuit, was a place where the people lived in peace and prosperity. This particular street was bustling—vendors and porters crowded shoulder to shoulder, pedestrians brushing past one another.
A vermilion-lacquered rosewood carriage rolled through the dust. Even with fine horses, progress was slow amid the throng.
Suddenly, cries from the intersection forced the wheels to halt:
“My son!”
“My poor child!”
A middle-aged couple, about forty, dressed in ragged clothes with straw markers pinned to them, knelt on the ground, weeping with theatrical grief. Behind them lay a young girl, half her face covered by a tattered straw mat. Her exposed cheek was thin and pale, yet her delicate features showed she had once been strikingly pretty.
Between sobs, the couple begged: “Kind sirs, have mercy! We are from Ye County, came to Zhang County to make a living. But our youngest daughter fell ill with an incurable disease. We spent everything we had, yet could not save her. Yesterday she abandoned us, returning to Heaven!”
“Alas, we have toiled half our lives, yet cannot even afford a coffin for our child!”
The woman struck the man beside her: “It’s all your fault! If I suffer, so be it—but how could you let the child suffer? You’ve killed us all!”
The man wept bitterly.
Parents’ hearts are pitiful the world over. Some onlookers stopped to watch; others tossed a few copper coins onto the straw mat, offering what little help they could.
The vermilion carriage stood nearby. The driver had a delicate, almost feminine face. He stared at the shabby mat, his feelings conflicted. His name was Chang Ying, chief eunuch of the Eastern Palace. He had come by order of the Crown Prince to meet the girl who had pawned the Bodhisattva jade pendant. In truth, such a matter should never have troubled the Crown Prince. Any one of the Crown Prince’s men could have handled it neatly and well.
The Crown Prince’s personal presence was not only due to the Empress Dowager’s will—more importantly, this time the matter could not be handled carelessly. Yet who could have foreseen such a scene upon arrival? The girl was already dead—and only within the past two days.
Could it be Heaven itself knew this task was unjust and took her away? The timing was too uncanny, and it would be difficult to explain back at the palace.
Uneasy, Chang Ying tugged at the reins, stepped down from the carriage, and lifted the curtain at the window. Bowing respectfully, he said: “Your Highness, that one is gone. Shall I go and see more closely?”
Inside, Crown Prince Li Xuan rested his arm on the wooden window ledge, a sleeve of dark silk embroidered with precious floral patterns falling into view. He tapped lightly with his forefinger against the frame. The pale daylight cut across his knuckles, and that single finger gleamed cold and fine, like carved white jade.
Chang Ying lowered his head and dared not speak further.
The couple continued their lament for some time, drawing whispers from the crowd:
“What a sin…”
“They’ve hands and feet—why beg like this…”
Even as they spoke, heavy clouds gathered in the sky. A sudden wind swept the street, dust stinging eyes, forcing Chang Ying to raise his sleeve against the grit.
Around them, people cried out: “Not good—it’s going to pour!”
In this season, storms in Zhang County came fierce and sudden. Merchants scrambled to pack their goods and flee. The middle-aged couple, too, abandoned their wailing, hurriedly “closing their stall.”
They shook the “corpse” behind them, calling: “Chun’er, wake up! It’s going to rain—quickly, let’s go!”
In the next instant, the “corpse” snapped open her eyes. At first still drowsy, she blinked at the ominous sky, then rolled up to her feet. The powder on her face crumbled away in flakes. Strands of hair brushed across her clear eyes—eyes like glazed crystal, ink-dark yet luminous. As she glanced about, they shimmered like fireflies in flight, scattering light with every turn.
Li Xuan’s fingertip remained poised against the window frame.
Chang Ying stared, dumbfounded. “This…”
Most people were busy fleeing the rain, paying little attention to the “resurrection” before them. Yet a few pointed angrily at the couple and the girl: “So they’re frauds!”
The girl scooped up the scattered copper coins, her face apologetic. To avoid being seized, she bolted after her parents.
Their flight brought them directly before Chang Ying and the carriage. He had no intention of stopping them but feared assassins might exploit the chaos. Even with hidden guards stationed nearby, he dared not relax. He braced himself, shielding the carriage, narrowing the already cramped passageway.
“Make way!” The man’s face flushed dark as liver, forcing himself past Chang Ying while dragging his wife and daughter along.
“Impudent! Do you realize—” Chang Ying began, but before he could finish, the girl—pulled along by her father—collided with his shoulder.
Never had he imagined that, though she looked slender, she struck like a hammer’s blow. The impact left him reeling, clutching the carriage to keep from falling.
Chang Ying: “Ah! There’s—”
From inside the carriage came a cold voice: “Chang Ying.”
Chang Ying’s reason returned just in time; he nearly cried out “Assassins!”—which would have exposed the Crown Prince’s whereabouts. As for those three wandering tricksters, they squeezed through the passage and bolted away.
Chang Ying rubbed his shoulder and turned back. At that moment, the young girl also looked back at him. Perhaps because she had accidentally bumped into him, she gave him an apologetic smile. That smile was like a spring breeze brushing against willow branches—refreshing, soothing, and impossible to resist.
Chang Ying froze. Li Xuan asked, “What’s wrong?”
Chang Ying wanted to complain about the girl, but she might well be a princess in hiding. And that final smile of hers dissolved his irritation. He said, “Reporting to Master, this young lady at least knows her manners.”
Li Xuan said nothing, only tapped his fingers lightly against the window frame, the rhythm swallowed by the sound of wind and rain.
Meanwhile, Chunfeng and her parents had run far enough to escape a beating. Panting hard, they were soon drenched by fat raindrops.
Her father quickly stripped off his outer garment and covered Chun Feng and her mother’s heads, earning a scolding: “Filthy! Find shelter before we catch cold—we can’t afford illness!”
In Chun Feng’s hand were seven copper coins, plus five her mother had accepted—barely twelve in total. Enough for the next meal, though it would be no more than steamed buns and pickled vegetables. She couldn’t help glancing back, eyes narrowed against the rain curtain, searching for that carriage.
Her mother, pulling her under the thatched eaves, noticed her gaze. “Still looking at that carriage?”
Chun Feng murmured, “Mm. You can tell it’s rich.”
Her mother sighed with envy. “It’s fine stuff, that’s for sure.”
Though from a humble background, they weren’t blind to quality. The carriage’s design was understated, but the materials were exquisite. The driver’s clothes seemed ordinary, yet the workmanship was refined. His protective stance around the carriage showed the passenger must be someone of great importance—someone they could never afford to offend.
Chun Feng puffed her cheeks and muttered, “If only we could snatch it, we wouldn’t have to stand here in the rain.”
Father and Mother: “…”