A long peal of thunder slashed across the sky, striking the lonely palace walls with a muffled boom before rolling away into the distance.
The night rain was falling hard. Palace lanterns hung beneath the eaves, their glow blurred by mist and drizzle, casting shadows that shifted like ghosts.
Empress Tang silently drew a breath, lifted the bed curtains, and took the lamp from Nanny Song’s hands. Bending down, she examined the figure curled beneath the blankets.
The person lay unconscious and unmoving. Long, disheveled hair spilled across the pillow, spreading like dark weeds and obscuring the face.
Empress Tang brushed the troublesome strands aside and brought the candle closer. At last, amid the flickering light, she could clearly make out those brows and eyes.
Empress Tang let out a slow breath. The heart she had kept suspended for more than ten days could finally settle, if only for a moment, beneath the roar of the rain.
Nanny Song’s eyes shone with relief as she whispered, “Your Majesty, look. Aren’t they almost identical? You may rest assured. Once she wakes, this old servant will personally train her deportment and manner of speech. No one will notice anything amiss…”
Instead of sharing her relief, Empress Tang cast a cold glance at the figure in the bed. “No one will notice? Even if she resembles the Crown Prince, she’s still a mere girl! She’s never seen the world. How could she possibly avoid exposing herself? You and I have watched the Crown Prince for over ten years. In the end, he’s just the lowborn offspring of actors, hopeless beyond redemption. Can we really expect this unsophisticated nobody to turn the tide? My fate has truly been cruel. If my own child had survived, would I have been reduced to such a desperate situation today?”
As she spoke, tears slipped down the face of the woman already touched by the dusk of age. Beside her, Nanny Song’s eyes also filled with tears.
Everyone in the Feng Dynasty knew that Empress Tang had suffered a difficult labor. Delivering the Crown Prince had damaged her health, and for years afterward she could not bear another child for the imperial family. Because of this, she had raised Prince Feng Qiyuan with strict discipline and placed all her hopes upon him.
Yet no one knew the truth. During that difficult delivery, the infant prince had been strangled by the umbilical cord. He was born without a breath of life. The situation had been perilous, and the imperial physicians declared that the Empress would likely never conceive again.
At the time, Empress Tang was locked in a fierce power struggle with Consort Shang. The contest had reached a critical point. How could news of such a devastating defeat be allowed to spread?
Fortunately, she was giving birth at a detached imperial palace. Nearby, a troupe residence housed a famous pair of opera performers. The wife had also recently given birth, delivering boy-and-girl twins.
Left with no choice, the Empress made a desperate gamble. Under the pretense of bestowing rewards, she ordered Nanny Song to lure the couple and their infant twins into the palace to receive imperial favor.
Thus, the baby boy was wrapped in luxurious silk swaddling clothes and, in the blink of an eye, became the Fourth Imperial Prince of the reigning Emperor: Feng Qiyuan.
The actor couple, the baby girl, and every palace maid and eunuch involved in carrying messages were secretly executed by the Empress and dumped into a remote wilderness canal.
What should have been a secret forever buried beneath the river’s waters refused to stay buried. It seemed Heaven itself despised the Empress’s sin, for endless retribution followed.
The child she had exchanged for proved utterly disappointing. His literary studies were awkward and mediocre, painful to behold. His archery and horsemanship were no better, neglected and unimpressive. Fortunately, he was Empress Tang’s only child in name. Her natal clan was a powerful noble house upon which the Emperor relied heavily. Therefore, despite Feng Qiyuan’s shortcomings, he was invested as Crown Prince at the age of twelve, in accordance with the traditions of the Feng Dynasty.
Even with every advantage lavished upon him, the Crown Prince remained little more than a hopeless failure. Perhaps because of the environment in which he was born and raised, he developed an unusual passion early on. Of all pursuits, he adored the opera stage. He was obsessed with it. Merely watching performances was not enough. He often let down his long hair, powdered his face, and secretly joined the eunuchs and palace maids, warbling tunes in a high voice while swaying his waist and performing on their makeshift stage.
As it happened, the reigning Emperor, Emperor Chunde, caught him in the act.
Furious that the Crown Prince had proven such a disappointment, the Emperor personally took up the whip and nearly beat the “effeminate creature” to death.
To make matters worse, someone seized the opportunity to fan the flames. The Emperor learned that the Crown Prince had once, while drunk, harassed the sons of noble families visiting the palace, behavior so sordid that it was unfit even to repeat.
The Emperor’s favor gradually turned cold. After having the Crown Prince caned in the palace, he confined him to Yiyuan, a residence adjacent to the Cold Palace, for four years. Officially, it was to allow him to cultivate his character and moral conduct.
For those four years, no one paid him any attention. Recently, however, debate over deposing the Crown Prince had grown increasingly fierce at court. Both inside and outside the palace, people speculated that the Emperor intended to name Consort Shang’s son, the Second Prince Feng Qiting, as the new heir apparent.
Even the Empress had given up hope in this discarded piece on the board. She had recently adopted the eight-year-old Sixth Prince from the late Lady Shen, who had died of illness, planning to build her position anew through him.
Then, unexpectedly, the Emperor received a memorial from Grand Secretary Teng. The elderly statesman earnestly advised him that a crown prince should not be deposed over minor failings, nor should the throne be left in uncertainty without either retaining or replacing the heir. Such indecision, he argued, neglected the Emperor’s duties as both father and sovereign.
Many veteran ministers still supported the Crown Prince. Unwilling to disregard his officials’ sentiments, the Emperor finally lifted the ban when Feng Qiyuan turned seventeen and even permitted him to attend the Emperor’s birthday banquet.
For the Empress’s faction, this should have been welcome news. Yet when the newly hopeful Empress personally went to retrieve Feng Qiyuan from confinement, she discovered that the once exquisitely nurtured little prince had suffered abuse at the hands of his attendants a month earlier and had injured his right leg.
Those palace servants had grown bold. Believing the Crown Prince’s downfall was inevitable and that he would never rise again, they had concealed the injury and failed to report it.
The Empress flew into a rage. She immediately executed everyone serving at Yiyuan and sealed off all news of the incident. But the leg had gone untreated for too long and was left permanently damaged. Feng Qiyuan now limped when he walked, entirely lacking the bearing expected of royalty.
The Empress knew that if he appeared before the public in such a state, anyone with malicious intent could spread the word that the Crown Prince had become crippled. Once that happened, he would lose all claim to the throne. Even loyal old ministers like Grand Secretary Teng could no longer defend him.
At that point, the game should have been completely lost.
Yet Heaven, at last, seemed to take pity on her and offered a sliver of hope. While secretly traveling beyond the palace to seek renowned physicians for the Crown Prince’s leg, her trusted attendant, Nanny Song, happened upon a street-performing father and daughter in Yicheng, a city not far from the capital.
Though age and hardship had left their marks upon him, Nanny Song immediately recognized the old man. He was the opera performer who had supposedly been executed years ago, the biological father of the exchanged twins. His name, she recalled, seemed to be Lou Guan’er.
Even more astonishing was the young girl at his side. Dressed in a boy’s short jacket, her hair hanging loose as she beat a gong and shouted to attract customers, she had brows and eyes identical to the Crown Prince’s.
Shocked, Nanny Song secretly had the pair seized. After interrogating them, she finally learned the truth.
The opera performer, Lou Guan’er, had been born with his heart positioned unusually to one side. When he was stabbed years ago, the blade had missed his vital organs. Though wounded, he survived after being thrown into the wilderness canal.
The men tasked with disposing of the infant girl had not entirely lost their humanity. Unwilling to kill a swaddled baby with their own hands, they had merely cast her into the river, intending for her to drown.
Lou Guan’er had feigned death, hiding beneath the water. Under cover of night, enduring unbearable pain, he fought his way through the current and rescued his daughter. From that day onward, he assumed the name Yan Shan. Father and daughter concealed their identities and survived by relying solely on each other.
Unfortunately for them, Nanny Song discovered them in Yicheng. Using a trusted younger member of the Tang clan, she arranged for an official intervention. Under the pretext of hunting down escaped slaves, they enlisted Commander Zhu, the city’s garrison chief. The father and daughter were arrested, thrown into Yicheng’s prison, and held in secret while awaiting the Empress’s judgment.
The Empress issued her orders: the girl was to be brought to the palace in secret, while the old actor was to be disposed of on the spot.
But before the carrier pigeon’s message could arrive, disorder broke out in Yicheng Prison. Someone staged a jailbreak to free a high-profile prisoner being held there.
The father and daughter took advantage of the chaos and attempted to escape as well. The girl, however, was slower on her feet. While covering her father’s retreat, she was captured again. Thus, she was drugged into unconsciousness, hidden inside a grain cart bound for the palace, and brought before the Empress for inspection.
Now that she had seen the girl with her own eyes, Empress Tang had to admit that Nanny Song was right. The two children were truly twins, born of the same mother. Their appearances were nearly identical.
Feng Qiyuan had always possessed delicate, somewhat feminine features. If this young girl were dressed as a boy, she and Feng Qiyuan would be almost impossible to distinguish. She could easily deceive a casual observer.
The Empress intended to use the girl as a stand-in for the Crown Prince, having her impersonate him during the upcoming birthday celebrations and conceal the fact that his leg had not yet healed.
After observing her for a while, Empress Tang suddenly let out a long sigh.
Mistaking the sigh for anxiety over the secret being exposed, Nanny Song helped the Empress settle onto a chaise lounge and softly reassured her. “Your Majesty, Lou Guan’er is only a commoner. This old servant has already dispatched men to track him down in secret. He will not amount to anything. As for this young girl, she has already been frightened into obedience.”
“And regarding the Crown Prince’s leg, the physician we found among the people said that if the bone is broken and reset properly, he should recover completely within a year. We need only conceal the truth for half a year. By then, the Crown Prince will be able to appear before the public openly and honorably. Your Majesty need not worry.”
The Empress responded with a cold laugh.
Even if the Crown Prince were not lame, the Emperor no longer favored him. His talents were mediocre; he simply lacked the makings of a great ruler.
After years as husband and wife, she understood the Emperor’s thinking. This sudden act of mercy was merely a concession intended to placate the old ministers. By releasing the Crown Prince, the Emperor could demonstrate his benevolence and his affection for his children.
Feng Qiyuan was confined because of moral misconduct. It was a family scandal, something that could not be publicly proclaimed in official documents. Without a proper explanation, it had been difficult to silence the veteran officials, and any rash action would have stirred up a struggle for succession.
Perhaps the Emperor was merely waiting for the Second Prince to fully mature and establish his power before finding a more convincing reason to depose the Crown Prince.
Feng Qiyuan, the Crown Prince, was ultimately a discarded piece on the board. Reversing his fate would be nearly impossible.
If that was the case, then this piece should be used to its fullest value.
Rather than letting the Emperor remove him, why not give him one final purpose: to destroy Consort Shang and her son?
The Emperor admired martial prowess. During the birthday banquet, the imperial princes would put on displays of horsemanship and archery, each hoping to earn a smile from their father.
Just imagine it: The seemingly healthy Crown Prince falls from a startled horse during the exhibition. Later, evidence emerges showing that the horse had been drugged, with all suspicion pointing directly at the Second Prince. What a magnificent spectacle that would be!
Accused of attempting to murder the Crown Prince, the Second Prince would never recover politically. No matter how eloquent or cunning Consort Shang might be, Feng Qiting would lose the court officials’ support and never rise to prominence again.
As for the Crown Prince’s crippled leg, that misfortune could be turned to advantage as well. It would win the Empress a measure of the Emperor’s guilt and sympathy. With the backing of her powerful natal clan, her newly adopted Sixth Prince, A Ruo, could then ascend smoothly and, in time, become the new heir apparent.
As for the deposed Crown Prince, it would be best if he remained lame for a long, long time. Only then would the Emperor feel indebted to her, and only then would it become a stain of guilt that the Second Prince could never wash away.
After hearing this brief outline of the Empress’s plan, Nanny Song was suddenly enlightened. At last she understood the painstaking effort behind it all.
What a brilliant scheme. One stone, two birds. Heaven itself seemed to be helping Her Majesty.
Empress Tang rose and returned to the bedside, looking once more at the sleeping girl beneath the covers.
Like her twin brother, the girl was already seventeen years old. Perhaps because she had struggled to make a living among commoners, though her features were as refined and handsome as Feng Qiyuan’s, she carried a natural air of vigor and heroism.
The Empress felt even more reassured.
Feng Qiyuan had always seemed overly feminine. Finding a sufficiently delicate young man to impersonate him would have been difficult. His own twin sister, however, was perfectly suited to the role.
According to Nanny Song, the servants had administered a somewhat excessive dose of the sedative. The girl had been sleeping for an unusually long time without waking.
Empress Tang reached out and patted her cheek. She was not worried about the girl refusing to cooperate. With the girl entirely in her grasp, all she needed to do was threaten her with the fate of the actor now known as Yan Shan. Tell her that he had been captured, and the girl would surely become obedient. Still, if she slept too long and delayed matters, it would cause trouble for the birthday banquet five days away.
After instructing Nanny Song to have someone prepare a medicinal tonic to wake the girl, the Empress hurriedly departed from the side hall.
Lady Shen had only recently died. The Sixth Prince, Feng Qiruo, had lost his mother at a young age and needed the comfort of his newly adopted mother, the Empress.
The Empress had no intention of raising another useless piece on the board. After giving her instructions here, she planned to supervise the Sixth Prince’s studies personally.
Nanny Song eagerly accompanied the Empress out. Neither woman noticed that, after they left, the supposedly unconscious figure behind the curtains slowly opened her eyes.
Those clear eyes, bright as still water, held none of the muddled haze of someone newly awakened. Instead, they were perfectly lucid.
The young girl sat up, flexed her fingers, rolled her wrists, and surveyed her surroundings. Then she curled her lips in a cold smile. Her adoptive father had once told her that the nobles of the capital loved refinement and spent their leisure time playing strategy games. The words of these aristocrats, overheard while she feigned sleep, proved him entirely correct.
What those self-proclaimed nobles likely did not understand, however, was this: When human lives are used as chess pieces, even pieces as lowly as wood, stone, or insects bring endless possibilities once they enter the game.
In the blink of an eye, two days passed.
Although Nanny Song handled matters steadily and trained the girl every day, Empress Tang remained uneasy.
Having the girl disguise herself as a young man and merely appear in public was not particularly difficult. Nor would it be hard for her to pretend to fall from a horse.
When the time came, chaos would erupt. The “Crown Prince” would be rushed away for treatment, and the real Crown Prince with the injured leg could quietly take his place.
Every detail had been arranged. But if, before that moment, the girl accidentally revealed her true sex, the consequences would be disastrous.
With such concerns weighing on her mind, the day before the imperial banquet, Empress Tang decided she had to inspect the common-born girl herself to ensure she had mastered the necessary etiquette and could pass convincingly as a man.
Before even reaching the side hall, while passing through a moon gate, she heard a woman’s soft, coquettish voice from within: “Your Highness, I’ve waited so long for this day. Yet you’ve forgotten how devotedly I served you before. All you do is ask irrelevant questions, without once asking how I’ve managed these past years.”
The Empress frowned. Shaking off Nanny Song’s supporting hand, she quickened her pace. She wanted to see who dared engage in flirtation and romantic intrigue within the heavily guarded Eastern Palace.
As she rounded the corner, she saw Yushu.
The maid had once served in the Eastern Palace but later transferred to Consort Shang’s Western Palace. At the moment, she stood leaning shyly against a pillar, cheeks flushed red. Opposite her stood a strikingly handsome youth dressed in white robes, a jade crown securing his half-loosened hair. One hand rested casually against the pillar while the other lazily spun a folding fan. Using the tip of the fan, he tilted Yushu’s chin upward.
The youth lowered his narrow phoenix eyes and raised a dark brow, a roguish smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Oh?” he drawled. “I had no idea that during these four lonely years of confinement, there was such a lovely little mandarin duck waiting faithfully for me. What was your name again…? Yushu?”
His smile deepened. “Truly worthy of your name. As lovely as polished jade. One look makes a person unwilling to set you down. Makes one want to turn another page, and then another.”
Such shameless words, delivered in the youth’s slightly husky voice, landed like golden strings plucked beside the ear, as though invisible fingertips were teasing the heart itself.
The maid Yushu seemed utterly captivated. The blush on her cheeks deepened. Drawn into the smiling gaze of those phoenix eyes, she looked as though she were being carefully read and savored page by page. She stood there dumbfounded, unable to utter a single word.