As expected, when the small one was beaten, the elder came.
Lizhu hid away the look of terror as if she had just seen a ghost.
Empress Tan’s given name was Tan Xuanrong, born of the third branch of the Tan clan of Wan Commandery, and she was the cousin of Tan Jing, the current head of the family who held the post of Shangshu Ling [Minister of State Affairs].
She was clearly not one of those commoner empresses who relied solely on the emperor’s favor to gain a foothold in the palace.
Since Lizhu had caused Shen Fu to fall into the water, and her son’s palm had been whipped until it was split open, naturally, she had come to hold Lizhu accountable.
In truth, Lizhu did not care in what manner the empress planned to settle accounts with her but she could not allow anyone to hinder this trip she was about to make.
Lizhu lowered her eyes, looking timid and fearful.
“…You cannot… Father has already granted me permission…”
“Cannot?”
The empress smiled and brought a spoonful of medicinal soup to Lizhu’s lips.
“All I do is for the princess’s own good. You’ve just recovered from a grave illness, how could anyone feel at ease letting the princess travel far all alone?”
“The imperial physician said it wasn’t a grave illness. A few more days of rest and I’ll be completely fine, truly.”
Lizhu pressed her lips together and turned her head aside.
“Your Majesty… should show more concern for Shen Fu instead.”
The empress drew back her hand and carelessly dropped the spoon back into the bowl, setting it aside.
“Oh? And what should I be concerned about?”
“That day at the Lantai, he said something—has no one reported it to—”
“The few minor clerks on duty that day were gossiping about royal affairs behind our backs. The guards of Lantai failed in their duty, allowing the prince to fall into the water and the princess to take ill. There were twenty-seven people present that day; by law, they all deserve execution.”
The empress cut off Lizhu mid-sentence. Her calm tone carried an undercurrent of lethal intent.
Seeing Lizhu’s face turn pale as paper, she curved her lips in a faint smile.
“What did Fu’er say? Would the princess be so kind as to tell me?”
It was as if a basin of ice water had been poured over her.
Lizhu’s pupils trembled; she stammered in a daze: “I… forgot. It wasn’t anything… important.”
“I see.”
The empress’s long phoenix eyes watched her with interest, as though savoring the sight of her fright and panic.
In an instant, the killing frost on her face melted like ice in the east wind—her expression turned warm as spring.
“Those twenty-seven people, though deserving of death, since the princess has just recovered, it wouldn’t do to bring bloodshed into the palace… In that case, if the princess insists on going to her fief, let these people accompany you on the journey. If they perform well, their merits may offset their crimes; if they fail, their punishments shall be doubled. What does the princess think of this?”
The girl’s tearful eyes brightened at once. She could hardly believe it and quickly nodded.
The empress then instructed the attendant beside her to bring the medicine, and with a smile, fed Lizhu spoon by spoon.
“The princess is kindhearted, these people should count themselves fortunate. I’m merely curious. The princess is usually the one least fond of going out, so why this sudden whim to travel to your fief?”
She spoke in a tone that seemed almost teasing.
“Could it be that something outside the palace has hooked the princess’s soul away?”
Lizhu answered timidly:
“I would not dare to deceive Your Majesty. Next month is my birth mother’s birthday. I fear that if Father sees me, it will stir his sorrow again. So it is better for me to leave the palace and travel for a while, perhaps then Father will not be reminded of the matter.”
“……”
A gaze heavy with pressure scraped across the young girl’s lowered face like a blade of steel.
Sixteen years old, at the age of jade and spring bloom—her beauty was as radiant as morning dew under the dawn light.
It was said among the older palace servants that Princess Qinghe resembled the late Empress about seven or eight parts. The little princess was tender and lively, while the late Empress had been gorgeously stunning; mother and daughter, both rare beauties in all the land.
Mi Jiang, Mi Jiang.
Empress Tan silently repeated the name in her heart.
She must have been a beauty, had to be a beauty.
Otherwise, how could a woman of such lowly birth as a laundry maid have become the mother of the nation?
And how could she… even after her death, still make a monarch remember her for so many years?
Empress Tan withdrew her gaze and rose, expression dull as if she had lost all taste for the matter.
“The princess’s filial piety is commendable… Take good care and recover well. The Imperial Treasury and Ministry of Clan Affairs will soon arrange your ships and luggage. Once the Grand Astrologer observes the stars and chooses an auspicious date, you may depart.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Only when the empress and her entourage had completely departed did Lizhu lift her head.
Empress Tan was still the same as ever—when in doubt, she killed first and asked later; mention the late empress, and her face would immediately change.
Not far away, the bronze mirror reflected a slightly weary face.
After so many years, she could still play the coward so easily—she truly did not know whether that was a blessing or a curse.
Lizhu rubbed her cheeks.
In any case, there was more good news than bad.
No one had lost their life, and she could leave the palace smoothly. Even if countless difficulties awaited her ahead…
She would cross each bridge when she came to it.
•—–٠✤٠—–•·
On the seventh day of early autumn, the red maples flared like clouds of fire—an auspicious day for travel.
Emperor Mingzhao ordered the golden-chassised carriage with six horses abreast to be prepared, and personally escorted Lizhu as she departed through the Central Gate and onto the imperial road.
Originally, it was an act of fatherly affection, and the officials all turned a blind eye. But unexpectedly, he also had Empress Tan and the prince Shen Fu accompany him in the send-off.
The empress and the prince could not ride in the same carriage as the emperor, so their procession had to exit through the side gate.
The officials and ministers who witnessed the scene all wore bitter expressions.
One must know—when the late empress had given birth to a son, only a hundred days later, Emperor Mingzhao had broken precedent to grant that child the title Princess Qinghe, bestowing upon her the revenues of one county.
When Princess Qinghe was six years old, the late empress passed away, and Emperor Mingzhao, grief-stricken beyond measure, added two more commanderies to her fief, elevating her rank to equal that of princes of the blood.
Yet Prince Shen Fu, though the emperor’s legitimate firstborn son and only heir, had reached eight years of age without receiving any such honors.
And today, the princess departed through the Central Gate, while the prince exited by the side.
The world often said: A mother rises by the glory of her son.
But in the southern realm of Nanyong, before everyone’s eyes, it was plain to see that here—children rose by the glory of their mothers.
Lizhu too wore a face full of sorrow.
In her previous life, after Shen Fu ascended the throne, she was dealt with so harshly, and her father bore half the credit for it.
The Luo River was close at hand.
There was truly no more to send; Emperor Mingzhao lingered with reluctance, giving repeated instructions.
“…Besides the people arranged by the Imperial Treasury and the Ministry of Clan Affairs offices, I have also arranged Colonel Lu Yu to lead the guards in escort. This man is trustworthy. Let him, and your—”
Emperor Mingzhao looked around, not seeing the familiar figure, and asked:
“By the way, where is that little eunuch Chang Jun who is by your side?”
Lizhu blinked: “I had him send the trunks ahead to be loaded onto the ship first.”
The emperor, without suspicion, slightly nodded: “Once aboard, have him meet Colonel Lu. I remember that little eunuch is skilled; with them on the road, your father can rest easy.”
Lizhu obediently answered.
After these instructions, Emperor Mingzhao patted Lizhu’s shoulder. His eyes seemed full of unspoken words, but in the end he only said:
“This journey, mountains high and waters far, my whip cannot reach—do you truly have to go?”
“You will not change your mind at this moment, will you?”
Lizhu’s words tumbled out fast, eager:
“If Father thinks I am merely off sightseeing improperly, I can, for Father’s sake, inspect the river works along the way, inspect salt and iron; if he thinks the expenses are too great, we can further pare down the supplies…”
“What nonsense are you saying, princess of the imperial house, why trouble yourself with such mundane affairs?”
Emperor Mingzhao laughed aloud and stroked her head.
“Go travel with your prince consort, enjoy the mountains and waters. When your father returns, I will wish my little Lin a smooth voyage.”
The imperial carriage rolled grandly back along the road; Lizhu stood and watched them go.
Just as a pang of parting sorrow began to rise, the light gauze of the empress’s carriage was stirred by the wind, and Lizhu met Empress Tan’s gaze.
Almost immediately she turned her head and grabbed the attendant Xuan Ying at her side.
“Hurry, hurry!”
Her face was full of fright and panic, as if a ghost were pursuing her.
Seeing this, Empress Tan tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“Mother!”
The boy sitting beside her complained, clutching his bundle like a zongzi and winding his small hands around his mother’s arm.
“Why do you not avenge me! Shen Lizhu has gone too far! She should die!”
“Hush——”
A cold, slender forefinger pressed against his lips as Empress Tan looked down at the child.
“Have you not had enough of speaking without restraint? Speak nonsense again and I will sew up your mouth.”
Shen Fu shrank back a little.
Empress Tan turned her gaze away.
“Don’t be impatient. As long as power remains in our hands, to swallow this breath of anger—how difficult could it be?”
•—–٠✤٠—–•·
Xuan Ying supported Lizhu as she boarded the ship.
“Don’t be afraid, Princess. Everyone knows that the Palace Guard Office is in charge of the patrol for this journey. Commandant Yang Kun of the Palace Guard Office is Her Majesty the Empress’s niece’s husband. If anything happens to Your Highness on this trip, the Empress will not escape responsibility.”
Lizhu shook her head at that.
“You don’t understand the Empress. She isn’t a normal person. When she goes mad, even the entire Tan clan can’t restrain her.”
Yet even so, Lizhu had to leave the palace.
She had already lived through the outcome of staying, waiting for death like a frog boiled slowly in warm water.
She had no choice. She had to leave and take her chances.
Xuan Ying glanced at her several times.
Lately, the little princess had been jumpy and wary, like a startled bird. And yet, for someone supposedly timid, she still dared to travel thousands of miles—truly puzzling.
“—Subordinate Lu Yu, courtesy name Wuju, pays respects to Princess Qinghe.”
A sharp clang rang out as he knelt. Lizhu turned back; before she even saw his face, she first caught sight of the pair of hands cupped in salute and raised high.
Lizhu couldn’t help but smile lightly.
“Captain, you may rise.”
When he stood, Lizhu realized this man was over eight chi tall, his figure strong and imposing.
“For this journey, the arrangements will trouble you, Captain. My safety will be in your hands.”
Hearing the soft, sweet voice tinged with a smile, Lu Yu instinctively looked up, then immediately realized this was the princess and hastily lowered his head again.
Even from that fleeting glance, he couldn’t help but be startled by her beauty.
Before coming, Lu Yu had thought the princess was merely a young girl newly grown, hardly worth calling a beauty.
Only after seeing her in person did he recognize the shallowness and arrogance of that thought.
“…Your Highness overpraises me. The patrol of the ship will mainly be directed by the Deputy Commandant of the Palace Guard Office. My team of thirty guards is only responsible for Your Highness’s close protection. We will devote all our effort.”
“Devotion alone isn’t enough.”
At those words, Lu Yu’s heart gave a sudden jolt.
Lizhu had Xuan Ying bring out the map she had prepared earlier and spoke with a grave expression:
“Come, explain our route to me first.”
Xuan Ying and the others set up a small table on the deck.
Though confused, Lu Yu saw the princess motion for him to sit opposite her. He removed his shoes and sat down, pointing to the map on the table and explaining each stop one by one.
Lizhu then asked about the rotation of his guards.
After hearing his answer, she shook her head.
“…Still not tight enough. Assign three more men to keep watch over the kitchen. Every dish that enters through the galley—by that, I mean every single person’s meal—must first be tasted. Also, no one in the entire unit is to touch a drop of alcohol.”
Lu Yu’s expression turned thoughtful.
It seemed the little princess did not trust the Palace Guard Office’s people at all. Otherwise, she should have summoned the Deputy Commandant aboard to give these orders together.
“Understood.”
Lu Yu then added,
“In that case, I shall personally take the late-night watch as well. I can also take the opportunity to patrol the imperial ship, inside and out.”
Lizhu nodded.
“However… is the princess worried about bandits? The route we are taking was carefully deliberated upon by both the Imperial Treasury and the Palace Guard Office. Moreover, this is an imperial vessel—Your Highness may rest at ease.”
“The palace has indeed done its utmost,” Lizhu replied softly, “but there are places even their reach cannot extend.”
Lu Yu asked, “What does Your Highness mean by that?”
The young princess before him, still with traces of childishness in her face, suddenly wore an expression of solemn gravity.
“These past few years, bandits have been rampant across the land, gathering in the mountains. Many local officials turn a blind eye. Some years ago, my father issued a decree: if bandits are not swiftly suppressed, or if the suppression fails, all officials of two thousand shi rank and below are to be executed.”
Lu Yu said, “Is that not a good policy?”
Lizhu shook her head.
“The decree is good in intention, but the punishment too severe. It has made local officials fearful of death, so they conceal the truth layer upon layer. In the end, the bandits grow unchecked, and by the time the court learns of it, the situation is already beyond control.”
Lu Yu seemed to realize something, and his gaze toward Lizhu carried a flicker of surprise.
Lizhu continued, “So, if we meet no bandits along the way, all the better. But if we do… then they will not be ordinary ones. No, if they dare to attack an imperial vessel, they are no longer mere bandits—they should be called rebels.”
When she finished speaking with that grave tone and looked up, she saw Lu Yu’s expression turn as though facing a great enemy.
She quickly said, “That is only the worst-case scenario. It’s unlikely we’ll be so unlucky. I just wanted to remind Lord Lu not to grow complacent.”
Compared to distant bandits, it was still Empress Tan who posed the greater danger.
But in any case, they must stay vigilant throughout this journey—only then could they react to whatever came.
“Understood,” Lu Yu said. “Thank you for the reminder, Your Highness.”
After hearing these words, he no longer dared to underestimate this young princess who had spent her life deep within the palace.
He cupped his hands respectfully and said, “Though the princess lives secluded in the inner palace, she perceives the world as though seated upon it. Your servant is in awe.”
Lizhu froze for a moment, then pressed her lips together in a faint, wistful smile.
After Lu Yu took his leave, Lizhu stepped up to the ship’s railing.
Mist and waves stretched endlessly; the scenery of the Luo River spread before her eyes, vast and bright. Her vision felt suddenly clear and open.
Remembering Lu Yu’s words just now, Lizhu drifted into thought.
Of course, she hadn’t learned to “see the world” for no reason.
In the past, Tan Xun had guarded against her, never discussing government affairs in her presence, nor staying long at the princess’s residence.
Pei Yinzhi, however, had never avoided such matters.
Perhaps seeing that Lizhu showed interest, he would always answer any question—and even those she didn’t ask.
When Pei Yinzhi held the height of his power, he would often summon high ministers to hold small court meetings within the princess’s manor. The matters of state that her father had never allowed her to touch would, at times, hinge entirely on a single thought from her.
That decree, in the end, had been abolished by her own hand.
At that time, seeing her in good spirits, Pei Yinzhi stroked her hair and asked, “Does the princess truly dislike bandits that much?”
Lizhu lifted her head from his arms, resting her chin against his chest, smiling brightly.
“Of course! Could there really be anyone in this world who likes bandits?”
She wished for peace under heaven, for the seas to be calm and the rivers clear.
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