Chapter 8

Empress Xie’s expression was as沉重as still water.

Born as the legitimate daughter of the prestigious Xie clan, she had been steeped in countless stratagems since childhood. Even as the ruler of the six palaces, she handled affairs with effortless grace.

When she arrived at the Linfeng Hall, she had already prepared several lines of argument—threats and enticements, sparing no means.

But Princess Jiang Luan only spoke two sentences before opening a hidden compartment in the long desk and slowly drawing out a dagger inlaid with gold and jade, deliberately gesturing it toward her own chest.

Empress Xie recognized the dagger as a common palace accessory; if the blade were not deliberately sharpened, it could only slice a few fresh oranges. She reprimanded her again.

Jiang Luan then unsheathed the dagger right before her eyes, revealing a freshly honed, gleaming blade, and used it to cut through several layers of her outer silk robes, leaving a thin line of blood on the edge.

Empress Xie was suddenly taken aback.

Then she clamped her mouth shut, no longer uttering a word.

By all rights and reason, as Empress, invoking clan law to punish a disobedient princess was perfectly justified; no one could fault her.

But if the matter turned into the Empress forcing the princess to death, the elder sister-in-law causing the death of the younger sister-in-law...

The historians would surely record every detail of that night truthfully. Even if the sovereign disliked the younger sister and did not punish the Empress heavily, the stain on that night in Linfeng Hall would follow her for life, disgracing the noble Xie family’s reputation.

Yet, having entered Linfeng Hall bearing the Empress’s regalia, she could not let matters end unfavorably. She would not allow the Empress’s dignity to be trampled underfoot, nor could she withdraw easily.

The two sides fell into a silent stalemate until midnight.

It was only when Pei Xian arrived during the second watch.

Spring Zhe and Bai Lu moved a folding chair together. Pei Xian lifted his robe and sat beside the ebony desk, with the Empress kneeling properly on the couch to his left and the princess curled up lazily on the Luohan bed to his right.

Xia Zhi brought freshly brewed tea, steam rising. Pei Xian took the celadon cup and sipped.

The bright candlelight reflected off the cold sheen of the blade. His keen eyes caught the faint red stain on the edge of the blade. His sipping faltered as his gaze shifted to the right, scanning from top to bottom, noting the torn silk at Jiang Luan’s chest, with a few drops of blood seeping through the pale blue satin.

His gaze lingered briefly before turning away.

The palace attendant Yuan, who had been shielding Jiang Luan, suddenly reacted, hastily fetching a shawl to cover the princess’s shoulders down.

Jiang Luan herself was indifferent.

She picked up the blood-stained, gleaming dagger again, turning it between her jade-like fingers.

“Thank you, Commander, for coming at this late hour.” She sat upright cross-legged on the Luohan bed. “The Empress insists on taking me away, sending me to the ancestral temple outside the city. I told her carefully that it’s not safe outside the city—if the rebel army launches an ambush and captures me—”

Empress Xie’s voice was cold. “The rebel army has long been crushed by the loyalist forces and scattered everywhere; there’s nothing to worry about. Princess Hanyang refuses to pray and cultivate for the sovereign. Why use such a despicable excuse?”

Jiang Luan lifted her heavy black lashes, her eyes heavy with sleep as she glanced at the Empress.

“I didn’t know the rebel army would take orders from the Empress? You say the rebel army is scattered and harmless, so they won’t attack outside the city?”

Suddenly interested, she pushed the paper and brush across the ebony desk toward the other side, eagerly urging,

“Come, sign here in front of Commander Pei. If you guarantee the rebel army is scattered and won’t attack the ancestral temple outside the city, I will follow your orders and leave the city.”

Empress Xie swept the paper and brush off the desk with a flick of her sleeve. “Absurd!”

“You’ve talked so much but refuse to sign.” Jiang Luan found it boring, pulled the shawl up, curled back into the wide Luohan bed, and sighed, “The Empress is lying to me to my face.”

The Empress’s gaze turned icy, ignoring her, and addressed Pei Xian beside her.

“Commander Pei, the matter of Princess Hanyang going to the ancestral temple outside the city to pray and cultivate is the ruling of the Clan Office, personally approved by the sovereign. The sovereign has decreed that Princess Hanyang must leave the city before dawn tomorrow. Please arrange a squad of imperial guards to escort her out tonight.”

Pei Xian had heard most of it and set down his tea cup.

“What is the capital’s plan if something happens to the princess outside the city?”

Empress Xie was taken aback, her eyes shifting in disbelief.

“The princess is praying and cultivating at the ancestral temple, guarded by the Southern Division’s imperial guards. How could anything happen?”

Pei Xian pondered, dipping his long fingers in tea and drawing a circle on the desk with three long arcs around it. He then took a handkerchief to wipe his hands.

“The rebel army scattered outside the capital has fled in three directions, roughly at these three points. Loyalist forces are pursuing and encircling them. It is estimated that fifteen to twenty thousand remnants remain near the capital. How many guards does the Southern Division have defending the ancestral temple?”

Empress Xie stared at the simple map drawn with tea, stunned for a moment, then stood up, looking down with cold authority.

“Pei Xian, you are the sovereign’s appointed Marshal of the Hedong Circuit. The sovereign has already issued the decree: Princess Hanyang must leave the city before dawn tomorrow.”

Pei Xian’s expression remained unchanged.

“The sovereign’s decree, I have heard. I am asking, how many guards does the Southern Division have at the ancestral temple? If the remaining rebels outside the city intend to attack the temple and seize Princess Hanyang, can the temple’s guards resist?”

Empress Xie drew a deep breath. She had thought Pei Xian was utterly loyal to the sovereign and that with him present, sending Hanyang to the temple was a done deal. Tonight’s outcome was truly unexpected.

Having reached this point, she closed her eyes briefly and said,

“Commander Pei, I have lived secluded in the inner palace for long and cannot answer. I will report truthfully to the sovereign and await judgment.”

Pei Xian also rose to his feet.

He stood over eight feet tall, towering a head above the Empress. His face was calm and unreadable, but years in the military had forged a commanding presence; when not smiling, he appeared stern and formidable. Sitting, this was less apparent, but standing before someone, the imposing aura was overwhelming.

“I respectfully escort Her Majesty the Empress.” Pei Xian bowed.

Jiang Luan leaned against the Luohan bed, watching the Empress stride swiftly out of Linfeng Hall.

Under the lowering night veil, she walked fast and urgent, even leaving her escort behind.

“Could she have cried herself angry?” Jiang Luan whispered to Lady Yuan.

Lady Yuan trembled, pulling away the shawl covering the princess’s chest to glance at the wound. Her lips quivered as she scolded, “Princess, don’t keep worrying about the Empress. Think of yourself more. This time it’s just a scratch—next time, what will it take?”

Jiang Luan clung to Lady Yuan, pouting. “Don’t worry about me. I can’t leave the city, or if I fall into the hands of bandits and get used as a hostage to open the city gates, what then?”

She leaned on Lady Yuan, lazily turning around, the corners of her mouth curling in a half-smile.

“Isn’t that right, Commander Pei?”

Pei Xian stood by the door, glancing at Jiang Luan’s amused expression, a faint smile playing on his lips.

“The princess speaks wisely.” He stepped forward, bending down to reach for the dagger resting on her lap.

“Hey,” Jiang Luan leaned forward, her delicate fingers pressing on the blade to stop him. “Mine.”

Pei Xian’s hand paused at the sheath, not forcing it away, maintaining his bent posture. He tapped the blade with his knuckles, producing a clear, resonant hum.

“A fine blade.”

His distinctively knuckled index finger also pressed on the blade, barely two inches from her slender fingertip attempting to block him.

“For the princess, I have offended Her Majesty. Must I not even hold a dagger?”