Yun Jichu didn’t dare think any further.
She carefully put away the jade slip and brush before sitting back down at the desk, her heart weighed down by heavy thoughts.
She picked up the brush and set it to paper, only to make another mistake.
With a sigh, Yun Jichu tore off the sheet and tossed it aside.
Using blood as ink—was it for painting or writing?
It was definitely not for painting. Several years ago, she had learned that Helian Jin wasn’t skilled at art, but he did have a fine hand for calligraphy.
But what words could possibly require blood drawn from his own chest?
She didn’t even want to picture the scene. Anything touched by blood filled her with dread.
Helian Jin had kept Ah Huan and Ah Nian completely in the dark about it. Only Ah Nian had some vague inkling of the wound.
If she wanted answers, Cui Cheng was probably her only source.
But Cui Cheng was unflinchingly loyal. They hadn’t spoken in years, and he was always going on about his principles and moral cultivation these days. He wouldn’t accept so much as a single coin.
Getting anything out of him would be no easy task.
Yun Jichu summoned Lady Shuxiu.
“Has His Majesty kept any close companions all these years?”
Lady Shuxiu hurried to reassure her. “Please don’t worry, Your Ladyship. His Majesty hasn’t touched a woman in all that time. You are—”
“That’s not what I meant,” Yun Jichu clarified. “I mean, does His Majesty have anyone he truly trusts at his side?”
Lady Shuxiu paused to think. “Eunuch Cui has been with His Majesty since their days in the Prince’s Mansion. He enjoys His Majesty’s complete confidence.”
“Anyone else?”
“Before you became Empress, when His Majesty was mourning the late Empress, he widely recruited Daoists and filled the palace with soul-summoning rituals, memorial services, and the like.”
Yun Jichu had heard bits and pieces, but she had no idea it had gone to such extremes.
Lady Shuxiu went on. “One of them was a Wandering Daoist named Wei Shan. His Majesty trusted him deeply and often summoned him to discuss matters of ghosts and spirits.”
“Wei Shan?” Yun Jichu straightened up in her seat. “I’d almost forgotten about him. Where is he now?”
“He’s dead.”
“How did he die so suddenly?” Could her errant hairpin thrust have somehow finished him off?
Lady Shuxiu shook her head. “No one knows the cause. He dropped dead out of nowhere, and his body was cremated right away.”
Yun Jichu knew she didn’t have that kind of power. Even if the wound had festered and led to infection, he would have lingered and died slowly—not dropped dead on the spot.
“When did it happen?”
“If I recall correctly, it was around the time of your prolonged high fever.”
That was when Wei Shan had used Yun Shen to blackmail her, forcing her to feign illness and trick Helian Jin into harvesting heart blood from Ah Huan and Ah Nian to nourish…
Blinded by rage at the time, she hadn’t thought it through. But why had Wei Shan been so certain Helian Jin would commit such a heartless act?
Perhaps because Helian Jin was already doing it himself.
If he could bring himself to harm his own body, what was to stop him from harming others?
In Wei Shan’s eyes, imperial families were places where blood ties ran thin. Sibling rivalries and father-son conflicts were commonplace. Taking a child’s heart blood to satisfy one’s whims must have seemed utterly trivial.
But that was impossible.
Helian Jin had raised Ah Huan and Ah Nian with his own hands. Yun Jichu couldn’t know the full extent of his struggles, but she could well imagine them.
The children had grown to five years old, healthy in body and spirit. Word was that every day after court, aside from state affairs, Helian Jin devoted himself to their company.
Yun Jichu couldn’t speak for anyone else, but she was absolutely certain Helian Jin would never hurt Ah Huan or Ah Nian.
Would he hurt himself, though?
She had no idea.
Had Wei Shan’s sudden death come because Helian Jin discovered his designs on Ah Huan and Ah Nian?
And what about before that? Had Helian Jin simply turned a blind eye?
Was he drawing his own blood to nourish some departed soul?
It was the height of summer. Cicadas droned outside the window, and Lady Shuxiu gently fanned her, sending cool breezes to chase away the sweltering heat.
Yet Yun Jichu felt a bone-deep chill.
How had Helian Jin endured the past five years?
It was the first time the question truly struck her.
She had spent her own five years immersed in her career. Lonely at times, yes, but never tormented—save for that one stumble during her promotion, when someone had tripped her up.
What about Helian Jin?
He was more than just a devoted ruler and father. That much was clear.
The casual phrase everyone uttered—”His Majesty misses the late Empress”—had suddenly taken on far more weight than its seven simple words.
“Where is His Majesty?”
“After court, he went first to Penglai Hall, then to Yanying Hall for a meeting. He likely won’t return until this afternoon.”
“I’m going to him.”
Lady Shuxiu glanced outside with concern. “The sun’s at its fiercest right now, Your Ladyship. Why not wait here in the hall?”
She knew Yun Jichu hated riding in palanquins. If she rushed out now, she’d end up running the whole way.
Yun Jichu waved her off. “I’m fine. Help me get dressed.”
Back in the day, she’d run eight hundred meters under a blistering sun and still taken first place.
The only frustrating part was that Qin Xiao had run a thousand meters and claimed first as well.
No matter what, she needed to see Helian Jin right away and convince him to cast aside these superstitious notions once and for all.
In Yanying Hall, General Yu was in the midst of reporting on the situation in Funan.
Suddenly, Cui Cheng burst into the hall, his face etched with panic. He even tripped over his own feet as he hurried forward.
His Majesty raised a hand.
General Yu fell silent at once and stood off to the side.
Cui Cheng rushed up to him, bowed low, and whispered urgently into the Emperor’s ear. “Just now, the Empress went to Shouning Palace. They forced her to drink contraceptive soup!”
The Emperor’s expression shifted in an instant. He shot to his feet with such force that he swept books and jade brushes crashing to the floor.
General Yu had no idea what the crisis was, but for Eunuch Cui to risk his life barging into the hall like this, it had to be a matter that could shake the heavens.
He didn’t dare glance at the Emperor’s face and kept his own head bowed low.
“You—withdraw for now.”
The Emperor flung out those words, snatched something from nearby, and strode out of the hall.
Cui Cheng didn’t even pause to gather up the scattered books. He tossed a hasty salute to General Yu and dashed after him.
The midday sun blazed mercilessly. Cui Cheng urged the palace servants behind them to raise their obstructing fans and curved parasols as he jogged to keep pace with His Majesty.
His Majesty felt none of the heat, though. A chilling aura radiated from his entire body, his lips pressed into a tight line.
“How is the Empress now?”
Cui Cheng quickly dragged Feng Rang forward.
“Reporting to Your Majesty,” Feng Rang said in a rush, “the Empress left Shouning Palace looking perfectly normal, with no sign of distress. When this slave departed Zichen Hall just now, I saw Her Ladyship chatting idly with Lady Shuxiu at her side.”
The heavy tension in the air eased a fraction. Cui Cheng asked, “Shall Your Majesty return to Zichen Hall first?”
“To Shouning Palace.” Whatever the medicine had been, he needed answers first.
In Shouning Palace, Su Qiu came running and flung herself at the Empress Dowager’s feet.
“Your Ladyship, His Majesty is here!”
Yu Rumei shifted into a more comfortable position, reclining on her soft couch as she sipped her flower tea. “If he’s here, he’s here. What’s there to panic about?”
“He has a sword! He’s coming with a sword!”
Before Su Qiu could finish, the grand hall’s doors flew open with a thunderous kick.
In the blinding sunlight, the doors shuddered from the impact, stirring a thin haze of dust into the air.
Silhouetted against the light, the Emperor’s blade gleamed with a razor-sharp flash.
Rage burned in his eyes.
Startled, Yu Rumei bolted upright on her couch. The flower tea slipped from her grasp and shattered across the floor.
“You…”
“Unfilial wretch!”
Su Qiu trembled violently and threw herself in front of Yu Rumei. Meng Dong hurried over at the sight.
“Mother Empress.” The Emperor’s voice was frigid, echoing the blood-soaked night three years past.
He advanced slowly.
“What did you force Ah Chu to drink?”
So that was it!
Yu Rumei stared at the sword drawing ever nearer, her body shaking. “Red jujube tea! It was red jujube tea!”
The Emperor let out a cold sneer. He leveled his sword at the quivering Su Qiu on the ground, his gaze dark and predatory as it fixed on Yu Rumei.
“Does Mother Empress think Zhen will believe that?”
He took another step forward, the blade’s tip hovering at Su Qiu’s throat.
From his commanding height, the Emperor swept his eyes over the three women, regarding them like so many lifeless corpses with no connection to him whatsoever.
Yu Rumei sat frozen in place, her breaths coming short and ragged. Her fingers dug viciously into the silk of the couch, but calm eluded her.
This was a threat—directed at her!
The Emperor had led his armies himself to wipe out the Xuluo Clan. Word was that its decadent, debauched nobles had all perished in a single night, her own father among them.
He had never accepted his Xuluo blood. He despised the clan with every fiber of his being, enough to eradicate it personally.
And her? She was Xuluo too. She carried the very bloodline he loathed.
“Jin’er…” Yu Rumei broke into wrenching sobs. “Are you truly going to kill Mother?”
The Emperor gave no sign he’d heard her. “What exactly did you force her to drink?”
Su Qiu went rigid. “Red jujube tea—it really was red jujube tea!”
The Emperor sneered again. “Does Mother Empress take Zhen for a fool?”
“It was red jujube tea, truly! If the Emperor doesn’t believe me, search the place yourself!” Tears streamed down Yu Rumei’s face.
Just then, Cui Cheng emerged holding a teapot. “Your Majesty, we found it!”
He pried off the lid, sniffed, and—mustering his courage—took a few gulps.
“Red jujube flavor. Sweet!”
Yu Rumei watched him ease the sword back a touch and softened her tone. “I was only testing the waters a little. Must the Emperor make such a fuss…”
The Emperor made no move to sheathe his blade. Instead, he glanced at Cui Cheng.
Cui Cheng understood at once. Sweat pouring down his face, he proffered the teapot to the Empress Dowager and said with a quiver, “Please, Your Ladyship—have some tea.”
The Emperor wouldn’t rest until she drank it herself.
Yu Rumei sputtered in fury. “Insolent! Utterly insolent! Why should I drink this?”
The Emperor chuckled softly. “If anything happens to Ah Chu, Zhen will show no mercy to a soul in this grand hall.”
A soul—naturally including her.
Grief and resentment warred in her heart: resentment at her son’s filial impiety, resentment at her own birth. She lifted the teapot and drained every last drop of the jujube tea.
Then she hurled it to the floor.
Porcelain exploded in a spray of shards across the ground.
She spat hatefully, “I lied to her and said it was contraceptive soup! Who would have thought she’d drink it down without the slightest hesitation!”
“She never intended to bear your child in the first place!”
The Emperor sheathed his sword, his expression inscrutable as he shot a sidelong glance at Yu Rumei. “Zhen and Ah Chu already have a child. If she doesn’t want to leave a descendant behind, then she won’t.”
Yu Rumei had been scared out of her wits earlier that day. Now that she had relaxed a little, words spilled from her lips without restraint.
“Do you really think she’s the Chu Chu from all those years ago? Have you lost your mind? She’s long dead. All you’ve found now is a stand-in to keep you company!”
Yu Rumei knew this was a raw wound in the Emperor’s heart, and she stabbed at it mercilessly with her sharp words.
Yet those words failed to pierce him.
On the contrary, the Emperor looked at her as if she were a fool. “Zhen cannot make you see reason.”
“In any case, you are forbidden from summoning Ah Chu from now on. If there’s a next time and you force her to drink or eat anything, don’t blame Zhen for showing no mercy.”
Yu Rumei cried out, “I am your mother!”
The Emperor rubbed his temple and sneered. “Zhen knows. That’s why Zhen has been tolerant in every matter.”
He grew serious. “But even tolerance has its limits.”
The Emperor turned to leave.
But Yu Rumei pointed at him frantically and demanded, “I was wrong back then, but I had my reasons—unavoidable ones. Jin’er…”
“Back then? Does Mother Empress mean the palace maid in Penglai Hall who tried to assassinate Ah Huan? Or the eunuch in Shaoyang Hall who slipped poison into Ah Nian’s cup?” The Emperor did not turn around as he asked her coldly.
Neither.
Yu Rumei shook her head. She was referring to what had happened to Helian Jin in his youth, but he seemed to have forgotten it long ago.
Those events she had mulled over for years, like a fishbone lodged in her throat, appeared in his life as nothing more than a minor jolt.
The Emperor strode out of Shouning Palace.
He tossed the sword in his hand to Cui Cheng. “Put it away. Don’t let it be seen.”