Night had fallen, and an imperial decree issued from within Zichen Hall.
Cui Cheng was not surprised. He quickly instructed the young eunuchs under his command to hurry outside the palace and summon the officials from the Ministry of Rites to begin preparations for the empress conferment ceremony.
Tomorrow marked the death anniversary of the Late Empress. The entire palace was accustomed to making ready for it, but the sudden announcement of a new empress set everything ablaze with uproar.
Xue Gui came rushing over from somewhere in a panic. “How can it be a direct conferment of the empress? This seems rather against protocol.”
There were plenty of improprieties in the palace; what was one more? Cui Cheng shot him a glance and fanned himself. “Where have you been fooling around? You reek of medicinal herbs.”
“I hurt myself moving and lifting things. It’s nothing serious.”
Cui Cheng said, “Then I’ll stand watch tonight. You go rest early.”
“Thank you for your consideration, Master.” Xue Gui pressed on. “His Majesty has truly fallen in love this time!”
Cui Cheng gave a meaningful smile. “True affection or mere pretense—who can say for certain?”
Xue Gui mulled it over for a moment. “The new empress is destined for a brilliant future.”
“We’ll see.” With that, Cui Cheng entered the hall, leaving Xue Gui standing alone in place.
Xue Gui lingered there a while, smacking his lips and letting out a couple of appreciative tsks.
Then he turned and departed.
Cui Cheng poked his head out from inside the hall and watched the receding figure grow distant. His gaze turned icy.
Helian Jin sat alone before the Imperial Couch. The cold blade parted his skin, carving fresh wounds atop the old ones that still oozed blood. Crimson flowed freely, soon filling a delicate jade dish.
As though he felt no pain, he took a silk cloth and wrapped the cuts haphazardly. Then he straightened his robes and settled at the desk.
Dipping his finger like a brush, he traced elegant characters slowly across the dark purple sandalwood: Chu Chu, his late wife.
Ever since that ritual had allowed him to dream of Ah Chu, it had become an indispensable nightly routine before bed.
Some nights she entered his dreams; others passed in empty silence.
Helian Jin traced the characters three more times.
The ink was fresh blood, vivid testimony to his sincerity.
Ah Chu had returned. Wei Shan claimed that His Majesty nourished her soul with his heart’s blood, bringing her back from death. To ensure she endured forever, the offering must continue without cease.
Helian Jin placed no faith in such mysticism, nor in Wei Shan’s words, yet he followed through regardless.
He could not stake Ah Chu’s fate on the man’s veracity.
Perhaps it was greed that drove him. Ah Chu resided safely in the Side Hall, yet every moment she was not before his eyes, Helian Jin yearned to see her.
Even in dreams, she must not be absent.
He caressed the memorial tablet and lay down.
The moon sank westward, the world hushed in stillness. Helian Jin lay alone, sleep eluding him.
He recalled a late night from years past, when Ah Chu had suffered the same insomnia. Helian Jin had held her close as they sat upon the low couch by the window, sharing a vast outer robe.
The clear night sky glittered with stars. Ah Chu’s eyes were keen; she counted them one by one, heedless of his hands roaming freely.
“Yuheng, Yaoguang… Helian Jin, don’t…”
“Counting stars won’t lull you to sleep? Let me help you, Ah Chu.”
“Zhinu… Ox…”
“And what of this star?”
“Helian Jin…” Ah Chu twisted to evade him.
“This one?”
Words failed her. She tilted her chin and caught his earlobe between her teeth before a moan could escape, nipping him lightly with one sharp canine.
Helian Jin remained unmoved, his hands growing bolder still.
At last Ah Chu released him, whimpering, “You mustn’t touch that one.”
“Very well, I won’t.”
Coaxed and teased, she named those two stars at last. Inevitably, after long minutes, drowsiness overtook her. She lay soft and limp in his arms, lashes fluttering down.
He patted her back gently to ease her into slumber. “Ah Chu’s two stars taste so sweet.”
Ah Chu summoned her strength for a fierce glare. “Helian Jin, get out…”
He laughed. “From heaven above to earth below, only Ah Chu dares speak to me so.”
Ah Chu… Ah Chu.
Tonight promised no sleep, and certainly no dreams.
Helian Jin rose, donned his robe, and strode from Zichen Hall.
Cui Cheng had been dozing just outside when a gust of wind stirred him. He saw the emperor vanish into the deep night, moving as if in a trance.
Oh dear!
Cui Cheng hurried after him but saw His Majesty heading for the Side Hall. He hung back at a distance and summoned the night-duty palace maids to prepare items for a bath.
Had the emperor grown addicted to the pleasures of the flesh, unable to abstain?
The daytime had not sated him; now, in the dead of night, he sought her once more.
Cui Cheng knew a thing or two about whether His Majesty’s body could bear it—the blood he had drawn over these years, the countless sleepless nights.
In the Side Hall’s bedchamber, Yun Jichu slept on her side, her face turned outward, clutching a soft pillow to her chest.
Helian Jin cupped his palm to dim the lamp’s faint glow.
She slumbered deeply, lost in dreams, her brows faintly furrowed in unease.
The light seeping through his fingers played across her face. Though he had already seen her plainly, Helian Jin leaned closer still, gazing intently.
Their warm breaths mingled as one.
Yun Jichu was running madly.
In the dream, the buildings were low and squat, like a few gentle dirt mounds in the countryside. Cars on the wide roads had transformed into colossal behemoths, their engine roars shaking the heavens as Yun Jichu fled down the crowded streets.
People kept dying, crushed beneath the wheels with blood splattering like smashed tomatoes, thick juices spraying everywhere.
A sweet, metallic taste surged up Yun Jichu’s throat. She swallowed it down hard, and then the tears came.
Help… Help.
The massive thing hurtled toward her, its merciless gale intent on stripping the skin from these insignificant humans.
Yun Jichu’s body went rigid. “Help! Help!” she screamed.
“Ah Chu! Ah Chu!!”
Yun Jichu snapped her eyes open. Her chaotic, ragged breaths made the single flickering lamp flame dance wildly. Her limbs ached and went numb, her vision blurred, but she could just make out Helian Jin’s silhouette.
Like clutching the last lifeline, she lurched upright in a panic and seized Helian Jin’s sleeve. Her voice came out weak and feeble. “Help.”
The lamp was tossed casually onto the floor tiles and snuffed out in an instant.
In the pitch darkness, Yun Jichu was drawn into a warm embrace.
Helian Jin’s voice held the same warmth as his arms. “Ah Chu, what did you dream about?”
In that moment, Yun Jichu nearly blurted it all out, but she caught herself.
“I… I’m fine.”
After the nightmare, she realized she was alone in this strange world, everything familiar turned alien. Desolation washed over her in waves like the tide, and Yun Jichu gradually lost her strength. She sat back on the bed by herself and wiped away her tears.
“Are the Princess and Crown Prince doing alright?”
Helian Jin narrowed his eyes at her words, though his voice remained mild. “Zhen checked on them tonight. Ah Nian has been brooding these past days, burying himself in his books. Ah Huan had no such worries, but she fussed before bed, wanting you to coax her to sleep. Zhen promised her she could visit the Side Hall tomorrow, and only then did she settle down.”
A chill crept into his tone. “Ah Chu, what’s wrong? Why bring up the children all of a sudden?”
Yun Jichu pulled the covers over herself and lay back down, mumbling into her pillow. “Nothing.”
Helian Jin sat at the bedside. Her warmth still lingered in his arms, but his chest felt cool where Ah Chu’s tears had soaked through his robes.
“Your Majesty, what place does the Late Empress hold in your heart?”
Helian Jin stared at her. “No one can compare.”
“And the Crown Prince and Princess?”
“They cannot compare to her either.”
His two children were the relics Ah Chu had left him—the breath that had kept him going alone all these years, his final shred of solace.
They were merely extensions of Ah Chu, but no one in this world could ever replace her. Not even her own children.
Yun Jichu suddenly tugged at his sleeve. “Your Majesty, you must cherish the Crown Prince and Princess above all else.”
Helian Jin’s voice dripped with frost. “What exactly did you dream of?”
Yun Jichu fell silent.
Wei Shan’s words echoed in her mind: Pretend you’ve lost your memories, with occasional headaches splitting your skull like someone tearing at your soul. I’ll handle His Majesty. Once that madman cuts the heart-blood from those two little ones to nourish you, just act like you’re getting a bit better. Understand?
Dazed and groggy, Yun Jichu suddenly felt her forehead burning. She flopped onto the bed and reached out with both hands to grasp Helian Jin’s large palm. By the moonlight, she looked up at him.
“Your Majesty, all things in this world flow away like a rushing river. Talk of the dead coming back to life is utter nonsense. I beg Your Majesty not to cling to the past—”
Helian Jin suddenly gripped her hand tight. Yun Jichu jolted awake, cold sweat prickling her skin.
She must have been delirious from sleep. The Late Empress was His Majesty’s reverse scale—how could she speak of her so casually?
Moreover, she was just a stand-in now. What right did a substitute have to urge him to forget the original?
Wasn’t this asking for death?
Yet Helian Jin said nothing in the end. With his other hand, he tested her forehead. “Ah Chu, you’re sick.”
The fever struck fast and fierce, crashing over Yun Jichu like a tidal wave and breaking her down. The worries, fears, and frustrations pent up over these days all conspired against her, trapping her in her sickbed.
She choked down two bowls of bitter medicine. Her body burned hot, her breaths shallow and weak. The imperial physicians were waved away twice, while Helian Jin kept vigil at her bedside.
Dawn was just breaking when Cui Cheng paced frantically outside the Side Hall.
“What are we to do? We only drafted the decree to crown her Empress last night, and now she falls ill in the dead of night?”
Lady Shuxiu kept her head bowed and handed him an object.
Cui Cheng took it and unwrapped the handkerchief. Inside was a Butterfly Golden Hairpin—it had to be Lady Yun’s.
“What does this mean?”
“Please examine it closely, Eunuch Cui.”
Cui Cheng peered at it under the lantern, his eyes going wide. “There’s blood on it! Could it be—could Lady Yun have harmed herself?”
Lady Shuxiu shook her head. “Her Ladyship has no wounds on her body.”
“Then she hurt someone else.” Strange thoughts flickered through Cui Cheng’s mind, too fleeting to hold onto. He only muttered, “No wonder the sudden fever. Her Ladyship must have been frightened.”
Lady Shuxiu suddenly dropped to her knees. “The Consort has a pure and kind heart—she is no wicked sort. For her to be driven to such desperation that she lashed out in self-defense speaks to that person’s ruthless cunning. I beg Eunuch Cui to report this judiciously to His Majesty.”
Cui Cheng was stunned.
Everyone in the palace knew Shuxiu for her cold demeanor—an impartial, rather stern female palace servant. Yet here she was, kneeling to plead on behalf of another.
“I will report the matter truthfully to His Majesty, of course,” he said. “Lady Shuxiu, there’s no need for such a grand gesture. Please, rise at once.”
Cui Cheng continued, “His Majesty missed court yesterday due to his headache. What of today…?”
Lady Shuxiu entered to examine the Consort’s condition. A quarter-hour later, she stepped out of the Side Hall, her face grave. “The Consort’s illness shows no sign of easing. His Majesty hasn’t left her bedside for a moment. I’m afraid morning court…”
Cui Cheng nodded in understanding and set off to handle it.
Before departing, he offered Shuxiu some reassurance. “Don’t worry yourself. It’s always been this way.”
He knew exactly what troubled her. With the Consort on the verge of being instated as Empress, she had His Majesty so entwined that he neglected affairs of state. It could damage her reputation and invite criticism from the court officials.
Even a genuine illness would twist into rumors of pretense through the grapevine.
But that was needless worry. When had His Majesty ever cared for such gossip?
Besides, those who had endured these years were inured to it all. His Majesty knew precisely what he was about. For the sake of the Little Crown Prince, he had devoted himself to governance, retaining only loyal confidants and stalwart ministers at court.
Cui Cheng could only pray the Consort’s health held steady. His Majesty… truly could not weather another blow.
Yun Jichu had drifted in and out of sleep she couldn’t even count anymore, her body still wracked by chills and fever by turns. The medicine was bitterly unpleasant and maddeningly slow to work. With great effort, she reached out a hand.
Someone clasped it at once. Helian Jin’s palm had chilled anew. “Ah Chu.”
Yun Jichu had no quarrel with the imperial physicians’ prescriptions, but if she wanted the fever to break, she couldn’t lie smothered under quilts in a stifling room, waiting it out. She needed to cool down.
That was the last flicker of clarity in her muddled mind.
“Open the windows—let some air in. Wipe me down with warm water.”
Seizing her moment of lucidity, she stressed, “Have Shuxiu do the wiping.”