Half an hour later, the carriage drove directly into the Imperial Grandson’s residence through a side gate. When Zhao Shu was helped down from the carriage, still dressed in those same soaked clothes and staggering unsteadily, Ying Wuji’s face instantly darkened.
He was just about to mock her when she suddenly broke into a violent fit of coughing. Only after swaying for a moment did she manage to raise her head and glance at him. On her palm-sized, porcelain-white face, even the flower-petal color of her lips had faded. She had only just opened her mouth to speak when her legs buckled, and she dropped heavily onto the ground beside the carriage wheel.
The young attendant supporting her failed to catch her and immediately collapsed to the ground in panic.
Watching from a distance, Ying Wuji suddenly let out an extremely cold, mocking laugh. Yet the words he spoke were directed at the attendant. “Get up. He’s nothing more than a hostage slave, not even worth as much as you. Have the steward come arrange things shortly.”
With that, his figure disappeared beyond the courtyard gate.
The lanterns had just been lit, and the sky was turning dark.
Once he left, only a few young attendants and the carriage driver remained, all of them exchanging uncertain glances.
The driver had personally witnessed his master carrying this noble captive into the carriage earlier. Now, seeing his master’s attitude change so abruptly, he sensed something unusual. He merely nodded at the attendants before silently departing without another word.
One attendant, seeing Zhao Shu barely able to stand while wrapped in her soaked clothes, felt a pang of sympathy and was about to help her into the courtyard to wait.
An older attendant immediately stopped him. His face stern, he snapped, “Didn’t His Highness say to wait for the steward to make arrangements? Must you always meddle?”
With that, none of them paid her any further attention. They simply left together.
Only after Zhao Shu staggered beneath the covered corridor, wrapping her arms around herself as she leaned against a pillar for support, did she faintly hear someone in the distance saying, “One word from a noble can cost you your life. Just because our master is known for being benevolent, you think you can interfere in a noble’s affairs?”
Their voices gradually faded away. Looking around, Zhao Shu realized she was in a secluded courtyard beside the water.
It was not a place meant for living. Instead, a pavilion had been built over the water. By the faint glow of distant lanterns, she could just make out its elegant and unusual design. Though tucked away in a remote corner, it had clearly been built with exquisite care.
There was no one around. The place was quiet and picturesque. Zhao Shu had no mind to admire the scenery. She only regretted not having remembered to ask the carriage driver to leave her a change of clothes.
Swaying unsteadily, she made her way toward the waterside pavilion. But when she reached the bronze door ring and felt around for it, she discovered that the pavilion had been locked.
Exhausted, she sank onto the icy brick floor. The sores on her feet, which had only just begun to heal, started aching again. Water spread across the bricks beneath her, and when she wrung out the hem of her robe, she vaguely felt as though parts of it had already begun to freeze.
Her stomach was completely empty, and the hour for dinner had long since passed. She could not help giving a bitter smile. Resting her head against the corridor pillar, she stared absentmindedly at the withered vines creeping over the low wall ahead.
She could not help wondering what she would have been doing on a winter night like this in the past.
She would have been in the Zhao royal palace, leisurely picking through the delicacies prepared by the imperial kitchen.
Or perhaps watching beautiful courtesans sing and perform in the pleasure houses of Handan.
Or perhaps at her elder brother’s residence, pretending to study while actually finding excuses to cling to him.
Or perhaps… soaking in the hot springs at the palace in Hot Spring Valley with Qi Ying, listening to music while Qi Ying chattered endlessly about which young nobleman was the most handsome.
The moment she thought of Qi Ying, her delicate brows drew tightly together, and her heart clenched painfully.
Even now, she still can’t believe that her father would want her dead.
Even though she personally witnessed her royal father pressing the seal on the handkerchief bearing the city’s surrender, his face covered in mud; she believed that her father had a son and would establish another dynasty, but she did not believe that her father would want her dead.
It was not because of any deep affection between father and daughter. Rather, she carried within her a forbidden secret so shocking that it could never be revealed. Her life was inextricably bound to Zhao Wang’s. This secret was even more closely guarded than her disguise as a man. Aside from one elderly imperial physician, there was not another soul in the world who knew of it.
But her situation now… was indeed exactly as it appeared. Here in Qin, she had narrowly escaped death again and again. Her life was as insignificant as that of an ant, with no one to rely upon.
How laughable it truly was. Counting the matter of the silk letter, she had been in Xianyang for only five days, yet that man had already saved her life three times.
“Young Master, why not try begging me?”
She hurriedly shook her foggy head, driving away those infuriating words, spoken as though a cat were toying with a mouse.
Yet before her eyes again appeared that man’s burning gaze and smug expression. She had suffered so greatly that even her pride had been worn away.
She unconsciously clenched her fingers, crushing the icy frost that had gathered upon her knees.
At the very least, this man did not want to kill her. Perhaps… perhaps she could lower her head for now, protect Yingying first, and think about everything else later.
***
A quarter of an hour later, the steward had still not come. Instead, the neighing of horses sounded beyond the outer wall.
The moment the side gate opened, the lifeless expression on Zhao Shu’s face instantly brightened.
“My master ordered me to bring the young lady here. I had to go to the Grand Tutor’s residence first, so I was delayed on the way.” Cheng Wu wore a radiant smile, as though he had not noticed Zhao Shu’s miserable condition at all.
Qi Ying, however, was entirely different. The young girl was timid and spoke indistinctly. The moment she saw Zhao Shu’s face, frozen until it had turned bluish, she continuously rubbed Zhao Shu’s pale fingers. Not mindful of the cold herself, she kept trying to wrap Zhao Shu in a tight embrace.
Though Zhao Shu was both surprised and overjoyed to see her, she feared Qi Ying would catch a cold. Again and again, she weakly pushed her away.
Seeing that Zhao Shu no longer even had the strength to speak, and noticing the fresh wounds that now marked her body, Qi Ying became so distressed that she burst into tears.
Even Cheng Wu, a worldly and slippery man whom neither flattery nor intimidation could sway, found himself unable to continue with polite formalities after witnessing the scene.
“It’s already the Hour of Xu. I still have to hurry into the palace to attend His Majesty. Young lady, you’ve already seen the Crown Prince. In a moment, simply follow Shen Momo, and she’ll settle you in.”
The two young women naturally assumed they would be accommodated together. Only when Steward Li hurried over afterward, carrying bedding and daily necessities while repeatedly apologizing, did they realize they were to be housed separately.
Qi Ying immediately grabbed hold of Cheng Wu in confusion. Without drawing attention to it, Cheng Wu quietly stepped back half a pace and gestured for an elderly Momo to come forward. “There must be proper separation between men and women. Please forgive us, Crown Prince Zhao.”
Zhao Shu froze for a moment. Once she understood, she immediately nodded her thanks. Gratitude quietly flickered across her pale, delicate face. Cheng Wu dared not look any longer. Entrusting everything here to the steward, he departed directly for the palace.
After comforting Qi Ying and seeing her off, Zhao Shu followed the stout steward, who was well past fifty years of age, for nearly another quarter of an hour.
They passed the shores of a vast lake bordered with withered willows, crossed an enormous main courtyard, wound through endless covered corridors and connecting walkways, passed scattered pavilions and towers, and crossed a lofty rainbow bridge.
She could clearly tell that they were walking farther and farther into the most secluded part of the estate.
The last time she had come here, she had been completely consumed by fear and helplessness as a captive in a foreign land among enemies. She had never taken a proper look at the prince’s residence.
Tonight, however, the freezing cold had sharpened her senses.
She could see just how many magnificent buildings filled the estate, how exquisitely designed every corner was. Yet she also noticed that most of the courtyards were locked, empty, and desolate, with only armored patrols walking their rounds.
At last, the two of them stopped before an imposing courtyard situated in the northwestern corner of the residence.
Above the entrance was a plaque engraved with the two vigorous, elegant characters:
Lantai.
Lantai was surrounded by water on three sides. The courtyard itself consisted of four successive compounds, with streams diverted from the lake winding gently through the grounds. Though the estate was expansive, most of it was filled with bamboo groves and lush vegetation, while the actual living quarters were surprisingly few.
The most eye-catching feature of the entire courtyard was the small island in the center of the lake.
Upon it stood a three-story circular pavilion crowned with an octagonal treasure-shaped roof. Even before entering the courtyard, one could already see it towering in the distance.
The pavilion’s elaborate carvings and intricate bracket work were immediately apparent. Judging from its architecture alone, it was unmistakably built in the exotic style of the Northern Hu.
Despite the courtyard’s immense size, as Zhao Shu followed the steward inside, the only people she encountered were two young maidservants beneath the corridor of the western wing in the outermost courtyard, laughing as they played a drinking game while laying out dinner.
Both girls appeared to be no more than eleven or twelve years old. It was obvious they were usually left unsupervised. The instant they saw the steward approaching, they hastily threw down their bowls and hurried over to pay their respects.
Steward Li gave the pair a thoughtful glance before waving them away. Then he led Zhao Shu toward the area behind the kitchen.
“I must beg Your Grace’s forgiveness,” Steward Li said, bowing deeply with an ingratiating smile. Behind him stood a damp, filthy woodshed that smelled strongly of mildew. “I’m only carrying out orders from above. This thick quilt is one I secretly brought from my own home. I truly hope Your Grace will bear with these poor accommodations.”
His humble, cautious manner seemed strangely out of place before such a filthy, dark woodshed.
“There’s no need for the steward to trouble himself so greatly…” Zhao Shu lacked the strength to think much further. Upon seeing that a bronze brazier had already been lit inside the woodshed, she felt touched by the steward’s kindness and instinctively reached for an Eastern Pearl to offer him in thanks.
Her wrist, however, was bare. The red cord she had once worn was gone. Her hand froze in midair. Embarrassed, she lowered her eyes in disappointment, and the words of gratitude lodged in her throat.
Steward Li was a shrewd man. After being assigned this troublesome task, he had deliberately delayed coming until Cheng Wu returned, first making sure to ask everything clearly.
Now, seeing the young prince’s pitiful state, his entire body chilled to the bone, he could not help feeling a measure of sympathy. Pretending not to notice the awkward moment, he simply urged Zhao Shu to hurry and change into dry clothes and get some rest. Someone would bring food later.
Before leaving, Steward Li hesitated for a moment before quietly offering a piece of advice. “My master suffered greatly in his youth. There isn’t a single relative left in this entire residence. Lord Shaofu once said… if Your Grace… were willing to speak a few gentle words to him, perhaps it might ease some of the loneliness he carries.”
Cheng Wu, having earned His Majesty’s favor, was currently serving as Substitute Shaofu.
The meaning behind Steward Li’s words was rather muddled. Zhao Shu listened in confusion. Eager to shut the door and change her clothes, she gave the matter little further thought.
Once everyone had left, she borrowed the dim light of the oil lamp. Ignoring the dirt and grime, dragging her battered, freezing body behind her, she carefully picked the twigs and coarse stalks out of the straw, piling them beneath the window into a makeshift bed just wide enough for one person and only half a palm thick.
She shook out the quilt the steward had provided and discovered that it was made of wool felt.
Carefully spreading it flat over the straw mattress, she repeatedly confirmed that no one was outside and that both the doors and windows were securely closed before finally reaching to untie her sash.
The clothes the steward had left her were all slightly too large. Though the robes were made from coarse, plain cloth, they were wonderfully warm. The chest binding beneath them, however, was completely soaked, and there was no replacement.
Fortunately, there were several sets of clothing. She took the finest one, tore it into long strips with all her strength, and managed to fashion something that would at least serve its purpose.
After finishing all of that, she curled up beneath the covers. Hugging the quilt tightly at last gave her a faint sense of warmth. She had only just managed to warm herself enough to drift off when someone knocked on the door to deliver food. Bracing herself, she forced herself up to receive it, only to discover that the person bringing the meal was a different young servant rather than the two maidservants from before.
The rest of the night passed quietly. Sleeping atop the old quilt spread over the straw, she almost immediately fell into a deathlike slumber. But in the latter half of the night, a high fever overtook her, and countless nightmares tumbled one into another.
One moment, it was late spring. She was riding her horse through the mountain paths, chasing after her elder brother while her father, Zhao Wang, slept soundly in the royal carriage behind them.
The next, she saw Qi Ying smiling with her usual innocent foolishness, yet a sword rested against her neck. No matter how hard she tried, she could never make out the face of the person standing behind her.
She even dreamed that her royal mother had never died of illness. In the dream, she said she had merely been imprisoned for twelve years by an immortal from beyond the seas and had only now returned.
Her mind was trapped within the nightmare, and throughout the second half of the night she repeatedly cried herself awake.
She was nothing more than discarded refuse.
The glory, power, and splendor of Handan no longer had anything whatsoever to do with her.
***
The following morning, when the attendants came once again to deliver breakfast, she opened her eyes to the hazy daylight filtering through the window. Her mind was already muddled with fever, and an overwhelming illusion of impending death gripped her heart.
…
After a flurry of chaos, summoning a physician and forcing medicine down her throat, she awoke once more at dusk.
Above her hung pale blue gauze curtains, soft as drifting clouds and rosy mists. Beneath her fingertips was the familiar yet distant sensation of smooth silk. To one side, the diamond-paned window stood crystal clear, where the rare glow of a winter sunset slanted into the room.
She could hear an elderly physician speaking nearby, seemingly discussing the state of her illness.
Among the six gentlemanly arts, she knew nothing of archery, charioteering, writing, or mathematics.
Only medicine and acupuncture had she studied well enough to become somewhat proficient.
Yet physicians cannot heal themselves. Listening now to the old doctor’s diagnosis, the more she heard, the more alarmed she became.
Only then did she realize that her body had long since reached its limit. Ever since the Battle of Pingcheng four months earlier, for more than one hundred and twenty days, she had been cast from the carefree splendor of palace halls into the inferno of war and ruin, falling from the clouds, watching her kingdom collapse, enduring displacement, humiliation, and suffering…
Had that attendant not come this morning, she might truly not have survived this ordeal.
Nearby, she heard Qi Ying asking the elderly physician one completely mismatched question after another.
She coughed heavily and was just struggling to sit up when…
“Everyone, leave.” A familiar voice sounded from beyond the bed curtains, cold and indifferent.
The steward’s words from the previous night suddenly resurfaced in her mind. As the man lifted the curtain and approached, Zhao Shu could no longer concern herself with anything else. Summoning every last bit of strength, she stretched one hand out from beneath the covers.
She saw her own fingers, slender, pale, and frighteningly thin, as they weakly grasped the sleeve embroidered with dark patterns upon his black robe. Then she heard herself speak to the man she had once despised and bullied. “Ying… Changsheng… I was childish… it was because of my foolishness… that I harmed… harmed your mother.”
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