Her mind kept replaying Wu Lang’s panicked eyes. He had knelt before her, pleading humbly not to tell Xue Qingzhi about his fever—as if falling ill were an unforgivable sin.
She couldn’t imagine how Xue Qingzhi treated him in her absence. Why else would a perfectly healthy young man become so timid and cautious?
Xue Yunyi turned onto her side, her thoughts restless. The boy was young and strong; a good night’s sleep and some sweat should see him through by morning.
The rain fell steadily through the entire night. It began as a gentle drizzle but had turned into a downpour by dawn, drenching the flowers and plants in the courtyard until they bent crookedly.
With the roads turned to mud, the painting session had to be postponed. She had thought the rain would stop after an hour or two, but it dragged on endlessly, lasting a full two days without letting up.
Painting required a single unbroken flow of inspiration, and Xue Yunyi didn’t want to lose her touch. She spread the unfinished painting across the long table, ground a dish of thick ink, and began refining the details.
Mo Ying entered with a cup of tea when the shrill voice of the eunuch chief Li Fuzhong suddenly rang out from beyond the hall.
“His Majesty arrives!”
Mo Ying jumped in fright, and the palace maids were equally stunned. They quickly came to their senses and knelt in a rush to pay their respects.
The Emperor’s visits to Azure Cypress Palace could be counted on one hand. Even after Xue Yunyi had become crippled, he had never once come to see her. For him to appear today was like the sun rising in the west.
Li Fuzhong bowed low and respectfully ushered the Emperor into the hall.
Xue Yunyi set down her brush and gazed at the man before her, clad in his dragon robe and radiating stern authority. To her surprise, her heart remained utterly calm.
“This son offers greetings to Father Emperor. I beg Father Emperor’s forgiveness for being unable to rise and perform the proper rites.”
The last time she had seen the Emperor was at Empress Jiang’s bedside. Though only a few months had passed, it felt like a lifetime.
The Emperor… seemed to have aged greatly. But of course, it had nothing to do with the Empress’s illness. Recently, Lang Province had suffered a terrible drought. The people had harvested nothing and taken to the streets begging, while bandits seized the chaos to pillage and kill, spreading terror far and wide. This disaster was more dire than the one from over a decade ago, with memorials flooding the Imperial Study and piling up on the desks.
She noted the dark circles under his eyes and the blue stubble on his jaw. “Does Father Emperor have some matter to discuss?”
The Emperor glanced at the plain silk gown draped over Xue Yunyi’s body and frowned in displeasure.
“Next month is Qingzhi’s investiture ceremony. The entire palace is decked out in celebration, yet you wear white every day, as if determined to bring bad luck!”
Xue Yunyi smiled faintly. “As her husband, Father Emperor, if you do not observe mourning for your lawful wife, won’t the people of the realm gossip that you are an unrighteous sovereign?”
Mo Ying’s heart pounded in terror. The palace maids knelt in a huddled mass, all holding their breath. Even Li Fuzhong couldn’t help wiping sweat from his brow.
The Emperor’s voice deepened coldly. “The Empress is merely ill. There is no question of mourning.”
His gaze sharpened as it swept over the wheelchair beneath Xue Yunyi. At times, he even felt a spark of relief that her legs were crippled; otherwise, he had no doubt she would find a way to flee the palace and inform her uncle in Chilly Province of Empress Jiang’s death.
Xue Yunyi did not argue with him. She simply watched him quietly.
After a moment of silence, the Emperor’s tone softened somewhat. “Zhen heard that you took a step-shake hairpin from Qingzhi. She adores pearls—you know that full well. Why insist on taking something she loves? Those pearls on the hairpin are rare; there are only sixteen in total.”
He paused, then commanded, “Have someone return it to Qingzhi. You may choose any piece from the Imperial Jewelry Bureau.”
Xue Yunyi found it amusing. “So Father Emperor came today to demand it back on behalf of my little sister?”
The Emperor’s expression darkened, but he nodded. Yesterday, Qingzhi had wheedled and fawned over him, saying she had given away the hairpin in a moment of softness but regretted it now. She feared losing face if Xue Yunyi refused to return it, so she had come begging to him.
“It’s just one hairpin. Why make such a fuss with your sister? As the elder sister, you should be magnanimous.”
“That hairpin was given to me willingly by my sister. I didn’t force her.” Xue Yunyi replied steadily, neither servile nor overbearing. “Since she gave it to me, it became mine. What reason is there to take it back?”
The Emperor’s face turned livid with rage. “You dare talk back to Zhen!”
Li Fuzhong’s legs trembled, and he dropped to his knees, sweat pouring down his face.
When the Son of Heaven grew angry, no one in the hall dared speak. Only Xue Yunyi remained unmoved, her clear eyes shining without a trace of fear.
Gazing into those eyes, the Emperor felt a throbbing pain in his temples.
It wasn’t that he disliked Xue Yunyi. She was his flesh and blood, after all, bound by ties of kinship.
But she was too much like Empress Jiang.
The way she looked at him was the same, her tone of voice identical. Even that stubborn streak deep in her bones matched perfectly.
The Emperor grew more irritated and let out a heavy breath.
Fortunately, Xue Yunyi spoke up in time, breaking the deathly silence in the hall. “Father Emperor, it’s not impossible for me to return the hairpin to my sister. But I want something of equal value in exchange—don’t you think that’s fair?”
The Emperor shot her a glance, waiting for her to continue.
Xue Yunyi said, “I want her to trade Flowing Snow for it.”
Flowing Snow.
Flowing Snow again.
A vein throbbed at the Emperor’s temple. For the sake of that beast, Empress Jiang had defied him publicly before the court and never uttered a word of submission until her death. Now her daughter was fixated on the mute creature too!
Chest heaving with fury, the Emperor clenched his jaw, barely preserving a shred of imperial dignity. Without a word, he flicked his sleeve and stormed out.
“Father Emperor, take care,” Xue Yunyi called after him.
Li Fuzhong scrambled to follow. As he reached the door, he couldn’t resist glancing back at Xue Yunyi and sighing inwardly. What was the point of all this, Eldest Princess?
Once the sound of the Emperor’s footsteps had fully faded, Mo Ying rose and advised softly, “Your Highness, behaving like this will only make His Majesty distance himself from you further.”
Xue Yunyi picked up her brush again and laid down a heavy stroke of thick black ink.
“Grind more ink.”
Mo Ying knew further words were useless and fell silent.
By evening, the rain had finally eased. A messenger arrived from Ninghua Palace with word that Xue Qingzhi agreed to give Flowing Snow to Xue Yunyi and asked her to bring the hairpin next time she came to paint.
Looking out the window at the sky, it seemed the weather would clear soon.
Xue Yunyi instructed Mo Ying to fetch the hairpin from her vanity. Then a thought struck her, and she called Mo Ying back.
“Are there any Condensed Cold Pills left from what Judge Wu gave us?”
On New Year’s Eve, a heavy snow had fallen in the Capital City. She had caught a chill and burned with fever through the night until Judge Wu’s Condensed Cold Pill brought it down with just one dose.
Mo Ying thought for a moment. “There should be some remaining. Why does Your Highness ask? Are you unwell?”
“No matter. Fetch them first.”
With the rain and damp chill these past two days, Wu Lang’s illness might linger. If the fever persisted, it could turn serious. These pills… might come in handy.
Mo Ying duly retrieved the items Xue Yunyi wanted, including the White Jade Vial, and handed them over.
Condensed Cold Pills were precious, with unique properties that required storage in fine cold jade vessels. Xue Yunyi rubbed the cool jade between her fingers, and unbidden, her thoughts returned to Wu Lang’s trembling, jade-shard eyes from their first meeting.
“Rest now.” She set the vial aside, unwilling to dwell on it further, and had Mo Ying wheel her to the bedside.
The next day, the rain stopped as expected. Dawn was breaking, with morning light piercing the clear sky, streaked by a brilliant rainbow. Stepping out of the hall, Xue Yunyi inhaled the fresh scent of grass and earth after the rain, her mood lifting considerably.
True to her word, she brought the Jade Butterfly Pearl Step-Shake to Ninghua Palace. As Xue Qingzhi took it, she said in a mocking tone, “I hadn’t planned to ask for it back from Imperial Sister, but I mentioned it casually to Father Emperor. Who knew he would visit your palace personally? I hope Imperial Sister doesn’t hold it against me.”
Xue Yunyi smiled. “No matter. As long as you return Flowing Snow to me, little sister.”
She emphasized the word “return” just a touch. Xue Qingzhi recalled the vague wording in Li Fuzhong’s message yesterday and realized Flowing Snow was the beloved horse of Empress Jiang’s that she had whimsically demanded from the Emperor long ago.
No wonder Xue Yunyi wanted to trade that beast for it.
Xue Qingzhi let out a soft scoff in her heart. Xue Yunyi was just like Empress Jiang—both of them stubborn fools. It was nothing more than a beast, yet the mother and daughter pair treated it like a treasure.
She betrayed none of this on her face, simply smiling as she sat down and let Xue Yunyi continue with the painting.
As Xue Yunyi unrolled the painting paper, she casually glanced several times toward Xue Qingzhi’s side. Of the four male companions attending Xue Qingzhi today, only Jie An was familiar; the rest were all new faces.
No Wu Lang.
For some reason, a faint sense of unease stirred in Xue Yunyi’s heart.
An hour passed in the blink of an eye, and the painting was nearly half finished. Xue Qingzhi rose with a beaming smile, putting on an act as she said, “Imperial Sister, you’ve worked hard.”
“I’m feeling weary, so I won’t see you out, Imperial Sister.” She pointed casually at Jie An standing behind her, a lazy smile playing on her lips. “Let Jie An escort you to fetch Flowing Snow. His voice is pleasant; he can keep you entertained on the way.”
Jie An stepped forward respectfully and bowed to Xue Yunyi.
“Your Highness, this way, please.”
Once they left the bedchamber, Mo Ying pushed the wheelchair as she followed behind Jie An toward the stables.
Seeing that no one else was around, Xue Yunyi called out to Jie An, who was walking ahead. “Young Master Jie.”
Jie An turned back in surprise. “Y-Your Highness, what are your orders?”
“Why didn’t I see Wu Lang today?” Xue Yunyi asked.
Jie An hesitated for a moment before stammering, “H-He’s ill and couldn’t attend the Princess, so he wasn’t permitted to enter the chamber.”
Xue Yunyi frowned. “Is his illness severe? Has the Second Princess given him any medicine?”
From what she had observed at the time, Wu Lang’s face had been flushed with fever. Xue Qingzhi could not possibly have missed how unwell he was.
By the time they finished speaking, the group had reached the stables. Jie An stepped forward to untie Flowing Snow’s reins. His gaze flickered toward a nearby horse stall, and after hemming and hawing for a long moment, he finally whispered, “The Second Princess doesn’t know he’s ill… The day before yesterday, he must have made some mistake that greatly angered her. She locked him in the punishment room and disciplined him for two or three hours before letting him out. He was barely breathing by then. I sneaked a look at him last night—his body was covered in blood, and his forehead was burning like a furnace. I don’t know if he can make it through today…”