Today, the Emperor lingered longer than usual in Penglai Hall. Outside the hall, Cui Cheng quietly instructed the new young eunuch Xue Gui.
“Everyone, stay alert. You, hurry back to Zichen Hall and prepare the medicinal soup.”
Xue Gui quickly agreed and ran off into the night with his head bowed.
Night had enveloped the solemn Imperial Palace. Cui Cheng glanced at the horizon, where dark clouds roiled—it looked like rain was coming again.
Penglai Hall stood near Taiye Pool, and a wind had now risen.
His Majesty’s headaches had struck more fiercely this year. Even on warm days with gentle breezes, they could not be held at bay, let alone during stretches of continuous rain.
The Late Empress’s death anniversary drew ever nearer. Those Daoist priests had been coming and going frequently from Zichen Hall. It was said that yesterday they had imparted a secret technique to His Majesty, one said to summon souls and query the departed.
Cui Cheng had no idea if such a method could work on someone dead for five years.
Before entering the palace as a youth, he had witnessed folk rituals using soul-summoning arts to prolong the lives of the deceased. But they were nothing more than superstitious comforts for the bereaved—how could anyone take them seriously?
The current His Majesty had once been a young general renowned for his battle achievements, a wise ruler who governed the realm through classics and civil administration. Ghostly and divine matters were absurd—would His Majesty so easily believe in them?
Cui Cheng shook his head. His thin frame was slightly hunched, his brows tightly furrowed.
He didn’t know.
All he knew was that this morning, upon entering to attend him, a bloody scent had assaulted his nostrils. Beside the Imperial Couch, on the incense table where white gauze swayed lightly, the Late Empress’s memorial tablet appeared to have been freshly repainted. In the hall’s gloomy chill, those stark characters glared vividly crimson and alluring.
Light footsteps echoed from within the hall. Cui Cheng hurried forward two steps and asked the approaching figure, “Lady Yu, how are things?”
Lady Yu was the Princess’s personal attendant, over forty years of age, with a plump build, kind brows, and a benevolent gaze. She spoke in her usual unhurried manner. “The Princess skipped dinner tonight. His Majesty is coaxing her to eat now.”
Cui Cheng breathed a sigh of relief. “Why wasn’t a meal sent in?”
As His Majesty’s personal eunuch, with his life and fortune bound entirely to the Emperor, it was only natural for him to ask.
Lady Yu smiled faintly. “The Princess has no appetite, so His Majesty is simply keeping her company with some sweet soup.”
“The Empress Dowager impressed upon me repeatedly that she wanted to see His Majesty today. With this weather, I’m afraid I won’t be able to give a good account of myself.”
Lady Yu replied, “The Empress Dowager means well. She certainly doesn’t want another death during this year’s selection of consorts.”
Cui Cheng gave a helpless smile. Three years ago, the Empress Dowager and His Majesty had grown apart, and then the selection incident had occurred right on its heels, piling frost upon the snow of their strained relations.
Yet the Empress Dowager was His Majesty’s birth mother, after all. She could not bear to see him wasting away and always hoped to fill the rear palace, thereby easing the knot in his heart.
Having served at his side every day, Cui Cheng knew full well the weight the Late Empress carried in His Majesty’s heart. He shook his head to himself.
“I only hope the selection ends soon.”
The two exchanged a glance, everything understood without need for words.
Another female attendant hurried over. “The Princess has fallen asleep.”
A stir rippled outside the hall. Cui Cheng straightened his sleeves, swept a glance over the attendants behind him, and confirmed they were all properly bowed with heads lowered and no breaches of decorum. Only then did he bow politely to Lady Yu. “We shall take our leave first.”
Lady Yu returned the bow.
Helian Jin strode out from the hall. Cui Cheng bowed and stepped forward, stealing only a quick glance upward. He could tell that this unpredictable Emperor was now steeped in melancholy.
He swallowed the words that had been on the tip of his tongue. Instinct told him this was absolutely not the moment to bring up the Empress Dowager.
Helian Jin was twenty-eight years old. The Empress Dowager’s beauty was striking, and the Late Emperor had been extraordinarily handsome, so he possessed a transcendent poise and heroic bearing that surpassed them both in features and physique.
Yet over these five years, his headaches had grown ever more severe, often robbing him of sleep through the night and lending him an added air of gloom. A mere glance at him sent chills racing up the spine.
After Taiye Pool’s waters had run red three years ago, who in the palace still dared act with impunity?
Even Cui Cheng lived in daily trepidation, to say nothing of the other eunuchs. They scarcely dared draw a deep breath while stealing a peek at the Emperor’s hem, for fear of incurring his displeasure.
Helian Jin said nothing, nor did Cui Cheng dare speak. The group trudged toward Zichen Hall in deathly silence.
The willow branches by Taiye Pool rustled loudly in the wind. Helian Jin halted and turned his head to gaze that way.
Cold sweat broke out down Cui Cheng’s back. Following his gaze into the deep night, he saw the willow fronds whipping about wildly, their movements unruly.
The willow branches needed trimming.
Cui Cheng made a mental note, praying he would not take offense.
Yet Helian Jin merely stared vacantly for a moment before withdrawing his gaze and resuming his stride. Abruptly, he asked, “Where is the Crown Prince?”
Cui Cheng answered, “After the Little Crown Prince finished dinner, he said he wanted to walk it off, so he…”
Where had he gone? Had anyone followed? Cui Cheng didn’t know.
Helian Jin shot him a sidelong glance. “Go to Shaoyang Hall.”
That was the Crown Prince’s residence.
In a small chamber of Chengxiang Hall.
Deceiving the sovereign was a capital crime—beheading. Death once more.
Yun Jichu didn’t know how to respond. After a moment’s thought, she decided she should kneel.
But just as she began to bend her knee, the Crown Prince stopped her. “This Prince didn’t tell you to kneel.”
The Little Crown Prince stood with his hands clasped behind his back. He paced back and forth a few steps, then fixed her with the same scrutinizing gaze he had used earlier that day.
“If you’re thinking of impersonating my mother, This Prince advises you to abandon that idea at once.”
Seeing his small frame standing there so earnestly, Yun Jichu pursed her lips, squatted down to meet the Crown Prince eye to eye, and asked, “Do I look anything like the Crown Prince’s mother?”
The Crown Prince hadn’t expected such brazen rudeness. He took a step back and snapped, “You don’t look like her at all!”
He seemed utterly furious, shifting his gaze away from Yun Jichu’s face and turning it to the side.
This little stick-in-the-mud actually reminded her a bit of Helian Jin from the old days.
Five years ago, Helian Jin had been the same—icy cold on the surface, but unable to handle the slightest teasing. A couple of words were all it took to make him crack.
Yun Jichu set aside the memory and asked him seriously, “Did the Crown Prince climb through the window just to warn me about this?”
The Crown Prince appeared to be looking up at her, but his eyes were half-closed in a haughty glare that overlooked the masses. “This Prince has said all there is to say. If you persist in your folly—'”
“Ah Chu, are you there?” Li Wenzhu’s voice rang out from beyond the door, followed immediately by, “I’m coming in.”
Footsteps accompanied the creak of the door being pushed open, drawing rapidly closer.
Yun Jichu jolted in alarm. She glanced hurriedly left and right, shoved the Little Crown Prince behind the screen, and whispered urgently, “Quick, hide here. Don’t come out no matter what.”
The Crown Prince had never stooped to such furtive, thieving antics. He said sternly, “A gentleman does not—”
“Shh!” Yun Jichu pressed her index finger to her lips, silencing him, utterly forgetting the hierarchies of rank and propriety.
The Crown Prince watched her retreating back as she hurried out. He snorted but remained standing ramrod straight, his back to the screen, eyes fixed firmly ahead.
Yun Jichu strode quickly outward and nearly collided with Li Wenzhu, who was marching right in.
Li Wenzhu peered suspiciously past her. “Why is Ah Chu in such a panic?”
“I’m not.” Yun Jichu replied, “What do you want with me?”
Li Wenzhu had already settled down, poured herself a cup of tea, and taken a delicate sip. “I came to check on you.”
Yun Jichu sat as well but said nothing.
She had never been good at navigating these social niceties, and besides…
Li Wenzhu’s data hadn’t been devoured by the System. Her memories were likely the most intact of all.
Jealous, fragile, deeply scheming, ruthlessly ambitious—these were the stats Yun Jichu had seen on Li Wenzhu five years ago.
Back then, she’d found them thrilling. But now, sitting face-to-face, she felt only a chill of dread.
Even when Helian Jin was still just a Prince, Li Wenzhu had caught the Empress Dowager’s eye and been slated as a side consort candidate.
But Yun Jichu had poured in a fortune on microtransactions and pulled all-nighters grinding favorability, clawing her way from servant girl to principal wife. Helian Jin, meanwhile, had been consumed by court intrigues and endless campaigns, with no time for romance. From beginning to end, only Yun Jichu had been at his side, and Li Wenzhu had never set foot in the Prince’s Mansion.
Perhaps the storyline in this world had played out the same way.
“I’m fine. Lady Shuxiu only punished me by making me copy books.”
Li Wenzhu gave her an appraising once-over. “Who were you talking to just now?”
Yun Jichu’s heart clenched. “I was reciting my lessons.”
Li Wenzhu fixed her with a deep stare, weighing the odds that her usually wooden friend could pull off a lie.
At last, she accepted it and said worriedly, “Do you know that you look like the Late Empress?”
Yun Jichu shook her head.
Li Wenzhu’s nose reddened, tears welling up again. “Today the Princess hugged you and called you ‘Mother’—it gave me such a fright. Ah Chu, what would we do if something happened to you?”
Yun Jichu rubbed her forehead.
“Have you forgotten what happened five years ago? That Selection Candidate merely resembled the Late Empress a little, and His Majesty forced her to her death at swordpoint in Zilan Hall. Does Ah Chu want to end up the same?”
Yun Jichu couldn’t read Li Wenzhu’s true motives. “Wenzhu, thank you for your concern, but things have come to this—I have no choice.”
Li Wenzhu lightly touched the Beaded Butterfly Hairpin in her coiffure.
“How could there be no way out? There’s a sure path to save your life right now.”
Yun Jichu looked at her, exhaustion weighing on her heart.
Li Wenzhu pressed on. “If you confess to Lady Shuxiu that your virtue is lacking, she’ll let you leave the palace at once.”
Yun Jichu replied, “If I’m simply deselected, I can still receive an imperial jade token and go home to arrange my own marriage. But leaving due to misconduct—what difference is that from death?”
“Wenzhu, the day before yesterday you wanted my gauze skirt, and I gave it to you. Today you want my pearl hairpin, and I give it to you. But if tomorrow you want my future prospects, that’s asking too much.”
“You…” Li Wenzhu hadn’t expected such bluntness from Yun Jichu. She flared up in anger. “I’m only thinking of your own good!”
Yun Jichu met her gaze with utter sincerity. “You’ve known me for a long time, haven’t you?”
To be precise, Li Wenzhu had known the Princess Consort from five years ago—back when all that data had been mercilessly swallowed by the System.
That was why Li Wenzhu was on her guard, terrified of history repeating itself.
But it was all a misunderstanding.
The game had restarted from scratch. The old data had all been wiped. Even Helian Jin was just a shell of his former self, changed from gentle as jade to tyrannical and cruel. Yun Jichu herself was a different person across the two playthroughs—how could anyone judge them the same?
Li Wenzhu choked for a moment, then let out a cold laugh. “You’re pretending to be so naive and dull-witted—you almost fooled me too.”
“I have no strength left to compete with you right now. I just want to go home peacefully. You and I aren’t enemies, so why resort to all this scheming?”
Even with her inner thoughts laid bare, Li Wenzhu refused to admit it. “You’re the one with a petty mind! I simply don’t want you dying an unjust death. Do you have any idea how tyrannical His Majesty is? He kills without a second thought. Three years ago, how many people died in the palace! You—”
“You are outrageous!” The Crown Prince strode out from behind the screen, his voice thundering as he rebuked Li Wenzhu.
Startled, Li Wenzhu dropped to her knees with a thud, too flustered to utter a word. She could only tremble uncontrollably.
The Crown Prince was seething with rage. “Imperial Father did not kill anyone in Zilan Hall—so how does it become tyranny in your mouth?! There were hidden circumstances to what happened three years ago. How dare you gossip about it behind his back!”
Yun Jichu saw the Crown Prince’s face flushed crimson, his voice booming. She knew he was livid. Suddenly, she regretted her candor with Li Wenzhu—it had drawn out these treasonous words, and the Crown Prince had heard every one.
Spreading lies about his father right in front of him… It was only natural for the Crown Prince to be this furious.
She had planned to leave the palace quietly after the selection and figure things out later. But now, looking at the situation, she wasn’t even sure she’d make it out alive.
What a miserable fate.
Yun Jichu’s knees buckled, and she started to kneel as well.
But the Crown Prince pushed her aside, refusing to let her kneel. He gave her a deep look, steadied his breathing, and said gravely, “This Prince will let your words today slide for the moment. From now on, the two of you are forbidden from having any contact.”
The five-year-old child exuded an impressive dignity.
Li Wenzhu felt as though she had been granted amnesty. She was certain it was the butterfly hairpin in her hair that had won the Crown Prince’s favor.
Yun Jichu, however, could see the restraint in the Crown Prince’s eyes. He was clearly enraged, tempted to punish the offender on the spot—yet he held himself back in an instant, though she couldn’t fathom why.
In a foul mood, the Crown Prince stepped forward and yanked the pearl hairpin from Li Wenzhu’s head. “Get out—now!”
Li Wenzhu scurried away.
The room fell silent, leaving only the Crown Prince and Yun Jichu. An awkward tension hung in the air.
Yun Jichu said sincerely, “Crown Prince, forgive me. I never meant to say such things.”
The Crown Prince sighed. “She’s a cunning and treacherous sort. Why be so open with her?”
Yun Jichu didn’t know how to respond. She had no experience dealing with people, only knowing what the books said: Treat others with sincerity, and it would draw them closer.
But… reality didn’t seem to work that way.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside. Lady Shuxiu’s voice rang out: “Paying respects to His Majesty.”
A series of thuds followed as people dropped to their knees. Then an eunuch called, “His Majesty has come seeking the Crown Prince. Where is His Highness?”