Liuying, carrying the birthday gift Zhao Yen had prepared, said worriedly: “Should Your Highness first inform the Empress, so that she may be prepared?”

This question Zhao Yen had already considered countless times yesterday.

“No need,” she said, “Mother Empress will never agree.”

Liuying more or less had foreseen this result, and thus said no more.

Upon entering the North Court palace gates, Zhao Yen from afar already saw, beside the covered bridge, a familiar figure standing with arms folded in waiting.

“Liu…”

Zhao Yen called out, and as she approached said, “I truly do not know what I should call you.”

“Your Highness call me ‘Liu Baiwei.’ I acknowledge only this name.”

Liu Baiwei dropped his folded arms, sneered and said: “The old man is eager to bring me to the banquet, wishing all under heaven to know that the Prince of Yingchuan’s household has an heir to succeed. Were it not for the thought of seeing Your Highness for a moment, I would not have bothered to come.”

“Is it not for the fine wine and sweet cakes at the birthday banquet?”

Zhao Yen teased him, and suddenly noticed that his robe was somewhat disordered, and that one of the side ties was broken. She could not help but ask: “Did you fight with someone? Why is your garment like this?”

At the mention of this matter, Liu Baiwei grew sullen. Lifting his hand, he flicked at his robe and said: “Was it not Zhao Yan’s little childhood sweetheart who did it?”

“Huo Zhenzhen?”

“Who else could it be. Just now at the palace gates I came upon Princess Changle head-on, and she had to point at me and curse me ‘Fox Liu.’ Naturally I could not admit it. That little ancestor even went so far as to tear at my clothes, saying she wanted to see whether beneath my skin I was female or male.”

If not for Princess Shoukang’s timely intervention, his innocence might truly have been lost.

Hearing this, Zhao Yen burst into laughter, and much of the tension in her heart over the nanmu affair eased away.

“Your Highness still laughs?” Liu Baiwei raised his brows, an expression about to explode.

“Forgive me, I only found it amusing.”

Zhao Yen pressed her belly aching with laughter, eyes and brows curved: “That flamboyant and overbearing temper of yours—rarely does someone make you suffer a setback.”

“What else could I do? In the past, when I played Liu Ji, borrowing the status of a woman, I could still spar a few words with Princess Changle. Now that I’ve returned to my true identity, I can hardly bully a little girl, can I?”

Speaking thus, Liu Baiwei suddenly recalled something.

“In those years Zhao Yan bore the pressure to bring me back to the Eastern Palace. A large reason was to make the lovestruck Princess Changle give up. He said he had already implicated his own younger sister, and could not ruin yet another younger sister.”

He glanced around, seeing there were no outsiders, and only then asked in a low voice: “I have always been curious—why, at that time, did the Empress Dowager erupt in thunderous wrath and insist on sending you to Huayang?”

Seeing Zhao Yen’s startled expression, Liu Baiwei realized he had spoken amiss, quickly fell silent, and said: “I spoke too much. Your Highness, do not mind.”

Zhao Yen smiled faintly, lifting her hand to her chin in thought: “Even I myself have almost forgotten the reason. In the end it was only childhood ignorance, bringing disaster.”

In the North Court a covered bridge led into the Qifeng Pavilion. Ascending the bridge to look far, one could see the enormous frame of the Zhaixing Observatory rising in the northwest corner.

Zhao Yen halted her steps, feeling the cool breeze after rain against her face, refreshing and not hot, and said softly yet firmly: “There is a problem with the nanmu timber of the Zhaixing Observatory. This is my only chance.”

Between the two of them, words need not be too plain.

In Liu Baiwei’s eyes flashed a hint of surprise, but he quickly calmed: This affair breaking out would have but two results. One, the Emperor thoroughly investigates, and resolves the Shen Guang Sect; or two, the Emperor, in order to preserve face, conceals the truth, and resolves the one who raised the matter.

And to topple the parasites gnawing at the bones, it must be done before all eyes, leaving no room for maneuver. This was tantamount to forcing the Emperor to choose.

No matter how one looked at it, the second outcome was more likely. Yet even if there were but a thread of hope, he still must strive for it.

“Remember, this affair cannot be led by the Eastern Palace.”

Liu Baiwei said gravely, “I will think of a way to help you.”

Zhao Yen’s heart was faintly moved.

The letter she had sent out last night was written extremely obliquely, only to test Censor He and Cen Meng’s attitude toward the nanmu affair, without even mentioning the matter of remonstrating at the banquet. Yet Censor He, Cen Meng, or Liu Baiwei alike, all without prior arrangement chose to step forth, none shrinking back.

In the heat of midsummer, the Qifeng Pavilion was yet ventilated on three sides, cool and refreshing, with a most open view.

By the end of the hour of Si, the guests entered one after another.

Censor He and Assistant Minister Cen came into the hall and seated themselves successively, from beginning to end never exchanging any excess glances with the seat of the Crown Prince’s faction—everything as usual.

With a long sharp announcement, the Emperor and Empress Wei entered the hall, and the birthday banquet formally began.

Each household in turn kowtowed and offered congratulations to the Empress. Marquis of Ningyang Wei Yan’s gift was indeed a “Hundred Longevity Characters” scroll personally brushed by him. One hundred characters for “longevity,” each in a different style—standard, running, cursive, clerical—and with the spirit of masters ancient and modern. These unevenly sized characters just happened to form together into one great “longevity.”

Every stroke could be called the work of a master’s hand, drawing astonished praise from all the guests.

Although Zhao Yen had long known her maternal uncle’s wealth of learning, this time she was still a little shaken. By comparison, the birthday gift she had prepared seemed rather paltry.

When it was her turn, Zhao Yen rose and presented the brocade box, respectfully kneeling as she offered it:

“Your child is unworthy. I have personally carved a pair of jade pendants for Mother Empress, to respectfully wish Mother Empress ten thousand years of longevity, and everlasting spring in the Jade Pavilion!”

The female historian received the brocade box from Zhao Yen’s palm and passed it on to Empress Wei.

Empress Wei opened the box, and her gaze could not help but pause.

Inside lay a pair of lotus-patterned jade pendants. One tassel was old, the jade body slightly cracked—she almost at a glance recognized it as the very piece once worn by her son Zhao Yan.

The other piece was newly cut jade. Although the pattern was the same as the old one, it could be seen that a beginner had, with patience, carved it stroke by stroke, then carefully polished it bright.

The two jades stood side by side as twins—one representing her child who had died, the other representing the child before her. It was the filial piety of these brother and sister.

Empress Wei’s eyes flickered faintly, sorrow spreading in her heart, sinking her again into an endless black abyss. Yet she could not show it, could not display the slightest weakness or loss of composure.

She closed the box, and looking at the daughter kneeling in the hall, flourishing in growth, she nodded with gentle warmth: “You have shown heart, my child. Rise.”

“Thank you, Mother Empress.” Zhao Yen again performed a great bow, touching her forehead to the ground.

In fulfilling filial piety for Zhao Yan, she felt no more guilt.

Returning to her seat, she gently lifted her wine cup, her gaze meeting that of Censor He across the hall. In the eyes of this old minister, nearing sixty, she saw resolve.

Yet how could Zhao Yen, knowing the danger of this act, let another step forth and die in her place?

No matter what, Father Emperor had only her as “son” now—no matter his wrath, he could not take her as the target.

Zhao Yen put down her wine cup, supported herself to stand, and calmly looked toward the supreme emperor upon the high seat.

Just as she was about to speak, at her side Liu Baiwei stood up before her, his voice loud and clear: “Your Majesty, this subject has a matter to present!”

Zhao Yen looked at him in shock.

The banquet guests all fell silent, all eyes turning toward this suddenly outspoken young nobleman. In an instant, the atmosphere grew heavy.

Understanding what Liu Baiwei intended, Zhao Yen’s chest ached with fury, and she ground out through her teeth: “Liu—”

At that very moment, the hall shook with the tremor of earth and mountain.

Then came a thunderous crash from the northwest, as if mountains crumbled and rocks split, thunder roaring in wrath.

In the hall, no one cared any longer what the young nobleman meant to report. All were thrown into frightened cries. The imperial guards rushed in at the sound, drawing blades and shouting, “Protect His Majesty!”

Amid the chaos, someone cried out in a sharp trembling voice: “The Zhaixing Observatory has… collapsed!”

Following the terrified gazes of all, Zhao Yen widened her eyes slightly.

Outside, birds scattered in fright. Beneath the sunlight, the massive frame of the Zhaixing Observatory fell in upon itself, raising a sky-filling cloud of dust, like the dying sigh of a giant beast.

Its collapse could not be undone, none could restore it.

Within the Qifeng Pavilion, all were silent as cicadas in winter, a deathly stillness.

Zhao Yen looked toward Censor He and Cen Meng, and in their eyes she saw the same astonishment.

It was not by her hand.