Chapter 4 — Beauty Carries No Guilt

His eyes were swimming with a boundless, heart-wrenching sorrow, to the extent that a solitary tear slipped silently down his cheek—a portrait of devotion carried to its absolute extreme. This poignant scene did not escape the notice of the household staff, who immediately began whispering behind closed doors. Among them, the young maidservants looked on with breathless adoration.

How I envy Lady Sinking Fish, they murmured, marveling at her ethereal beauty and the all-consuming love the prince so freely bestows upon her.

The strategists and advisors, however, were consumed by a deep, brooding anxiety.

We fear she is a fatal beauty, a siren destined to distract the prince from his grand ambition of claiming the realm.

Khuong La, too, caught wind of every gesture and proclamation made by Wei Zhao. Struck by a wave of violent agitation, she forced her fragile, fever-weakened frame out of bed to seek me out. Clenching her teeth until her jaw locked, she spat out the words:

Su Sinking Fish, are you thoroughly pleased with yourself now?

The prince treats you with such boundless devotion.

He abandons his official duties entirely, spending every waking hour lingering by your side.

He scatters gold and jewels as if they were dust, all to buy a single smile from your lips.

It was only yesterday he laid eyes upon you, yet already today he has summoned the finest master seamstresses in the land of Wei to craft your wedding robes.

Her eyes swept over me, the rims burning an angry, furious red.

Back in the village of Viet Khe, you swore up and down that the prince was a heartless, fickle man, and you earnestly advised me never to approach him. Yet here you are, employing every wicked wiles and seduction at your disposal to completely unseat his senses and drive him to madness.

Bah! You are utterly repulsive.

Beneath the heavy gaze of her burning resentment and biting jealousy, I merely shook my head with quiet, unshakeable calm.

I will never marry him.

In my past life, Wei Zhao had treated me with this exact same brand of intoxicating tenderness. It was love at first sight, followed by a fierce, impassioned courtship where he poured his entire soul into winning me. I had been only sixteen years old back then. Though hesitant at first, how could a young girl resist such a relentless, overwhelming tide of affection? I yielded, marrying him to become the Princess of Wei. For ten long years, we were a devoted husband and wife, as deeply in enamored as we had been on our wedding day. But the moment the Prince of Zhao ascended the throne and stripped the regional lords of their fiefdoms, a bitter, consuming regret poisoned Wei Zhao’s mind. He could never accept that he, once the favored darling of the heavens, had been reduced to a mere commoner. He turned his hatred upon me, pinning me down with brutal force and driving a goblet of poisoned wine to my lips.

It is small wonder people call beauties the downfall of kingdoms.

If I had not been bewitched by you all those years ago, if I had not begrudgingly offered you up to the imperial court as a tribute, the one sitting upon that golden dragon throne today would have been none other than myself.

He had stroked my cheek—a face already mapped with the fine, cruel lines of aging—and mocked me with a soft, chilling laugh.

Had I done that, what beauty could I possibly have failed to possess?

I had collapsed miserably onto the cold stone floor, tears blinding me as the poison tore through my veins with terrifying speed. The agonizing, heart-shattering pain of that final moment remains etched into my soul as clearly as though it happened yesterday. I was only twenty-six years when I drew my last breath. It was only at the threshold of death that I finally understood: the man who displays the most profound devotion is often, in truth, the most heartless betrayer of all. Having been granted the rare grace of a second life, I would never, under any circumstance, walk that wretched path again.

The agents of the Prince of Zhao were scheduled to arrive on the morrow. I had firmly rejected Wei Zhao’s proposal of marriage, intending simply to slip away from the royal estate at the break of dawn. Fate, however, intervened. Driven to despair, Wei Zhao drank himself into a stupor and accidentally tumbled into the deep garden lake. When they finally dragged him out and revived him, his expression turned as dark as a gathering storm, and he closeted himself with his chief strategists for half a glass-hour of intense counsel. Immediately afterward, he dispatched riders straight to the village of Viet Khe to drag Khuong La’s parents, brothers, and sisters out of their homes. He lavished them with chests of gold and silver, blending heavy bribes with naked, brutal intimidation. By carrot and by stick, he forced Khuong La—still frail and far from recovered from her illness—to pack her belongings and set off toward the capital without a single day of rest. The truth dawned on me instantly: he, too, had returned from the dead. Terrified that a long night would bring restless dreams, he could no longer wait to set his grand beauty trap using Khuong La, so desperate was his obsessive hunger for the throne. And so, by the time he finally finished manipulating Khuong La and remembered my existence, I had already fled into the night accompanied by the old estate gardener. We took temporary refuge at a quiet country inn, where the gardener released a carrier pigeon to alter our rendezvous point. Casually, I asked who was coming to meet and escort us to safety.

It is Su Mingze, the young general of the house of Su, the gardener replied.

I froze in place. In my previous life, I had heard whispers of this man. I possessed no illustrious family background, nor did I hold any mastery over the zither, chess, books, or painting; I could never hope to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the refined daughters of noble clans. By all conventional logic, I was utterly unworthy of being the Princess of Wei. Consequently, countless people had once sneered at me behind my back, murmuring that I did not belong in such elevated company. To my face, they wore sweet, affectionate smiles, but the moment I turned my back, they mocked me as an ignorant country girl who had no business stepping into elegant halls, having climbed to her high station purely on the strength of a pretty face that happened to catch the eye of the Prince of Wei. Wei Zhao had indulged me boundlessly, showering me with endless pampering and granting my every whim. He would declare to anyone who would listen how virtuous and wonderful I was, throwing his protection around me and forbidding a single soul from looking down upon me. Yet, a Wei Zhao like that—a man of such public devotion—had also, after a night of heavy drinking, curled his lips into a cold, indifferent smile as he looked down at me:

You should truly offer your deepest thanks to that strategist of mine.

He had let out a dry, mocking laugh.

Had he not been the one to bring you straight to my door, you would likely have remained trapped in that filthy, impoverished village for the rest of your miserable life.