readytorunbook Chapter 521
Chapter 521
Blood seeped from his palms through the blood-stained yellow silk, spreading irregular cloud-like patterns on the bright yellow surface, like a poignant red plum blossom quietly blooming on the silk of time. The bloodstains had not yet completely congealed, their edges still gleaming with a damp sheen, as if telling the story of the fierce battle that had just taken place. "Your Highness, this is the late Emperor's edict." A metallic taste rose in his throat, each word like a thorny bramble piercing his throat, hoarse from the ravages of war, each word carrying the weight of a thousand pounds, pressing heavily on the hearts of everyone present.
The Regent's fingertip hovered three inches above the edict, the jade thumb ring gleaming coldly in the dying embers, mirroring his unpredictable thoughts. Dongfang Wan'er, hiding behind the folding screen, gripped her sleeve so tightly her nails almost dug into her palms. She saw the candle wax on the gilded candlestick suddenly fall, leaving a tiny dent on the table, just like the fleeting glint of tears in the Regent's eyes. That glint, like a shooting star streaking across the night sky, stirred ripples in her heart, causing her to involuntarily hold her breath.
The night watchman's clapper startled the crows perched on the eaves. "Thump—thump—thump," three muffled sounds shattered the night's silence, causing the incense in the censer to sway. Dongfang Wan'er, counting the drops in the water clock, realized with a start that the clapper had already sounded at three-quarters of the hour of Mao (5:45 AM). The night outside the window was thick and impenetrable, like silk soaked in ink. A few cold stars slanted across the eaves of Weiyang Palace, like countless eyes peering at the world, coldly observing this breathtaking power struggle, as if witnessing the changing of an era.
The moment the Regent unfurled the edict, the wind chimes in the corner of the palace suddenly tinkled, startling a flock of crows. Dongfang Wan'er saw his knuckles turn white from the force of his grip, and the golden dragon pattern along the edge of the edict trembled slightly in the morning light, like a giant dragon about to take flight, or a dynasty tottering in a storm. The breaths of the crowd rose and fell, as soft and fragmented as silkworms nibbling on mulberry leaves, yet filled with tension and anticipation. Some gripped the jade pendants at their waists, some stroked the hidden patterns on their cuffs, and some had wandering eyes, lost in thought.
She reached for the gilded sachet in her bosom, touching the edge of the half-finished tiger tally hidden in the lining. The bloodstains splattered on her skirt when the late emperor coughed up blood three days ago in the plum grove of the Imperial Garden suddenly burned in her memory. Back then, he had said, "Keep an eye on the Regent," his tone carrying a desolation deeper than the twilight, as if he had already foreseen today's situation. Dongfang Wan'er looked up at the gilded pillars of the palace. Several gilded scales on the coiled dragons had peeled away, revealing the dark red lacquer beneath, much like the bloodshot eyes of those in the hall, filled with a chilling tension.
"Proclaim the decree." The Regent's voice suddenly became hoarse, startling the dust that had accumulated on the beams and fell onto the edict. Dongfang Wan'er noticed him repeatedly rubbing his thumb against the vermilion seal sealing the edict. The cinnabar was dazzlingly red, much like the vermilion dot on the foreheads of the concubines in the harem—beautiful yet dangerous. Suddenly, the sound of warhorses trampling through the thin ice came from outside the hall, rolling in from the direction of Xuanwu Gate. Startled, the icicles under the eaves broke, crashing onto the white marble steps with a "crack," shattering into countless fragments, much like the impending collapse of this dynasty.
She looked down at her shoes, embroidered with twin lotus blossoms. The bloodstains on the toes had congealed into a dark brown, from when she had prepared the late emperor's remains the previous night. She had seen the candlesticks before the imperial bed askew, the candle wax pooling on the yellow pear wood like a winding river, much like the tangled web of power struggles in the court—intricate and difficult to unravel. Now, these shoes were grinding over the candle wax, each step carrying a sticky resistance, as if she were struggling through this complex political landscape.
As the edict read, "The throne is passed to the Regent," the bronze bell in the east wing suddenly rang out, its resounding hum numbing everyone's ears. Dongfang Wan'er saw the tassel on General Li's sword tremble violently. It was the leopard-tail sword bestowed by the late emperor, its tassel embroidered with the words "Loyalty and Bravery" in gold thread, now gleaming coldly in the shadows, as if mocking the loyalty and betrayal of this world. Finally, a crack appeared in the sky outside the hall, a faint golden-red sliver of light filtering in, landing on the Regent's hand holding the edict. His hand trembled violently, the words on the edict flickering in the morning light, like the fate of this dynasty, uncertain and uncertain.
She pulled out the silver hairpin her mother had given her before her death, hidden in her sleeve. The filigree butterfly wings on the hairpin's head were slightly open, concealing half a secret edict—the secret of the Empress's deposition case twenty years ago. At this moment, the butterfly wings brushed against the thin calluses on her palm, marks from years of copying scriptures, yet also hiding an unknown secret. The night watchman's clapper sounded again, this time at the exact hour of Mao (5-7 AM), startling several more icicles from under the eaves, which shattered on the steps with a crisp sound, like the collapse of something within her heart.
The Regent suddenly turned around, the edict unfurling in the wind like a fluttering banner. The bright yellow background made his face appear golden, yet it couldn't conceal the turbulent undercurrent in his eyes. Dongfang Wan'er saw a flicker of surprise and suspicion in his gaze as he looked at her, and quickly lowered her eyelids. Her fingertips, however, secretly hooked onto a hidden pocket beneath her skirt, where the half-jade pendant she had found in the Imperial Study the previous night was engraved with the character "Ning," the current Crown Prince's nickname.
The golden-red hue outside the palace gradually thickened, like blood that couldn't be dissolved. Dongfang Wan'er heard her own heart pounding in her ears, and suddenly recalled the shadow puppet shows she had seen in her childhood—those leather figures adorned with gold threads tumbling behind the screen, seemingly glamorous, but in reality, nothing more than puppets manipulated by others. Weren't the people in the palace at this moment the same? In this power struggle within the imperial court, everyone had their own role, and everyone was carefully performing for survival.
As the first rays of dawn climbed onto the roof ornaments of the palace, Dongfang Wan'er finally caught a whiff of camphor hidden beneath the stench of blood. It was the scent of the Regent's favorite perfume, now mingled with the lingering smoke of battle, carrying a strange, sweet undertone. She looked up at the sky and saw the morning star falling towards the Weiyang Palace, like a teardrop bidding farewell to the new era about to begin. She knew the real show was just beginning. In this treacherous world of the palace and the court, she had to remain clear-headed and sharp-witted, like a white chrysanthemum resilient in the cold wind, to survive the undercurrents of politics and uncover the truth behind the layers of mystery.
As the first rays of dawn gilded the dragon-head ornament, the filigree butterfly on the silver hairpin in Dongfang Wan'er's sleeve suddenly pricked her palm. She lowered her eyes to avoid the Regent's gaze, but under the guise of adjusting her shawl, she subtly tucked the half-piece of the jade pendant engraved with the character "Ning" further under her sleeve. The scent of camphor mixed with gunpowder smoke filled her nostrils, a sweet yet bitter aroma, much like the bitter dew soup she had secretly tasted last year on the Lantern Festival—a soup sprinkled with sugar frosting on the surface, but steeped with twelve kinds of medicinal herbs at the bottom, so bitter it made one's tongue numb.
“Miss Wan’er.” The Regent’s voice suddenly pierced the silence, startling another icicle from the eaves. Dongfang Wan’er looked up and saw the scroll of the imperial edict twirling between his fingers, its bright yellow silk surface gleaming with a jade-like luster in the morning light. “Last night, when you were serving the late Emperor on his deathbed, did you hear anything…” He paused, his jade ring leaving a shallow mark on the edict, “For example, the whereabouts of the Crown Prince?”
The breathing of everyone in the hall suddenly subsided. General Li's hand rested on the hilt of his sword, and drops of blood seeping from the gaps in his armor dripped down his wrist guards into the cracks of the blue bricks, forming thin brown lines. Dongfang Wan'er noticed that the tassel of the leopard-tail sword at his waist had been twisted out of shape by his grip, and the two golden characters "Loyalty and Bravery" were twisted into a ball, resembling the characters "Instigation," an indescribably eerie sight.
“Your Highness,” she curtsied, the butterfly wings of the silver hairpin in her sleeve lightly brushing against the calluses on her palm, where red marks from copying scriptures the previous night still remained, “His Majesty only said before his death…” She suddenly paused, her gaze sweeping over the half-person-tall bronze crane incense burner in the corner of the hall. The remaining incense in the burner had long since extinguished, but the crane’s beak was slightly open, as if hiding some secret.
The Regent raised an eyebrow and tapped his finger on the gilded candlestick on the table. Candle wax clung to the base of the candlestick, shaped like a lingzhi mushroom—the very kind of auspicious carving that Dr. Liu of the Imperial Medical Academy was most skilled at. "What did you say?" he pressed, his voice tinged with impatience, yet also concealing a barely perceptible tension.
Dongfang Wan'er suddenly heard her own heart pounding in her ears, much like the sound of the Qiantang River tide she had heard in Yangzhou when she was a child. She remembered the look in her mother's eyes when she handed her the silver hairpin before she died; there was fear, reluctance, but even more so, a resolute determination in her gaze. "His Majesty said..." she began, her voice calmer than she had expected, "Please, Your Highness, take care of your health, and do not believe..." She suddenly staggered, her fingertips knocking over the teacup on the table.