By the Taiye Pool, a spring breeze caressed her face, but Yun Jichu’s back ran chill, sending a shiver down her spine.
Everyone present fell silent, kneeling with heads bowed. Only the Little Princess’s sobs echoed in the air. Even Lady Shuxiu turned around and prostrated herself toward the Imperial Procession.
Yun Jichu was trapped in the princess’s embrace. She couldn’t bow down, nor could she shove the girl away. Inwardly, she wailed in misery.
She glanced at the Crown Prince. His gaze remained deep and intense, fixed unwaveringly on her. He showed no sign of prying the princess loose.
The scene was solemn and reverent, but the crowd’s fear of this emperor far outweighed any respect. He was bloodthirsty and brutal, his moods as fickle as the wind. Even the Selection Candidates, desperate to claw their way up, didn’t dare overstep by a hair.
Li Wenzhu shifted unobtrusively to one side, putting a little more distance between herself and Yun Jichu.
From afar approached a tall, imposing figure. His black robes gleamed with an eerie, cold sheen under the sunlight, his face obscured. Amid the throng bowing and scraping around him, he strode directly toward them.
It might have been a game with save files—five years ago, she’d romanced Helian Jin and even borne him two little children—but her original identity had long since been devoured by that garbage System. Now Yun Jichu had to start from absolute scratch, living it all firsthand. She couldn’t risk a single slip-up.
Her heart hammered in her chest.
This was nothing like the game’s lighthearted playthroughs, where a wrong choice meant an infinite reload. The throbbing pain in her knees was a constant reminder: this wasn’t make-believe, nor a string of code. Helian Jin was a tyrant who butchered Selection Candidates on a whim.
She could very well die here.
Her heart lodged in her throat as Yun Jichu ran through every regret of her life.
Suddenly, the Crown Prince picked up the Butterfly Hairpin from the ground and offered it to her. “This is your hairpin. It’s very pretty.”
With that, he tugged the princess away from Yun Jichu, scooped up the kite from the dirt, cast one last profound glance over his shoulder, and led the princess back toward the Imperial Procession.
The crystal beads at the tips of the butterfly wings quivered with Yun Jichu’s every breath. She lifted her head again, watching those two small figures recede into the distance.
The Crown Prince bent low, murmuring something to the princess. She wiped away her tears and nodded vigorously.
The Imperial Procession had halted on the stone bridge a dozen paces away. At last, Yun Jichu got a clear look at the young emperor.
Helian Jin squatted down, his opulent robes pooling on the ground. He dabbed at the princess’s tears, his long, pale fingers smoothing over her hair bun. He looked different from the character portrait she’d seen five years ago—somehow even more handsome, yet laced with an eerie, deathly pallor that the image hadn’t captured.
His eyes, like frozen abysses, sparked to life only at the sight of the children. A faint trickle of warmth and concern lent him a touch of vitality.
Helian Jin seemed to sense her stare. His gaze flicked her way just as their eyes were about to meet. Yun Jichu whipped her head down and kowtowed to the ground.
Another gust of wind swept past. She realized her back was slick with a thin sheen of cold sweat.
The real Helian Jin was nothing like the man she’d known in the game five years prior.
Back then, she’d often drag him out of the Prince’s Mansion to wander the streets, admire the flowers, go fishing, or simply stroll the grounds during festivals—the Flower Dynasty Festival, Qixi Festival, Mid-Autumn Festival. They spent countless hours together.
His replies had been scripted game dialogue, repetitive and polished, but Yun Jichu could feel it: Helian Jin was happy. He enjoyed her company.
Helian Jin had been a gentle, erudite soul.
No filters colored her view; the stats backed it up. Those attributes were ironclad proof.
This Helian Jin was clearly a different man.
When Yun Jichu dared look up again, she saw only his retreating back.
The Little Princess perched on one broad shoulder, her tiny hands having knocked his golden coronet askew. In the crook of his other arm nestled the Little Crown Prince, who looked lost in thought, chin propped on Helian Jin’s shoulder, eyes fixed on Yun Jichu.
The eunuchs around them took it all in stride. Those bearing the obstructing fans held them steady; those with the curved canopies kept them aloft. In grand, orderly array, they escorted the emperor away.
Yun Jichu tore her gaze away and rose with the other Selection Candidates—right into the sharp glare of Lady Shuxiu.
“Lady Yun, kneel!”
Yun Jichu sighed inwardly and dropped back to her knees. The lotus pattern bit into her skin again, but by now she was numb to the pain.
Lady Shuxiu wasted no words on lectures, simply pronouncing judgment. “Return to Chengxiang Hall for solitary reflection. No wandering about!”
Lady Shuxiu was stern and impartial, her pride as unyielding as steel.
Even in the game five years ago, she’d been impossible to budge. Yun Jichu had poured effort into grinding her favorability, only clearing that obstacle after unlocking a hidden storyline.
No wiggle room here, then. Yun Jichu submitted meekly.
Bonked on the head out of nowhere, hairpin lost in the scuffle, knees ground raw from kneeling—and her sole reward was house arrest.
A slab of lotus-embossed brick seemed to crush Yun Jichu’s chest. She could scarcely draw breath.
The most unfortunate part was transmigrating into the game only to discover that the target she needed to win over wasn’t the man she’d once liked.
Whispers rose among the other selection candidates around her.
“Could it be that she resembles the Late Empress?”
“So what? The last one who looked like her died ages ago.”
“She seems so dull and quiet usually, but her mind is surprisingly sharp.”
Lady Shuxiu spoke up. “Silence.”
“Ladies, please follow me into Qinghui Pavilion.”
Everyone fell quiet and followed along joyfully.
Li Wenzhu brought up the rear. As she passed Yun Jichu, she quietly asked, “Ah Chu, are you alright?”
Yun Jichu forced a smile and nodded.
Not good. Not good at all. She wanted to quit the game.
Li Wenzhu’s gaze landed on the butterfly hairpin at Yun Jichu’s temple before she looked away. “Have you actually met the Crown Prince?”
Yun Jichu shook her head.
Li Wenzhu glanced at her hair again. “The Crown Prince has a temperament like His Majesty. I never expected him to compliment your hairpin.”
Yun Jichu noticed Li Wenzhu’s distraction. She kept stealing glances at Yun Jichu’s hair.
Yun Jichu reached up, removed the Beaded Butterfly Hairpin, and offered it to her with easy generosity. “Is it this you like?”
Li Wenzhu’s face turned bright red as she stammered.
Yun Jichu knew she’d guessed right. She pressed the hairpin into Li Wenzhu’s hand. “Since you like it, it’s yours.”
“You…” Li Wenzhu clutched the hairpin tightly, words failing her. “Sigh, never mind.”
To Yun Jichu, hairpins and jewelry were worthless baubles that only added strain to her fragile neck. She had no idea why Li Wenzhu had suddenly taken an interest in this butterfly hairpin, but if the woman wanted it, she could have it.
Li Wenzhu headed off to Qinghui Pavilion, while another Blue-Robed Female Official escorted Yun Jichu back to Chengxiang Hall.
Perhaps as punishment, no carriage had been provided.
Yun Jichu considered it a blessing in disguise.
As she passed the transverse street once more, she spotted several slender young men in white robes. They walked in perfect formation with bowed heads, heading toward Zichen Hall. They lacked the robust build of the Jinwu Guards. Each carried a wooden box slung over one shoulder and wore a small black cap.
Yun Jichu glanced at them a few extra times.
The female official beside her explained, “Those are the painters summoned to create portraits for His Majesty. The Late Empress’s death anniversary is approaching, so the palace is full of ritualists, painters, and craftsmen coming and going. That’s why, after this spring viewing at Qinghui Pavilion, all you selection candidates must remain quietly in Chengxiang Hall until selection day.”
In other words, she’d just missed her last chance for some fresh air?
Yun Jichu had the following six points to make.
~~~
“If we fail the selection, what will become of us?” Yun Jichu began pondering her future.
The Blue-Robed Female Official noted that Yun Jichu had removed her pearl hairpin and was now asking about failing the selection. Clearly, her earlier wild ideas had faded. The walk from Taiye Pool to Chengxiang Hall was quite a distance, so the official was willing to chat with this wayward candidate who had seen the error of her ways.
“His Majesty is benevolent. Failed ladies receive an imperial jade treasure and return home to marry as they please.”
Evidently, even if she made it home alive, she couldn’t escape the path of marriage.
Yun Jichu asked again, “Lady, do I resemble the Late Empress?”
The Blue-Robed Female Official’s face drained of color. She glanced around before hissing in a low voice, “Don’t talk nonsense! The Late Empress is His Majesty’s greatest taboo. How dare you discuss her in public!”
Yun Jichu clamped her mouth shut.
The Blue-Robed Female Official leaned in closer and whispered urgently, “Not even the palace eunuchs have laid eyes on them. His Majesty tends to the portraits in his bedchamber himself.”
She warned, “Lady Shuxiu confined you today because she doesn’t want a young girl like you dying before your time. If you have any sense, abandon those fantasies of seducing the emperor. You’ve heard what happened to the last woman who looked like her.”
Yun Jichu felt a pang of sorrow.
Absurd. Unjust…
The Blue-Robed Female Official continued, “The Crown Prince and Princess are the apples of His Majesty’s eye. He treasures the children the Late Empress left behind like precious jewels. If you’re scheming to take another route through them, give it up now.”
She wasn’t. She wouldn’t dare. Yun Jichu just wanted to stay alive.
Back in her small room at Chengxiang Hall, Yun Jichu lay down with her mind in chaos.
She had no lingering attachments to the modern world, but that didn’t mean she was ready to live carefree in a place where her head could roll at any moment.
System, System?
The room was utterly silent.
Yun Jichu buried herself under the quilt and rolled back and forth a couple of times.
There was no system at all! Nothing to tell her what to do next.
Could this game world revolve entirely around her? Was she the protagonist, the absolute master of it all, which was why no system controlled her?
Did that mean she couldn’t die?
Yun Jichu decided it was best not to test the protagonist invincibility rule.
She was lost in worry when three soft knocks suddenly sounded from the window: tap tap tap.
The sky had already darkened. Who would come to Chengxiang Hall and knock on a Selection Consort’s window?
Yun Jichu opened the window and saw the Little Crown Prince clambering in, bracing himself against the sill.
He hopped down to the floor, brushed the dust from his palms, straightened his sleeves and robe hem, and then stood tall. He looked exactly as proper and composed as he had during the daytime, with no trace that he had just climbed through a window.
Yun Jichu hesitated, unsure whether she should kneel—her knees were aching too much.
The Little Crown Prince said, “We’ll talk standing up.”
Perfect; she had no desire to kneel anyway.
Gazing at the solemn Little Crown Prince, Yun Jichu asked, “What brings Your Highness the Crown Prince here?”
The Crown Prince tilted his face up to look at her, his expression utterly serious. “Selection Consort Yun, do you know what the crime of deceiving one’s sovereign entails?”
~~~
Inside Penglai Hall, the Princess lay on the bed, cradling a little tiger whose fur had faded from countless washings in her arms.
The toy clashed starkly with the hall’s opulent surroundings.
Helian Jin sat beside her, reading from a travelogue. The account was vivid and engaging, and his deep, magnetic voice evoked the scent of mountain pines under the warm afternoon sun.
All the palace maids had withdrawn to the hall’s exterior, each occupied with her own duties.
His Majesty spent his days either attending to state affairs or accompanying the Crown Prince and Princess—a routine unchanged these past five years.
From his children’s first lisping words to their boisterous running and jumping, His Majesty poured all his time and energy into them. Any spare moments were devoted to mourning his late wife.
Helian Jin set the book aside and asked, “Does Ah Huan have something weighing on her mind?”
The Princess’s eyelashes fluttered, and at last she opened her eyes, murmuring glumly, “Is Imperial Father having another headache?”
Helian Jin offered no reply and pressed on. “Today by Taiye Pool—was it truly just a fall?”
The Princess lowered her lashes, rolled over to face the bed’s inner side, and pressed the faded little tiger to her forehead.
“Mother… if only Mother were still here.”