Chapter 101

 

The third night watch resounded across the palace corridors, marking the official end of the Longevity Festival.

Zhuoying Lake was now desolate, its surface rippling gently under the caress of the night breeze, leaving only countless floating giant water lilies swaying in the darkness.

In Ziwei Palace, lights blazed brightly, illuminating the tense atmosphere inside.

Standing like a withered tree, Gao Shan was expressionless as he kept his vigil by the door of the inner hall. Within, the palace attendants mirrored his stoicism, their eyes cast downward, feigning the presence of mere wooden statues.

The strained voices of an argument between the emperor and his son echoed ceaselessly from within.

“Long before the Li family was purged, this son already petitioned to marry the elder daughter of the Li family’s twin sisters!” Xie Fengshao shouted angrily. “Father was well aware of my feelings for Li Zhi, yet you rejected me outright! And tonight, in front of everyone, you betrothed her to Xie Lanxu!”

“That is because I have my reasons!” Xie Shencong snapped, pacing the Imperial Study with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression darkening.

“Father’s reasons have never taken my feelings into account!”

“I did consider you—that’s precisely why I gave her to Xie Lanxu!”

Xie Fengshao let out a bitter laugh. “Is it truly for my sake, Father? Or is it for yours?”

“How ridiculous! Losing all reason over a mere criminal’s daughter,” Xie Shencong said coldly. “Look at yourself now! Laughable!”

He raised his voice, chastising his son, “In the future, when you hold great power, what kind of woman will you not be able to have? The imperial consort selection will be held soon—I, alongside your mother, will find you candidates with impeccable lineage, virtues, and talents. You are my most valued son, and your vision should be broader.

“As for Xie Lanxu—he is cunning and deep, far more formidable than his father. Should he wed a noblewoman of high status, where would that leave you in the future?”

Tears rimmed Xie Fengshao’s reddened eyes.

“…Then I would rather have no place at all in the future,” he said, voice trembling.

“Utter nonsense!” Xie Shencong roared in anger.

The commotion prompted palace attendants outside to drop to their knees in alarm, yet within, Xie Fengshao stood his ground, his tear-filled eyes fixed on the furious emperor.

“I have spoiled you!” Xie Shencong thundered. “That is why you now dare to act so lawlessly! Starting today, you are confined to the Yaohua Palace for a month. No visitors allowed!”

Finally, Gao Shan entered the inner hall, his movements soundless, his pale face bowed low as he addressed the young prince, “…Please, Your Highness.”

Xie Fengshao hesitated, sparing his father a final glance before clenching his teeth and storming out of Ziwei Palace.

As Prince Feng disappeared from view, Xie Shencong sank wearily onto the couch, his once fiery rage giving way to a hollow melancholy.

 

Among all his sons, Xie Fengshao was the one he favored the most.

The young prince was sincere, intelligent, and full of vitality—a shining embodiment of everything he had once dreamed of being.

When he was younger, wandering the bustling streets, he had envied young masters from wealthy families the most: their tailored silks, the servants who hovered around them, their private tutors who taught them the six arts.

In contrast, he had crouched outside classrooms, eavesdropping on lessons, only to be pelted with stones and chased away by the children within.

Among all his sons, the one he disliked the most was his eldest, Xie Songzhao.

Like his mother, Xie Songzhao bore a saintly demeanor, constantly admonishing him with moral platitudes.

A jade’s brilliance dims in the presence of perfection.

And so, what of it?

He was the Emperor of Great Yan, the master of all under heaven. He could do as he pleased.

He would not allow anyone to make him feel inferior.

He believed himself not flawed, merely surrounded by those too pristine.

Such people could exist far away—he could even praise them from a distance—but they must not linger near him. They must not enter his sight.

If they did, he would feel an irresistible urge to break them.

Even if they were his own sons.

Xie Shencong brushed off the pangs of guilt. He had many sons, after all, but only one self.

And his happiness mattered more than anyone else’s—for only a happy emperor could bring happiness to his realm.

He clung to this conviction.

Suddenly struck by a thought, he rose abruptly.

Walking over to a vase adorned with lotus motifs, he drew out a scroll from among its collection of paintings. Unfurling it, his gaze lingered on the delicate brushstrokes.

The painting depicted the bare back of a young woman. She stood tiptoe, her ankle adorned with tiny golden bells. Her long black hair cascaded down like a river, flowing across her fair shoulders. Her delicate shoulder blades curved like butterfly wings mid-flight. Turning her head slightly, her expression was an enigma—part joy, part sorrow.

“If only she were still alive…”

A dangerous idea crept into Xie Shencong’s mind.

“If she were alive… I would be even happier than I am now.”

Elsewhere, Xie Lanxu cradled a pair of fair feet in his hands.

Using a soft, clean cloth, he meticulously wiped away every speck of dirt from Li Zhi’s delicate toes, his motions reverent and slow.

Once her feet were spotless, he pressed his cheek against the top of her foot, his coarse breath brushing against her skin as he whispered hoarsely:

“Banban… don’t leave me…”

Li Zhi sat on the bed, gazing down at him.

Her voice was eerily calm, devoid of emotion, like a pool of stagnant water:

“If I’ve made up my mind to die, you won’t be able to stop me.”

He knew he couldn’t stop her.

“If you die, what will happen to your younger siblings?” Xie Lanxu pleaded, his voice desperate. “Have you no regard for them?”

“A dead person has no need to care about what happens afterward.”

“If you die… what will happen to me?” he choked, clutching her feet like a lifeline. “Can you bear to leave me alone in this world?”

“…When you destroyed all my hope, you didn’t seem to care,” she replied. “I’m merely following your example.”

“If you hadn’t schemed against me—”

She cut him off.

“If I hadn’t schemed against you, we wouldn’t even be here.”

Xie Lanxu froze, the warmth of her skin grounding him. After a pause, he closed his eyes, his voice trembling, “…Then let it be scheming.”

Outside the window, fragrant osmanthus blossoms drifted in the breeze. A few flowers floated into the room, where a curious little puppy sniffed them eagerly, only to sneeze repeatedly.

It glanced toward its master, who didn’t even spare it a look.

Xie Lanxu held onto Li Zhi’s legs, his chin resting on her knees, his dazed eyes fixed on her.

“I’ll kill the emperor for you. The treasure will belong to the two of us. Whatever else you want, I’ll give it to you,” he murmured.

“I only want one thing from you,” he said softly. “I want you to love me.”

“Banban,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I need you to love me.”

She sighed and spoke with quiet clarity, “Do you still remember? Right here, you broke my bracelet—that was the only keepsake left to me by my twin sister.”

“I didn’t know… I thought—”

“And what do you know?” Li Zhi interrupted. “You knew it was your schemes that led to the downfall of my family. You could claim I had no feelings for the Li family, but what about Li Huizhi, Li Xiang, and Shendan?”

Xie Lanxu couldn’t respond. He opened his mouth but found no words to defend himself.

“You knew how much it hurt me when they died,” she continued, her voice sharp with unrelenting pain.

Even though Xie Lanxu had orchestrated everything out of self-preservation, his indifference to her loved ones’ suffering was something she could never forgive.

His arrogance—his complete disregard for the pain of those she cherished—filled her with fury, a rage that outweighed even her desire for the treasure.

“Your arrogance…” she said slowly, her tone icy, “makes me feel like I’m walking on needles.”

“I know I was wrong,” Xie Lanxu whispered, his head bowing.

When she didn’t reply, he shook her legs like a begging dog, looking up at her with eyes full of desperate pleading.

Still, she remained silent.

Frustrated, Xie Lanxu climbed onto the bed, pushed her down, and burrowed into her arms like a child seeking his mother’s warmth. He held her tightly and pleaded:

“Banban, look at me… just look at me once.”

“Love me again… please…”

His voice quivered, each word soaked in longing.

Li Zhi suddenly let out a sigh.

The sound made Xie Lanxu’s heart lurch, tightening painfully in his chest.

“…I’ve also been wrong,” she admitted.

Hope reignited in Xie Lanxu’s eyes, burning brightly in an instant.

“I shouldn’t have schemed against you for the treasure,” Li Zhi said, turning to face him. Her fingers gently brushed against his face. “Now that the emperor has officially betrothed us, we are one. From this day forward, let there be no more lies between us, alright?”

“Alright!” Xie Lanxu exclaimed, the words escaping him without hesitation.

“I don’t want extravagant gifts for our betrothal,” she said softly, “but you must promise me two things.”

“Say it.”

“First, help me take revenge on the emperor. Expose his crimes to the world. Second, once you ascend the throne, open the imperial examinations to women. Allow them to serve in court as equals to men.”

These were demands that would scare off most people, but not Xie Lanxu. To him, these conditions were insignificant, irrelevant to his personal gain.

“You don’t want the treasure anymore?” he asked cautiously.

“You’ve already said the treasure belongs to the two of us,” Li Zhi replied with a faint smile. “I’ll ask for nothing more.”

Xie Lanxu hugged her tightly, his breath brushing against her ear as he said:

“Fine. I promise you both.”

“I’m starving,” she sighed, her voice tinged with exhaustion. “I haven’t eaten in three days to keep my body light enough for that water dance.”

“I’ll have the kitchen make something for you immediately—”

“No,” she interrupted, looking at him with a slight pout. “I want you to cook it for me.”

At this moment, even if she had asked him to pluck the stars from the sky, Xie Lanxu would have drawn up blueprints to build a tower reaching heaven. A simple bowl of noodles or porridge was a trifle in comparison.

Without hesitation, he got up and strode out of the bedroom toward the kitchen.

As his figure disappeared, Li Cien emerged from the shadows of the night and entered the room.

She bent down to play with Xiao Li, who was hopping about, before sitting on the bed beside Li Zhi.

“Where is Xiangsheng?” Li Zhi asked.

“He wanted to come see you, but I told him to hold off for now,” Li Cien replied.

“Good,” Li Zhi said. “By all rights, I should be furious with him right now. Let him stay away for a few days. He doesn’t need to worry about me.”

“Everything is proceeding according to plan,” Li Cien said, her tone tinged with admiration. “But there’s one thing I don’t understand.”

“What is it?”

“Is it truly so important for Xie Lanxu to understand the pain of loss?”

Li Cien’s voice carried a tinge of confusion. “Important enough for you to risk your life?”

“If he cannot comprehend my grief…” Li Zhi started but stopped herself before finishing.

“You’ve always been brilliant, Sister,” Li Cien said after a moment of silence. “Even when we were children. I’ve always believed that you could get anything you set your mind to. But in some ways, you’re quite slow. So slow that you don’t even know why you’re doing this.”

“If he cannot understand your pain,” Li Cien continued, “then the two of you cannot last.”

She had spoken the words Li Zhi couldn’t bring herself to say.

Li Zhi desperately wanted Xie Lanxu to understand her.

Just as she had tried to understand him—his ruthlessness, his willingness to do whatever it took to survive.

Long before he had opened up to her, she had already begun to comprehend his motivations. But his arrogance had shut her out, dismissing her suffering as irrelevant.

Was it only his arrogance that made her angry?

Or was it the pain of being misunderstood by someone she deemed important?

“I hope you find your own happiness, Sister,” Li Cien said, squeezing her hand. “That’s why Xiangsheng and I always listen to you without question.”

“Put your happiness first, Sister.”

“Even if not for yourself, then for us,” she said with a gentle smile.

“For those of us who are still alive.”