Chapter Twenty-Five: The Slumbering Fox Awakens
The banquet lasted until midnight before Pei Xiunian, supported by Xiao Qin, finally left the grand hall. A thin layer of snow had already gathered on the eaves, casting a hazy white glow before their eyes. Xiao Qin unfurled an oil-paper umbrella, and, escorted by Prince Qi’s personal guards, the two walked step by step into a familiar side courtyard, where the fish in the pond still swam as before.
Inside, the same weapons and armor hung on the lacquered red pillars—everything was just as it had been upon their first arrival. Xiao Qin carefully secured the door, intending to brew a cup of aged tangerine peel tea to ease Pei Xiunian’s drunkenness, only to notice that the flush had long since faded from his cheeks, his gaze now sharp and penetrating.
Only then did Xiao Qin remember his cultivation; yet… could someone really dispel so much alcohol in a mere instant? Perhaps this was what it meant to be truly gifted…
She instinctively bowed her head slightly, confirmed they were alone, and then asked in a low voice, “Your Highness, how did the discussion go?”
Pei Xiunian exhaled slowly, then smiled as he drew two talisman slips from his sleeve, placing them calmly on the table. “It’s done.”
Xiao Qin infused a trace of true energy into the talismans, listened for a moment, and then frowned, murmuring, “Who would have thought that the massacre at the Cao Family Manor was personally orchestrated by Prince Qi—a prince feeding demons, a truly explosive revelation. But… Your Highness, it was clearly you who destroyed the manor. Why is the heir blaming the second prince?”
Pei Xiunian’s recording captured only the crucial moments; it was reasonable that the young maid did not understand. He took out the earlier reflective talisman, pointed at the poisoned sword depicted upon it, and asked, “What if the order of the assassination and my destruction of the Cao Family Manor were switched?”
This was simply a matter of breaking free from fixed thinking and changing perspective. Xiao Qin immediately grasped the idea and clapped her hands in admiration.
She hurried to brew tea for Pei Xiunian and, after a moment’s hesitation, asked cautiously, “Does Your Highness now intend to align with Prince Qi? He holds considerable power at court, even as a prince of a different surname…”
Pei Xiunian took the steaming tea, blew gently upon it, and replied, “A prince who would feed demons… it’s clear he regards human life as nothing. The prince, seeing the winter’s first heavy snow, rejoiced at the omen of an abundant year. Yet, does he know whether the common folk outside the city—like that mother and daughter we passed in their threadbare clothing—can survive this winter? I can save one pair, but if I wish to shelter all the suffering poor under heaven, I am not yet strong enough.”
“To submit to Prince Qi… He now feeds demons openly with human lives. Would my allegiance lessen the crimes he commits, like those at the Cao Family Manor?”
He sipped the tea, fragrant and warm against his throat, and continued distantly, “The struggle for the throne is perilous, and blood will inevitably be spilled in the court and beyond. If possible, I hope it will not be the blood of the people. Now that my influence is rising, perhaps we can find a better path.”
Xiao Qin, folding clothes, was momentarily dazed by his words. Whether it was his repeated use of “we,” his concern for the people, or the fact they had now embarked on the rightful path to contest the throne, she felt a sudden sense of relief. In a soft voice, she asked, “Your Highness, though we may set tigers and wolves against each other for now, they will one day realize the scheme. To avoid long nights fraught with dreams, we must urgently seek a patron powerful enough to contend with both sides. There are few such figures at court… It will be a long and arduous road.”
Pei Xiunian waved the talisman slips with a smile. “When snipe and clam struggle, the fisherman profits. I imagine that fisherman will be very pleased with my token of allegiance.”
The recording was indeed enough to shake the court, but shock alone would not suffice to convict a prince. It was an excellent token of allegiance, but there must be someone bold enough to accept it, to impeach a prince, and strong enough to overshadow Prince Qi.
Such figures were rare in all of Great Zhou.
Xiao Qin blinked, about to ask more, but Pei Xiunian declared resolutely, “The one I wish to pledge myself to is—the Empress Dowager.”
Xiao Qin’s hands faltered as she was tidying clothes; her brocade robe slipped a few inches, her pupils quivering as she stammered, “Your Highness… why choose the Empress Dowager?”
“It was she who shielded me during the assassination at the relay station.”
This reason alone was not quite sufficient. If the Empress Dowager was testing him, Pei Xiunian was also scrutinizing her. The wise bird chooses its tree. If the Empress Dowager proved not to be a worthy leader, he still held a backup talisman for negotiation.
Cradling his teacup, Pei Xiunian stood. The tea had cooled, blue smoke curled in the room, and outside, the thin snow on the glazed tiles had already melted, dripping softly from the eaves.
Xiao Qin stood with her back to him, lost in thought, her hands unconsciously gripping the clothes.
After a long silence, Pei Xiunian walked to the bedside, sat down, and began to undress, saying casually, “Let’s settle it for now. By the time the capital’s envoy arrives, they could reach Hangzhou tonight. Come morning, we’ll meet them, and the return to the capital will be secure.”
He patted Xiao Qin on the shoulder. “You should rest early, too.”
She nodded gently, murmured her assent, and as the lamp was extinguished, silence enveloped the world, the only light in the room the faint blue moonlight seeping through the lattice window.
———
The twenty-fifth of the ninth month, the beginning of winter.
Tu Mountain, Qingqiu, deep into the night.
By the calendar, true winter had only just begun, but the land of Qingqiu was always colder than Great Zhou. Su Zhiqiu stood atop the Jade Tower, her fox eyes reflecting the brilliance below.
The distant mountains and fields were bathed in snow. White light blanketed the undulating peaks without end, stretching to the horizon like a colossal beast lying across the world.
Suddenly, there was a soft hiss at her wrist. She glanced down and realized the restraints on her hands and feet had been lifted.
Joyfully, she moved toward the great door, which was emitting mechanical clicks as it opened, and called out in surprise, “Mother?”
Was her confinement over?
Having been sequestered atop the tower for so long, Su Zhiqiu had lost track of time; this did seem a bit early.
The princess of Qingqiu poked her head out, her furry fox ears pricked upright. The long, dark corridor yielded neither figure nor reply.
She ceased calling and walked barefoot down the stairs, light-footed and cheerful. Truth be told, she and the demon queen shared little real affection—much like the human emperors and their princes…
At least humans had blood ties; the fox demons of Qingqiu were not even born of the womb, so there were no bonds of kinship at all.
Thinking this, she mused—what meaning do brotherhood or sisterhood have here? Simply because they are all foxes?
Perhaps it was for the best; when conflict arose, there were no complicated feelings to contend with.
Her bare feet touched the cold stone steps as she let her thoughts wander. After days cooped up in her room without anyone to talk to, she felt terribly stifled.
She hopped down the last step and exited the Jade Tower, where the royal family of Qingqiu was sent for reflection. Outside stood a line of fox demons—none but those of royal blood; no other creatures were present.
Su Zhiqiu’s heart trembled. Was this because Jin Xia had attacked? Or had some matter been settled with Great Zhou?
She stood barefoot in the snow, her feet reddened by the cold, yet she forced herself to remain calm, hands clasped behind her back, and smiled: “Why is it so lively tonight? All my royal brothers and sisters have gathered—have you come to welcome me back?”
The crown prince replied coolly, “Sister, Mother asks you to see the Celestial Master. The Celestial Master is waking.”
Su Zhiqiu’s face changed dramatically. The Celestial Master’s retreats often lasted months—sometimes half a year. For him to awaken after just a few days was unheard of.
The Celestial Master held supreme authority in Qingqiu, capable of perceiving the past and future. Whether he could discern if the third prince was a substitute, no one could say.
As she stood there, stunned, a faint tremor rose beneath her feet. Ethereal chants, like the toll of ancient bells, echoed as a colossal form shifted among the mountains—a fox of immense size, its fur as white as snow, a living mountain.
“The Celestial Master is awake…”