Chapter 2

Jiahe was safe.

The imperial physician said she had merely swallowed a few mouthfuls of water. However, since the lake was bitterly cold in the depths of winter, she would need to recuperate for some time.

I hid behind a handkerchief and wept in the Emperor’s arms for most of the day. Ladies from every palace came to visit, bearing gifts and words of comfort. The sole exception was the arrogant, overbearing Consort Chao.

She wandered in with the Fifth Princess, Qinghe, claiming that her daughter missed her imperial father and had mastered the multiplication table so well that she wanted to recite it for him.

Before long, she had coaxed and cajoled the Emperor away. Naturally, I lent her a little help.

After he left, Lixiang said unhappily, “Mistress, Consort Chao plainly did that on purpose. In this servant’s opinion, the Fourth Princess’s fall may well have had something to do with her.”

I knew perfectly well what had happened.

I glanced at Jiahe, whose little face was pale as she lay in bed, then dropped my handkerchief and went into the private Buddhist shrine in the inner chamber. I sent for the maid named Xiaoping.

The girl was stubborn. Kneeling before me, she insisted that Jiahe had been playing recklessly and slipped into the water by herself. She refused to say another word.

I lit a stick of sandalwood incense before the Buddha and watched her struggle to appear calm while her body trembled faintly.

I let out a soft laugh.

“I am not trying to force a confession from you. Since I pleaded for mercy on your behalf before the Emperor, I naturally intend to be benevolent.”

Only then did Xiaoping relax. A smile returned to her face, and she knocked her head repeatedly against the floor in gratitude.

“Thank you, Consort Rong. Thank you, Your High—”

Unfortunately, before she could finish, I pulled an iron club from beneath the altar table and brought it down hard on her head.

She had no time even to scream. Her mouth and eyes flew wide as she stared at me in disbelief, then pitched forward onto the floor.

One blow was not enough to kill her. I efficiently stuffed cloth into her mouth and bound her tight. By the time the incense had burned away, I had leisurely selected a golden knife set with jewels from beneath the altar.

The Emperor had recently rewarded me with a tribute sapphire. I asked a craftsman to shape the blade’s basic form, then carved the rest myself and mounted the sapphire in the hilt. It was exquisitely beautiful.

Xiaoping had awakened by then. At the sight before her, she nearly went mad with terror. She whimpered desperately through the gag and shook her head at me.

“What you probably don’t know is that Jiahe has been guarded by my hidden sentries since childhood. I know everything you did. When Consort Chao sent you, did she tell you how she planned to save you afterward?”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. I smiled.

“This knife has never tasted flesh. You may have the honor.”

Stroke by stroke, I scraped flesh from bone. It was one of my favorite ways to pass the endless days in the palace.

By the time I finished tidying the mess and emerged from the hidden room, night had fallen. Outside, Lixiang tapped gently on the door and called me to dinner.

I lit another stick of incense. It steadied the spirit, calmed the breath, and dispelled the foul air in the room.

Just then, the door suddenly opened and someone walked in.

Everyone in Changle Palace knew my rules. When I was praying, even the Emperor was not permitted to disturb me.

I frowned and looked over.

It was Jiahe.

She wore only a loose outer robe, as though she had just awakened. Wisps of soft hair lay across her shoulders, and her large black eyes watched me in silence.

Without drawing attention to the movement, I kicked a fragment of bone beneath the altar and wiped the specks of blood from my hands. Then I extinguished the fire stick, walked over, and reached for her cheek.

“Jia’er, how could you run out dressed like this?”

The old Jiahe would already have thrown her arms around me. This child instinctively turned her face aside and avoided my hand.

She examined me from head to toe with an eerie calm and detachment that no six-year-old child should possess.

After a long while, she seemed to remember something. She bowed and murmured, “Greetings, Lady Rong.”