nashuaworldcup Chapter 522
Chapter 522
A celadon cup shattered on the blue bricks, startling the pigeons perched on the beams into flight. Dongfang Wan'er seized the opportunity to look out the window, only to see that the morning star had already sunk extremely low, almost touching the eaves of Weiyang Palace. In the distance came the sound of horses' hooves, like the tolling of morning bells and evening drums, coming from the direction of the East Palace, as orderly as the drumbeats at a funeral.
"Don't believe anything?" The Regent's voice turned cold, and the jade ring tapped crisply on the candlestick, startling General Li's sword tassel at his waist. Dongfang Wan'er noticed the dark pattern peeking out from his cuff—the auspicious crane carrying a lingzhi fungus pattern exclusive to the Crown Prince's palace—and her heart skipped a beat.
“Don’t believe… incense ash.” She bent down to pick up a shard of porcelain, her fingertips touching a bloodstained fragment. The shape of the bloodstain was exactly the same as the pattern of the stone bricks at the entrance to the secret passage in the Imperial Study last night. She suddenly remembered that her mother had said before she died that when camphor and benzoin were burned together, secret characters would appear in the ash—and the sachet at the Regent’s waist was now emitting a faint scent of benzoin.
A sudden commotion erupted outside the hall. It was the voice of the Imperial Guard Commander: "Reporting to the Regent, the Eastern Palace..." Before he could finish, a muffled thud cut him off. Dongfang Wan'er clutched the broken porcelain shards tightly. Blood seeping from her palms mixed with tea stains, drawing winding lines on the blue bricks, much like the legendary map of the secret passage beneath Taiye Pond.
The Regent abruptly rose, the scroll of the will sweeping the inkstone off the table. Thick ink splashed onto the blue bricks, instantly turning the bloodstains on her palms a deep purple, like a blooming plum blossom. "Go see," he said, the wind from his flicking sleeve extinguishing the last flickering lamp. The hall was plunged into a brief darkness, except for the silver hairpin's filigree butterfly in Dongfang Wan'er's sleeve, which glowed with a ghostly blue phosphorescence in the dim light—it was a glow-in-the-dark powder her mother had secretly prepared using oil from South China Sea mermaids, said to illuminate the mechanisms in secret passages.
As everyone rushed out of the hall, Dongfang Wan'er deliberately lagged behind by half a step, lightly tapping the beak of the bronze crane incense burner with her fingertips. With a soft "click," a roll of silk paper as fine as a hair fell out of the crane's belly. She quickly picked it up and hid it in her sleeve, but when she touched the raised patterns on the silk paper, she was startled—it was a map marking thirty-six secret passages in the inner palace, one of which was right behind the sandalwood wardrobe in her own palace.
"Miss Wan'er, why aren't you leaving yet?" General Li's voice rang out behind her, tinged with wariness. Dongfang Wan'er turned around and saw the gilded beast head on his armor facing her, its eyes wide open, as if trying to see right through her. She suddenly remembered that this general's deputy had appeared in the plum grove of the Imperial Garden last night, which was the very scene of the late emperor's assassination attempt.
"You've arrived," she replied softly, the map in her sleeve digging into her forearm, yet strangely calming her. As she stepped out of the palace gates, the rising sun finally leaped over the roof ornaments, casting her slender, sword-like shadow on the steps. The morning star had vanished from the horizon, replaced by a sky ablaze with fiery red, yet tinged with an eerie purple, much like the blood-soaked walls of the inner palace.
The Regent stood below the steps, whispering to the Commander of the Imperial Guards. Dongfang Wan'er noticed that he still held the scroll of the imperial edict between his fingers; the golden dragon-patterned lines along the edges trembled gently in the wind, like a giant dragon about to awaken. She touched the gilded sachet in her bosom, her fingers brushing against the half-finished tiger tally hidden within. Suddenly, she remembered how the late Emperor, before his death, had coughed up blood and written the character "忍" (ren, meaning forbearance) on her palm with his fingertip—now, it seemed, how many of the officials in the court truly understood the weight of that word?
A loud cracking sound came from the distant Taiye Pond, startling a flock of white cranes. Dongfang Wan'er watched them take flight into the sky, and suddenly remembered her mother's words: "In this palace, what the eyes see may not be true, what the ears hear may not be false, only one's own heart is the most reliable compass." She took a deep breath, letting the cold wind fill her lungs, washing away the sweetness of the camphor and the spiciness of the gunpowder smoke.
Where the morning star fell, the outline of the Weiyang Palace gradually became clear. Dongfang Wan'er knew that the real game had just begun. She touched the map and jade pendant in her sleeve, then touched the scroll of secret paper she had obtained from the bronze crane incense burner. Suddenly, a stinging pain shot through her fingertips—the mark left by the poisoned needles on the secret passage's mechanism. But she neither flinched nor flinched; instead, she gripped the objects even tighter.
As the wind swept past the steps of the palace, carrying the remaining snow, she gazed at her shadow in the morning light and suddenly felt that the shadow was no longer a slender sword, but a white chrysanthemum rooted in the frozen soil—its stem thin, yet able to stand against the wind, and sure to bloom with the purest fragrance in the spring of the following year.
The Regent suddenly turned around, his gaze meeting hers. Dongfang Wan'er smiled gently, a smile that concealed three parts respect, two parts aloofness, and five parts unfathomable depth. Like the silken butterfly in her sleeve, its wings opening and closing concealed secrets that no one else could ever know.
The morning bell finally rang, its first strike startling the last icicle from the eaves. Dongfang Wan'er followed the crowd, listening to the clinking of armor and jade pendants, and suddenly remembered a story she had heard as a child: There was a shadow puppeteer who could carve shadow puppets that could move on their own, because he hid a grain of cinnabar in the heart of each puppet—it was ground from his own blood, so although the puppets had no soul, they could feel joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness like living people.
At this moment, wasn't she also a "skin doll" hiding cinnabar? Except, her cinnabar wasn't blood, but a silver hairpin left by her mother, the late emperor's secret edict on his deathbed, and the half of a jade pendant engraved with the character "Ning" in her sleeve. These things were like sharp blades, which could be weapons to stab enemies, or they could be sharp blades to cut herself, but she had no other choice.
As the sun rose higher, it bathed the entire Forbidden City in gold. Dongfang Wan'er looked up and saw the mythical beast Chiwen (a mythical creature believed to ward off evil spirits) gleaming solemnly in the sunlight, as if surveying all living beings. She knew that beneath this seemingly magnificent palace lay countless undercurrents and whirlpools, but she was prepared—like a white chrysanthemum swaying in the cold wind yet never falling, she would carve out her own path in this cannibalistic harem and court.
The morning star has already fallen, but the stars belonging to Dongfang Wan'er are just beginning to twinkle in the pre-dawn sky. She gently touched the silver hairpin in her sleeve, the luminous powder on the butterfly wings shimmering in the sunlight, like the burning belief in her heart—one day, this faint light will illuminate the entire darkness, exposing all the truths hidden in the shadows to the light of day.