Life in the palace suited Qiu Xinran quite well. Emperor Xuande had granted her the title of Astrologer, yet gave her no real duties. After arriving at Wanhe Palace, aside from organizing texts at the Bureau of Astronomy for Bai Jingming, her days were mostly spent making herself familiar in the various consorts’ residences.
She was young, sweet-tongued, had no conflicts of interest, and knew divination—so she quickly became well-liked. Given a few more years, she might truly become one of those favored mystics at the emperor’s side.
Though she had gained some fame, she refused private, high-paying requests from nobles, wary of being accused of forming improper connections. Only in the emperor’s presence would she occasionally read fortunes. However, for the palace maids and eunuchs, she charged little—just snacks or a few coins—and accepted all requests.
It was said the emperor found this charming rather than improper, thinking her still childlike and sincere.
Of course, if Xia Xiuyan heard that, he would surely scoff.
That day, Qiu Xinran was lounging in the garden when a young eunuch from the gardening quarters, Shu’er, approached her gloomily, holding a dead potted plant.
“Astrologer Qiu, could you do a reading for me? When will my luck improve?”
“What happened?” she asked, sitting up.
Shu’er sat cross-legged before her and sighed. “A plant in Young Master Xia’s room died. If my master finds out, he’ll blame me.”
Each noble’s plants were carefully tended. Shu’er was responsible for Xia Xiuyan’s. Letting one die would surely be seen as negligence.
“It doesn’t seem like a big deal,” Qiu Xinran said, taking the plant. It was a lucky bamboo, its leaves now yellow and drooping. She touched them thoughtfully. “Did he pour his medicine into it?”
Shu’er froze. “Hard to say…”
Xia Xiuyan was always surrounded by the smell of medicine. If he dumped leftover medicine into the pot, it wasn’t impossible.
Qiu Xinran sniffed the soil—it did smell medicinal, but something felt off. “What illness does he actually have?”
“Something from birth,” Shu’er said. “No one knows exactly.”
After brushing off her hands, she offered a plan. “Don’t report it yet. Trim the dead leaves and return it tomorrow. Say watering might revive it—and ask if he wants a new one.”
Shu’er looked miserable. “It’s already dead. Won’t it be discovered soon anyway?”
She smiled mysteriously. “If you return it now, you’ll definitely be punished. Try my way—you might escape.”
Two days later, Shu’er returned in disbelief.
“Astrologer Qiu, I believe you’re some kind of immortal!”
“What happened?”
“I did as you said. He kept the plant. I was terrified—but today it was gone. His servant said he accidentally knocked over the pot this morning, and everything was thrown away.”
Shu’er was overjoyed—since Xia Xiuyan himself had “broken” it, no blame would fall on him.
Qiu Xinran smiled but grew thoughtful after he left.
Among the Nine Schools, she had studied some medicine. From the soil, she recognized one ingredient—Luoshuang, a mildly toxic herb used to counteract poison.
If Xia Xiuyan wasn’t poisoned, why would it be there?
And if he understood her hint, deliberately breaking the pot meant—
He knew someone had tampered with his medicine.
She couldn’t figure it out. The more she thought about it, the stranger he seemed.
In the following days, she saw Xia Xiuyan from afar. He appeared normal, with no signs of poisoning. His plants were fine afterward.
But Shu’er came again, complaining nervously that he felt watched, as if someone were observing him from the shadows.
Qiu Xinran felt a pang of guilt—perhaps she had caused trouble for him. She warned him to be careful and not go anywhere alone. Shu’er agreed cheerfully, unaware of her concern.
A few days later, foreign envoys arrived, and the emperor hosted a banquet at the palace.
That day, Qiu Xinran felt uneasy, her eyelids twitching—a bad omen. By evening, the garden was brightly lit, yet Xia Xiuyan was absent.
After asking around, she learned he had excused himself due to illness.
Her unease deepened.
She slipped away and went to find Shu’er—but encountered another eunuch instead.
“He went out this morning to tend plants and hasn’t returned,” the eunuch said worriedly. “His master is looking for him too.”
Qiu Xinran’s heart sank.
She ran toward Xia Xiuyan’s residence.
He lived in a remote palace, quiet and sparsely staffed.
When she arrived, it was eerily silent. Only a faint candlelight flickered upstairs. She noticed no guards—something unusual, but in her urgency, she didn’t think twice.
Then—
A crash.
Something shattered upstairs, followed by a heavy thud.
Her heart clenched. She rushed up.
From inside, she heard Xia Xiuyan’s cold voice: “Go after him. I’ll handle things here.”
A shadow leapt out through the window and vanished into the night.
Qiu Xinran froze—then forced herself to knock.
“Young Master Xia… are you asleep?”
Silence.
Then: “What is it?”
“The emperor summons you to the banquet.”
“I’m unwell. Tell him I’ve retired.”
She took a deep breath. “It may be urgent.”
Then she pushed the door open.
Inside—
A eunuch lay face-down on the floor, motionless, surrounded by shattered porcelain.
Xia Xiuyan’s expression darkened. Killing intent flickered in his eyes.
“Why are you here?”
Qiu Xinran stared, horrified. “You… killed him?”
“Was he acting on your orders?” he snapped, grabbing her throat before she could retreat. “Who are you?”
His grip tightened. She couldn’t breathe.
He studied her panic—and suddenly smiled coldly.
“You didn’t think I’d kill you too?”
She knew then—he truly meant it.
At that moment—
The “corpse” behind him stirred.
The man slowly stood up, confused.
Qiu Xinran’s heart dropped.
That wasn’t Shu’er.
He was far larger than any ordinary eunuch.
She tried to warn Xia Xiuyan, pointing weakly—but couldn’t speak.
He hesitated, sensing something wrong—
Too late.
A sharp strike knocked him unconscious.
Air rushed back into her lungs as she collapsed, coughing violently.
Through blurred vision, she saw the man approaching—
Then pain struck her neck.
Darkness swallowed everything.