Story of Yanxi Palace, Side Story Chapter 3: Her Secret [Part 1]

   Prologue: Her Secret

   She has a secret.

This secret has made her increasingly withdrawn, increasingly distant from other people…

“How pitiful.” A gentle voice sounded behind her. “Everyone says Princess Zhaohua is willful, domineering, heartless, and cold-blooded. Turns out she’s not incapable of crying—she just likes to hide and cry alone.”

Princess Zhaohua whipped her head around and stared coldly at the other person:

“Who are you?”

As the eldest daughter of Wei Yingluo, Princess-Zhaohua inherited her mother’s stunning beauty, but her temperament was far more like her father’s—arrogant and overbearing, as though she were born the master of the world and everyone else should naturally prostrate themselves at her feet.

If she were a prince, such an attitude might be acceptable, but as a princess, as a woman, this manner came across as excessively haughty.

“If I were Lawanduorji, I wouldn’t choose a woman who looks down at me through her nostrils as my wife either.” The other person laughed. He was a young man dressed in a guard’s uniform, strikingly handsome, with a somewhat roguish, carefree smile. He gave a rather informal salute by patting his chest. “My name is Fukang’an. I’ve come to help you.”

“Help me?” Princess-Zhaohua raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly can you help me with?”

“Help you win Lawanduorji’s heart, of course.” Fukang’an replied with a sly grin.

“…And why would you want to help me?” Princess-Zhaohua looked at him with even deeper suspicion.

In the palace, she had never been particularly well-liked.

Apart from her father the prince, her mother the consort, and the two elder siblings she grew up with, everyone else either feared her or disliked her. Unless she gave a direct order, no one would ever take the initiative to help her with anything.

Suddenly a finger reached across from the opposite side and gently scraped across her cheek.

Princess-Zhaohua startled backward several steps, exploding in fury: “How dare you! What are you doing?!”

Fukang’an brought the finger—now moist with her tears—to his lips and lightly licked it, as though savoring the blend of sour, sweet, bitter, and spicy that was her. His extremely beautiful peach-blossom eyes gazed at her, shimmering like spring water reflecting pear blossoms. “I have no choice… of course I have to help you. The way you’re crying is melting my heart.”

Everyone said Princess-Zhaohua had everything, but that wasn’t entirely true.

Whenever she had something she liked, Princess-Siwan would always find a way to snatch it away. Princess-Siwan was the granddaughter of Prince He; after Prince He died suddenly in his prime and his mansion rapidly declined, her background was truly pitiful. So everyone always told Princess-Zhaohua to yield to her.

Yield the delicious pastries, yield the beautiful clothes, yield the snow-white kitten with soft fur… and in the end, even her fiancé, the valiant and heroic Prince Lawanduorji, was to be yielded to her.

This was truly intolerable.

Princess-Zhaohua did not love Lawanduorji, but she absolutely could not allow what belonged to her to be taken away again and again. So she gritted her teeth and accepted Fukang’an’s proposal.

“Very well, my beautiful princess.” Fukang’an plucked a peony blossom, tucked it gently behind her ear, and said tenderly, “Let me teach you how to plunder a man’s heart.”

Fukang’an was a man with an infamous reputation. He was known for seducing women—there were even rumors that he had gotten a palace maid pregnant. Yet surprisingly, when it came to teaching how to seduce a man, he was quite accomplished.

Lawanduorji was a renowned general: ruthless toward enemies on the battlefield, and equally ruthless toward women he did not like once he returned to the Forbidden City. He even dared, under the combined pressure of Hongli and Wei Yingluo, to propose breaking off the engagement.

But even such a man could not escape Fukang’an’s calculations.

“Why deliberately spread false rumors that the Empress Dowager is choosing a new consort for you?” Fukang’an laughed. “Taking the initiative to break an engagement and being the one rejected are two completely different things. No matter how aloof Lawanduorji is, he is still a man. He may be willing to forgo the position of Seventh Imperial Son-in-law, but he cannot tolerate having something taken from him. That is human nature—he will come looking for you soon, my princess.”

Just as Fukang’an had predicted, Lawanduorji—who had always shown no warmth toward Princess-Zhaohua—actually took the initiative to seek her out.

“Occasionally let him see you cry, my princess. Your tears are far more powerful than any sword you hold in your hand.”

Princess-Zhaohua had never cried in front of others—she considered it too humiliating. But she tried it skeptically, and the result was astonishingly effective. She said the exact same words as before, yet the last time Lawanduorji wouldn’t listen to a single sentence. This time, speaking through tears, not only did he listen—he believed every word.

Are tears really so powerful?

“The tears themselves aren’t that powerful. It’s just that Lawanduorji has already begun to fall for you.” Fukang’an always planned one step ahead. “The time has come, my princess. Now you should be jealous…”

While the two were secretly plotting this relationship, Siwan was also vying for Lawanduorji’s attention. She even deliberately injured herself, then, covered in blood, cried out to Lawanduorji for help. Left with no choice, Lawanduorji had to carry her back to the guard station right in front of Zhaohua.

Zhaohua had originally thought Fukang’an would tell her to endure it. Instead, Fukang’an said there was no need—not only no need, but she should take this opportunity to vent everything.

Of all his plans, this was the only one that truly suited Zhaohua’s wishes. She let out a sharp laugh and almost impatiently rushed to the guard station. Not only did she mock and ridicule Siwan mercilessly, she even dragged up old matters from years ago—

Both princesses had been raised in front of the Empress Dowager, but the younger one had always been more favored. After Zhaohua was born, she naturally took a share of the Empress Dowager’s affection. It was only human for Princess Siwan to feel jealous. But snatching clothes and toys from Zhaohua wasn’t enough for her—she wanted Zhaohua’s life.

“When Princess Siwan went outside the palace to visit her brother who had smallpox, she came back and passed the pox to me. I struggled on my sickbed for several months before I survived. How do you expect me to like her? How do you expect me to show her a pleasant face?” Zhaohua’s eyes reddened as she questioned Lawanduorji. “You… never mind. I’ll return the tapestry to you.”

Lawanduorji didn’t want the tapestry, nor did he want the delicate, pitiful, yet charming and seductive Princess Siwan lying on the bed.

He chased after her in a few strides, not even avoiding the eyes and ears around them, and spoke to Zhaohua with complete sincerity:

“I’m not blind to Princess Siwan deliberately approaching me again and again. I only refrained from harsh words out of consideration for both our faces, not wanting to humiliate her. But since you dislike it, from now on I won’t pay her any attention at all!”

Yet Zhaohua’s gaze passed over his shoulder, landing on the figure leaning against a red pillar in the long corridor of the guard station. That handsome face always seemed to carry a roguish, mocking smile no matter the moment.

The corners of her mouth involuntarily curved upward. Zhaohua’s already beautiful features became even more breathtaking with that smile:

“What does it have to do with me? There’s no need to explain yourself to me!”

Lawanduorji looked at her steadily:

“Of course I have to explain. Zhaohua, there is only you in my heart. How could I let you misunderstand?”

At the same moment, the corners of both conspirators’ lips lifted in a silent, mutual victory.

Tap, tap, tap—the sound of footsteps approached from afar. Siwan, leaning on a crutch, laboriously walked out from inside, her face full of unwillingness.

“Zhaohua, if you were truly open and aboveboard, why don’t you tell him about that matter? Or are you afraid—afraid that once Lawanduorji knows the truth, he will never see you as a normal person again!”

The depth of the rift between the two was not merely because of smallpox—there was an even deeper, more terrifying secret hidden in both their hearts.

Although Princess Siwan ultimately did not speak that secret aloud, merely mentioning it had already greatly violated Zhaohua’s taboo. But before dealing with her, Zhaohua had something more important to do.

“I’m giving them to you.” Zhaohua pointed to the mother and child beside her. “I know you’ve been begging Father for them and took quite a few beatings for it. Now I’ve helped you get them.”

It was a mother and son who had just come out of the Cleansing Division. The woman was about the same age as Zhaohua; the childishness had not yet fully left her own face, yet she was already nursing a child.

Fukang’an said nothing.

But the woman, clutching the tattered swaddling cloth, suddenly knelt before Zhaohua with a thud:

“He is not my husband—he is the benefactor of our entire family!”

Zhaohua was stunned.

The child’s father was not Fukang’an, but an ordinary guard from the guard station. In order to win honor and advancement, he died on the battlefield and was posthumously awarded the title of Baturu, becoming a hero of the family.

But if word spread that he had been involved with a palace maid, he would instantly go from hero to criminal.

So Fukang’an had shouldered the entire matter himself. He saved the guard’s reputation and saved the lives of the mother and child—at the cost of his own future prospects.

“Is this your secret?” Zhaohua asked.

Fukang’an looked at her with a complicated expression and remained silent for a long time.

“…Don’t worry. Your secret is my secret. I won’t tell anyone.” Zhaohua blinked, giving him a meaningful look. “Besides… your future isn’t completely hopeless yet.”

 

She left happily, skipping along. Not long after, word spread that Princess Siwan’s cat had died. A few days later, the maidservant by Princess Siwan’s side also died. Finally… Princess Siwan herself hanged herself.

Although she was fortunately saved and did not die, the rumors had already spread throughout the Forbidden City. Everyone was saying that it was Princess Zhaohua who killed the cat, killed the maidservant, and step by step terrorized Princess Siwan, forcing her toward death.

The rumors were told with such vivid detail and conviction that they finally reached the ears of the Imperial Clan Court.

The Director of the Imperial Clan Court personally came before Hongli, demanding severe punishment for Zhaohua. In the middle of the heated argument, the door of Yangxin Hall suddenly burst open. Zhaohua rushed in from outside and knelt with a thud before Hongli:

“Royal Father, I am willing to yield the marriage to Siwan, to fulfill her infatuation.”

Everyone present was stunned.

The Director of the Imperial Clan Court said, “Seventh Princess, what do you mean by this?”

“Does the Director of the Imperial Clan Court not know? Siwan harbors deep affection for Lawanduorji. For his sake she has repeatedly created friction with me, damaging the bond of many years of companionship, and even went so far as to threaten suicide.” Zhaohua cast him a glance, then turned back to Hongli and said, word by word, reaffirming her decision: “Since Siwan is so devoted, to prevent her from harming herself again, I am willing to give the marriage to her!”

As soon as these words were spoken, the entire hall was shocked into silence.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Afterward, Wei Yingluo summoned Zhaohua to Yanxi Palace and scolded her sharply.

“I know,” Zhaohua replied, appearing extremely calm.

Wei Yingluo: “…Is it because of Fukang’an?”

Zhaohua was silent for a moment, then nodded.

She did not love Lawanduorji. Approaching him had only been an act of spite—or perhaps part of a scheme. Her heart had long been captured by another man. She had never spoken of it because of that persistent rumor—he had been involved with a palace maid, and the two of them had even borne a son.

Now that misunderstanding had been cleared up. The only knot in her heart was gone. What else could possibly stop her from running to his side?

   Zhaohua had always been impulsive and fiery. As soon as the thought crossed her mind, she acted on it. Leaving the palace maids and eunuchs behind, she lifted her skirt and practically ran all the way to the Imperial Guard station, wanting to be the first to share this wonderful news with him.

   But what did she hear?

   “You clearly said that Zhaohua’s reputation would be completely ruined. That’s why I killed my beloved cat, killed my maidservant, and nearly killed myself. But look at what she’s done!” Princess Siwan’s voice came from inside the room. “Now everyone in the palace is saying that I ruined the Seventh Princess’s reputation just to get Prince Lawanduorji. Is this your so-called perfect plan?”

The sound of a teacup lid scraping across the rim of the cup.

Fukang’an’s voice drifted out, leisurely and fragrant like tea: “Do you not want Lawanduorji?”

Princess Siwan snapped angrily, “Not like this!”

Fukang’an chuckled softly. “To completely destroy Zhaohua while still coming out with a good reputation—you really are greedy.”

“Fukang’an!”

“Why get so angry?” Fukang’an said slowly and deliberately. “Do you really care what Lawanduorji thinks of you? No. You don’t love him. What you love… is seeing Zhaohua go mad, go insane.”

Bang—

The door was violently pushed open.

Zhaohua stood at the threshold, her face ashen. She shouted fiercely at Princess Siwan:

“Get out!”

After driving Princess Siwan away, the two of them faced each other.

“…Why?” Zhaohua’s eyes were slightly red. “Why did you help Princess Siwan frame me?”

“What if I said it was for your sake?” Fukang’an smiled.

Zhaohua froze upon hearing this.

“I reckon that in a few days, your Imperial Father will bring up today’s matter with him and ask whether he’s willing to switch to a different princess. But do you think he’ll agree?” Fukang’an gently wiped her tears for her. “Bet on it with me, my princess.”

Zhaohua: “And if I win?”

Fukang’an: “Then you’ll have Lawanduorji.”

Zhaohua: “But what if I lose?”

“Then…” Fukang’an thought for a moment, pressing one finger to his own lips as though sharing a secret meant only for the two of them, “…then on that day, accompany me out of the palace to watch a temple fair.”

With that, he lowered the finger and, in the palm of Zhaohua’s hand, lingeringly traced a date.

Lawanduorji did not agree.

He knelt before Hongli, just as he had once knelt to beg for the dissolution of the engagement—but this time, he asked for Zhaohua alone.

Zhaohua had won. She looked down at her own palm and suddenly said, “The time has come. I should go.”

She secretly changed into the clothes of a little eunuch and slipped out of the palace together with the group of eunuchs who were leaving on errands. A carriage was already waiting not far from the gate. Once inside, she happily changed again into the commoner girl’s attire that had been prepared in advance. Lifting a corner of the carriage curtain to look outside, she was stunned. “Where is this?”

“The young master is waiting for you inside,” the coachman declared confidently.

Zhaohua jumped down from the carriage. All she saw was overgrown weeds swaying in the wind, bent low enough to reveal an old, dilapidated temple behind them. No matter how she looked left or right, this place did not resemble anywhere a temple fair could possibly be held.

Filled with suspicion, Zhaohua walked inside.

As soon as she entered, countless gazes fell upon her.

They belonged to a group of filthy beggars—some lying down, some sitting, others walking straight toward her—with extremely lewd grins on their faces.

“Where did such a pretty little girl come from, running to such a desolate place?”

“Get away!” Zhaohua dodged the man’s dirty hand.

“Get away? Hahaha, did you all hear that? She’s telling me to get away?” The beggar flashed a mouthful of yellow teeth; his gaze suddenly turned vicious. “Too late, sweetheart. Your beloved has already handed you over to us!”

Zhaohua flew into a rage. “You’re lying!”

“Silly girl, do you even know where this is?” Another beggar approached with a sinister chuckle. “The most rundown beggars’ den in the eastern part of the city. If it weren’t deliberate deception, why would anyone choose a place like this for a rendezvous?”

One by one the beggars closed in, forming an impenetrable wall of suspicion that trapped Zhaohua tightly in the center. Dirty hands reached for her—tugging at her clothes, groping her face, mocking her, humiliating her.

“Stop acting already. Would a proper young lady from a good family come running off to meet a man so shamelessly?”

“She’s just born low and filthy—pretending to be some chaste martyr!”

“Tell us—which brothel did you sneak out of?”

“Ah! She bit me!”

Several sharp slaps rang out, followed by Zhaohua’s frenzied, blood-curdling screams.

After struggling at the doorway for a long time, Fukang’an could bear it no longer. He rushed inside and shouted, “Stop!”

Seeing the beggars completely ignore him, he drew his sword with a sharp shing. A few swift strokes later, cries of pain filled the air. One beggar clutched his arm and staggered back, trembling as he stammered,

“Young Master Fu… but… but this was all your idea—you told us to do it!”

Fukang’an froze for a moment. Reflexively, he turned his face and looked toward Zhaohua.

Zhaohua, with disheveled hair, curled up in the corner, staring at him with a pair of extremely cold eyes.

The wheels rolled, yellow dust rose in clouds. The same carriage that had brought her here now carried her back. On the return journey, Zhaohua shrank into the farthest corner of the carriage, keeping as much distance from him as possible.

“My full name is Fucha Fukang’an,” Fukang’an said calmly. “Your mother ordered the death of my mother…”

The son of Fucha Fuheng had finally grown into adulthood this year, yet even now, he could not forget that childhood memory: a gloomy, rainy day when he held that person’s hand and walked into the room where the coffin was placed.

“Look,” that person said, lifting the coffin lid and pointing at the corpse inside, whose eyes remained wide open in death. “Your mother didn’t die of natural causes. She was poisoned with poisoned wine by that wretch Consort Ling. You must remember her face, remember her suffering, Fukang’an… When you grow up, you must avenge her.”

 

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