Fifteen. Once More, the Jade Pavilion Blossoms Like Snow

At the sound of the summons, all the officials in the hall turned their gaze outside. Before long, the Empress Dowager, adorned in her phoenix crown and crimson robes, glided into the Hall of Supreme Harmony with measured, elegant steps.

She was unmistakably a woman well into her years, yet her face bore not a trace of time’s passage—still so stunning that the world seemed to pale beside her. She needed no lavish ornaments or extravagant attire to outshine all others; even in simple garments without a touch of makeup, it would be difficult to find her equal throughout the entire Great Zhou.

Her cool, clear eyes swept over the assembled ministers, finally settling on Emperor Zhaoning upon the dragon throne. With a slow, deliberate courtesy tinged with displeasure, she spoke, “Such a grand court session, and yet it seems I am not fated to partake?”

Emperor Zhaoning, as if waking from a dream, hurried to his feet, awkwardly replying, “Mother, please be seated. I feared the early hour would disturb your rest, especially with the chill of winter setting in.”

Whether it was the officials’ imagination or not, from the moment the Empress Dowager entered, the Emperor’s authority seemed to wane, while the officials themselves grew ever more silent and cautious.

She flicked her hand dismissively and seated herself with unceremonious grace on the high chair to the left. The ministers rose in unison, their voices resounding: “Greetings to Your Majesty, the Empress Dowager!”

She showed neither joy nor sorrow, merely lifting a hand with cold detachment. “Rise. Where were we?”

The Left Vice Censor-in-Chief immediately stepped forward, bowing low. “Your Majesty, we were discussing the rewards due to the Third Prince for reclaiming Yunchuan—though his whereabouts remain unknown. The Prime Minister is proposing a marriage alliance.”

The Empress Dowager gave a cold snort, tightening the sable cloak around her shoulders. “My son has rendered such a great service and now his life is in peril, yet no one is sent to investigate. And Prime Minister Zhang still has the leisure to consider marriage alliances? Should anything happen to him, how am I to face his late mother?”

After a moment’s hesitation, the Minister of War stepped forward and bowed. “Your Majesty, the Emperor has just tasked me to investigate…”

The Empress Dowager shot him a sidelong glance, her eyes frosted with chill, and barked, “Then why are you still here?”

Minister Sun hastily saluted and nearly stumbled in his rush to leave the hall.

A heavy silence fell. The ministers could not discern the shifting tides of power and were at a loss as to which side to support.

Since when did the Third Prince enjoy the Empress Dowager’s favor? In his twenty years, had he ever even met her? If his followers had known she was backing him, would his faction still be so feeble?

The Empress Dowager of Great Zhou was unlike those of other dynasties—she was the legitimate regent, with both the Censorate and the Northern Pacification Office under her direct command. If she took a dislike to any official, they could be imprisoned the next day and, come the autumn executions, be led to the marketplace for beheading.

“In years past, when his mother was alive, I was on good terms with Consort De. I am practically half a mother to him. As for his marriage, let us wait until he returns safely. I will decide it myself.”

With these words, she broke the rare silence of court. Turning to Emperor Zhaoning, she said with calm decorum, “There is no urgency in meting out rewards or punishments. What matters now is announcing the reclamation of Yunchuan to the realm. What does Your Majesty think?”

Emperor Zhaoning’s expression was unreadable as he gave a slight nod. “Mother speaks wisely. We can discuss the rest later. The priority is to proclaim our great victory. I appoint the Minister of Rites to oversee this, and as for retrieving my son, Minister Sun is authorized to dispatch a court official beyond the capital.”

The Minister of Rites bowed deeply. “I obey.”

The Deputy Minister of War also bowed. “I will inform Minister Sun.”

No one else petitioned. The Empress Dowager said nothing more. Emperor Zhaoning glanced around the hall and declared, “If there is no further business, court is dismissed.”

Amid a chorus of farewells, the officials streamed out like a receding tide.

The princes exchanged glances, then departed as well—this session had touched on too many matters; they needed to reflect and strengthen their factions.

The Empress Dowager offered a final courtesy, then swept from the hall in her phoenix robe as Emperor Zhaoning called after her, “Mother, please walk slowly.” Passing through the vermillion-walled corridors, she returned to Weiyang Palace.

After removing her cloak and cumbersome ornaments, she ordered a maid to bring a foot warmer and dismissed the other attendants under the pretense of wishing to rest.

She slipped off her palace shoes, her delicate feet resting on the warm brazier. After a moment, she drew from her sleeve a thin mirror, its surface like polished jade.

Raising her hand, she sent a faint current of true energy rippling across its face. After a few breaths, lines of text slowly appeared:

Zi: “How is the situation?” —Ten days ago

Mao: “All is well. No suspicions.” —Ten days ago

Yin: “You wretched woman, may you die miserably!” —Five days ago

Mao: “It wasn’t me. Blame your own lack of skill.” —Five days ago

The Empress Dowager gazed at the mirror, lost in thought. Picking up a slender wooden brush, she hesitated, then finally wrote, “The court official is leaving the mountain. I will intervene where I can. Be careful.”

She put away the mirror without waiting for a reply, then drew the drapes around her bed and stretched luxuriously.

Her sumptuous robes could not conceal her alluring figure—enough to make even a palace maid blush.

—

Meanwhile, in Fox Mound of Qingqiu, court was still in session.

The Demon Empress was enraged.

A grand army of more than two hundred thousand had crossed the Wei River over several days, only to just seize Yunchuan before being cut off from supplies and forced to retreat. Their safe withdrawal depended entirely on the body of the so-called “Third Prince” in Su Zhiqiu’s hands.

Yet no one knew if the corpse was truly his. Even if it was, it mattered little—a single prince meant little to Great Zhou, which would not send troops west or south, but would only strengthen its defenses further.

After much debate, the final punishment was reduced to stripping the Qingqiu Princess of her office and confining her for several months.

Any harsher measures were pointless. Returning Yunchuan meant years of war had been for naught, with countless resources squandered. Qingqiu was not yet in debt, but it would take time to recover.

Moreover, the supply lines could not have been severed so easily by Great Zhou’s military—there was clearly a traitor at court.

Yet to openly accuse anyone would only breed suspicion.

The council dragged on until noon, ending in discontent.

Atop the palace tower in Fox Mound, Su Zhiqiu, now a prisoner, gazed out at the layered peaks of the city.

A trusted maid knocked softly. Su Zhiqiu turned, asking, “Well?”

The heavy, ironclad door swung open, revealing only a pair of eyes through a peephole.

The maid replied, “Princess, court has ended with little result. The Demon Empress has lessened your punishment: only a month’s demotion and a few days’ confinement.”

Su Zhiqiu showed little reaction, as if she had expected as much. “And the corpse of the Third Prince? Any objections at court?”

“Princess, the Crown Prince and Fourth Princess do not believe he was killed by stray arrows during the retreat. They have jointly petitioned for verification. The Demon Empress agreed—the corpse will be handed to the Grand Exorcist for examination upon his return from seclusion.”

“Those two wretches,” Su Zhiqiu spat coldly. “When does the Grand Exorcist return?”

The cat-eared maid twitched her ears thoughtfully. “Perhaps in the coming spring, though preparations are meager this time—he may return sooner.”

“You may go.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Su Zhiqiu glanced at the glowing seals around her wrists and ankles, then looked out the window. Snow had begun to fall again over Fox Mound; the distant mountains were bathed in white, palaces rising like blossoms from the snow.

“Two or three months—that will suffice.”

The Princess of Qingqiu murmured to herself. Even here, she could not help but think of Pei Xiunian, knowing it was his heart’s elixir that haunted her. Clenching her fists, she vowed,

“I will wash away this disgrace. Live well until then, Pei Xiunian.”