Chapter Twelve

Inside the Hall of Perpetual Life, the banquet was at its height, while outside the ground had already been covered in a blanket of pure white snow.

I could no longer see the jade steps below—only the thickening snow, whipped about by the fierce wind sweeping across the sky. Even sitting inside the hall, my hands and feet felt ice-cold. He had left without a cloak—how could he endure kneeling outside in such a storm?

The laughter and conversation at the tables were livelier than usual. Everyone was likely trying to cover up the awkwardness. Several uncles spoke with unusual warmth, repeatedly engaging the Crown Prince as though they were close brothers. Yongtai had been summoned to sit beside the Emperor; she looked listless, but at least she still knew to flatter the Empress Dowager. No one remained at my side—only palace maids came and went, replacing the hot tea.

“The snow in Luoyang is falling heavily,” Wan’er said as she carried a cup of wine over and sat beside me. “Tomorrow the Emperor will go to Fengxian Temple to offer incense. Tonight, many people will likely stay up all night clearing the snow from the Buddha niches.”

I gave a soft response but said nothing further.

She reached out and smoothed my hair. “This punishment is already the lightest.”

I looked up at her and asked quietly, “If it were heavier, what would it be?”

Wan’er paused, then answered in a low voice, “Beaten to death.”

My hand trembled slightly. I stared at her, unable to speak. How could an imperial grandson be treated like that?

Wan’er curled her lips slightly. “I’m not trying to scare you. I was truly prepared for that.”

I waited silently for her to continue.

After a moment, she spoke again, her voice even softer. “That day, when I told you Li Longji caused a scene at Fengyang Gate and the Emperor was pleased, I didn’t understand why. But now I do.”

Hearing this, I thought it over, but only grew more confused. Given Great-Grandmother’s usual treatment of her sons, if the Prince of Linzi had openly defied palace rules and even spoken of “the Li family’s dynasty,” she should not have spared him. It was strange. Had I been thinking too simply all along?

Wan’er took a sip of wine, studied my expression, and sighed. “What does it mean when an eight-year-old can say something like that? It means his father taught him. It means his father still clings to the idea of the Li dynasty.”

My hand tightened. With those few words, everything suddenly became clear.

So that day’s incident had actually been an act of favor—it should have been a capital offense. In the Great Zhou, who would dare speak of the Li dynasty? Especially the Crown Prince, who held power in name only—such thoughts could be considered treason.

It wasn’t that there would be no punishment. It was that the punishment was meant for his father, not Li Longji.

“So Great-Grandmother intends to use today to…” I began, but stopped when Wan’er gave me a look.

She nodded slightly. “It’s very possible. And with Princess Taiping absent from the capital, no one can truly speak for him.”

So Li Chengqi had stepped forward. So he had claimed that his younger brother had only repeated his own words and taken all the blame upon himself.

Had he already foreseen this from the beginning?

The thought made my hands tremble. Wan’er poured me a cup of wine and gestured for me to drink.

“How long do you think the snow will last?” she said, raising her voice slightly. “Look at you—you’re freezing. Have a drink.”

I responded absentmindedly and drank it in one go. The burning liquid slid down my throat, making my vision blur. When I wiped my eyes, I saw Wan’er shaking her head with a smile.

She tapped my forehead lightly. “If you fall for someone from the Li family, you can’t be so soft-hearted.”

“It’s just the wine,” I muttered.

She didn’t press further and instead chatted with me about Fengxian Temple. The alcohol steadied my thoughts somewhat. If what Wan’er said was true, then this punishment was already the lightest outcome. But… would Great-Grandmother stop here? Or would she continue testing the Crown Prince?

The Crown Prince still wore his usual expression, calmly discussing poetry with my uncles. Li Longji sat quietly, neither eating nor drinking. Yongtai went to speak to him, but he ignored her.

“He’s still a child,” I said softly. “He can’t hide his feelings.”

Wan’er shook her head. “That’s better. If he pretended nothing was wrong, anyone with eyes would know something truly was.”

I stared at my teacup, a dull ache forming in my head. After glancing at the heavy snow outside, I said, “I’ll go back first.”

Wan’er nodded. “Go ahead.”

I looked at Li Longji once more, then rose and approached the Emperor, explaining that I had been out in the wind earlier and had drunk wine, so I felt unwell. The Empress Dowager asked a few questions, then allowed me to leave.

At the entrance, a palace maid draped my cloak over my shoulders, tied the sash, and escorted me out.

The vast Taichu Palace was already blurred, swallowed by endless white snow. I had read countless poems about snow, yet not a single line came to mind.

Between heaven and earth, there was only that solitary figure kneeling before the hall.

He knelt there, straight-backed, his clear eyes gazing through the curtain of snow—quietly watching me.

The palace attendants had taken shelter inside due to the storm. Step by step, I descended the stairs. Within moments, my shoes were soaked through.

There were only a dozen steps between me and him.

I instinctively stepped forward—but he shook his head slightly.

My heart jolted, and I stopped.

If I had gone over, no one would have noticed. We had been together at the Imperial Academy earlier—visiting him now would have been understandable.

My thoughts wavered, and I took two more steps forward.

He brushed the snow from his face, looked at me gently, and shook his head again.

In his dark eyes, there was resolve—and warning.

We stood there, silently watching each other. Gradually, the hope in my chest faded, leaving only a faint ache and the lingering burn of wine in my throat.

I drew a deep breath, tightened my cloak, and turned away.

After a few dozen steps, I nearly slipped, but I didn’t dare look back.

—

When I returned to the palace, Yiping had already been waiting for a long time. She hurriedly removed my cloak, shaking off the snow, and kept asking whether I had enjoyed the day, whether anything interesting had happened.

I said nothing.

I let her help me change, then lay down on the bed, staring blankly ahead.

Outside, she quietly gave instructions—adjusting the brazier, preparing breakfast for the next day. Though her voice was soft, I heard everything clearly.

That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

Several times I thought of sending Yiping to inquire about him, but I stopped myself each time.

—

Because of the snowfall, dawn came under a heavy darkness.

Yiping entered and lit a lamp. She was about to speak when she suddenly exclaimed, “Princess, you’ve broken out in a rash again!”

Startled, I touched my face and remembered the wine from last night. I gave a bitter smile. “Not a rash—just a reaction to alcohol.”

“Shall I call the imperial physician?” she asked.

I thought for a moment. “Yes—quickly.”

Today we were to go to Fengxian Temple. If it worsened on the way, it would be troublesome.

She hurried out, and when she returned, Shen Qiu followed behind her.

There was still frost at the edge of his hair, but he smiled warmly as he bowed. “The Princess truly has many ailments.”

I sighed helplessly. “It’s just from drinking. There’s no need for the Imperial Physician to come personally.”

He shook his head, his eyes bright. “You’re mistaken. Alcohol reactions can be dangerous—severe cases can be fatal. How could I not come?”

Yiping brought tea, but he ignored it. Instead, he said, “This requires a quiet examination. No one else should be present.”

Sensing his odd manner, I signaled Yiping to leave.

After the curtain fell, he cleared his throat. “If I’m treating someone else, I naturally have to be thorough.”

I frowned, confused, but didn’t press him.

After a moment, he said casually, “It seems the Princess isn’t very concerned about that person. Then I won’t trouble myself further.”

I froze.

As I extended my hand for him to take my pulse, realization struck.

“Who are you talking about?” I asked.

He lowered his gaze, ignoring me.

My certainty grew—it had to be Li Chengqi. Just as I was about to pull my hand away, he released it.

“Nothing serious,” he said lightly. “Just an old condition. You should avoid alcohol in the future.”

I stared at him.

He cleared his throat. “Have you remembered who I meant?”

That confirmed it.

“Is the Prince of Yongping still kneeling?” I asked urgently.

“Of course not,” he replied. “After kneeling all night, the Emperor relented and had him carried to the Imperial Medical Bureau. I’ve just examined him.”

The word “carried” made my heart tighten.

“Is it serious?” I asked.

He smiled. “He’s young. Just exhaustion from the cold. A few days of rest will suffice. I was about to write a prescription when your maid dragged me here.”

“Then you should go back quickly,” I urged.

He sighed. “I can’t. The prince ordered me to treat you first. If I don’t, how could I return?”