It had to be another memento.
Tears welled up again; he bit the tip of his tongue to hold them back.
The Emperor said little, offering only the sort of simple instructions he might give before any routine departure from the palace—no lingering attachments, no burdensome final wishes.
The realm was secure, the treasury brimming, his trusted aides steadfast.
Even if the Crown Prince proved a disappointment and frittered away his life in leisure, there would be no cause for worry.
“The princess was the Late Empress’s beloved. Do not restrict her. Do not arrange a marriage for her. Let her choose for herself.”
The Crown Prince’s voice trembled. “Imperial Father…”
“Withdraw.”
Zhang Ou and the others couldn’t tell whether the Late Empress His Majesty mentioned was the one from before or the one who had just passed—they didn’t dare ask, let alone try to dissuade him.
The men hesitated, words dying on their lips.
“Withdraw.”
Fengluan Palace sank back into silence, much like the countless nights before, with Helian Jin wandering its halls alone.
He inscribed a spirit tablet.
For his late wife: Chu Chu, Ah Chu, Yun Jichu.
He didn’t know which name was truly hers.
Helian Jin traced the words over and over.
Until his fingertips rubbed raw and blood welled up along the strokes, dripping down like tear after tear.
Helian Jin had gone numb.
The pain throbbing in his head felt detached from his body.
It hurt, but that was simply all it did.
Yet his body could no longer hold out. After a violent fit of coughing that sprayed blood across his robes, Helian Jin changed into fresh clothes.
Dressed in fine brocade with a jade belt and golden crown upon his brow, his face was deathly pale with dark shadows under his eyes. His tall frame filled out the garments—haggard, yet his beauty was in no way diminished.
He cradled the purple sandalwood plaque, its bloodstains now faintly crusted, and lay back upon the bed.
Fall asleep… fall asleep.
Ah Chu… Ah Chu.
In Shouning Palace, Yu Rumei had wept several times before collapsing onto the daybed.
A man in coarse cloth robes, his face shrouded, knelt a short distance away.
“What in the world is Yun Jichu? How could she just vanish like that?”
“Could Little Lian have truly killed her, with His Majesty hiding the body?”
The man in coarse cloth said nothing.
“Did you hide her yourself? Was it you?” Yu Rumei wildly speculated.
The man shook his head, his voice even more hoarse and grating than it had been days before. “Yun Jichu is a demon woman. Why should the Empress Dowager waste her energy on such a creature?”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than an incense burner hurtled toward him, smashing squarely into his forehead. The coarse cloth over his face instantly bloomed red.
Incense ash scattered across the floor, filling the air with a choking stench.
“Demon woman, demon woman! This Dowager has no thought to spare for any demon woman! Hand her over at once! This Dowager only wants the Emperor to live…”
The man in coarse cloth replied, “This Poor Daoist has a brilliant plan that can rescue His Majesty from this dire peril.”
Yu Rumei forced herself upright. “What method?”
“While traveling through Jiangnan, This Poor Daoist once divined the fortune of a lady from a local household. That young woman bore eight or nine parts resemblance to the Late Empress. At the time, This Poor Daoist knew not the Late Empress’s visage and only foresaw that the young lady possessed an extraordinary fate. Looking back now, what a fated wonder it is.”
“You mean…”
“If we bring that young lady into the palace to soothe the ache in His Majesty’s heart, his illness will be cured entirely.”
Yu Rumei bowed her head in thought. “Does that young lady come from a clean background?”
“She hails from a farming family in Jiangnan. Her parents died when she was young, and she scraped by with her uncle and aunt. Once brought into the palace and trained personally by you, that young lady will surely be grateful to the Empress Dowager.”
If it were truly so…
If she could win the Emperor’s favor…
Then they could rest easy from here on. The Emperor had toiled so hard these years, and Yu Rumei genuinely wished to ease his burdens.
Yet their mother-son bond ran shallow; they could never quite see eye to eye.
With this woman to mediate between them, how could their affection not be restored?
“See to it at once,” the Empress Dowager commanded, rising with Meng Dong’s support. “This Dowager will go see the Emperor.”
But Yu Rumei was turned back.
Cui Cheng stood guard outside Fengluan Palace. He knew His Majesty had drawn blood that night and would retire early, averse to any disturbances.
He watched the Empress Dowager’s figure recede into the distance and let out a deep sigh.
That night, Helian Jin achieved his wish.
He dreamed of Ah Chu.
But Ah Chu was drenched in blood, gazing at him in terror as she cried: “Don’t come any closer!”
He paid no heed and drew near.
Ah Chu hurled herself off the cliff.
He jolted awake, chest heaving, his hand clawing at empty air before falling limply back down.
Staring up at the lotus-embroidered bed canopy, Helian Jin lost himself in a daze.
In truth, he had never truly fathomed Ah Chu’s heart.
Several years prior, Ah Chu had professed to like him, to love him. She gifted him a jade pendant, stood by him through the years, bore him children, and their union harmonized like lute and zither in perfect accord.
Yet something in the depths of his heart always felt ungrounded.
The “like” she spoke of seemed merely that—like, and nothing more.
Perhaps because Ah Chu always did so much yet said so little. Or perhaps because he had never truly grasped the melancholy in her eyes. Or maybe because Ah Chu seemed to favor his body above all.
Yes, that was it.
Ah Chu coveted his body, his looks.
In all the years before, Helian Jin had never set much store by the beauty others praised so highly.
But after encountering Ah Chu, he found himself somewhat grateful that his appearance and form held some value after all.
Serving with beauty, however, could never last. Helian Jin knew well the fates that befell his Imperial Father’s concubines once age withered their allure.
He had never dreamed he would one day fret over such a thing.
He wanted Ah Chu’s heart.
But it was far too difficult.
Ah Chu’s world brimmed with so many things. Most often she painted, or sat lost in quiet thought, or bustled about with her tasks.
He was merely a part of her world—perhaps an insignificant part at that.
Yet he had only Ah Chu.
Nearly four years as husband and wife, and still Helian Jin felt her like a fairy suspended in the clouds.
Perhaps she had merely descended into his world to savor the mortal realm’s fleeting spring light.
While he was nothing more than a despicable, insignificant fool.
He had been consumed by a single-minded desire to tear the Fairy’s celestial robes from her body, to confine her boundless, eternal love within the fleeting span of his meager century.
Perhaps he had been wrong from the very start.
Perhaps the Fairy had sensed his greed and, as punishment, abandoned him.
His thoughts tangled into a chaotic mess.
At times, Ah Chu was the Fairy punishing him. At others, she was the wife who resented him. And at still others, she was the wandering soul waiting for him.
But who was Ah Chu, truly?
Helian Jin lay back down.
No matter who Ah Chu might be, he would forever be her husband—whether as one of many or her one and only.
Ah Chu… sweet dreams.
Helian Jin drifted off to sleep once more.
Yun Jichu moved her finger to the “Continue Playing from Save” option.
She hesitated for a moment before clicking it.
When she opened her eyes again, it was another deep midnight. She covered them with her hand first, sniffing the air carefully.
A faint lotus fragrance mingled with the cool scent of a summer night.
No stench of blood.
She parted her fingers just a sliver, her lashes trembling as she peeked out. Her eyes darted around.
In this manner, she kept her hand over her face, peering through the narrow gap while twisting her body to survey her surroundings. Only then did she exhale a long breath of relief and lower her hand.
The area was safe. No blood!
A chill prickled her spine. Yun Jichu turned and realized she was standing right in front of the window from which she had fallen three days prior.
She closed it with utmost care.
Returning to the site of the incident—even without the overwhelming tide of blood, the familiar furnishings and layout stirred those horrifying memories, which crept back over her bit by bit.
Yun Jichu hugged her arms tightly, shaking off the thoughts crowding her mind.
Her fever had only just broken, and her body was still frail. She needed to hurry back to the Zichen Side Hall.
Suddenly, an image of Helian Jin flashed in her thoughts.
Should she check on him first?
But it was the dead of night. He must already be asleep.
Those glaring red characters from before the load had filled her with dread.
No matter what, she decided, she would go see Helian Jin first.
Even a distant glimpse from the window of Zichen Hall would do.
Yun Jichu stepped forward, skirting around the writing desk.
Eh… She stopped in her tracks.
By the faint moonlight, she bent down to examine the object on the desk.
It was a painting—one she had made just days ago.
In it, Ah Huan and Ah Nian ran about flying kites amid dancing willow branches, the spring scenery at its most vibrant.
But hadn’t Helian Jin torn this painting to shreds?
She leaned in closer and saw the winding seams where it had been meticulously pieced back together.
He had reassembled it.
When had he gathered these fragments?
The day she woke, there had been no scraps in sight. She had assumed Lady Shuxiu had cleaned them away, yet here they were.
Yun Jichu gazed at it again and again. Suddenly, she recalled her childhood, after returning from the beach. She had glued together the shells she collected, crafting a beautiful artwork.
Her mother had treasured that painting, keeping it free of even a speck of dust until Yun Jichu discovered it while sorting through her belongings.
Her fingers lightly traced the surface, the texture at her fingertips evoking the ridges of those shells.
She lingered for a while before moving on, though her mind still dwelled on it.
She approached the bed, intending to check if the Little Tiger Doll had been splattered with blood.
The bed curtains hung loosely, seeming even thicker than the last time she had seen them.
Yun Jichu gently lifted one aside, and her heart skipped a beat.