Chapter One

Although it’s nearly the Beginning of Autumn, the cicadas still chirp noisily, and the palace remains thick with summer heat.

I couldn’t sleep properly, so I slipped out of the palace and walked along the Taiye Pool corridor to get some air, unknowingly reaching Shaohua Pavilion. The names of the pavilions and towers in the Daming Palace are all so romantic—one supposes the Li clan has always been fond of grand gestures… These past few days the Taiye Pool has been shrouded in mist and rain, which only adds to its already secluded charm.

Because the evening dew was heavy and I had been treading through grass, my shoes grew damp. I saw a light burning in Shaohua Pavilion and felt a curiosity to investigate; I had taken only a couple of steps forward when a rich fragrance wafted into my nose.

“Your Majesty…”

My heart lurched; I took a startled step back. Could the emperor really be amusing himself here in the middle of the night? I’d heard from Wan’er that the emperor had been absorbed in state affairs these past few days—had he grown tired of staying in Penglai Hall and brought his documents all the way to the Taiye Pool?

Curiosity surged, so I crept to the window for a look.

Beneath the dim palace lamp, layers of curtains half-shrouded the inner chamber. On the couch the emperor lay with eyes half-closed; her embroidered silk and gauze slipped to reveal skin, slightly disheveled. Though she was no longer young, a flush still warmed her face, and there was a storm simmering in her gaze. The man in the teal brocade beside her had already slipped a hand beneath her skirt, his lips close to her ear as if murmuring something… With the candlelight flickering, waves of sensual desire lapped at the edges.

My ears were filled with the thudding of my heart; I clenched my hands, a thin sheen of cold sweat already forming.

This was no place to linger…

Watching the two of them already shedding their gauzy shirts, I sucked in a breath. I instinctively stepped back but my foot found nothing, and a searing pain shot through me. Before I could react I let out an involuntary “ah” and crashed into an embrace, my mouth immediately clapped shut by a hand.

In the two years since entering the palace, it was only thanks to Di Renjie being appointed chancellor today that I had the fortune to step out for the first time.

I took the delicate pastry the handmaiden Yiping handed me and lifted a corner of the carriage curtain. Pedestrians flowed like fish crossing a river, and carriages like shuttles; our coach didn’t move fast, yet even those far off made way, and I couldn’t help but sigh again.

Because of that sigh, one of the two people discussing matters inside the carriage laughed aloud: “I tell you, Prince Hengan, your big maid thinks herself small but with a grand temperament. How can such a little girl sigh like that? Makes my chest ache just hearing it.”

“His Majesty says so too — this eleven-year-old girl, why is she always sighing or sighing,” Wu Youzhi looked at me kindly. “She’s not so small anymore; though raised in the palace from childhood, in a few years she’ll be ready to marry.”

“With the emperor’s favor, she’ll make a good match,” Wu Sansi raised his brows and looked at me thoughtfully.

I pretended not to notice, broke the pastry in my hand in half, and leisurely popped a piece into my mouth, the corner of my mouth curving on its own. In that seemingly peaceful, prosperous era—the Daming Palace where undercurrents roiled—who would not grow up?

It was now the second year of Emperor Wu’s reign; the Wu family ruled the world.

Because my mother died young, I was raised in a concubine’s household and was only brought into the palace to attend the emperor two years ago. My days were spent reading and reading; I had no other skills. I had read many history books, but not nearly as broadly as Wan’er.

Settling my thoughts, I lifted my eyes to look at my father, who only smiled without speaking.

He was a man with neither notable achievements in governance nor any appetite for power struggles; he seemed far kinder and gentler in expression than someone like Wu Sansi. Still, even though they’d only met a few times since childhood, I knew my father was by no means mediocre—and in these chaotic times, how many mediocre men could have survived at all?

For example, the man in front of him—Wu Sansi, who could turn clouds and rain at will.

A maid stood by my side, occasionally dabbing at the crumbs that had fallen onto me with a pink kerchief. I was lost in my own thoughts, idly nibbling on a sweet-and-sour pastry, and sleepiness began to wash over me.

Last night I’d watched a live sex show—still with others—and hadn’t slept a wink the whole night.

“Why is Prince Hengan being so cautious? It’s a shame we’re still brothers of the same surname,” Wu Sansi said with a smile. “The Emperor has been on the throne for two years now. Although Li Dan has been briefly invested as crown prince, privately he still hesitates. If our Wu family doesn’t unite, I fear that after His Majesty’s years are up, our lives will be in danger.”

The empress has only reigned for two years; talking about succession so soon is premature, but it was a fact everyone was eager to probe. That remark made me pause mid-bite, the half-eaten pastry in my mouth and my eyes flicking to him. He returned my look with a similarly inscrutable gaze. He must have noticed my reaction—yet he only set down his teacup and kept staring at my father.

This man… really doesn’t bother to hide anything from me?

“An emperor like His Majesty is a once-in-a-millennium figure; who can fathom his sacred will?” my father said with a smile. “Today Di Renjie holds a banquet to take up the chancellorship; princes and royal grandsons will attend. We should restrain ourselves—after all, they are the blood of His Majesty.”

Wu Sansi raised an eyebrow without speaking; a faint, inscrutable smile flitted across his refined face.

Di Renjie had not wanted to make a big show of celebrating his appointment as chancellor, but as the emperor’s favored minister at the time, protocol demanded a banquet be held in the imperial gardens. Despite Di Renjie’s repeated refusals, it was finally arranged in his own garden. Though it was a ministerial banquet, the imperial banquet staff came in person to prepare it — this chancellor was truly as popular as could be.

I stepped down from the carriage with my father the king; lanterns and festive decorations adorned the garden gate, filling the scene with joy. Named sedans and carriages arrived one after another, unending congratulations reaching our ears, all praising the host’s wealth and auspiciousness.

There had originally been three or four attendants to receive guests, but when they saw us they instantly surged forward — not because of my father, but because the one everyone wanted to see was Prince Liang, Wu Sansi, the apple of the emperor’s eye.

“Prince Liang, Prince Heng’an,” one of the men in his thirties bowed and said, “this garden only opened today, and distinguished guests keep arriving in waves. Now that Prince Liang has come, it truly brings auspiciousness.” As he spoke he shifted his body to the side, his waist still bent as if it might never straighten.

Wu Sansi smiled and nodded, saying, “Since Chancellor Di has hosted the banquet, why hasn’t he personally greeted his guests?” He motioned for his attendants to present the guest list, while he deliberately glanced left and right, saying, “Could it be that some honored guest arrived and forgot about people like us?”

What a bold tone, I stole a glance at him. As chancellor, Di Renjie greeting you would be a courtesy; not greeting you is also within his rights. To question him like that… he truly behaved more princely than the princes themselves.

The man’s smile tightened, and after a brief hesitation he said, “The Crown Prince has just arrived; the chancellor is attending to him.”

“Li Dan?” Wu Sansi asked my father and me, though he seemed not to need our answer. “Look at my memory—His Majesty granted the surname Li Dan two years ago, and I still haven’t gotten used to it. Now there’s no Li Dan anymore,” he laughed and stepped further inside. “Since His Highness the Crown Prince is present, the Prime Minister will of course keep him company—no matter, no matter.”

His few barbed words left my father expressionless, but the servants nearby couldn’t quite bear it; they gave awkward forced smiles and made way for the rest of us.

Li Dan had indeed abdicated two years earlier to make way for his own mother. An emperor who ascends the throne only to be forced back into the role of crown prince within a few years—one could say that all of Wu Sansi’s taunts were humiliation wrought by the emperor himself. To have such a mother is truly lamentable.

This place could not compare to Linde Hall, yet it still felt unworldly.

They proceeded with lanterns bobbing at the branch tips; countless servants bowed and stepped back, carrying plates of every size and color. When they reached the front of a garden, the guide finally lifted his sleeve and said, “The two princes and the commandery princess, please—looks like the banquet is about to begin.”

Wu Sansi lifted an eyebrow and stepped into the garden first.

At that moment Di Renjie was surrounded by people; seeing the three of us enter, he strode over with a smile and said, “The two princes are fashionably late—” As he spoke he reached out and gripped Wu Sansi’s hand, “Did Prince Liang and Prince Heng’an meet by chance on the road?”

Wu Sansi shook his head and said, “Chancellor Di, you’re mistaken. We did not meet by chance; we have just come from the palace. The Emperor’s health is a little unwell, and she asked me to offer Chancellor Di three cups of wine on her behalf—” He dragged out the last syllable slightly, and the hall grew even quieter.

Di Renjie smiled at him, ignoring his ostentation, and merely bowed his hand toward the direction of the Daming Palace, saying, “The emperor is kind, but I will not be drunk or go home tonight.” After speaking, his expression softened a bit and he looked at me. “The young princess has accompanied His Majesty for two years; come to think of it, since entering the palace she hasn’t really been out much, has she?”

“Speaking of it, it’s truly been the chancellor’s blessing,” I said with all due courtesy, bowing low and smiling. “The emperor says this Yong’an girl usually shirks study and prefers the tricks of guessing games and drinking challenges, which happen to liven up the chancellor’s banquets. When wine is raised and songs are sung, life is short — Yong’an will help Prince Wang’s official career go smoothly, be Emperor Wu’s ‘Dukang to dispel sorrow,’ and help him establish the flourishing Zhou!”

I really wasn’t good at those drinking games, but I had a private motive: I couldn’t bear to see the dignified Di Renjie bullied by a pretty face like Wu Sansi, so I thought it best to steady the situation a bit.

Everyone around us laughed at that line, which conveniently blunted Wu Sansi’s remark by about a third.

Wu Sansi also forced a smile, but his eyes were on me.

Di Renfen cupped his hands at a distance again and laughed, “That portrait owes thanks to His Majesty’s favor—” His gaze softened as he continued, “I’ve heard the little princess particularly enjoys ancient lines and Han music. The ‘Short Song’ we just heard contains an immortal verse taken from the Book of Songs; does the little princess know which one?” He wasn’t impatient when he finished, only teasing as he looked at me.

I thought for a moment and said, “Is it ‘Qing qing zi jin, you you wo xin’?” (Blue, blue your collar; long, long is my heart.)

Who doesn’t know such a famous line? Yet its sentiment is of lingering love, not fitting for today… I couldn’t tell what he intended.

Just as I hesitated, Di Renjie suddenly laughed and said, “The young duchess is indeed clever.” He looked at my father. “If I may hazard a guess, His Majesty this time not only came to assist me in entertaining, but also intends to let the young duchess see the various gallant youths, to select a most worthy groom for Prince Heng’an—”

The emperor replied jokingly, “The one who truly knows His Majesty is Chancellor Di. I’ll take Chancellor Di’s good word for it.”

I glumly glanced at Di Renjie—how did this end up being about me? I’m not ready to spend the best years of my youth nursing a child and fighting with concubines over jealousy.

I saw them laughing heartily and hurriedly said, “You flatter me, Minister… The Emperor only wants me to learn from you how to keep my belly steady. Just a few days ago I mentioned to His Majesty that the palace’s jade dew buns had changed flavor, and he remembered it. When he left the palace today he specifically told me to learn more from the Minister about how to conduct oneself, not to be arrogant, not to be petty, ah…” I blinked and said, “I was merely complaining in passing, yet the Emperor used you to lecture me. With the label ‘arrogant’ stuck on me, who would dare take me seriously—”

Di Renjie laughed heartily and said, “What a sharp tongue. Just now, when discussing marriage, you once again flattered my true self. You must have learned bad habits in the palace from your sister Wan’er.”

I hurriedly protested that I wouldn’t dare. Father only patted my forehead and then went to his seat with Wu Sansi. When we sat, I cast a glance, intentional or not, at the few tables to my left; Crown Prince Li Dan was meticulously sipping his tea, and seated beside him were several who must be imperial grandchildren.

The young man who was speaking with the Crown Prince happened to turn his head just then.

For a moment, that clear, moist gaze cut through the bustling guests and fixed on me. It was—unexpectedly—the boy who had covered my mouth last night.

So he was the emperor’s legitimate grandson.

In that instant, the previous noisy congratulations all faded; the only things I could hear were my own heartbeat and breathing. If not for him, last night would have been fraught with untold danger. And he…

I was still lost in thought when my sleeve was gently tugged a few times—maid Yiping had come to pour me another cup of tea and, pointing toward the garden, signaled that she was taking her leave. I hastily composed myself, smiled and nodded, and said softly, “Don’t be afraid. If you should eat, then eat more.” She had entered the palace as a child; this really was her first time leaving it. Her temperament was gentle—she’d likely be frightened by those sharp-tongued servants.

Yiping smiled kindly and slipped away quietly.

After Minister Di proposed the toast, the banquet swung wide open; after three rounds of wine it had become exceedingly lively. The Tang court was open-minded, and there were many literati and scholars—among those Di Renjie invited were not only royal scions and high officials but also some great literary masters.

I swallowed a bite of crystal phoenix-and-dragon cake and suddenly saw that youth rise and walk out of the hall. My heart stirred; I set down my chopsticks and told my father I felt a bit stifled and would go for a walk. My father nodded and, after a few brief words, let me go.

As soon as I passed through the Yingcui Gate, I saw him standing in the corridor.

That cloister faced a rockery of artificial mountains and boulders—an excellent view—and before me the youth in green robe and jade girdle stood tall. His long, narrow eyes held a chill like moonlight; though his expression was calm, there was an unmistakable air of refined charm about him. No wonder he was an imperial grandson.

I paused for a moment, then saw him look at me and couldn’t help feeling a little nervous.

But I had come simply to give thanks, with no ulterior motive.

I hurried over, bent at the waist and bowed, saying, “Prince of Yongping.” Though I was guessing, from the seating just now he sat next to his father; nine times out of ten he must be Li Dan’s eldest son, the deposed Crown Prince Li Chengqi, styled Xian.

He gave a faint smile and inclined his head. “You needn’t be so formal, Princess. By rank and by generation we sit as equals.”

I rose and said, “This kowtow is to repay the prince’s rescue last night.”

Although my mouth had been covered last night, the two people in the room were ultimately startled; the Emperor immediately stood up and shouted, angrily asking who it was. At that moment he was clutching me to his chest and I thought I was done for, but to my surprise the next moment the palace maid Yidu suddenly pushed the door open and knelt down, saying she couldn’t find the Emperor and, after searching, had come upon His Majesty.

Only after Yidu withdrew did I realize my back was soaking wet and my limbs still weak.

Yidu was the Emperor’s favored maid; these amorous affairs were never hidden from her, so the Emperor only scolded briefly and let it be. The existence of favored companions was well known in the palace, but the Emperor had only been on the throne two years and still had his scruples—had he discovered me, who knows how he might have punished me, so he let it pass.

Since returning from Taiye Pond to the palace, I spent the whole night tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep soundly.

Yidu’s appearance was by no means a coincidence; he must be the boy’s planted informant in the palace. But what rank could possibly have put an agent so close to the imperial grandaunt and allowed him to be favored all the way to this point? That doubt has finally been cleared up: given Yi Yongping Junwang’s former status as crown prince, pulling off something like this isn’t that difficult.

Li Chengqi’s smile deepened: “I didn’t save you; I saved myself. The princess needn’t worry so much.”

That single sentence scattered all the words that had been swelling in my chest.

I had nothing more to say, so I returned his smile and replied, “No matter what the prince says, I am after all someone who benefited — one day I will repay this favor.” Having said that, I performed the courtly bow and was about to turn away when he spoke again.

“The line you quoted at the feast just now, I have read it,” he paused, then spoke gently, “Qingqing zi pei, youyou wo si. Zong wo bu wang, zi ning bu lai? Tiao xi da xi, zai chengque xi. Yi ri bu jian, ru san yue xi.”

By the moonlight his eyes were as clear as water; I was taken aback and did not dare to guess at the depth of his meaning, only replying vaguely, “`The Book of Songs’ is truly a work where every word is weighty. Yong’an had heard that the prince is a man of talent and that you learned such things early — I only used the moment to show off, and would never presume to debate poetry with the prince.”

Li Chengqi smiled at me and after a long moment asked, “What else has the princess heard about me?”