From the first year of the Tianshou era, Luoyang was designated the “Divine Capital.”

Since I came to the Daming Palace, my imperial grandaunt has spent more than half the year at Taichu Palace handling state affairs. According to Wan’er, after the sacrificial incense offering at the Fengxian Temple this time, the Emperor will reside at Taichu Palace year-round, and naturally all of us grandchildren will move to Luoyang with him.

“Yiping,” I said, sitting in the carriage as I took the tea she handed me, “starting next year you and I will be living in Taichu Palace.”

Yiping smiled at me.

“The maid has always heard Yidu talk about Taichu Palace and how it is—finally I have a chance to see it.”

I drank the hot tea, wrapped my robe tighter around myself, and made a few casual remarks with her about Luoyang.

When I was young, I once accompanied my father, the king, on a trip to Luoyang. I was too small to remember much, but over the past two years since entering the palace, I’ve often heard Wan’er speak of it, and gradually some curiosity has grown.

When Imperial Aunt ascended the throne, she built the Seven Temples of the Wu clan, and last year she even relocated a hundred thousand households from across the provinces into Luoyang City. Everything seems to be preparing for what is, in effect, a move of the capital.

The Li dynasty has its capital at Chang’an; Imperial Aunt’s actions are meant to make Luoyang the capital of the Wu dynasty.

Taichu Palace, Taichu Palace—its name carries the sense of the Wu Great Zhou’s founding, of the opening of heaven and earth, the beginning of all things.

By afternoon, Yidu came to deliver a message: the emperor had grown somewhat fatigued from riding and had summoned the princely lords and princesses to disembark and accompany him for a short rest by the banks of the Jishui River.

I answered and, after straightening myself slightly, stepped down from the carriage.

From afar by the Jishui River, I saw the imperial grandaunt in a bright yellow dragon-embroidered robe chatting with Wan’er. Beside her stood several princes and princesses, palace maids and eunuchs carrying censers and pheasant-feather fans, following at a respectful distance.

As I approached and bowed, the imperial grandaunt was speaking about Ouyang Tong.

She only gave a slight nod to indicate I should rise, then turned back to Wan’er and said,

“Since Lai Juncheng has already made his testimony, grant Ouyang Tong death. Remembering that his father Ouyang Xun once received high praise from Taizong, reduce the punishment to one person and spare the nine clans.”

Wan’er agreed and offered more flattering words.

I made a point of staying at the back of the group, pulling my cloak tight, when someone lightly tugged my sleeve.

I turned hurriedly.

It was Li Longji.

He stared at me intently, his beautiful phoenix-like eyes full of puzzlement and thought, then shifting into comprehension.

I gave him a wink.

“Yong’an greets the Prince of Linzi.”

He murmured,

“That day you were an ugly palace maid with blotchy makeup; today you look like a princess.”

I glanced at him sideways and snorted.

Today the young prince wore a purple brocade robe with a black outer cloak, looking as pretty as a delicate beauty.

A spark of memory struck me.

Father had once mentioned it—when our imperial grandaunt ascended the throne, he had disguised himself as a woman and performed Changming Nu, stunning all the officials.

I couldn’t help laughing softly.

“Yong’an often hears the uncles talk about the Prince of Linzi dressing as a woman to sing Changming Nu. Though just a child, you already outshone the Great Ming Palace.”

Li Longji flushed red.

“How can I, a proud prince, be spoken of like a woman?”

I motioned for him to lower his voice.

“You’re overthinking it. Yong’an means you’re naturally talented—your imitation was vivid. You were the highlight of that banquet.”

He glanced sideways, then smiled.

“If you’d seen that feast, you probably wouldn’t say that.”

He lifted his chin.

“My eldest brother played a jade flute that night. People still sing about it.”

I followed his gaze.

Li Chengqi stood beside the imperial great-aunt, emerald brocade beneath a moon-white cloak, seven parts dashing, three parts restrained elegance.

The Emperor smiled.

He returned it with a slight nod.

I stared, lost for a moment—until the Emperor suddenly looked over.

Wan’er and Li Chengqi also turned.

Our eyes met.

Flustered, I quickly looked away.

“Princess Yong’an, Prince of Linzi,” Wan’er said, “the Emperor orders you forward.”

We stepped up and bowed.

When we rose, the Emperor asked,

“Longji was born in Luoyang—have you been to the Guozijian?”

“I’ve passed by many times,” Li Longji replied, “but never entered.”

The Emperor nodded, then turned to me.

“Yong’an, have you heard of it?”

I nodded.

“When I was young I heard Mr. Xie speak of it. Most jinshi come from Chang’an and Luoyang. It’s a sacred place students across the realm aspire to.”

The Emperor smiled.

“Don’t speak like that old pedant. What else?”

I thought briefly.

“I’ve heard there are students from foreign lands as well.”

I glanced at Wan’er.

“Sister Wan’er said people from Silla and the Abbasid Caliphate study there, using Zhou characters and reading Zhou books.”

The Emperor nodded.

Wan’er is right.

He then instructed Li Chengqi to take the younger siblings to visit someday.

From then on, the Emperor spoke endlessly about last year’s examinations.

Li Chengqi answered flawlessly.

Wan’er listened, occasionally adding remarks.

After walking awhile, my hands reddened painfully from the cold.

Eventually I returned to the carriage.

Yiping handed me a warmer.

“The Emperor really has stamina.”

I complained softly.

Moments later, a eunuch delivered hand balm.

Inside was a silver gilt box, scented with jade bamboo.

Joy rose quietly in my heart.

The next morning, Li Longji came early.

“We’re going to the Guozijian today.”

I sighed.

Only eight years old, yet already speaking like a crown prince.

Before leaving, I applied the ointment.

The fragrance lingered on my fingertips.

By the palace gate, Li Chengqi and Li Longji waited.

Inside the carriage, tea steamed.

Li Chengqi placed me by the brazier.

Li Longji said,

“Elder brother prepared this because he worries you get cold.”

Embarrassed, I made tea.

When I handed him the cup, my fingers trembled—

and hot water splashed onto him.

📘 The complete novel is available for download in PDF via the link below.