Xiao Wuji climbed the hundreds of steps, each stride feeling as though he were treading upon blades.
The Imperial Study was close at hand. He remained disheveled, his hair in wild disarray, his face splattered with his own father’s blood, rendering the world before him a crimson blur.
"Your Highness, please."
In the dead of night, the lamps of the Imperial Study remained lit. Prince Han was barred from entry, forced to listen to the sounds of furious shouting, wailing, and the chaotic shattering of porcelain from within.
His breathing grew ragged. His body swayed, but he suddenly realized something. He pressed his fingers against his own wrist to check his pulse. After a long moment, his expression turned grim.
When he pulled his hand away, Prince Han felt a sense of desolation and sorrow, but above all, a deep, gnawing bitterness and rage.
Until a faint, scarlet glow began to brighten the horizon, a gaunt figure stumbled out of the Imperial Study, his hair matted with blood. Prince Han strode up to him in a few quick steps. He saw his nephew’s lips pale, and suddenly, the boy began to laugh.
"Hahahaha! Hahahahahaha!"
The next moment, Xiao Wuji coughed up another mouthful of blood. Prince Han hurried to catch him, only to hear Xiao Wuji whisper, "Take me away. Get me out of here."
Prince Han looked back to see the Chief Eunuch, Cai Fu, nodding at him from the doorway. Only then did he carry Xiao Wuji away.
By the time they reached the first palace gate, Xiao Wuji’s strength gave out, and he collapsed to the ground. Prince Han looked down at him, wanting to speak, but Xiao Wuji interrupted. "Ninth Imperial Uncle... His Majesty said my father... shall not enter the Imperial Mausoleum..."
Xiao Wuji looked up with a smile, his eyes swimming in tears. "His Majesty said he committed the crime of treason, and that I, by killing him..."
"It was a great service!"
Xiao Wuji laughed wildly. "I... I survived."
Prince Han turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut.
Xiao Wuji sprawled on the ground, his long, tangled hair splayed out, staining the white jade floor with blood.
"I know what I must do now, Ninth Imperial Uncle."
"Send me away. His Majesty... has bestowed the Deposed Crown Prince’s estate upon me."
Having said this, Xiao Wuji could no longer hold on and fell unconscious. Prince Han hurriedly gathered him up in his arms. He looked back at the gilded, magnificent palace—that deep, dark labyrinth—and let out a long, heavy sigh.
"Imperial Elder Brother, only today do I understand what you meant."
"This palace... it consumes people alive."
***
At the Estate of the Duke of Yong, the Duchess of Yong regained consciousness from her stupor, staring blankly at the bed curtains.
"My Lady? My Lady, you're awake!"
The head maid, Zhao Mama, who had been bringing in medicine, hurried over upon seeing her mistress awake.
The Duchess turned her head, her eyes hazy. "Mama, how long have I been asleep? Why do I remember..."
As she spoke, memories of what happened before she passed out flickered back. She had gone to the Zhang Mansion to mourn her ungrateful daughter, only to witness a ridiculous, earth-shattering farce.
The Duchess paused. "Has the Zhang Family sent anyone?"
Zhao Mama helped her sit up and nodded. "They sent someone last night, instructing us to take good care of you, and they brought quite a few tonics. Also, Madame Bai sent this."
Zhao Mama brought over an envelope. The Duchess did not move; she knew all too well what was inside. It was this very envelope that had told her the rumors she heard at the funeral hall yesterday were not without foundation.
Yet, after a long silence, she simply asked, "Where is Miaochun?"
"The Second Miss kept watch by your side all night," Zhao Mama hurriedly replied. "She went to rest this morning in her own courtyard."
The Duchess paused, then asked, "Did my son-in-law go to the Zhang Mansion some days ago?"
Zhao Mama hesitated, but nodded. "Yes."
The Duchess closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Forget it. Her death has provided her sister and brother-in-law with new opportunities."
She took the envelope and tore it open, finding exactly what she expected to see: dozens of banknotes and a formal promise from the Zhang Family. As long as the Estate of the Duke of Yong ceased pursuing the cause of Song Xiyan's death—as long as they treated a great matter as small and a small matter as nothing—everything could be arranged.
The Duchess suppressed the faint irritation rising in her heart. Thinking of the benefits this letter could bring her son-in-law and the advantages it would secure for her beloved Miaochun, she began to smile.
"The Zhang Family is certainly generous."
For years, the Estate of the Duke of Yong had been propped up by her, a place of gilded exterior hiding a decaying interior. Her husband cared for nothing but indulging in beauty. None of the younger generation of the Zhang Family compared to her Miaochun. Even that foolish, wicked Song Xiyan, though she bore her blood, was nothing like her.
"Tell me, if Song Xiyan had been obedient and married the man I chose for her, how could she have ended up like this?"
"If you must blame someone, blame the fact that she had the blood of that dog in her veins. It makes me loathe the sight of her!"
The Duchess had borne the Duke three children—two sons and a daughter. But the two sons were mediocre; they had committed no great errors, but they possessed no great talent either, and they certainly didn't compare to her Miaochun. Fortunately, they were close to Miaochun, which meant they would have a pillar of support in the future.
Zhao Mama nodded. "Indeed."
"It was her fate," the Duchess continued. "Everything was her own doing; it has nothing to do with us." She seemed to be convincing herself. "Consider this her repaying me for the grace of raising her." Even though she had raised Song Xiyan for less than two years, years in which the girl had been constantly abused until she was finally driven to a dead end.
"Mother!"
Hearing that the Duchess had woken up, Song Miaochun rushed over, abandoning her rest.
"Ah, Miaochun."
The Duchess’s face instantly lit up with joy. Mother and daughter held hands, and as Song Miaochun tearfully voiced her concerns, the last shred of the Duchess's conscience dissolved.
"Do not worry. Grand Secretary Zhang will surely handle these matters. You should instead consider how you and your husband can utilize the promise from his mansion." The Duchess stroked Song Miaochun’s hand, leaning against the bed with a look of utter tenderness. It was a gaze and a tone Song Xiyan had never experienced.
"Yes! Thank you, Mother!"
When Song Miaochun emerged from the Duchess’s room, the worry on her face vanished as soon as she turned a corner. She narrowed her eyes. "Song Xiyan is already dead. Who on earth is still trying to seek justice for her?"
She twisted her handkerchief tightly. She thought of how she had incited Madame Bai to cut out Song Xiyan’s heart and how she had conspired with Qin Yanran to push Song Xiyan to her death step by step. Now, with such an unstable element appearing at the Zhang Family’s funeral, she would be lying if she said she wasn't worried. She had to find a way to eliminate this threat!
From the moment she transmigrated into this body—the original owner who had sought death upon discovering she was an adopted daughter—she knew that she and Song Xiyan were locked in a fight to the death. She had to snatch everything that belonged to Song Xiyan, toil away at managing that empty Marquis’s Estate, and motivate her husband to strive for success. Only then could she ruthlessly crush Song Xiyan, making everyone in the Estate of the Duke of Yong know only her, Song Miaochun, and never that biological daughter, Song Xiyan!
Now, she had succeeded.
If you asked her if she truly loved the Duchess or those brothers in the estate? Of course it was a lie. Since transmigrating, she had been playing the role of Song Miaochun, never once revealing her true self.
Did she love her husband? In two years, she hadn't borne a child, and when the sharp-tongued mother-in-law at the Marquis's Estate fed her bitter medicine every day, her husband only coaxed her to drink more. If not for the fact that he didn't philander—making him somewhat loyal compared to other men of this ancient era—she would have already plotted to become a widow, rather than wasting her energy maintaining a facade of a loving couple.
She knew everything she had was stolen, so she was desperate to crush Song Xiyan and desperate to clear away any unstable factors.
"Qiaohong, go and investigate where that maid, Azhu, is now."
The Zhang Family claimed Azhu must have died at the hands of the guards. But if she were dead, why would the person who caused such a scene at the funeral take her away? If she were still alive, Azhu was that person's greatest vulnerability. Perhaps, by finding Azhu, she would find that person!
Her maid, Qiaohong, nodded. "Yes!"
Song Miaochun had finished her performance of motherly affection and was returning to the Marquis’s Estate to catch up on sleep. But as she stepped outside, she saw two old people at the gates.
"Please! I beg you, let us see the Duke!"
"My granddaughter works in this estate. She used to come home every half month, but it’s been two months and we haven't heard a word!"
She glanced at the ragged old couple and sneered. A granddaughter? Probably taken a fancy to by her cheapskate father. Her mother had apparently beaten a maid to death for crawling into a bed two months ago; that was likely their granddaughter. Just ants, nothing more.
The gatekeepers rudely drove the two elders away. The people on the street watched from a distance, no one daring to step forward to help.
It was precisely at this moment that Lingxiao passed by. She had spent the night scattering paper and searching for street urchins, finding herself at the Estate of the Duke of Yong before she knew it. Seeing the gatekeepers bullying the old folks, she narrowed her eyes, glanced around, and walked up, brandishing a wooden staff.
"You dog-brained wretches! You want to see the Duke? I don't think you know how hard your own bones are!"
The burly gatekeepers, who took their frustrations out on the weak all day, found it the perfect time to vent when these two blind old fools came knocking. Just as they were about to land another kick on the elders, a loud "Bang!" rang out, followed by a surge of immense pain as they were sent flying!
Lingxiao struck the gatekeepers down with two blows, leaving them unable to rise. She pulled the two elders up, only then learning their granddaughter was missing. Their granddaughter was a commoner; even if sold into the estate, by law, she was not someone who could be beaten to death at will.
Lingxiao quickly understood what had likely happened. She stared at the high plaque of the Duke’s estate and led the two elders away.
"Old ones, if you go back now, you’re just throwing your lives away."
Lingxiao gave them a handkerchief. The two elders leaned on each other, but suddenly fell to their knees before her. The old woman wept, "Miss! My granddaughter is only fifteen. If we weren't useless and sick, unable to earn money, we never would have let her be sold as a maid! My Daya is sensible; she’s careful and diligent. She definitely wouldn't have made a mistake! I beg you! Please help us find her!"
Lingxiao paused and sighed. "I can help you, but now is not the time. We don't even know her current state. In this high and mighty Duke’s estate, even if your granddaughter is truly..."
"Who could do anything to them in the short term?"
She reached out to help them up. "Listen to me. We must lay low for now. Do not strike a stone with an egg. I also have a grudge against this estate. I hate that those high-and-mighty people who hold my life in their hands are still alive. But I cannot kill them right now. Since that’s the case, why not wait a while longer and fight for a chance?"
The old woman looked at Lingxiao, her eyes red. "But my Daya... is she still alive?"
When she asked this, she already knew the answer. If she were still alive, how could there be no news for so long? The child was home-loving; even if something had happened, she would have found a way to send word.
"Look, they’re right there!"
The guards from the Duke’s estate chased after them. Seeing this, Lingxiao and the two elders fled. Only then did Lingxiao learn that the two elders lived in the dilapidated alleys to the south of the Capital. That place was the most wretched and impoverished part of the city. One could say it was the Capital’s "refugee camp"—a chaotic place where everyone mingled, rife with theft and violence, which the Metropolitan Governor ignored. It was a place no one cared about; as long as no major incidents occurred, the authorities couldn't be bothered.
Lingxiao realized that this might be her foothold.
"Old ones, my name is Lingxiao." She said, "My younger sister Azhu and I have nowhere to go. Perhaps you could help us find a small courtyard to stay in for a while."
Too many people had seen Azhu’s face. If someone used her as a lead, her exposure would be fatal. And with her current injuries, she couldn't travel far; she had to recover in the Capital. Lingxiao thought she would need at least two months of recovery before she could send the child away.
The two elders were not heartless; they knew that had it not been for Lingxiao, they would have already died under the boots of those guards. "Miss, that is easily done, easily done."
Thus, when Azhu woke up, she found herself lying on layers of clean, though worn, bedding. The quilt covering her was warm, and the gentle sunlight shining through the window made her feel cozy.
"Sss." She tried to get up, but it pulled at her wounds.
"Oh, Azhu, don't move." Hearing the sound, Mother Huang hurried in with medicine, urging her to lie back down. "Your sister had things to attend to and went out. Rest well, she should be back by nightfall."
Recalling the person she had seen before losing consciousness, Azhu’s eyes turned red. "My Lady..." She nodded. "Is... is this the place my sister found?"
Mother Huang nodded. "Yes. She specifically instructed me to make sure you drink your medicine and rest well before she left."
Azhu took the medicine and gulped it down, tears mixing with the liquid. She was immersed in the joy that her lady was not dead. To her, as long as her lady lived, her own existence had meaning. Watching her swallow the medicine without a frown, Mother Huang thought of her own Daya and turned aside to wipe away her tears. "Good child, rest now."
And Lingxiao? After settling Azhu, she heard the sound of bells and hurried to find her Changsheng, the Imperial Grandson...
Lingxiao hadn't expected that in just one night, streaks of white had appeared amidst Xiao Wuji’s hair. He sat by the window in a loose robe, watching a dead magnolia tree outside. The wind blew his hair and revealed his thin, frail arms inside his sleeves.
"Lingxiao, you’ve come..."
Lingxiao sat beside him, hearing him murmur, "My father... is dead."
"I killed him."
Lingxiao froze, watching Xiao Wuji offer a self-deprecating smile. "This is the place where I grew up. I always thought this was my home. But now, I feel there is no home for me in this world..."