Chapter 8
2455words
That day was the fifteenth of July, when the Palace Guards were customarily given rewards. I woke up early and, while applying my eyebrows before the mirror, noticed my hand trembling slightly. The reflection in the bronze mirror looked unfamiliar—the fine lines at the corners of my eyes had deepened since last year, and a few strands of white hair had appeared at my temples. I sighed and fixed the last golden hairpin in place.
"Your Highness, Lord Marcus has arrived," the maid reported softly from outside the door.
I took a deep breath, making sure my voice sounded as usual: "Please show him in."
Lord Marcus wore casual attire, yet his expression was even more solemn than when he wore his court robes. After entering, he said nothing, merely signaling with his eyes for me to dismiss everyone present. Once only the two of us remained in the room, he pulled out a precisely folded piece of paper from his sleeve.
"Everything has been arranged," he said in a very low voice. "Tomorrow at dawn, the Imperial Guards will gather at the North Gate to receive their rewards. At that time—"
I took the paper, which was densely filled with names and official titles. At the very bottom was Lord Marcus's signature, the ink still not completely dry. I suddenly felt that signature was like a snake, winding its way into my heart.
"Chancellor Thomas will lead the right wing of the Imperial Guards to surround the Eastern Palace, while General Richard's forces will provide support outside the palace," Lord Marcus continued, his voice seeming to come from far away. "Once the Crown Prince is captured, you will enter the palace to see His Majesty and report that the Crown Prince was plotting rebellion..."
I nodded; we had discussed these plans countless times. But today, hearing them again, each word felt like an icicle piercing my heart. I poured a cup of tea and pushed it toward him: "Drink some water, look at how dry your lips are."
Lord Marcus took the tea but didn't drink it, just clutched it in his hand and rotated it. The teacup made subtle clicking sounds between his fingers, which I found terribly distracting.
"After it's done..." I tentatively asked, "are you really confident you can stabilize the court?"
Only then did he look up at me, his eyes bloodshot: "I drafted three imperial edicts overnight. One to depose the Crown Prince, one to appoint... appoint you as regent, and another..." He suddenly paused, spilling a few drops of tea that spread dark stains on the table.
My heart sank. What the third edict contained, we both knew well—it was an ultimatum for Third Brother. Either surrender his military authority, or... I remembered how he used to call me auntie when he was little, and it felt like a knife carving out a piece of my heart.
"Don't overthink it." I placed my hand over the back of his, "When this is over, I'll request that you be appointed as Imperial Secretary. By then Chongjian will have returned, and we..."
Before I could finish, hurried footsteps suddenly came from outside. Lord Marcus withdrew his hand as if scalded, and the list fluttered to the ground. As I bent down to pick it up, I heard an unfamiliar male voice from beyond the door:
"Your Highness, His Majesty sends word requesting your immediate presence at the palace."
I exchanged a glance with Lord Marcus. Being summoned at this hour was truly suspicious. He quickly stuffed the list into my hand: "Hide it well. I'll go contact Chancellor Thomas immediately. No matter what the palace says, the plan remains unchanged."
I nodded, hiding the list deep within my sleeve pocket. As I left, I deliberately looked back—Lord Marcus stood motionless, with sunlight streaming in from behind him, casting a long shadow on the ground like a solitary flagpole.
On the way to the palace, the carriage felt bumpier than usual. I lifted the curtain and saw many unfamiliar faces on the streets—the candy sellers and fortune tellers had all disappeared, replaced by burly men carrying swords. My heart beat faster and faster, my fingers unconsciously rubbing the list hidden in my sleeve.
Outside the Purple Dawn Hall, Prince Edward waited for me with his hands behind his back. He was wearing the Crown Prince's regular attire, the jade ornament at his waist jingling as he turned. Seeing me arrive, he actually smiled: "Auntie, you came quickly."
I forced myself to remain calm: "Where is His Majesty?"
"Father Emperor is resting in the side hall." He made a gesture of invitation, "Nephew has a few words to say to Aunt in private."
Dragon incense was burning in the side hall, so sweet and cloying it made one feel stuffy. As soon as I sat down, Prince Edward pushed a brocade box toward me. When I opened it, I saw the jade pendant I had given to Chongjian last year—with the characters "Peace" engraved on it.
"Your son is doing well in Luoyang," he said methodically. "It's just that... lately he's been dreaming about his father. Duke Henry passed away early, and the poor child doesn't even have a place to pay respects."
My fingers trembled, and I nearly dropped the jade pendant. After Duke Henry died, he was buried in a mass grave. Over the years, I had secretly set up a memorial tablet for him, but never dared let Chongjian know.
"What exactly does Prince Edward want to say?" I heard my own voice tighten.
Prince Edward didn't rush to answer, but instead pulled several papers from his sleeve. I glanced at them and felt my blood run cold—they were the letters exchanged between Lord Marcus and myself, and even Chancellor Thomas's confidential reports. At the bottom was a list, identical to the one in my sleeve pocket, down to the very creases.
"What good ingredients..." he suddenly changed the subject, "were added to Auntie's tea?"
I stood up abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. Prince Edward merely smiled: "Don't be nervous, it was just a sobering soup. However..." he pointed to the list, "this thing is far more potent than any sobering soup."
The sound of armor clashing came from outside the window. I turned to look and saw a squad of Imperial Guards passing through the corridor, led by none other than Commander James, who was supposed to be "bedridden." As they passed by, Commander James looked up at me, his gaze reminiscent of a wolf's.
"Lord Marcus..." my throat went dry, "where is he?"
"At the North Gate." Prince Edward put away his smile, "He should be having tea with Chancellor Thomas now. But in the tea..." he made a gesture of silence, "Auntie understands."
My legs weakened and I sat back down in the chair. The jade pendant in the brocade box emitted a cold light, like an eye mocking me. So from beginning to end, our every move was under someone else's watchful eye. That maid who delivered messages to Lord Marcus, that little eunuch who always helped in the kitchen, even... I suddenly remembered, the last name on the list, the handwriting seemed a bit more careless than usual.
"What does Third Brother want?" I heard myself ask, my voice as light as a falling leaf.
Prince Edward crouched down, looking at me eye to eye: "Your nephew only wants one honest answer from auntie—tomorrow at dawn, outside the North Gate, what does auntie plan to do?"
I stared at him. This child who had called me auntie since he was little, somehow had fine lines around his eyes now. When he was young, he would cry and look for me after falling, but now he could have the Imperial Guards silently surround an entire palace. I suddenly realized that none of us could go back to how things were.
"What if I don't tell?" I heard myself ask.
Prince Edward sighed and took out a small porcelain bottle from his sleeve, placing it on the table: "This is poisoned wine. It would be more dignified for you, Auntie. I promise Lord Marcus will live out his days in peace."
The porcelain bottle was blindingly white, reminding me of the mourning clothes my mother wore when she died. I reached for it but withdrew my hand before touching it: "Let me see Lord Marcus once."
"Auntie..." Prince Edward shook his head, "At this point, why bother—"
"Just once," I interrupted him, "Otherwise, I promise that tomorrow all of Chang'an will hear rumors of the Crown Prince killing his aunt."
The hall was so quiet you could hear the ash falling from the incense. Finally, Prince Edward nodded: "The time of one incense stick."
When Lord Marcus was brought in, his steps were unsteady. His court robes were wrinkled, there was a bruise on his left cheek, and blood stained the corner of his mouth. Upon seeing me, his eyes brightened for an instant, then dimmed again.
"Your Highness..." his voice was hoarse, "I... I have failed you."
I reached out to touch his wounds, but was blocked by the guards. Prince Edward stood at the doorway, like an invisible wall. I lowered my voice: "The list... how did they..."
"That servant girl who brought the soup," Lord Marcus smiled bitterly. "Her brother works in the Crown Prince's residence."
So that was it. I should have realized sooner that only someone close could have informed Prince Edward about our plan in advance. I had seen that servant girl before - round face, with a tiger tooth when she smiled, always grinding ink for me when I practiced calligraphy. She had brought Lord Marcus sobering soup, claiming it was on my orders.
"Chongjian..." my throat tightened, "they promised to spare Chongjian..."
Lord Marcus suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip painfully tight: "Don't believe him! The Third Prince... he even to his own brothers..." He didn't finish before guards stepped forward to separate us.
Prince Edward approached: "Has Aunt considered my offer?"
I glanced at Lord Marcus, then at the bottle of poison. The sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on the jade pendant. I recalled when Chongjian was little, how he would always rest his head on my knee and ask: "Mother, when will Father return?" I lied to him that his father had gone to a faraway place and would return when Chongjian grew up.
"I'll write it," I heard myself say, "But on one condition—let Lord Marcus leave, far away, never to return to Chang'an."
Prince Edward raised an eyebrow: "Aunt feels..."
"What are you afraid of?" I sneered, "Afraid I'll become a ghost after death and come back for revenge?" I pointed at Lord Marcus, "He's merely a palace secretary, killing him would dirty your hands."
The hall fell silent again. Finally, Prince Edward nodded: "Very well. But aunt must write it clearly—the time, place, and everyone involved."
The brush and ink were already prepared. As I picked up the brush, my hand trembled so much I could barely hold it. Lord Marcus struggled among the guards, making muffled sounds through the hand covering his mouth. I took a deep breath and began to write:
"Tomorrow at dawn, outside the North Gate, Chancellor Thomas leading the Imperial Guards..."
Halfway through, a drop of ink fell onto the paper, spreading into an ugly blot. I looked up at Lord Marcus, who was shaking his head desperately, tears streaming down his bruised face. I suddenly remembered that rainy night seven years ago when he climbed over the wall in the rain to find me, soaking wet yet smiling like a child, saying: "Meeting Your Highness is the greatest fortune of my three lifetimes."
As the brush made its final mark on the paper, I heard the sound of my bones breaking—not real bones, but something in my heart that shattered forever.
Prince Edward put away the paper: "Nephew promises, aunt will leave with dignity."
I looked at him: "Third Prince, let me ask you one last thing—that maid, what benefit did you give her?"
He was stunned for a moment: "Her brother's life. Last year he committed an offense that should have resulted in exile to Lingnan."
So that was it. A life for a life, very fair. I nodded, reaching for the porcelain bottle, but stopped before touching it: "Wait... let me..."
Before I could finish, the palace doors were suddenly pushed open. A guard rushed in frantically: "Your Highness! Chancellor Thomas... Lord Thomas is at the North Gate..."
Prince Edward's expression changed: "What happened?"
"He said... he said Lord Marcus left a letter, and after Chancellor Thomas read it, he... he took his own life!"
I turned sharply to look at Lord Marcus, whose face still had traces of tears, yet the corners of his mouth curved slightly upward. In a flash of insight, I understood—that "letter" wasn't a letter at all, but Chancellor Thomas's death warrant. Lord Marcus had calculated this move all along, had manipulated the list from the beginning.
Prince Edward walked quickly toward the exit, but at the doorway he turned back to look at me with a complex expression in his eyes: "Aunt... I've changed my mind." He pointed at the porcelain bottle. "This thing, let's keep it for someone who truly needs it."
When the guards escorted Lord Marcus out, he looked back at me one last time. That gaze contained too many emotions—guilt, resolve, and... relief. I suddenly remembered the line he had written on his poetry draft: "When will our yearning hearts meet again? On this night, in this moment, emotions are too difficult to bear." It turns out it wasn't written for me, but for himself.
After the palace doors closed, I collapsed onto the floor. The jade pendant rolled out of its brocade box, making a crisp sound against the floor. The sunlight remained beautiful, casting an eerie blue glow on the poisoned wine. I reached out for it, but withdrew my hand before touching it—the life force that Lord Marcus had exchanged with his life couldn't be wasted like this.
Outside the window, a squad of Imperial Guards hurried past, their armor flashing blindingly in the sunlight. Further away, the bell at the North Gate was ringing, one toll after another, as if sending someone to their grave.
I sat in the empty side hall, realizing for the first time that power is like sand in one's hands—the tighter you grip it, the faster it slips away.
