The information Aunt Qin could access was extremely limited and strictly filtered. Yet from her increasingly ashen complexion, from the occasional redness and hesitation in Chunyu's eyes, from the deliberately lowered, pity-filled whispers of the palace servants on duty outside the hall, I was still able to piece together some heart-rending fragments.
After my mother was dismissed from office, she was ordered to "reflect" at home. In reality, it was no different from house arrest. It was said that old acquaintances had attempted to visit, only to be turned away by the guards. The household's provisions had not been cut, but that ever-present gloom—living each day in fear of the next—was enough to crush anyone's spirit.
My eldest sister, Su Pei, was in the Heavenly Prison, her situation the most dire of all. What kind of place was the Heavenly Prison? The punishment injuries she had last time probably had not even fully healed, and now she had fallen back into the tiger's jaws again… Aunt Qin only alluded obliquely that there were reports of my eldest sister's old wounds flaring up, but whether imperial physicians were even permitted to enter to treat her was still unknown.
My second sister, Su Fei, was also facing a sharp turn for the worse at the Imperial Academy. Once highly regarded for her talent, she was now cold-shouldered and ostracized. Former classmates avoided her like the plague, and it was said that even the lecturers had become much harsher in their words. She was still doing her utmost to maintain composure, even using extremely discreet connections to send word telling me to "rest assured," but how perilous her situation was could be imagined all too clearly.
My third sister, Su Xiao, was in the army, with no news at all. This instead became the most terrifying sword hanging overhead. Had she already been placed under control? Or because she held part of the military authority and was implicated more deeply, did her case require greater caution? Or was it that… something had already gone wrong within the army?
The Su family, once a great tree with deep roots and luxuriant foliage, was visibly withering and toppling by the day. And I, this sickly little bird imprisoned on the most splendid branch of the deep palace, could do nothing but endure the flaying torment day and night, unable even to let out a single mournful cry.
The symptom of coughing blood worsened sharply after this blow. Every morning, the spittoon held stains of reddish-brown, light or dark, and the dull pain in my chest became an endless background hum. The prescriptions from the imperial physicians grew stronger and stronger; the time Aunt Qin spent applying acupuncture grew longer and longer. Yet I could clearly feel the breath of life draining away bit by bit from this ruined body. At times, gazing at that pale, gaunt face with sunken eyes in the mirror, I would dazedly feel that it was already the visage of a dead person.
Xiao Yuhuang had not appeared since that hasty departure.
It was as though she had vanished entirely from my world, yet was everywhere—through the increasingly strict guards, through Aunt Qin's ever more cautious words, through the cold, imperial pressure permeating every inch of air in this palace. She isolated me, together with my pain, my fear, and my family's calamity, inside this exquisite cage, leaving it all to ferment and rot.
What was she waiting for? For me to completely collapse? For me to wag my tail and beg for mercy? Or for me to… die here quietly and without a sound?
No. I could not die like this. I could not let the Su family be completely destroyed because of my "crime," could not let my eldest sister die unjustly in the Heavenly Prison, could not let my parents spend their later years in disgrace and desolation.
A mad yet resolute thought gradually took shape in my heart, like the only flickering cold star in the darkness, carrying the stench of blood.
I needed an opportunity—an opportunity to see her face to face. An opportunity to wager everything I had left, one final time.
That opportunity arrived abruptly on an evening after the snow had just cleared.
The head attendant of Fengqi Palace came to deliver the message, her tone carrying a trace of barely concealed tension. "Young Master, His Majesty… will come to visit after the evening meal."
Visit? At a time when the Su family was in turmoil, after I had vomited blood and fallen unconscious? Had she finally remembered that there was still this "object" that needed to be checked for damage? Or… had a final decision regarding the Su family been made?
My heart was ice-cold, utterly unruffled. I only calmly instructed Aunt Qin, "Help me wash and change."
Seeing my unnaturally calm expression, the worry in Aunt Qin's eyes deepened. Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she merely complied in silence. She dressed me in a simple moon-white everyday robe. My long hair was loosely tied, with no ornaments at all—except for one thing. Quietly, from the very bottom of my dressing box, I took out the phoenix-headed hairpin of red gold and kingfisher feathers that my mother had given me on my coming-of-age. The body of the pin was icy cold; the phoenix's beak held a coral bead as red as blood. I clenched it tightly in my palm, the sharp tail of the pin pressing into my flesh, bringing a faint yet distinct sting.
I ate almost nothing at dinner. When the sky fully darkened and palace lamps lit one by one, the familiar, steady footsteps finally sounded outside the hall.
She walked in.
Still dressed in plain black, her complexion looked somewhat dim under the lamplight. Fatigue from days of toil showed between her brows, yet her eyes remained unfathomably deep and calm. She swept a glance over me, her gaze pausing briefly on my overly pale face before shifting away, as if merely confirming that an object was still in its place.
"Looks like the physicians have been doing their duty," she said, walking to the window with her back to me, her voice flat and even. "Your color seems a bit better."
Better? I nearly laughed coldly. This body was already a dying ember in the wind. Any so-called "improvement" was nothing more than the illusion of a final flare—or proof that she had not looked closely at all.
I did not respond, only stood there quietly, the fingers gripping the golden hairpin tightening by another fraction.
The hall fell into a suffocating silence. Only the occasional crackle of the charcoal fire and the faint sound of her fingers unconsciously tapping against the window lattice broke the stillness.
At last, she turned around. Her gaze settled on me again. It was no longer pure indifference, but carried a trace of obsession, and… an extremely faint complexity that perhaps even she herself had not noticed.
"You already know about the Su family." It was not a question, but a statement. Her tone was still calm, yet it sliced through the last shred of false warmth like a dull blade.
I raised my eyes to meet her gaze. There was no pleading, no anger in them—only the dead stillness of stagnant water. "Yes," I heard my own voice say, dry and steady. "Your Majesty's thunderous methods—how would Yuzhi dare not know?"
Her brows knit almost imperceptibly, as if my eerily calm reaction had caught her off guard and displeased her. "Su Pei recklessly discussed court affairs and spoke on behalf of the families of traitors, violating the law. Chancellor Su failed to teach her daughter properly and behaved improperly before the throne. I dealt with them according to the law. What is improper about that?"
What is improper? How fine—"according to the law"! How grand and righteous!
Days of suppressed grief, despair, and icy hatred surged like an ignited volcano, finally breaking through every dam of reason. Yet I did not roar, did not weep. I merely crushed that destructive emotion beneath a veneer of calm, letting it harden into something even colder.
"Your Majesty's actions are naturally… without impropriety," I said slowly, stepping forward, a little closer to her, close enough to clearly see my ghost-pale reflection in her eyes. "Thunder and rain alike are Heaven's grace. That the Su family cannot bear it… is the Su family's fault."
She stared at me, her gaze sharpening as if assessing the true meaning of my words. "It is good that you understand." Her tone softened slightly, carrying a trace—perhaps even unbeknownst to herself—of something almost like reassurance. "Rest and recover. If the Su family knows how to keep its place, I am not one who must exterminate everything."
Keep its place? What kind of "keeping its place"? To become fish on the chopping block, waiting to be carved at will?
I tugged at the corner of my mouth, trying to smile, but only managed a curve uglier than tears. "Your Majesty," my voice grew lighter, yet clearer, carrying the resolve of one who has smashed the cauldron and sunk the boats, "Yuzhi has one question, and I beg your indulgence to ask it."