Yu Xiu was filled with gloom. The matter of the family estate had long been left as it was; he was in no rush to settle it. That could be searched out slowly. What pressed more urgently on his mind was the issue of Xianzhu.
Old Wang’s proposal was excellent—Yu Xiu was very satisfied, even eager to put it into practice.
Indeed, the Dragon Jade had already fractured; it would not last much longer before breaking completely. Rather than letting it fail and go to waste, why not make decisive use of it—turn it into something truly valuable?
“Fortunately, Xian’er has come as well. Best to settle this matter today, lest delay bring unforeseen troubles.”
Seeing from afar the palace‑robed girl running joyfully toward him with flowers in her arms, his heart lit up as though his beloved daughter had illuminated his very eyes. A smile touched his handsome face.
Turning to the old servant who bowed and saluted the girl once more, Yu Xiu said warmly: “As long as you carry out this task well for me, I shall summon you back to the palace to serve at my side in days to come.”
He lifted his chin slightly, revealing a trace of pride in his mastery over all things. At that, Yu Xiu saw Old Wang nearly moved to tears of joy.
“Many thanks, Your Majesty!”
Since he had given his word, the old man hurried off toward the imperial tombs to busy himself.
The young girl had already run up to Yu Xiu, holding out the flowers in her hands. “Father, look how beautifully these blossoms are blooming here.” Her innocent delight was infectious, enough to lift anyone’s spirits.
Yu Xiu accepted the flowers with a nod, then turned to the sword‑bearing youth behind her and asked, “No one in the tombs has dared offend Princess Xian… has they?”
That single word *Princess* brought a flush of crimson to Xianzhu’s cheeks. Since it was an elder who addressed her so, she did not protest.
“No,” replied the youth, whose face carried a trace of defiance. Yet seeing her shy as a flower, his tone softened. Resting his hand on his sword, he added, “Even if someone tried, my blade would never permit it.” His fervent gaze lingered on the girl’s back.
Such loyal protection pleased Yu Xiu. But he had weightier matters at hand. Turning gently to Xianzhu, he said, “If you love these flowers, then one day Father will plant a whole garden for you. But for now, we have more pressing business.” He explained Old Wang’s clever plan to his beloved child. Hearing it, Xianzhu faltered, unease flickering in her eyes. “Will Sister Xian’er be angry with me? Will she scold me? Will she accuse you of favoritism?”
After all, this was a matter of seizing another’s identity, stealing away her great destiny. She could not help but ask.
“Only thus can you stand secure within Taisu Sect,” Yu Xiu said softly. “Otherwise, if one day a great cultivator of the sect idly consults the heavens and finds the fate does not match… then everything would collapse for you.”
“Besides, though cultivation is fine, her talent is ordinary. Better she live out her days as a common person at home.” He spoke tenderly to the girl twisting her fingers in hesitation. “Father owes you much. For so many years, you have suffered countless slights for the sake of a title.”
Seeing her eyes redden, he raised his hand to stroke her hair. “Father wishes to give you the very best. As for others… my child, what harm is there in being selfish just this once?”
To enter the inner gate of Taisu Sect was to set foot upon the path of immortality. Such a future could not be won with softhearted scruples.
Otherwise, with Dayu’s meager standing—even Yu Xiu himself, at the Foundation stage—would scarcely be deemed fit to sweep Taisu’s courtyards.
“Yes, Princess!” the young guard quickly urged as well. “She has already taken so much from you—your name, your place! Now you claim only a small chance of fortune. What of it? If you succeed, you will become the true princess of the sovereign, standing openly at his side, no longer mocked by others.”
Those words made Xianzhu’s delicate frame tremble. Guilt welled in her eyes; she dared not even glance toward Yu Sangsang’s courtyard. Covering her face, she choked out, “I’ll be greedy just this once. I’ll obey Father in everything—I’ll obey Father!”
She was only taking a little. Yu Xian’er had everything—how could she possibly understand the bitterness of these years, nameless and titleless, treated as nothing more than a burden?
Xianzhu wept in grievance. Yu Xiu hurried to soothe her. Only when she broke into a smile through her tears did they proceed together toward the central ancestral temple of the imperial tombs, where the memorial tablets of all Dayu’s royal line were enshrined.
Old Wang stood outside the temple. Seeing the sovereign and his daughter arrive side by side, he exhaled in relief and said with a fawning smile, “Your Majesty, everything is prepared.”
Within the temple, three enormous incense candles already burned. Their flames flickered, smoke curling thickly through the hall. Before the countless high‑placed tablets rested a dragon‑shaped white jade bi.
A deep crack ran through the jade, as though it might split in two. Yet even on the verge of ruin, it still shone brilliantly, spiritual light shimmering around it.
“May the Princess kneel here and proclaim before the ancestors,” intoned the aged voice. The girl looked uneasily to her father; seeing him nod, she blushed and knelt upon the sole cushion before the memorial tablets.
The moment her knees touched the mat, the candles flared brighter, and the entire temple trembled faintly.
The tremor was so subtle that none of the others noticed.
But Yu Sangsang—brooding over where she might go once she left Dayu after her wretched father’s departure—suddenly felt as though struck at the back of her head. Her whole body reeled. Her very soul seemed to drift, and in her daze, she found herself standing within a vast hall filled with towering ancestral tablets. Candles flickered in the hall. A tender, lovely girl knelt before the tablets.
Yu Xiu stood beside her, along with a sword‑bearing youth, while an old man stood solemnly beneath the memorials.
Yu Sangsang looked twice at the elder, then stared harder—wasn’t that Old Wang?
Heaven knew, she was used to seeing him grumble and sigh like a talent gone to waste. To behold him now, so stern and dignified, was almost unrecognizable. Yet the whole scene left Yu Sangsang deeply perplexed.
Though the girl was unfamiliar, Yu Sangsang had read that sweet‑pet romance story so thoroughly that, seeing Yu Xiu’s loving gaze upon her, she instantly knew this must be the fortunate darling of the tale—Xianzhu.
She hovered high among the ancestral tablets in the great hall, watching Xianzhu kneel as though the girl were bowing to her as well. The tablets all looked familiar.
For fourteen years, Yu Xian’er had often come here to clean and polish them. Because these ancestors were well known to her, Yu Sangsang felt no fear—only puzzlement. Why should Xianzhu’s kowtow cause her own soul to drift here?
“The sovereign’s blood is offered to the ancestors, proclaimed to heaven and earth, acknowledging this girl as your beloved daughter, Yu Xian’er.”
None of those present noticed the wandering spirit.
But Yu Sangsang, hearing her own name invoked, frowned slightly. She realized she knew this part of the story… To make Xianzhu seem more “real,” they had performed a ritual to veil the heavenly fate before Taisu Sect came to collect disciples.
The trick was effective. Though Xianzhu lived in constant unease, Taisu Sect kept her for years without ever discovering the truth. And when the true Yu Xian’er finally appeared, the sect had already grown deeply attached to the substitute, no longer caring about the deception.
Yu Sangsang sighed. So beneath the smooth, pleasing tale she had once enjoyed, the reality was rather vile. If one wished to enter a great sect, could it not be done through one’s own effort? Why steal another’s destiny—another’s very life?
She lowered her eyes, quietly committing each person in the hall to memory. While her strength was lacking, she would bide her time.
Slowly, patiently. After all, these cultivators had lives long enough to remain on her list. She watched in silence as Yu Xiu, without hesitation, drew forth his hand. A streak of blood flashed, and he cast it upon the dragon‑shaped jade bi, its cracked surface gleaming with spiritual light.
A streak of light flashed across the jade bi; the blood quickly vanished into its surface. In the unseen depths, Yu Sangsang heard a muffled dragon’s roar echoing from within.
Seeing the blood absorbed, Old Wang nodded slightly, then turned to the kneeling girl and said in a solemn voice, “Now let the Princess’s blood be offered to the ancestors—to your… birth mother, Jing Zhonghua.”
At his words, under the expectant gazes of all, the girl bit her lip, cut her pale wrist, and forced out two streams of blood. One fell upon the jade bi, the other upon the foremost memorial tablet. On that tablet were inscribed the three characters: *Jing Zhonghua*.
Both streams of blood slowly merged into their destined places. Old Wang’s expression grew grave as he asked, “And who are you?”
“I am… Yu Xian’er,” the girl said softly.
“Which Yu Xian’er?”
“I am Yu Xian’er, daughter of Dayu’s sovereign Yu Xiu and Jing Zhonghua.” Having come this far, though her face was streaked with tears, she raised her voice: “I am Jing Zhonghua’s only bloodline!”
With those words, she pressed her forehead to the ground and cried, “I pay respects to Mother—please show me mercy!” Her plea fell, and a dragon’s roar resounded.
Light shimmered across the jade bi, and a dragon’s form suddenly emerged. It was thin, fragile, on the verge of dispersal—yet its eyes, deep and vertical, still gleamed. Those eyes fell upon the kneeling girl, and seemed, almost by accident, to lift toward Yu Sangsang’s direction among the ancestral tablets. Perhaps it was only an illusion. The dragon soul roared, unleashing all its remaining brilliance. Its essence solidified for an instant, then swallowed the jade bi and the blood within. In the next moment, the soul collapsed.
A sharp crack rang out. The treasure enshrined since Dayu’s founding dulled, turned to dead stone, and swiftly crumbled into dust.
None of the onlookers spared grief for it; their eyes were fixed anxiously upon Jing Zhonghua’s memorial tablet.
The tablet remained silent, unmoving. And precisely because it was silent, Yu Xiu exhaled in relief.
Heaven’s mandate is inexorable, cause and effect entwined. For Xianzhu to defy fate in this way carried vast consequences. Had destiny truly forbidden it, Jing Zhonghua’s displaced child‑bond would have stirred. But now, with no disturbance, it was clear—the Dragon Jade had worked.
“This is enough?” Yu Xiu asked, staring at the vanished jade in shock.
“It is enough. From this day forward, Yu Xian’er is you, and you are Yu Xian’er,” Old Wang replied, then gently addressed the uneasy girl lifting her head. “It was your own will to claim all that belonged to Yu Xian’er. In today’s rite, had you felt even the slightest unwillingness, the fate could not have been exchanged.” His words laid the truth bare, enough to shame. Yet the girl could not refute them.
For indeed, it was so. Had she hesitated or resisted becoming Yu Xian’er, unwilling to seize another’s destiny, the rite would never have gone so smoothly. At that very moment, the incense candles were burning down to their ends.
Yu Sangsang sat among the ancestral tablets, dazed, her soul flickering as though ready to return to her own body. Just as her spirit began to drift upward, she felt a breath gather behind her—like a gentle embrace, like unseen hands urging her forward.
A voice—no, not one voice, but countless voices woven together into a single blurred murmur—whispered softly at her ear: “Go… go now… live well…”