After waiting a long time with no sign of Wu Lang returning, Xue Qingzhi impatiently glanced toward the door of the inner chamber. To her surprise, she caught sight of a flash of snow-white skirt hem. The lazy smile on her face moments earlier vanished, replaced by a gloom as dark as gathering storm clouds. She slammed the shallow dish of red cherries down beside her and called out in clear displeasure, “Wu Lang.”
Wu Lang’s body trembled. He didn’t dare make a sound. Lowering his eyes in embarrassment, he carefully took the cherry wrapped in the snow-white cloth into his mouth and turned to knee-walk back to Xue Qingzhi.
Where the youth had knelt trailed marks like smears of rouge.
That faint blush of red was soon crushed beneath the wheels of the wheelchair, its original hue lost forever.
Recalling the glaring bloodstains on the pebble path, Xue Yunyi’s brows furrowed slightly. A vague, uneasy suspicion stirred in her heart.
Xue Qingzhi casually extended her hand toward Wu Lang. The youth obediently lowered his head and placed the cherry from his mouth into her palm, as compliant as could be. But Xue Qingzhi found his movements too slow and slapped him across the face in sharp dissatisfaction.
“How dare you slack off and dawdle right in front of This Palace!”
Wu Lang held his breath and stayed silent, lips pressed tightly together. Amid the numb pain, a pathetic flicker of relief emerged.
At least his back was to the Eldest Princess. She shouldn’t see the abject, lowly look on his face as he took the blow.
The wheelchair came to a stop a few steps behind him. Wu Lang could sense Xue Yunyi’s nearness, close enough for him to catch the familiar herbal scent on her.
His spine shivered. The thought that Xue Yunyi might be watching him right now sent a flush of humiliation to his cheeks. Tears welled up in his eyes unbidden.
Xue Qingzhi’s hand paused mid-air, surprise flashing in her eyes. Even after the roughest nights in bed, she rarely saw Wu Lang like this. That single crystalline tear at the corner of the youth’s eye outshone the world’s most priceless moon pearls— so fragile, so pitiable.
Amused, she curved her lips. But the force of her hand only grew heavier. The teardrop trembled and slid down the swollen mark on the youth’s face. Pleased with the sight, Xue Qingzhi overlooked his failure to thank her properly as custom demanded. For once, she magnanimously tolerated his silence.
Xue Yunyi couldn’t bear to watch. She coughed heavily.
Only then did Xue Qingzhi reluctantly lower her hand. She lifted her eyes lazily. “Imperial Sister, you’re late today.”
Xue Yunyi ignored the barbed tone. “The painting I promised you is finished today. I hope Younger Sister hasn’t forgotten what you agreed to in return.”
Xue Qingzhi laughed. “Of course not. Imperial Sister can rest easy.”
Qingdai stepped forward and guided Xue Yunyi around the screen. Xue Qingzhi went to the inner room to change into her elaborate ceremonial robes, then allowed Ah Xiao to help her settle gracefully into the wide chair before the desk. In a rare good mood, she lazily beckoned to Wu Lang, still kneeling by the bed. Breaking precedent, she permitted him to stand and serve her alongside Ah Xiao.
“Come here and knead This Palace’s shoulders.”
Wu Lang staggered to Xue Qingzhi’s side and, with great effort, managed to steady himself on his feet. Mimicking Ah Xiao’s technique, he began massaging her left shoulder.
Xue Yunyi clearly saw the two vivid bloodstains on Wu Lang’s knees. Her hand paused as she lifted the brush to dip in ink.
The youth was clearly in agony. How could those red, swollen, festering knees support him for long? Kneeling might ease the pain a little, but since Xue Qingzhi had deigned to grant him the privilege of standing, how could he refuse?
Her thoughts lingered on Wu Lang’s injuries, distracting her. A drop of diluted ink fell from the brush tip, blotting right onto Xue Qingzhi’s forehead in the painting.
Mo Ying let out a soft gasp. “Your Highness!”
Xue Yunyi snapped back to attention and saw the glaring ink stain on the paper. Without a word, she set down the brush and took a fresh ink dish. She mixed in some fine powder with water. Vivid vermilion and shimmering gold powder followed. With delicate strokes of the fine wolf-hair brush, she covered the ugly blot with a stunning floral forehead ornament.
“There. Done,” Xue Yunyi said.
A palace maid immediately stepped forward, carefully lifting the painting and presenting it to Xue Qingzhi.
The woman in the painting was strikingly lifelike, as if ready to step off the page. Xue Qingzhi narrowed her eyes and said with a sour edge, “Imperial Sister truly is a master of the brush. Younger Sister can’t compare.”
“You’re too kind, Younger Sister,” Xue Yunyi replied evenly. “Since this painting is to celebrate your investiture, it should be properly mounted by the palace artisans before I present it to you. On the day of your investiture ceremony, I’ll give it to you personally in front of Father Emperor. That way, he’ll see just how deep our sisterly bond is. What do you think?”
Xue Qingzhi neither agreed nor objected. “I’ll follow Imperial Sister’s lead. You’ve thought of everything so thoroughly— I should show some sincerity in return. Qingdai, give the item to Imperial Sister.”
Qingdai approached with a beaming smile and handed the ebony wood box to Xue Yunyi. “This is the antidote Princess promised you earlier. Please accept it, Your Highness.”
Xue Yunyi was mildly surprised. She hadn’t expected Xue Qingzhi to be so straightforward.
Xue Qingzhi lifted her teacup and took a leisurely sip. She hadn’t come seeking the painting anyway— she’d only wanted to toy with Xue Yunyi.
“I won’t go back on my word to Imperial Sister. But the poison in you is quite rare. This antidote will only quench your thirst for the moment— it won’t cure you completely.”
Xue Yunyi frowned. “What do you mean?”
“After taking it, Imperial Sister will be able to move freely for two hours, just like anyone else. But after that…” Xue Qingzhi blinked. “Imperial Sister will have to obediently return to her wheelchair.”
Mo Ying’s eyes widened in shock beside her. “Second Princess, you’re bullying too far!”
Xue Qingzhi shrugged, her expression the picture of innocence. “I only promised Imperial Sister an antidote. I never said it would fully heal her legs. Imperial Sister, this maid of yours is far too ill-mannered, always shouting like that. If not for your sake, I wouldn’t let such a brazen slave off lightly.”
“You…” Mo Ying trembled with rage. Your Highness traveled to and from Ninghua Palace every day, the road arduous enough. Not to mention the time and effort poured into that painting. And yet Xue Qingzhi dared fob her off with this…
Mo Ying couldn’t stomach it, but Xue Yunyi merely patted the back of her hand gently. “Mo Ying, be quiet.”
A spark of interest lit in Xue Qingzhi’s eyes. This whole “deal” had been nothing but a game to amuse herself at Xue Yunyi’s expense. Yet Xue Yunyi didn’t seem angry at all upon learning the truth.
“Thank you, Younger Sister.” Xue Yunyi calmly handed the wooden box to Mo Ying to put away.
Xue Qingzhi arched a brow. “Is Imperial Sister leaving? Let Jie An see you out.”
“The paths in your palace are treacherous. No need to send anyone.”
As the wheelchair passed before Xue Qingzhi, Xue Yunyi’s peripheral vision caught Wu Lang’s festering, bleeding knees. A pang of sourness tightened her chest. She instinctively looked away, unable to bear the sight.
Xue Qingzhi didn’t rise either. She lounged lazily in the wide chair, watching Xue Yunyi’s figure vanish through the bedchamber door. Without the satisfaction of seeing anger on Xue Yunyi’s face, she felt she’d gotten the short end again. Pouting listlessly, she waved for her male favorites to withdraw, leaving only Wu Lang to attend her.
The youth knelt obediently. Xue Qingzhi idly toyed with the heavy iron chain around his neck, the links clinking harshly.
Bored, she tugged Wu Lang back to the soft couch and sat down. She plucked a cherry to eat, then suddenly recalled something. Earlier at the inner chamber door, Xue Yunyi seemed to have said something to Wu Lang, though she’d been too far to hear clearly. And that morning, Ah Xiao had whispered that when Xue Yunyi came to lead Flowing Snow, he’d seen her enter the stables where Wu Lang lived.
Xue Qingzhi’s face darkened. She hooked a finger under the slim slave’s chin. “Those days you were ill— did Imperial Sister come to see you?”
“…In response to Princess, this base slave was unconscious and delirious. I don’t know,” Wu Lang said evasively.
Xue Qingzhi snorted coldly. Her fingertip drifted lower, tracing the prominent “Lang” character on the iron lock.
“Remember this: You’re This Palace’s. No speaking to Imperial Sister. No dealings with her at all. Violate that, and This Palace won’t go easy on you.”
“Yes,” Wu Lang rasped.
Seeing his usual obedience, Xue Qingzhi’s mood improved. She tossed the cherry in her hand aside and commanded leisurely, “Alright, continue.”
It was rare to see Wu Lang in tears— probably because the morning’s punishment had been especially harsh. In that case, she should strike harder next time, to draw out more.
Xue Qingzhi admired the youth’s slender waist swaying lightly as he crawled. Her lips curved faintly. She called out, “Qingdai, bring a few more dishes of cherries.”
“Your Highness, the Second Princess went too far! If I were you, I’d burn that painting to ashes. Someone so vicious doesn’t deserve it!” Mo Ying had held it in the whole way back. The moment they reached Azure Cypress Palace, she burst out in indignation on Xue Yunyi’s behalf.
“Let her gloat for a few days.”
Xue Yunyi slowly unrolled the painting and weighted one corner with a paperweight. Matching the color of the floral ornament, she mixed a dish of vermilion and carefully touched up a few strokes.
Mo Ying muttered under her breath, “Why waste such fine pigments on her, Your Highness…”
Xue Yunyi looked up and smiled gently at Mo Ying. “I knew from the start she wouldn’t give me the antidote easily, so today’s events came as no surprise. The investiture ceremony is in a few days. Just wait and see the show.”
“Really?” Mo Ying blinked.
“I’m not deceiving you,” Xue Yunyi said softly. “I don’t trust anyone else with this task. Take the painting to be mounted yourself and tell the artisans to handle it with utmost care. Don’t let them damage it.”
“Yes, I’ll go right away.” Mo Ying finally smiled a little. She carefully picked up the painting and bowed before retreating from the hall.
Two palace maids brought in tea, snacks, and fresh fruit. In delicate white porcelain dishes sat ripe red cherries that made one’s mouth water just looking at them. Xue Yunyi picked one up and popped it into her mouth. She bit down gently, and the juicy flesh burst forth, staining her lips a glossy crimson.
She swallowed the fruit absentmindedly, but her mind wandered uncontrollably to the two shocking streaks of blood on Wu Lang’s knee—redder than cherries, brighter than blossoms.
To think Xue Qingzhi could devise such a cruel punishment as making him crawl a path of gravel on his knees.
Wu Lang’s cold was still lingering, and after such torment, how could his body endure? Xue Yunyi had no doubt that with Xue Qingzhi’s methods, Wu Lang would eventually die by her hand.
She lowered her gaze, restless, and pushed the porcelain dish aside. She picked up the half-read volume of Lang Prefecture Records to review it again.
The winds in the court had been stirring these past few days. Word was that the Emperor had summoned several trusted ministers to discuss candidates for Crown Princess. In previous years, the Emperor had always insisted that the Noble Consort was still young and could bear him more children—a son, perhaps—and he had pinned all his hopes on her for a prince. But her belly remained stubbornly flat, and with the ministers pressing him, the Emperor began to waver. Prime Minister Lin had advised him to use the current drought in Lang Province as a test: Whichever princess showed greater insight would be better suited for the role of Crown Princess. The court officials all agreed, but the Emperor had remained silent.
Xue Yunyi pondered for a moment, then took the Lang Province Map from between the pages of the book. She studied the dense annotations and picked up her brush.
Since the founding of the Southern Frontier, Lang Province had suffered endless disasters. Over these days, Xue Yunyi had pieced together various ideas and formed a rough plan in her mind. But she had never been to Lang Province herself; all her knowledge came from books, so she lacked full confidence.
Even so, she had to try to know if it was right or wrong.
She didn’t want to—and she absolutely would not—
lose to Xue Qingzhi.
Xue Qingzhi’s investiture ceremony was conducted with utmost grandeur. Beyond the pearl crown prepared by the Ministry of Rites, the Emperor bestowed many more treasures: agates, jades, golden hairpins, and step-shake hairpins, all packed into ten overflowing chests. It was clear how deeply favored this esteemed Anyang Princess was.
Once the ceremony ended, everyone followed the Emperor and the Noble Consort to Clear Lotus Garden in Ninghua Palace for the Anyang Princess’s birthday banquet.
The court officials presented their gifts one after another, many eager to curry favor with Xue Qingzhi. They wore fawning smiles and showered her with flattery.
Xue Yunyi sat beside Xue Qingzhi, quietly sipping her plum wine. After several rounds of toasts, the surroundings finally quieted. She set down her cup, took the long box containing the painting scroll from Mo Ying, and offered it to Xue Qingzhi.
“This is the birthday gift I promised you earlier, sister. Please accept it.”
Someone with sharp eyes noticed and immediately chimed in with praise. “Oh! I hear the Eldest Princess rarely paints for others, yet today she gifts one to the Second Princess. It truly shows the deep bond between the two sisters.”
A white-bearded old minister rose unsteadily. “I’ve often heard Lord Feng praise the Eldest Princess’s exquisite painting skills, but I’ve never had the fortune to see one. Might we have the honor today to admire it alongside the Second Princess?”