Chapter 11 — Old Dreams on the Dragon Bed

Her posture was one of absolute, trembling reverence, as if she feared that a single displeasing flicker of my expression might cause her head to roll upon the flagstones. As for A-Thuong? She had always been a creature belonging to my esteemed paternal aunt; whether she lived or died was no longer of the slightest consequence to me. Within the inner court today, not a single soul dared to look down upon me with even a shred of casual disdain. Regarding the Lan lineage, though they were the maternal kin of the Eastern Palace, they had ultimately thrown their unwavering weight behind the sovereign himself. His Majesty bestowed neither lavish rewards nor severe reprimands upon them. My father had submitted three successive memorials of self-accusation and repentance, openly confessing that, as a descendant of the Lan house, he had failed to perceive the dark ambitions harbored by the Central Palace and the Eastern Palace in time, and therefore humbly begged the Emperor to strip him of his marquisate and grant him permission to take his household back to his ancestral lands, where they might quietly shut their doors and reflect upon their grievous mistakes.

That memorial was held back and left unanswered for more than a whole month. Everyone throughout the capital whispered and speculated that His Majesty was merely waiting for the storm surrounding the dethronement of the Crown Prince to finally pass before he dealt a final, definitive blow to the Lan family. Yet, none of them could have anticipated that Emperor Yuan-lang would actually grant my father's petition to resign from office. There was no glittering, overflowing glory for the entire clan, nor was there any tragic rivers of blood flowing through the streets. That, perhaps, was the most merciful and peaceful outcome my father could possibly have begged for on our behalf.

I gently stroked my lower abdomen, which had begun to curve outward with the promise of new life, my thoughts drifting backward to a year ago. I had just returned from an extended stay within the Phoenix Pavilion when my father sent word summoning me urgently to his study. His study boasted a sun-drenched lattice window, and it had always been his greatest delight to sit beside it, listening to the sighing wind and watching the gentle fall of the rain. Yet, on that particular day, both the doors and the casements were bolted tightly shut against the world. My father sat alone behind his heavy scholar's desk, and never in all my days had I seen him look so utterly, bone-wearily exhausted.

He looked at me and said, "From this day forth, whatever she tells you, do not believe a single word of it entirely."

I froze in utter bewilderment. "Father, she is my aunt." She was the Empress, after all, and her son was the Crown Prince; the Lan family and the two of them were grasshoppers bound tightly to the very same blade of grass. From the time I was a mere child, that was the singular doctrine my father had ceaselessly drilled into my mind.

Father did not rush to offer an explanation. Instead, he simply reached out and opened an ancient, dust-covered wooden box resting upon the corner of the desk. Within it lay several pages of yellowed paper, accompanied by a solitary wax seal.

"That old case in Shaoguan—His Majesty has already sent trusted men to investigate it thoroughly."

I could not make head or tail of his words, so I could only remain silent, waiting anxiously for whatever he had to say next.

"There are certain matters that the Lan family has hidden away for decades, foolishly believing them buried beyond the reach of the living."

"Yet, if the Emperor truly resolves to dig them up, it will take scarcely any time at all for the raw truth to bleed into the light."

It was not until that very day that I finally understood that beneath the heavy, golden phoenix throne of the Phoenix Pavilion, the unavenged bones of a human life from the distant past were crushed into the dust. My father spoke with agonizing slowness. Each time he paused, it was as though he were forcing himself to swallow down a mouthful of bitter, stagnant blood on behalf of the entire Lan clan.

"In those years, this unworthy father was still too young and powerless to put a stop to such deeds."

"Later, when I inherited the title and enjoyed the residual grace of the Lan ancestors, I possessed no right whatsoever to claim my hands were clean."

A creeping, bone-chilling frost spread through my veins as I listened. Yet, the rigorous upbringing instilled in me over countless years still managed to help me suppress the violent tempest of shock churning deep within my heart.

"Father, what should your daughter do now?"

Father turned his gaze back to me, asking quietly, "What is your opinion of the Crown Prince?"

I paused for a moment to reflect. Yuan Ziyu was, of course, a commendable choice in many respects. As the heir apparent, he had been meticulously schooled since childhood to carry himself with unwavering poise, never allowing his deepest sorrows or joys to ripple easily across his countenance. In the past, finding him somewhat dull and stiff, I had always taken a mischievous delight in deliberately provoking him. Toward me, he had ever displayed a warmth and fondness he showed to no one else; indeed, on my birthday of the previous year, he had even dispatched trusted attendants to deliver a matching pair of exquisite jade pendants. For so many years, it had already been tacitly accepted by everyone in high society that I would eventually cross the threshold of the Eastern Palace as its mistress. Therefore, I answered with quiet confidence:

"His Highness the Crown Prince possesses a steadfast and mature disposition, and he treats your daughter with a fair degree of closeness."

"Should I enter the Eastern Palace in the days to come, your daughter would likely be able to dwell in harmony with him."

After a brief internal hesitation, I added, "It is only that lately, the Crown Prince has seen fit to show a certain degree of attentiveness toward the Xia family, and the young lady of that house happens to be of my exact age."

"Yet, the deep affection between the Crown Prince and myself remains unchanged, and the position of Crown Princess is a burden your daughter is surely capable of bearing."

"No." Father lifted his eyes, fixing a heavy gaze upon me.

"The seat of the Crown Princess is a prize I beg you not to contend for."

He paused momentarily, his expression grave. "The deep-seated suspicion harbored by His Majesty stems entirely from the ever-expanding ambitions of the Eastern Palace."

"The longer the Third Prince presses them into a corner, the more desperate and hurried their maneuvers will become."

"Once they grow hurried, they are bound to commit fatal errors."

"If the Lan family continues to hitch its fate to the Phoenix Pavilion, we will inevitably be dragged down into the abyss together."

At last, a dim comprehension began to dawn within my mind. "Does Father wish to cast off the Eastern Palace?"

Father stared at me for a long, unbroken stretch of time. "Not to cast off, but to sever."

The Lan family and the Eastern Palace had long since been bound together as one flesh. If they wished to survive, the Lan house had no choice but to ruthlessly carve away a living piece of its own body. The deep attachment between the Crown Prince and myself was a matter known to the entire capital; if we were to make a clean break, the severance could only begin with me.

After a long silence, I slowly raised my head.

"The position of the Crown Prince is indeed a lofty and coveted one."

"Yet, seated far above the Crown Prince, is there not still the supreme dragon throne?"

Father did not register the slightest hint of surprise at my words. After a prolonged stillness, he slowly closed his eyes. "But His Majesty has already reached his forties."

A faint, knowing smile touched my lips. "If we truly have the patience to wait for the day the Eastern Palace crumbles into dust, your daughter will still only be twenty years of age."

Yuan Ziyu had been carried aloft on the lavish praise of others since his cradle, accustomed entirely to having a smooth path paved before him by someone else's hands. A man of such mold might perhaps suffice as a sovereign in times of tranquil peace. Yet, when the moment finally arrived to witness genuine bloodshed and ruthless betrayal, he might not even possess a fraction of the cold-blooded mercilessness harbored by his imperial father.

And what of my paternal aunt? She could not even tolerate the presence of ordinary imperial concubines within the inner palace walls; how could she possibly endure watching the Emperor slowly, relentlessly tighten his inescapable net around her? By the time she finally woke to the reality of the sovereign's brewing distrust, she would undoubtedly strike out first in desperation. By that point, even if one wished to turn against her, it would already be far too late.