chapter 4

Baiyu.

Steadfast as pine and cypress, as the year draws toward its close.

The late emperor had hoped his youngest son would grow into a learned gentleman whose hands had never known blood.

He could never have imagined that Chu Lizhi would become an invincible god of war—a god of slaughter.

From an unfavored prince in a remote fief, Chu Lizhi had carved his way to the supreme throne one bloody step at a time. He killed the traitorous elder brother who murdered their father. He killed the former empress who held the court in her fist, the sycophants who bewitched their rulers, and the soldiers who defied or disrespected him.

Every step forward, another inch soaked in blood.

His father’s wish had come to nothing.

Chu Lizhi’s hands had long since been stained.

And yet he was a gentleman.

He cared nothing for rank. At the frontier he ate and slept beside ordinary soldiers. He did not ask them to call him Your Majesty; “General” was enough.

Here, he was not an emperor enthroned in a lofty hall. He was a general with a sword in his hand, always the first into battle.

The frontier army won a sweeping victory and drove the Southern Barbarians a hundred li back. At the victory feast, the soldiers laughed and drank with abandon.

But Chu Lizhi kept staring absently into the distance.

Toward the imperial palace.

He was worried about me.

A young soldier sidled up to him with a grin. “General, I keep seeing you look at that jade pendant on your belt. Does it have some special history?”

Chu Lizhi paused and lowered his gaze to the pendant. The jade had a mellow luster, the polish of something often turned and stroked in a warm palm.

A tender smile touched his lips.

“No special history. A parting gift from my wife, that is all.”

His wife?

My heart jolted. For one instant, my mind went blank.

That jade pendant was clearly—

The soldiers sighed enviously. “Such devotion between emperor and empress!”

“No.”

Chu Lizhi waved a hand and took a long swallow of wine. “Not the empress.”

He had not spoken loudly. Only those nearest him heard.

If an emperor’s wife was not his empress, who else could she be?

Every man around him froze.

Chu Lizhi seemed unaware of their shock. He continued drinking deeply. Whatever memory crossed his mind made him give a sudden, derisive laugh.

“No. That is not right either.”

“She should have been my empress—”

The end of the sentence vanished into a choked breath.

He flung down his wine bowl and bowed his head, gripping the jade pendant until his knuckles whitened.

No one but me saw tears redden the eyes of this cold-blooded emperor, the man who would cut down demons or men alike on the battlefield.

Just as no one knew that the pendant he never let leave his side had come from me.

That the wife he spoke of was also me.

Only me.

I was the one who should have been his empress.

When he took the throne, the edict of investiture he wrote with his own hand had once borne my name.

“He Yaoyao, daughter of He Ruo, Marquis of Ningguo, became Our principal consort and freed Us from all concern at home while We purged evil abroad. She sustained Us through hardship and labored beside Us in the founding of this dynasty. Now that peace reigns beneath heaven and We ascend the great throne, her devoted aid must be honored with her rightful title. We therefore dispatch this envoy with golden patent and seal to establish you as empress, that you may uphold the sacred line, stand as mother of the realm, and serve as the exemplar of the six palaces.”