It was the third month of spring. Peach blossoms covered every branch. Above the capital, the sky was stained red, vivid as flames, so brilliant it seemed almost unreal. A steady breeze gathered beneath that fiery horizon, slipping endlessly through the lattice windows and wrapping itself around those inside.
Leaning weakly against the window, Xie Shuning gazed into the distance. The early spring wind made her shudder violently. Suddenly, a fit of coughing seized her. Though a finely woven silk handkerchief covered her mouth, it could not muffle the heart-rending sound of her coughs. Every cough seemed to drain away what little strength she had left.
“Mother! Mother!” The tightly shut door burst open. A small child dressed in a sapphire-blue patterned jacket stumbled into the room. His round, bright eyes wide open, he rushed forward awkwardly, arms outstretched, eager to throw himself into her embrace.
It was Zhen-ge’er.
Still coughing, Xie Shuning hurriedly motioned for someone to stop him. Her illness was severe. Fearing that her sickness might pass on to him, she had never allowed him to stay too close. At once, her senior maids, Yuebai and Lünong, stepped forward and blocked him from both sides.
“Mother, don’t you like Zhen’er anymore?” the little boy cried, his lips trembling. Tears glistened in his eyes as he struggled against the maids. “Why won’t you hold me anymore?”
Xie Shuning felt as though her heart were breaking. Yet the unbearable itch in her throat only worsened despite her constant coughing. Bent over from the force of it, tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, and she found herself unable to speak.
Through her coughing, she heard Yuebai say to the child in a voice choked with tears, “Heir, Madam is still ill. Please be good and listen.”
But Zhen-ge’er hadn’t seen his mother in a long time. How could he possibly heed her words?
“Zhen’er…” Xie Shuning struggled upright. Suppressing the irritation in her throat with great effort, she rasped, “Be good… When Mother’s illness… when it gets better…” Her voice trailed off.
Suddenly, she could not continue.
The four-year-old boy wore a miserable expression. After fighting back his tears for a long moment, he finally declared loudly, “All right! Zhen’er will be good. But Mother has to get better soon too! Mother must take her medicine properly. When you’re well again, you’ll take Zhen’er out to fly kites!”
Xie Shuning turned her head away. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably.
“Heir, shall this servant take you back?” Lünong asked softly, bending down.
Zhen-ge’er agreed. Led away by Lünong, he left the room, looking back every few steps.
Only after the small figure disappeared from sight did Xie Shuning finally unclench her teeth and burst into anguished sobs. Aside from her pitiful son, who in this household didn’t already know she had little time left to live?
She hated herself. Hated her own weakness with all her heart. If she hadn’t been so frail, how could a simple chill have deteriorated into this?
At this time, Yan Huai, Duke Cheng, stood at the height of his power, dominating the imperial court. The Xie family had offended him in the past. Now they could only struggle to survive, and in the eyes of others, they were little more than a dying house making its final, desperate resistance.
Afraid of being implicated by her, Lin Yuanzhi had personally fed her “medicine”—A bowl of medicine meant to take her life.
Yet Xie Shuning understood. Who in those times wasn’t afraid of Yan Huai?
After the late emperor’s death, Yan Huai had installed the Fifteenth Prince, then only seven years old, upon the throne. The era was renamed Chengxing, and the child became Emperor Jiaming.
Because the emperor was young and powerless, Yan Huai served as regent. Even now, Yan Huai was only twenty-five years old. But he was notorious for his ruthless methods and savage disposition. His temper was unpredictable, and everyone who encountered him feared and avoided him. When he was only thirteen, the previous Duke Cheng, Yan Jing, fell gravely ill. Yan Huai, then Heir to the title, returned to the capital from abroad. Three days later, his father died.
Yan Huai immediately placed his stepmother under house arrest and exiled his younger half-brother to the northern frontier.
When he was sixteen, his stepmother, Madam Wan, secretly brought her son back to the capital. Upon discovering this, Yan Huai tossed them a length of white silk and ordered the younger brother to hang Madam Wan with it. At seventeen, he executed his brother and was promoted to Commander of the Imperial Guard. The following year, he became Left Military Governor of the Central Military Commission, taking charge of the capital’s garrison troops. At twenty-two, he swallowed up both the Eastern and Western Depots with thunderous force. In just a few short years, everyone in the court trembled at the mere mention of Yan Huai’s name. Thus, although the empire still bore the surname Ji, it had long since become Yan Huai’s possession. Even within the imperial palace itself, he moved about as though no one could oppose him, observing no boundaries or restraints.
How could the Xie family possibly afford to offend such a man? The Lin family, reduced to a declining marquisate, had even less hope of resisting him. Especially now that the Lin household also had Concubine Wen.
Xie Shuning closed her eyes, unable to bear thinking any further. She knew that Lin Yuanzhi was merely making the choice that best ensured his survival. Had their positions been reversed, she would not have hesitated to strike at him either. But if she died, what would become of her Zhen-ge’er?
A metallic sweetness surged up her throat. Crimson stains blossomed across the spotless white handkerchief. Weakly, she let it fall aside and drifted into a heavy sleep with her eyes closed. She did not know how much time had passed before she suddenly jolted awake from a nightmare, drenched in cold sweat.
Clutching the brocade quilt covering her, she cried hoarsely, “Lünong! Where is the Heir?”
Lünong was adding incense powder to a gilt-cloisonné censer. Hearing the shout, she froze for a moment before replying hesitantly, “The Heir refused to return to his room. He took some attendants and went to the garden.”
The garden? Xie Shuning trembled uncontrollably. Forcing herself upright, she commanded sharply, “Go find him! Bring the Heir safely back to his room at once!”
The silver spoon in Lünong’s hand shook.
“Madam! Madam, something terrible has happened!”
Suddenly, the voice of Nanny Zhou, Zhen-ge’er’s wet nurse, rang out from outside.
Xie Shuning’s heart lurched. Recalling the dream she had just had, panic instantly overwhelmed her. “Bring her in!” she cried urgently. “What happened?”
With terror written across her face, Nanny Zhou rushed in, dropped to her knees with a thud, and repeatedly knocked her head against the floor.
“The Heir… he fell into the water…”
The frightened words struck her like a bolt of thunder.
Throwing aside the quilt, Xie Shuning struggled to her feet and staggered toward the door. Yuebai, equally devastated by the news, knew she couldn’t stop her now. Instead, she hurriedly fetched a thick cloak and draped it over her shoulders.
Lünong tried anxiously to block her path, but one icy glance from Xie Shuning made her release her grip guiltily.
Scrambling to her feet, Nanny Zhou followed behind, crying, “This servant deserves death, Madam…”
“Enough!” Xie Shuning’s body felt weak as cotton, and her legs barely supported her. She had no strength left to argue. Gritting her teeth, she barked the order until Nanny Zhou finally fell silent.
Along the way, more than half her weight rested against Yuebai. Supported by the maid, she moved forward with painful difficulty, silently praying that nothing had happened to Zhen-ge’er. But before they even reached his room, a chorus of wailing met her ears.
Her heart sank. Her face drained of all color as she shoved Yuebai aside and stumbled forward. Before she could enter, however, she collided headlong with a cold body.
“Zhen’er is gone.” The voice above her head was ice-cold. The hands gripping her shoulders were equally cold.
A heart-rending cry burst from Xie Shuning. She tried desperately to shove Lin Yuanzhi away, but he restrained her. Forced to listen, she heard him say bitterly, “Do you know that Xueluo fell into the water trying to save him? She lost the child because of it!”
Wen Xueluo had tried to save Zhen’er? What a ridiculous joke.
In the end, the fault was hers. She should never have believed Lin Yuanzhi truly loved her. She should never have regarded Wen Xueluo as a cherished friend.
Staring up at Lin Yuanzhi’s handsome, refined face, Xie Shuning began to laugh even as tears streamed down her cheeks. “A tigress may be cruel, but she doesn’t eat her own cubs. Marquis, you’ve truly taken a splendid concubine into your household.” As she spoke, her eyes turned cold.
Her bloodless lips parted slightly. “You’re terrified that the affairs of the Xie family will drag you down. Then why aren’t you afraid of being implicated by Wen Xueluo?”
When the Wen family was still at the height of its glory, Lin Yuanzhi’s concubine, Lady Wen, was only two years old when she was betrothed to Yan Huai, then the Heir to Duke Cheng.
With Yan Huai’s current temperament, even something he no longer wanted remained his to discard. No one else had the right to take it.
By taking Wen Xueluo, Lin Yuanzhi had already trodden upon the dragon’s tail.
For the first time in her life, Xie Shuning behaved like a shrew from the marketplace. She sank her teeth viciously into Lin Yuanzhi’s hand. As he cried out in pain and loosened his grip, she broke free and rushed into the room.
The chamber was silent.
There lay her Zhen’er. Small and frail, curled beneath the brocade quilt. He looked like one of the embroidered flowers stitched upon the blanket itself, so pale that all color had vanished from him.
“Zhen’er… Mother is here…” Her voice trembled.
“Talk to Mother, won’t you, Zhen’er?” She gazed at his pale, bluish face. At his long eyelashes, motionless as the wings of a dead butterfly.
Then, without warning, she vomited a mouthful of blood. Lin Yuanzhi rushed into the room and reached out to grab her. She fixed her lifeless eyes on him and asked expressionlessly, “If you wanted to kill me, so be it. But why wouldn’t you spare Zhen’er as well?”
“Have you lost your mind?” Lin Yuanzhi snapped. His grip tightened around her arm. “Zhen’er is my son too! Do you think I’m not heartbroken?”
Xie Shuning lowered her head weakly. Heartbroken? If he truly grieved, then why, now that Zhen’er had just died, was the only thing on his mind the child in Wen Xueluo’s womb? How cold-hearted did a man have to be to demand, at such a moment, whether she knew that Wen Xueluo had lost her baby?
Suddenly, a commotion arose outside. “Concubine Wen, you can’t go in!”
Before the words had fully faded, Wen Xueluo, pale-faced and supported by servants, had already entered the room. She dropped to her knees before Xie Shuning and burst into tears. “Madam, it’s all my fault. I couldn’t stop the Heir…”
“How can this be your fault? Get up, quickly.”
Remembering that she had only just lost her child, Lin Yuanzhi hurried forward to help her.
But Wen Xueluo stubbornly remained kneeling. Tears streamed down her delicate face like pear blossoms in the rain, enough to melt anyone’s heart. Gradually, a dark red stain spread across the violet skirt pooled beneath her.
The sight filled Lin Yuanzhi with distress. He turned toward Xie Shuning and glared furiously.
“How long do you intend to make her kneel?”
Xie Shuning acted as though she had heard nothing. Resting her forehead against Zhen’er’s icy-cold brow, she continued murmuring his name.
“Xie Shuning, don’t push things too far!” Lin Yuanzhi shouted angrily. “I know you’re suffering because something happened to Zhen’er, but Xueluo has just lost her child as well. Why must you treat her like this?”
Weeping bitterly, Wen Xueluo crawled forward on her knees until she reached Xie Shuning’s feet. Her slender hand clutched the hem of Xie Shuning’s skirt.
“Madam, kill me… It’s all my fault… all my fault…” Her voice was weak and pitiful. Yet hidden from everyone else’s sight, the hand gripping Xie Shuning’s skirt tightened sharply. Her long, delicate fingernails dug viciously into Xie Shuning’s flesh. “Madam…”
“Someone! Quickly, take Concubine Wen away!” Deeply frowning, Lin Yuanzhi spun around and shouted toward the doorway.
In that fleeting instant, Wen Xueluo suddenly raised her tear-streaked face. Her gaze locked onto Xie Shuning like a venomous serpent. Parting her crimson lips, she whispered in a voice so low that only Xie Shuning could hear: “I already knew the child in my womb wouldn’t survive. Exchanging its life for your son’s was more than worth it.”
Xie Shuning felt as though struck by lightning. Another mouthful of blood burst from her lips, splattering across Wen Xueluo’s robes. “Is that so?”
Blood stained the corners of Xie Shuning’s mouth as a bleak smile spread across her face. Then her eyes turned sharp with deadly resolve. “In that case, how about using your life to repay my son’s?”
Her frail body exploded with startling strength. With one swift motion, she tore a hairpin from her hair and drove it viciously into Wen Xueluo’s throat.
Pshht! Hot blood sprayed across her face.
Hearing the sound, Lin Yuanzhi whirled around. His eyes nearly split with rage. Striding forward, he shoved Xie Shuning to the ground, then gathered Wen Xueluo into his arms and called her name frantically.
Xie Shuning lay upon the icy ground. A silent smile crossed her lips. Curling tightly into herself, she sobbed softly. “Zhen’er, wait for Mother, Zhen’er…”
…
Spring, Second Year of the Jiaming Emperor of Western Yue.
Lin Zhen, son of the Marquis of Changping, died.
Madam Xie, his wife, died as well.