Chapter 6
2051words
Outside the window, it was raining steadily, like someone crying endlessly. I lay on the bed, staring at the tassels on the canopy, where those phoenix embroidered with gold threads flickered in the candlelight, as if mocking me. The news just arrived from the palace—Prince Edward had promoted two more local officials, both his men. This left a heavy stone in my heart.
"Someone come here," I called out to the outer chamber.
Chuntao quickly came in with a robe draped over her: "Princess?"
"Go, summon Lord Marcus."
"Now? It's almost midnight..."
"Now."
Chuntao dared not ask more and hurried away. I knew what she would say, that summoning an external official late at night was against protocol. But what were protocols? Right now, I just wanted something that could set my mind at ease.
Lord Marcus came faster than I expected. He was wearing casual blue-green robes, his hair slightly disheveled, clearly having just crawled out of bed. In the candlelight, the weariness on his face was clearly visible, but his eyes still looked at me with the same gentleness.
"So late, what happened?" he asked softly.
I didn't speak, just moved further inside the bed. He understood, took off his outer robe and lay down. His body carried the coolness of the night rain, and a faint scent of ink—he had probably been reading books before sleeping.
"I dreamed of Mother again today," I leaned against his chest and said quietly, "I dreamed she was standing on the city wall, looking at me, not saying a word."
Lord Marcus's hand gently stroked my back: "What one thinks about during the day, one dreams about at night. You've been too tense lately."
"How can I not be nervous?" I looked up, observing his face in the candlelight. "That wolf cub Prince Edward was again currying favor at court today. That old fool Lord Benjamin actually publicly praised the Crown Prince for being 'virtuous and kind,' bah! Do they think I'm already dead?"
Lord Marcus's fingers paused: "Taiping, have you considered... perhaps easing up a bit?"
"Ease up on what?"
"Between you and the Crown Prince. This head-on confrontation benefits no one." His voice was soft, as if coaxing a willful child, "The Crown Prince is your nephew after all, blood is thicker than water..."
I sat up abruptly as if scalded: "Blood is thicker than water? Did he think about that when he killed Wan'er? Now everyone at court speaks of 'two lords,' and if we ease up any more, they'll start calling him 'Emperor'!"
Lord Marcus sighed and sat up as well: "That's not what I meant. It's just... sometimes taking a step back allows you to see things more clearly. If you two continue this feud, what if..."
"No what-ifs!" I interrupted him, my voice so sharp it startled even myself, "In my entire peaceful life, when have I ever backed down? When Empress Victoria wanted me dead, did I retreat? When Li Chongjun rebelled, did I yield? And now you want me to bow my head to some greenhorn? In your dreams!"
The room suddenly fell silent, with only the sound of rain still pattering. Lord Marcus looked at me, his eyes containing something I couldn't quite describe. After quite a while, he finally reached out and pulled me back into his embrace: "Alright, no backing down. Whatever you say."
Only then did I begin to calm down, leaning back into his arms. His heartbeat was steady, one beat after another, like some kind of promise. I reached up to touch his face, my fingertips tracing the new fine lines at the corners of his eyes—these days, he too had aged considerably.
"You'll always stand by my side, right?" I asked, my voice suddenly becoming very soft, like an insecure little girl.
"Of course," he answered immediately, without a moment's hesitation.
I looked up at him, trying to find a trace of falsehood in his eyes, but there was none. There was only that certainty that reassured me. So I leaned in to kiss him, with a sense of urgency, as if wanting to bind him tightly with this kiss. He was a bit surprised at first, but quickly responded to me.
That night, we clung to each other like two drowning people. I know it's ridiculous—a princess who holds power over the realm, needing a man's body to confirm loyalty. But I needed this, needed to feel his real warmth and heartbeat to temporarily forget those open attacks and hidden daggers in court.
As dawn approached, I hazily awoke to find Lord Marcus no longer in bed. Soft voices came from outside. I put on a robe and walked out to see him talking with Chuntao in the corridor. Chuntao was holding a medicine bowl, probably asking if she should brew the contraceptive potion—I had been drinking it all these years, unable to have children, which was the unspoken understanding between Lord Marcus and me.
But when I saw Chuntao smile at Lord Marcus, a surge of jealousy suddenly rose within me. That girl was only sixteen, with two dimples when she smiled, indeed quite charming.
"What are you talking about?" I asked coldly.
Both turned around at once, and Chuntao's face instantly paled: "Princess... this servant was just asking Lord Marcus if he wanted breakfast..."
Lord Marcus also noticed my displeasure: "Chuntao mentioned you didn't sleep well last night, so I thought to let you rest longer..."
"Rest longer?" I walked over, staring at Chuntao, "I wasn't aware that my people were now taking orders from you."
Chuntao fell to her knees with a thud: "Your servant wouldn't dare!"
Lord Marcus frowned: "Taiping, she was only being thoughtful..."
"Thoughtful?" I sneered, "Since when has Lord Marcus become so concerned about my maid?" I turned to Chuntao, "Starting today, you'll work at the kitchen fire. Don't let me see your face again."
Spring Peach was dragged away in tears. Lord Marcus stood in place, his expression complicated: "What's the point? She did nothing wrong."
"I don't like others touching what belongs to me," I stared into his eyes and said word by word, "Anyone."
Lord Marcus fell silent. I knew he understood my meaning—not just about Spring Peach, but about him too. From that day on, I had all the maids in the mansion replaced with older, uglier ones. I wouldn't even let Lord Marcus go out alone; whenever he needed to go to the magistrate's office, I would send two trusted men to follow him, ostensibly for protection, but actually for surveillance.
After less than half a month of this, Lord Marcus began to show signs of fatigue. The look in his eyes when he gazed at me became more cautious, and he would carefully consider his words before speaking. I knew he was enduring it, which left me both satisfied and irritated—satisfied that my authority had been confirmed, irritated that even he had to be so guarded around me now.
The turning point came on a rainy day.
That day, Lord Marcus went to the Ministry of Documents as usual, but when he returned in the evening, his expression was very off. As he entered, I was reading a confidential report stating that Prince Edward had been frequently meeting with frontier generals. I was troubled and distracted, not noticing his unusual demeanor until he placed a brocade pouch in front of me.
"What is this?" I asked without looking up.
"Someone slipped it to me today on Vermilion Bird Avenue," he said in a flat tone. "Said they were the Crown Prince's people."
I looked up sharply. Lord Marcus's face appeared exceptionally pale in the candlelight, with faint dark circles under his eyes. He opened the pouch and emptied out several sheets of paper—poetry notes in my handwriting, along with a few small portraits of me, but signed with different names: Xue Ji, Lu Zangyong, and even a young scholar I had never heard of.
"What does this mean?" My voice was trembling.
"They say..." Lord Marcus paused, as if choosing his words carefully, "These are all people who... you were once close to. The Crown Prince wants me to know that I am merely one of them."
I grabbed those poetry notes, my fingers trembling badly. They were indeed in my handwriting, but some were social verses written in my early years, and some were forgeries. Ridiculously, among them were actually old poems exchanged between Xue Ji and me when we were young—events from so many years ago that even I had almost forgotten.
"You believe this?" I heard my own voice, sharp and piercing.
Lord Marcus didn't answer directly, but slowly sat down and poured himself a cup of tea. His hands were also trembling slightly: "Taiping, how many years have we been together?"
"Seven years and four months," I blurted out, immediately realizing what this revealed.
He gave a bitter smile: "Yes, seven years and four months. Yet you've never asked me if I've been with anyone else during these seven years."
My heart sank: "What do you mean?"
"It means..." He raised his head, his gaze suddenly becoming sharp, "Although I, Lord Marcus, may not be a paragon of virtue, I at least know what it means to be devoted to one person. What about you? Over these years, besides power, what else has your heart had room for? Today you suspect this person, tomorrow you monitor that one, and you even punish someone if I so much as glance at a maid. What do you take me for? A dog tethered by your side?"
This was the first time he had spoken harshly to me. I was stunned, those poetry notes fluttering from my hands to the ground, like a pile of paper scraps mocking me.
"I... I just..." My voice suddenly went hoarse, "I'm just afraid of losing you."
"What you fear isn't losing me." Lord Marcus shook his head, "What you fear is losing control. Just like you fear losing control over the Crown Prince, control over the court... Taiping, have you ever considered that sometimes, the tighter you grip, the faster things slip away?"
The rain outside grew heavier, tapping against the window frames like countless tiny interrogations. I suddenly felt cold, the kind of cold that seeps through the marrow of one's bones. For the first time in seven years, I sensed an unfamiliar distance between Lord Marcus and myself. The way he looked at me was no longer with complete tenderness, but with a mixture of fatigue, disappointment, and... pity.
"Those poetry notes..." I began with difficulty, "I can explain..."
"It doesn't matter anymore," he interrupted me. "What matters is that the Crown Prince has begun to target people close to you. Today it's me, tomorrow it might be Chancellor Thomas, and the day after, General Richard. You may guard against everyone, but you cannot guard against your own heart."
That night, Lord Marcus slept in the study. I lay alone in bed, staring blankly at the canopy. I had locked those poetry notes in a box, but the words on them continued to swirl in my mind. For the first time, I began to wonder if I had truly done something wrong all these years.
What's more terrifying is that I've begun to suspect Lord Marcus. I question why he was so easily approached by the Crown Prince's people today, wonder if his calmness upon seeing these "evidences" was just an act, and even doubt... whether he's known something all along but simply never mentioned it.
Early the next morning, I quietly went to the study. Lord Marcus had fallen asleep hunched over the desk, with a paper spread out before him covered with the characters for "peace," some written neatly, others scrawled hastily, as if written over and over unconsciously. I looked at his tired profile, with strands of white hair appearing at his temples. This once vigorous Grand Chancellor was now gradually withering away in my cage.
I reached out my hand to touch his hair, but stopped midway. Because I suddenly realized that now, I needed courage even to touch him.
The rain continued to fall, endlessly pouring down.
