Xie Yuzhang left the imperial garden, and with every step she took, it was as though she could still feel the pain in her right ankle.
It had truly hurt so much at the time. A blade severing the tendon, blood flowing freely.
By the time Lin Fei found her, she had already lost consciousness. When she woke again, the wound had been bandaged, and what she had to face was Lin Fei’s eyes, swollen red from weeping.
Don’t cry, Xie Yuzhang had said, smiling instead. Now it will be quiet.
She walked with a limp after that. She could no longer dance for anyone — and no one would think to ask her to dance any longer.
She had not wanted to dance. In Mobei, she had danced far too many times. For the old Khan, for Xia’erdan, for Wuwei.
She had long since had enough of dancing.
Having barely made it back to Yunjing, granted life by the new Emperor and given a path forward, she wanted only to live in quiet and peace.
Even if it meant eating rough food — that would have been fine. What was more, although Xiaoyao Marquis Manor was under strict watch, the former imperial family had never been denied in their clothing, food, or shelter. Even if only for the sake of a few favorable lines in the history books, one could see the new Emperor’s benevolence.
If sacrificing one tendon meant she could live quietly and peacefully, tucked away in Xiaoyao Marquis Manor, Xie Yuzhang was willing.
Xie Yuzhang strode quickly into Zhaoxia Palace, and at the sight of Lin Fei’s porcelain-fair face and softly curved, smiling eyes coming toward her, the emotions that had been slamming and twisting inside her chest all along the way suddenly stilled.
She stared at Lin Fei.
Lin Fei’s cheeks were still full and rounded, her skin still carrying a healthy glow. Nothing like the later days when, in caring for and protecting Xie Yuzhang, she had poured out her heart’s blood until she was nothing but bone.
None of it had happened yet! Neither of them had yet suffered those injuries, endured that pain!
No, no — those were things from a previous life! She had been reborn, given a fresh start. Why would she have to live through it all again? Was she going to sit with her hands folded in her lap just because she already knew the direction fate was heading?
No — that would never do!
“What is wrong? Why did you come in so quickly?” Lin Fei asked in surprise.
Xie Yuzhang followed her gaze back and realized only then that the delicate palace maids were slightly breathless from trying to keep pace with her.
“Too hot. I wanted to get back quickly,” Xie Yuzhang said, brushing it off.
Lin Fei reproached her gently: “Why did you not take the palanquin?”
Back in the cool room with its ice basins, Lin Fei said: “The Fifth Prince came by earlier. The glass beads you mentioned before — he has had someone make them and specially brought them over, but you were out.”
She called a palace maid to bring over a sandalwood box, lifted the lid, and inside lay a full box of glass beads in every color.
Glass was difficult to make, and producing a full box of nearly perfectly round beads must have required a great many failures and rejects.
She had only glanced at the Emperor’s glass cup and said offhandedly to the Fifth Prince that glass would look just like precious stones if made into beads — and the Fifth Prince had actually had it done.
That had been seven or eight months ago.
“Fifth Brother…” Xie Yuzhang said absently.
Since the day she was reborn three days ago, she had been huddled in Zhaoxia Palace. She had even pretended to sleep when the Emperor came — let alone seeing anyone else.
Beyond the people of Zhaoxia Palace, today was the first time since her rebirth that she had stepped outside and encountered others.
Xie Yuzhang lowered her eyes. “I will go thank Fifth Brother later.”
But Lin Fei said: “The Crown Prince also sent someone to ask after you. I replied that you were ‘feeling better.’ Your Highness should go thank him when you have the chance.”
Xie Yuzhang understood Lin Fei’s intent.
Compared to the Crown Prince, she had always been closer to her fifth elder brother — and in her earlier years, without a shred of scheming in her, she had probably made it far too obvious. In Lin Fei’s view, the Crown Prince was the one who would one day inherit the throne, and no matter how deeply the Emperor doted on Xie Yuzhang now, for the sake of her future, how could she afford not to remain close to the Crown Prince?
And these people…
Xie Yuzhang let her eyes fall.
Don’t think about it, she told herself. None of that has happened.
No — more accurately, all of that was the business of a “previous life.” She had been reborn this time around — she absolutely could not let everything remain unchanged.
Xie Yuzhang raised her head and smiled. “All right.”
Lin Fei, pleased that she had taken the advice, brightened and asked about Li Ming’s two adopted sons.
“Both quite tall,” Xie Yuzhang said. “One sturdier, one leaner.”
“Northern men naturally tend toward height,” Lin Fei said.
“Ah-Fei,” Xie Yuzhang asked, “is the Military Governor of Hexi the one with the most troops?”
“He is,” Lin Fei said.
She said it, and then sighed.
Lin Fei’s grandfather had died over a disagreement with Chancellor Zhang on military reform — a man of unyielding integrity, he had crashed his head against a pillar in the golden hall to remonstrate with the Emperor in the ultimate act of direct appeal.
In doing so he had infuriated the Emperor, and overnight the Lin Family of Yunjing City became prisoners.
“The central forces should command two hundred thousand troops, and the ten military governors together should hold another four hundred thousand — that is the full extent of Da Zhao’s military strength,” Xie Yuzhang said.
And of all of it, Hexi was the strongest. It was because Li Gu seized Hexi first that he had the resources to contend for the realm.
“Does the central force truly have as many as two hundred thousand?” Xie Yuzhang asked.
But Lin Fei said: “Why are you asking about this? It is not something we should be concerned with. What do you want to eat tonight?”
Xie Yuzhang grabbed her sleeve. “Ah-Fei, tell me.”