Why was everyone urging her to kill someone? Meng Guqing was speechless, yet utterly unwilling to yield. She might hesitate endlessly over trivial matters, even over which hairpin to wear, but when faced with something truly important, her mind had never been clearer. She knew exactly what she was doing. Even if the Empress Dowager were here right now, she would not waver.
Killing was nothing to these people but she had lived her previous life tormented by illness for over twenty years. Every New Year, her mother would drag her to temples to burn incense, begging the heavens to let her live a little longer. Life was precious. There were countless ways to take it, but once taken, there was no way to restore it. Unless there was absolutely no other choice, Meng Guqing refused to bear the weight of another person’s death. She would never know peace again if she did.
No matter how long Gu Taifei argued, Meng Guqing would not be swayed. She warned Wang Ning again, no reckless actions. Only after the two left, helpless, did her thoughts grow sharper. The more she considered it, the more she felt something was off. She and Gu Taifei were hardly close, their interactions polite but distant. Gu Taifei had watched Noble Consort Xu grow up, her feelings for her should have been far deeper. So why, upon hearing the so-called “final decree,” had she not gone to warn Noble Consort Xu, but instead rushed here to urge Meng Guqing to kill her? Her eagerness seemed unnatural, unreasonable.
Uneasy, Meng Guqing secretly instructed Mingxia to keep an eye on Gu Taifei. Mingxia had served in the palace a long time and had connections with many palace maids and eunuchs. When anyone needed a favor from Fengyi Palace, they usually came first to Caiwei and Mingxia.
Though she tried to keep the matter quiet, whispers still spread through the palace. Everyone was tense and uneasy. The men Wang Ning sent out had yet to return and though people said “no news is good news,” this was no small matter. Even the Empress Dowager’s quarters remained silent.
As for Zhao Donglin’s “way out,” it was not the future she wanted, she refused even to think of it. Not only the contents of the decree, but its very existence she kept secret. Aside from Wang Ning and Gu Taifei, no one else knew. Yet despite her silence, someone was determined to make it known to all. When Mingxia hurried in, whispering Gu Taifei’s whereabouts into her ear, Meng Guqing knew at once, something had gone terribly wrong.
At that moment, the Jianjia Palace was in chaos. The Eldest Prince had sensed the unease in the air these past days and had become fretful, refusing to nurse, vomiting what little he ate, crying until Noble Consort Xu was utterly exhausted. With the emperor absent, her spirit had already been low; now, with the prince ill, she’d grown thin and wan. Hongfu, her maid, was anxious but helpless, worst of all, disturbing rumors had just reached the palace gates. She had caught fragments of it, enough to send her heart pounding in dread. Watching her mistress sitting limply in the chair, tears streaming silently down her face, she couldn’t help but think: if His Majesty truly never returned, what would become of her lady, still so young?
As mistress and maid sat steeped in sorrow, Gu Taifei arrived, gone was her usual kind, gentle smile. Her face was grim, and the matrons she brought with her were large, burly, and fierce. They stormed in, driving out the lesser maids and eunuchs, seizing Noble Consort Xu’s attendants. Hongfu froze in shock, and when she turned back, Noble Consort Xu was already being held down by the arms in her chair. Furious and frightened, she cried out, “Gu Taifei, what are you doing? Do you know who you’re laying hands on? The Eldest Prince is right here! Who are these people, what is the meaning of this?”
Gu Taifei, not wishing to lose the confidence of those present, gave them a reassurance cloaked as explanation: “His Majesty was ambushed on his way back to the capital and his fate is unknown. He left a decree to the Empress to support the Eldest Prince’s succession and let her govern from behind the curtain. The decree is in the Empress’s hands and will soon be proclaimed to all under heaven. Rest assured, I would never act on my own. If you help the Empress fulfill this duty, she will surely reward you.”
Yet her words were full of flaws. If the emperor’s fate was unknown, how could a “last decree” exist? And if such a decree did exist, why wasn’t it read openly before Noble Consort Xu to make her submit? Still, because the matter was grave and because Gu Taifei had always been gentle, never one to make wild claims, her sudden harshness struck fear into everyone’s hearts. For a moment, they were all stunned into obedience, swept along by her momentum.
“The Emperor cannot bear to part with the Noble Consort,” Gu Taifei said coldly. “He decrees that she is to be buried with him.”
When Hongfu heard that the Emperor had ordered the Eldest Prince to ascend the throne, joy briefly lit her face, only to be crushed in the next instant by Gu Taifei’s words. Her heart plummeted into an abyss. Stiffly, she turned to look at the Noble Consort, whose face had turned deathly pale.
Noble Consort Xu was not without awareness. In fact, when she heard that the Emperor had allowed the Empress to act as regent behind the curtain, she had already begun to worry for her own life. Yet even when Gu Taifei uttered the word “buried”—the sound like a thunderclap that left her mind blank. Her first instinct was still disbelief.
“No,” she said, trembling, “I don’t believe it. His Majesty would never do this to me. If there truly is a decree, please, show it to me.”
Gu Taifei refused to speak further. Her chief maid, Ah Yue, came forward carrying a tray. On it were three items: a length of white silk, a dagger, and a cup of wine. There was no need to ask what kind of wine it was. Gu Taifei’s usually gentle face took on a terrifying look as she spoke, her tongue like a snake’s, words dripping with venom: “Consort, we’ve known each other many years, don’t make this difficult for me. Choose one. And when you go below, remember to apologize to my Jun’er. This time, don’t leave him alone. Tell me, in what way was Jun’er inferior to the Emperor? His heart toward you was just as sincere. But your eyes were always on the Emperor, you never saw my son. Do you know how much pain that caused him? The Emperor catches a cold and you grieve as if the heavens were falling, but when Jun’er lay dying and wished to see you, you refused to come out of so-called propriety. Do you know how long I’ve waited for this day?”
Noble Consort Xu’s mind reeled. There was too much hidden meaning in Gu Taifei’s words, and she no longer wished to sit and wait for death. She tried to rise, but the maid restraining her held her down with the strength of an iron clamp.
Gu Taifei picked up the cup herself and leaned close to the Consort’s ear. “This wine contains Qianji poison. Drink it, and you won’t feel a thing. I went through much trouble to obtain it. I should have made you drink it long ago, but you escaped me then. Now, after all the turns of fate, you must drink it after all. You see? Heaven’s will or perhaps Jun’er’s unwilling spirit calling you to accompany him. You owe him that much.”
When Meng Guqing arrived, she saw Gu Taifei trying to force the wine into Noble Consort Xu’s mouth and was so shocked her heart nearly stopped. “Stop!” she cried.
But her shout only made Gu Taifei press harder. Fortunately, the Empress had always been physically strong; she rushed forward, seized Gu Taifei’s arm, and pulled her several steps away. Gu Taifei, elderly and frail despite her long years of comfort, staggered and nearly fell.
Furious, she snapped, “Your Majesty, such womanly softness! Do you have any idea what disaster you’re keeping by your side? You protect her today, will she protect you tomorrow? You can’t bring yourself to act, so I’ll do it for you. What are you still hesitating for?”
“You think you’re helping me?” Meng Guqing retorted. “No, you’re helping yourself.” On her way here, she had already realized that the affection between Gu Taifei and the Consort might not have been as it appeared. Otherwise, why would Gu Taifei be so eager to take the Consort’s life? It was a ploy, a borrowed knife to kill. And Meng Guqing had no wish to be that knife.
“How am I helping myself?” Gu Taifei demanded. “The Emperor’s decree that the Noble Consort be buried with him, wasn’t it you, Your Majesty, who told me so yourself?”
Gu Taifei’s words struck directly at Noble Consort Xu’s heart. Meng Guqing could feel the Consort’s anguished gaze upon her. Anyone hearing that the man they loved had ordered their death would break apart inside. The matter was now laid bare but Meng Guqing refused to acknowledge it. “I never said that,” she answered calmly. “Gu Taifei acts on her own will, she knows well what she’s doing. Please return to your quarters, Gu Taifei. When the Emperor and the Empress Dowager return, they will see to this matter.”
It had been the Empress who ruined things last time as well. What had seemed a sure victory had slipped away again. Rage clouded Gu Taifei’s mind, how could she accept such failure? Pretending to retreat, she waited for the crowd’s attention to shift, then suddenly snatched the dagger from the tray and lunged at Noble Consort Xu.
But Hongfu, newly freed, had stepped forward to help the Consort to her feet. At the critical moment, without thinking, she threw herself in the way. The blade grazed her arm, drawing blood but Noble Consort Xu remained unharmed.
Gu Taifei fell to the floor. Her gaze, full of hatred, swept the room. Then, with a twist of her wrist, she drove the dagger into her own abdomen.
Everything happened too quickly. Shocked, Meng Guqing stared at the spreading red stain. Her heart ached. “Gu Taifei,” she murmured, “Little Brother Jun’s spirit in heaven would not want to see you like this.”
“Don’t speak to me!” Gu Taifei hissed. “You’ve ruined me twice! You know nothing!” Her eyes locked onto Noble Consort Xu, burning with hate. “It’s because of you, because of you that my son died! You save this venomous woman today, but you’ll regret it! My Jun’er was so filial, he wished for me to live in peace, but how can I live peacefully when he’s gone? Do you know how it felt, holding him as his breath faded in my arms, his body growing cold inch by inch? I wanted to die for him! Yet he still smiled, comforting me, said it didn’t hurt, said he was used to it, said leaving like that was a relief, that he’d watch over me from heaven. Told me not to grieve…”
Speaking of her lost son, Gu Taifei broke down in tears. Her grief was raw and terrible, words filled with such pain that even others could feel it.
Noble Consort Xu, herself a mother, could not bear to see her die with resentment. “Gu Taifei,” she said sorrowfully, “I understand your hatred. But I swear, I never harmed Jun’er. You knew how frail his health was.”
“You didn’t harm him? You dare say that?” Gu Taifei spat. “When the Emperor went missing after being taken hunting by the Regent, you knew my son’s health couldn’t stand the cold. Yet you asked him to go searching with you! He came back sick, and never rose again! If that’s not your doing, whose is it? You think that because you didn’t strike the blow yourself, you bear no guilt? You loved the Emperor—your Xu family saw him as a rare treasure. You should have told my son clearly! Instead, you kept him as a backup while flirting with the Emperor before his eyes. Xu Wan, you’re too cruel, what did my son ever do to deserve this?”
The Consort’s face paled under the storm of accusations. She, too, felt sorrow at the mention of Zhao Jun. “I never used him,” she said quietly. “I always saw him as a friend. I loved the Emperor, and I told him so. He even said he wished me happiness.” She could understand Gu Taifei’s grief but she would not shoulder a guilt that wasn’t hers.
“Then why,” the Empress Dowager raged, “when he was dying and I sent for you again and again, did you refuse to see him? You let him die with regret! Don’t deny it, I know you were afraid the Emperor would be jealous if he found out. That’s how you treated a man who truly loved you! So your ‘true love’ cast you aside in turn, retribution!”
Seeing the color drain from the Consort’s face, Gu Taifei seemed satisfied at last. Her gaze turned to the Empress, already dimming with death. “I meant to take both Xu Wan and the Emperor down with me, to make her beg forgiveness from my Jun’er in the underworld, and to drive the Emperor and his beloved apart. Empress… your luck is too good. How did you see through me? This was… the first time in my life I ever schemed against anyone…”
Her words ended there. Meng Guqing could no longer bear to meet those hate-filled eyes. She ordered Wang Ning to have Gu Taifei’s body returned to her palace, and the officials from the Court of Imperial Banquets summoned to record testimonies from everyone present, so there would be an account when the Emperor and Empress Dowager returned.
But Meng Guqing’s mind was unsettled. Zhao Donglin’s fate was still uncertain, and Noble Consort Xu clearly doubted the so-called decree’s authenticity. What she wanted most to know was whether Gu Taifei’s mention of burial was true. Meng Guqing didn’t wish to be involved and had no answer for her, so she said nothing and returned heavy-hearted to Fengyi Palace.
Her thoughts churned: anger, fear, indecision. She was only human; not everyone could face death calmly. The Emperor had left her a dilemma she could not resolve.
Was she really supposed to kill Noble Consort Xu to save herself? When she’d first received the decree, she’d sworn she wouldn’t be an executioner. But now that the Consort knew of its existence, would she likewise refuse to harm her? She couldn’t risk it. Everyone said she should strike first but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Her turmoil lasted until nightfall. When the moon rose high and bright, timeless and cold, her heart gradually stilled. She recalled a line from Spring River, Flower, Moon, Night: “Generation after generation, life goes on without end; yet year after year, the moon remains the same.” She didn’t know if the moonlight reached the next life but she knew that if she stained her hands with blood tonight, her conscience would never again be at peace beneath such moonlight.
Perhaps Gu Taifei’s final words—“the first time in my life I ever schemed against anyone”—were not regret, but relief that her plot had failed.
Meng Guqing let out a long breath. “Enough,” she whispered. “Better to pray for His Majesty’s safe return than to sit here thinking about murder. If he comes back, everything will be solved.”
It was already the third day. Tomorrow, surely, there would be news.
“Oh Heaven,” she murmured, “tell me, how is he now?”
“Heaven can’t tell you the answer,” a voice said. “But I can.”
The sound made Meng Guqing nearly jump out of her skin. She darted to the bamboo-curtained doorway, but saw no one. Knowing Caiwei and Fusang might come looking for her, she turned back warily, voice low. “Your Lordship,” she hissed, “why are you here again? I know you’re skilled and fearless, and you sneak into the palace as if it were your own home, but have I ever offended you? Must you keep scaring me like this?”
And his hearing really was too sharp, he’d caught even her muttering.
Xiao Shuo’s expression darkened, his good humor vanishing. “The palace isn’t my home,” he said coldly. “But is it yours? Do you really think your seat as Empress is that secure?”
So he knew everything. But now was not the time for this conversation. Meng Guqing could only sigh, exasperated. “You’re right, it’s not secure at all. So if you’d show me some mercy and leave before someone sees you, maybe I’ll have a chance to stay alive.”
“If I’ve come, then I won’t be discovered.”
Hearing the faint displeasure in his cold snort, she guessed he probably felt insulted, as if she had doubted his ability. People like him, so-called “masters,” must hate being suspected of incompetence. Besides, he’d been in the capital for six years already; it wasn’t as though he’d only started sneaking into the palace recently. If he were going to be found out, it would’ve happened long ago. Even her barely audible muttering hadn’t escaped his notice, surely an ordinary person’s footsteps wouldn’t either. Feeling somewhat reassured, Meng Guqing quickly said, “I know your martial arts are extraordinary and that few can match you. As you said yourself, my position as Empress isn’t all that secure. If you like it here, then stay. I have things to attend to, so I’ll take my leave first.”
Thinking it over, Meng Guqing realized Xiao Shuo wasn’t some nameless wanderer. If anyone caught him wandering around the inner palace, what good would it do him? For her, a little “improper behavior in the harem” would be a minor scandal but for him, a “diplomatic catastrophe.” He ought to be more worried than she was. Since he was worried, she didn’t need to be. She flicked her sleeve, preparing to leave.
The man was displeased again. “What do you mean by that?”
She had meant to yield the space to him, but it was clear this person’s moods shifted easily. There was no need to quarrel with him over trifles. “You just said you could answer my question. You know the emperor’s situation, don’t you? How is he now?”
“He’s dead. The people below didn’t dare hide it. In another hour, you’ll hear the news yourself. So? Do you regret not killing Noble Consort Xu now? I could help you with that but not for free. What are you going to offer me in return? Say something that satisfies me, and I’ll go help you clean up your problem right now.”
The words ‘He’s dead’ struck Meng Guqing like a heavy blow to the chest. Emotionally, she couldn’t bring herself to believe him. But with his earlier message as context, her reason began to waver. Forcing her thoughts away from Zhao Donglin’s supposed death, she focused instead on Xiao Shuo. What a deranged man, she thought. He actually takes pleasure in watching people kill. The first time he came to deliver news, he’d wanted to see her kill Noble Consort Xu. When that failed, he now tried to draw her into the act himself. Since he was such a reckless, unrestrained sort, she decided his words probably carried little weight.
Having sorted her thoughts, Meng Guqing gently shook her head and sat back down on the railing, her voice calm. “Thank you, Your Lordship. But I’m a timid person. I wouldn’t even dare to hire a killer, let alone kill someone myself. I’ve nothing to offer that would satisfy you or make it worth your risk.”
“Benevolence makes one invincible. You’re the first person I’ve met who willingly stretches out her neck for the knife. How did you survive this long in a harem full of deceit and intrigue?”
The sarcasm in his tone was impossible to ignore. Meng Guqing found his sharp, mocking manner unbearable, how could such a handsome youth manage to be so detestable? She couldn’t stop herself from snapping back, “Because Heaven has eyes. Good people die young, shouldn’t disasters last a thousand years? Twice now, Your Lordship has helped me deliver messages; that counts as a good deed. I’ll pray Heaven blesses you with a long life.”
“Twisted logic.” He paused, then sneered, “How touching.”
Apparently unsatisfied, his expression turned malicious again. “Do you know when I first killed someone? I was nine. You can’t imagine what it’s like to slice open someone’s throat yourself, to feel hot blood gush out like boiling water and soak your hands.”
Every hair on Meng Guqing’s back stood on end. To call him dangerous was an understatement, she wanted nothing more than to get as far from him as possible. Yet she thought again: what did a nine-year-old really understand? If one’s life were in danger, anyone might strike back. Judging from his brief appearances so far, he was reckless and lacked boundaries, but not entirely depraved. She knew nothing of his past, and it was foolish to pass judgment on a few words. So she only murmured an indifferent “Oh,” to show she wasn’t interested.
For some reason, she sensed that he wanted to see her reveal a darker side. People like that usually didn’t believe in human goodness; they were obsessive, brooding by nature. He fit that mold perfectly. Not wishing to provoke him, she also felt a natural urge to keep her distance, a gentleman does not stand beneath a crumbling wall. She was about to say something polite before leaving when he suddenly tapped his toe, spun lightly, and vanished into the bamboo grove beside the corridor.
The bamboo curtain soon lifted, and Fusang’s smiling face appeared. “Your Majesty, Wang Ning has returned, he says the Emperor is safe.”
According to Wang Ning, the Emperor had indeed been ambushed that day. The enemy had superior numbers and overwhelmed the guards. Zhao Donglin, caught off guard, was slightly injured and retreated with a few bodyguards to a riverbank. Seeing they were about to be surrounded, he leapt into the water and escaped. After being rescued, he didn’t dare reveal himself immediately; he rested for a day to tend his wounds before sneaking back to the Shanglin Palace. When he appeared openly before the Empress Dowager, he finally avoided the assassins lurking in the shadows.
The Empress Dowager, terrified, hurried back to the capital with the Emperor on the third day after the Double Ninth Festival. Once home, she summoned all the imperial physicians to treat him. Fortunately, his wounds were only minor cuts and gashes from cold steel, some inflamed due to poor treatment, but not life-threatening. When the Empress Dowager heard this, the heavy burden in her heart lifted; the tension she’d carried for days drained all at once. The moment she relaxed, she appeared suddenly aged and fainted on the spot, sending everyone into a panic as they rushed her back to Shoucheng Hall.
After visiting the Empress Dowager, Meng Guqing returned to the Imperial Hall. Zhao Donglin was sleeping soundly. In barely half a month, he had lost even more weight; the baby fat in his cheeks was gone, and his smooth, sharp profile exuded a quiet authority. Even asleep, there was a kind of inviolable majesty about him. Yet the faint upward curve of his lips and his relaxed brows softened that power into something like moonlit grace.
He seemed to have taken another step toward true imperial maturity. The reason wasn’t hard to guess. One of the chief criticisms from Jing Wang’s faction had always been that the current Emperor lived in luxury and enjoyed unearned peace. They submitted to his authority, but they didn’t respect him. This time, Zhao Donglin had proved himself completely. Though he hadn’t captured Prince Tatuo, in ten years he was the only one to have forced that man into a rout. With such an achievement, who would dare again say the Emperor couldn’t lead troops or understand the art of war?
He was slowly breaking apart the stone that had long weighed on his heart. Witnessing it all, Meng Guqing felt sincerely happy for him but amid that joy came a thread of unease. If the day came when Zhao Donglin completely severed ties with Jing Wang’s faction, what would become of her, the Empress of Donghu descent?
Lost in thought, she felt someone grasp her hand tightly. She looked up to meet a pair of clear, smiling eyes and exclaimed with surprise, “You’re awake?”
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