In the spring of the fourth year of the Shenglin era, a fine drizzle fell from overcast skies.
The Luanyi Pavilion of Crown Princess Yang Fu, once the most opulent palace hall in the Daming Palace, now had half its candles and floor lamps extinguished, with palace maids long since dismissed. The incense burners that had run dry and the gilt decorative vessels were covered with a layer of desolate, declining shadow.
Ten days ago, the Crown Prince had been thrown into the imperial prison. Emperor Chenming had fallen ill in haste, and Prince Yan, the Emperor’s third son, had barely removed his armor before sitting upon the throne with a clatter. Rumor had it that Prince Yan was bloodthirsty, and the entire palace trembled beneath his shadow, unable to predict this new emperor’s temperament.
The Crown Prince hadn’t died, and Prince Yan hadn’t acted with complete abandon—except for frequently summoning the confined Crown Princess to the Liangyi Hall to copy Buddhist scriptures and pray for Emperor Chenming’s recovery.
Yang Fu was a princess of the former dynasty, educated and versed in Sanskrit.
However, the carriage bearing the terrified Yang Fu would only return past noon, and with each return came later than the last. Gossip among the cleaning palace servants spread like wildfire.
Some said they’d seen the Crown Princess weak-legged and unable to walk, carried back by her wardrobe maids.
Others said that Prince Yan’s prayers were merely pretense, his personal revenge the truth—because years ago when the state of Chu fell, Prince Yan had sought to marry the beautiful Princess Bao’an, but Yang Fu had ultimately rejected him to marry the Crown Prince instead. Prince Yan didn’t believe in gods or Buddha anyway, so now that he held great power, he imprisoned his imperial brother and claimed his sister-in-law. After all, this wasn’t the first time he’d acted this way…
The gossip grew increasingly ugly. Qun Qing could listen no longer and struck the window lattice forcefully.
The “thud” startled like a stone thrown at sparrows. The whispered rumors at the base of the wall scattered in alarm, while the sound of knuckles against lattice lingered endlessly.
Inside the hall, the water clock dripped—drip, drop—like a countdown, synchronizing with Qun Qing’s disordered heartbeat. She stared unblinking at the palace path, completely ignoring the pain seeping into her bones.
Finally, Qun Qing saw that figure with the high chignon and jacket-skirt running back along the palace path, calling out as she ran: “Qun Siji! Qun Siji! This servant has returned!”
It was Xiang Cao, Yang Fu’s wardrobe maid.
Before Xiang Cao could approach, Qun Qing pushed open the window. Her first glance fell on that rosewood box still sealed and clutched in Xiang Cao’s arms. Her heart grew half cold: “You didn’t see the Crown Princess?”
“No. There were so many armored men outside Liangyi Hall—护 护guards from Prince Yan’s mansion. They wouldn’t let palace servants enter. This servant said she was delivering medicine to the Crown Princess, but they still wouldn’t allow it.” Xiang Cao spoke with a tearful voice. “They only relayed a message saying that three volumes of Buddhist scriptures remained incomplete, and His Highness Prince Yan would keep the Crown Princess for a meal to continue this afternoon. It’s already past noon—who knows if the Crown Princess’s body can endure…”
Qun Qing’s expression froze for an instant: “Today there were mansion troops surrounding the hall entrance?”
Xiang Cao wiped the sweat from her face: “Yes. They said that when Prince Yan supervised the state, he ordered an attack on Nan Chu, and spies from Nan Chu in the palace heard the news and desperately lashed out. Recently there have been three or four assassination attempts, so these past days, wherever His Highness Prince Yan goes, protective guards accompany him closely. That’s what they say, but…”
Xiang Cao glanced fearfully around, then suddenly stopped, looking as if she might cry. “Siji, this servant is terrified something happened inside the hall. Tell me—could the Crown Princess have angered Prince Yan somehow, alarming so many mansion troops? Otherwise, why wouldn’t they let this servant see the Crown Princess?”
Qun Qing stared at her with jet-black eyes: “I asked you to remind the Crown Princess to return early to take her medicine. Did the Crown Princess send a reply?”
“Yes.” Xiang Cao calmed somewhat. “The Crown Princess had someone relay to this servant that… she knows, and will return once the copying is complete.”
Qun Qing was silent for a moment, then dismissed her: “Since the Crown Princess said so, there’s no need to worry.”
“This servant frightens herself too easily.” Xiang Cao lifted her skirts to leave, then suddenly turned back with a smile. “Siji has come to Luanyi Pavilion to teach only a few times, yet you’ve already memorized the times when the Crown Princess takes her daily medicine. Since the palace servants were reduced, this servant has been busy as a spinning top. If not for your reminder, even I, her maid, would have forgotten to deliver medicine to the Crown Princess.”
Qun Qing seemed slightly surprised, but this surprise was quickly concealed beneath her crow-black lashes. She curved her lips almost imperceptibly in acknowledgment.
The female officials of the Six Offices were mostly composed and unsmiling. Their intelligence, learning, and career ambitions rivaling those of men left them with virtually no common language with palace maids. Qun Qing was particularly taciturn among them, quietly arriving with her box and departing with it, yet Xiang Cao sensed none of that inscrutable coldness and arrogance from her.
Once, Xiang Cao had exchanged tokens with a young man she fancied in the front courtyard. It was Qun Qing’s thrown stone that warned her, preventing Zhu Shangyi from catching them. Since then, Xiang Cao had determined she was someone cold-faced but warm-hearted.
If not a person of feeling, she wouldn’t continue teaching the Crown Princess as before when the Crown Prince was confined and everyone avoided him like plague.
Only in these past months, Qun Siji had grown thinner day by day, as if bearing some heavy burden on her heart.
Xiang Cao glanced at the empty sleeping chamber, wanting to help: “Will Siji still wait for the Crown Princess? Won’t it delay your later duties? Should this servant make another trip to Liangyi Hall to ask…”
“No need for your meddling.” Qun Qing abruptly cut her off. “Just attend to your assigned duties.”
Xiang Cao bit her lip and withdrew.
Qun Qing closed the window, her face instantly becoming pale and tense. She spread paper and gripped her brush with terrifyingly hasty movements. The sky outside grew darker, the window light insufficient to illuminate the characters on the paper, as if heavy rain approached.
Just mansion troops surrounding the hall had already sparked unpleasant associations in Xiang Cao.
If this little maid knew that Crown Princess Yang Fu had gone today precisely to assassinate Prince Yan, she’d likely faint from fright on the spot.
Now Yang Fu was like meat on a chopping block, detained in Liangyi Hall with layers of mansion troops surrounding it—no matter how one looked at it, this was no auspicious sign.
Qun Qing stared at the paper as calmly as possible, suddenly thinking this might be the last letter she left for the princess. At this thought, she bit through her index finger, squeezing out bright red droplets to write in blood.
Amid piercing pain, a sudden wave of nausea surged from her lungs, soaking her clothing with sweat.
Since the failed assassination at winter solstice, her grave injuries hadn’t healed. Her body had reached its limit, frequently experiencing sensations of approaching death. Qun Qing endured the dizziness, her characters slightly crooked.
Over these years, Nan Chu’s hope of national restoration had vanished. Da Chen had devoured them bite by bite, finally reaching this last step where even Princess Bao’an was sacrificed.
In truth, Nan Chu’s people had long wanted to make use of Princess Bao’an. Though Prince Yan possessed imperial talent, he had one enormous weakness: his obsession with Princess Bao’an. Disregarding her status as a princess of the former dynasty and her marriage to the current Crown Prince, his judgment clouded by lust—this was an exploitable opportunity. They should persuade Princess Bao’an to feign submission to Prince Yan, then seek future opportunities to steal the state. Could there be any easier method?
But Qun Qing didn’t want the princess to submit herself.
Yang Fu had already lost her state and family. To also humble herself pleasing a man she detested—what heart-piercing agony would that be? Qun Qing chose the most foolish method. She never relayed this suggestion to the princess. All bloody matters, she handled personally.
Princess Bao’an lived peacefully in the palace. She married as she wished the young lord Li Xuan whom she’d loved since childhood, becoming Crown Princess.
The Crown Prince governed with warmth and benevolence. Had he become the new emperor, he might have allowed Nan Chu a corner of peace and recuperation for the princess’s sake. Unfortunately, within a few years, the Crown Prince was maneuvered by Prince Yan into the imperial prison. Prince Yan excelled at warfare. His first act upon seizing power was personally leading troops to attack Nan Chu, completing the unification of the central plains.
Crown Prince Zhao of Nan Chu panicked completely. Bypassing Qun Qing, he used a family letter to assign the mission directly to Princess Bao’an.
“I received Imperial Brother Zhao’s letter.” That night, Yang Fu’s tears fell in streams. She leaned in to embrace Qun Qing, the princess’s body ice-cold and heavy like a jade sculpture collapsing onto her, pressing until she couldn’t breathe. “I am ultimately a nation’s princess. Li Huan treating me this way, treating me like this… If I endure even this humiliation, how can I face Father Emperor, Elder Sister, the ancestral temple and state?”
“And you, Qing Qing—when you returned that time, bleeding so much, you terrified me.” Yang Fu cried in her ear. “Qing Qing, only you remain to me. Without you, surrounded by wolves and tigers, what will I do hereafter? Li Huan has eight sworn guards around him. To get close to him, won’t you shed a layer of skin? But I can approach him conveniently. Isn’t he asking me to copy scriptures? I’m willing to do this—please stop frightening me with talk of limited time…”
Unable to dissuade the princess, Qun Qing treated this assassination as a desperate gamble. She personally removed the poison pearl her mother had left her, affixed it inside the princess’s long nail sheath, and taught her how to poison Li Huan subtly before escaping unharmed.
However, though planning seemed simple, execution proved difficult.
Li Huan was a battle-hardened military man, while Princess Bao’an was a sheltered flower who had never once attempted assassination. When she didn’t return, Qun Qing knew trouble—she feared some flaw exposed, allowing Li Huan to see through it.
Sending Xiang Cao to deliver medicine to Princess Bao’an was merely sending a coded inquiry about the princess’s safety—a code she and Yang Fu had agreed upon.