Lantai was the place in the palace where books were stored and histories were compiled.
Until before her coming-of-age ceremony, Lizhu and her younger brother Shen Fu had listened to the Crown Prince’s Grand Preceptor lecture on the classics there, so she was very familiar with the place.
Calculating the time, Lizhu entered just as the morning lesson was ending.
The Grand Preceptor put down the scripture, looked at the little prince who had fallen asleep below, and could not help shaking his head with a sigh. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Lizhu, and suddenly his eyes brightened.
“Why has the Princess come here? This old minister greets the Princess.”
Before his waist could bend down, Lizhu personally helped him up.
When he raised his head, the Grand Preceptor saw the Princess’s bright, spirited eyes fixed intently on him.
The Grand Preceptor was puzzled. “Has this old minister’s face become unclean today?”
“No,” Lizhu smiled, “it’s just that I haven’t seen you, old man, for so long, I rather missed you.”
Though she smiled on the surface, Lizhu felt a faint soreness in her heart.
In her previous life, the Grand Preceptor had not even lived to see the day Nanyong fell.
When Nanyong was first defeated by Beiyue, and the court decided to pay annual tribute to Beiyue, the Grand Preceptor, leading the faction that advocated war, submitted countless memorials.
Emperor Mingzhao turned a blind eye; the Grand Preceptor then knelt long outside the Yutang Hall, pleading for troops to be sent to war.
Emperor Mingzhao still refused.
On the very day the convoy carrying the tribute departed from Luoyang, news came from the Grand Preceptor’s residence.
The Grand Preceptor had shut himself in for seven days, fasting to death. When he died, he still maintained the posture of prostration, facing the direction of the former capital of Yong.
The mourning hall from her past life overlapped with the figure before her eyes.
“The more the Princess says such things, the more on guard this old minister becomes.”
Looking at the Princess, who was about the same age as his own granddaughter, the white-bearded Grand Preceptor smiled until the corners of his eyes folded into wrinkles.
“Last time, the Princess insisted that this old minister bring your calligraphy to the Monthly Appraisal, and who would have thought it would make you famous. People all over Luoyang were asking whose masterwork it was. It was nearly impossible to conceal—this time, don’t make me do such a thing again.”
“This time it’s not that!”
Lizhu hurried to explain:
“I came today because I want the Grand Preceptor to write a letter of recommendation, recommending a certain scholar to become the disciple of the great Confucian of our time, Xie Ji.”
This answer truly lay beyond the Grand Preceptor’s expectations.
Seeing Lizhu’s earnest expression, not joking in the least, the Grand Preceptor knew she had more to say. Looking around, he lifted his hand and led her into the inner room.
After they were seated before a carved lacquered screen, he asked in detail:
“The Princess has long dwelt deep in the palace and rarely associates with outsiders. I wonder which family’s scholar has such an honor as to be personally recommended by the Princess?”
“In fact, I’m not very clear myself.”
Feigning innocent ignorance, Lizhu blinked and said:
“It was Brother Yuhui who asked me for this favor. He said that although Xie Ji possesses great talent, his temperament is eccentric and he does not easily take disciples from outside families. Only the Grand Preceptor has good relations with Xie Ji and can extend such a favor.”
The Grand Preceptor’s brows knotted tighter as he listened. He looked at Lizhu, a look on his face as if he wished to speak yet hesitated.
Recommending a scholar was no great matter, yet once that person entered officialdom, he would surely become one of the Tan clan’s wings of power.
The Princess was, in truth, weaving a wedding robe for another.
But what could he say?
The southern local aristocratic families were powerful. Since the Nanyong court had moved its capital here, if the imperial decrees were to reach through smoothly, they had to cultivate the Tan clan, the emperor’s in-laws, to contend against those great clans.
Even if the Tan clan grew too powerful in the future and endangered the royal house, that would be a matter for later.
The marriage between the Tan family’s eldest legitimate son and the Princess had already been decided.
The Grand Preceptor said no more. He fetched a bamboo slip, took up his brush, and wrote the opening lines, then asked for the man’s name.
“Pei Yinzhi of the Yiling Pei clan.”
Resting her chin in her hand, Lizhu recited the name with a smiling face.
But the Grand Preceptor could not help feeling doubtful in his heart.
The Pei clan of Yiling?
Where had the Tan family dug up such a destitute household?
The Grand Preceptor sighed inwardly, completed the letter, and pressed the intaglio seal upon it.
When handing the letter of recommendation to Lizhu, he again earnestly advised:
“There are many men of insight in the court today, but few who can truly accomplish things. No matter his stance, when this man enters officialdom in the future, he must ever remember—be loyal to His Majesty, and loyal to the people of Nanyong…”
“Grand Preceptor, rest assured!”
Lizhu swiftly snatched up the letter. Startled, the Grand Preceptor raised his head, meeting the little princess’s bright and resolute gaze.
“Though he has not yet reached adulthood, he is full of talent, frail in body but firm in will. His lifelong aspiration is to reclaim the eleven northern prefectures, and for this he would sacrifice his life without hesitation! Should he enter officialdom, he will surely be able to unite this scattered court and become the pillar of Nanyong’s bureaucracy!”
The old man was stunned speechless.
“…Our Nanyong still has such a youthful hero?”
Lizhu nodded solemnly.
These words were not her own, but those once spoken by Xu Mengxuan, one of the Three Excellencies and the Imperial Censor, before the assembled ministers.
It was said that after Pei Yinzhi was promoted to serve in Luoyang, Xu Mengxuan looked upon the young man with great favor.
Receiving such praise from one of the Three Excellencies, Pei Yinzhi became famous upon first entering Luoyang.
Later, however, there were many rumors. That Xu Mengxuan had been coerced by Pei Yinzhi into uttering such exaggerated and insincere words to build his reputation.
Lizhu had only sneered at such slander.
A bunch of spineless cowards, defaming Nanyong’s great hero.
Except for the phrase “extraordinary learning,” which was perhaps a bit exaggerated, which of the other words were false?
Before Pei Yinzhi entered officialdom, the pacifist faction held absolute advantage in court.
Year after year, Nanyong paid tributes to Beiyue, fattening Beiyue’s national strength and feeding the Wuhuan people’s horses.
Had Pei Yinzhi not raised the banner of the war faction, Nanyong would have perished long before the seventh year of Xining.
These high ministers and nobles had read all the sages’ books, yet somehow turned out with faces of petty jealousy.
Having settled this matter of her heart, Lizhu bid the Grand Preceptor farewell, stepping lightly as she left the inner room.
“What’s that? Let me see!”
A childish voice suddenly sounded without warning.
Almost instantly, with the blood rushing straight to her head, Lizhu reacted swiftly—she turned sideways, clutching the letter of recommendation to her chest, letting the other person grab at empty air.
The boy stumbled, nearly falling, and turned around in anger.
“You’re guarding it so tightly, what shady thing are you hiding!”
Though his brows still carried childishness, the boy’s features already showed the outlines of a handsome youth.
Especially those eyes identical to Emperor Mingzhao’s, naturally carried a solemn authority that inspired fear at first glance.
This was Lizhu’s half-brother, the son of Empress Tan—Shen Fu.
“…What’s it to you.”
Lizhu slowly hid the letter behind her back, feigning calm, glancing at him sideways:
“That red mark on your face is so deep, did you fall asleep again during morning lessons today? Shen Fu, could it be you still haven’t understood your Guidelines for Beginners even after this year?”
Her tone was mild, but Lizhu’s heartbeat had already grown unbearably fast.
She must not let Shen Fu see Pei Yinzhi’s name.
If this letter of recommendation were to reach Empress Tan’s hands, Pei Yinzhi would be branded as part of the Princess’s faction, and Empress Tan would never allow him to rise again!
“You dare to mock me!” Shen Fu shouted angrily.
She even dares blow him up! Lizhu cursed inwardly in frustration.
Shen Fu said, “What use is all the writing you know? Once you come of age, you won’t even be allowed to come to Lantai to study anymore. I can keep studying as long as I want, Shen Lizhu, you must be dying of envy!”
An eight-year-old boy, at the most insufferable age, his smile was particularly nasty.
Lizhu knew she shouldn’t stoop to quarrel with a child.
But still, his words made her face flush red, because Shen Fu was right—she truly was dying of envy.
“Move aside!”
“I won’t, unless you let me see what you’re holding!”
Lizhu’s heart, which had just begun to settle, leapt back up again.
Empress Tan was suspicious by nature; not only the contents of the letter but even its existence must be kept secret, or else this journey outside the palace would become all the more difficult.
What to do?
How could she divert Shen Fu’s attention?
Lizhu took a deep breath.
“What’s so great about studying at Lantai? Once I open my own residence and leave the palace, I’ll invite the Grand Preceptor to my Princess’s residence to teach me lessons. After all, Father dotes on me, not you—he’ll definitely agree.”
Shen Fu’s expression immediately changed.
Just like Lizhu, he too had a sore spot that could be poked in an instant.
“The Grand Preceptor is the Crown Prince’s tutor! How could he give lessons to you alone!”
“But you’re not the Crown Prince either. I have fiefs in two counties, what has Father given you?”
“You—you—you—just wait! Shen Lizhu! I’ll make you see my power one day!”
“One day? How will you be powerful in the future?”
“I’m Father’s only son! When he dies, I’ll be the Emperor of Nanyong!”
The boy’s childish yet arrogant voice echoed through the halls of Lantai.
Several clerks passing by with bamboo slips in their arms turned their heads at the sound, whispering among themselves.
From the inner chamber, the Grand Preceptor came hurrying out, his voice trembling and rising in pitch.
“Your Highness! You must not speak such reckless words!”
But this—this was exactly the reckless remark Lizhu had been waiting for.
She scolded sharply, “Shen Fu! How dare you curse Father’s death! You are too bold!”
Shen Fu also realized that he had said something wrong, but before he could make excuses, Lizhu—driven by sudden fierce resolve—gave him a hard shove!
The Grand Preceptor was too old; his mind couldn’t keep up with the moment. He could only watch helplessly as Lizhu pushed Shen Fu straight into the lotus pond beside Lantai.
Splash—!
“…Quick! Someone! The Crown Prince has fallen into the water!”
The trembling Grand Preceptor hurried forward, confirming that Shen Fu had indeed fallen in, and his vision went dizzy.
“Princess! What has come over you today! Y-you have never acted so rashly before…”
Before the palace guards could arrive, Lizhu quietly slipped the letter of recommendation into the Grand Preceptor’s hands.
“Please keep this safe for now, Grand Preceptor. You must ensure no one learns of its contents. I will personally come for it the day before my departure.”
She looked toward the boy flailing in the lotus pond and said calmly:
“In the past, I was too timid, which only let Shen Fu grow more insolent. Today, let this be a lesson for him—he swims well, Grand Preceptor, you needn’t worry.”
The Grand Preceptor grew anxious.
“Princess, I am worried for you! You pushed His Highness into the water—at best, they’ll say it was sibling mischief; at worst, it’s an attempt on a prince’s life! Have you thought how to explain this to the Empress?”
Shen Fu was Empress Tan’s only son, the sole hope for the Tan clan of Wanjun to continue their line of nobility.
What’s more, the Princess was soon to marry Tan Xun.
Doing this was tantamount to offending the entire Tan clan. There was no benefit to her, only trouble!
“Who says I can’t explain it?”
The little princess gave a cold laugh.
The Grand Preceptor was struck with uncertainty. Could it be the Princess truly had a clever way to settle this?
Before he could even ask, he saw her move—and again, another splash rang out by his ear!
“Grand Preceptor—!”
The hastily arriving guards caught the Grand Preceptor, whose vision had gone dark. The old man’s index finger trembled as he pointed toward the water:
“Quick… go save the Princess! The Princess doesn’t know how to swim!”
•—–٠✤٠—–•·
Ever since the age of fourteen, when Lizhu had been shot into the lotus pond by Shen Fu’s slingshot, she had never gone near the water again. Only now did she once more remember the terror and helplessness of drowning.
Water rushed into her mouth and nose instantly; she couldn’t make a sound, couldn’t touch the ground beneath her feet.
The water that entered her nasal cavity stabbed at her brain like knives. Her ears buzzed, her body sank heavy as lead. The instinct to survive drove her to struggle desperately—yet the harder she thrashed, the deeper she sank.
The autumn water was bone-chillingly cold.
When she threw herself in, the guards had been close by; Lizhu knew she would not die.
If Shen Fu alone had fallen in, she would certainly be held accountable. But if she fell in as well, it would be written off as nothing more than a quarrel between siblings.
Each punished equally, what could the Tan clan say then?
It was the best solution.
Merely a little humiliating.
But fortunately, in her life, the days of humiliation had far outnumbered the days of pride; to grow used to humiliation again was as easy as breathing.
•—–٠✤٠—–•·
The price Lizhu paid for that jump was ten days bedridden.
She burned with fever for two, coughed for five, and for the remaining three could not keep down any food. The anxious Emperor Mingzhao ordered the imperial physicians to take turns checking her pulse, tormenting her until she grew visibly thinner.
During her illness, Lizhu had many nightmares in succession.
She dreamed again of Shen Fu ascending the throne, decreeing that she be sent away for a political marriage.
At that time, Lizhu had tried to rally the court ministers, only to be politely refused; she had tried to ask her former husband, Tan Xun, to plead with the Grand Empress Dowager Tan on her behalf, but he avoided her altogether.
When she had nowhere left to turn, Lizhu heard certain whispers.
That the leader of the war faction in court, Pei Yinzhi, the Grand Coachman Pei, seemed to harbor feelings for her.
So, steeling herself, she sent a visiting card to the Pei residence. A house with which she had no prior connection and invited him to the Princess’s mansion for a banquet.
That night, the lamps in the Princess’s mansion were dim. Lizhu deliberately avoided looking closely at his face; as planned, she clumsily spilled the wine from her glass onto the man’s dark official robe.
The sound of strings and flutes stopped, the singing girls silently withdrew.
Lizhu’s hands trembled as she reached toward his belt; the unfamiliar scent of a man was within breath’s reach.
“Your Highness, it is late. This minister will return home to change his clothes.”
Pei Yinzhi suddenly caught her wrist. His voice was calm and gentle.
“Your Highness need not worry. As long as the soldiers at the Divine Maiden Pass still have blood hot in their veins, the fate of the nation will never be entrusted beneath a woman’s skirts.”
Lizhu lifted her head. That was the first time she truly looked at this young scholar-official from a humble family.
He had a straight, handsome nose and eyes that curved slightly with a smile—he was a strikingly handsome youth.
The next morning, at court, Pei Yinzhi—though a mere civil official—volunteered to go to the Divine Maiden Pass to repel the enemy.
Lizhu knew of his great victory in that battle, and also knew that the very first thing he did upon returning triumphant was to request an imperial marriage—to wed the Princess of Qinghe.
But in the dream she stumbled and staggered, chasing after him.
Don’t go!
His enemy was not the Beiyue army stationed at the border, and the country behind him was by no means his ally.
Even if he won this battle, he would leave behind an illness that in three years would take his life!
Someone would rather have Nanyong submit to a humiliating peace than see him die at the frontier, so they could keep their own wealth and splendor!
That person—
That person—!!
•—–٠✤٠—–•·
“Is the Princess having nightmares?”
Lizhu sprang awake.
The evening glow filtered into the bedchamber.
A phoenix hairpin, slanted in her black hair, sifted a few streaks of blood-colored sunset across her face, gilding the woman by the couch with a wash of molten gold.
Seeing her awake, Empress Tan picked up the medicinal bowl from the low table and leisurely stirred it.
“I heard the Princess previously wanted to tour her fiefs, but seeing your present condition, it would be better you stay in the palace and recuperate. Do not worry, your Father has already punished Fu’er with fifty slaps to the palm, venting your grievance thoroughly. If you insist on leaving now, it will only seem like you are still sulking, and that will make things difficult for me, will it not?”