PM - 51

The Young Emperor had not been unkind to him. A man without any notable achievements had been bestowed the title of marquis, with an annual stipend and residence meticulously provided according to the standards of a Marquis Within the Passes. If not for their childhood connection, how could such preferential treatment have been possible?

Among all the civil and military officials in court, who wasn’t envious of him? As a close confidant of the emperor and a trusted aide, simply standing guard at the Zhangde Hall guaranteed boundless wealth and prestige. But who could understand the burdens behind it all? If given a choice, he would rather know nothing. Ignorant people often live long lives, while those who see through worldly affairs are plagued by nightmares. To escape—what a foolish dream!

The snow intermittently stopped and resumed; during the day, someone shoveled it, but at night, with biting cold and no pedestrians on the streets, it began to accumulate. He gripped the reins tightly, feeling the sharp sting of cold in his hands. The mere two-li distance from Xuanwu Gate to Guangyang took him half an hour to traverse.

How wonderful it would be to stay on the road forever! But the lanterns at the entrance of his residence swayed, their light already illuminating the bridle of his mount. He saw the steward run out from inside, rubbing his hands together as his breath turned into clouds of vapor while he came to take the reins. Smiling, he said, “I thought Master would stay on duty tonight, so I let everyone rest… Have you eaten? Shall I have them prepare hot water for you to relax?”

He didn’t respond. The armor clinked with his movements as he walked, asking, “How is the Princess today?”

The steward replied, “She had a bowl of soup for dinner and nothing else. She asked me when Lord Marquis would return. I told her that Lord Marquis was on duty tonight and advised her to retire early. She seemed unhappy after hearing that. When I made my nightly rounds, I saw that the lights in the main room were still on, and there were still attendants coming in and out to care for her.”

Although Langlang hadn’t officially entered the household yet, the imperial edict of marriage had already been issued, and both inside and outside knew she was to be the Lady of the Marquis Within the Passes. Thus, everyone in the residence treated her as the mistress, attending to her needs diligently.

A child bereft of her mother’s protection exuded an air of loneliness. He became her sole support within the capital. She once asked him, “Mother has gone. Can Brother protect me?” At that moment, he felt unable to answer. After all, how could someone who couldn’t even control his own life have the right to talk about protection? But to comfort her, he nodded. She slowly smiled, her sleeves gathered. “That’s good. I’ll rely on Brother from now on.”

Now, this person entrusted with responsibility in a crisis was about to abandon his post. She probably never imagined that the one taking her life would be her own cousin, her husband-to-be.

He stopped at the corridor under the eaves of the main room, shaking off the snow from his shoulders. Hearing the commotion, a figure quickly emerged to open the door, slightly bent over. The maid, startled by his sudden appearance, held up her lantern, casting light upward onto his face. His pale and haggard visage frightened her. She gasped, “Lord Marquis has arrived? Please wait a moment, I’ll have the young lady dressed.”

He said, “No need. You may all withdraw. I wish to speak with the Princess.”

All the attendants serving Langlang withdrew. He removed his armor in the outer chamber before entering the inner room. Passing through a bead curtain, he saw a child standing beside the plain silk bed curtains—not yet tall, not as neatly dressed as during the day. She had likely just retired, her hair loose, wearing only a snow-white satin sleeping robe.

“Brother…” Compared to their first meeting, Langlang had grown thinner, her eyes appearing even larger. Seeing him enter, she stared blankly, her gaze a mix of fear and longing.

He pressed his hands against his knees, squatting halfway down to ask, “Why haven’t you slept yet?”

He was adept at communicating with children. Even someone harboring a hidden dagger could still use a soothing tone to comfort.

Langlang seemed to lower her guard. Living in someone else’s palm without any leverage, no matter how cautious she was, it wouldn’t help. The tension in her shoulders visibly relaxed, and she gave a faint smile. “I was just about to sleep when Brother returned. Actually, Brother doesn’t need to worry about me. I’m very well taken care of here, and the eunuchs sent by the Emperor also serve me meticulously.”

When she mentioned the eunuchs, there was evident disgust in her eyes. He put on a smile. “There’s nothing urgent tonight. I informed Chancellor Hulü and came back to keep you company.” Glancing around, he noticed a gilded brazier in the inner chamber. Fearing she might catch a chill if she lingered outside too long, he gestured inside. “Go to bed. I’ll talk to you in there.”

Being still a child, she wasn’t constrained by societal norms about male-female interactions. Obediently nodding, she returned to the inner chamber, climbed back under the covers, and asked, hugging the brocade quilt, “Brother, it’s been snowing for a whole day and night. Where do you think Mother’s carriage has reached?”

He avoided looking into her clear eyes, lowering his lashes as he replied, “Perhaps they’ve reached Ganquan. With bad weather, the journey will be slower. This kind of weather is unsuitable for traveling—people freeze, horses tire, and there are mountains to cross…”

But she showed no concern. “The official roads are very smooth. We didn’t experience any bumps on our way here. Initially, King Qin built a direct road from Xianyang to Shangjun, but unfortunately, he passed away before it could be completed. Father, for Mother’s convenience in visiting relatives in the capital, specially ordered the project to be resumed, extending it all the way to Shuofang… My father treats my mother very well. Will Brother treat Langlang well in the future?”

Everyone has a story. In a world dominated by power, how many loves are destroyed artificially? It’s unbearable to think about. He lowered his head and sighed. “Of course. Langlang, marrying me as your husband, I will treat you well.”

The child sitting on the bed, hugging her knees, smiled. Her pointed canines looked especially adorable. But soon the smile faded, replaced by a hint of melancholy. “It’s a pity that Brother is the Emperor’s attendant and cannot leave the capital. How nice it would be to reside in a fiefdom! Back then, I was very happy in Shuofang. In September, when it snowed, Sister would take me out in a carriage to see the red plum blossoms. When the ice thickened, we’d cut holes in it and place fishing nets. Sometimes we caught a lot of fish in one go… Ah, I miss Shuofang so much. Do you think I can ever go back?”

Her inability to let go of the past tightened his heart. Regaining composure, he said, “When the weather warms up, you can still go back.” Seeing her disheartened, he quickly changed the subject. “Do you know how to catch fish, Langlang? Like a boy?”

A hint of pride appeared between her brows. “Sister says I was born in the wrong body—I should have been a boy. My father regrets it too, saying how nice it would have been if I were a son, so I could inherit his title.”

“Does Lord Gai have no sons?”

She nodded. “Mother had a difficult childbirth with me, and afterward, Father forbade her from having more children.”

He had once heard that Lord Gai and the eldest princess were deeply in love, thinking it was exaggerated flattery from a son-in-law seeking fame. Now it seemed it might all be true. If so, how would Lord Gai react upon learning of the eldest princess’s death? And how would he respond to the news of his youngest daughter’s death? Too many uncertainties made it unbearable to dwell on. He quietly observed Langlang, reaching out to smooth her hair. “Now it’s just the two of us. There’s something I want to ask you. Can you tell me the truth?”

Langlang seemed startled for a moment, then nodded slightly. “What does Brother want to ask?”

He placed his hands on the edge of the bed, struggling greatly to finally voice the question. “Did your mother… tell you why she hurriedly returned to Shuofang?”

She looked at him calmly. “My grandfather fell gravely ill, and Mother rushed back to tend to him. That’s the reason. What else does Brother want to know?”

Though disappointed, her reaction was one practiced countless times in her mind. Her forced calmness betrayed a deliberate effort, indicating she knew something. For a fleeting moment, he felt a sense of relief. If she wasn’t involved, he might not have been able to carry out the deed. But if she was aware, it significantly eased his guilt.

He stood up, looking down at her. “It’s late. Princess, please rest.”

Langlang raised her eyes, which carried too much emotion, and after a moment of silence, said, “Brother, I am weak… If I am to return to Shuofang, please escort me.”

His heart trembled, forcing a smile for her. “You can rest assured.”

Even if he escorted her on her final journey, he wouldn’t delegate it to others. Leaving the main room, he sat alone in the front courtyard for the entire night, repeatedly pondering the ins and outs of the entire affair. Thinking for too long numbed his mind, leaving him almost unsure of who he was.

Living alone in an unfamiliar place is excruciating. Langlang liked to stroll in the garden behind the Marquis’s residence. After the fresh snowfall, to prevent wetting her shoes, she wore wooden clogs underneath her soft satin slippers. Though the shoes were saved, walking became increasingly unstable.

Through the parapet wall, he watched her enter the pavilion by the fish pond. The steward glanced at him, quietly approached to relay orders, and found an excuse to dismiss everyone standing by in the garden. Still, he remained standing afar, watching. The nanny handed her a hand warmer, whispered something, and retreated from the pavilion. In that empty world, only she sat inside the tent, her bright-colored qūjū contrasting with the surrounding desolation, making the scene eerie and terrifying.

After much internal struggle, he finally walked over, step by step ascending the waterside pavilion. Unaware, she set down the hand warmer, leaned over the edge of the pool, and scattered fish food to feed the koi. It was too cold; the fish weren’t lively. She strained to see through the water’s surface, her nose nearly touching it. He didn’t know if, in her final moments, she saw his face reflected in the water. In haste, he forcefully pushed her head into the water. Her arms flailed desperately, startling the koi. He could feel a life fading away beneath his hands—first strong, then weakening, convulsing, spasming… Unable to hold back, he burst into tears. In that moment, he felt only hatred but didn’t know whom to hate.

The ripples on the shore gradually dissipated, returning to calm as if nothing had happened. Tiny flakes of snow drifted down from the sky, melting instantly upon hitting the water’s surface. He released his grip, watching Langlang sink downward, face down. Only her wide sleeves and back floated above the dark pool, drifting aimlessly.

He collapsed, tears frozen in his eyes, staring blankly at the water’s surface. The nanny assigned to the Princess arrived, glanced into the pond, her face as cold as the harsh weather—if she had raised the child since infancy, perhaps she would have been heartbroken. But this nanny came from the palace’s punishment quarters. Having witnessed countless hopeless cries from noblewomen locked away, she viewed death as the best form of liberation.

Stumbling, he rose and left the garden. Riding back into the palace, the Eastern Palace remained dazzling with gold and brilliance, devoid of any scent of death—only the stench of decaying power lingered. The Young Emperor sat in the main hall discussing politics with the Grand Tutor and the Secretary of State, smiling faintly when pleased. Such a noble person, yet capable of making others wish for death.

Lost in thought, Hulü Puzhao anxiously asked what was wrong. Struggling to compose himself, he finally turned his head. “This morning… Princess Gai drowned in the pond of the Marquis Within the Passes’ garden.”

“What?” Hulü was shocked. Such an incident was like a bolt from the blue. How could they easily explain the sudden death of someone in his residence? Moreover, he had been granted the title of marquis specifically to marry the Princess. Now, with her death, rumors of ingratitude would surely spread throughout the court.

He laughed bitterly. Already condemned both inside and out, what more was there to fear? Gripping Hulü Puzhao’s arm as if overwhelmed, he bent his back, gasping and muttering, “Even if I atone with my life, what else can be done!”

Hulü, worried, glanced toward the hall, fearing a breach of etiquette in front of ministers. Pulling and supporting him, he dragged him into the duty quarters.

Restless, he could only offer initial reassurance: “Don’t rush. Wait for the orders.”

Shangguan Zhao sat on the couch, forehead against the wall, eyes fixed, appearing dazed. Hulü, anxious, stood by the door, gazing far ahead. After a while, he saw the Grand Tutor and the Secretary of State exit through the palace gates. Turning back, he tugged him. “Report to the Emperor. After all, this isn’t a trivial matter.”

With heavy steps, he entered the main hall. The Young Emperor didn’t look at him, head bowed, reviewing documents behind the long desk. Approaching the reed mat before her, he removed his sword and placed it aside, bowing deeply. “Master, I am guilty.”

The Young Emperor finally raised her head. “What is it?” But he couldn’t speak.

Seeing this, Hulü stepped forward to report on his behalf: “Your servant just heard from Attendant Shangguan that Princess Gai passed away this morning at the residence of the Marquis Within the Passes.”

The person seated above held the scroll, suddenly slamming it onto the desk. “How did she pass?”

Shangguan Zhao, his face turning purple, ground his teeth and replied, “She slipped and fell into the water.”

Then the hall fell into complete silence, so quiet that not a sound could be heard. After a long while, the Young Emperor calmly instructed, “Ziqing, withdraw for now. Everyone inside and outside, withdraw as well.”

Soon, there was no third person left inside or outside the hall. The eunuchs closed the straight-lattice doors, turning it into a cage—no one could enter, no one could leave.

Fúwēi emerged from behind the desk, reaching out to steady him. “I know you couldn’t bear it. How could I bear it either? The order was mine to give. You don’t need to blame yourself. If anyone should pay with their life, it’s me—it’s not your fault.”

Suppressing emotions for so long always leads to an explosion. Violently, he shoved her away, laughing hysterically. “Pay with my life? How? You say you can’t bear it, but your actions chill the heart. How have you become like this? I no longer recognize you. Are you still the person you once were?”

He was disappointed in her—she knew that—but what could she do? Lowering her sleeves, she said, “I wish I could be the person I once was, but do you think I can go back? From the moment I ascended the throne, I was destined to walk this path to the end. Who pities me? Someone like me shouldn’t sit in this position. If something goes wrong, countless others will fall with me into ruin. Do you understand? I can only move forward. Anyone who poses a threat to me, I must kill. Once all the people in the world who know the truth are gone, I can preserve this empire.”

His eyes reddened as he demanded, “But will you only turn back when everyone abandons you?”

She paused. “Abandoned by all? I know that when my true identity is revealed to the world, I’ll truly be abandoned by everyone.” Raising her arms, her sleeves fell back, revealing thin, frail limbs. Possessed, she paced around the hall in circles. “This world, the Great Yin dynasty, is a man’s world. When will it tolerate a woman in power? I’m not a man. No matter how good my governance, how skilled my methods, a woman is still a woman! Shangguan Zhao, would you watch me be paraded in front of the Vermilion Bird Gate for public humiliation? Would you see me locked away in the palace prison, ending my life with a single rope? You once vowed to shatter your body for me, to sacrifice everything for me. Turns out, you’re just like the others—you look down on women. Once you learned my position was illegitimate, you changed your mind. The eldest princess, the young princess—anyone’s life is more important than mine because they lived authentically. Unlike me, I’m nothing but a walking corpse wrapped in human skin, aren’t I?”

The angrier she spoke, the more resentment welled up inside her, unable to vent. Perhaps shedding all burdens would allow her to breathe freely again. Spinning around, she grabbed the front of his robe, shaking him violently. “Listen to me! Stop acting so lifeless. The sky won’t fall! This world is cruel. I don’t want anyone else’s life, but tomorrow their blades will be at my throat. Everyone has a story, everyone has their reasons, don’t they? You have the leisure to pity others—why not pity me? I’m the childhood friend you grew up with!”

Unsteady on his feet from her shaking, his mind gradually cleared. Painfully, he looked at her, his voice nearly a wail. “Aying, when will you understand my heart? If I betray you, may I be struck down by heaven! But how have you treated me? You doubt me, suspect me, test me, pressure me… Now you’ve gotten your way. To prove myself, I personally killed the princess, and I’ll soon endure the curses of ten thousand people! You don’t understand me—I can charge into battle, behead enemies, flay them alive without blinking an eye. But Langlang was still a child…”

“And what if she was a child?” she pressed relentlessly. “Are there not enough children who take lives unexpectedly?”

Step by step, he retreated, knowing all hope was lost, and forced a bitter smile. “This is imperial strategy, this is the way of a ruler… Your Majesty, isn’t your goal to eliminate all threats? In this entire affair, the one most deserving of death is me, yet I still live!”

Suddenly, he picked up the jade-hilted sword, drawing it and pressing it to his neck. Fúwēi was horrified, reaching out to grab it. Her fingers clutched the blade, blood instantly dripping through her fingers. Enduring the pain, she sneered, “Why bother? I know—the person you truly want to kill is me. I made you a sinner, I stained your hands with blood. You hate me, so kill me.”

Though deranged, he wasn’t completely mad. How could he kill her? She had once been everything he aspired to.

Frozen in place, his rigid hand holding the sword finally dropped, and the weapon clattered to the floor. Like a child, he broke into uncontrollable sobs. “Aying, you’ve driven me to this… You’ve driven me to this…”

Fúwēi stepped back, leaning against a pillar, unable to suppress her sobs. Who had caused everything to become like this? Was she the culprit? Though she was at fault, wasn’t she also a victim? If there had been a way to fix things, who would willingly arrive at this point? Killing a mother and daughter was a grave sin; she knew one day she would face retribution.

On the verge of collapse, the intense emotions drained her completely. Just then, the hall doors suddenly burst open. Someone stormed in with the force of a thunderstorm, pulling a piece of cloth from their sleeve and fiercely hurling it at Shangguan Zhao’s face—

“Attendant, you brought the princess from the eldest princess’s carriage to your residence. Did you not realize she was aware during those two days? Out of consideration for old ties, tolerance was shown repeatedly. But in my view, such a dull-witted person absolutely should not remain by the Emperor’s side.”