Chapter 99

Proofreader: Mim

The cool weather lasted only two days before the heat returned with a vengeance. In the imperial city, nobles and officials once again donned their light silk robes to combat the sweltering temperatures.

The golden osmanthus blossoms fell rapidly in the hot winds, leaving people murmuring about how this year felt strangely unusual.

The Emperor’s Wanshou [Longevity] Festival, a celebration of his birthday, was also a public holiday.

On the evening before the festival, Li Zhi summoned her younger sister, Li Cien, to her courtyard.

To complete some urgent tasks before the official holiday began, many officials remained hunched over their desks at their offices late into the night. Xie Lanxu, now a Left Minister of the State, had earned the title “Minister Xie” among the court officials. Even if he only pretended to be diligent, he couldn’t leave the ministry’s office too early.

Taking advantage of his absence, Li Zhi seized the opportunity to speak privately with Li Cien and relay important instructions.

When Li Cien arrived, she was invited to sit at the tea table. Meanwhile, Li Zhi went to her dressing table and retrieved a thick stack of banknotes from a hidden compartment in her jewelry box.

Walking back, Li Zhi handed the money to Li Cien.

“This is the salary I’ve saved since returning to the capital,” Li Zhi said. “Tomorrow afternoon, I want you to distribute a portion of this money to the household servants and have them return to their hometowns for a while.”

Li Cien was taken aback.

“You want everyone to leave?”

When Li Zhi confirmed, Li Cien asked again:

“When do you plan to have them return?”

Li Zhi remained silent for a long moment.

“If things don’t go as planned, they won’t come back,” Li Zhi finally said.

“How will they know if things go well or not?”

“…They’ll know when the time comes,” Li Zhi replied quietly.

A faint unease crept into Li Cien’s heart.

“Sister Li Zhi, you’re not planning to do something dangerous, are you?”

Li Zhi avoided the question and said instead, “…And you. Tomorrow evening, I want you to leave the city with Li Xiangsheng.”

“Sister Li Zhi, I won’t agree to this unless you tell me what you’re planning,” Li Cien said firmly.

By this point, Li Zhi had no intention of hiding anything from her sister. Li Cien had grown up—she deserved to know part of the truth.

To Li Zhi, Li Cien’s innate cleverness and intelligence far exceeded her own. Her younger siblings—both Li Cien and Li Xiangsheng—felt like rare blessings from the heavens. One was unmatched in strength and bravery, the other keenly insightful and bright.

Slowly, Li Zhi began to reveal her plan for the Longevity Festival to Li Cien.

Li Cien’s expression shifted several times, struggling to maintain her usual composure.

She confirmed and reconfirmed, but Li Zhi remained unwavering: her target for revenge was none other than the Emperor himself.

Such an outrageous scheme—it was almost absurd that it involved her own sister. For a long while, Li Cien sat in stunned silence, unable to speak.

“I finally understand…” she murmured.

Her gaze landed on Li Zhi’s face, and she stared at her elder sister with wide, teary eyes. Before long, the tears began to flow uncontrollably.

Li Zhi assumed she was crying for her late twin sister. But instead, Li Cien sobbed and choked out:

“All these years… how have you managed to endure it alone?”

Her question caught Li Zhi off guard.

Yes. How had she endured all these years?

Drifting aimlessly in a sea of suffering, gritting her teeth against the tide, consumed by hatred, sleepless through countless nights.

Over time, the pain in her chest dulled, turning into an ache so persistent it became almost indistinguishable from her existence.

Like a dull blade carving into her flesh, she endured. One day at a time, she survived.

“…I just did,” Li Zhi said.

“Sister Li Zhi, since you’ve asked me and Brother to leave the city, you must have already considered the consequences of failure. I won’t try to persuade you otherwise because Brother and I owe our lives to you. We’re only standing here today because of you, and I trust your decisions unconditionally. But—”

Li Cien sniffled, wiped her tears with her sleeve, and raised her head to meet Li Zhi’s gaze, resolute.

“Can you promise me one thing, Sister Li Zhi?”

“What is it?”

“For the sake of revenge, Sister Li Zhi has become like this. Do you think the other Sister Li Zhi in the heavens would be happy to see you like this?”

“…Like this?”

“You know what I mean,” Li Cien said firmly.

“…”

“I may not have been as close to her as I am to you, but I still knew something of her personality and character,” Li Cien said, her eyes shimmering with sorrow, bordering on pleading. “If she were still alive, she would never want you to do something so dangerous. She would never want you to become someone who could erase her own existence just for revenge—”

“She’s already dead.” Li Zhi’s face turned cold, cutting her off.

“But—”

“She’s already dead,” Li Zhi repeated as she stood from the tea table, her tone unwavering.

She avoided Li Cien’s pleading gaze and piercing words, turning away from the reality in front of her.

That reality was one she had buried beneath the ashes of her burned-out self, a truth she had entombed long ago.

“If she has a soul in the heavens, then that would mean gods exist,” Li Zhi said as she looked out the window. Her hand pressed against the tea table, her fingers curling tightly into a fist.

Outside, the shattered osmanthus blossoms drifted like golden rain, carrying their final fragrance into death.

“If gods exist, then I would abandon my revenge without hesitation and follow her into the afterlife.”

“But the fact that I am still standing here means I know she is nowhere to be found. She exists nowhere. Even if I die, I will never see her again.”

Li Zhi turned to look at Li Cien.

Just as she thought, Li Cien, far smarter than her, had pieced together truths that Li Zhi had left unsaid.

But there was one thing Li Cien would never guess, no matter how clever she was.

“You know,” Li Zhi said softly, “the one who should have been lying in that coffin, reduced to bones, was me.”

Li Cien furrowed her brows in confusion, then suddenly widened her eyes in shock.

“It was supposed to be me who died,” Li Zhi whispered.

Someone else had taken on the fate that should have been hers.

“Go back,” Li Zhi said firmly. “He’ll be back soon. Don’t let him see anything unusual.”

Li Cien left in the end.

Li Zhi was left alone.

She walked to the window, her gaze drifting toward the tallest structure in sight.

The magnificent imperial palace had long replaced the snowy peaks of the sacred Xian Naiyue Mountain of Mingyue Tower in her memories.

Before long, it would be the season when the azalea blossoms of Mingyue Tower blanketed the mountains in fiery red.

If only she could, how she wished to return to Mingyue Tower one more time.

She missed the starry skies of Mingyue Tower, the flawless white of Xian Naiyue Mountain, and the vibrant azalea trees burning like flames—

Would she ever see such beauty again in this lifetime?

—-

On the day of the Longevity Festival, celebrations spread across the empire.

This year, however, was different. At the suggestion of Consort Lu, the Emperor decided to cancel the grand state banquet, opting instead for a modest family feast as a gesture of frugality.

Li Zhi was awoken by the chirping of birds perched in the osmanthus tree.

When she opened her eyes, Xie Lanxu was still asleep. As she tried to get up, his arms tightened around her, like a child seeking comfort, burying his face into her shoulder.

Unlike before, Li Zhi didn’t push him away. Instead, she picked up a lock of his black hair, twirling it around her fingers. Finding that unsatisfying, she reached out and gently touched his soft earlobe.

Xie Lanxu stirred groggily. Seeing it was her, he closed his eyes again and even leaned his head closer, as if inviting her to continue.

The puppy they had recently bought had grown a little but was still round and chubby. Li Zhi had named it Xiao Li.

[The same Lǐ as in Ah-Li, Xie Lanxu’s nickname. So the Prince is Ah-Li and the dog is Little Li. Li Junior?]

Xiao Li sat dutifully by their bedside, staring at them with unwavering focus, its tail ready to wag at any moment.

“…Why are you awake?” Xie Lanxu mumbled sleepily.

“I’m awake, that’s all,” Li Zhi replied.

Hearing this, Xie Lanxu stopped trying to sleep. He opened his eyes, adjusted his position to lie on his side, and propped his head up on one arm to look at her.

“Today’s a holiday.”

“Mm,” Li Zhi responded.

“Where do you want to go? What do you want to eat?” Xie Lanxu asked. “I’ll go with you wherever you like.”

When Li Zhi couldn’t think of anything, he added, “I heard there’s a new clothing shop in the city selling imported silk. It’s become quite popular. You haven’t ordered your autumn outfits yet. Why don’t we go have a look?”

“That sounds fine,” Li Zhi replied nonchalantly.

They got up, washed, and helped each other choose their outfits for the day.

At some point, Xie Lanxu had even moved his wardrobe into Li Zhi’s residence.

One couldn’t help but wonder if, when he was left alone, there would be any clothes left at Prince Langya’s estate.

Together, they ventured out like an ordinary married couple—or perhaps even closer than that—enjoying each other’s company with smiles and laughter.

It was as though the night of their falling-out had never happened.

The newly opened clothing shop indeed had many rare fabrics. Li Zhi selected several thick furs for Li Cien and Li Xiangsheng, warm to the touch even through their heavy texture. These furs would surely fend off even the bitter cold of Mingyue Tower, let alone the winters in the capital.

When the shopkeeper asked if they preferred tailored pieces or ready-made ones, Li Zhi chose ready-made garments.

“If Madam isn’t in a hurry, I highly recommend custom tailoring,” the shopkeeper suggested kindly. “Our embroiderers come directly from the palace. They will not disappoint.”

Li Zhi smiled and said, “Ready-made will do.”

After leaving her residence’s address, Li Zhi and Xie Lanxu exited the shop.

Glancing at the sky, Li Zhi said, “Let’s go back.”

These days, Xie Lanxu never questioned her decisions. He obediently followed her lead, showing no signs of resistance.

His eagerness to please was painfully obvious, yet Li Zhi felt nothing in her heart.

Upon their return to Li Zhi’s residence, the dining room in the east courtyard was already filled with a sumptuous spread of dishes, vibrant in color and aroma.

Li Cien greeted them warmly, her face radiant as usual. She called out cheerfully, “Your Highness, you’ve come back at just the right time! The dishes were just brought out when you arrived. If you’d been any later, I was about to send the servants out to look for you!”

On festive occasions in the past, the round table in the flower hall was always fully occupied, brimming with life and conversation. But today, it felt noticeably empty and quiet.

Xie Lanxu glanced around the room and suddenly asked, “Where is everyone else?”

Li Xiangsheng turned to Li Cien, his expression betraying his own curiosity.

Li Cien smiled and explained, “Don’t worry, Your Highness. There’s another table set in the west courtyard. Jia Sui and the others are eating there with the rest of the household.”

It was a perfectly reasonable explanation. Xie Lanxu didn’t question it further and sat down at the round table.

The others followed suit, taking their seats.

At the center of the table was a dish of sweet-and-sour fish. Xie Lanxu was the first to pick up his chopsticks, ignoring the looks from everyone else as he scraped off the tender piece of meat from the fish’s belly.

Carefully selecting the boneless portion, he turned and held it out toward Li Zhi.

“Open your mouth,” he said.

His nonchalant manner only made Li Xiangsheng and Li Cien, who had instinctively paused mid-meal, feel awkward and out of place.

“Your Highness, can you see us?” Li Cien waved her hand at Xie Lanxu. “My brother and I are still here, you know. Can you see us at all?”

Xie Lanxu ignored her completely.

Li Zhi opened her mouth and ate the piece of fish he offered. In return, she plucked the milky-white eyeball from the sweet-and-sour fish and held it out to him.

“Your Highness should eat as well,” she said, her tone cold and her expression indifferent. Her gesture of offering the fish eye carried no warmth, almost as if it was a deliberate insult.

But after the prolonged tension between them, Xie Lanxu was so eager for any form of attention from her that even this felt like a blessing. Without hesitation, he ate the fish eye.

Li Zhi knew exactly why the first bite of fish belly was given to her.

Xie Lanxu never took the first bite of any dish.

Even when eating with a small group, he always maintained a level of guardedness. Deep down, his vigilance never fully dissipated.

Perhaps, in his world, the only people he could completely trust were the dead.

Li Zhi had exploited that very caution of his, predicting his behavior. She had laced the fish eye—a part of the dish no one else would touch—with the sedative.

When Xie Lanxu’s bowl and chopsticks clattered to the table and he collapsed face-down, Li Xiangsheng leapt up in alarm.

“Your Highness!”

He hurried to check on Xie Lanxu, but Li Cien quickly stepped forward to block him.

“What’s going on here?” Li Xiangsheng asked, staring in disbelief at his two sisters.

Neither of them answered him.

“We don’t have much time. Let Li Cien explain,” Li Zhi said calmly, rising from the table. “I have other matters to attend to.”

Li Zhi returned to her bedroom.

She opened her jewelry box and retrieved the only gold hairpin inside. Her fingers brushed the tip of the hairpin, carefully sharpened for a very specific purpose. After a moment of hesitation, she replaced the jade hairpin in her hair with the golden one.

Seated before her dressing mirror, she stared at her reflection and began to practice her smile.

“Elder Sister—”

“Elder Sister—”

At first, her voice was stiff and awkward, unable to shake the awareness that it was her own reflection in the mirror.

But gradually, her tone became more natural, more fluid, as her smile deepened. Her crescent-shaped eyes shimmered as though tiny fireflies were glowing within them. It was almost as if the blurry figure in the bronze mirror truly was her long-lost elder sister.

“Elder Sister—”

She remembered a day from her childhood, splashing her feet in the water, trying to stay afloat. Her young voice had been half-complaint, half-plea as she cried out to her elder sister.

“Elder Sister! Elder Sister! Hurry and pull me up! Stop laughing, stop laughing!”

Her elder sister had laughed so hard tears streamed down her face. She had been dancing gracefully between the bronze pillars when the loud plop behind her caused her to glance back.

Her foolish little sister had fallen into the water.

The exhaustion from a day of dance practice evaporated, and her elder sister couldn’t stop laughing. It was only after repeated pleas that she finally pulled her soaking-wet sister out of the water.

Dripping and shivering, Li Zhi stood atop the bronze pillars, rainwater pouring off her drenched dance clothes. She stomped her feet in frustration.

“I hate dancing!” she had declared.

But despite her protests, after a little coaxing from her sister, she had grumpily continued practicing.

Back then, she had truly admired her elder sister.

Her dancing had been so graceful, like a butterfly gliding effortlessly across the water.

Countless times, Li Zhi had envied her sister—her quick learning, her flawless execution of anything she attempted. She had prayed countless times to become like her.

Only now did she understand that no matter how hard she tried, she could only ever become like her sister; she could never truly be her sister.

She could never learn her sister’s kindness.

She could never forgive.

—–

In the courtyard, a breeze stirred the air, scattering the golden osmanthus petals like rain and mist.

Li Zhi walked through the drifting blossoms, the faint fragrance clinging to her robes.

She exited the Li Zhi residence and boarded a carriage, heading toward the coldest, tallest structure in the imperial palace.

Since the day her twin sister had died, Li Zhi had sworn a venomous oath.

Li Xia and Xie Shencong could not coexist in this world.

Only one could survive.

There was only one circumstance under which Li Xia could return.

Today might be that day.

(Author’s Note:)
Thank you for reading this far. I hope you’ll enjoy the next chapter. The storm is just beginning.