Chapter 1

The carriage that would take my elder sister into the palace waited outside. Palace matrons and eunuchs filed in, and chest after chest of gold and silver gifts was carried into the residence.

Everyone in the capital had heard the news. The Meng family’s eldest legitimate daughter had caught His Majesty’s eye at the Mid-Autumn banquet. He had chosen her for his palace, and she would soon be made empress.

The position had stood empty for years since his first wife died. An empress in the Meng family—our ancestors must have been showering us with blessings.

The whole residence was therefore brimming with celebration. Only a secluded little courtyard in one corner remained cold and quiet, untouched by joy.

Just as she had in my previous life, my elder sister, Meng Siqiong, came to my courtyard before she left.

She stroked my head and earnestly cautioned me, “Ah Ting, once I’m in the palace, I won’t be able to look after you anymore. You must protect yourself. Don’t let anyone mistreat you.”

I looked up at her.

She looked just as I remembered: a delicate flush on her lightly powdered face, eyes like spring water, graceful and poised. Everything about her proclaimed a young lady raised with the utmost care.

She had always been like that, gentle and sensible, never one to compete with anyone.

She had brought me up. My elder sister had been a mother to me.

She had died deep within the palace. I had never seen her one last time, never again heard her call me Ah Ting.

Meng Siqiong paused. “I’ve left you some things. These banknotes are from a few estates and shops I sold the other day. Hide them well. Don’t let anyone find them. This jade pendant comes from my mother’s family. If you’re ever in trouble, take it to my uncle. He’ll help you.”

“This house is no kind place, Ah Ting. Leave as soon as you can. There’s nothing wrong with a life of freedom.”

She had not said that in our previous life.

I looked at her again. Those eyes, usually smiling as softly as spring water, seemed frozen over. There was a trace of coldness in them.

One glance was enough. She had come back too.

But I said nothing. My eyes merely reddened, as they had before. “Take care, Sister.”

“Take care, Ah Ting.”

Meng Siqiong turned and left.

The clop of hooves faded into the distance.

I took off my skirts and jewelry and changed into light clothes with trousers. The banknotes and jade pendant my sister had given me went into the hidden pocket sewn inside my clothes.

I stepped outside, took one last look at the silent courtyard, and climbed over the wall with practiced ease. I headed straight for the Lin residence—my sister’s maternal family, and the home of the Grand General of Cavalry.

I was Meng Siting, the most inconsequential concubine-born daughter in the Meng household. Apart from my face, I had nothing to recommend me.

My elder sister, Meng Siqiong, was different. Brilliant since childhood and beautiful as an immortal, she excelled at the zither, Go, calligraphy, and painting. Her manners and bearing were faultless. She could rightly be called the finest young lady in the capital.

My birth mother died when I was very young, and I was taken in by Father’s wife.

Madam came from the Lin family, a warrior daughter of a military house. She had fought on battlefields and charged on horseback. Now she could only sit within these walls, tending to her husband and children day after day.

My elder sister was her only daughter. Her reserved nature had won her little affection from her husband, and sometimes she would stare blankly at her sword, still in its sheath.

She never hid her sword practice from us, nor her study of military strategy.

But she suffered from old ailments all over her body. In my fourth year with her, she died of illness.

My sister was clever, with a gift for military strategy and statecraft. Things our brothers could never grasp, however they tried, took her only a hint to understand. No one could find fault with the essays she wrote.

I was restless by nature. After feeling my bones, Madam praised my extraordinary aptitude. I kept at it, practicing martial arts with her every day.

Before she died, Madam left me several books on warfare and fighting techniques. I could not understand them, but my sister willingly explained them to me in detail. Years of study sharpened my skills until slipping in and out of the Meng residence was effortless. Usually no one noticed.

Unfortunately, we were women.

These were talents we could not readily show the world. We could only share them with each other.

Whenever we played Go, my sister beat me by three stones. I would demand another game, refusing to accept defeat, and produce all the snacks and pastries I had slipped out to buy as bribes. Smiling, she would tap my nose and ask where I had been playing.

I would chuckle and tell her everything I had seen that day.

Through my eyes she saw the world. With my head in her lap, I listened as she explained the affairs of the realm.

During her years in the palace, I thought that if I quietly kept the Meng family safe and caused her no trouble, she would be safe too.

I was wrong.

The night she hanged herself, I woke with a start and walked barefoot into the courtyard. Even when rain began to fall, I did not notice.

I was frantic with unease, but I did not know why.

Rumors spread through the capital that she had broken her marriage vows and had an affair with a guard. His Majesty flew into a rage. He stripped her of her title, forbade the entire city to wear mourning white, and denied her burial in the imperial tombs.

It was our father, Minister Meng, head of the Meng family, who went to plead guilty. In a show of placing righteousness above blood, he even struck her from the family genealogy. Only then did the emperor’s anger subside.

She was no longer a daughter of the Meng family, no longer Empress Meng. She became a homeless, wandering soul without so much as a name.

On the seventh day after her death, when her spirit was meant to return, the capital rang with songs and dances. Lanterns and festive decorations filled our residence. No one waited to welcome her home.

Later, Minister Meng sent me into the palace. The world forgot all the more easily that Consort Rou, now the emperor’s most beloved woman, had an elder sister—the Empress Meng once renowned throughout the capital.

Who in this world would remember her except me?

If the Meng family could not protect her, I would.