The man stood upright in the courtyard, the moonlight rendering the gold threads on his wedding robe into a pale, ghostly silver.
"It must be embroidered by your own hand."
Su Wanzhao's tightly clenched fingertips trembled incessantly. "But this concubine..."
A crisp chime suddenly rang out from the copper bell hanging at the eaves. Before the fading notes had died away, Zhao Yan had already flickered his sleeves and departed, leaving only a scatter of crushed crabapple petals clinging to Su Wanzhao's trailing, graceful skirt.
"Weimo..." She buried her face in her palms and sobbed. "Yet I cannot even sketch the veins of the twin lotus flowers..."
Weimo gently supported her shoulder, her two fingers unconsciously twisting together.
In her past life, it had been just such a bleak, sleepless night when she cried her eyes red to complete the Longevity Scroll for Su Wanzhao. The Empress Dowager had stroked the relief-like satin embroidery, praising her for her nimble hands and wise heart; from that day on, that unique needlework technique came to be regarded as Su Wanzhao's original creation.
It made her famous for her virtue.
Later on, the python-patterned sachet that Zhao Yan kept close to his body, and the mink-fur knee-warmers he wore during the winter hunt—every single stitch had sprung from her bleeding fingertips.
"Princess Consort, do not weep," she softly comforted. "This maid is here."
In the shadows of the corridor, Zhao Yan traced the raised carvings of the dragon-patterned jade pendant. Two slender figures were cast by the oil lamp onto the window paper; the standing one had her waist slightly bent, as if offering careful guidance.
Given Wanzhao's skill at needlework, when had she ever needed anyone else's guidance?
"Your Highness," Wei Xiao materialized by the steps like a ghost. "Those two body-inspection nannies couldn't take it anymore. They've confessed."
Zhao Yan's fingers, pressing against the jade pendant, paused. "Speak."
"On the silver probe..." Wei Xiao's Adam's apple bobbed. "It was soaked in safflower, capable of rendering a woman barren."
"She certainly spared no expense," Zhao Yan suddenly chuckled lightly, sending a shudder down the back of Wei Xiao's neck.
In his past life, he had lived his entire life without a legitimate son. So this was the root of the problem.
"Flay them clean," the dark-robed figure said as he walked away, a crisp, clean scent of peppermint drifting into Wei Xiao's nostrils. "This Prince wants a string made of their throat bones to present to Her Majesty the Empress."
Wei Xiao's pupils constricted violently. He actually heard a hint of cruel pleasure in the Prince's tone.
The third watchman's clapper sounded three times, and Su Wanzhao finally could not hold on any longer, collapsing heavily over the table into a deep sleep.
Weimo trimmed the lamp wick and picked up the embroidery pouch, which was only a little over halfway done, to examine it closely.
The stitches were as scattered and formless as a chaotic spiderweb.
She was in no hurry to finish it. Instead, she first walked over to the bed and tossed the untainted wedding night cloth—devoid of even a single fold—into a bronze basin to burn to ashes.
This thing, which would have cost Nanny Qian her life, should have been scattered to the winds long ago.
Tomorrow's Su Wanzhao would be like a clay bodhisattva crossing a river; naturally, she would have no leisure to go looking for this damning object.
She picked up the embroidery needle and continued to move along Su Wanzhao's stitch paths. At first glance, the stitches looked identical, but she deliberately picked up an extra half-strand of silk.
The Empress was exceptionally skilled at embroidery. If such crude and petty intentions could escape the Empress's discerning eyes, wouldn't it waste the trouble she had taken to deliberately mention the embroidery pouch in front of Zhao Yan, and the perilous trap she had meticulously laid for Su Wanzhao?
It was the fifth watch, and the sky was growing hazy.
Ever since she began following Su Wanzhao, going without sleep all night had become routine.
"Wake up, Princess Consort," she called out softly. "It is time to dress and make up."
"Thanks to you for finishing it for me," Su Wanzhao said, adjusting the Nine-Phoenix Hairpin in front of the bronze mirror, traces of tear-reddened grief still lingering at the corners of her eyes. "Does this sandalwood makeup suit me today?"
Weimo handed over a freshly opened eyebrow dye. "The Princess Consort is naturally beautiful; even the look of a sickly Xi Shi would be touching."
The mirror reflected her slightly red eye rims and somewhat weary expression.
Zhao Yan had already gone to court. Waiting in front of the manor gates was his golden-roofed carriage, the gilded roof shimmering with a lustrous brilliance in the morning light, dazzling to the eyes.
The driver had unexpectedly been changed from Uncle Zhao to Wei Xiao.
Weimo raised an eyebrow. The Su Wanzhao of her past life had never enjoyed such preferential treatment.
The specifications of this carriage directly rivaled the Emperor's imperial chariot. The twin horses pulling it were sweat-blood steeds from the Southern Frontier, their backs draped in pure gold armor, their iron hooves inlaid with the exclusive python-patterned gold of Jinlan Manor. Even the reins held in the driver's hands were made of yak hide sent as annual tribute from the Northern Di, adorned with rare Eastern Sea court pearls, displaying extreme extravagance.
This was a personal gift bestowed by the Emperor in a moment of great delight when Zhao Yan was twelve years old and had cleared the waterways.
Staring back then at the tracks left by the carriage wheels as they rolled past the palace gates, the Empress had snapped three of her artificial peacock-feather nail guards barehanded, a testament to its supreme luxury.
Weimo bowed and ducked into the carriage compartment. Her nostrils were immediately filled with Zhao Yan's habitual mountain peppermint scent. Fine silks enveloped the soft pillows, brocade curtains swept across the gilded incense burner, and the string of pearls at the end of the curtains swayed and struck the nanmu table, emitting a crisp, tinkling sound.
The dish of plum-blossom pastries on the table was arranged very cleverly, dusted with a thick layer of powdered sugar.
"His Highness surely holds me in his heart." Su Wanzhao's fingertips stuck with powdered sugar, the corners of her lips curving up in a tremble.
A subtle stir passed through Weimo's heart. "The Princess Consort's majestic bearing is naturally a match for this exclusive favor."
...
The Empress's Renming Palace was located among the western halls. The two women got out of the carriage before the west corner gate and saw Ruoqiu standing respectfully beneath the dripping eaves.
This person was a favored chief palace maid in front of the Empress.
Su Wanzhao bowed and stepped forward. "Thank you for troubling you to guide us, Auntie."
"You flatter this maid." When Ruoqiu returned the courtesy, her shoulders and neck were held rigidly straight. "Her Majesty is listening to the reports of the six palaces at the third quarter of the morning hour. Will the Princess Consort please make haste."
Su Wanzhao's eyes shifted, and Weimo had already stepped forward holding a silver ingot wrapped in red silk. Seeing this, Ruoqiu took half a step back. "The rules of Renming Palace..."
Weimo pushed the silver ingot into her palm. "Consider it extra money for Auntie to buy some powder."
"Indeed," Su Wanzhao caught her wrist and shoved it in forcefully. "Could it be that Auntie thinks it's too little?"
Ruoqiu tucked the red silk into her sleeve. "Does the Princess Consort know that last month, the wife of the Junior Vice Minister of Works acted in this very manner, and Her Majesty punished her by making her copy Buddhist scriptures for half a month?"
She smoothed out her wrinkled cuffs. "The customs of Xiangnan are better restrained while in the palace."
Passing palace maids held their breaths and cast sidelong glances. Su Wanzhao's face was flushed red, yet she still forced herself to curtsy. "I will bear Auntie's teachings in mind."
The General Pingnan's Estate had guarded Xiangnan for generations. Had it not been for the Empress granting the marriage, Su Wanzhao—a mere concubine-born daughter whose own mother had died early—would not have known where she was drifting nowadays.
The three of them proceeded together toward Renming Palace. Weimo counted the square bluestone bricks on the palace path. Last month, a sweeping maid had been beaten to death with staves right here, and it was said her entrails had spilled all over the ground.
Upon the phoenix throne of Renming Palace, the Empress wore a crown adorned with nine dragons biting pearls, her court robes embroidered with the twelve imperial symbols glowing brilliantly through the morning light.
The imperial concubines standing below the hall were all formally dressed and solemn. The jade pendants, agates, and pearl chains within view made Su Wanzhao halt abruptly in her tracks.
Among the Emperor's five sons, it was precisely Zhao Yan, the third son, who married first. The Empress personally acted as matchkeeper to bestow the marriage, and he enjoyed the Emperor's high regard, so this audience was handled according to the regulations for noble matrons.
Even Noble Consort Xian and Noble Consort De had changed into luxurious and grand gathered-gold *di* robes. Su Wanzhao had not dressed up lavishly; she wore an ordinary pale-moon ruqun. Standing now in this jewel-and-jade-illuminated main hall, she looked rather like a gray sparrow that had mistakenly wandered into a golden cage.
The Empress beckoned to her. "Zhaozhao, come quickly."
Su Wanzhao lifted her skirt, stumbled two steps forward, and kowtowed heavily before the phoenix throne. "Wanzhao offers her deepest thanks to Her Majesty the Empress for her immense grace."
"As expected of a girl raised by the General Pingnan's Estate; even her kowtow is three parts louder than anyone else's," Noble Consort Xian on the right-hand seat said with a light chuckle as she stroked her solid gold nail guards. "Yet with such spirit, how is it she cannot tolerate the concubine-born children of other consorts?"