The princess curled her lips. She spoke politely, slowly: “As long as Old Wang is happy, that’s what matters.”
“Am I really that happy?” The old man tried to hide his grin.
Yu Sangsang handed him the silver mirror, letting him see his own face beaming with joy.
The elder in plain robes chuckled awkwardly twice. “So, what exactly brings the sovereign here?”
Fourteen years without a single visit to the mausoleum—don’t talk of missing his daughter. That was never real. And don’t claim it’s to honor the ancestors. In all these years, the King of Dayu never once showed his face here; clearly, he never kept his forebears in mind. Since he was such a heartless man, his sudden arrival could not be without purpose.
Yu Sangsang narrowed her eyes, calculating her own meager cultivation, then measuring her scoundrel father’s strength and the number of guards at his side. She decided—for now—it was wiser to lie low.
Still, a strange premonition stirred in her chest. She felt certain his visit had something to do with her. Better to ask and be prepared than be caught off guard.
She never once called him “father” when she spoke of him—utterly disrespectful.
Yet the elder in plain robes was too delighted to notice, only shaking his head with a smile: “Didn’t he say he came to see you…?” Then, glancing skyward, he added, “And to pay respects to the ancestors, perhaps.”
Clearly, his earlier words about “coming to see you” were nothing but a placating lie.
Yu Sangsang nodded, giving him face without pressing further.
“Well then…” Old Wang rubbed his hands together.
“Let us all receive the sovereign properly.”
Yu Sangsang never thought it wrong for people to long for higher ground. Everyone in this mausoleum wished to return to the splendor of the palace, to escape hardship—what was wrong with that? Did she herself not dream of leaving this cage for a better life?
“The King’s visit is for you all to attend to with care.” She looked at the few attendants gathered before her because of the king’s impending arrival: An elder so aged he was barely holding on, a gaunt old nurse, the small gardener who had tended the mausoleum for over a decade, the cook who kept them fed… Suddenly, she smiled at them with genuine warmth. After all, when this body was only three years old, stripped of everything and cast out here, her cold-hearted father had cared nothing for her survival. Yet these people—though each with their own small motives—had raised her with care, shielding her in her weakest years, giving her protection and nurture when she had none.
Perhaps because the moment of parting was near, she drew in a deep breath and lifted her gaze to the clear sky. Her eyes fell upon them, and she bowed with solemn sincerity. “Through these years, I thank you all for raising me.”
Though her days had been austere, she had never lacked clothing or warmth.
Yu Sangsang had read many historical tales in the modern world; she knew that fallen royals often fared worse than common servants, their lives reduced to misery. Yet this princess, though cast aside, had still managed to grow up safely.
“All that has passed, I hold in my heart. May each of you find smooth paths ahead, and may your wishes be fulfilled.” She blessed them with hopes of returning to prosperity, of gaining all they desired.
Such words came from the depths of her heart. Even though Yu Sangsang had only been here a few days, she was willing to shoulder the karmic ties left behind by Yu Xian’er.
The brightness of her smile left everyone momentarily stunned. Old Wang stared at her, lips trembling, then exchanged glances with the others before murmuring softly, “We borrow your auspicious words. May our wishes… may our wishes come true.” He clasped his hands in salute before turning back to his duties. Though fallen from favor, he had once served the former sovereign, and within this mausoleum, he still held authority.
Watching him direct the others to this task and that, Yu Sangsang smiled faintly. She herself was idle now, and it was the perfect chance—while the others were occupied—to strengthen her qi sea. Though she had only just begun cultivating, her spiritual energy was already well contained, leaving her outwardly no different from an ordinary person. That must be the power of a superior cultivation method—concealing her depth from prying eyes.
Yu Sangsang gave herself a silent thumbs-up. She busied herself with consolidating her cultivation, taking stock of the treasures in her little silver bracelet, and planning when she might leave Dayu—never imagining that the sovereign of Dayu would arrive even sooner.
Within just a few days, the once‑silent imperial mausoleum grew lively. Beyond its gates, countless banners gathered, carriages and fine steeds paraded in splendor, a scene of endless luxury. The guards who usually kept the mausoleum sealed like an iron fortress now stepped aside, opening the great doors.
Old Wang stood waiting at the entrance with several attendants, his smile eager. For once, he had changed into a nearly new brocade robe and carefully arranged his hair, presenting himself with unusual care.
When a distinguished, handsome man descended from the slowly approaching palanquin, Old Wang’s smile deepened. He hurried forward, bowing low: “I greet the King.”
At the man’s side, a timid girl of sixteen or seventeen in palace dress stepped down. Old Wang quickly added, “This old servant greets the Princess.”
The title made the girl blush, uneasy and shy. “I dare not…” she murmured.
“It is fine. Such a title suits you.” The man in brocade was none other than Yu Xiu, King of Dayu.
At first, he frowned at the old servant, displeased. But hearing him call the girl “Princess,” Yu Xiu’s expression softened; his lips curved faintly as he nodded. “It has been many years, and you have learned much of courtesy.”
Seeing the girl’s nervousness, his gaze turned tender. Stroking her delicate coiffure, he said gently, “Xian’er, you need not be so cautious. You grew up by my side—you are my daughter. To call you thus is only right.”
His words were soft, his tone full of affection, as if she were a precious jewel.
Witnessing this, the attendants behind Old Wang grew more reverent, bowing in turn: “We greet the Princess.”
“Oh, but… if Sister Xian’er were to hear, she would dislike it.” The girl blushed deeper, ashamed. “I know you cherish me, but I always feel guilty toward Sister Xian’er. After all, she does not live with us.” She twisted her slender fingers, overwhelmed with anxiety.
Yu Xiu, seeing her think of others while wronging herself, felt his heart ache. He soothed her: “That is her own misfortune, nothing to do with you. All these years you have lived under her shadow, accused of usurping…” He sighed with guilt. “It is you, my Xian’er, who has suffered.”
Her true name was Xianzhu, the child his second wife had brought into the palace when she married into Dayu. Because she was not his blood, lacking royal lineage, she had endured many slights—denied even the title of “Princess.” Even now, she trembled, fearing she wronged others.
Thinking of that “other,” Yu Xiu’s warmth faded, replaced by displeasure. “And where is that girl?” he asked Old Wang curtly.
“She dislikes going out,” Old Wang replied quickly, eager to please. “That she did not come to greet Your Majesty at the gate is indeed discourteous. Shall this old servant fetch her?”
“There’s no need to call her out.” The King of Dayu lowered his gaze. Seeing the girl at his side—his cherished jewel—looking up at him with innocent eyes, he bent toward her with a smile. “Xian’er, go wander the mausoleum for a while. I’ll be back shortly.”
The mausoleum held little worth exploring; it was merely an excuse to send her away.
Yet the girl obeyed meekly, whispering, “Father, it’s been so many years since we’ve seen Sister Xian’er. She must have suffered much. Even if she quarrels with you, please don’t be angry with her, all right?” Her eyes brimmed with pure kindness, thinking only of others. Behind her, a spirited young man showed faint displeasure, clearly indignant on her behalf.
Old Wang’s eyes darted between them, then quickly turned to Yu Xiu with a fawning smile. “Allow this old servant to lead Your Majesty to her.”
The brocaded man nodded in satisfaction, leaving attendants to accompany his beloved daughter while he himself made his way toward Yu Sangsang’s courtyard.
Yu Sangsang had already sensed it. Fourteen years had passed since this figure last came to the mausoleum, and now he headed straight for her—clearly not with good intentions. She carefully gauged the approaching auras: one at the Foundation Establishment stage, troublesome enough, and four at the Qi Refining stage. She grew wary, though outwardly she remained the picture of an ignorant mortal. Only when her courtyard door was pushed open did she turn, feigning bewilderment.
At the front walked a face not unfamiliar in memory—a handsome man unchanged by fourteen years, for cultivators’ lifespans were long, and such time could not alter one at his stage.
Though she recognized him, Yu Sangsang felt no interest in reunion.
And what then? Should she cry “Father!” and rush into his arms, lamenting their meeting after fourteen years of turmoil?
She stood quietly, merely noting the loose formation of his companions—no sign of encirclement. Her brows lifted slightly. She observed them, unaware that the King of Dayu was also studying her. Fourteen years had left him unchanged. But the child of yesterday had grown into a strikingly beautiful young woman. Too beautiful, he thought with displeasure. Her vivid, airy grace resembled not him, but her gentle, yielding mother. Such beauty dimmed his Xianzhu, casting her into shadow.
The thought darkened his eyes.
Her proud, spirited bearing was nearly identical to her mother’s—that noble wife who, even in silence, made him seem ordinary. She had been born to eminence; her clan had once saved Dayu from peril, a benefactor to the realm. To Dayu, his late wife was as radiant as a celestial maiden.
People whispered in secret: how could such a fairy descend to earth, only to marry him? In their eyes, he was forever diminished—no more than a mongrel at a goddess’s feet.