Chapter 86: The Grand Finale

Chapter 86 Conclusion

In the twenty-seventh year of Qingzhen's reign, on the nineteenth day of the second month, Grand Princess Anning publicly submitted a petition to Emperor Qingzhen during the morning court session.

Her request was to exempt Zhao Shi from her five-year imprisonment and grant her freedom.

The court officials reacted vehemently, citing the relevant laws of Great Zhao in opposition. Some argued that the husband is the wife’s moral superior, and since Zhao Shi had attempted to poison her husband—though unsuccessful—her malicious intent defied societal norms and should not be pardoned lightly. They insisted she must serve as a warning to all women.

Others contended that while Zhao Shi’s actions might be understandable, Liu Xi had already been punished, and the poisoning case should not be conflated with his crimes. They maintained that Zhao Shi’s five-year sentence, in accordance with Great Zhao’s laws, was appropriate.

Still others went further, asserting that Grand Princess Anning, as a woman, had no place interfering in state affairs. Some even insinuated with veiled sarcasm that the princess, known for her licentious behavior, was defending Zhao Shi because they were cut from the same cloth. They revived the initial suspicion that Zhao Shi had conspired with a lover to poison her husband—though unproven, it was not impossible. Thus, they argued, Zhao Shi, as an unchaste woman, deserved her punishment.

The allegations of Zhao Shi’s infidelity could not be proven. In the previous life, it was only after her death, when her cousin mysteriously died shortly thereafter, that many suspected him to be the adulterer. But in this life, both were still alive, and no one knew who the so-called "lover" might be.

Grand Princess Anning listened silently and, in the end, gave a cold laugh. Then, to everyone’s shock, she abruptly pulled down the clothing on her right shoulder, revealing a brand—the stark character for “slave.”

The courtiers averted their eyes, crying out in outrage at her shamelessness and impropriety. Yet Grand Princess Anning merely straightened her clothes and smiled, lifting her chin as she swept her gaze over the men who preached morality and virtue.

She asked them if they knew what this mark meant. It had been branded onto her skin on the second day after she was forced into a political marriage and arrived in Handa, where she was stripped naked before a crowd. They looked down on women, yet it was she—a woman—who, with her beauty and body, had secured peace between Handa and Great Zhao. And what had these men been doing at the time? Living in comfort on Great Zhao’s tranquil lands. But that peace had been secured by the sacrifice of the very woman they now scorned as shameless and degraded.

“You men hold yourselves high and mighty,” she said, “but why did you not choose to take up arms and fight the foreign invaders yourselves? Instead, you stand in this court, trading barbs with a woman who single-handedly secured Great Zhao’s peace.”

Her words struck like thunder, and for a moment, the entire hall fell silent.

After a long pause, Emperor Qingzhen finally granted Grand Princess Anning’s request. However, since Zhao Shi’s crime was an established fact, it could not be overturned. Her sentence was merely reduced from five years to one.

Pei Yun, of course, wasn’t present in court to witness this. She learned of it later through the Crown Prince’s retelling. She could easily imagine Grand Princess Anning holding her own against the officials—years of pent-up fury and injustice finally unleashed, each word like a resounding slap across Emperor Qingzhen’s face.

The night before her appearance in court, the princess had visited Emperor Qingzhen’s study. The siblings had already reached a tacit agreement regarding Zhao Shi’s case; the next day’s spectacle was merely a show for the court.

Pei Yun had never expected Zhao Shi to be released so easily. Though she believed Zhao Shi innocent, she also understood that the law must be upheld. If, in the future, a wicked wife attempted to poison her husband, she must still face due punishment.

Her reason for having the princess advocate for Zhao Shi’s release in court was to make the eventual reduction to one year’s imprisonment easier for the officials to accept.

When Zhao Shi’s family heard the news from her cousin, they traveled all the way from Shu to see her. Through the prison bars, both sides wept bitterly. Zhao Shi’s father was filled with regret, realizing now that the Liu family had chosen their distant Zhao clan precisely because they believed she would have no means of seeking help even if she uncovered the truth.

They confronted the Liu residence, demanding not money or valuables, but a divorce decree for their daughter. They vowed to take Zhao Shi home once her sentence was served.

They knew full well that the Zhao family was powerless against the Lius. As Zhao’s father clutched the divorce decree and left, he glared at the imposing gates of the Liu estate and swore through gritted teeth that heaven was watching—the Lius, with their endless wickedness, would one day face retribution.

And as he predicted, the Lius’ reckoning came swiftly.

At the end of the second month, Prince Yu met the Crown Prince in a reserved room at the Longxing Tavern in the capital.

He handed a letter to the Crown Prince.

After reading just a few lines, Li Zhangye recognized its significance. He looked up and asked, “Second Brother, how did you come by this?”

Prince Yu hesitated before replying, “Mei’er took in Chen Shi’s two daughters. This was found in the eldest daughter, Liu Yu’s, pouch. It must have been left by Chen Shi.”

Li Zhangye had heard from Pei Yun that Chen Shi’s suicide note had been discovered in her younger daughter’s pouch. It seemed that before her death, she had hidden the letter and the note separately in the pouches her daughters carried close to their bodies. Knowing they were not Liu Xi’s biological children and that he neither loved nor paid them any attention, she must have been certain he would never find them.

“Second Brother, are you certain you wish to give this to me?” Li Zhangye asked.

In truth, he had already uncovered some clues in the Liu family case. The only thing missing was a key piece of evidence—and now, just as he was agonizing over it, the evidence had landed in his hands.

But Prince Yu’s consort, Liu Mei’er, was also a member of the Liu family. Though, as a married woman, she would not be implicated, losing her maternal family’s support would undoubtedly make life difficult for her in the capital.

"Actually, it was Meier who discovered this. She originally intended to present it to you herself, Third Imperial Brother, but after much deliberation, I felt it more appropriate for me to deliver it to you." Prince Yu gave a bitter smile. "Everyone says I, Prince Yu, am useless and cowardly, henpecked by my wife. I’ve certainly thought of resisting her, but in the end, considering Liu Meier’s lifelong pride, I couldn’t bring myself to break her spirit."

Having said this, Prince Yu suddenly stood and bowed to the Crown Prince. "Today, I present this to Your Highness. I beg you, in light of the fact that a woman of the Liu family willingly offered this evidence, to show mercy to the other innocent members of the Liu household as much as possible..."

Li Zhangye looked at Prince Yu before him, his heart filled with mixed emotions. He realized that this elder brother, long scorned by others, was not truly worthless after all.

At the very least, he had fulfilled his duty toward his wife. Though their marriage had been tumultuous over the years, it didn’t mean they lacked genuine affection.

Half a month later, the Liu family’s collusion with bandits was laid bare by a single letter.

The letter was written by a bandit leader who had been on the run for years. Its contents revealed that, under Liu Xi’s direction seven or eight years prior, he had ordered his men to massacre dozens of innocent villagers. This was staged as a fake bandit crackdown, allowing Liu Xi to claim merit and rise swiftly from a minor county magistrate to high-ranking nobility, eventually securing a legitimate return to the capital.

The bandit leader, in league with Liu Xi, had coldly sacrificed nearly all his men. Afterward, he fled with the vast wealth Liu Xi provided, living lavishly. However, the bandit leader was a gambler, and within a few years, he piled up crushing debts. Once again plunged into desperation, he remembered Liu Xi and sent a letter threatening to expose their past crimes unless Liu Xi paid him off.

With damning evidence in hand, the Liu family still attempted to defend themselves. However, the Dali Temple tracked down the fugitive bandit leader, who had lived like a fugitive, scurrying in the shadows after narrowly escaping assassination by Liu Xi’s men after demanding payment. Having lived like a rat in hiding for years, he now testified in court, along with surviving bandits from the massacre, exposing Liu Xi’s schemes. This so-called 'paragon of justice' who had "saved the people" was nothing more than a fraud—his entire career built on lies and corpses.

Liu Xi’s rise to power had been built on inhuman cruelty, trampling over the corpses of countless innocents.

But it wasn’t just Liu Xi. The Dali Temple’s investigation uncovered numerous crimes committed by other Liu family officials—embezzlement, bribery, tyranny over commoners, abduction of women...

The Liu family’s foundation crumbled overnight. Those who had suffered under their tyranny but had been powerless to resist now deluged the Dali Temple with grievances.

The grievances piled high on the desks, their thin sheets piling up like snow—yet collectively, they became the avalanche that crushed the Liu family.

By the end of March, under the warmth of spring, news of the Liu family’s confiscation reached Chenghua Palace just as Pei Yun had finished putting Ran Jieer to sleep and was organizing stationery for Chen’er.

She heard that the Liu matriarch had planned for Liu Xi to recover from his injuries and return to the family, only for disaster to strike before he could.

Liu Xi was imprisoned for colluding with bandits. Defiant to the last, he refused to confess despite severe torture. His unhealed wounds worsened under the beatings, and he died in his cell—his body horrifically brutalized, barely an inch of skin left unbroken, as though someone had deliberately vented their fury upon him.

After Liu Xi’s death, Pei Yun paid little attention to the Liu family’s affairs. Even when Shu Mo mentioned updates, she listened distractedly before returning to her own tasks.

Chen’er was nearly four—old enough to start his schooling at Gengzhuo Academy. Yet he seemed apprehensive, for it was an entirely unfamiliar place.

To ease his fears, the Crown Prince took him by the hand during his free time and accompanied him to the academy. Jin Er even lifted his younger brother onto his lap, letting him listen to the tutor’s lessons alongside him.

There were children Chen’er’s age in the classroom, and within half a day, he had settled in comfortably, playing and laughing with them.

When classes ended at dusk, the Crown Prince came to fetch both boys. Chen’er bid his new friends reluctant goodbyes, then badgered Pei Yun as soon as he got back, insisting he wanted to attend Gengzhuo Academy the very next day.

That was impossible, but the Crown Prince promised Chen’er he would begin his studies there by the following month at the latest.

Now, Chen’er counted down the days impatiently.

As Pei Yun checked the stationery for any missing items, Lian Er rushed in. "Your Highness, His Highness has sent word—Grand Princess Anning departs for Jiangnan today. If you wish to see her off, you must hurry to Wuli Pavilion outside the city. There’s still time!"

So sudden!

Pei Yun didn’t even have time to change her attire before ordering Lian Er to prepare a carriage. She rushed out of the palace toward the city gates.

Less than an hour later, she arrived at Wuli Pavilion to find Grand Princess Anning seated leisurely inside, enjoying tea and snacks while admiring the spring scenery.

Pei Yun approached and curtsied. At the princess’s gesture, she took a seat and asked, "Third Aunt, you just got back to the capital—why leave so soon? Won’t you stay a while longer?"

The princess shook her head. "No. There’s no one left in this city worth lingering for. What’s the point of staying?"

Pei Yun hesitated before asking, "Will you not visit Her Majesty the Empress Dowager?"

In the month and a half since her return, Grand Princess Anning had not resided in the palace but had instead taken up lodging in a private residence in the capital.

The Empress Dowager was overjoyed to learn of Grand Princess Anning's return. As her only daughter, the Empress Dowager had longed for the princess to visit the Palace of Benevolence and Filial Piety voluntarily after years of separation, but it never happened. She had to send someone to invite her, yet the princess still refused. Later, the Empress Dowager even left the palace herself just to catch a glimpse of her daughter, but to no avail.

People said the princess was heartless, unwilling to acknowledge even her own mother.

"What would seeing her accomplish?" The princess scoffed. "Back then, she urged me to marry into Handa for peace. Everyone praised the Empress Dowager's concern for the people, sacrificing her own daughter for their welfare. But to me, she was just a cruel mother. I can't forgive her, nor do I want to watch her weep in front of me. It's better if we never meet again—seeing her would only deepen my resentment..."

Pei Yun said nothing more.

No one truly knew what the princess had endured during those years in Handa, or how she had survived such humiliation. Thus, no one had the right to forgive on her behalf.

"I didn’t want to see His Majesty either, but Ye’er (the Crown Prince) pleaded with me, so I had no choice." The princess turned to Pei Yun. "Do you know why?"

Pei Yun shook her head.

"That day, when you and Tang Er came to me with the letter from the late Empress, seeing the two of you—sisters-in-law—I suddenly remembered how close I was with the late Empress before my marriage."

The princess sighed deeply, as if lost in a fond memory, a faint smile touching her eyes. "Back then, neither the Empress Dowager nor His Majesty was favored, and I wasn’t a beloved princess in the palace either. I lived freely. Before the late Empress accompanied His Majesty to the northwest frontier, I often visited her. We were as close as sisters. Later... later, when His Majesty ascended the throne, everyone insisted I marry for peace—except the late Empress. She even defied His Majesty to oppose sending me to Handa. But her resistance was futile. Still, I’ve always remembered her kindness, which is why I endured my disgust and returned here after Ye’er sought my help."

Noticing Pei Yun’s rapt attention, the princess suddenly fixed her gaze on her and said, "Actually, you remind me of the late Empress..."

Pei Yun stiffened. She couldn’t possibly accept such a comparison and quickly replied, "Her Majesty was a revered empress, praised by all. How could I ever compare?"

"But you both share a rare compassion for women," the princess gazed at the sky. "The late Empress wasn’t always like that. But after her heart grew cold toward His Majesty, she became only an empress, not a wife."

The princess turned her eyes back to Pei Yun. "Ye’er is fortunate to have met you. Unlike Xu’er, his fate was harsh. After his birth, His Majesty and the late Empress grew increasingly distant. He was raised by Xu’er and barely knew a parent’s love. Then, the only brother who cherished him was gone, and the late Empress passed away..."

Here, the princess paused for a long moment. She hadn’t returned for the late Empress’s funeral, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t grieving. Perhaps it was precisely because of that grief that she lacked the courage to face it.

"But this time, when I returned, I noticed he smiles much more now and isn’t as aloof as before." The princess patted Pei Yun’s hand. "After I leave, I doubt I’ll ever return. Could you promise me to take good care of Ye’er?"

Though she hadn’t known the princess long, Pei Yun felt an inexplicable ache in her heart at these words.

Standing outside Wuli Pavilion, she watched the princess’s carriage disappear into the distance, gripped by a sudden loneliness—as if what was fading away wasn’t just the carriage, but decades of memories the princess had left behind in the capital.

Pei Yun thought of the late Empress mentioned in the princess’s words—a woman she had never truly known. She rarely dwelled on her mother-in-law, who had passed away two years after her marriage to the Crown Prince. During those two years, most of their interactions had been stiff, Pei Yun keeping her eyes downcast, too timid to speak.

Now, she recalled that the late Empress had once told her, "Speak up—you’re the Crown Princess!" But at the time, her insecurity had misread that kindness as criticism.

By the time Pei Yun returned to the palace, twilight had deepened. Passing through the lengthy palace gate under dusk’s glow, she spotted a stately figure standing outside, speaking to someone.

Noticing her approach, he turned, lips pressed into a faint smile as he looked at her.

Pei Yun approached, and Du Hangzhou bowed. "Your servant takes his leave," he said, cupping his hands to depart.

Her gaze flickered, catching sight of something swaying at his waist—a sachet. The embroidery was shockingly crude.

She had never seen such poor needlework. The last time she’d seen someone bungle mandarin ducks into quails was in her past life—and it seemed to be the same person’s handiwork.

Pei Yun studied Du Hangzhou intently before calling out, "Lord Du, you’re not yet married, are you? But do you already have someone you hold dear?"

Du Hangzhou froze, then looked uneasy. After a moment, he steadied himself and replied, "Yes, this humble official has someone he holds dear."

"No wonder." Pei Yun glanced at his waist. "I suppose this sachet was embroidered by that person? It’s... distinctive."

Du Hangzhou gave an awkward laugh but cradled the sachet protectively in his hand.

Pei Yun never would have guessed that her sister’s love from her past life had been closer than she realized. This devoted Lord Du of her previous life had honored her sister’s spirit tablet—and that sprig of crape myrtle must have symbolized her sister, Pei Wei.

In their past life, Du Hangzhou implemented sweeping reforms under the crown prince's orders, alienating countless nobles. Likely realizing he couldn't offer Pei Wei stability or happiness, he chose her marriage into the Marquis of Jian De's household. Did he regret this decision upon hearing of Pei Wei's death?

"Then I hope Lord Du soon gets his wish and weds his beloved." Knowing Du Hangzhou's character, Pei Yun had no objections to this match, though she wondered when her sister would confess to their family.

Hearing this, Du Hangzhou seemed to gain approval, his face lighting up with joy. After saying, "Thank you, Your Highness," he departed happily.

Pei Yun watched his retreating figure before turning to see the crown prince’s cool, heavy gaze. Just as she grew puzzled, she heard him murmur:

"I can't stand hearing 'sachet.'"

Pei Yun suddenly recalled the green bamboo sachet from years ago—she hadn’t expected him to remember it so clearly.

She chuckled softly. Back then, she had evaded and refused to admit it, but now she stated bluntly: "You're so petty, Your Highness. Even if that sachet wasn't originally meant for you, so what?"

"Will you still embroider one for me in the future?"

Pei Yun looked into his deep, dark eyes, where a quiet hope flickered. Her smile faded slightly as she understood it wasn't the sachet he truly wanted, but...

Yet she didn't know herself.

Initially, she hadn't intended to give anything at all, but something seemed to be loosening beyond her control.

After a moment, she smiled. "Perhaps..."

Li Zhangye froze for a moment before quietly taking Pei Yun's hand and saying gently, "No matter. I’ll wait however long it takes."

The two walked side by side toward the Eastern Palace. Midway, they encountered a eunuch hurrying along the path, who immediately stopped and bowed upon seeing the crown prince and princess.

"Where are you headed?" Li Zhangye recognized him as one of Emperor Qingzhen's attendants.

"Your Highness," the eunuch reported, "Imperial Concubine Meng has just given birth to a young prince. The Emperor is delighted and has ordered lavish rewards across the palace. This humble servant is on my way to the Imperial Household Department to deliver the decree."

Li Zhangye nodded and dismissed the eunuch without further questions.

Observing the crown prince's expression, Pei Yun couldn't help but whisper, "The Emperor seems deeply fond of Imperial Concubine Meng. He will surely dote on this child in the future. Your Highness... aren’t you even slightly wary of him?"

Li Zhangye glanced at her with a smile, his expression unchanged though his eyes grew colder. "He’s no threat to me. Moreover, for Eldest Brother’s dying wish... I would never yield the throne to another."

This was the first time Pei Yun had seen the crown prince's ambition for the throne, yet his desire for this supreme power didn't seem to be for himself.

"What was the Eldest Prince like?" Pei Yun asked curiously.

Li Zhangye was silent for a moment before his gaze softened further. "Eldest Brother... was kind and compassionate, with a heart for all under heaven. Had he lived, he’d have been far better suited to be crown prince than I."

Pei Yun felt the crown prince’s reverence for his brother. She squeezed his hand before rising on tiptoe to whisper in his ear: "Your Highness is no less worthy. And you *will* become Emperor."

Li Zhangye studied her smiling face, recognizing this not as her hope but as her certainty.

Frowning, he pressed his lips into a thin line. "Ruo Ruo, was all that really just a dream?"

Could any dream last so long and remain so vivid? Like she’d truly lived a whole life in it.

Pei Yun knew what he was thinking.

"It was a dream!" She met his gaze firmly, as if telling him—and herself—"Since it was a dream, let it go after waking. If we lose ourselves in dreams, how can we face reality?"

"Your Highness," Pei Yun said intently, word by word, "We have our whole lives ahead..."

Li Zhangye froze for a moment, but soon his lips curved slightly as he gazed toward Chenghua Palace in the distance, hearing the children’s laughter inside.

Yes, she was right.

Their days were still long...

The two walked side by side through the moon gate. The wet nurse was holding Ran Jieer in the courtyard for some fresh air, while Chen'er, his little face smudged with ink, looking like a tabby cat, sat at the stone table gripping a brush, his brows knitted in frustration. Meanwhile, Jin Er stood beside him, encouraging him to recognize and write more characters.

Hearing them approach, Chen'er turned his head, his lips instantly quivering, on the verge of tears. He jumped off the stone stool and ran toward Pei Yun.

"Mother, reading is hard. Chen'er doesn’t want to go to school anymore..."

Pei Yun swept Chen'er into her arms, while Li Zhangye stepped forward to take Ran Jieer from the wet nurse.

Jin Er also rose and walked over. He was already taller than children his age, and Pei Yun couldn’t help but feel that in less than two years, Jin Er might even surpass her in height.

Laughing as she soothed Chen'er, Pei Yun entered the main hall with the Crown Prince Jin Er for dinner.

In the sky, the deepening dusk swallowed the last of the twilight. Inside the hall, palace lanterns flickered to life one by one, their golden light pushing back the darkness. The quiet rhythm of their days carried on...

(The End)

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