At the deepest end of the prison stood several stone-walled solitary cells, reserved for prisoners of noble rank.
The Eldest Princess, stripped of her jeweled ornaments, was confined in one of them.
Compared to ordinary cells, it was cleaner and more private, furnished with a stone bed, a table, and a chamber pot—but a prison was a prison, and even the cleanest of them could not compare to the glittering splendor of her former residence.
Princess Jinhua sat blankly by the cold stone bed. Her finely kept, slender nails dug so hard into her palms that two had already snapped.
She had been framed.
And the one who framed her—nine times out of ten—was Pei Shouzhen.
What a fine Pei Shouzhen indeed—usually appearing all calm and upright, pure as moonlight and noble as jade. Yet peel back that polished surface, and beneath it lies such a black heart and ruthless hand.
But she also knew that Pei Shouzhen alone could never have the ability to frame her for such a massive case of abducting respectable women.
He must have accomplices…
Consort Xian and her son? Yes—that must be it. Pei Shouzhen and Consort Xian’s mother-and-son pair were in it together. They must have joined hands to dump this filthy blame upon her.
Consort Xian… ha, Consort Xian!
Even if she were to die, she would drag that mother and son down to the Yellow Springs with her!
A dull crack sounded—she had snapped another nail lacquered in red cardamom polish.
It broke from the flesh, and blood immediately welled out.
Jinhua’s willow brows knitted, her eyelids twitching uncontrollably.
Suddenly, in the pitch-black night, came the sound of uneven footsteps.
She turned toward the noise, and heard the clinking of chains at the cell door. The heavy door creaked open, and two figures entered.
Both were cloaked in black robes, showing only their eyes.
Jinhua’s heart sank, but her bearing did not falter. “Who are you?”
The taller of the two inclined slightly toward the jailer and spoke, voice low, “You may leave.”
“Yes, madam,” the jailer said respectfully.
The cell door shut again. From that deliberately suppressed tone, Jinhua immediately recognized who the visitor was.
When Consort Xian and her trusted Momo removed their black hoods, revealing their faces, Jinhua laughed. “I knew you would come.”
Consort Xian stood quietly, her beautiful eyes calm and detached as she looked down at the frail figure on the cot.
Nearly thirty years of acquaintance, yet this was the first time she had ever seen the proud, untouchable Princess Jinhua reduced to such a pitiful state.
Feeling that cool, assessing gaze upon her, Jinhua’s face flushed pale, then livid. Like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, she hissed, “What, isn’t all of this your doing? Seeing me like this—are you pleased with yourself? Let me tell you, Yang Yilan, if I’m doomed, you won’t end well either!”
Consort Xian frowned at the madness in her eyes. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. You’ve come to this because of your own evil deeds. You have only yourself to blame. What does that have to do with me?”
“Keep pretending!” Jinhua spat at her. “Everyone praises you for your purity and virtue, but I know exactly what kind of creature you are. Hah, no wonder Pei Shouzhen threw his lot in with you and your son—you’re all the same, snakes and rats in the same nest! A pack of hypocrites, the lot of you!”
Her words were vile, and the old Momo at Consort Xian’s side could bear it no longer. “How dare you! Our lady’s good name will not be sullied by your filthy tongue!”
Jinhua shot her a cold glance. “Since when did slaves get to interrupt when I am speaking? Consort Xian, is this how you train your servants—to forget their place and defy their betters?”
Once, Consort Xian might have reprimanded her maid.
But now was not like before. She only waved her hand. “Lay out the food. Don’t speak again.”
Then, turning back to Jinhua, her expression steady, she said, “You have committed a heinous crime. His Majesty is furious, the ministers are outraged, and even the people of Chang’an cry out for justice. His Majesty has already ordered the Three Judicial Offices to handle your case. Once the evidence is confirmed, by the laws of Great Liang, your titles will be stripped, your name erased from the royal registry, and your entire clan executed. Jinhua, as a common criminal now, you are no higher than my maid—so what talk is there of rank and propriety?”
“Yang Yilan, how dare you treat me like this!” Jinhua’s eyes reddened as she glared at her. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll expose what you’ve done—drag you down with me into ruin and leave you with no grave to rest in?”
Consort Xian’s eyes narrowed slightly. So—she meant to threaten her with a secret.
But what secret, exactly?
She smoothed her brow and said quietly, “You mean to threaten me with Shouan? Then you’re making a grave mistake—utter foolishness.”
“The evil things you made her do—she has confessed all to me. I’ve already removed my hairpin and begged His Majesty for punishment, admitting my failure to raise her properly. Yes, she is my daughter. But she was so easily led by you, time and again, her heart turning as vile as yours. Such a daughter—I would rather cast her off.”
“If you think you can use her against me, go ahead. At worst, Shouan dies—but my reputation, and that of my son Jin’er, will remain unblemished.”
Her tone was tragic yet resolute, like one cutting off her own arm to survive.
Jinhua, however, only gave a low, mocking laugh. “Who said I meant to threaten you with Shouan? That useless piece was never worth playing. When she did that disgraceful thing at the start of the year, I was already laughing at you—for being soft-hearted, for pitying her. And laughing at Pei Shouzhen, that weak fool—he knew Shouan had tried to harm his wife and child, yet he still swallowed his rage and continued serving you both. Hah, these scholars—so stubborn, so stupid their books have rotted their brains…”
At that, Consort Xian’s lips pressed into a tight line.
So Jinhua did have some leverage unknown to her.
Composing herself, she asked evenly, “Other than Shouan, what else do you have to bargain with?”
“Oh, now don’t make it sound so ugly—‘bargain,’ really? I only wish to make a deal.”
Jinhua raised a trembling hand to smooth her hair, then straightened her back. Looking at Consort Xian, a rare trace of sincerity flickered in her long eyes.
“To tell you the truth—among all the women in my royal brother’s harem, if I had to choose one I could tolerate, it would be you. You have patience, strategy, and depth—and you raised a fine son. If you and your boy are the ones to laugh in the end, I could still live in peace. Not like that vile Consort Shu and her spawn. That woman bore a wolf-hearted demon—if he ascends the throne, I doubt I’d live long at all.”
The Third Prince had always looked down on women, and toward someone as wanton and unruly as Princess Jinhua, he’d long harbored resentment.
Once, drunk among his soldiers, he had declared that whether princess or noble-born lady, women of the royal clan ought to diligently study the virtues and precepts of womanhood, so as to become paragons for all women under heaven.
He had all but named Jinhua directly—calling her unchaste, insolent, and debauched.
To this, Jinhua had only thought: the Third Prince must be sick in the head. They were all of imperial blood—if princes and lords could freely indulge in women, then surely princesses and duchesses should have the right to amuse themselves with men.
Besides, she wasn’t stealing his women, so why should he care? Truly, a brain disease.
“Consort Xian,” Jinhua said now, fixing her with a steady gaze, “you know very well that the trafficking of good women has nothing to do with me. It was Pei Shouzhen, using his office for personal revenge, who deliberately framed and slandered me. I know you intend to give him an explanation, but I ask for nothing else—only that you spare my life. If you do, that matter from back then will rot in my stomach forever. I will never let my imperial brother know.”
Consort Xian’s eyes darkened. “What matter do you refer to?”
Jinhua did not answer. She merely flicked a glance at the old momo standing beside her.
“She is my most trusted servant,” Consort Xian said coolly. “There is nothing you cannot say before her.”
Since she had said so, Jinhua no longer concealed it. A trace of triumph lifted her brows as she looked at her.
“In the twenty-first year of Tiansheng,” she said slowly, “on the day Fang Shujing gave birth—you arranged for a stillborn infant and secretly exchanged it for her son.”
As her words fell, she caught the sudden change in Consort Xian’s expression, and her smile widened, confident and gloating.
“That day, I happened to be out of the palace for some leisure. Toward dusk, seeing the clouds gathering and rain about to fall, I stopped by my imperial brother’s residence to stay the night. And quite by chance, I saw one of your maids sneaking in through the back gate with a basket in hand.”
At that time, Emperor Zhaoning had not yet ascended the throne—he was still Rui Wang, his residence located at the east end of Chongren Ward.
Jinhua had found the maid’s behavior suspicious and had looked twice, but asked nothing more. After all, what happened in Rui Wang’s residence was no business of hers—she had never been one to meddle.
It was only later that night when Fang Shujing went into labor. Rui Wang himself was attending the late emperor and not in residence.
Curious to watch the spectacle, Jinhua went to the princess consort’s quarters. But not long after, she was politely sent away by Side Consort Yang, who said, “The birthing chamber is no place for an unmarried lady.”
Still, Jinhua wanted to know whether Fang Shujing’s labor went well—whether the child was a boy or girl.
As thunder rolled across the sky, she had thought to herself that it wouldn’t be so bad if Fang Shujing simply died in childbirth.
No, perhaps better that she live—better that she and Sima Duan bear seven, eight, nine, ten children together. The more she bore, the more miserable Brother Jinghuai would be.
Why should she alone suffer the agony of loving and being unable to have?
Though she secretly loved Sima Yi, that didn’t stop her from wanting him to taste the same torment of affection—to suffer the same pain she did.
So she hadn’t left the grounds. She’d hidden under the eaves near the courtyard.
And then she saw that same maid with the basket, hurrying into the consort’s quarters under cover of night—only to emerge soon after with the same basket.
Jinhua had sensed something was off, but being still young, she hadn’t thought much of it.
Until half an hour later, when the dreadful news spread: “The princess consort has delivered a stillborn child.”
Then it all clicked. She realized what had been in that basket.
Later, watching Fang Shujing sink into melancholy and tears, Jinhua had felt a secret thrill of satisfaction.
How foolish, she’d thought with cruel delight. That woman had trusted Side Consort Yang so deeply, never knowing her “good sister” had switched her baby while she gave birth.
Years had passed since then, and even though Fang Shujing had long turned to dust, whenever Jinhua recalled her weeping as she cradled her dead infant, she still felt a vicious pleasure in her heart.
Consort Xian’s chest sank heavily.
Never had she imagined that Jinhua would have stumbled upon that day.
But the truth was utterly different from what Jinhua believed. The one who had asked her to find a stillborn and make the exchange—had been Fang Shujing herself.
Back then, Yang Yilan hadn’t understood why Sister Fang wanted to do such a thing.
But Fang Shujing had gripped her hand, eyes bright with tears, and pleaded bitterly: “Yilan, only you can help me in this household. I beg you—just this once, help me.”
Yang Yilan had been unable to refuse.
After all, Fang Shujing had been such a kind person.
She had treated her like a sister, treated her son Jin’er as her own. Whenever the other side consorts bullied her, Fang Shujing had always spoken up on her behalf.
A heart is made of flesh—Yang Yilan remembered every kindness Fang Shujing had shown. They had supported each other, trusted each other.
So though she didn’t understand why Fang Shujing made such a request, she had agreed to help.
She thought—perhaps Wangye and Wangfei had quarreled, and Wangfei meant to use this as revenge?
Wangfei had been confined to the inner court, listless and joyless for a long time.
They had chosen a day when Wangye was away, given her medicine to induce labor, and smuggled a dead infant bought from a midwife into the residence. Thus they staged the substitution.
Wangfei “delivered early,” and the “difficult birth” explained the child’s death perfectly.
Everything had gone flawlessly—except for one thing.
The baby that was carried out of the residence had vanished.
The child had been taken by the maid Zhu Mo, meant to be left with a farming family outside the city.
But Zhu Mo and the baby both disappeared. The last trace was by the river—a hairpin found half-buried in the mud.
“…Was it you who sent people to kill that child?”
Consort Xian’s eyelids twitched violently. She leaned close to Jinhua, voice sharp with fury. “Speak!”
Jinhua startled at her sudden outburst, frowning. “What are you raving about? Why would I kill that child? If anyone had reason to kill, it would be you.”
As she spoke, she suddenly realized something was amiss. Her gaze turned puzzled toward Consort Xian. “Don’t tell me… you went soft back then and actually spared that child’s life?”
Consort Xian didn’t answer. She only stared deeply at Jinhua for a long moment. Seeing that Jinhua’s expression showed no trace of deceit, her heart sank further.
If it wasn’t Jinhua, then who could it have been…?
Could Zhu Mo have really fallen into the river by accident? Or had that girl harbored treacherous thoughts?
In any case—no matter the reason—
Consort Xian’s gaze sharpened, a flicker of killing intent passing through her eyes as she stared at the woman before her. Jinhua could not be allowed to live.
Straightening up, she smiled apologetically. “Forgive me, I lost my composure. I simply hadn’t expected that after all these years, there would still be a third person who knew.”
As she spoke, Consort Xian gracefully took a seat at the table and gestured to the spread of food and wine before them. “You’ve been confined here day after day—you must be hungry. Come, have something to eat.”
Jinhua glanced over the table of dishes, her eyes flickering slightly, but she did not move.
“What’s this? Afraid I’ve poisoned it?”
Consort Xian smiled. “You think I could visit you at this hour without His Majesty knowing? If you were to die in this cell, I would be the first to take the blame. I’m not so foolish as to lift a stone only to drop it on my own foot.”
At that, the tension in Jinhua’s chest loosened.
Indeed—at this late hour, without the Emperor’s permission, Consort Xian would not have been able to leave the palace, much less enter the Ministry of Justice’s prison.
Jinhua rose and walked to the table.
The prison food was barely edible; she had eaten scarcely a few grains of rice that day.
Now, faced with the fragrant and colorful imperial dishes before her, hunger clawed at her belly. She picked up her chopsticks and lifted a glistening, ruby-red piece of cherry-glazed pork to her mouth.
Consort Xian sat opposite her, pouring wine into her cup, and began to speak slowly of the past, bringing up old details and memories.
Seeing her so solicitous, Jinhua knew her leverage had indeed taken hold—
Even though Emperor Zhaoning disliked Fang Shujing, that didn’t mean he could tolerate a concubine who had harmed his offspring.
Besides—did Zhaoning truly dislike Fang Shujing?
A trace of mockery crossed Jinhua’s eyes. He simply disliked that Fang Shujing’s heart had never belonged to him.
For a time, the prison cell was filled with their idle talk, the two women seated face to face, seemingly as close as sisters-in-law reminiscing about bygone days.
Finally, Consort Xian asked, “This matter of the child-swapping—have you told anyone else?”
Jinhua looked at her and smiled faintly, her meaning veiled. “One must always keep a card up one’s sleeve… in case you decide to wipe me out completely.”
For a moment, Consort Xian’s eyes froze.
Jinhua smiled. “No need to be so tense. As long as I’m alive, this secret won’t reach my royal brother’s ears.”
Consort Xian fell silent. The handkerchief resting on her knees twisted tightly, loosened, and then twisted again.
Then came a sudden crash—“clang!”—the sound of a bowl and chopsticks hitting the ground.
Consort Xian looked up to see Jinhua clutching her throat, her eyes wide, blood spilling from her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.
She stared at Consort Xian, her voice hoarse and incredulous. “You… you… how dare you—”
Consort Xian frowned, her brows drawn together, her expression complicated. “It was His Majesty’s order.”
A flicker of confusion crossed Jinhua’s face.
Consort Xian continued, “Before coming here, I met with His Majesty and truthfully reported your manipulation of Shouan into harming others. I also told him you might try to threaten me with it.”
Emperor Zhaoning had pondered for a moment, then said, “Shouan’s marriage to Nanzhao is at hand. The royal family already bears the shame of one sinful princess—if another should arise, the imperial bloodline would be utterly disgraced. Give her a cup of wine. Let her die with her mouth shut.”
And so, Consort Xian brought food and wine, coming here as the executioner.
Without question, she too wanted Jinhua dead.
Had it not been for this venomous woman’s instigation, Shouan—foolish though she was—would never have fallen so low, despised by all.
But Jinhua had mentioned a “last resort”…
Who had she entrusted that old secret to? One of her four romantic attendants? Or perhaps a loyal maidservant?
Consort Xian thought for a moment, then looked at her and said, “Tell me—what is your last card? I can grant you one final wish.”
Blood filled Jinhua’s eyes. Clutching her searing, torn chest, she collapsed onto the table, laughing bitterly. “What wish could I possibly have left… what wish…?”
“Sima Yi?” Consort Xian asked quietly.
Jinhua’s smile froze for an instant.
“You and I share no real enmity,” Consort Xian went on. “The one ordering your death is the Emperor. Why make things difficult for me? If you speak honestly, I can see to your burial—give you a grand funeral. Or perhaps…”
She leaned close, whispering in Jinhua’s ear, “When my son ascends the throne, I’ll have him clear your name—restore your title as Eldest Princess. Or, when Yan Wang returns to the capital someday, I’ll have him light three sticks of incense for you?”
A flicker of hesitation passed through Jinhua’s eyes—but it quickly drowned in agony. Coughing blood, she clutched her abdomen and rolled on the floor, laughing hysterically through her pain. “I’m dying—what do I care for such things? Yang Yilan, don’t think I don’t see through your schemes. Even in death, I’ll drag you all down with me—none of you will have peace! None of you!”
The softness in Consort Xian’s eyes instantly vanished.
So much for the saying that a dying man’s words are kind—such nonsense had no effect on a lunatic like Jinhua.
“In that case, so be it,” she said coldly. “Even if you had agreed, I wouldn’t know how to persuade Yan Wang to offer you incense. After all…”
She slowly rose, gazing down at the convulsing woman on the ground, her lips curling into an icy smile.
“To him, you were so loathsome—so utterly repulsive—that he chose to guard the northern frontier for twenty years rather than return to the capital for a single day.”
“You lie—lies, all of it!” Jinhua screamed hoarsely.
“You know very well whether I’m lying or not.”
Consort Xian temporarily pressed down the unease in her heart, leisurely admiring Jinhua’s retribution, a dark satisfaction rising within her. “Sima Ying, lunatics like you were never worthy of love.”
Perhaps once, she had been loved—Princess Consort Guo had truly, sincerely loved her. But she had killed him with her own hands, wiping out his entire clan.
That year’s Rebellion of Jing Wang—Jing Wang’s entire branch, the Fang family, the Guo family—all had perished miserably.
The Crown Prince’s wings were broken as well, leaving him a cripple in all but name.
As these thoughts swirled, a sudden rush of footsteps sounded outside.
“Lord Pei—!”
“Lord Pei, you mustn’t go in—!”
But the door was already pushed open.
A man in a dark robe—Pei Xia—stood at the threshold. Seeing the scene in the prison cell, his face instantly darkened. “Consort Xian, what is the meaning of this?”
Consort Xian frowned slightly, just about to speak, when Jinhua, blood spilling from her mouth, burst into wild laughter. “Pei Shouzhen, oh Pei Shouzhen, you coward, you hypocrite! Shouan tried again and again to harm your wife and child, and you still serve that harlot and her son loyally. You truly are… cough… magnanimous!”
Pei Xia’s gaze dimmed, his eyes unreadable.
Consort Xian’s face turned unpleasant at once. “Vile woman—on the brink of death and still sowing discord!”
Fearing Jinhua might blurt out something else, Consort Xian shot a look at her old nurse.
The Momo understood immediately, stepping forward to gag Jinhua’s mouth.
Blood welled up from Jinhua’s chest in great gushes, but unable to spit it out, it flooded back into her throat, choking her.
Before their eyes, her face turned redder and redder, her body curling tighter and tighter—until at last she went still, frozen, a lifeless corpse.
From her sleeve, Consort Xian drew a confession document and handed it to the Momo.
The Momo pressed Jinhua’s bloodstained hand to the paper, leaving a crimson handprint, then passed the confession back.
Consort Xian didn’t take it right away. Instead, she looked at Pei Xia. “Would Master Pei care to review it?”
Pei Xia cast a cold glance over it, his tone deep and restrained. “Niang Niang, what has happened here?”
Consort Xian said bluntly, “His Majesty ordered her death.”
Seeing his furrowed brow, she repeated the explanation, recounting the Emperor’s command. When she finished, she tucked the confession into her sleeve and approached Pei Xia, bowing deeply.
Pei Xia took a half step back. “Niang Niang, this is too much honor for a humble servant like me.”
Still holding her bow, Consort Xian said, “A child unrestrained is the mother’s fault. I am Shouan’s birth mother, yet failed to guide her, letting her grow malicious and commit evil again and again. I am ashamed. This bow—you deserve it.”
Pei Xia’s breathing deepened, but he said nothing.
“I know too that Shouan’s crimes are grave, deserving death and no less. But her marriage alliance with Nanzhao is imminent. His Majesty does not wish for any scandal at such a time. I beg you, for the sake of the greater good, allow her a little more time…”
Seeing the darkness clouding Pei Xia’s expression—and recalling Jinhua’s final words—Consort Xian clenched her jaw. She could no longer afford a woman’s softness.
“Three years,” she rasped. “Let her live three more years. After that, there will be no Princess Shouan in this world. Pei Shouzhen—let her life be the price for your loyalty to my son, Jin’er. Will that suffice?”
Pei Xia remained silent.
Consort Xian’s voice grew anxious. “If you insist on her paying now with her life, never mind the chaos it will cause between Nanzhao and our court—you will surely lose His Majesty’s favor as well. You know how he prizes his reputation. Why else would he silence Jinhua—his own sister—with poison?”
“I know you are angry. But if you act rashly and forfeit His Majesty’s trust—what will become of your bright future? Your family’s peace and prosperity? The standing of your Pei clan?”
Consort Xian fixed her gaze on him. “Pei Shouzhen, you have always been calm and rational. Do not lose your head over this and bring disaster upon yourself.”
If he truly defied her now, she thought grimly, then he would be of no further use.
A long silence followed. Finally, Pei Xia lifted his eyelids slightly, his voice cold and distant. “If three years from now Niang Niang breaks your word, then forgive me—this servant will no longer serve the Second Prince.”
A flicker passed through Consort Xian’s eyes, then she nodded. “Very well. I promise you.”
Pei Xia raised his sleeve and bowed.
His peripheral glance fell upon the corpse of Eldest Princess Jinhua. “It’s late. Niang Niang should return to the palace. I will see to matters here.”
Consort Xian looked one last time at the lifeless body and sighed softly. “I leave it in your hands.”
She pulled up her hood once more and departed with her Momo.
Pei Xia stood silently by the doorway, gazing down at the woman who had died with her eyes wide open.
The dim candlelight cast a slanted glow across his face, half-lit, half-shadowed. In the depths of his long, narrow eyes surged a darkness so thick it seemed impossible to dissolve.
Want to show your support? Go donate at Paypal or Ko-fi to show your appreciation! Want to read 5 extra chapters in advance? Go to my Patreon to join now! :)
