The smile froze on Madame Yan's face. She stood there in a daze, her mind reeling in brief horror and disbelief before she finally confirmed she had heard correctly—her father, the man exiled three thousand miles away, would not survive.
Her once radiant face turned as pale as her name: Ji Xue—"Snow Sent Forth."
"You rest in the earth, your bones dissolved to dust, and I dwell in the world, my hair turned white with snow."
That was the verse from which her father had drawn her name. Though tender in sentiment, it carried an aching sorrow and helplessness—much like herself at this very moment.
No. She was not powerless.
She was the Crown Prince's consort.
Yan Jixue collapsed to her knees, her eyes lifting to Li Zhang's face, her voice choked with desperate grief:
"Your Highness, please… I beg you… save him."
Li Zhang did not turn.
Sunlight cast a pale haze across his features, like a thin mask veiling his expression. As always, Yan Jixue could not read him. She never could.
"Save him?" he asked softly. "Then should I also save your stepmother, your siblings, your aunts? His Majesty has uncovered a capital crime punishable by the execution of an entire clan. Should I rescue them… or you?"
Tears welled in Yan Jixue's eyes. Her teeth bit down hard on her lip. When he finished speaking, she responded with unwavering resolve:
"I beg Your Highness to save my father. I am willing to give my life in exchange."
Her mother had died giving birth to her. Her father raised her single-handedly, then married her into the royal family. She had yet to repay a single shred of his kindness before he was cast away into exile.
Li Zhang turned at last, walking slowly toward her. He bent down, fingers brushing her cheek.
"Ah Xue," he said, voice tinged with quiet disappointment. "In your heart, there is only your father. Only your mother's family. Are you not afraid that if I intercede, I too will face my royal father's wrath?"
"Your Highness…" Yan Jixue sobbed. "You are the Crown Prince. Even if His Majesty is angered, he would never punish you."
"You don't understand the Emperor," he sighed, turning away.
The hem of his dark robe brushed against the corner of her skirt as he passed, eyes clouded like a man haunted by memories too painful to recall.
— "I was wrong. Please, Father, do not kill her."
He had been only fourteen then, kneeling in the grand Purple Hall, his entire body trembling.
But the Emperor, seated high above, said coldly:
"You plead for her life, yet do you know she has betrayed you?"
Li Zhang had frantically shaken his head.
And then came the Emperor's thunderous reply—shattering him.
"She claimed she remained pure, that you defiled her while she was drunk."
There are those, no matter how much trust or affection you offer them, who will still betray you.
And from that moment, Li Zhang had learned his first lesson—from his father, and from Lady Liu:
Those who betray the Li royal house must die.
With Lady Shun restored to health, she was once again required to pay morning respects in the Empress's palace and only afterward permitted to return to her own quarters for breakfast.
At dawn, the Hall of Orderly Governance echoed with the varied voices of concubines offering their greetings.
"Your servant greets the Empress. May Your Majesty enjoy eternal peace and health."
In the past, these consorts would accompany the Empress to visit the Dowager Empress as well. But the former Empress Dowager, wife of the late emperor, had passed away. The current Dowager Empress was His Majesty's birth mother—the Sacred Empress Dowager—who preferred tranquility and had waived the concubines' obligatory visits, save for the fifteenth day of each month.
When Lady Shun arrived at the Empress's quarters, the room was abuzz with laughter and chatter. The concubines were gathered before a newly mounted calligraphy scroll.
Upon seeing her enter, they gasped in surprise and delight:
"We thought it was just a rumor—so Lady Shun has recovered!"
The Empress, seated at the highest place, rose gracefully. Dignified and poised, she walked over, her gaze softening as she watched Lady Shun kneel with perfect decorum.
"It's been eight years," she said gently. "His Majesty and I have always kept you in our thoughts. At last, you've made a recovery worthy of praise."
Tears shimmered in Lady Shun's eyes as she bowed deeply.
"Your servant owes her recovery entirely to His Majesty's benevolence and Your Majesty's care, as well as the concern shown by the ladies of the palace."
The Empress nodded slowly.
"There are several new faces here. Take your time getting to know them. Don't overexert yourself."
At that moment, Bai Zhaoyi, first among the nine favored consorts, came over teasingly:
"Eight years bedridden, yet not a trace of aging—Lady Shun, come join us. We were admiring this new calligraphy."
The women clustered around the screen, showering compliments on the elegant script.
"What is this piece?" Lady Shun asked, standing before the scroll.
Though her beauty was undeniable, her confusion was apparent. She tried to read the opening:
"Jiu… Cheng… Gong…"
And then fell silent.
"It's the Jiucheng Palace Stele, copied by the Prince of Jin himself," said Bai Zhaoyi with a sly smile. "Surely you recognize it?"
Lady Shun's cheeks flushed as she stood awkwardly. Everyone knew she was not well-versed in scholarly arts—only capable of referencing a few historical anecdotes in conversation with the Emperor.
"Don't tease her," one of the ladies laughed, covering her mouth. "Lady Shun entered the palace for her beauty, unlike the rest of us who favor poetic refinement."
Bai Zhaoyi shook her head and pointed to the leftmost inscription.
"It's the Jiucheng Palace Liquan Inscription. The Prince of Jin captured Ouyang Xun's restrained and orderly style with astonishing precision. Truly admirable."
The concubines flocked around again—some offering flattery, others asking questions.
Bai Zhaoyi patiently explained each detail, appearing genuinely eager to help.
Lady Shun slipped out from the group and moved to stand beside the Empress, who remained smiling nearby.
"I hear His Majesty has granted you residence in Yunxue Pavilion," the Empress remarked meaningfully. "Snow and cloud—cold, lofty things. The higher you climb, the harder the fall. Remember to cherish your blessings."
Lady Shun bowed reverently.
"Your servant shall take Your Majesty's words to heart."
On the way back to her palace, Lady Shun's handmaid whispered uneasily:
"My Lady… what did the Empress mean? 'The higher you climb, the harder the fall'? It sounded like a warning."
Lady Shun walked with measured grace and replied:
"'Those who dwell high must fear the fall, those who hold much must guard against excess. Let this thought dwell always in one's heart, and fortune shall endure.' Her Majesty meant it as a kind reminder."
The maid nodded thoughtfully, unaware that the line—"Those who dwell high must fear the fall"—was drawn from the Jiucheng Palace Inscription.
Lady Shun had indeed entered the palace for her beauty. Her supposed foolishness… was merely her shield for survival.
The news of her recovery soon reached beyond the palace walls.
Prince Zhao, Li Jing, rushed to see Li Ce, blurting out:
"Lady Shun has recovered?"
Li Ce said nothing at first—his gaze flicked behind Li Jing.
Li Jing turned around, puzzled.
"What is it?"
"You ran so fast," said Li Ce dryly, "I was wondering if your soul managed to keep up."
Li Jing snorted and flopped down into a chair, pouring himself tea. He shot Li Ce a disgruntled look.
"So you already knew and didn't bother to tell me? How heartless!"
"I was in the palace at the time," said Li Ce. "Thanks to Jiaojiao."
Li Jing froze, cup in midair.
"She opened a clinic now?"
"No," Li Ce replied, taking the kettle to pour him tea. "Why don't we play a game of Go while we chat about it?"
"I'm in," Li Jing said, eyeing the board. "But you'll have to let me win."
"I will," Li Ce raised an eyebrow, "as long as no one disturbs us. Close the gate—no visitors."
Li Jing waved his hand.
"Close it! No one in or out! Let's see if I can knock you senseless on the board."
The game lasted a long time.
Li Ce, usually swift in placing his pieces, hesitated often today. Several times, Li Jing believed victory was in his grasp—only for Li Ce to turn the tide again and again, forcing him to rethink his moves.
"You said you'd let me win!" he complained.
"I am," Li Ce replied—and captured more of his white stones.
What Li Jing didn't know was that, during the two hours they played, his aides and officials from the prince's manor had all come knocking outside the gate, only to be turned away...