When Xue Liulan returned to the residence, the first thing he saw was Murong Jin, sitting in the main hall. She was staring into space, chin propped on her hand, her fingers tapping an unconscious rhythm on the table.
"Why are you sitting here?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.
She looked up, her gaze immediately falling to the handkerchief wrapped around his hand. "You're injured?"
He glanced down at his palm. "I broke a teacup," he said with a light laugh.
She nodded and said nothing more. Her mind was a tangled mess. She didn't know how to face him. Guilt, perhaps, or some other emotion she couldn't name, made her want to look away whenever she met his half-smiling eyes.
He sensed her unease and sat across from her. "What's wrong with you today? You seem troubled."
"It's nothing," she said, averting her eyes. She stood. "You've had a long day. You should rest."
She turned to leave.
"Wait," he called out, rising to his feet and stepping in front of her. "Are you angry?"
"Angry?" She raised an eyebrow. "Why would I be angry?"
He held out his bandaged hand. "Because of this."
She followed his gaze. The handkerchief was tied in such a way that the small, embroidered butterfly was perfectly displayed in his palm. It was a woman's handkerchief. Die Man's.
"I know you went to see the courtesan, Die Man," Murong Jin said, her voice calm. "But I am not angry. You and I, Xue Liulan, are merely partners. I have no right to manage your affairs."
With that, she turned and left, leaving him alone in the hall. She had no right. She had known before she ever came to Jindu that the Fifth Prince's heart belonged to another.
Xue Liulan watched her walk away, his good hand slowly clenching into a fist. He didn't know what he had been hoping for. But he knew what he had to do now.
Three days later, the kingdom was draped in white. The Crown Prince, Xue Liuyun, was dead.
In the Seventh Prince's residence, Xue Feiyan stood before a window in white mourning robes, ignoring the host of advisors behind him.
The late Crown Prince had been a kind man who worked hard to maintain peace among his brothers. He had always taken special care of his youngest brother, Feiyan. And so, even as he coveted the throne, Xue Feiyan felt a genuine pang of sorrow at his passing.
"Your Highness, the position of Crown Prince is now vacant. This is our chance," one of the scholars said.
Xue Feiyan turned. "Continue."
"The Emperor has long entrusted you with matters of state. Of the remaining princes, only the Fifth Prince is a contender. But his reputation, his abilities… they are nothing compared to yours, Your Highness. This is a gift from the heavens!"
"Not necessarily," Xue Feiyan said with a slow smile. He addressed the room. "All of you will write a memorial to the Emperor. Submit it the day after the forty-ninth day of mourning has passed."
"What would you have us write, Your Highness?"
"You will wholeheartedly recommend the Fifth Prince, Xue Liulan, to be the new Crown Prince."
The room erupted in shocked silence. This was madness. He was handing the throne to his rival.
"Your Highness, this is too risky! If we all recommend him, the Emperor might actually…"
Xue Feiyan raised a hand, cutting him off. "In any other matter, our collective voice would sway my father. But in this…" He let out a soft laugh. "Just do as I say."
"Stop drinking." Murong Jin snatched the wine jug from Xue Liulan's hand and slammed it on the table.
The waterside pavilion was littered with empty jugs. He had clearly been here all day.
Dressed in white mourning robes, he looked up, his eyes unfocused. It took him a moment to recognize her. "Your father left?" he slurred.
"Yes. He's already on his way back to Wuchuan."
"Then why are you still here?"
A cold laugh escaped her. "If I could, I would already be gone. Do you think I enjoy being in this place that eats people alive?"
"Then go," he mumbled, slumping onto the table. "All of you, just go."
"Now is not the time for this, Xue Liulan." She struggled to pull him upright. "With the Crown Prince's seat empty, the Seventh Prince will make his move. Are you just going to sit here and wait to die?"
"Die?" He started laughing, a wild, broken sound. "If I could, I would have died in his place. Do you have any idea, Murong Jin? That was my only brother. The only family I had left."
"I know," she said, her voice softening. She knelt beside him, taking his hand. "But he is gone, Liulan. And you must finish what he started."
He looked at her, his drunken eyes full of a chilling derision. He said nothing. But his silence made the hair on her arms stand up. It was the silence of a man who knew something she didn't.
She rose and turned to leave, but his hand shot out, grabbing her wrist. He yanked her off balance, and she fell into his lap.
"Let go," she hissed, her hands pushing against his chest. Her face was burning. His scent—wine and something else, something uniquely his—filled her senses, and for a moment, she forgot to struggle.
He lowered his head, his gaze sharp and mocking. "Tell me, Murong Jin. Will there be a day when you, too, will kill me?"
"What are you talking about?" Her hands clenched against his chest. Her heart hammered. What does he know?
"You've already guessed, haven't you? So why pretend?" he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. "Do you have someone you favor? Zuo Xunxiao, perhaps?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" She shoved him away and scrambled to her feet.
"What does it mean?" he laughed. "It means I'd like to know if my life is safe."
The light in her eyes went out, replaced by a flat, dead calm. "My family chose you, Xue Liulan. I will not kill you. Whether you believe that is your choice."
She turned and walked out of the pavilion.
He watched her go, his expression unreadable. She'd gone cold in an instant. He couldn't understand this woman. He didn't understand why he'd said those things. He was supposed to be her partner.
Murong Jin walked through the streets. She drifted through the bustling city like a ghost, watching a life that wasn't hers.
She didn't realize where she was going until she saw the sign: Chengyue Residence. So be it.
"A jug of your strongest liquor," she told the waiter, taking a seat by the window. She had thought her days of drinking from bowls were over. But the man she had married was not worth changing for.
She poured a bowl. Before she could drink, a voice came from behind her.
"Drinking alone?"
She turned. It was Zuo Xunxiao, dressed not in armor, but in the fine white silk of a nobleman. He looked like a stranger.
"It's nothing," she said, turning back and downing the bowl in one go. The liquor burned a path straight to her stomach.
"Did he hurt you?" Zuo Xunxiao asked softly, sitting across from her. She looked like the general he knew again, but the light in her eyes was gone, replaced by a profound sadness.
She shook her head and poured another bowl. This was the path she had to walk. For the sake of her family, she had to see it through.
He didn't press her. He simply took a bowl and filled it himself. "Then, as is the old rule, I will get drunk with you." He drained the bowl.
Her hand paused. She looked at him, and for the first time all day, a real smile touched her lips. "Alright. We don't go home until we can't walk."
Their bowls clinked. The wine tasted of a past already lost.
"Zuo Xunxiao," she slurred after some time, the wine finally hitting her. "Leave Jindu."
"Why?" he asked, still perfectly sober.
"Because she doesn't want to be your enemy."
A third voice answered for her.