chapter 26

Limping through a ground strewn with brilliant petals, I swung my iron axe once again and returned to my life of chopping pigs and chanting sutras.

This morning, news arrived that a coachman had died by poisoning, but no one cared about his life or death.

Compared to that, the stories of Yan Qing forcing good women into prostitution and Yan Ci committing matricide were much more popular, spreading through the harem as if they had grown legs.

Hearing that I was involved, many came to inquire, only to discover I was a Mute, and left disappointed.

As the palace attendants dispersed, Yintao asked me, “Guanqi, you seem on edge every day. Are you worried about the Thirteenth Prince too?”

No. It’s because that damned Right Assistant Minister gave me twenty strokes with the rod, and my backside still hurts when I sit.

At night, Yintao sneaked into my sleeping quarters, forcibly pulled down my pants, and applied medicine to my swollen, bruised buttocks.

As she applied it, she began to sob, “The Thirteenth Prince is so pitiful, bullied like that.”

I whimpered along with her, only to realize Yintao wasn’t feeling sorry for me. The person she had secretly admired all along was actually Yan Ci.

Startled, I hurriedly pulled up my pants and gestured frantically, “You mustn’t like him.”

“Guanqi, I never thought of marrying him.” She held my hand. “Life is too bitter. I just wanted something to make myself happy.”

Her face was full of longing. “I want to count his eyelashes one by one while he sleeps.”

“Everyone has them, what’s so special?” I spread my hands in confusion. “If you want to count eyelashes, I’ll close my eyes right now.”

I closed my eyes, only to have my face pinched. Yintao laughed loudly, “Idiot.”

Half a month passed, and Yan Ci came out of prison unscathed, because Emperor Yan needed him.

He needed Yan Ci’s blood, needed Yan Ci to pry open the skulls of beauties, needed Yan Ci to fill the void left by Yan Qing’s absence.

As for Yan Qing, he abused his power to force good women into prostitution. Emperor Yan was furious and stripped him of his Crown Prince title.

Demoted to a Commoner, Yan Qing became deranged, screaming wildly in prison, “Yan Ci! Yan Ci! Come out here!”

Yan Ci pitied him and met with him alone. That very night, Yan Qing committed suicide in his cell.

It’s said he took off his prison clothes, looped them around the bars of the skylight, then climbed onto a stack of straw and hanged himself.

Yan Slave died humiliated. Emperor Yan pitied her, signed and sealed an Imperial Edict, and restored her status as Consort Yan.

It’s been two months since I last saw Yan Ci. On the night the Imperial Edict was issued, Yan Ci came to me with wine, drinking one pot after another.

He said he’d been a dog for nearly ten years, and finally could wear robes and a crown, becoming the Thirteenth Prince with a beast’s heart beneath a human face.

Just as he had done for the past four years, he pushed open the kitchen door, sat on the threshold, and shared sweet potatoes and the high-hanging moon with me.

My axe rested on the steps, its handle tied with a Red Tassel. The wind brushed against it, making it look like dripping blood.

Yan Ci reached out, his fingertip rubbing the corner of my eye. The calluses scraped my skin, making my face twitch involuntarily, which made him laugh heartily. The vermilion mole between his brows trembled, dazzling and captivating. A half-exposed canine tooth peeked from beneath his crimson lips.

“The third secret.” Yan Ci handed me a peeled sweet potato. “I told it to Yan Qing. Now, I’m telling you.”