Not many days later, an imperial decree was proclaimed throughout the Six Palaces. Nalan Xuan, formerly the Proper Third-Rank Virtuous Jieyu, was promoted to the Proper Second-Rank position of Lord, receiving the title Virtuous Lord. There was no festival to mark the occasion, no auspicious omen or joyful event. Promotion without merit easily invited criticism, while skipping ranks in advancement violated established palace convention. Yet the empress raised no objection, and the Empress Dowager had become little more than an elderly woman with an impressive title but no real authority following the struggle for the throne, living comfortably within the inner palace. An imperial harem that should have erupted into furious gossip and resentment instead fell unanimously silent.
Elio’s Notes: The “Six Palaces” (六宮) is a traditional expression for the imperial harem as a whole rather than literally referring to only six buildings. Lord (君) is a formal rank for a male imperial consort in this novel.
Everyone understood exactly why Feng Xuanyi had issued the decree. Nalan Xuan was now a young master of the Nalan clan. No matter how much truth or fabrication lay behind the story, so long as Marquis Dingbei acknowledged him and stood behind him, such an honor was hardly extraordinary. No one wished to openly oppose Marquis Dingbei, a veteran statesman who had served three reigns, and even fewer wished to make an enemy of Virtuous Lord Nalan, whose star was currently rising and whose imperial favor showed no sign of diminishing. The men and women who lived within the imperial harem—and would remain trapped there for the rest of their lives—had long since perfected the art of protecting themselves and ignoring matters that did not concern them. Even Consort Shu Meng, whose family possessed enough influence to contend with the Nalan clan, understood what it meant to stand at the center of a storm—and that there would always be time later.
In the western side hall of Yonghe Palace, Mo Qi—though he should perhaps now be called Han Ruifeng, Xuanshi Han—was no longer what he had once been. He lounged lazily upon a soft, comfortable chaise. Warm sunlight poured through the lattice window and scattered drowsily across the room. Han Ruifeng rested with his eyes closed in obvious contentment, enjoying the skilled massage of the servant standing behind him. When the imperial decree was brought throughout the inner palace, he merely replied without changing expression, “I understand.”
The servant who had been ordered to pour tea in the same room was nowhere near as composed as his master. The instant Han Ruifeng finished speaking, the servant’s hand suddenly trembled. With a sharp crash, the expensive and exquisitely made teacup fell to the floor and shattered.
Han Ruifeng raised a hand. The maid massaging him immediately stopped, and all the attendants silently withdrew. Soon, the enormous side hall contained only Han Ruifeng and the servant who had dropped the cup.
Han Ruifeng slowly opened his eyes. The contentment suggested by his earlier repose was nowhere to be found. His dark gaze was fathomless, filled with a gravity and mockery entirely at odds with his relaxed surroundings. The shadow within those eyes resembled a heavy fog that would never disperse. Looking at the servant who had remained stiff ever since the cup shattered, Han Ruifeng spoke teasingly, an ambiguous smile upon his face. “If you care so much, if you find it so impossible to accept, why don’t you go to him yourself and ask? Ask why he deceived you, why he hid such deep schemes. Why don’t you confront him? Shout at him? Glare at him and demand an explanation?”
“He is different from you.” The answer was calm and unwavering. The servant crouched and began picking up the fragments scattered across the floor, perfectly composed, as though his earlier loss of control had belonged to some unrelated stranger.
That servant was none other than Qing Zhu, who had once lived, eaten, traveled, and endured hardship alongside Ning Xuan and Han Ruifeng within Prince Rong’s residence.
Qing Zhu’s answer instantly twisted the face of Han Ruifeng, who ordinarily presented himself as delicate and fragile. His eyes turned vicious, as though he wished to reduce everything within sight to ashes. Yet the loss of composure disappeared almost immediately. Han Ruifeng was still Han Ruifeng: possessed of Mo Qi’s former steadiness and restraint, yet now equally capable of the inscrutable composure demanded by his current position. Elegant and graceful once more, he relaxed against the expensive rocking chaise and gently swayed with it. His gaze passed through the lattice window toward the scenery outside, where the first signs of spring had begun to emerge. His eyes softened into a hazy warmth, and even his voice became smooth and melodious.
“You trust him that much? Ha. Whether he and I are truly different is hardly something you or I can decide. Overnight, he went from some nameless wild boy of humble origins, who could barely even explain his own family background, into the younger son of the illustrious Marquis Dingbei—a veteran of three reigns who stands below one man and above ten thousand. I truly am different from him. No matter how hard I schemed, I could never learn methods or cunning like that. Who would have guessed that the careless, straightforward, thoughtless boy we knew back then had hidden himself so deeply? Had I known, I should have asked him for lessons. One hand alone cannot clap. Since both of us were looking for someone to support us while advancing and retreating together, surely joining forces would have been better than allowing someone else to reap all the benefits.”
At first, Qing Zhu had been just as bewildered and caught off guard as everyone else by Mo Qi’s seemingly complete change in personality. He had questioned him and tried to persuade him. Yet precisely because of that, Qing Zhu had come to understand more clearly than anyone: Mo Qi was Han Ruifeng, and Han Ruifeng had always been Mo Qi. He had not suddenly changed, nor had circumstances forced him into becoming someone else. From beginning to end, they had been the same person. It was the others who had failed to see him clearly, choosing instead to believe in the companion they themselves had imagined.
“That is exactly why I say you are different from him. You are the only person who would think this way. Don’t measure everyone else by your own heart and assume they are all as contemptible as you.” Qing Zhu was no longer as reckless and impulsive as he had once been, and the easy smile had vanished from his face, but his merciless tongue had not changed in the slightest. A few sentences were enough to ignite the atmosphere instantly.
“Contemptible? Who in this world truly lives freely and without burdens? And who is completely clean?” Han Ruifeng sneered. “Our purposes are simply different. I have my hardships and helpless circumstances. I have my own reasons for needing power. I imagine Ning Xuan does as well—or perhaps he merely wants power and status for their own sake. That is still a reason, isn’t it? If you can trust him completely without even asking what his reason is, why can’t you trust me? There are countless people eager to attach themselves to him now, offering advice and volunteering to charge into danger on his behalf. Losing you would make no difference to him. But why can’t you believe me and help me? I don’t want to confine you inside this palace like a prisoner, unable to step outside day after day. If you are willing to lend me your strength, then once I finally obtain what I seek, I promise I will not treat you poorly.”
Han Ruifeng appealed to both emotion and reason. When it came to Qing Zhu, he had lowered himself and exhausted practically every method available to him. Qing Zhu, however, did not so much as twitch an eyebrow. He simply continued gathering the broken porcelain at an unhurried pace.
“You have your reasons. He has his. Both of you have things you cannot speak aloud and difficulties beyond your control. I can choose not to ask. I can choose to believe.” Han Ruifeng had just begun to think that, after so many fruitless attempts at persuasion, Qing Zhu had finally relented when the next sentence instantly darkened his expression. “But I still have no desire to associate with you. Because even if you are both helpless, Ning Xuan would never willingly scheme against or exploit his friends. Even if circumstances truly forced him into a corner, he would rather compromise and sacrifice himself. You are different. Every step you have taken has been made by trampling across his heart. Just as you schemed to win favor in Prince Rong’s residence while Ning Xuan was away—did you ever stop, even for a moment, to consider how he would feel? Did you ever remember that the three of us once lived beneath the same roof, shared hardship and happiness, ate and slept together, and passed countless days as friends?”
“How could you possibly think about that? When would you have the time or leisure to concern yourself with something so pointless? Your head is filled entirely with your hardships, your helplessness, your calculations, and your flattery. In your eyes, people fall into only two categories: those who are useful and those who are not. Even now, the only reason you are patiently saying all this to me is because something about me—some ability or action—has convinced you that I might help you and become useful to you. I am deeply honored by that. Thank you. But I would prefer for the matter to end with the honor.”
“As for everything else, I don’t care whether I ever leave this western side hall. If you want me to continue serving you, then I will serve you properly and do my duty. If you don’t, invent whatever reason you like and send me away. Or perhaps you think my existence could become a threat to you, some uncertain factor that keeps you from sleeping peacefully. A master punishing or executing a servant takes no more than the blink of an eye. It is perfectly reasonable and entirely within your rights. You may as well invent some excuse and dispose of me.”
In only a short while, the floor had been cleared of every fragment. Qing Zhu stood and bowed respectfully. “If Master has no further orders, this servant will take his leave.”
Han Ruifeng watched Qing Zhu’s retreating back, his expression shifting unpredictably between light and shadow before eventually settling into calm and the faintest suggestion of a smile.
Ning Xuan himself knew nothing of any of this.
To him, the identity that had been forcibly placed upon him was so inexplicable that even he could barely understand it. Yet he had no idea that the three characters Nalan Xuan had already sent hidden currents surging through every corner of the imperial harem.
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