Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 38: A Return Gift

“Young Master.”

Only one person ever addressed him this way.

Fucha Fuheng turned around. “What is it… Wei Yingluo.”

The weather had already turned quite cold; most palace maids had changed into their winter clothing. Yet a flash of pale red approached gracefully through the wind and snow—so vivid, so delicate, like a slender finger dipped in rouge, trailing a faint blush of color across the winter white.

“Young Master.” The girl in red walked up to Fucha Fuheng and held out an oddly shaped object. With a radiant, smiling face she said, “This is for you.”

Fucha Fuheng didn’t take it, only lowered his head to look: “What is this?”

“Her Majesty the Empress is always fretting, worried that you standing in the wind all the time will make you feel cold. But men aren’t like women—they can’t use hand warmers. So I went to the small kitchen and begged for a pig’s bladder, filled it with hot water, sealed the opening with hemp rope, and tucked it inside my robes. It keeps you really warm.” As she spoke, she suddenly stuffed the thing into his arms. “See? Isn’t it nice and toasty?”

A sudden warmth bloomed in Fucha Fuheng’s chest—he wasn’t sure whether it came from her concern or from the object now pressed against him.

But as a palace guard, how could he accept a gift from a palace maid? If anyone found out, he himself might be fine, but Wei Yingluo would likely get into serious trouble. So he reached out to push it back: “No need. I’m not cold.”

Yet the young girl before him simply smiled. Not only did she return the gift properly, she even prepared an excuse for him: “If anyone asks, just say it was sent by a maid from the Empress’s side on Her Majesty’s orders. What, is the Empress not even allowed to care for her own younger brother now?”

Fucha Fuheng was still somewhat hesitant, but then he saw her slowly lower her head and let out a soft sigh.

“You gave me medicine, and I wanted to give you something in return too… but I really don’t have anything decent to offer…” Wei Yingluo said quietly. “Do you… perhaps dislike it…?”

“…I don’t dislike it.” After a moment of silence, Fucha Fuheng raised his hand and accepted the warm pig’s bladder. “Thank you.”

Wei Yingluo suddenly lifted her head and gave him a bright smile.

For the next several hours, Fucha Fuheng felt somewhat distracted and out of sorts. The image of Wei Yingluo’s smile kept floating before his eyes—like the sudden arrival of spring wind in the night, causing thousands and tens of thousands of pear trees to burst into blossom.

“Achoo!” His friend beside him, Hailancha, suddenly sneezed, then rubbed his arms. “What season is this already? The wind in the Forbidden City is still freezing—blows straight down my collar, ugh!”

The other guards weren’t faring much better. The biting wind cut through them, leaving the group of duty-bound guards shivering, teeth chattering. Yet none could leave their posts; they could only stamp their feet in place or rub their bodies to generate a little warmth.

Among this crowd of guards whose faces had turned pale from the cold, Fucha Fuheng—with his normal (even slightly flushed) complexion—stood out conspicuously.

“…What are you hiding in your robes?” Hailancha had sharp eyes and even quicker hands. Before he even finished speaking, his hand had already darted forward and snatched the pig’s bladder from Fucha Fuheng’s chest. The sudden heat made him shudder with delight, and he exclaimed in surprise, “Whoa, what is this thing? Hah—so warm!”

As he spoke, he hurriedly stuffed it into his own robes.

“Give it back!” Fucha Fuheng immediately reached to grab it.

Having practiced martial arts together since childhood, though Fucha Fuheng was strong, Hailancha was no slouch either. The two traded quick, close-quarters moves, and for a moment Fucha Fuheng couldn’t get it back.

“Why so nervous?” Hailancha even had the leisure to tease him. “Don’t tell me someone gave this to you? The thing itself looks plain, but the thought behind it is clever. Looking at how tense you are, I’m guessing it wasn’t a man who gave it to you… Could it be… some little palace maid showing you favor?”

Fucha Fuheng hurriedly denied it: “It’s not!”

“Not?” Hailancha immediately grinned mischievously. “If it really was from a woman, I wouldn’t dare take it. But since it isn’t, then what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine between brothers—I’ll accept it without hesitation, haha—ahhh!”

His joy turned to disaster. With a miserable cry, the tall, burly man suddenly rolled onto the ground. Just moments ago he had been complaining about the cold; now he pressed his chest tightly against the icy snow. Still not enough, he frantically scooped handfuls of snow and stuffed them inside his robes.

“Hailancha! Hailancha! What’s wrong?” Fucha Fuheng hurriedly crouched down to check. When he saw the situation clearly, he was first startled, then furious. “…How could this…”

“Wei Yingluo!”

Wei Yingluo, who had been sweeping snow, paused her broom and turned around. “What is it?”

A palace maid said to her, “Guard Fucha is waiting for you by the well behind the palace. He says he has something to ask you.”

So soon? Wei Yingluo was momentarily stunned, then nodded. “Thank you. I’ll go right now!”

By the same well where they had parted that morning, the two met once again.

The same wind and snow, the same red clothes—the only difference was his attitude.

Fucha Fuheng abruptly seized Wei Yingluo’s wrist, gazing down at her with an indescribable fury in his eyes. “What deep grudge do I have against you that you would harm me like this!”

Wei Yingluo lifted her head to look at him, feigning surprise. “Young Master, what are you talking about?”

“That pig’s bladder!” Fucha Fuheng said in a low, heavy voice. Besides anger, his eyes held mostly disappointment. “It exploded.”

But unexpectedly, in the next second, something warm pressed into his embrace.

Soft and fragrant like jade—it was a young woman’s hand.

The overwhelming rage was instantly dispelled by half with her gentle touch and caress. Fucha Fuheng recoiled as if pierced by a sword, staggering back several steps until he bumped against the well. The cold stone rim against his back finally steadied him, though his face remained flushed as he stammered, “What are you doing?”

“How could a pig’s bladder explode?” Wei Yingluo pressed closer, her body leaning into him as both hands reached once more toward his chest. “Let me see—did it burn you?”

She moved so quickly, so unhesitatingly, it was as if she intended to drag them both into the well together.

Fucha Fuheng hurriedly caught her. Planting his feet firmly, he stood like a pine tree rooted in rock and sighed. “It wasn’t me. It was my friend Hailancha—he got scalded by the pig’s bladder.”

Wei Yingluo froze for a moment, then slowly lowered her head, hiding her current expression in shadow. She spoke softly, “It’s good that it wasn’t Young Master who was hurt. I must have been too anxious—I only wanted to deliver the gift to you as soon as possible. I didn’t seal the opening of the pig’s bladder tightly enough… Your friend… is he alright?”

“It’s nothing serious, though the burn isn’t light.” Fucha Fuheng paused, then narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You really didn’t do it on purpose?”

Wei Yingluo slowly raised her head. Snowflakes melted on her skin, piece by piece. The warm breath she exhaled almost reached his face, and the heat made Fucha Fuheng’s own cheeks burn. He even felt that without any explanation, he would believe her.

“Young Master, are you really alright?” Wei Yingluo slowly lifted one hand and gently touched his cheek. “Your face is so red—did you get burned too?”

Fucha Fuheng quickly grabbed her disobedient hand. “No, I didn’t…”

“But your face is very red.” Wei Yingluo’s gaze shifted to his hand. “And your hand is very hot.”

Fucha Fuheng released her hand as if scalded, turned around in obvious embarrassment, and strode away.

Behind him came the girl’s clear, melodious laughter, bright as an oriole’s song: “Young Master, actually, pig bladders filled with ice in the summer feel wonderfully cool against the skin. One of these days I’ll make another one for you to use in the summer!”

Fucha Fuheng didn’t even have the courage to turn back and reply. He fled in disarray all the way back to the guards’ duty room, where he arrived just as the imperial physician had finished changing the dressing on Hailancha’s wound and was packing up his medicine box.

“Alas, why is my fate so bitter?” Hailancha lay on the bed, sighing dramatically. “I didn’t die on the battlefield, but I nearly got blown up by a hot-water bottle.”

“Evildoers live a thousand years—don’t worry, you won’t die.” Fucha Fuheng saw the physician out, then pulled over a stool and sat beside him, asking with concern, “What did the physician say? Is it serious? Do you need me to approve some leave for you?”

“Then approve ten days off so I can escape this damned weather.” Hailancha unceremoniously demanded leave, and when Fucha Fuheng readily agreed, he relaxed. Then, with his usual playful tone, he began to tease, “I took this injury in your place—how about it? Tell me about your sweetheart.”

Hailancha had made such jokes many times before, but this time Fucha Fuheng actually paused. A flush crept over his face. After a moment’s hesitation, he replied, “…There’s no sweetheart.”

Hailancha immediately saw an opening. Forgetting his injury entirely, he sat bolt upright on the bed, eyes gleaming with interest. “Fuheng, even though that thing exploded, I still have to speak fairly! Preparing a pig’s bladder is such a hassle—you have to thread it with hemp cord to seal it, and boil it for two whole nights. For someone to go to so much trouble for you… what else could it be but that her heart is secretly set on you!”

“So much trouble?” Fucha Fuheng suddenly snapped back to attention—he realized the other man was fishing for information!

“Isn’t it?” Hailancha clapped him on the shoulder, grinning broadly. “I’d bet my life on it—that girl who gave you the hot-water bottle has fallen for you! And you? Do you like her? Which part do you like about her?”

“Which part?”

In an instant, countless images flooded into Fucha Fuheng’s mind.

Her clothes dyed red like rouge against the winter snow.

Her smile that burst forth like pear blossoms covering a thousand trees in a single night of spring wind.

The smooth, slippery skin of her wrist that he had once held in his hand.

“Hey, hey, I’m asking you a question!” Hailancha shook his shoulder. “Which part?”

Every single one.

“…Shut up already!” Fucha Fuheng suddenly snapped, though he wasn’t sure whether he was angry at the other man or at himself.

“Hey, don’t go—come back, come back! It was just a joke, why are you mad!” Hailancha shouted after him at the top of his lungs, but he couldn’t stop Fucha Fuheng’s steps. Still, the reaction confirmed something for him. Grinning cheekily toward the departing figure, he called out, “It’s getting cold now. Next time your sweetheart gives you a new pig bladder warmer, remember to let your brother borrow it, ah!”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 37: Giving Medicine

Fucha Fuheng turned his face away, presenting only one flushed red ear toward her. He stood three steps away from Wei Yingluo — a distance from which he could flee at any moment.

“Take it,” he said.

Wei Yingluo hesitated for a moment, then reached out and accepted the medicine bottle from his hand.

Fucha Fuheng seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Turning his body slightly, he said, “This medicine is very effective for external injuries. Apply it once in the morning and once at night.”

Compared to the pain on her body, Wei Yingluo cared more about his current attitude. She cautiously studied him. “Young Master, why are you avoiding me?”

“…” The question seemed to leave Fucha Fuheng somewhat embarrassed. After a long pause, he gave a cough and said, “A man should not look directly at a woman’s body. You… you should pull your sleeve down.”

Only then did Wei Yingluo remember that earlier, in order to inspect her own injury, she had rolled one sleeve all the way up to her shoulder, leaving her entire arm exposed in front of him—snow-white like a freshly cut lotus root growing in clear green water.

She slowly lowered her sleeve and said softly, “All right, you can turn around now.”

Only then did Fucha Fuheng turn back. He was truly rather thin-skinned; he had only seen a woman’s arm, yet his face had flushed red. He looked both awkward and pure, yet completely unaware of it himself. Maintaining his usual stern and untouchable demeanor, he asked her:

“Why did you set fire to the bed curtains today? Do you realize that if things had gone slightly wrong, you could have burned Noble Lady Yu to death—and yourself along with her?”

“I know it was extremely dangerous. But in that situation, it was the only way to draw everyone’s attention.” Wei Yingluo said in a low voice, “Think about it—if I had shouted for help and said that Noble Consort Hui was trying to kill someone, who would have dared enter Yonghe Palace? They would all have been afraid of getting involved in such a matter and would have simply pretended not to hear. But when a fire breaks out in the palace, it’s completely different. Everyone comes running to put it out. That way, Noble Lady Yu and I might have a chance to be saved.”

Remembering how she had looked so desperate and helpless when she cried out to him for help, Fucha Fuheng’s heart softened, and his tone became gentler as well:

“What if no one had arrived in time and Noble Consort Hui broke in first?”

Wei Yingluo suddenly raised her head and looked straight at him. “But you came, didn’t you?”

Fucha Fuheng was stunned by her words.

Clearly her clothes were properly in place, she hadn’t exposed anything improper, she wasn’t smiling at him, and she hadn’t done anything out of line—yet he still wanted to avoid her gaze.

Afraid she would notice that his face had flushed again.

“Young Master…” Wei Yingluo took one step closer. “Are you unwell? Your face looks a little red…”

She reached out a hand as if to feel his forehead.

Fucha Fuheng hurriedly took a step back.

“Sorry.” Seeming to realize her current behavior was inappropriate, Wei Yingluo withdrew her hand and gave him an apologetic smile.

Unable to tell whether he felt disappointment or relief in his heart, Fucha Fuheng said in a low voice:

“Be more careful next time. Don’t… don’t smile at men like that anymore. Hasn’t your mother ever taught you what proper conduct is for a lady of good family?”

Wei Yingluo stopped smiling and said indifferently, “I am not a lady of good family, and I have no mother.”

Fucha Fuheng was taken aback. While he was still searching for words to smooth things over, he heard Wei Yingluo speak again.

“I only have one older sister. Her name is Wei Yingning.” After a brief pause, Wei Yingluo smiled. “But here in the palace, she has another name—A-Man.”

Fucha Fuheng’s expression changed abruptly.

“What’s wrong?” Wei Yingluo stared at him, refusing to miss even the slightest change. “Young Master, do you know my sister?”

“I don’t.” Fucha Fuheng paused. “The medicine has been delivered. There are matters awaiting me at the Imperial Guard station. I’ll take my leave.”

It would be more accurate to say he fled in panic rather than left on an excuse.

He left so hurriedly that he failed to notice that, even after he was gone, Wei Yingluo remained standing in the same spot without moving, her fingers gripping the medicine bottle so tightly they turned white, staring after him with an expressionless face.

“This is top-quality wound medicine—ordinary people can’t obtain it. Only high-ranking military officers have access to it.”

That night, when Momo Zhang came to check on her and brought along a bottle of medicine, although it too had been obtained from the imperial physicians, compared to the bottle of military-grade wound ointment sitting on the table, it was like the difference between heaven and earth.

Wei Yingluo lay face-down on the bed, her clothes completely removed, her smooth back exposed. The most serious of her injuries was not on her arm, but on her back—in a place she couldn’t reach herself.

Tilting her head to glance at the jade-like, lustrous medicine bottle on the table, Wei Yingluo said coolly:

“It was sent by Fucha Fuheng. For now, I don’t want to use it.”

Hearing the coldness in her voice, Momo Zhang shook her head. While applying medicine to her wounds, she gently advised:

“Are you still suspecting him?”

“I saw Fucha Fuheng today,” Wei Yingluo said with a smile. “He claimed he doesn’t know my sister.”

“But the look on his face told an entirely different story… Ouch!”

Momo Zhang quickly lightened her touch. “How is it now? Still hurt? Listen, child—everything needs evidence. Without proof, how can you accuse him of being the murderer?”

“Evidence?” A flash of ruthlessness passed through Wei Yingluo’s eyes. “Momo, you knew my sister too. You know what kind of person she was. If she had picked up something as valuable as a jade pendant, she would have returned it to its owner without question. Yet she kept it. There are only two possibilities: either the owner was her lover, or her enemy. My sister already had someone she loved. Even if he had heartlessly abandoned her, she would never have changed her feelings so easily. That leaves only one explanation—Fuheng humiliated her!”

“It’s still just your speculation!” Momo Zhang knew she was already somewhat obsessed, so she tried to reason with her carefully. “Perhaps your sister really did find the jade pendant by chance and didn’t know who the owner was, so she couldn’t return it. Or maybe… Fuheng did know your sister, but had nothing to do with her death…”

Wei Yingluo’s expression shifted between dark and light. After a long pause, she slowly exhaled. “Momo, you said my sister lost her chastity and stubbornly refused to reveal who the man was. In the palace, the only men are the Emperor and the Imperial Guards. If it had been the Emperor, it would have been an honor—a sign of imperial favor. There would have been nothing to hide. That leaves only the palace guards. My sister appeared gentle on the outside, but she was fiercely resolute inside. If she had been insulted for no reason, she would have demanded justice. The only reason she didn’t speak wasn’t that she didn’t want to—it was that she didn’t dare! She was afraid of implicating our family, afraid of dragging our father and me down with her. Who could inspire such terror in her? Only someone with immense power and status—Fucha Fuheng!”

She suddenly turned and stared at Momo Zhang, her gaze sharp as a drawn dagger, fierce as a lit fuse. Through gritted teeth she said, “He is the pampered young master of the noble Fucha clan, the Empress’s own younger brother, the Emperor’s most trusted confidant, a future Grand Minister of the Imperial Guard. How could such a scandal be allowed to stain his name? That is exactly why my sister was murdered to silence her!”

“Enough…” Momo Zhang’s head throbbed painfully.

“Momo, can you swear it’s absolutely impossible?” Wei Yingluo challenged.

Momo Zhang was momentarily speechless.

If Wei Yingluo had simply been stubbornly unreasonable, she could have scolded her harshly. The problem was that there really was a possibility—and with the jade pendant as concrete evidence, the possibility was quite strong.

“…Fine. Even if it was Fucha Fuheng, what do you intend to do?” Momo Zhang asked helplessly. “What can you possibly do?”

“What can I do?” Wei Yingluo scoffed with icy disdain. “Naturally, a life for a life. A debt must be repaid!”

Momo Zhang had always known her temperament was fierce, but she hadn’t expected it to reach this extreme. Startled, she quickly grabbed the girl’s hand. “You mustn’t act rashly! If not for yourself, then think of your sister. Did she raise you with such hardship just so you could throw your life away?”

Wei Yingluo froze—not out of fear of death, but because of the tears glistening in the older woman’s eyes.

She couldn’t help remembering the words Momo Zhang had sighed earlier: “No one… would cry for someone who means nothing to them.”

“…You’re right,” Wei Yingluo said, lowering her head, moved and a little ashamed. “I can’t die yet.”

As long as there was still someone in this world who cared about her, she could not die. She was afraid that if she died, that person might become a second version of herself—trapped in pain and hatred, willing to sacrifice everything for revenge.

“Good child, good child…” Momo Zhang tenderly stroked her hair. “Come, turn over. Let Momo continue applying the medicine.”

Wei Yingluo obediently murmured in agreement.

The rough, calloused fingers, together with the fiery, stinging medicine, landed once more on Wei Yingluo’s shoulder.

She gritted her teeth and endured. Though her body was covered in wounds, though there might have been better options available… she refused to use even a single drop of the medicine sent by Fucha Fuheng.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 36: The Mastermind Behind the Scenes

   “Your Highness, Your Highness, something terrible has happened!” Zhilan came rushing back and reported to Noble Consort Hui, “A lot of people are coming from outside! They’re all heading straight for Yonghe Palace!”

The eunuchs who had been ramming the door immediately stopped and turned to look at Noble Consort Hui.

“What are you staring at?” Noble Consort Hui refused to give up halfway. Gritting her teeth, she ordered, “The people haven’t arrived yet—hurry up and break the door down! Otherwise, you’ll all pay dearly!”

“Yes, Your Highness!”

They battered the door for a long time until finally it could no longer hold.

With a thunderous crash, the door—and the tables and chairs barricading it from behind—were all flung open.

Noble Consort Hui was overjoyed. Leading her group, she charged into the hall. Her gaze swept around and landed on the brazier placed by the window. Inside it, not only were ingot-shaped candles burning, but torn bed curtains and gauze hangings had also been thrown in. Thick black smoke billowed out of the basin and straight out the window, darkening half the sky.

Her eyes slowly shifted and settled on the culprit standing beside the brazier. First came surprise, then a surge of fury at being toyed with: “It’s actually you!”

That fool who had eaten seven bowls of lotus-root starch dumplings right in front of her!

Someone who could save Noble Lady Yu from an assassin eunuch’s hands, and who could summon the entire palace with fireworks as a call for help—how could such a person possibly be a real fool!

In that instant, Noble Consort Hui completely forgot about Noble Lady Yu. She raised her hand and pointed directly at Wei Yingluo: “Kill her!”

One by one, the eunuchs advanced toward Wei Yingluo like spiders crawling across a net from every direction—there was nowhere to run. As they drew closer, their dark shadows crept over her face. Suddenly, a ray of light pierced into her eyes. Her gaze brightened. With every ounce of strength in her body, she shouted: “Lord Fucha, save me!”

That beam of light rushed to her side.

Stepping in front of Wei Yingluo to shield her, sword drawn and pointed at the several eunuchs ahead, Fucha Fuheng demanded gravely, “Noble Consort Your Highness, what exactly is going on here?”

Noble Consort Hui’s red lips parted lightly. The words to ruin someone’s reputation came easily: “I was merely passing by Yonghe Palace today and thought to pay a visit to Noble Lady Yu on the way. We happened upon this maidservant attempting murder, so naturally we had to apprehend her!”

Wei Yingluo had long anticipated she would say exactly that. She immediately replied, “The truth will be clear once Noble Lady Yu wakes up and is asked.”

Only then did everyone notice the unconscious Noble Lady Yu. Some rushed forward to check on her; others hurried out to fetch an imperial physician. When the physician finally arrived to examine Noble Lady Yu’s condition, Fucha Fuheng pulled Wei Yingluo aside and asked in a low voice, “What exactly happened? Tell me clearly.”

“I was sent here by Her Majesty the Empress to visit Noble Lady Yu. I discovered this eunuch trying to strangle her.” Wei Yingluo pointed at the culprit, who had just regained consciousness on the floor. “I couldn’t overpower him, so I could only run outside the hall to call for help. Then I ran into Noble Consort Hui. The moment she saw me, she immediately ordered my death! With no other choice, I hid inside the main hall and used smoke to draw everyone here to save myself!”

Fucha Fuheng’s gaze fell on the man. His voice turned cold and sharp: “Speak. Who are you? Who sent you?”

Compared to Wei Yingluo, this eunuch’s presence was far more suspicious.

He was covered in blood, and upon questioning, it turned out he wasn’t even from Yonghe Palace at all.

Now surrounded by everyone, he slowly lifted his head. On his blood-smeared face appeared a strange, eerie smile as he said:

“It was Her Majesty the Empress who sent me.”

“When has I ever ordered you to commit murder?”

Everyone turned toward the sound and saw that the Empress had somehow already appeared at the doorway. She had clearly overheard the eunuch’s words just now. Her usually serene and uncompetitive face now displayed a rare flash of anger.

The eunuch cast a nearly imperceptible glance toward Noble Consort Hui. Noble Consort Hui narrowed her eyes slightly. He immediately lowered his head again and kowtowed frantically to the Empress, knocking his forehead against the ground like pounding garlic:

“Empress Dowager—Your Majesty the Empress—this slave didn’t want to speak out, but now the matter has been exposed and I truly have no choice but to say it! You lost your legitimate son and harbored resentment toward Noble Lady Yu for carrying the dragon fetus. Using the pretext of arranging personnel through the Imperial Household Department, you planted this slave in Yonghe Palace and instructed me to seize the opportunity to eliminate Noble Lady Yu! Today is the seventh seventh-day memorial for Concubine Yi—palace rules forbid any formal mourning—so Noble Lady Yu had to dismiss everyone else. Only then did this slave find the chance—”

“Nonsense!” The Empress trembled with rage. Already unwell, her vision darkened even further. If Erqing hadn’t been supporting her, she might have collapsed to the floor.

“Empress, please take care of your health!” Fucha Fuheng hurriedly tried to calm her. When he turned to look at the eunuch, his eyes were as cold and sharp as blade-light. In a few strides he reached the man, seized him by the collar, and lifted him up.

“Who told you to frame the Empress? Do you realize this is a crime punishable by extermination of the nine familial exterminations!”

“This slave wouldn’t dare! If Her Majesty hadn’t ordered it, how could this slave have dared to come and kill someone? Now that Her Majesty denies it and turns her back, this slave has nothing more to say! I only beg for death—so that I may repay Her Majesty’s grace with perfect loyalty!” As he finished speaking, the corners of the eunuch’s mouth actually curved upward. He smiled slightly toward Fucha Fuheng. As he smiled, a line of dark reddish-black blood trickled from the corner of his lips.

Fucha Fuheng was greatly shocked and shouted at once: “Imperial physician!”

The imperial physician, who had been diagnosing Noble Lady Yu inside, hurried out. He placed his fingers on the eunuch’s neck, then pried open his eyelids and lips to examine them. Shaking his head, he said to Fucha Fuheng:

“Poison hidden between the teeth—extremely virulent. He cannot be saved.”

Dead men tell no tales—these four words flashed violently through Fucha Fuheng’s mind.

“He’s lying.” Just as Fucha Fuheng was burning with anxiety, a cool, clear voice sounded beside his ear. He looked over and saw Wei Yingluo standing tall. Though her hairpins were disheveled, her proud bearing remained unyielding—like an ancient pine clinging to a sheer cliff. She spoke coldly to the assembled crowd:

“If the Empress truly intended to kill Noble Lady Yu, why would she have instructed me to come and visit her? Imperial physician, please tell everyone: how many wounds does this eunuch have on his body?”

Though the physician didn’t fully understand her intent, at a glance from Fucha Fuheng he answered honestly:

“This eunuch has three wounds in total: one blood mark on the neck left by a hairpin tip, and a swollen lump on the back of the head from being struck by a heavy object.”

“I did those.” Wei Yingluo admitted quickly. At the same time she rolled up one sleeve, revealing mottled blue and purple bruises. “I have quite a few similar injuries on my own body—all from struggling with him. So I ask you: if the Empress really wanted to take Noble Lady Yu’s life, why would she send me here to stop him? Isn’t that completely contradictory?”

Seeing the crowd fall into thoughtful silence, Noble Consort Hui narrowed her eyes and lightly tossed out:

“Perhaps… the Empress sent you here to silence him by killing him?”

“Look at how wretched I appear.” Wei Yingluo walked a few steps in front of everyone, deliberately displaying her injuries, her disheveled hair, and her most miserable state for all to see. Then she smiled and asked:

“If I had come here to kill and silence him, why would I arrive empty-handed? Not even a dagger—let alone any kind of club!”

Indeed—how could that be?

The difference in strength between a man and a woman was already vast. Without even a convenient weapon, forget about killing to silence someone—she might very well have been the one silenced instead.

“But you, on the other hand…” Wei Yingluo suddenly fixed her gaze on the group of palace servants standing behind the other woman and asked softly, “Why exactly did you come to Yonghe Palace today? If you claim it was to visit, then why arrive empty-handed, bringing only a crowd of fierce and menacing eunuchs…?”

The way everyone looked at Noble Consort Hui instantly changed.

“Insolent!” Noble Consort Hui snapped in fury. “How dare you suspect me!”

The palace servants behind her all turned their eyes toward her. At a single command from her, they would rush forward and seize Wei Yingluo.

“I however, feels that not a single word she said was wrong!”

But in this place there was yet another person of far higher status. With just one sentence from her, no one would dare lay a hand on Wei Yingluo.

After resting for a moment, the Empress had recovered somewhat. Supported by Erqing, she walked slowly up to Noble Consort Hui. Their eyes met. In a calm voice she said:

“Yingluo has already given her explanation. And you, Noble Consort Hui—what explanation do you have for your actions?”

Wei Yingluo’s words had effectively cleared the path for her.

Dead men tell no tales—this applied not only to the Empress, but to Noble Consort Hui as well.

   When judging only by words, only by motive, the two were equally matched—neither could escape suspicion. And in fact, Noble Consort Hui’s suspicion was even heavier.

   If this matter were brought before the Emperor, whom do you think he would help? Whom would he believe?

   With so many eyes watching and so many ears listening, Noble Consort Hui had no choice but to take a deep breath and swallow her pride: “…I was wrong. How could one believe the words of a murderer? It must be that he deliberately slandered Your Ladyship in order to conceal the true mastermind behind it.”

“Indeed, how could one believe the words of a murderer.” The Empress spoke in a tone that was half admonishment and half warning, “You are a Noble Consort. Every word and every action of yours serves as an example to others. You should be even more cautious in your speech and conduct. Very well, return to Chuxiu Palace and reflect carefully on your mistakes!”

The Empress’s mind was as clear as snow — she had already pieced together almost the entire sequence of events and their causes.

On the way back to Changchun Palace, she raised her hand to summon Wei Yingluo to her side. With Yingluo supporting her arm, she walked slowly and said, “Noble Consort Hui has suffered this hidden loss today. She will surely hate you to the bone. Are you afraid?”

“I am afraid,” Wei Yingluo replied softly with lowered eyes, “but for Your Ladyship the Empress, and for Noble Lady Yu, I had to say those words.”

The Empress smiled with satisfaction, her gaze toward Yingluo filled with affection and pity. “If not for those few sentences of yours today, this basin of dirty water would have been impossible for me to wash clean. Good child, rest assured — this Palace will never allow Noble Consort Hui to touch a single hair on your head.”

The meaning behind her words was clear: she intended to cultivate Wei Yingluo as a trusted confidante.

A confidante, naturally, could not be treated like ordinary little palace maids or eunuchs who could be casually handed over to others. She had to be protected and cherished like wings growing from her own body.

“Thank you, Your Ladyship.” After expressing her gratitude, Wei Yingluo tentatively asked, “But… are we just going to let this matter drop like this?”

“The most important witness is already dead. With only empty words and no proof, even if we brought the matter before the Emperor, what could His Majesty do?” Thoroughly versed in palace ways and now intending to nurture her, the Empress patiently explained to Wei Yingluo, “Most importantly, Noble Lady Yu also did something she should not have done…”

“You mean…” Wei Yingluo furrowed her brows.

“I know she and Concubine Yi were as close as sisters, and Concubine Yi died because of her. That is why, on the day of Concubine Yi’s seventh-week memorial, she dismissed everyone around her and secretly set up a private spirit tablet to pay respects to her departed friend.” The Empress narrowed her eyes. “But you must understand — in the Forbidden City, only masters are entitled to receive sacrificial rites. What Noble Lady Yu did may be called a minor violation of palace regulations at best, or at worst, an open curse against the Emperor and the Empress Dowager. Therefore, even to protect Noble Lady Yu and the child in her womb, this matter cannot be made public — especially not brought before His Majesty!”

“This servant understands…” Though Wei Yingluo said this, a trace of “the fox mourns the death of the hare” sorrow rose in her heart.

Poor Concubine Yi.

Just like her own sister, she suffered an unjust injustice, and even after death she had no proper spirit tablet. In the whole world, only one person remembered her and secretly offered sacrifices to her.

As her mood grew heavy, the pain from her injuries flared up again. Not wanting to grimace in front of the Empress, Wei Yingluo supported her all the way back to Changchun Palace. Only after the Empress had taken her medicine and fallen asleep did she quietly withdraw, limping toward her own room.

There was no one on the path. Wei Yingluo rolled up one sleeve and looked at the bruises on her snow-white arm, frowning inwardly: Perhaps I should go to the Imperial Physician and ask for a bottle of medicine.

“Here, take this.”

A man’s voice suddenly came from in front of her.

Wei Yingluo’s steps halted. Slowly, she raised her head.

Before her was a small bottle of snow-white medicine.

Her gaze followed the bottle, sliding along the hand that held it — distinct knuckles, long and strong — until it finally reached his face. Somewhat surprised, Wei Yingluo asked, “Young Master…”

Fucha Fuheng turned his face away, presenting only one flushed red ear toward her. He stood three steps away from Wei Yingluo — a distance from which he could flee at any moment.

“Take it,” he said.

Wei Yingluo hesitated for a moment, then reached out and accepted the medicine bottle from his hand.

Fucha Fuheng seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Turning his body slightly, he said, “This medicine is very effective for external injuries. Apply it once in the morning and once at night.”

Compared to the pain on her body, Wei Yingluo cared more about his current attitude. She cautiously studied him. “Young Master, why are you avoiding me?”

“……” The question seemed to leave Fucha Fuheng somewhat embarrassed. After a long pause, he gave a cough and said, “A man should not look directly at a woman’s body. You… you should pull your sleeve down.”

Only then did Wei Yingluo remember that earlier, in order to inspect her own injury, she had rolled one sleeve all the way up to her shoulder, leaving her entire arm exposed in front of him—snow-white like a freshly cut lotus root growing in clear green water.

She slowly lowered her sleeve and said softly, “All right, you can turn around now.”

Only then did Fucha Fuheng turn back. He was truly rather thin-skinned; he had only seen a woman’s arm, yet his face had flushed red. He looked both awkward and pure, yet completely unaware of it himself. Maintaining his usual stern and untouchable demeanor, he asked her:

“Why did you set fire to the bed curtains today? Do you realize that if things had gone slightly wrong, you could have burned Noble Lady Yu to death—and yourself along with her?”

“I know it was extremely dangerous. But in that situation, it was the only way to draw everyone’s attention.” Wei Yingluo said in a low voice, “Think about it—if I had shouted for help and said that Noble Consort Hui was trying to kill someone, who would have dared enter Yonghe Palace? They would all have been afraid of getting involved in such a matter and would have simply pretended not to hear. But when a fire breaks out in the palace, it’s completely different. Everyone comes running to put it out. That way, Noble Lady Yu and I might have a chance to be saved.”

Remembering how she had looked so desperate and helpless when she cried out to him for help, Fucha Fuheng’s heart softened, and his tone became gentler as well:

“What if no one had arrived in time and Noble Consort Hui broke in first?”

Wei Yingluo suddenly raised her head and looked straight at him. “But you came, didn’t you?”

Fucha Fuheng was stunned by her words.

Clearly her clothes were properly in place, she hadn’t exposed anything improper, she wasn’t smiling at him, and she hadn’t done anything out of line—yet he still wanted to avoid her gaze.

Afraid she would notice that his face had flushed again.

“Young Master…” Wei Yingluo took one step closer. “Are you unwell? Your face looks a little red…”

She reached out a hand as if to feel his forehead.

Fucha Fuheng hurriedly took a step back.

“Sorry.” Seeming to realize her current behavior was inappropriate, Wei Yingluo withdrew her hand and gave him an apologetic smile.

Unable to tell whether he felt disappointment or relief in his heart, Fucha Fuheng said in a low voice:

“Be more careful next time. Don’t… don’t smile at men like that anymore. Hasn’t your mother ever taught you what proper conduct is for a lady of good family?”

Wei Yingluo stopped smiling and said indifferently, “I am not a lady of good family, and I have no mother.”

Fucha Fuheng was taken aback. While he was still searching for words to smooth things over, he heard Wei Yingluo speak again.

“I only have one older sister. Her name is Wei Yingning.” After a brief pause, Wei Yingluo smiled. “But here in the palace, she has another name—A-Man.”

Fucha Fuheng’s expression changed abruptly.

“What’s wrong?” Wei Yingluo stared at him, refusing to miss even the slightest change. “Young Master, do you know my sister?”

“I don’t.” Fucha Fuheng paused. “The medicine has been delivered. There are matters awaiting me at the Imperial Guard station. I’ll take my leave.”

It would be more accurate to say he fled in panic rather than left on an excuse.

He left so hurriedly that he failed to notice that, even after he was gone, Wei Yingluo remained standing in the same spot without moving, her fingers gripping the medicine bottle so tightly they turned white, staring after him with an expressionless face.

“This is top-quality wound medicine—ordinary people can’t obtain it. Only high-ranking military officers have access to it.”

That night, when Momo Zhang came to check on her and brought along a bottle of medicine, although it too had been obtained from the imperial physicians, compared to the bottle of military-grade wound ointment sitting on the table, it was like the difference between heaven and earth.

Wei Yingluo lay face-down on the bed, her clothes completely removed, her smooth back exposed. The most serious of her injuries was not on her arm, but on her back—in a place she couldn’t reach herself.

Tilting her head to glance at the jade-like, lustrous medicine bottle on the table, Wei Yingluo said coolly:

“It was sent by Fucha Fuheng. For now, I don’t want to use it.”

Hearing the coldness in her voice, Momo Zhang shook her head. While applying medicine to her wounds, she gently advised:

“Are you still suspecting him?”

“I saw Fucha Fuheng today,” Wei Yingluo said with a smile. “He claimed he doesn’t know my sister.”

“But the look on his face told an entirely different story… Ouch!”

Momo Zhang quickly lightened her touch. “How is it now? Still hurt? Listen, child—everything needs evidence. Without proof, how can you accuse him of being the murderer?”

“Evidence?” A flash of ruthlessness passed through Wei Yingluo’s eyes. “Momo, you knew my sister too. You know what kind of person she was. If she had picked up something as valuable as a jade pendant, she would have returned it to its owner without question. Yet she kept it. There are only two possibilities: either the owner was her lover, or her enemy. My sister already had someone she loved. Even if he had heartlessly abandoned her, she would never have changed her feelings so easily. That leaves only one explanation—Fuheng humiliated her!”

“It’s still just your speculation!” Momo Zhang knew she was already somewhat obsessed, so she tried to reason with her carefully. “Perhaps your sister really did find the jade pendant by chance and didn’t know who the owner was, so she couldn’t return it. Or maybe… Fuheng did know your sister, but had nothing to do with her death…”

Wei Yingluo’s expression shifted between dark and light. After a long pause, she slowly exhaled. “Momo, you said my sister lost her chastity and stubbornly refused to reveal who the man was. In the palace, the only men are the Emperor and the Imperial Guards. If it had been the Emperor, it would have been an honor—a sign of imperial favor. There would have been nothing to hide. That leaves only the palace guards. My sister appeared gentle on the outside, but she was fiercely resolute inside. If she had been insulted for no reason, she would have demanded justice. The only reason she didn’t speak wasn’t that she didn’t want to—it was that she didn’t dare! She was afraid of implicating our family, afraid of dragging our father and me down with her. Who could inspire such terror in her? Only someone with immense power and status—Fucha Fuheng!”

She suddenly turned and stared at Momo Zhang, her gaze sharp as a drawn dagger, fierce as a lit fuse. Through gritted teeth she said, “He is the pampered young master of the noble Fucha clan, the Empress’s own younger brother, the Emperor’s most trusted confidant, a future Grand Minister of the Imperial Guard. How could such a scandal be allowed to stain his name? That is exactly why my sister was murdered to silence her!”

“Enough…” Momo Zhang’s head throbbed painfully.

“Momo, can you swear it’s absolutely impossible?” Wei Yingluo challenged.

Momo Zhang was momentarily speechless.

If Wei Yingluo had simply been stubbornly unreasonable, she could have scolded her harshly. The problem was that there really was a possibility—and with the jade pendant as concrete evidence, the possibility was quite strong.

“…Fine. Even if it was Fucha Fuheng, what do you intend to do?” Momo Zhang asked helplessly. “What can you possibly do?”

“What can I do?” Wei Yingluo scoffed with icy disdain. “Naturally, a life for a life. A debt must be repaid!”

Momo Zhang had always known her temperament was fierce, but she hadn’t expected it to reach this extreme. Startled, she quickly grabbed the girl’s hand. “You mustn’t act rashly! If not for yourself, then think of your sister. Did she raise you with such hardship just so you could throw your life away?”

Wei Yingluo froze—not out of fear of death, but because of the tears glistening in the older woman’s eyes.

She couldn’t help remembering the words Momo Zhang had sighed earlier: “No one… would cry for someone who means nothing to them.”

“…You’re right,” Wei Yingluo said, lowering her head, moved and a little ashamed. “I can’t die yet.”

As long as there was still someone in this world who cared about her, she could not die. She was afraid that if she died, that person might become a second version of herself—trapped in pain and hatred, willing to sacrifice everything for revenge.

“Good child, good child…” Momo Zhang tenderly stroked her hair. “Come, turn over. Let Momo continue applying the medicine.”

Wei Yingluo obediently murmured in agreement.

The rough, calloused fingers, together with the fiery, stinging medicine, landed once more on Wei Yingluo’s shoulder.

She gritted her teeth and endured. Though her body was covered in wounds, though there might have been better options available… she refused to use even a single drop of the medicine sent by Fucha Fuheng.

STORY OF YANXI PALACE CHAPTERS HOME

  

   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 35: Visiting the Sick

   “Drink this bowl of ginger soup.”

“Thank you for the gift, Master.”

Wei Yingluo accepted the bowl of ginger soup personally handed to her by the Empress. She took a small sip; the heat made her ice-cold body shiver.

“Thanks to you, the flowers in the garden were mostly saved.” The Empress looked at her curiously. “But how did you happen to be there?”

“Last night there was a lunar halo, and this morning black clouds gathered in the east. I suspected wind and rain were coming today and feared the courtyard flowers would suffer. So after finishing the morning sweeping of the inner and outer courtyards, I hurried over.” Wei Yingluo replied respectfully.

At her words, the Empress cast a sidelong glance at Ming Yu.

Sweeping both the inner and outer courtyards was not work one person could finish alone—it would normally take seven or eight palace maids working together. And if what she said was true, that she had swept the entire inner and outer courtyards in the morning, she must have gotten up before dawn. —Ming Yu, this didn’t quite match what you told me earlier.

   “Since you knew it would rain today, why didn’t you tell the others in advance?” After all, they had all been in Changchun Palace together for so long. Erqing, wanting to speak up for Ming Yu, asked Wei Yingluo, “If you had given everyone advance notice and prepared properly, the garden wouldn’t have lost so many flowers.”

Even with all her effort, one person’s strength has its limits. Though Wei Yingluo had done her utmost, she still couldn’t protect every single jasmine. The rain battered the petals, leaving the garden carpeted with fallen red.

“I did say so…” Wei Yingluo replied. Then, seemingly unintentionally, she glanced toward Ming Yu.

Though she hadn’t named anyone specifically, everyone in the palace had an extra pair of eyes compared to outsiders.

The Empress immediately understood whom her words were directed at. She glanced again at Erqing, who now kept her head lowered in silence, then gently shook her head. In a soft voice she said to Wei Yingluo:

“Enough for today—you don’t need to do any more work. Finish this bowl of ginger soup, go back and take a hot bath, then rest early. Don’t catch a cold.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Wei Yingluo finished the ginger soup and withdrew respectfully. From beginning to end, she never spoke a single bad word about Erqing.

But the disappointment in the Empress’s eyes could not be hidden.

“Master, I…” Erqing racked her brains, trying to find a reasonable excuse for her actions.

The Empress raised a hand, stopping her defense—or rather, stopping her from continuing to treat her like a fool.

“I have eyes. I can see for myself.” The Empress spoke half in warning, half in gentle admonishment. “Remember one thing: too many words inevitably lead to mistakes!”

Erqing appeared to lower her head in shame. But the moment the Empress turned away, she lifted a pair of eyes filled with bitter resentment.

The next day, Wei Yingluo did not catch a cold—but the Empress came down with a headache and fever.

From behind the hanging gauze curtain, a hand reached out. Imperial Physician Zhang placed his fingers on the pulse. After a long moment, he gave his diagnosis:

“Your Majesty’s headache and body aches are due to pent-up heat in the lung meridian combined with an external invasion of wind-cold. It is nothing serious. I will prescribe a dose of Qingjie Ningsou Yin, using fresh ginger and pear as guiding ingredients. With proper rest and care for half a month, Your Majesty’s health will be fully restored.”

The Empress reclined inside the bed curtains, her voice carrying a slight nasal tone: “Physician Zhang is a master of the medical arts. Of course We trust him—otherwise We would never have entrusted Noble Lady Yu to your care. Speaking of Noble Lady Yu, how has her health been lately?”

“This…” Physician Zhang hesitated for a moment before replying, “Your Majesty, Noble Lady Yu frequently suffers from dizziness. This humble physician has done his utmost to regulate her condition, yet the results have been minimal. At its root, Noble Lady Yu carries too many worries; her emotions are disordered. If this continues for long… I fear… I fear…”

“That it will affect the dragon fetus in her womb, is that it?” the Empress finished the words he dared not speak.

Physician Zhang let out a breath of relief and answered, “Yes.”

After having Physician Zhang escorted out, the Empress struggled to rise from the bed. “Erqing, help Us change clothes. cough cough We wish to go and visit Noble Lady Yu. cough cough cough…”

“Your Highness must not!” Erqing hurriedly patted her back to ease her breathing. “You have only just caught a chill. You should rest and recover properly—how can you go out into the wind at a time like this?”

A flicker of hesitation passed through the Empress’s eyes. She cared little for her own minor illness, but she feared passing it on to Noble Lady Yu and endangering the child in her belly. Her gaze shifted and landed on Ming Yu, who stood stiffly in the corner. Suddenly the Empress said, “Ming Yu, you shall go in Our place.”

“Me?” Ming Yu was stunned.

The Empress nodded. “Take the box of tribute ginseng that was just delivered from the storeroom. Deliver it to Yonghe Palace and tell Noble Lady Yu to focus on peacefully nurturing her pregnancy. We will visit her very soon.”

“…Yes.” Ming Yu’s reply was extremely reluctant.

As she left the storeroom with the ginseng box in hand, Ming Yu was filled with grievance. In the past, such trivial errands would have been handed off to any random low-ranking palace maid…

Suddenly she halted. Raising her voice toward the front, she called, “You there—come here!”

Wei Yingluo had been sweeping the main hall. Hearing the summons, she set down her broom and walked over.

Ming Yu raised her hand and tossed the ginseng box. It traced an arc through the air and was caught—barely—by Wei Yingluo.

“Go to Yonghe Palace. Tell Noble Lady Yu that the Empress has been thinking of her constantly and that she should rest easy and take good care of her pregnancy. Remember every word.” Having delivered the order, Ming Yu immediately turned and left, giving the other no chance to refuse.

Wei Yingluo had no intention of refusing anyway.

It had been a long time since she last saw her. She wondered how that pitiful Noble Lady Yu was faring.

Carrying the ginseng box, she left Changchun Palace, passed through corridors and wooded paths, and arrived at Yonghe Palace. The red doors were tightly shut. She raised her hand and knocked. “By order of the Empress, I have come to visit Noble Lady Yu. Please open the door.”

She waited a long while, but no one answered.

“Noble Lady Yu? Noble Lady Yu?” Wei Yingluo knocked again. “Is anyone there?”

Still no response.

A strange feeling rose in Wei Yingluo’s heart. This was not the outside world—inside the palace, even if the mistress had gone out to pay a visit, at least one or two eunuchs or maids would remain on duty.

She paced in front of the door a little longer, undecided whether to wait or leave, when suddenly—bang! —a loud crash came from inside.

A wave of foreboding surged through her. Wei Yingluo gritted her teeth and growled under her breath, “Noble Lady Yu—forgive the offense!”

She took a step back, then lowered her body and slammed into the door with all her strength. With a thunderous boom the doors flew open to both sides. She stumbled forward several steps, then stood frozen, staring in shock at the scene before her.

Inside Yonghe Palace, the room had been arranged like a funeral hall.

Incense candles, offerings, white cloth—everything was present. On the floor sat a bronze brazier; faint flames still flickered within, slowly consuming paper money and gold ingots.

A spirit tablet had rolled onto the ground—whether knocked over by someone or fallen from the table on its own, it was the sound of its fall that had prompted Wei Yingluo to rush in.

And then she saw—

Noble Lady Yu lay sprawled on the floor, her neck arched high, a length of white cloth wound tightly around it.

A eunuch was straddling her from behind, both hands wrapped tightly around the ends of a white cloth, pulling with such force that the veins on the backs of his hands bulged grotesquely.

“What are you doing!” Wei Yingluo shouted sharply.

Only then did the eunuch realize there was another person in the hall. A flash of murderous intent crossed his eyes. He abandoned Noble Lady Yu, lunged straight at Wei Yingluo, and clamped both hands around her throat in a vise-like grip—he clearly intended to kill her to silence her!

“Ahhh!!!”

A blood-curdling scream erupted—from the eunuch’s own mouth.

He staggered backward, his right hand clamped desperately over the side of his neck—where a hairpin now protruded.

Wei Yingluo had never been one to take a beating lying down. The moment he charged at her, she yanked the hairpin from her hair without a second thought and stabbed it straight toward him. If he hadn’t dodged in time, that single thrust would surely have gone straight into his eye.

The eunuch pulled the hairpin out and gripped it in his hand.

Wei Yingluo slowly retreated—she no longer had a second hairpin on her head.

Suddenly she spun around and ran, shouting as she went:

“Help! Someone, come quickly! There’s an assassin!”

She dashed all the way into the inner courtyard. Ahead came the chaotic sound of many footsteps. A flicker of joy had just appeared on Wei Yingluo’s face when it froze solid.

A group of palace maids and eunuchs was approaching in a menacing crowd, escorting a palace consort as gorgeously vivid as a peony in full bloom.

“Noble Consort Hui,” Wei Yingluo’s heart pounded wildly. “Why is she here?”

Something was wrong—very, very wrong.

Although Yonghe Palace was quiet and neglected, Noble Lady Yu was still a titled consort, and a pregnant one at that. There should have been at least some servants attending her.

Where had those people gone? Who had drawn them away, delayed them—or perhaps silenced them permanently?

And now this uninvited group right in front of her…

As they drew closer, Noble Consort Hui’s party also spotted Wei Yingluo. Seeing Noble Consort Hui frown, Zhilan immediately raised her hand and pointed straight at her:

“Seize her!”

Run!

Wei Yingluo whirled around and bolted back into the main hall. She slammed the doors shut, threw the bolt, then hurriedly dragged tables and chairs over to barricade the entrance.

“Someone! Break the door down!”

“Yes!”

A relentless barrage of pounding and crashing against the door rose and fell like waves growing ever more urgent against the shore.

Inside, the situation was equally dire. Seeing Wei Yingluo return, the eunuch gave a vicious grin and pounced at her again. The two grappled fiercely. Fortunately, his neck wound was still bleeding profusely. Wei Yingluo seized on that weakness, relentlessly digging her fingers into the gash.

Finally the eunuch could hold out no longer. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed to the floor.

“Huff… huff…” Wei Yingluo was in no better shape. Her clothes and hair were in utter disarray; several holes had been stabbed into her garments by the hairpin, and with every step she took, fresh blood soaked the fabric a deeper red. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she staggered over to Noble Lady Yu, lifted her up, and called urgently,

“Noble Lady, wake up—wake up!”

Noble Lady Yu remained unconscious.

“What do I do?” Wei Yingluo murmured. Her eyes swept the room once, finally settling on the brazier where paper money was still smoldering. After a brief hesitation, she clenched her teeth and muttered,

“No choice… I’ll have to borrow some outside help.”

Half a cup of tea later, the entire Forbidden City erupted into chaos.

“Quick—over here, over here!”

“This little bit of water isn’t enough—get a bigger bucket.”

“Coming, coming!”

Fucha Fuheng, who had been on his way to visit his sick older sister, stopped in his tracks. He grabbed a small eunuch hurrying past and asked, “What’s going on?”

The little eunuch was carrying a wooden bucket brimming with water. Panting heavily, he glanced behind him and said, “Over there… Yonghe Palace has caught fire.”

Fucha Fuheng was stunned. He turned back and looked toward Yonghe Palace. A thick column of rolling smoke shot straight up into the clouds.

STORY OF YANXI PALACE CHAPTERS HOME

  

   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 34: Young Master

   The first task Wei Yingluo was given upon arriving at Changchun Palace was sweeping.

It seemed someone greatly feared she might surpass them and win the Empress’s favor. Thus, the chores assigned to her were always the hardest and most tiring—and kept her farthest from the Empress.

“Anyway, the Empress only finds her novel for the moment. Give it ten days or half a month, and she’ll probably forget this person even exists.”

Overhearing these words from Ming Yu by chance, Wei Yingluo merely furrowed her brows slightly and said nothing.

If Ming Yu told her to sweep, then she swept—not only her own assigned area, but sometimes other people’s as well. Today was no different. Amid the mocking laughter of others, she swept alone near the main gate of Changchun Palace.

The advantage of frequently sweeping in such a place was that she could encounter a certain person—and be noticed by that person—without arousing anyone’s suspicion.

“Lord Fucha, you’ve arrived.” Ming Yu hurried forward with a smile. “This servant will go report to Her Highness at once!”

Fucha Fuheng stepped through the gate. Today he still wore his martial attire, yet the single tear-shaped mole beneath the corner of his eye lent him an air of refined, aristocratic elegance—like a young nobleman who carried poetry in one hand and wine in the other, whose horse’s hooves crushed the flowers of Luoyang; or perhaps a wandering swordsman dancing beneath the moon on the shores of West Lake.

As the Emperor’s favored minister and the Empress’s own younger brother, he enjoyed the privilege of entering and leaving Changchun Palace freely. Noticing the unfamiliar face now standing at the gate, he glanced over a few times.

His gaze dropped and settled on the old jade pendant hanging at her waist.

“…Lord Fucha?” Ming Yu’s eyes darted back and forth between him and Wei Yingluo. “What’s the matter? Her Highness is waiting for you inside.”

Fucha Fuheng came back to himself and gave her a small smile. “I’ll be right there.”

He took the lead and walked through the gate. Ming Yu shot Wei Yingluo a vicious glare before hurrying to catch up.

Watching the two of them depart, Wei Yingluo continued sweeping the fallen petals with calm, unhurried strokes of her broom. When the time came, the flowers that were meant to fall would fall; the person who was meant to come would come.

She did not have to wait long.

Before the small mound piled high with fallen flowers, a pair of men’s boots suddenly appeared.

The corner of Wei Yingluo’s lips curved upward. She slowly raised her head. A gust of wind swept past in an instant, sending a wisp of light, fluttering hair across her cheek along with an extremely pale white blossom. Smiling at the man standing before her, she said, “Fucha Guard, what brings you here?”

Fucha Fuheng stood in front of her, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the jade pendant at her waist.

Wei Yingluo unfastened the jade pendant, held it in her hand, and extended it slightly closer to him.

“What’s the matter with this jade pendant?”

Fucha Fuheng reflexively reached out to take it, but Wei Yingluo swiftly withdrew her hand.

“This jade pendant is the one I lost,” Fucha Fuheng replied helplessly.

“Oh?” Wei Yingluo looked at him with suspicion. “When and where did you lose it?”

“The time… I can’t quite remember clearly. It was probably… in the Imperial Garden.” Fucha Fuheng answered vaguely. “Please return it to me.”

“If you can’t even say when or where, how can I just hand it over so casually?” Wei Yingluo shook her head with a smile.

Fucha Fuheng pressed his lips together, looking deeply troubled.

A man as strikingly handsome as he was, once he showed such an expression, nine out of ten women in the world would find it impossible to refuse any request he made.

Unfortunately, Wei Yingluo was the iron-hearted tenth.

Seeing that the woman before him remained unmoved, Fucha Fuheng could only sigh and say, “The jade pendant has my name engraved on it. Besides that, there’s a small crack in the lower right corner—I accidentally dropped it and broke it. You can check for yourself.”

Wei Yingluo lowered her head to look at the jade pendant in her hand.

In truth, there was no need to inspect it. She already knew everything he said was correct.

Countless nights, countless days, countless nightmares—she had stared down at the name on the jade pendant, her fingers tracing and retracing the crack over and over.

How she wished this jade pendant could speak and answer her one question:

“Was this left behind by the real murderer?!”

   Wei Yingluo raised her head again. Inside, hatred and suspicion warred fiercely, yet her face betrayed none of it. Instead, her smile grew even sweeter and more captivating, like a flower exuding the fragrance of honey.

“Hold out your hand.”

Fucha Fuheng was momentarily stunned, then extended his right hand.

Wei Yingluo placed the jade pendant in his palm. Deliberately—or perhaps not—her soft fingertips brushed lightly against the center of his palm like a dragonfly skimming water, then gave a gentle, cat-like scratch.

Fucha Fuheng’s right hand trembled. The jade pendant nearly slipped from his grasp. In his haste to catch it, he quickly closed his fingers—accidentally enclosing Wei Yingluo’s small hand within them as well.

The man’s large hand completely enveloped the woman’s small one. The calluses left from years of gripping a sword pressed against the calluses formed from years of embroidery.

“Sorry!” Fucha Fuheng hastily released her hand and took several quick steps backward. The tips of his ears visibly flushed a faint red.

Wei Yingluo was also startled at first. She stepped back a few paces, shook her head, and said, “It’s all right, Young Master.”

That form of address made Fucha Fuheng raise an eyebrow.

“Young Master?”

“Her Majesty the Empress is my mistress. You are her brother, which naturally makes you my Young Master!” Wei Yingluo pronounced the words clearly—especially the two syllables of “Young Master.”

When spoken by a beauty as delicate and lovely as she was, any words from her lips sounded three parts more charming—let alone the soft, melodious way she said “Young Master.”

Fucha Fuheng met her smile, then quickly averted his gaze, leaving only one side of his now-crimson ear facing her. In a low voice he said, “Don’t smile at a man like that. It’s very improper.”

Wei Yingluo was taken aback.

She had originally thought he would be susceptible to such tactics.

Yet she hadn’t expected that this man’s temperament ran contrary to his appearance. He looked like a seasoned flower among blossoms, a dissolute young noble—yet upon closer interaction, she discovered he seemed remarkably inexperienced in these matters.

With a cold laugh in her heart, Wei Yingluo said to herself: “Who knows if it’s all an act—just like the me standing in front of him.”

“There are matters at the Imperial Guard that require my attention. I’ll take my leave. Thank you for helping me recover the jade pendant.” Fucha Fuheng turned and departed. It would be more accurate to say he fled in panic than that he had urgent business.

Wei Yingluo gazed at his retreating figure, her expression shifting unpredictably, until a cold female voice rang out from behind her: “Yingluo, you have some nerve!”

Turning around, she saw Ming Yu standing not far away, her face full of anger. “In broad daylight, you dare to seduce Fucha Guard!”

Wei Yingluo had no idea how long the other woman had been standing there or how much she had seen. She gave a probing smile. “Not only in broad daylight, but right in front of everyone’s eyes. With you watching, I didn’t even dare say more than a single extra sentence to Fucha Guard—where would I get the courage to seduce him?”

“You still dare talk back!” Ming Yu raised her hand. “I heard with my own ears—you called him ‘Young Master.’ What is your status, and what is his? How dare you use such indecent words to tease him?”

So that was all she had seen and heard…

Wei Yingluo’s heart immediately settled. Since the other woman held no real leverage over her, she had no intention of meekly accepting a slap for nothing. She swiftly caught Ming Yu’s wrist and smiled. “Sister Ming Yu, if I truly did something wrong, you may report it to Her Majesty the Empress. But if it’s for no reason at all, forgive me—I cannot accept such a lesson!”

Ming Yu clearly did not want to make a big scene out of it.

Or rather, she was even less willing to let Wei Yingluo get anywhere near the Empress.

“Fine, very fine. A mere little palace maid dares to talk back at every turn. Do you really think Changchun Palace is your own home and that you’re the master here?” Ming Yu flung her hand away and sneered as she ordered, “It seems you don’t have enough work to keep you busy, so you have time to let your mind wander and forget your place—go! Clean the entire main hall from top to bottom! I will come to inspect it later. If there is even the tiniest speck of dirt, I’ll have your hide!”

If earlier she had still been somewhat discreet, from this day onward Ming Yu began openly targeting Wei Yingluo without any pretense.

The most bitter tasks were assigned to her; the most exhausting labor was given to her. And after she finished, Ming Yu would nitpick—finding even a single drop of dust in a window crack meant Wei Yingluo had to wipe down the entire Changchun Palace all over again.

Even the other senior palace maid, Erqing, could no longer stand to watch. She found an opportunity to speak to Ming Yu: “You shouldn’t go too far. If she can’t endure it and complains to Her Majesty the Empress, it won’t look good for you either.”

“Do you think I’ll give her that chance?” Ming Yu laughed.

If before she had merely kept Wei Yingluo away, preventing her from meeting or speaking with the Empress, things were different now. Whenever she found an opportunity, Ming Yu would go before the Empress and badmouth Wei Yingluo.

“Master, the water for washing your face is ready.”

In the room, a bright mirror lay flat as a still lake. In its reflection, the Empress frowned slightly. “Ming Yu, why is it you bringing the water? Where is Yingluo?”

Ming Yu set the copper basin filled with hot water on the table. The water rippled faintly as she sighed. “Who knows where she’s run off to slack? If I hadn’t come ahead of time to check, Master wouldn’t even have had water to wash with!”

The Empress’s brows furrowed even tighter. “Is she really that lazy?”

“Exactly. She doesn’t know how to do anything properly—only her mouth is sharp.” Ming Yu dipped the handkerchief into the basin to wet it, her lips never stopping. “Last time I only said a couple of words to her, and she dared to give me attitude! Master, how can someone like that be allowed to remain in Changchun Palace!”

Words can be fearsome.

Once or twice, the Empress could treat them as mere passing remarks. But after many repetitions, preconceptions inevitably took root in her heart.

“Erqing, what do you think?” Partial listening leads to darkness. The Empress was not so credulous as to believe everything she was told, so she looked into the mirror and asked, “Is Yingluo really so deplorable?”

The fingers combing her hair paused for a moment.

In the part of the room the mirror could not reach, Ming Yu kept shooting urgent glances toward Erqing.

Erqing glanced at her. She didn’t want to offend her, but she also didn’t want to kick someone when they were down. After weighing her words carefully, she said, “Perhaps she just isn’t quite used to life in Changchun Palace yet. There’s still some friction when getting along with the older maids.”

“If that’s really the case, then tomorrow morning; have her return to the embroidery workshop.” The Empress spoke with a tone of disappointment mixed with frustration, like iron that refused to become steel. “Wait—did I just hear thunder outside?”

A startling clap of thunder ripped across the sky, flashing the entire world white for an instant.

The Empress sprang up from her chair, not even bothering to fix her hair, and rushed straight toward the door. “My flowers! My jasmine!”

“Master! Master, slow down!” Erqing and Ming Yu hurriedly chased after her.

The rain came suddenly and grew heavier by the moment. As the Empress and her attendants hurried along the path, fallen leaves littered the ground in countless numbers, forming a long green river under their feet.

“Quick, bring the oiled cloth! Cover the flowers!” The Empress was frantic with worry. But when she rushed into the flower garden, she suddenly froze.

Under the pouring rain, Yingluo—wearing a straw rain cape—was struggling to pull the oiled cloth over the plants. She had already managed to cover most of the jasmine flowers.

“…Your Majesty.” Hearing voices, she turned her face. Rain had washed her fair, delicate cheeks clean and pale; she looked like a jasmine blooming softly in the garden. Smiling, she said, “Why have you come?”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 33: Snowy Vengeance

   The prison cell of the Department of Careful Punishments.

   Two filthy hands clutched the wooden bars. In a pitiful voice, the prisoner begged the guard outside: “Big brother guard, could you… could you possibly give me a basin of water? Just so I can wipe myself down. I haven’t… I haven’t cleaned my body in seven days already.”

Not bathing for several days was bad enough, but the most terrifying thing was that this place was infested with lice. The itching was unbearable. When she slapped at them, her palm came away sticky and disgusting—black and red mixed together: crushed lice corpses and her own blood.

Linglong felt she might go mad before any execution sentence was even carried out.

“Water… give me some water…” Linglong lowered her head, her voice trembling with a hint of tears.

A faint rustling sound approached from far to near.

Finally, a pair of shoes stopped right outside the bars—snow-white uppers without a speck of dust, cleaner even than her own hands. Linglong slowly raised her eyes along those shoes:

“…Wei Yingluo!”

Wei Yingluo stood beyond the bars, looking down at her with an ambiguous half-smile that wasn’t quite a smile.

“You actually dare to come see me, you lowly woman!” Linglong thrust both hands through the gaps between the bars like a vengeful ghost collecting a debt, desperately trying to grab at Wei Yingluo outside.

Wei Yingluo lightly stepped back, evading her blackened fingertips.

“To get permission to come in and see you, I had to spend a full two taels of silver.” Wei Yingluo slowly crouched down. With an expression that made Linglong’s skin crawl, her eyes gleaming, she stared fixedly at her. “Of course I had to look—look properly, look carefully, look in detail…”

A chill ran down Linglong’s back. Her lips trembled as she asked: “I have no enmity with you. Why did you frame me like this?”

“No enmity?” Wei Yingluo actually laughed at her words, her shoulders shaking. “Then where do you place Jixiang? Linglong, everything is your own doing. I was still wondering how best to lure you into the trap, but before I even brought it up, you yourself suggested the competition. Very good—excellent… Linglong, I understand you too well. You’re consumed by jealousy, yet you have no real talent. You were bound to lose this contest, but you would never accept defeat. In the end, you were certain to steal the ordinary robe I had already finished—”

She didn’t need to finish the rest; Linglong could already guess what came next.

Wei Yingluo had secretly sewn a single silver needle into the collar. It was hard to notice under normal circumstances, but once the Emperor put it on and moved, the needle would shift and prick him.

Sooner or later, the Emperor—wounded by the needle—would fly into a rage and send people to investigate.

“…I know you and Jixiang were like sisters, but you can’t just frame an innocent person like me because of her!” Linglong could only cry out in aggrieved tones, trying to win sympathy with her tears. “She was beaten to death by Chief Steward Wu for stealing! What does that have to do with me?”

“Do you take me for a fool?” Wei Yingluo laughed. “Why would Jixiang steal from me? And why, the moment Chief Steward Wu came to investigate, was the item found on her person? And how did you know it was on her? That day… was her birthday. I think you must have used the excuse of celebrating her birthday to give her an embroidered sachet containing the planted evidence as a ‘birthday gift,’ didn’t you?”

Linglong stared at her in horror.

She was right. Every single word, every single step—she had guessed correctly.

It was as if she had personally witnessed the entire sequence of events.

Linglong had always known Wei Yingluo was clever, but she never imagined she could be this clever. She had known Wei Yingluo would take revenge, but she never expected the revenge to come so quickly, so ruthlessly.

“Yingluo…” Linglong crawled forward on the ground, stretching one hand through the bars until it touched Wei Yingluo’s leg. She adopted the posture of a fawning, begging cat.

“Save it. I don’t fall for that.” Wei Yingluo was still smiling, but there wasn’t the slightest trace of amusement in her eyes. “No matter how much you beg me, I will never let you go. Your tears only make me happy. Only when you bleed will Jixiang’s spirit be properly avenged.”

Linglong stared at her carefully for a moment. Her expression gradually changed—from pitiful and fragile to wildly distorted. Suddenly, she burst into manic laughter, laughing so hard she sat down on the ground, looking utterly fearless and smug:

“That’s right, it was me! I stole the things, and I’m the one who caused Jixiang’s death! So what? There’s just one extra needle in the garment—what’s the big deal? At worst they’ll call it a momentary lapse and give me a few dozen strokes of the board.”

“A few dozen strokes, exile to Ningguta, never to return to the capital.” Wei Yingluo said slowly, her voice calm and drawn out.

Linglong froze. “What did you say?”

“Your sentence has already been decided.” Wei Yingluo repeated with a smile. “Eighty strokes of the heavy rod, exile to Ningguta, banished from the capital forever.”

Linglong’s face drained of color bit by bit until not a trace of blood remained; she was as pale as a ghost.

“Eighty strokes—you might just manage to survive them if you grit your teeth. But Ningguta is the land where the Great Qing banishes its criminals. The climate there is extreme: in April the wild winds cut like knives; from May to July the endless cold rain pierces to the bone; in August heavy snow falls without end; by September a thousand miles are sealed in ice, snow blanketing everything—not a place that resembles the human world. You might endure the beating, but you’ll spend the rest of your life doing hard labor in purgatory.” Wei Yingluo slowly stood up, turned her back, and let her long, lingering words trail behind her. “Unable to live, unable to die—this is what you deserve.”

“Come back! Wei Yingluo, come back! You can’t leave! Someone—stop her! She’s the real culprit—I’m the one who’s been wronged!” Linglong desperately tried to squeeze herself through the gaps in the railing. One hand stretched out straight, only to fall limply in the end. Beneath her disheveled long hair came the sound of broken, sobbing cries.

Wild winds like knives, bone-chilling rain, swirling blizzards, a thousand miles of ice—did she really have to endure all of that with her own body?

   Even if she could endure it, what then? Beyond the natural disasters, there were human evils.

   The place was filled with the most vicious and ruthless criminals. A defenseless, unsupported young woman like her—once there, she would become nothing but tender prey in their eyes. Anyone who felt hungry could take a bite.

   “I’m not going to Ningguta.” Linglong’s voice came out like a sleep-talker’s murmur from deep in her throat. “I’d rather die than go to Ningguta…”

In that instant, a scene suddenly flashed before her eyes.

In the scene there was a steaming bowl of long-life noodles, and a tiny Jixiang with innocent, wide eyes.

“Good, I swear to heaven right here.” Linglong pressed three fingers together and pointed to the sky. “If I ever harbor the slightest ill intention toward you, toward Wei Yingluo, may heaven punish me by making me smash my head against a wall and die a miserable death!”

   Ha! Linglong almost laughed until tears came out. So this damned heaven really did have eyes!

After laughing like a madwoman for a while, Linglong suddenly turned and looked at the grayish-white wall beside her. An extremely twisted smile contorted her face:

“Wei Yingluo, don’t think everything will always go your way. I may not get to choose how I live—but can’t I at least choose how I die?”

Linglong smashed herself against the wall and died.

When the news reached the embroidery workshop, Wei Yingluo was working on a garment.

Deep sapphire-blue satin, embroidered all over with bats—a play on the word for “blessings/fortune.” It looked a little old-fashioned on a young person, but on an elder it radiated auspiciousness and dignity.

“Everyone out.”

A chaotic flurry of footsteps sounded. When the last palace maid’s steps faded beyond the door, only Wei Yingluo and Momo Zhang remained in the embroidery workshop.

“…She didn’t have to die.” Momo Zhang’s voice came from above her head. “After His Majesty’s anger subsided, he realized it was merely a momentary mistake—her crime did not warrant death. He clearly issued an edict: fifty strokes of the rod and assignment to the Labor Department. Yet Linglong took her own life beforehand! People say that right up until the end she kept screaming that she would never go to Ningguta.”

“Momo, look.” Wei Yingluo answered somewhat off-topic. While Momo Zhang questioned her about the reason for Linglong’s suicide, she simply spread out the garment in her hands for her to see. With gentle eyes she smiled and said,

“Jixiang’s grandmother is over seventy. She depended entirely on Jixiang’s meager monthly stipend to survive. She kept holding on, waiting—waiting for the day her granddaughter would complete her service and leave the palace. Jixiang often told me that when she went home, she wanted to bring her grandmother a garment she had made herself: sapphire-blue satin, embroidered all over with bats, to symbolize blessings and longevity…”

“Yingluo!”

“Now Jixiang is gone, and that old lady… I don’t know if she’ll be able to keep living once she learns what happened. One life—or maybe two.” Wei Yingluo slowly lifted her head to look at the other woman. “Momo, do you think the true culprit behind all of this can be let off with just a light fifty strokes?”

In her eyes there was only calm acceptance—no regrets.

No regret for anything she had done!

Momo Zhang met her gaze for a long moment before finally letting out a soft sigh. “Yingluo, with your intense loves and hatreds, your readiness to repay even the smallest grievance… you truly are not suited to remain in the palace. After all, you are only a palace maid…”

If she were a mistress of high rank, such a vengeful, uncompromising temperament might not be a flaw at all. A hard-edged attitude could even help her suppress those beneath her.

But Wei Yingluo, like herself, was merely a servant who served others…

“You will soon be going to Changchun Palace,” Momo Zhang voiced the worry that had been weighing on her heart. “Once you’re there, if you keep this same personality, sooner or later you will bring disaster upon yourself.”

“What are you afraid of, Momo?” Wei Yingluo chewed over her words, understood what she feared, and reached out to pull her down to sit beside her. She nestled against her like a little granddaughter leaning on her grandmother, gently resting her head on Momo Zhang’s shoulder. Her voice was soft and full of comfort. “For now, I have no intention of doing anything to Fucha Fuheng. Even if I were to do something later, before that I would first make sure to clarify the truth from him…”

These words did not dispel Momo Zhang’s unease; instead, they deepened the anxiety in her heart. She stared straight at Wei Yingluo for a long while before finally asking in a probing tone: “And if your sister’s matter really was his doing?”

Wei Yingluo smiled.

That smile was so beautiful it seemed, for a fleeting moment, to summon the images of those legendary beauties of ancient times.

Daji, whose rise on the Deer Terrace Platform brought down the Shang dynasty; Baosi, whose single smile at the beacon fires doomed the Zhou; Yang Yuhuan, whose galloping horse in the dust buried the Tang dynasty.

   A beauty like a blade—capable of toppling cities and kingdoms.

   That night, Wei Yingluo completed the very last embroidery piece she would ever make in the embroidery workshop.

A sapphire-blue robe embroidered with a hundred blessings.

After entrusting the garment to Momo Zhang, asking her to have someone deliver it back to her hometown the next morning along with Jixiang’s remaining possessions, Wei Yingluo thought for a moment. Then she fastened the jade pendant her sister had left behind at her waist. Her fingers gently traced the name engraved upon the jade, and she murmured softly:

“Changchun Palace… Fucha Fuheng… I’m coming.”

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 32: The Needle

   “Lord Fucha, you’ve arrived! Quick, this way please, this way—His Majesty has been waiting for you for a long time!”

Fucha Fuheng stepped into the study of Yangxin Hall with a puzzled expression.

“What’s gotten into Li Yu today?” He glanced back at the grand doors and asked curiously. “He’s never this enthusiastic normally…”

Eunuchs were like the bricks and tiles of the Forbidden City—they all belonged to the Emperor.

Especially a high-ranking eunuch like Li Yu, who knew full well that all his favor and status came from the Emperor alone. He only needed to please His Majesty; he had no need—and was especially wary—of currying favor with outside ministers.

For him to suddenly act so out of character and be this warm toward him made Fucha Fuheng feel thoroughly uneasy.

“You’re here, so he doesn’t have to be beaten with the board.” Hongli remained bent over his memorials, not even raising his head. “I told him to find someone, and after several months he still hadn’t found them. Truly a useless servant.”

Fucha Fuheng grew even more curious.

“Your Majesty, who exactly are you looking for?” Fucha Fuheng asked. It was rare enough that this Emperor would show interest in anything outside of state memorials—let alone a person. A man or a woman? Someone inside the palace or outside?

“Never mind, let’s not talk about her.” Hongli suddenly tossed the memorial in his hand over. “Take a look at this.”

Fucha Fuheng caught it, lowered his eyes, and immediately frowned. “This is… Zhong Yongtan’s impeachment memorial accusing the Commander of the Infantry, E Shan, of accepting ten thousand taels of silver in bribes…”

“Not just E Shan.” Hongli crossed his hands in front of his lips. “He also lodged a complaint against Zhang Tingyu! Haven’t you noticed anything?”

“Zhong Yongtan is a disciple of Lord Ertai.” Fucha Fuheng was extremely sharp; he instantly grasped the deeper meaning in the memorial and smiled. “So this impeachment memorial is actually Ertai declaring war on Zhang Tingyu. And they still want to borrow Your Majesty’s knife to do it!”

Hongli gave a series of cold laughs.

“These two men were important ministers of the previous emperor, which is why We have tolerated them time and again. But what have they done?” Hongli said in a deep, heavy voice. “Last year Liu Tongxun impeached Zhang Tingyu, claiming that the Zhang and Yao families of Tongcheng occupy half the roster of the gentry. We thought he was exaggerating at the time, but now it seems his words were extremely apt! As for Ertai, his second son Eshi remarried almost immediately after his first wife’s death—taking the daughter of Grand Secretary Gao Bin as his new wife, thereby becoming in-laws with Noble Consort Gao. Tell Us—what exactly is he plotting!”

His voice grew louder and louder, like sudden thunder rolling across a thousand miles—clear proof that his true anger had been roused.

When an emperor grows furious, blood flows for a thousand li.

“Emperor, you are anxious, this servant understands,” Fucha Fuheng hurriedly soothed him. “But right now the Han officials mostly attach themselves to Zhang Tingyu, while the Manchu officials lean toward Ertai. Not only the high-ranking court ministers—even the provincial governors and viceroys are choosing sides! To move against Ertai and Zhang Tingyu, we must wait patiently for the right moment.”

“We have waited long enough!” Hongli suddenly stood up. The motion was so forceful that he accidentally knocked over the teacup on the table. A bowl of Biluochun tea splashed across his robes. He seemed completely unaware of it and only spoke coldly to Fucha Fuheng: “To catch bandits, first catch the king. We will summon Prince Yi, the Prince of Yi, Grand Secretaries Ertai and Zhang Tingyu, Xu Ben, and Minister Neqin to appear together for a public trial. First we take Eshan’s head! Fuheng, you will arrange this matter!”

One was the sovereign, the other his subject.

Though he had intended to remonstrate, since the Emperor had already made his decision, Fucha Fuheng—as a minister—could only clasp his hands and reply: “Yes, Your Majesty!”

After venting his pent-up frustration, Hongli’s chest heaved for a few moments. Once the blazing heat in his heart subsided, he gradually felt a chill. He looked down at his ordinary robe now soaked with tea and frowned. Raising his voice, he called: “Li Yu!”

“This slave is here.” Li Yu pushed the door open and entered. Seeing the large wet patch on the Emperor’s clothes, he was greatly startled. He immediately beckoned outward; several young eunuchs came running in, then ran out again. Moments later they returned carrying a tray on which lay a bright yellow ordinary robe.

Li Yu personally lifted the garment and helped Hongli change into it.

Hongli spread his arms, accepting the service as a matter of course—until suddenly his brows furrowed. He raised one hand to cover his neck.

When that hand slowly came away again, a single drop of blood glistened in his palm.

Li Yu’s face visibly drained of color. His legs buckled and he nearly collapsed to his knees: “Your… Your Majesty…”

Fucha Fuheng was also startled. He stepped forward in three strides to stand protectively in front of Hongli, his eyes sweeping the room with sharp vigilance—as though searching every chair, every table leg, every crack in the wall, every possible hiding place for the audacious assassin who had dared to strike at the Emperor.

“There is no assassin,” Hongli’s voice came from behind him. “It is this…”

Fucha Fuheng turned around. Hongli had already pulled off the newly donned robe. Between his fingers—fingers that always carried the faint fragrance of ink and brush—he held a slender silver needle. He stared at the needle tip, still glistening with a bead of blood, and his voice gradually turned icy: “The Workshops are truly growing bold.”

The killing intent in his words was unmistakable to anyone who heard it.

   Fucha Fuheng felt a pang of reluctance and tried to persuade him: “This was merely a moment of carelessness on the part of the Workshops, not an intentional attempt on Your Majesty’s life…”

Before he could finish, Li Yu had already crawled to Hongli’s feet and was kowtowing frantically like pounding garlic: “Your Majesty, forgive me! Your Majesty, forgive me! For the slaves of the Workshops to commit such an inconceivable blunder shows how negligent they are in their duties. Worst of all, they have injured the dragon body—this is a crime beyond pardon! I beg Your Majesty to issue an edict allowing this slave to thoroughly investigate the matter. All those involved must be severely punished without mercy!”

Bang!

The doors of the embroidery workshop were suddenly flung open.

A large group of people surged in, led by Wu Shulai. Every face was suffused with murderous intent.

“Who is it?” Wu Shulai swept his gaze around the room. The cold cruelty in his eyes was like that of a butcher selecting lambs for slaughter.

The newcomers meant trouble. Every palace maid in the embroidery workshop stopped what she was doing and stared at Wu Shulai in fearful unease. Whenever his gaze lingered even slightly longer on any one person’s face, that person felt as though an invisible hand had seized her by the throat—her face turning ashen, almost unable to breathe.

“…It’s her.” Momo Zhang helplessly extended one finger.

Everyone followed the direction of that finger…

It was Linglong’s face, pale and tinged with a sickly bluish-white.

“Take her!” Wu Shulai raised his hand with a sharp wave. The two eunuchs behind him immediately lunged forward.

“No—no—let me go!” Realizing that if they seized her she would almost certainly die, Linglong began struggling desperately. Her body twisted like a snake, knocking over countless tables and embroidery frames along the way as she wailed and cried, “What crime have I committed? Why are you arresting me? Chief Steward Wu, you can’t do this—you have to give me a reason!”

“A reason?” Wu Shulai laughed in anger. “We entrusted you with making the Emperor’s everyday robe, and through sheer carelessness you left a silver needle in the collar! Do you know what that means? One small oversight like that could be construed as an attempt at regicide—high treason—and every single one of us would lose our heads!”

“Silver needle? What silver needle? I don’t know anything about it! Wait…” Linglong’s eyes were dazed at first, but suddenly something clicked. She whipped her head around and stared into the crowd behind her.

Among the anxious, uneasy onlookers, only one person remained perfectly composed.

As if she had foreseen this exact scene all along, she stood there with a faint smile, watching events unfold with keen interest.

“It’s you!” Linglong cried out in fear and fury. “It’s you—Wei Yingluo!”

In that instant, she felt like a pitiful insect caught in a meticulously woven spider’s web—the more she struggled, the more tightly she became ensnared.

“Chief Steward Wu, that garment wasn’t made by me—it was made by Wei Yingluo!” By now the situation had spiraled beyond any hope of concealment. Linglong shouted desperately toward Wu Shulai, “She was the careless one—no, she deliberately left that needle in the robe just to frame me!”

Wu Shulai frowned and turned his gaze toward Wei Yingluo.

Compared to the trembling little palace maids around her, she did indeed appear far too calm and unruffled.

“Stop spouting nonsense!” Momo Zhang, standing at his side, suddenly barked. “You personally delivered that everyday robe to me and personally told me it was your work. How can you now claim it was Yingluo’s? Don’t try to drag innocent people down with you just to save your own skin!”

“Momo Zhang, you…” Linglong’s eyes nearly split with rage.

At last she understood—she had fallen into a conspiracy.

   Others might be excused for not knowing, but Momo Zhang?

   To her eyes, embroidery was as distinctive as handwriting—each person’s work carried unmistakable traces.

There was no way she could have failed to recognize that the dragon on the robe had actually been embroidered by Wei Yingluo. Yet she had said nothing, simply accepted the garment, and then presented it as Linglong’s handiwork.

“You’re all in this together!” Linglong let out a hysterical scream at Wei Yingluo, nearly breaking free of the eunuchs’ grip to lunge at her.

How could the eunuchs allow such a scene in front of Chief Steward Wu? They immediately tightened their hold, slamming her face-down onto the ground—one cheek pressed hard against the floor, the other turned toward the crowd. With one bloodshot eye, Linglong glared fixedly at Wei Yingluo.

“Look, she’s at it again,” Wei Yingluo said, looking down at her from above. Her voice was utterly calm, as though she had rehearsed these very words long in advance. “First she tries to drag me down to save herself. Now she’s dragging Momo Zhang into it. By the time she reaches the Emperor’s presence, who knows—she might even accuse you, Chief Steward Wu, of failing to properly inspect the imperial everyday robe and demand you be punished as an accomplice!”

The moment those words left Wei Yingluo’s mouth, Linglong’s vision darkened; she nearly fainted.

Even if she had still had a slim chance of survival before, Wei Yingluo’s statement had just severed it completely.

Wu Shulai now stared at her with open suspicion and disgust. Coldly he said, “Such a vicious, treacherous thing cannot be allowed to remain. Take her away!”

All along the way, Linglong reached out desperately, grasping at anything she could—pillars, chair legs, even people’s legs. Her closest friend among the maids kicked her hand away and shrank back. Everyone else did the same, retreating like the tide pulling away from shore.

“Help! Save me!” Linglong wept bitterly, her voice cracking like a cuckoo crying blood. “I’m innocent!”

Behind her, Wei Yingluo watched her departure with a smile, then slowly tightened her grip on the handkerchief in her hand.

It was a handkerchief with a faint, lingering stain at one corner.

The stain was a mottled red-brown, like blood that had dried in the wind.

That was… Jixiang’s birthday gift.

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   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 31: The Last Embroidery

   No one will cry for someone who means nothing to them.

   At first there were still people discussing Jixiang’s death. A week later, conversations turned to what to eat for dinner that evening, or how handsome some young guard was—yet no one spoke of Jixiang anymore.

Even when someone occasionally mentioned her, it was only with six short words:

“Oh, that silly little daring thief…”

Those six words became the epitaph of an innocent girl, the final memory she left in the hearts of the living.

A fleeting passerby in this hurried life—

To whom could she speak of all her hardships?

“Yingluo!” Momo Zhang hurled a garment straight at her. It struck Wei Yingluo squarely in the face. “What is wrong with this clothing! The stitching, the color matching—everything is wrong! How on earth are you working?!”

Everyone stopped their needlework and stared in astonishment at the scene.

Momo Zhang rarely lost her temper like this—especially not toward Wei Yingluo, her favorite. Just what on earth had she done to the garment?

“I’m sorry, Momo.” Wei Yingluo’s face was already red and swollen from the slap. She hurriedly clutched the clothing to her chest as if terrified someone might see it, then bowed her head dejectedly. “I’ll fix it right away…”

“What kind of satin do you think this is, that you can just rip it apart and start over? Yingluo, you have truly disappointed me!” Momo Zhang berated her mercilessly, then let out a heavy sigh. “We all know you’re due to report to Changchun Palace at the end of the month. This is your last assignment in the embroidery workshop…”

And also the best one.

The embroiderer originally in charge of the Emperor’s everyday robes had fallen ill and couldn’t finish the work in time, so someone was needed to help complete the remaining tasks.

The garment was already more than halfway done; only the dragon pattern on the chest remained.

This job was both light and prestigious. Afterward, whoever did it could proudly tell others, “I once embroidered a dragon robe for the Emperor.” Even years later, after growing old and leaving the palace, that credential alone could secure a good position—whether entering the Jiangnan Weaving Bureau as an embroiderer or teaching embroidery to the daughters of wealthy families. It would raise her value considerably.

“Momo,” Linglong spoke up calmly, “perhaps because of what happened to Jixiang, Yingluo has been rather listless lately and made a mistake in a moment of distraction. Please be magnanimous and don’t hold it against her. Otherwise… why not let me take over this task?”

“You?” Momo Zhang gave her a measuring look up and down. “Are you up to it? Embroidering a dragon is not the same as embroidering a little cat…”

Laughter rippled from all directions. Linglong’s fingers, hidden inside her sleeves, clenched tightly; her sharp nails dug straight into her palm.

“Everyday robes don’t require as much effort as dragon robes or court robes. Besides, my embroidery skills have improved greatly—I’m certainly capable.” Her peripheral vision swept over Wei Yingluo, who stood nearby looking absent-minded. A thought flashed through Linglong’s mind and she suddenly said, “How about this: let me compete with Yingluo?”

“Oh?” Wei Yingluo slowly turned her face toward her. In just seven short days she had visibly lost a whole circle of weight. The baby-fat cheeks she once had were now sharp and gaunt; dark shadows lay beneath her eyes. She looked utterly exhausted. Gazing at Linglong, she gave a faint, ghostly smile. “How do you want to compete?”

In the past, Linglong would never have dared suggest such a thing.

But today was different. Just look at what Wei Yingluo had embroidered!

Perhaps the shock of Jixiang’s death had hit her too hard, causing her to turn a dragon into… a snake. And even calling it a snake was generous. To Linglong’s eyes, it was clearly a twisted earthworm. Even a child just starting embroidery could do better. How could something like that possibly be presented to the Emperor to wear? It was laughable beyond words.

An opportunity this perfect to step on someone and climb up—how could Linglong possibly let it pass? She immediately declared with full confidence:

“The quality of the embroidery will speak for itself. The two of us will each embroider a complete set of everyday robes at the same time. Then Momo can choose: whoever does better gets to have hers presented to the Emperor. Do you dare?”

Wei Yingluo stared at her for a long moment before letting out a soft, mocking laugh that was neither quite a smile nor a sneer.

“Fine. You asked for this.”

Their gazes met in midair like the clash of blades—sparks flying, murderous intent rising.

Linglong withdrew her eyes and lowered her head to look at the embroidery frame in her hands. In her heart she vowed:

“Just wait. I will prove it to you—prove it to all of you—that I’m not doomed to embroider cats forever. I can embroider dragons too!”

For this competition, Linglong poured out every ounce of her energy.

She rose before dawn each day. While others were still sound asleep, she was already dressed and heading to the embroidery workshop. For meals she wolfed down her food in three or four hurried bites while everyone else ate slowly and carefully; sometimes she barely drank any water at all, just to avoid wasting time going to the latrine.

“Linglong is really going all out.”

“But the problem is—Yingluo is working even harder than she is.”

After a long, exhausting day, Linglong dragged her weary body back to the maids’ quarters, only to overhear those words. She paused, then looked around and frowned.

“Yingluo… hasn’t come back yet?”

Inside the quarters, copper basins steamed with hot water. Some maids were scooping water to wash their faces; others soaked their snow-white feet in the basins. A few of the quicker ones had already finished washing and were now lying comfortably on their beds, chatting idly.

“You mean Yingluo? I passed by the embroidery workshop earlier and saw her still working inside,” answered one of the maids who was currently soaking her feet.

“Ah, it’s so late, and she’s still at it.” Another palace maid exclaimed in surprise.

“After all, it’s work for the Yangxin Hall,” the previous palace maid said as she wiped her feet, curling her lip. “The things we usually do are just spring clothes for the servants of the various palaces, or at most the consorts’ garments. When have we ever touched work meant for Yangxin Hall? Only the most experienced embroideresses are allowed to take on those. She’s dead set on beating Linglong!”

The door creaked open with a bang. Both of them turned to look and let out a startled “Ah— Yingluo, you’re back.”

Wei Yingluo stood at the doorway holding a garment, folded with extreme neatness so that no one could see what was embroidered on it. Linglong’s heart stirred. She stepped forward and said, “Yingluo, how’s your embroidery coming along? Bring it over and let everyone have a look.”

As she spoke, she unceremoniously reached out her hand.

Wei Yingluo sidestepped, avoiding her grasp.

Linglong’s movement froze. Her face filled with grievance as she said, “I’m not trying to steal it. I just want to look… Are you really that afraid of me?”

“Afraid of you?” Wei Yingluo suddenly burst into giggles, as though she had heard the funniest joke in the world. She laughed until Linglong’s face flushed red with embarrassment before finally shaking her head and giving her a glance that seemed half pitying, half contemptuous. “You really think too highly of yourself. Everyone in the embroidery workshop knows… you only know how to embroider cats.”

Hehe.

Someone couldn’t help but let out a stifled laugh.

Linglong whipped her head around, only to see a group of palace maids either bowing their heads to wash their feet or spreading bedding. Clearly no one was looking at her, yet she felt as though every pair of eyes was secretly mocking her.

I’m not! Linglong screamed inwardly. I can embroider dragons too! I’m not doomed to only embroider cats forever!

   “If that’s not the case, then why don’t you take out your embroidery and let everyone… let me have a look.” A slender, graceful hand extended toward her. Wei Yingluo smiled at her. “Let’s see whether what you’ve embroidered is a pair of dragon eyes… or a pair of cat eyes.”

“Wei Yingluo!” Linglong could bear it no longer. She spoke word by word: “I’m warning you—stop humiliating me!”

“Am I wrong?” Wei Yingluo’s attitude was even firmer than hers. She sneered, “When painting a dragon, the eyes are the finishing touch. The dragon’s eyes must possess both spirit and form. Can you—embroider that?”

When words don’t agree, even half a sentence is too much. In the end the two parted on bad terms. After the candles were extinguished, they slept with their backs to each other.

But Linglong simply couldn’t fall asleep.

After tossing and turning for a while, she could no longer restrain herself. She untied the blue cloth bundle kept on the inner side of the bed and took out the nearly finished ordinary robe.

Under the moonlight, she shook it open—and for some reason, perhaps because of what Wei Yingluo had said earlier, the more she looked at it, the more wrong it felt.

“How could this be…” Linglong stared down at the dragon embroidered on the chest of the robe. The fingers gripping the fabric tightened more and more. “Why… do you look so much like a cat?”

A golden dragon—yet it had a pair of cat eyes.

A pair of lifelike cat eyes, filled with desperate eagerness to please, hoping others would like it, admire it, acknowledge its talent.

This wasn’t a dragon. It was the cat in her own heart.

Linglong stared motionlessly at those eyes. Suddenly she crumpled the garment with great force, as though trying to crush something she couldn’t bear to look at into fragments.

Her chest rose and fell unevenly for a moment. Then, breathing unsteadily, she called out softly:

“Yingluo.”

The room was perfectly silent, filled only with long, even breathing.

Linglong called a few more times in a low voice. When no one answered, she quietly slipped out of bed and tiptoed over to Wei Yingluo’s bedside.

In the pitch-black night where one couldn’t see one’s own hand, a pair of cat-like eyes stared fixedly at Wei Yingluo lying on the bed.

Then, a hand quietly reached toward the ordinary robe she had tucked under her pillow.

Taking without asking—a thief’s behavior.

This wasn’t Linglong’s first time stealing. The first time was the peacock feather threads; the second was the everyday robe. Once you’ve done it, twice comes easily. Compared to the nervous anxiety of the first theft, now Linglong felt only calm inside—almost as if it were perfectly natural.

It was like taking back something that rightfully belonged to her, reclaiming the life that should have been hers.

Once the everyday robe was in her hands, Linglong retreated to her own bed, then eagerly unfolded it to look. She couldn’t help but let out a mocking “ha.”

“Jixiang, look—she doesn’t care about you that much either.” Linglong laughed, her voice laced with both jealousy and scorn. “Just a few days ago she was so upset over your situation that she made a ton of mistakes. Now that she has a chance to stand out in front of Noble Lady, she’s forgotten you completely in the blink of an eye and thrown herself heart and soul into this.”

If she weren’t completely focused, how could she have embroidered such a majestic and awe-inspiring golden dragon?

Graceful as a startled swan, sinuous as a swimming dragon—especially those two dragon eyes, as if gazing down imperiously from the clouds, surveying all living beings.

Mortals and commoners alike must bow their heads and submit beneath that gaze.

“This is what real dragon eyes look like.” Linglong cradled the garment in her hands and murmured to herself, “These are my dragon eyes…”

She didn’t sleep a wink all night.

The next day, the palace maids in the quarters gradually got up one after another.

“Huh?” One maid suddenly let out a sound of surprise. “Where’s Linglong?”

Linglong’s bed was empty. The person next to her reached over and touched the quilt—it was ice-cold, not a trace of warmth left on the bed.

“Huh?” At the same moment, outside the embroidery workshop, Momo Zhang looked with some surprise at the person sitting on the steps. “Why are you here so early today?”

As if she hadn’t slept at all and had sat through the entire night until dawn, Linglong’s clothes and hair were covered in the morning dew.

Her body was cold, but her heart was burning hot.

“Momo.” Linglong lifted her face, flushed slightly from excitement, and smiled. “My garment is finished.”

She handed over the robe she had been clutching tightly to her chest. It was unmistakably—the everyday robe that had been stolen from beneath Wei Yingluo’s pillow.

STORY OF YANXI PALACE CHAPTERS HOME

  

   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 30: The Little Thief

   “I really don’t know what Her Ladyship sees in you. A mere little embroideress, yet somehow you’ve stepped straight through the gates of Changchun Palace!” Ming Yu looked Wei Yingluo up and down, her gaze far from friendly.

The person sent by Changchun Palace turned out to be… her.

Ming Yu sat in the chair with a plate of pastries beside her—glutinous rice balls, green bean cakes, rose pastries, sesame candies—a colorful four-kind assortment that looked delicious just from appearance.

She was savoring the sweets with great concentration, looking less like someone on official business for the Empress and more like someone taking advantage of the errand to enjoy a leisurely half-day.

She had been sitting for as long as Wei Yingluo had been standing. Remembering the earlier warning from Chief Steward Wu, she couldn’t help but sigh inwardly: “The King of Hell is easy to deal with; the little devils are the difficult ones.”

The steps into Changchun Palace were probably not going to be easy to climb.

“Alright, I’ve delivered the message.” Ming Yu finally seemed to have had her fill. She popped the last piece of pastry into her mouth, clapped her hands, and said, “Finish up your business in the embroidery workshop quickly. Come to Changchun Palace by the end of the month.”

“Yes, I’ll see you off, Sister Ming Yu.” Wei Yingluo accompanied Ming Yu all the way to the entrance of Changchun Palace. The round trip took nearly half an hour, yet just walking and chatting like this made her feel more exhausted than working five or six hours straight in the embroidery workshop.

The most bitter and tiring work in the world is none other than serving others.

Dragging her utterly weary body back to the palace maids’ quarters, Wei Yingluo suddenly frowned.

Something was wrong…

The noisy chatter that had filled the room stopped the instant she stepped through the door.

The palace maids who shared the same quarters—some standing, some sitting, some near, some far—all turned to look at her with the exact same strange gaze. That look made Wei Yingluo extremely uncomfortable: it carried mockery, sarcasm, pity, and sympathy all at once.

Why were they looking at her like that?

Full of confusion, Wei Yingluo walked back to her bed. Two quilts lay side by side, two pillows pressed close together.

“Where’s Jixiang?” Wei Yingluo asked. “She hasn’t come back yet?”

Even eating a bowl of noodles shouldn’t take this long. By her calculations, Jixiang should have finished and returned ages ago.

A young palace maid who had been fairly close with Jixiang answered in a low voice: “She was taken away.”

Wei Yingluo froze. “What did you say?”

“She was taken.” The young maid had to repeat it, hesitated, then added, “…The item was hidden on her person…”

“What item was on her?” A bad premonition rose in Wei Yingluo’s heart.

“…A sachet.” The young maid sighed. “Inside it was the peacock feather threads that had gone missing earlier…”

“That’s impossible!” Wei Yingluo strode right up to her, eyes blazing. “You’re lying!”

“I’m not lying! It was Chief Steward Wu himself who searched her and found it!” The young maid was truly frightened by the terrifying look in Wei Yingluo’s eyes. Panicking, her gaze darted around the room and suddenly landed on one person. She pointed and cried out, “It’s said that it was Linglong who reported it!”

Wei Yingluo slowly turned her head. “Linglong!”

Linglong was lying face-down on her own bed, half her pillow soaked with tears. Her swollen red eyes looked back at Wei Yingluo. It was unclear whether she was explaining to her or to everyone else:

“I grew up together with Jixiang. Her family was poor; they often didn’t know where the next meal was coming from, so she sometimes had sticky fingers… I never imagined that after entering the palace—having food and clothes—she still hadn’t broken that bad habit…”

Before she could finish, a hand seized her by the collar and yanked her up from the bed.

“Nonsense!” Wei Yingluo’s furious face was inches away.

“I’m not talking nonsense! I didn’t want to believe she was that kind of person either… I just… I just mentioned it to Chief Steward Wu.” Linglong sniffled, sounding aggrieved. “Later I found out that Her Majesty the Empress had only given Steward Wu two days to solve it. He must have been anxious to catch the thief and decided to search everyone. Who could have known it would actually turn up…”

“Ha!” Wei Yingluo scoffed with icy disdain. “Do you think I’ll believe that?”

Linglong looked at her in shock.

“The peacock feather threads have been missing for so long. Now the moment Steward Wu comes and asks around, they’re suddenly found.” Wei Yingluo dragged Linglong right up to her face—eye to eye, like two crossed war blades sparking with the intensity of a fight to the death. “Linglong, do you think I would believe it? Do you think Steward Wu would believe it? Steward Wu… he just wants to close the case as quickly as possible, that’s all.”

With a violent shove, she threw Linglong to the ground. Without looking back, Wei Yingluo stormed out of the palace maids’ quarters.

Trees flashed past her on both sides. The path rushed backward beneath her feet.

Suddenly someone dashed out and blocked her path, stopping her frantic run.

“…Momo.” Wei Yingluo finally saw who it was. Panting hard, she said, “I have to find Chief Steward Wu. If I’m too late, it’ll be over…”

If she had been even a moment later, Jixiang’s life would have been beyond saving.

Even if it meant using up the hard-earned favors she had painstakingly accumulated, even if it meant owing Chief Steward Wu an enormous debt of gratitude, she was willing to pay any price.

As long as she could save that child’s life…

“Don’t go.” Momo Zhang’s hands clamped down like iron pincers, holding Wei Yingluo firmly in place.

“Momo, let go of me!” Wei Yingluo struggled with all her strength.

Halfway through her struggle, her entire body suddenly froze.

“Don’t look!” Momo Zhang hurriedly raised one hand to cover her eyes, only for Wei Yingluo to forcefully pull it away.

Ahead lay the path leading to the Palace Discipline Office.

Palace maids and eunuchs who had committed offenses were inevitably sent there to suffer.

The great doors of the Palace Discipline Office stood wide open. A nauseating smell drifted out from within—like old tears mingled with fresh blood.

Two eunuchs emerged from the doorway, one in front and one behind, carrying a stretcher between them.

A white cloth covered the person on the stretcher from head to toe. The cloth rose and fell in the rough outline of a woman’s face. As they passed by Wei Yingluo, the stretcher jolted slightly. A pale, lifeless arm slipped from the side and dangled limply.

A embroidered handkerchief slid from the fingertips and fell to the ground.

Wei Yingluo bent down and picked it up. Her eyes immediately blurred with tears.

On the handkerchief was an adorably chubby yellow dog—the very one Jixiang had raised back in her hometown. People said it was unusually intelligent; it would go out and catch sparrows and field mice, then bring them home to feed the old and the young.

This was the birthday gift she had given Jixiang.

“May you live a hundred years, safe and sound year after year.” Wei Yingluo cradled the handkerchief and murmured, “May you live a hundred years, safe and… sound year after year.”

   By the end her voice had broken into sobs. Suddenly she turned and rushed toward the Palace Discipline Office, only to be dragged back hard by Momo Zhang.

“Let me go!” Wei Yingluo cried in fury. “I’m going to find Chief Steward Wu! I want to ask him why he did this! He knew perfectly well there was something suspicious about the whole affair—why couldn’t he handle it impartially the way he did with my case before?”

“Silly child, everyone has their own difficulties,” Momo Zhang sighed. “If the Empress hadn’t set a strict deadline, of course he would have handled it fairly and taken his time to find the real culprit. But the Empress only gave him two days. He had no choice but to protect himself first, and then protect others.”

Wei Yingluo understood the logic perfectly; it was just that her heart refused to accept it. “But even if he couldn’t find the thief, at worst he’d receive some punishment. Yet Jixiang… she had to lose her life…”

“No one will take a punishment for someone who means nothing to them,” Momo Zhang said. As she spoke, tears began to roll from the corners of her eyes, crisscrossing through the deep fish-tail wrinkles on her face. Her voice grew hoarse and broken. “No one… will shed tears for someone who means nothing to them.”

In that instant, Wei Yingluo’s tears came pouring down.

   STORY OF YANXI PALACE CHAPTERS HOME

  

   Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 29: Good Sisters

   “Have you heard?” A palace maid quietly leaned close to Linglong’s ear. “Her Majesty the Empress took a real liking to Yingluo. That day Chief Steward Wu specially instructed Momo Zhang to transfer Yingluo to Changchun Palace!”

Her finger trembled; the needle pricked out a tiny bead of blood. Linglong unobtrusively wiped it away.

“To be able to serve Her Majesty the Empress—she really is blessed.” The palace maid sighed. “Linglong, it’s truly a pity for you.”

Linglong smiled lightly, as calm as a breeze. “What is there to pity about me?”

“In terms of looks, in terms of embroidery skill—you’re no worse than her at all. Yet Momo Zhang is so blatantly partial! If you had been the one to present the tribute that day, the person heading to Changchun Palace now wouldn’t be Wei Yingluo!” Seeing Linglong’s expression growing darker and darker, the maid hurriedly changed her tone to comfort her. “But it’s good that she’s leaving. Once she’s gone, it’ll finally be your turn to shine!”

Who cares about shining in this rundown embroidery workshop!

On the surface Linglong could still maintain her composure, but the needle in her hand grew increasingly erratic. The scene she had accidentally glimpsed that day kept replaying before her eyes.

“Momo, you’ve been far too kind to me.”

“That foolish senior sister of yours is my most accomplished disciple. For her sake alone, I’ll give you two extra points of care.”

Two points? That was far more than just two!

The best resources, the best opportunities—all of them were tightly reserved for Wei Yingluo alone! Everyone else didn’t even have the slightest chance to stand out!

“If only Momo Zhang would take care of me like that, then I too could win the Empress’s favor. Those two bolts of silk and that hairpin would have my name on them too! Aiya!”

Linglong sucked her freshly pricked finger into her mouth again. She stared at the embroidery frame in front of her, at the messy, chaotic pattern on it, and a surge of anger rose in her heart. She grabbed the scissors beside her—snip!

“Linglong!”

Her hand jerked. The scissors tore a long gash across the embroidery frame. It had been her best skill—the brocade cat design. The tear ran straight from left to right, slicing right across the cat’s neck, neatly severing its head. The whole picture instantly turned bloody and ominous. The cat’s two eyes now seemed to glare at her accusingly.

Linglong hurriedly flipped the frame face-down on the table and stood up to greet the newcomer. “Yes, Momo? I’m here. What do you need me for?”

“It’s not me who’s looking for you,” Momo Zhang said. “It’s Chief Steward Wu.”

Two beams of light flashed in Linglong’s eyes. Her heart leaped—could her luck finally be turning? Was it finally her turn to be noticed by a Noble Lady?

“…The Empress has issued an order. She has instructed Chief Steward Wu to find the thief who stole the peacock feather threads.” But Momo Zhang’s next words shattered her hopes. “Starting with you. One by one, you will all go and answer his questions. Whatever Chief Steward Wu asks, you answer truthfully. Understood?”

With every additional word Momo Zhang spoke, Linglong’s face grew one shade paler.

Even her legs felt weak and soft.

It was as though a headless cat had wrapped itself around her leg, staring up at her with those ill-omened feline eyes.

Not everyone was summoned for questioning—at least Wei Yingluo was spared.

In fact, when Chief Steward Wu arrived, the very first person he met with was her.

“With these eyes of mine, I have never misjudged a person,” he said kindly. “From the very first time I saw you, I knew you were no ordinary carp in the pond. Sooner or later, you were destined to leap out of this little embroidery workshop.”

“All thanks to your grace, sir,” Wei Yingluo replied, still maintaining the same respectful demeanor she had shown him from the beginning. She bowed and lowered her head. “If it hadn’t been for you upholding justice that day, where would I be now? I would likely have been expelled long ago by Aunt Fang and Zhu Chugong over those baseless accusations. This kindness I will never forget. In the future, if there is any place where I can be of use to you, Chief Steward Wu, please feel free to command me.”

“Haha, no need to be so polite! We help each other, that’s all!” Chief Steward Wu laughed heartily.

In the palace, no one offered kindness without reason. Favors given today were investments expecting repayment tomorrow.

Chief Steward Wu had very high hopes for Wei Yingluo and had no intention of cashing in that valuable favor just yet. He spoke to her gently for a while, even obliquely hinting at some of the Empress’s preferences. Finally, he patted her shoulder and said:

“When you reach the Empress’s side, you must serve her well. Don’t think that because she appears gentle and kind-hearted, you can slack off. The Empress may be merciful, but the people around her are not necessarily so.”

Wei Yingluo’s heart stirred. She nodded and said, “Yingluo understands. Thank you for the reminder, Chief Steward Wu.”

The higher a person’s position and power, the more cautious their words become. Every sentence they utter has passed through nine twists and turns in their mind, been weighed and measured countless times before finally being spoken.

Every single word carries deep meaning.

“Never mind. I’ll think about it later.” Wei Yingluo glanced at the sky and smiled. “There are more important things to do today.”

In the palace maids’ dining hall, a bowl of long-life noodles was gently placed in front of Jixiang.

Snow-white noodles curled in the broth, topped with rich, savory red minced meat and bright green vegetables.

“Know that on ordinary days it stirs the gods’ greed; this dish surpasses even fresh flat peaches. Thread after thread of fate can be tied, year after year our thoughts remain entwined. Dragon whiskers softly sway three thousand feet, crane lifespan eternally prosperous for eight hundred years. On this auspicious birthday, long-life noodles are worthy of celebration; family harmony and the moon share perfect reunion. One bowl of longevity noodles—please accept it with my humble regards.”

Wei Yingluo winked at Jixiang across the table.

“Wishing you a hundred years of life, and peace every single year.”

“Yingluo-jie…” This was a huge surprise. It took Jixiang quite a while to come back to her senses; she was so moved that her speech even stuttered a little.

“You—you—how did you know that t-today is my birthday?”

“When we first entered the palace, didn’t the managing eunuch specially read out everyone’s names and details while checking the roster?” Wei Yingluo smiled.

“He only said it once and you remembered?” Jixiang looked at her with admiration. “Your memory is really good.”

“Yes, I have a very good memory.” Wei Yingluo laughed.

How could her memory be that good? In truth, she had noticed Jixiang looking depressed lately, so she deliberately went to ask the managing eunuch about it.

Even this small bowl of noodles had not come easily.

The masters could eat whatever they wanted whenever they wanted, but if palace maids wanted something extra, they had to slip silver to the imperial kitchen cooks. Wei Yingluo had entered the palace practically empty-handed—where would she get any money? So she had traded her labor: several sleepless nights spent embroidering a few pieces for the cooks in exchange for this one bowl of noodles.

“Eat quickly, it’ll get cold if you wait any longer.” Wei Yingluo handed the chopsticks to her. “You have to eat the whole strand in one go, okay? That way you’ll live a hundred years.”

“Mm!” Jixiang took the chopsticks, picked up the noodles, put them in her mouth and slurped. Suddenly tears began to fall.

“What’s wrong?” Wei Yingluo was startled. “Does it not taste good?”

She dipped another chopstick into the broth, tasted it… the flavor was actually very nice, well worth the embroidery she had given up. So why was the other girl crying over it?

“Yingluo-jie, you’re really so good to me.” Jixiang choked out through sobs. “In the whole palace, only you truly care about me. Wuwu… once you go to Changchun Palace, no one will care about me anymore.”

“I’m not leaving forever.” Wei Yingluo’s heart softened. She hugged her and said, “Even if I don’t come back, can’t you just come visit me?”

“I… can I really come see you?” Jixiang looked at her with both hope and worry. “Wouldn’t that make things difficult for you? I may be slow, but even I know that not just anyone can enter Changchun Palace…”

“What difficulty could there be?” Wei Yingluo pressed a handkerchief she had already prepared into the other girl’s hand. “Take this. It’s your birthday present. In the future, if you miss me, come to Changchun Palace. If you can’t get in, just ask someone to pass this handkerchief inside. The moment I see it, I’ll know you’re thinking of me and I’ll immediately ask for leave to come see you. All right?”

Jixiang felt her chest grow warm; fresh tears fell again. The slightly salty drops landed in the soup, yet when she tasted them in her mouth, all she could taste was sweetness like honey.

“Wei Yingluo! Wei Yingluo!” A palace maid’s voice called from outside the door. “Are you there?”

“Yes, what is it?” Wei Yingluo turned and answered.

“Someone from Changchun Palace is here. Come with me quickly.”

“Yingluo-jie, go quickly.” As soon as Jixiang heard, she became even more anxious than Wei Yingluo. She pushed her arm gently. “I’ll stay here and finish the noodles. There’s plenty in this bowl—it’ll last me a long time.”

“Mm, I’ll be right back.” Wei Yingluo gave her an apologetic glance, then followed the maid out.

After she left, Jixiang didn’t rush to eat the noodles. Instead she gazed fondly at the handkerchief in her hand.

Embroidered on it was a yellow dog—the very one she had raised back in her hometown. Life had been hard for her in the palace, but it had also been hard back home. Her parents favored her younger brother; he ate the rice while she could only drink the soup—and sometimes there wasn’t even soup left. She would cry from hunger until her grandmother, unable to bear it, took her under her wing and squeezed out whatever little food she could from between her teeth to feed her.

It wasn’t her parents who supported her grandmother in her old age—it was the old yellow dog at home. Though plain-looking, he was an excellent hunter and often brought back sparrows and field mice from outside. Otherwise she and her grandmother would have starved to death long ago.

She rarely told anyone these rambling, trivial memories—because no one liked to listen.

Only Wei Yingluo not only listened, but kept them in her heart.

“Thank you.” Jixiang pressed the handkerchief to her burning heart, silently repeating over and over, “Thank you, Sister Yingluo. To be able to enter the palace, to be able to meet you… it’s truly wonderful… Jixiang only needs to live to fifty. All the remaining years of my life, I give them to you. I wish you a long life of a hundred years, safe and peaceful year after year.”

“Sigh.”

A soft sigh interrupted Jixiang’s thoughts. She turned her head and immediately pulled a long face.

At some point, Linglong had sat down beside her. No one knew what she had just been through, but her face was pale as paper, and a trace of panic and unease lingered between her brows.

Jixiang picked up her bowl of longevity noodles and was about to leave when Linglong reached out and pulled her back.

“Jixiang, how did you become this kind of person?” Linglong said with quiet sorrow. “You weren’t like this when we were little.”

The two were from the same hometown and had even been neighbors. However, Linglong’s family was much better off than Jixiang’s. Sometimes she would toss the sweets she couldn’t finish to her. Because she craved those little treats, little Jixiang would obey anything she said—climb a tree when told to climb, bark like a dog when told to bark.

“We used to be so close, but ever since we entered the palace, you’ve kept your distance from me.” Linglong sighed again. “Is it because of Wei Yingluo?”

“Hmph, so you do know!” Jixiang replied bluntly and quickly. “She never did anything to you, yet you’re always gossiping about her behind her back!”

Linglong’s expression turned cold. To hide the chill on her face, she lifted a sleeve as if wiping away tears. “You blame me for targeting her, but have you ever thought about how hard I’ve tried? My embroidery isn’t that much worse than hers, yet the mama always favors her. How could I not feel resentful?”

“It’s actually a big difference. You’re only really good at embroidering cats—everything else is just average. But Sister Yingluo can embroider any pattern and knows every stitch.” Jixiang looked at her strangely, speaking as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “If you want the mama to value you, just work harder. Stop focusing only on cats and try more varieties… Wait, don’t tell me the reason you keep embroidering cats is because you can’t compare to Sister Yingluo in anything else?”

Linglong’s tear-wiping motion froze. A cold, sinister chill seemed to radiate from her body.

“…Fine.” After a long silence, she slowly lowered her sleeve and said in a pitiful, fragile voice, “I’ll embroider more varieties from now on.”

Jixiang wasn’t one to hold grudges. Seeing her childhood friend looking so pathetic, her heart softened and her tongue loosened as well. “Forget it, forget it. As long as you stop targeting Sister Yingluo in the future, we can still be good sisters.”

“Good. Then I swear to heaven right here.” Linglong pressed three fingers together and pointed to the sky. “If I ever harbor the slightest ill intent toward you or toward Wei Yingluo, may heaven punish me by making me smash into a wall and die a horrible death!”

Jixiang hurriedly pressed her pointing hand down and whispered reproachfully, “Don’t say that—it’s taboo!”

“So… we’re friends again?” Linglong looked at her expectantly.

Having already gone this far, what else could Jixiang do? After grumbling for a long while, she finally nodded reluctantly.

“Good Jixiang!” Linglong reached out and hugged her, resting her chin on her shoulder. Her eyes glinted with ferocity, yet her voice was sweetly soft as she smiled and said, “By the way, today is your birthday. I prepared a gift for you…”

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