Chapter 7
2432words
That morning, I went to the palace to pay my respects as usual. Just as I approached the Zichen Hall, I heard the sound of porcelain shattering from inside. The eunuch standing guard at the door was pale-faced and, upon seeing me, looked as if he'd found a savior. He hurriedly whispered, "Princess, please go in and calm him down. His Majesty is in a rage again today."
I straightened my clothes, took a deep breath, and stepped inside. The hall was in disarray, with torn memorial papers scattered on the floor alongside a teacup that had been smashed to pieces. Father sat on the Dragon Throne, head propped up by both hands, looking ten years older than when I last saw him. His temples had turned completely white, like they were covered with frost in the morning light.
"Father..." I walked over with light steps, "Who has angered you again?"
Father raised his head, and I saw his eyes were bloodshot. This man who was once spirited and had turned the tide during the North Gate Incident, now appeared completely exhausted.
"Taiping ah..." he pointed to the memorials on the ground, "see for yourself. The Crown Prince's people are pressuring me again."
I crouched down and picked up a few torn pages of the memorials. They contained the same old rhetoric—praising the Crown Prince's benevolence, his popular support, urging the emperor to make succession plans soon. But this time, the wording was more urgent than before, with subtle hints of forcing the emperor's hand.
"San Lang he..." father's voice suddenly choked, "he can't wait anymore."
My heart sank. San Lang was Prince Edward's childhood name, and father only called him that when speaking of this most beloved son. Looking at his trembling hands, I suddenly realized a terrifying truth: father was hesitating, wavering. He was really going to abdicate.
"Father!" I fell to my knees and crawled to his feet, "You can't! San Lang... he harbors sinister ambitions and doesn't respect you at all!"
Father shook his head wearily: "Taiping, you don't understand. I am tired... truly exhausted. Every day when I open my eyes, it's endless conflict. Your brothers... you and the Third Prince... I feel like I'm caught between millstones, being ground to dust."
My tears came instantly, and this wasn't entirely an act. Father's words reminded me of my mother who died early, and of the bloody power struggles in the palace these past years. I clutched at the hem of his robe, my voice choked: "Does Father still remember Mother's last words before she died? She asked you to protect me well... now if you let go and don't intervene, your daughter... your daughter will only face death!"
At the mention of Mother, Father was visibly shaken. He trembled as he touched my face: "Foolish child, the Third Prince is your own nephew, how could he possibly..."
"How could I not!" I raised my head, tears streaming down my cheeks, "How did Wan'er die? And how did Li Zhongjun die? Father, if Third Brother cannot even tolerate his own siblings, how could he possibly accept me, his aunt!" I grew increasingly agitated as I spoke, "Just look at these years, he acts filial on the surface, but behind the scenes he forms factions and cultivates personal influence. Even Lord Benjamin and Minister William have been won over by him! Is this how an Heir Apparent should behave? It's clearly... clearly premeditated!"
Father remained silent for a long time, so long that I thought he would not speak again. The sunlight outside gradually intensified, shining on the floor tiles between us, like an unbridgeable chasm.
"Taiping..." He finally let out a long sigh, "I know what you're worried about. But I'm old, truly tired. Perhaps... perhaps handing over the realm to the younger generation is actually a good thing."
"Good news?" I sneered, "Has Father forgotten how Grandmother treated you back then? Forgotten how Lee Chongmao died?" I grabbed his wrist, my nails almost digging into his flesh, "Once Third Brother ascends the throne, I will be the first one he deals with! What would you have Chongjian do then? He's barely in his twenties, do you want him to follow his father's fate?"
At the mention of Duke Henry, father's expression finally changed. Duke Henry was my first husband, who died in Lady Margaret's unjust case. For years I had carefully avoided mentioning him, but now I couldn't help it.
"Chongjian... is a good child." Father's voice lowered.
"Yes, a good child." I wiped away my tears, "You watched him grow up, what wrong has he done? Should he suffer just because he's my son? Father, if you really abdicate, your daughter... your daughter will have no choice but to take Chongjian and flee far away, never to set foot in Chang'an again!"
I spoke with absolute certainty, though I knew perfectly well in my heart: when that moment truly came, my son and I would have nowhere to escape. Prince Edward would not spare anyone who threatened his throne, even if that person was once his own aunt.
Father ultimately gave me no clear answer. He merely waved his hand dismissing me, saying he would consider it further. But I knew what this "consideration" meant—he was wavering, weighing his options. And I, I had no way back.
Leaving the palace, I didn't return home but instead had my driver take me to Lord Marcus's private residence. All these years we had been very careful, never meeting during daylight. But today I couldn't afford such caution; I needed someone to talk to.
Lord Marcus was writing in his study when I suddenly burst in, giving him quite a start. He dismissed his servants and personally closed the doors and windows before turning to look at me: "What happened? You look terrible."
I shook my head, suddenly feeling exhausted, too tired to even speak. I walked to the writing desk where he usually sat and saw an unfinished poem laid out, the ink still wet. It read: "When shall we meet again in our mutual longing? On this night, at this moment, how difficult these feelings are."
"You certainly have leisure time on your hands." I gave a bitter smile, picking up the draft to look at it. "Written for which young lady?"
Lord Marcus took the poem and crumpled it into a ball: "It was written for you. Just... I never found the right opportunity to give it to you."
His words made my heart ache. I looked at him, this man who had followed me for seven years, fine lines now appearing at the corners of his eyes. All these years, how much had he done for me, how many risks had he taken, yet I rarely spoke a kind word to him.
"Lord Marcus..." I suddenly spoke, my voice calmer than I had imagined, "I want to ask you something, and I need an honest answer."
"Go ahead."
"If... I'm just saying if, one day I'm no longer here, what would you do?"
He paused for a moment, then frowned: "What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I said." I walked to the window, looking at the locust tree outside, "If one day I die, or get banished to the frontier, what would you do?"
There was silence behind me for a long time, so long that I thought he wouldn't answer. Then I heard footsteps, and he embraced me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder: "I would find you. No matter how far."
"Fool." My eyes grew hot, "Who do you think you are? By then you'll barely be able to save yourself, yet you talk about finding me anywhere."
"Then we'll die together." His voice was soft, but determined, "Anyway, over these years, my life has already been bound to yours."
Those words nearly made me cry. I turned around, embracing him on my own initiative for the first time, burying my face against his chest. His heartbeat was steady, beating rhythmically, giving me a long-lost sense of security.
"Do you know?" I said in a muffled voice, "Actually, sometimes I... I really envy ordinary people. Envy that they can live simple, peaceful lives, not having to be on edge every day, not having to scheme against this person or guard against that person."
Lord Marcus said nothing, just held me tightly.
"Chongjian wrote me a letter today," I continued, "saying that everything is fine in Luoyang, it's just... he misses me. This child has been attached to me since he was little, but now that he's grown up, I worry about him even more."
"He'll be fine," Lord Marcus comforted me. "You've protected him well."
"Protected?" I laughed bitterly, "I can't even protect myself, how can I talk about protecting him? Today father told me he wants to abdicate to the third prince... Lord Marcus, I'm truly afraid. Not of dying, but afraid... afraid that Chongjian will end up with the same fate as his father."
As soon as these words left my mouth, I regretted them. Duke Henry's death was a forbidden topic between us, and I had never mentioned it in front of him all these years. But Lord Marcus just held me tighter: "That won't happen. As long as I'm here, I won't let such things happen."
"How can you guarantee that?" I pushed him away, tears finally falling, "You're just a junior secretary in the imperial library, how can you fight against a future emperor?"
Lord Marcus wiped my tears with his sleeve: "Because in these seven years, I've accumulated quite a few favors. Because I know too many of the Third Prince's secrets. Because..." he paused, "because I love you more than I love myself."
Had it been any other time, I would have laughed at his sappy words. But today, I only felt heartache. I looked at him, this talented scholar who should have had a bright future, who had been dragged into political turmoil because of me all these years, and now might even lose his life.
"Lord Marcus..." I grabbed his hand, "You should leave. While there's still time, leave Chang'an, leave this place of trouble. Find a good girl and live a peaceful life."
"Are you crazy?" He widened his eyes, "You want me to leave at a time like this?"
"I'm not crazy." I shook my head, "I just... don't want to drag you down. You've done enough for me over the years, I..."
Before I could finish, he stopped my words—with his mouth. The kiss was urgent, carrying a hint of punishment, as if trying to kiss back all my despondent words.
"Listen." His forehead pressed against mine, "I, Lord Marcus, in this lifetime, living I am yours, dead I am your ghost. You can't drive me away, can't scold me away. Even if I die, I'll wait for you at the Bridge of Helplessness."
His words made me laugh through my tears: "You're getting more and more sappy."
"Learned it from you." He laughed too, "Alright, no more gloomy talk. Let's discuss what matters—what do you plan to do?"
I took a deep breath and repeated my father's words along with my own concerns. After I finished, the room fell into silence. Outside the window, the locust tree rustled in the wind, sounding like countless tiny sighs.
"We need to come up with a plan." Lord Marcus finally spoke, "We cannot just sit and wait for death."
"What plan?" I laughed bitterly, "Unless... unless we depose him."
I was shocked by my own words. But Lord Marcus wasn't surprised, he just nodded thoughtfully: "It's not impossible."
"What do you mean?"
"There are many in court who are dissatisfied with the Crown Prince. Chancellor Thomas, General Richard, and... you know who else." He lowered his voice, "The key is the Palace Guards. As long as we control the Palace Guards, it can be done."
My heart began to race. This was indeed a solution, but the risk was too great. If we failed, there would be no turning back.
"Think it over." Lord Marcus held my hand, "I'll contact some people first, to test the waters. As for you... think about how to reassure His Majesty."
I nodded, suddenly feeling very cold. Lord Marcus noticed and pulled me onto the couch, wrapping me in a blanket. We nestled together like that, neither of us speaking. Outside the window, the sky gradually darkened. No lamps were lit inside; only moonlight leaked through the window lattice, painting mottled shadows on the floor.
"Lord Marcus..." I suddenly spoke, "Have you ever regretted it? Being with me all these years?"
"Regret what?" His voice was gentle in the darkness. "Regret falling in love with you? Or regret getting involved in all this?"
"Both."
"No," he kissed my forehead. "Never. If I had to do it all over again, I would still choose you. Even if I knew death would be the outcome, I would want to die in your arms."
Those words broke my restraint. I turned and embraced him, my tears soaking his collar. For the first time in all these years, I showed such vulnerability before him, crying like an ordinary woman, gasping for breath between sobs.
Lord Marcus did not try to persuade me, he just gently patted my back, as if soothing a child. When I was tired from crying, I fell asleep in his arms. In my drowsy state, I felt him carry me to bed, tuck me in, and then he kept holding my hand.
When I woke up in the middle of the night, the room was still dark. Lord Marcus was sleeping beside me, his breathing steady. In the moonlight, his profile appeared especially clear. I gently touched his face, and suddenly made up my mind.
I couldn't wait any longer. If I kept waiting, it would only lead to a dead end.
I had to take a gamble, betting all my chips. If I won, Chong Jian could live peacefully for the rest of his life; if I lost... at worst, I would die. Anyway, I've lived a full enough life these years.
I quietly got up and walked to the window. In the distance, the Imperial City was silent under the moonlight, like a sleeping beast. But I knew that before long, this beast would be awakened, and the entire Chang'an would tremble.
And I would be the one to wake it.
