Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Having made up her mind, Li Zhu wiped away her tears, sat down, and poured Emperor Mingzhao a cup of tea.

Unlike in her previous life, she did not argue with Emperor Mingzhao over matters of alchemy and elixirs. Instead, she only asked the palace attendants questions such as, "How has Father’s appetite been lately?" and "Has he been sleeping well at night?"

Emperor Mingzhao, who had not seen his daughter in such a pleasant mood for a long time, was deeply touched.

Seizing the opportunity, Li Zhu finally revealed her true purpose.

"...You wish to visit your fief to relax?"

Emperor Mingzhao pondered for a moment, a trace of hesitation in his expression.

"The Qinghe area is fairly stable, but you have never traveled far before. The journey is long, and even with guards and a retinue, I still worry—"

"Isn’t Cousin Yu Hui returning to Wan Commandery for his cousin's funeral?"

She remembered that Tan Xun’s cousin had passed away, and he had returned to his hometown for the funeral. He would not return to Luoyang until his wedding with Li Zhu.

Indeed, at sixteen, Li Zhu had not yet married Tan Xun.

The young princess tugged at Emperor Mingzhao’s sleeve, her bright eyes blinking as she said:

"To reach Qinghe, we must pass through Wan Commandery first. If you are truly worried, why not have the Tan clan send escorts and let Cousin Yu Hui accompany me on the journey? Wouldn’t that put your mind at ease?"

Emperor Mingzhao thought he had misheard.

"Lin'er, are you serious? You’re willing to let Tan Yuhui accompany you?"

"I’ve already agreed to the marriage, so why wouldn’t I be willing?" Li Zhu retorted.

Emperor Mingzhao looked at Li Zhu for a long while, ensuring there was no reluctance in her expression, before patting the back of her hand.

"Agreeing is one thing, but I fear that even though you’ve agreed to the marriage, you might still—"

His words trailed off, his tone tinged with sadness as his grip on her hand tightened slightly.

Li Zhu understood what he left unsaid.

When she was twelve or thirteen, Empress Qin often summoned her nephew from her mother's family to the palace.

On the surface, it was to serve as a study partner for Shen Fu, but Shen Fu was only four or five years old at the time. The real purpose was to create more opportunities for Li Zhu and Tan Xun to meet.

To the young Li Zhu, Tan Xun was undoubtedly a reliable older brother.

Shen Fu had been bullying and hostile toward Li Zhu since childhood.

At four, he smeared ink on Li Zhu’s favorite dress; at five, he smashed a bracelet that had belonged to the late empress; at six, he shot Li Zhu with a slingshot, knocking her into a lotus pond and nearly costing her life.

Emperor Mingzhao could punish Shen Fu, but he could not protect Li Zhu at all times.

It was Tan Xun who stepped in between them, and only someone of his status could make Shen Fu hold back.

Li Zhu had always been grateful to him.

So, when she later heard that Tan Xun wanted to marry into the imperial family, Li Zhu, still young and naive, did not resist much.

"Let it be him."

He was handsome, talented, never argued with her, and had nothing wrong with him.

As Empress Qin’s nephew and Prince Shen Fu’s cousin, choosing him would strengthen the bond between the Tan clan and Emperor Mingzhao, steady the court, and satisfy everyone.

Even when Emperor Mingzhao saw she wasn't enthusiastic for the marriage and repeatedly asked her, Li Zhu still told him:

She was willing to choose Tan Xun as her prince consort.

But this time, looking at Emperor Mingzhao’s hesitation, Li Zhu suddenly asked:

"...If I truly dislike Tan Xun and refuse to choose him as my prince consort, would you be in a hard place?"

The Boshan incense burner emitted a wisp of fragrant incense, and the hall fell silent for a moment.

"Yes," Emperor Mingzhao admitted honestly.

"When the court relocated south from the Yan capital to establish Luoyang as the new capital, the local influential families here posed significant resistance. The Tan clan contributed greatly to Nan Yong’s foothold in Luoyang. Tan Yuhui is the first son of the main family line. For him to seek the honor of marrying a princess is something I cannot refuse, both in reason and sentiment."

But then, turning his gaze to his daughter, who bore a strong resemblance to his deceased wife, he sighed and said:

"Yet the greatest happiness in life is to spend one’s life with a beloved. I no longer have such an opportunity myself—how could I bear to take yours away? That’s why I kept asking you if you were truly willing. If you really aren’t, I will figure something else out."

As a child, she couldn't help but be moved by these words.

—That is, if her father were not Emperor Mingzhao, a ruler whose every action affected the rise and fall of a nation.

Recalling her previous life's ending—her country destroyed, her family lost, forced to perish together with the enemy—Li Zhu seethed with anger and sorrow.

"If you could have found another way, you would have already said no to them and let me choose my own prince consort!"

Emperor Mingzhao rested his index finger against his temple and said noncommittally:

"Well..."

"If you truly want me to live well, you should work to rule well, make the country wealthy, and its people strong. Otherwise, if the country falls, what home can there be? If there is no home, even if I have a beloved, how could I find happiness fleeing as refugees with him?"

"All you do all day is worship your gods and practice your Daoism. If one day, Northern Yue’s cavalry crosses the Goddess Gate, will you turn beans into soldiers? Or call upon gods and generals?"

"Your Highness."

The attendant of the Jade Hall suddenly dropped to his knees and said:

"You were finally having a peaceful conversation—how did it turn into an argument again? If you are angry, Your Highness, take it out on us servants. His Majesty has just gotten over a cold a few days ago. Please have mercy on him."

Emperor Mingzhao could not bring himself to say anything harsh to Li Zhu.

He merely sighed lightly, motioned for attendant Luo Feng to rise, as if acknowledging his concern.

Seeing this, Li Zhu grew furious and stood up abruptly.

Now she was the villain!

These eunuchs and attendants usually groveled and flattered to extremes, eager to serve their masters like dogs or cats. Li Zhu was almost afraid that if she kicked them, they would lick the soles of her shoes.

But when people debase themselves to such an extent, they inevitably seek compensation in other ways.

Emperor Mingzhao’s pursuit of immortality and Daoism involved countless interests.

In her previous life, when Li Zhu tried to stop Emperor Mingzhao from using human blood to refine elixirs, it wasn’t long before a Taoist priest presented an elusive celestial portent to Emperor Mingzhao, suggesting that Princess Qinghe should relocate to a detached palace for a year to avoid misfortune.

Empress Qin immediately assured Emperor Mingzhao repeatedly that she would arrange for Princess Qinghe to be well taken care of.

Thus, Li Zhu was confined to the detached palace for a year, unable to even send a letter out.

The reason was simple: the official in charge of the princess's household affairs was a protégé of the Tan clan of Wan Commandery.

In contrast, although Li Zhu held the title of princess, her mother, Mi Jiang—the deceased empress—was merely a common laundress.

Li Zhu had no maternal clan to rely on, only the favor of an emperor whose power was waning.

Even with a second chance, the cards in her hand remained unchanged.

Learning from past mistakes, this time, instead of speaking her mind when cornered, Li Zhu bit back her words and resentfully sat back down.

"...Since I cannot always be by Your Majesty’s side, I must rely on Steward Luo’s diligent care. How could I dare to reprimand him? Please rise quickly."

"You flatter this humble servant, Princess."

Luo Feng stood up.

As the chief eunuch of the palace, he appeared to be in his early forties, with sparse, faint eyebrows and slender Phoenix eyes that extended to his temples. Were it not for his strained vocal tone, he might have resembled an elegant scholar gentleman.

With a warm smile, he said, "Since the princess had her hair-pinning ceremony, her marriage has been His Majesty’s top priority. Today, I presume to ask on His Majesty’s behalf—does the princess consider the legitimate eldest son of the Tan clan a suitable match?"

Silence fell over the hall for a moment before Li Zhu’s reply echoed.

"Everyone says Tan Xun possesses the orchid's virtue and jade's purity—a child prodigy, the dream of many young women in Luoyang. Rest assured, Father, Your Majesty, I am perfectly willing."

Li Zhu gritted her teeth, forcing a smile.

Emperor Mingzhao was overjoyed and walked cheerfully to an orchid by the window.

"Excellent, truly excellent. In fact, I too believe that throughout Nan Yong, only this orchid cultivated by a prestigious family is worthy of my precious daughter."

Following Emperor Mingzhao’s gaze, a white orchid with twelve calyxes stood with lush green leaves and rich fragrance, like a graceful and unrestrained gentleman.

But Li Zhu remained silent.

The memory of her final meeting with Tan Xun before her death left her unsettled.

In truth, after their annulment in her previous life, Li Zhu had quickly found peace with it.

No matter how exceptional Tan Xun was, he would always be the legitimate eldest son of the Tan clan, never truly aligned with her.

Marrying the princess had been his clan's mandate, and it was only natural that his affections lay elsewhere.

Out of regard for their childhood connection, Li Zhu did not cling to him. He had someone else he loved, so an annulment was fitting.

But Li Zhu could not understand why Tan Xun held such hostility toward Pei Yinzhi.

After she married Pei Yinzhi, he once spoke of Tan Xun smilingly, saying:

—Though he was inconstant in his affections, he had the courage to admit it to you, Princess. And if he hadn’t let you go, how would I have had the chance to marry you?

Pei Yinzhi never spoke ill of him behind his back.

Yet Tan Xun blamed even their annulment on Pei Yinzhi.

What orchid and jade?

Despicable!

-

Exiting the Weiyang Palace, Xuan Ying, the female official who had long waited below the long steps, hurried forward.

"Your Highness and His Majesty… did you argue today?"

Li Zhu shook her head.

"Don’t worry, Xuan Ying. I didn’t mention the alchemical formulas or practices. I only told Father I wanted to travel to Qinghe Commandery to relax, and he agreed."

She then recounted the conversation in the Weiyang Palace.

After hearing it, Xuan Ying was surprised but soon smiled in relief.

"...That’s good, my dear princess. Even ministers drawing thousand- or hundred-dan salaries fear losing their official seal and dare not voice remonstrations before His Majesty. Why should you take the lead?"

"Not necessarily," Li Zhu said, lifting her dark green palace robes as she descended the steps. "Ministers risk losing their heads for speaking out of turn, but Father would never execute me. So, it’s most fitting for me to say these things... But don’t worry, Xuan Ying, this time I truly said nothing. Really."

Hearing this, Xuan Ying felt both relieved and heartbroken.

She knew Li Zhu’s advice was correct.

Due to the precedent set by the founding empress, the Yong Dynasty had seen many influential empresses and princesses.

But Li Zhu was not one of them.

She had no powerful maternal clan to rely on, no full brothers to support her.

Even the emperor depended on the established clans to maintain stability in Luoyang. As a princess whose mother had died young, if she were to lose the emperor’s favor, who would protect her?

Xuan Ying supported Li Zhu as they walked toward the litter, asking again:

"Why does Your Highness suddenly wish to visit Qinghe? Having never left Luoyang, you may not know, but the outside world has become increasingly troubled in recent years."

"Precisely because it’s unstable, we must seek a way to bring peace."

Li Zhu’s clear black-and-white eyes were full of determination.

Xuan Ying gazed at her for a moment, then shook her head with a light laugh.

"Your Highness, your words confuse me. If even the hundreds of ministers and nobles cannot find a solution, how will you seek a way to peace?"

"What the officials and I cannot achieve, someone else can."

In her previous life, after Pei Yinzhi’s death, Li Zhu often lay awake through lonely nights, unable to stop thinking:

If only the court had offered less resistance to him.

If only the Nan Yong could have been united, free from internal strife and self-consumption.

Pei Yinzhi might not have met an early death, and Nan Yong might not have been defeated by North Yue—perhaps everything would have been different.

...I wonder what Pei Yinzhi is doing at this moment.

At twenty, it was the age for pursuing studies and entering officialdom.

Lost in thought for a moment, Li Zhu inexplicably found herself recalling the scars on Pei Yinzhi’s body.

Aside from the fresh wounds from battles against the North Yue army and the Wuhuan tribesmen, his back muscles bore many crisscrossed old scars.

Some were shallow, merely cutting the surface of the skin, while others were so deep they seemed to have severed tendons, crudely sewn up, adding rugged furrows to his already robust, mountain-like physique.

Pei Yinzhi had a physique nothing like a scholar’s.

"When I was young and studying with a teacher, the mountains were high and the roads long—it was inevitable to encounter fierce bandits."

Whenever Li Zhu traced these scars, he would always take her fingers and kiss them gently, his dark eyes intense and unreadable.

"Do they bother you, Your Highness?"

Li Zhu had shaken her head at the time.

When the young nobles from powerful families came of age, their families would prepare carts of treasures and supplies, along with dozens or even hundreds of armed guards, to escort them in grand processions to study the classics under renowned Confucian Masters.

Yet, after entering officialdom, these individuals only knew how to form factions for their own gain, placing their family interests above the lives of the people and the survival of the nation.

But for a talented pillar of the state like Pei Yinzhi, even his pursuit of education had been a battle for survival.

Her heart ached for him.

Just then, the palanquin passed by the Orchid Terrace Archives.

Li Zhu’s eyes lit up.

She ordered the palanquin to be set down and summoned the guard outside the Stone Chamber.

"Is the Grand Tutor here today?"

The guard respectfully replied that he was.

Li Zhu immediately broke into a smile.

Stepping down from the palanquin, she turned to Xuan Ying and said:

"Before heading to Qinghe, I must ask the Grand Tutor for something. Wait here for me—I’ll be back soon."

The young lady-in-waiting thought for a moment and tentatively asked:

"Your Highness, is this for... the person you mentioned earlier?"

"Yes!"

Under the sunlight, Li Zhu gazed at the plaque on the Orchid Terrace, her eyes shining brightly.

At the time, the authority to interpret the classics lay in the hands of the Confucian Masters. To excel in the examinations and enter officialdom, one had to study under the noble clans that had "specialized in a single classic for generations."

Of course, in her previous life, even without studying under a Confucian Master, Pei Yinzhi had still reached the top ministerial ranks.

Li Zhu did not know how he had managed it.

But she remembered that, in her previous life, rivals at court had often criticized Pei Yinzhi’s knowledge, claiming he was ignorant and unqualified, unfit for his position.

In the study of the princess’s residence, whenever Li Zhu practiced her brushwork, Pei Yinzhi had more than once praised her:

—"Your writing matches your elegance—truly, Your Highness’s calligraphy is second to none."

—"Your Highness is truly willing to guide my hand yourself?"

—"That’s wonderful. With a teacher like Your Highness, my brushwork will surely penetrate the wood and pierce through the paper."

Although, in the end, it seemed his brushwork did not penetrate the wood, nor did it pierce through the paper...

Still, Li Zhu had often thought that if he had not been from a common background, if he had had a letter of recommendation, he would have been a man of great learning.

He would have been no worse than anyone else, and he would not have had to face such scorn.

With this thought, Li Zhu picked up her pace, burning with resolve.