After the terrifying nights at the mountain villa, both Zhao Cai and Ruyi felt a jolt in their hearts at the sight of it. Ruyi was about to laugh it off and discreetly toss the offending pastry away — but to her astonishment, Ming Huashang reached out as though she had noticed nothing unusual, and picked it up first.
Zhao Cai was just about to say something when Ming Huashang had already bitten off half of the “eyeball.” Zhao Cai choked, and quietly closed her mouth.
Their young miss truly had an extraordinary appetite… Then again — however fearsome a monster might be, it had once been a bird or a beast. Eating it was the end of that.
Ming Huashang ate with every appearance of enjoyment. In truth, she had noticed the unusual shape of the pastry. She simply felt that she ought not to bring such inauspicious things back home — better to be done with it on the road.
But there was something Ming Huashang could not quite understand. Prince Wei and Prince Ding had wanted to manufacture a tale of the supernatural, and there were so many ways that could manifest. Why had they specifically chosen to gouge out eyes?
Eyes — or rather, the act of gouging them out — what did it represent?
Ming Huashang could not work it out. She could only take another bite of the eye-shaped pastry.
Clear, crisp hoofbeats sounded outside the carriage, and then a clean, cool voice came through the curtain. “Second Miss.”
Ming Huashang responded, quickly wiped the pastry crumbs from the corner of her mouth, and lifted the curtain. “I’m here. Second Elder Brother, what is it?”
Ming Huazhang rode his horse alongside the carriage with one hand on the reins. Behind him stretched jagged, weathered rocks and mountains blanketed in snow. In his dark violet round-collar robe, his form cut a tall and upright line — like a deliberate brushstroke drawn by heaven itself. He glanced briefly at the corner of Ming Huashang’s mouth and said, “Second Miss — do not speak of what happened at the mountain villa after you return. Not to anyone — not even to Father.”
Ming Huashang nodded. “I understand.”
“And the matter of you reading the killer’s state of mind,” Ming Huazhang continued. “I do not know where this ability of yours comes from, but it is not a good thing. Those who kill are vicious and ruthless. Immersing yourself in their thoughts is no righteous path. From now on, you are not to use that method again.”
Ming Huashang made a small, dissatisfied sound and felt a twinge of regret. But then she thought — using that method again would mean a new violent death had occurred near her. In light of that, never needing to use it again would be a good thing.
Ming Huashang sighed faintly and nodded, albeit a little sluggishly. “All right.”
After she agreed, Ming Huazhang did not relax. His expression remained stern. “Even if there is no murder case, do not display this in front of others either. Be careful with your words, be discreet in your actions, do not draw attention to yourself, and take care not to become someone’s target.”
Ming Huashang thought to herself that Ming Huazhang had an overly high opinion of her. She was such an unremarkable person — who on earth would bother to target her? She said playfully, “Second Elder Brother, you can set your mind at ease on that count. I am so thoroughly mediocre in both letters and arms that I could not stand out even if I tried to.”
Ming Huazhang looked at her laughing face and knew she had not taken his words to heart. How could someone like her — a young lady who knew nothing beyond this — imagine that Luoyang, behind its Wanxiang Divine Palace and its bustling streets and markets, concealed an entire other half swallowed in darkness?
Ming Huazhang inwardly let out a long breath. He told himself: let it go. These matters were never hers to worry about anyway. For her, a lifetime of good food, good drink, laughter and friends was more than enough.
---
·
Luoyang. The Purple Subtlety Palace. The Inner Court.
The Empress finished reading the topmost memorial, raised her hand, and Shangguan Wan’er immediately stepped forward to help her to her feet.
The Empress was well advanced in years, and she no longer had the tireless iron constitution of her youth. After reading memorials for only half an hour, she already felt stifled and weary.
Shangguan Wan’er had served at the Empress’s side for many years, and reading moods was among her greatest skills. Seeing that the Empress was tired, she said considerately, “Your Majesty, the plum blossoms at the Lichun Pavilion are in magnificent bloom at the moment. Might Your Majesty wish to take a turn there to refresh herself?”
The Empress let out a quiet sound of assent. Shangguan Wan’er attended her, and with a great retinue of palace servants and female officials in their wake, accompanied the Empress toward the imperial garden.
Luoyang had just had a heavy snowfall a few days ago. Eunuchs had swept the paths that noble persons would walk, but the rooftops, corners, and treetops were still laden with snow. As far as the eye could see, the palace of Purple Subtlety stretched endlessly in every direction, like something from beyond the mortal world.
The Empress walked along a lofty covered walkway of white marble, with upturned eaves and interlocking brackets on both sides, red columns layered one upon another, and countless silent attendants following in her wake.
She was already past seventy. At that age, ordinary people would have long since grown muddled and forgetful. But the Empress’s step remained firm and vigorous, her gaze sharp and penetrating. The highest power of the empire rested in her hands, and not a single person dared regard her as a mere old woman.
As the Empress admired the snow, she remarked in a seemingly offhand manner, “I hear that not long ago, a palace girl from Prince Luling’s residence died?”
Shangguan Wan’er felt a tremor in her heart. She carefully studied the Empress’s expression, but the Empress was utterly composed — even the lines at the corners of her mouth were as unfathomable as ever.
Shangguan Wan’er looked away and calculated furiously, yet she could not pause for too long. At last she answered with great care, “Your Majesty, that is indeed the case. With the cold weather and the extraordinary snowfall this year, palace servants with little resistance to the cold — losing one or two to illness is not unusual.”
The Empress gave a slight nod and asked again, “And Taiping — has she returned?”
These two questions had nothing to do with each other on the surface, and yet Shangguan Wan’er felt with certainty they were not coincidental.
Their Empress never spoke idle words. The Empress had asked about Prince Luling, then abruptly moved to Princess Taiping. Was it because of something Princess Taiping had written in her letter from a few days ago?
Shangguan Wan’er could not be sure what Princess Taiping had written, and could only weigh her words as she replied, “The Imperial Guards reported yesterday that the mountain snow has been cleared. I expect the Princess will be back in the capital by this afternoon at the latest.”
The Empress made a sound of acknowledgment and said no more. But Shangguan Wan’er felt gripped with apprehension. Why was the Empress asking these things? Could it be that the Empress had discovered she had once passed a message to Princess Taiping?
That surely should not be the case — she had been exceptionally careful. Could it be that the Zhang brothers had planted a spy near her and reported her?
For the remainder of the walk, Shangguan Wan’er felt as though she were treading on knives, yet she was still obliged to keep a pleasant expression and say charming things to amuse whoever held power over her. The Empress was advanced in years, and the wind tired her quickly. They never reached the Lichun Pavilion in the end — after spending a short while at the Guanwen Hall, they turned back.
Upon returning to the Xuanzheng Hall, Shangguan Wan’er had no time to rest before she was already bringing the Empress hot tea to warm her. The Empress accepted the cup, took a small sip, and said, “Have Prince Luling summoned.”
Shangguan Wan’er was startled. She instinctively felt a swell of joy, then quickly suppressed it and bowed with solemn composure. “As you command.”
---
The world knew that the Empress now had only two living sons. Her youngest — the heir apparent — was confined to the palace depths, and her third son, Prince Luling, had been banished to Luling and was living under house arrest, in confinement and uncertainty. What the world did not know was that before the new year, the Empress had secretly summoned Prince Luling back to the capital.
Very few people were privy to this. Shangguan Wan’er was one of them. Upon receiving the information, she had immediately arranged for a palace girl to go and inform Princess Taiping. Fatally, the palace girl was dead not long afterward.
This had filled Shangguan Wan’er with dread for some time. She did not believe the girl’s death was accidental, yet she could not understand why the girl had been killed. She had remained on guard, waiting for the person behind it to make a second move — but she waited and waited, and right up until today, there had been no further action from the other side.
Shangguan Wan’er could not make sense of it, but she understood the Empress’s mind even less.
The Empress’s heart was deeper than any needle in the ocean floor. With one hand she had pulled her youngest son down from the throne, imprisoned him in the palace, and forbade him from seeing anyone — yet with the other hand she had declared him heir apparent. Now the same pattern was appearing with Prince Luling: the Empress had secretly summoned him to the capital, yet had continued to put off receiving him.
This game of truth and deception, of presence and illusion, had left even Shangguan Wan’er — who had served her for over a decade — utterly bewildered. Fortunately, before Shangguan Wan’er could frighten herself to death with her own speculation, the Empress had finally agreed to see Prince Luling.
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