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Youwei sat frozen on the round stool, her gaze unfocused, unsure where to land to settle her panic.
She couldn't connect the Li Yan Father described with the gentle, devoted man she knew. She was simple by nature, but not blind to character. From the start, he had gone up the mountain to burn incense for fallen comrades; how could a man with such kindness commit an act that violated human decency?
She steadied herself, sat upright, and spoke carefully. "Father, your worry isn't unreasonable, but it's still conjecture. He's the heir now; his mother cannot rest among the consorts—she should be posthumously honored as Empress Dowager. As for the new sealant, there could be another reason. The bodies at the paupers' grave might be… people who needed to be dealt with."
"Mianmian, you—"
Yu Tuohai flushed with anger and disbelief, staring at his daughter. Even now, she spoke for him!
Youwei held Father's arm in both hands and gave it a gentle shake, her tone soft, almost coaxing. "Father, I'm not defying you. I just don't want to doubt someone on one side of the story. Don't worry—I've never planned to enter the palace. I only… only like Li Yan. Let's set aside matchmaking for now. Even if it's hard, I must…"
She paused, then spoke softly, her eyes turning gentle. "—I must see him one more time."
Her words soothed Yu Tuohai. His heartbeat slowed.
He hadn't said that the late emperor's remains were only a pretext. After Li Chengjue became heir, Yu Tuohai remained Commander of the Palace Front. Apart from Li Chengjue's personal attendants, he stood closest to the throne among ministers.
The closer he stood, the more uneasy he grew. The heir did everything well, leaving no fault to pick—though he had cut down other royal factions harshly. But to reach that height, who was tender-hearted?
He couldn't name the source of his unease—until he uncovered the paupers' grave. He couldn't ignore it anymore. He finally found the courage to speak tonight, but his daughter didn't believe him.
Seeing her pure eyes, he couldn't force certainty.
Had he overthought it?
He tightened his fist on the table and lowered his gaze. "You're right, Mianmian. I'll find a way to let you meet him—soon."
Perhaps Father's words took root, because when Youwei dreamed of Li Chengjue again, it wasn't their old moments. He stood in plain clothes in the great hall where the body lay, incense smoke curling, the eternal lamps shivering. He ordered men to pry open the late emperor's coffin; the guards dragged the body out. Li Chengjue didn't even look; he turned and flicked his sleeve, voice cool. "Throw the corpse into the paupers' grave."
The guards hauled the corpse away. As they crossed the threshold, the body jolted, the head tilted back at an angle, and Youwei saw her own face on that corpse.
Youwei jolted awake. She lay safe in bed and felt a wave of relief. She steadied her heartbeat and replayed the dream. The chill wouldn't fade. Father's words had affected her, but they were only unproven speculation. She told herself it was just a wild nightmare.
She couldn't sleep. She lit a lamp, donned an outer robe, and opened the wardrobe to take out two things.
One was a long ink-blue belt, folded neatly where she could see it at a glance. Beneath it lay a book.
The belt was a gift she meant for Li Chengjue. Inside the book, she had pressed azalea petals he brought from the northwest, turned them into dried flowers, and tucked them into pages for her to admire.
She hoped she could preserve the flowers that had traveled a thousand miles to reach her a little longer.
Holding both items, she sat at the table and remembered the look in Li Chengjue's eyes when she had told him she would give him a present—surprised, expectant.
After the man who called himself Li Yan saved her, she hadn't known how to thank him. Later, seeing his cloak torn from saving her, she made him a cloak by hand.
She had thought it through: not so costly he could refuse, but crafted with good materials to show her gratitude. The only flaw was her amateur needlework. Still, it was her heart. When she delivered it, she felt ashamed—but she had done her best.
Li Chengjue had been delighted. He donned it immediately, asked how it looked, thanked her, and said his brothers would envy him. Youwei couldn't help smiling. The joy of gifting lay in the recipient's joy. His care toward her gift warmed her and deepened her good opinion. From there, they began.
Later, she saw him wear her red cloak often. She couldn't ignore her crooked stitches and clumsy seams, so she decided to embroider something else—something that would make him think of her at a glance. A belt felt right.
She told him she'd give him a gift, and he chased her with questions for days. Youwei couldn't keep secrets; facing his expectant eyes, she almost blurted it out several times. But she swallowed the words to preserve the surprise and said only, "You'll know next time we meet."
She hadn't expected their next meeting to be on the day the late emperor died. When she saw him come to her, her first thought was, "The belt isn't finished."
When she finally finished it, she couldn't see him.
The belt wasn't perfect. She forced the pattern together piece by piece. Still, compared to the first red cloak, it was far better.
She had practiced and practiced to make it decent. Her fingertips had been pricked countless times. This belt stood at the peak of her embroidery.
When she missed him, she took out the belt and looked. Now, cradling it, she wondered whether he would like it.
After their deep talk on New Year's Eve, father and daughter tacitly kept his name unspoken.
The national mourning continued. The new year passed in quiet. On the sixteenth day, court resumed. After dismissal, Yu Tuohai returned home. Youwei fussed around him—warming his hands, pouring tea, kneading his shoulders as if she had missed him for longer than a single day.
Seeing her like this, Yu Tuohai's heart softened. He drained his tea, set the cup down, and spoke, heavy with thought. "I've found a chance for you to see him."
Youwei's hands stilled. Starlight brightened her eyes. "Really!?"
"After the enthronement ceremony at the start of spring, His Highness will host a celebration banquet. I'll take you."
A celebration banquet? Youwei thought of the belt. At such an occasion, would she have a chance to speak to him in private? If not, would gifting the belt be inconvenient?
Seeing him would be enough. She wanted to know how he had been these months, whether his migraines had eased, whether he slept at night.
Those could wait. For now, she hugged Yu Tuohai's arm, playful and bright. "Thank you, Father. You're the best!"
Before the holiday, the palace had rewarded them with ten bolts of fragrant cloud brocade. Yu Tuohai wouldn't use it, so he gave it all to Youwei to sew clothes.
She had used only some. She had meant to wear the new clothes for the new year, but their scent felt too precious, so she left them in the cabinet untouched—together with the belt.
Should she wear them to the banquet? After a moment's struggle, she decided not to. Rewards from the sovereign were honors, and meritorious ministers wore them to show favor. But Youwei hadn't asked her father to help him for rewards.
The enthronement ceremony ended that day. The new emperor's ascent was proclaimed across the realm. Even in the inner residence, Youwei heard the sounds outside. She heard them, but they felt unreal. She couldn't link "Fourteenth Prince Li Chengjue" with "lord of the world."
Even the last time she saw him, he was the Fourteenth Prince. Hearing cheers for the new emperor felt like hearing news about a stranger. Still, she chose to be happy for him.
At the end of the Shen hour, Yu Tuohai returned from the palace. The maids helped him shed formal regalia and dress in banquet attire.
He finished and asked the maid, "Where is the young lady?"
"Father, you called me."
Youwei's voice came from outside. Xiaotao lifted the warm curtain. Youwei wore a plain ebony hairpin, a cream cloak, and a simple crossed-collar short jacket beneath. Her long skirt held hidden pleats at the waist, and, when she walked, tiny cloud patterns shimmered in the weave—subtle from afar.
Though the late emperor lay buried, national mourning remained. Everything stayed simple. Youwei's ensemble looked graceful and proper, her face lively and clear, like a white butterfly.
Seeing his daughter, Yu Tuohai's stern face eased into a smile. "It has been long since I saw you dress up. I didn't realize you'd grown so lovely."
Youwei's cheeks warmed. She knew he meant to comfort her. Compared to talented noblewomen trained by great houses, she was like a common flower in the imperial garden—a foil to rare blooms no one noticed.
But Father had taught her since childhood: when people have too much, they breed greed. He never demanded excellence of her. He wanted her to learn a little of everything, without pressure, to grow up ordinary—no striving, no comparisons.
Youwei didn't grasp those principles. She only knew to listen to Father. He loved her most. He would never harm her.
"I already grew up. You just keep treating me like a child."
She took Father's hand and left the residence together, boarding the carriage. Their home lay west of the imperial city, among newly risen ministers.
The western street held large but ordinary estates, unlike the eastern quarter, where hereditary nobles rooted deep and flaunted grandeur through sheer size.
When they reached the imperial city, nobles who had survived the purge arrived as well. Carriages lined up to enter Xuande Gate. Lower-ranked officials dismounted there, so the area clogged.
Youwei opened the window. The sky burned with sunset. Light spilled over seas of glazed tiles, poured down gilded eaves, and even the bells hanging from corners looked dipped in amber. They swayed in the evening wind but made no sound under mourning.
The Duke of Ning's carriage stood ahead—elmwood wheels wrapped in soft leather, dark green drapery with hidden patterns, understated and lavish. A striking face peered from the window and, seeing Youwei, smiled and nodded.
Youwei waved back. She thought, Xie Mingshu had come too.
After half an hour, Youwei stepped down. Outside the Hall of Talents, honor guards stood on both sides, solemn and fierce.
They were likely the new emperor's personal soldiers. Each carried the blood-edged aura of battle, daunting to behold.
The hall hosted grand palace banquets. When there were banquets, Yu Tuohai always brought Youwei. Everyone knew the Commander of the Palace Front cherished his daughter, and no one minded. Though she lacked noble birth, she entered the palace for feasts more often than many.
Inside, civil and military ranks arranged seats by grade. Tables bore wine and dishes and lay under brocade cloths. They arrived neither early nor late. As they sat, other princes and ministers filed in.
After three months of bloodshed, few dukes and grandees remained. Under the late emperor's indulgent style, tables once overflowed into courtyards; now a single hall held everyone, with many seats empty.
The new emperor permitted ministers to bring families. They still had time before the feast, so some gathered in pairs outside and spoke in hushed voices.
The young ladies couldn't sit still. A lively one took Youwei's hand. "Come on—let's talk in the side hall."
Inside, Xie Mingshu and several noblewomen already waited.
The room brimmed with girls in their prime. Mourning kept them in plain colors, but their fresh faces made the side hall glow.
Even in a garden of myriad blooms, the queen flower stood out.
She sat at the principal seat. Every gaze and posture tilted toward her, and any conversation watched her expression. She cradled a hand warmer, eyes on fresh winter plum by the window, looking detached, a little absent.
Most faces were familiar from the Duke of Ning's feasts.
Seeing Youwei, light touched Xie Mingshu's eyes. "Mianmian, sit by me."
Youwei let go of the girl's hand, smiled apologetically, and went to Xie Mingshu. Xie Mingshu tugged her down beside her. "So lively—what are we talking about?"
Other girls chimed in. "Yes, we haven't gathered like this in ages."
"We're talking about new clothes. In a month, the weather will warm. We've met so rarely, we don't even know the latest styles."
Xie Mingshu picked up the thread and asked Youwei, "Did you make new clothes? If not, let's go to the Brocade Pavilion together. They rewarded us with biluo brocade before the new year, and I haven't used mine. What did they grant your father?"
Youwei didn't stand out among noble girls, but Xie Mingshu favored her for some reason and treated her more warmly than others.
She was Youwei's best friend among peers—strangely, Youwei still felt she didn't count as a friend in Xie Mingshu's heart.
Now, under Xie Mingshu's beautiful, unwavering gaze, that odd feeling stirred again.
The words "fragrant cloud brocade" rose to Youwei's lips, then she swallowed them. She pulled her hand back, feigning a blush. "I'll wait. I put on weight during the holiday. The Brocade Pavilion's embroiderers will laugh at me."
The other girls giggled, and Xie Mingshu covered her lips with a smile. "You have a lucky face. Even if you weigh a bit more, it's blessing. Everyone will like you."
The odd feeling dissolved. She felt like Xie Mingshu's good friend again.
They chatted a little longer. Most of the noblewomen had arrived.
Then a girl seated on Xie Mingshu's other side spoke. "Strange. I've seen those above third rank, and no one wears fragrant cloud brocade. Who did His Majesty grant it to?"
Youwei's heart jumped. She couldn't help asking, "What fragrant cloud brocade?"
She rarely showed cleverness, so no one suspected her. The noblewoman answered.
"I heard that after he became heir, the new emperor ordered the Weaving Bureau to make a fabric that carried its own fragrance, said to come from the royal house of Tanluo, homeland of the sainted emperor's mother, Consort Yan. With such care, it isn't like ordinary rewards. People at the Weaving Bureau say they wove only ten bolts. I wonder who received them."
"Whoever it was—one bolt shows His Majesty's favor. No one knows his true temperament yet. If there is such a trusted minister, they should be courted."