Inside the bedchamber.
Qiao Shuyi sat upright before the dressing mirror, allowing her maid Qing Yan to remove her hairpins and ornaments.
The reflection in the mirror was hazy, with cascading black hair flowing down like a waterfall, making her face appear even smaller, paler, and more ethereal, like an immortal untouched by worldly affairs.
Zong Zhengheng stood behind the screen.
His gaze swept over the eight-foot-square moon-gate canopy bed—
The bed was covered with embroidered quilts, mandarin duck pillows placed side by side, with red curtains and golden hooks, exuding an atmosphere of intimacy and tenderness everywhere.
Could it be that tonight he would share the same bed with her?
Zong Zhengheng’s dark eyes grew even more profound.
Uncontrollably, the image of another woman surfaced in his mind.
When he was eight years old, he was still an unfavored prince.
His mother was of low status, and he had no maternal relatives to rely on—only the disdain, bullying, and endless neglect of others.
That year.
For some unknown reason, the late emperor suddenly took an interest and selected a group of sons and daughters of officials over the age of five to enter the palace as study companions.
Su Yunyan entered the palace at that time.
She was the illegitimate daughter of the Vice Minister of Rites, of low status and originally unqualified to enter the palace.
But that year, the legitimate daughter of the Vice Minister of Rites’ household fell ill, and only she, the illegitimate daughter, was of the right age and was forced to take her place.
An illegitimate daughter.
It destined her, like him, to be looked down upon by others.
It was also because of this that, in private, the two gradually drew closer for warmth.
That was also one of the few warm periods in Zong Zhengheng’s memory.
But it lasted only a year.
A year later, the late emperor abolished the study companion system, and those sons and daughters returned to their respective homes.
Su Yunyan left as well.
On the day of her departure, her eyes reddened as she bowed to him with proper etiquette and said, “Your Highness, take care.”
He stood in place, watching her figure disappear at the end of the palace gate, saying nothing.
Later, he gradually grew up.
He learned to endure and to scheme, with no mind for romantic love.
His mother had no family background or connections; if he wanted to live well, he could only rely on himself.
Step by step, he endured what others could not and did what others dared not.
At the age of fifteen.
He took the initiative to request permission from the late emperor to lead troops south to suppress pirates.
At that time, Zong Zhengheng, if he stayed in the capital, would merely be fish on a chopping block, at the mercy of others. It was better to go out and fight for a way to survive.
He went.
And stayed for five years.
He grew from a green youth into a commander leading millions of troops.
Pirates in the south trembled at the mere mention of his name, coastal nations bowed in submission, and no country dared to violate the borders of Great Zhang again.
At the age of twenty, he returned to the capital by imperial decree.
Five years on the battlefield, his hands stained with blood.
His aura of slaughter was too heavy, so he went to the Fanyin Temple by imperial decree to chant sutras and worship Buddha, seeking inner peace.
Yet he never expected to encounter Su Yunyan there again.
In a side hall, Su Yunyan was praying:
“Your humble devotee Su Yunyan, aged seventeen, is currently being arranged for marriage by her family. But in her heart… she has long held someone. He was once the Fifth Prince, now the feared Prince Xuan. Your devotee knows she is unworthy of His Highness, and only prays for the Buddha’s compassion, allowing her to remain in the company of the divine, never to marry another. Your devotee is willing to live a life of simplicity and devotion, ending her days with an ancient lamp and Buddha.”
Listening to her voice, their past suddenly flooded back into his mind.
That year, she was five, and he was eight.
Twelve years had passed since they parted.
In those twelve years, how many people he had killed, how much blood he had seen, he could no longer remember.
Yet that timid little girl who once tugged at his sleeve has always remained quietly in a corner of his heart.
Now, before the Buddha, she says there is someone in her heart.
And that person is him.
Standing outside the door, he suddenly smiles.
If she does not wish to marry, then she shall not marry.
He will surely become the emperor.
From the very first day he decided to contend for that position, he never doubted this.
Zong Zhengheng leaves a note for Su Yunyan: Wait for this prince.
He does not sign his name, but he inexplicably feels that Su Yunyan should understand.
At that time, the late emperor was gravely ill, and undercurrents surged within the court.
After returning to the capital, he was enfeoffed as Prince Xuan, holding military power in the south, becoming a target for various factions to win over.
He does not rush into action, only quietly contacting the Imperial Astronomical Bureau.
The Imperial Astronomical Bureau soon submits a memorial, stating that celestial phenomena are abnormal and that no joyous events should take place in the capital within two years.
The late emperor approves it.
Thus, the marriage arrangements her family made for her are shelved.
Later, the late emperor passes away, and he ascends the throne as emperor.
The Empress Dowager urges him to select consorts, saying the harem cannot be without a mistress for even a day.
He merely shakes his head, saying the court is not yet stable and he has no mind for women.
The Empress Dowager does not know what he truly thinks—
The current court is in ruins, with various factions watching covetously, all waiting to carve up this new emperor.
If he selects consorts now, even if he could find a way to bring Su Yunyan in, he would have neither the time nor the energy to protect her.
So he declines.
Seeing his genuine disinterest, the Empress Dowager takes a step back and issues an edict:
All women of marriageable age in Great Zhang are forbidden from discussing marriage arrangements until after the emperor selects his consorts.
This decree perfectly aligns with his wishes.
He does not want her to marry anyone.
Before he can openly bring her into the palace, no one else shall wed her.
Another year passes in this waiting.
He originally thought that after coming to Jinzhou this time and eliminating Qiao Nanyu, most of Great Zhang’s military forces would fall into his hands.
The civil officials could be dealt with slowly—he has plenty of patience.
The matter of selecting consorts should also be put on the agenda.
She is already twenty this year.
For ordinary women, remaining unmarried past eighteen makes them old maids, subject to gossip.
She has waited for him all these years; indeed, he has delayed her for too long.
But now—
Zong Zhengheng gazes at Qiao Shuyi sitting before the dressing mirror.
Under the candlelight, her dark hair cascades down, and her plain clothes are as white as snow.
The face in the mirror is bright-eyed and clear-toothed, lively and innocent, yet what lies within is a madwoman.
Tonight, can he still refuse her?
Every refusal comes with a price.
Every resistance brings punishment.
The moonlight outside the window falls coldly upon him, upon his stiffened back and his lowered brows and eyes.
Beneath those brows and eyes, something is sinking, little by little.