For Chun Feng, dozing off in the Eastern Palace study was inevitable. The room was warm and drowsy, the faint scent of mugwort lingering at her nose, while Li Xuan’s steady, monotonous conversation with the ministers droned in her ears.
Besides, Lin Qingxiao’s letter had reassured her—Lin Qingxiao was living well and urged her to embrace her role as princess. That loosened the taut strings of her heart, and she slipped unguarded into sleep.
The heat of the study, mixed with the faint scorched aroma of burning mugwort, carried her back to the mountain fire in Bazhou five years ago.
Though Linjia Village had been spared, the air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke. Villagers organized themselves, running about to scout the fire’s progress. One moment someone claimed it was extinguished; the next, it was spreading closer—panic rippled through the community.
At last, Yu Xiujun decided the family should leave the village for safety. As neighbors who had long supported each other, they departed together with Lin Qingxiao’s household.
Lin Qingxiao held Chun Feng’s hand. The two girls carried a small bundle on their backs and followed the adults. On the road, their water was nearly gone. The adults went searching for more. Chun Feng and Lin Qingxiao rested behind a rock, waiting half a day without seeing their parents return. Anxiety weighed heavily on them.
Lin Qingxiao gave Chun Feng the last sip of water. Chun Feng couldn’t bear to drink it, only licking her dry lips.
Lin Qingxiao murmured, “If Linjia Village burns down, I don’t know where we’ll go.”
Chun Feng replied, “We’ll reincarnate.”
Lin Qingxiao: “Shut up.”
After a while, seeing her truly fall silent, Lin Qingxiao teased, “Then what would you want to be reborn as?”
Chun Feng remembered the New Year’s plays at the village stage. In those stories, the “princess” was always breaking apart lovers, feared by everyone. Being a princess must be delightful. She said, “I want to be reborn as a princess, just to catch scholars and marry them.”
Lin Qingxiao: “…”
“…”
Chun Feng’s eyes flew open. If not for this dream, she would have forgotten her childish words at eleven. Yet fate had twisted strangely—her careless jest had come true. She had, against all odds, become a royal princess.
Still caught in the hazy, dreamlike mood, she pressed her palms together and silently prayed: Whichever immortal granted my wish before, let me make another—this “scholar” must be dazzlingly handsome, and if he can outshine the Crown Prince, all the better.
The thought of one day riding on Li Xuan’s head made her secretly chuckle.
Hearing movement, Xiang Rui called from outside the curtains: “Has the Princess risen?”
Chun Feng lifted the quilt. “I’m up.”
While washing, she asked Xiang Rui, “Wasn’t I in the Eastern Palace yesterday? How did I get back?”
Hui’er and Fen’er giggled. “We carried the Princess back high above our heads.”
Chun Feng: “Really?”
Hui’er leaned close. “Truly. My arms are still sore—perhaps the Princess could massage them?”
Chun Feng actually reached out to oblige.
Xiang Rui quickly stopped her, glaring at Hui’er, then smiled: “Don’t listen to this girl’s nonsense.” She pointed to the blanket hanging on the screen. “Yesterday I borrowed this from Eunuch Chang Ying, wrapped the Princess in it, and carried her into a soft sedan chair. Luckily the two palaces are close, or you might have caught a chill.”
The wool blanket was thick yet soft, its Persian pattern vivid and intricate—clearly a rare treasure.
Chun Feng’s eyes sparkled. Hugging it, she asked, “Is this mine now?”
Xiang Rui: “Yes.”
Chun Feng muttered, “Chang Ying is so kind.” She had lost count of how many times he had helped her.
After happily finishing breakfast, Fen’er lifted the felt curtain and entered. “Princess, Eunuch Kang has arrived.”
Chun Feng: “Ah… oh, it’s him.”
Ever since Li Xuan had first dragged her to the Eastern Palace, she had found no rescue from Eunuch Kang, and they hadn’t met in a long while.
Because of the Winter Solstice Grand Sacrifice, the Emperor had “come out of seclusion.”
Sure enough, Eunuch Kang had come to deliver the joyful news. Flicking his whisk, he said, “His Majesty misses the Princess and summons you to the Taiji Palace.”
Chun Feng: “All right.”
Outside, the north wind howled. She wrapped herself in a cloak, cradled a hand warmer, and went with Xiang Rui to the Taiji Palace.
Even without the princess present, the Furong Pavilion was noisy as ever. Because their mistress was indulgent, the palace attendants had grown lax. Several young maids were playing leaf games, coins scattered across the table.
Suddenly, a eunuch outside called: “Aunt Yao Zhi is here.”
The group scattered in a rush. Hui’er hurried out to greet her: “Aunt Yao Zhi, what brings you at this hour?”
Yao Zhi glanced at them but thought little of it. Her mind was only on one thing: “The princess’s Winter Solstice robes are finished. The Empress ordered me to bring her to Xingning Palace to try them on, and then have a cup of hot sweet tea. Where is the princess?”
Hui’er explained: “Eunuch Kang came this morning. The princess went to the Taiji Palace.”
Yao Zhi: “I see.”
Thinking of the Emperor taking new elixirs, unease pricked at her. She hurried back toward Xingning Palace.
The Taiji Palace lay at the very heart of the imperial city, the largest of all, with attendants rushing to and fro. From time to time, someone released a sky lantern into the air.
After some time apart, the Emperor looked much thinner. Chun Feng was startled. Yet though he ought to appear worn, his spirit was strangely bright—almost feverishly so.
He smiled and asked her, “How have you been living in the palace these days?”
Chun Feng: “Replying to Father Emperor, very well.”
The next moment, his mood sank. He said heavily, “Last night I dreamed of your mother. She told me to take good care of you.”
At first Chun Feng thought of Yu Xiujun, then realized he meant Consort Lin. She was touched—Consort Lin had been a good person too.
The Emperor: “Would you like to see your mother?”
Chun Feng froze. “Ah?”
How could she see her? Did it mean she must die too?
Two young Daoists entered, carrying a tray. Upon it sat a jade-green bowl holding three small black pills.
Chun Feng felt at once that the pills were no good.
The Emperor carefully picked one up and held it out to her. “Come, if you swallow this, you can see your mother.”
She shook her head. “Father Emperor, I don’t want to eat it.”
In the next instant—bang!—the Emperor suddenly smashed the pill in the Daoist’s hand. Just moments ago he had guarded it closely, yet now he crushed it without hesitation.
Chun Feng jumped in fright, stepping back two paces. She had never heard of Daoist practice driving one mad.
But the palace attendants were already accustomed to such scenes. They all dropped to their knees, foreheads pressed to the floor, terrified to meet the Emperor’s gaze.
The Emperor looked nothing like a man of cultivation. His emotions swung wildly, and now, as if forcing down his fury, he ground his teeth and said: “You refuse to see her—have you completely forgotten who your mother was?”
“I told you not to go to Xingning Palace. You promised me, yet you still went.”
Chun Feng pressed her lips together. Xiang Rui sensed danger and quickly stepped in front of her. “Your Majesty!”
The Emperor kicked Xiang Rui hard. She clutched her stomach, retching, yet still shielded Chun Feng. “Your Majesty, the princess is but a child. How can you reproach her with old grievances?”
Seeing the Emperor aim another kick at Xiang Rui’s chest, Chun Feng shoved her aside, crying out for her to dodge.
“Princess!” Xiang Rui gasped.
Fortunately, Chun Feng herself tumbled forward, narrowly avoiding the blow.
The Emperor’s kick struck only air. He staggered, nearly deranged, pointing at Chun Feng: “Do you know your mother and the Empress were mortal enemies? You acknowledge a thief as mother—how can your true mother rest easy in heaven!”
The Empress and her retinue rushed into the Taiji Palace, only to see the Emperor raging at Chun Feng.
At the words “acknowledge a thief as mother,” the Empress’s breath caught. Darkness swam before her eyes, and a bitter taste rose at the root of her tongue. All the deepest humiliations and pains of her life had come from the man who once shared her pillow. Even in middle age, she could still be defiled by his words—like being drenched in foul water that never washed away, leaving her nauseated, trapped, unable to escape.
Chun Feng lifted her head, eyes bright, and shot back at the Emperor:
“So you’re saying they fought often? Then when they fought, what were *you* doing?”
The Emperor, burning with fury, was suddenly jolted by her question—his clarity flickered back for an instant. “What?” He stared at Chun Feng, breath quickening, limbs twitching.
The Empress Dowager struck her cane hard against the floor. “Are you all dead? Restrain His Majesty at once!”
At her command, several strong eunuchs seized the Emperor, the hall erupting into chaos.
The Empress rushed inside, quickly helping Chun Feng to her feet.
Chun Feng exhaled shakily.
The Empress dared not meet her eyes. After a pause, she forced her trembling hand to pat the girl’s thin shoulder, whispering, “It’s all right. Don’t be afraid.” Her own shoulder was gently patted in return.
Chun Feng said, “You don’t be afraid either.”
In that instant, tears streamed down the woman’s face.