Chapter One

He Hui was deeply anxious at that moment.

Only a short while earlier, she had suddenly realized that on this pitch-dark little boat, there was another living being besides herself.

At first, she thought a rat had accidentally crept in. She untied her pouch, took out the medicine inside, and scattered it around. The pungent scent of realgar immediately filled the cramped cabin, making her choke and cough before she could even see any effect; she clamped her mouth and nose and retreated into a corner.

“Grandfather Rat, please don’t blame me. I mean you no harm. Stay away from me, and we’ll both be safe.”

A faint creak sounded in the cabin, but it was only the boat’s timbers shifting, not the squeal she expected from a rat.

Back home, her village was often troubled by rats. She knew their ways well; few rats could remain silent when realgar was thrown their way. Sensing something amiss, she belatedly recalled—

This was the Royal Western Garden. How could there be rats?

If a rat ever showed its nose, the cats kept in the palace’s cattery would descend in a pack and devour it on the spot.

So the question remained: if it wasn’t a rat, what on earth was it?

Realizing the presence of something unknown and unfamiliar, a cold sweat broke out on He Hui’s forehead.

Could it be a ghost?

There were no lamps in the cabin; it was pitch black. She was night-blind by nature, unable to see a thing. The other occupant remained utterly silent. An oppressive, terrifying silence filled the space, and cold sweat poured down her temples.

In her life, apart from once kicking her younger brother’s backside, she had never committed a single misdeed. She really had no reason for a ghost to haunt her.

Her fear conjured memories of ghost tales she had read as a child, where every ghost was blue-faced and fanged, terrifying in form. If entangled by one, the best outcome was to be sucked dry, the worst to have her soul scattered. Her legs began to tremble uncontrollably, and she instinctively reached for the curtain to escape.

But the moment her hand grasped the fabric, she hesitated, the consequences of fleeing now rushing to her mind. She shakily drew her hand back.

She could not afford to be caught.

She had to stay in the palace, win the Prince of Ning’s favor, and become his consort.

Even if he did not care for her.

Lost in these thoughts, she was suddenly startled by a faint, almost inaudible chuckle from within the cabin—a sound like thunder in the oppressive silence of night.

She was not alone with a ghost, but a man.

A man.

The darkness robbed her of sight, and the distance muffled her hearing, but she could still sense that his voice was pleasant, like a clear spring cascading over stones, yet with a richness that imposed itself unmistakably—a natural air of authority.

Yes, authority.

The pressure she felt was not from the dark, but from this man’s presence.

“Realgar powder?”

Suddenly, the man spoke again.

He Hui’s mind was still clouded with confusion. She responded instinctively, “What?”

“That stuff you scattered over me.”

Only then did she recall what she’d done. She nodded, “Yes, I mistook you for a rat.”

She was never good with words and did not know how to apologize. The man, perhaps angered, fell silent.

The oppressive quiet returned, more unnerving than before.

To He Hui, a man from the palace was more frightening than any rat or ghost.

She struggled to keep her voice steady. “Who are you?”

He ignored her.

“Are you a eunuch? Or one of the Embroidered Guards?” Apart from the Prince of Ning, only these two types of men ever crossed her path in the palace.

It was the Embroidered Guards who brought her to the palace: tall, imposing men in ornate uniforms embroidered with strange patterns she had never seen. Later, Yao Zhu had told her those were called ‘flying fish robes’—not for common folk.

Since entering the palace, she had not seen anyone wearing those robes again. They must remain at the outskirts, barred from the inner courts.

As for the eunuchs, she saw them every day.

Those men had all suffered the knife to enter the palace. Their voices and appearances were different from ordinary folk. Take Steward Feng Qing of Prince Ning’s household, for example—over fifty, like her own father, but his face was smooth and pale, not a whisker on his chin.

Most eunuchs had high, sharp voices, utterly unlike the man before her.

Uncertain of his identity, He Hui’s unease grew. She murmured, “Whoever you are, pretend you never saw me tonight, all right?”

Perhaps her pitiful tone softened him. At last, he deigned to speak, though he did not answer her question directly. Instead, he said, “If you want to hide from others, stay quiet.”

He Hui listened carefully and finally caught his meaning, her heart filling with wonder.

This man was truly sharp, discerning her predicament with just a few words, even without seeing her.

No wonder her father always said that people in the palace had ten pairs of eyes and twenty ears, more spirit than human. Tonight, she believed it.

Sensing he meant her no harm, He Hui relaxed a little and fell silent.

After a moment of familiar stillness, hurried and orderly footsteps approached from the shore—eunuchs making their rounds at night.

“Maybe you drank too much and imagined things in the daylight.”

“Don’t spout nonsense! I was born with sharp eyes—how could I be mistaken? Even if you doubt me, can you doubt Lady Wang? She saw someone enter the garden herself!”

Their conversation drifted over the water. He Hui listened, frozen in place, hands clenched tight.

She didn’t recognize those outside, but the mention of ‘Lady Wang’ made her pause.

She didn’t know if it was the same Wang she knew, but perhaps it was just a common surname. After all, she had lost her way tonight while trying to help Lady Wang search for a missing bracelet.

Lady Wang had said the bracelet was a gift from the Lady of Virtue, and if lost, her life would be forfeit.

It was a matter of life and death; He Hui dared not be careless and searched along the palace walls. But as dusk fell, she could scarcely make out even the color of the walls, let alone a bracelet.

When she finally heard the distant shouts of people searching for someone, she realized something was wrong.

She must have violated some palace taboo and was about to be dragged off to the imperial prison.

Once in prison, her hopes of becoming Consort to Prince Ning would be crushed forever.

In her panic, she spotted a little boat moored by the edge of Taiye Pond and slipped aboard.

She had thought that, with no one in sight, the searchers would soon leave. But their footsteps drew ever nearer, as if they would lift the curtain and drag her out at any moment.

In that split second, the little boat began to move, drifting quickly away from shore.

He Hui jerked her head up. The boat rocked in the darkness, so quietly that she could not tell if it was truly moving or if she was dreaming.

She sat there dazed for a long time before saying, “Don’t go too far. I don’t know my way around here.”

If they went too far, how would she get back?

The man seemed to pause, then the boat slowed and gently came to a stop.

He Hui was puzzled. She couldn’t see a thing, yet she could feel his gaze on her.

It was as if he were studying a small creature, curious and amused.

The palace servants had noticed the boat and were calling for them to return.

He Hui bit her lip, staring into the darkness toward the man. Her voice trembled, “I was wrong. You row, I’ll pay you. Just don’t turn me in.”

She reached into her pouch but found it empty.

She had forgotten—her few pieces of silver from home were long gone.

He Hui grew flustered. “I’ll pay you next time. What’s your name? Where do you serve? I’ll come find you.”

The cabin was silent. He didn’t answer.

On the verge of tears, she pleaded, “I mean it. Please believe me.”

“Where to?” he finally asked, after a long silence.

He Hui’s heart leapt. “Shouming Hall,” she replied quickly.

He asked no further questions.

The boat began to move again, drifting across Taiye Pond. In the distance, the opera on Qionghua Island continued. The music was graceful and delicate, clear and melodious. Drums beat, the actors sang, and the story tugged at the heart:

“In the evening, in high spirits, with a sash of cool air and wine just waking. The dragon robe loosened, the phoenix belt askew...”

“It’s Lady Yang in the Hall of Longevity, praying for skill and hosting a banquet.”

“How the beauties cluster, their makeup flawless...”

He Hui hugged her knees in the corner, not knowing what was being sung, only feeling the magical pull of the melody, captivating her. By the time she came to herself, the boat had already reached the shore.

Lifting the curtain, she saw several familiar palace lanterns standing quietly beneath the wall, their lights flickering as palace servants hurried by.

This man had truly brought her to the gates of Shouming Hall.

“Aren’t you going?” The man’s voice was light and indistinct in the night.

She must have met a good man. Grateful, she asked his name once more.

“Must you know?”

He Hui nodded, “I promised to pay you.”

He seemed amused, a gentle laugh drifting through the night like feathers, tickling her ears.

“Next time,” he said. “When we meet again, I’ll tell you.”

He Hui assumed he must be assigned to the boats; finding him again should be easy. She nodded, “All right.”

She lifted the curtain, and after a moment’s thought, turned back to reassure him once more, “I really will pay you.”

Whether he heard or not, the boat began to turn.

He Hui, flustered, leapt ashore and disappeared swiftly around the palace wall by the faint candlelight.

An incense stick’s time later, the boat docked again before Wanshou Palace.

Once all was quiet, there was a stir above the deck—someone was still there.

This man was short and slightly stooped. He entered the cabin, moonlight at his back, drew a fire-striker from a rosewood box, and lit a candle, carefully covering it with a clear glass shade.

Instantly, the cabin was as bright as day. Candlelight cast deep shadows over the sharp, noble features of the man resting inside.

“Master.”

The man slowly opened his eyes, pupils dark as midnight, cold and commanding.

Onshore, dozens of people gathered by the water, eyes fixed intently on the boat that bobbed with the waves, poised for action.

“Young lady, you are a person of some standing. I advise you to come out yourself, lest we have to fetch you and all lose face.”

At the front, Li Mingfu called in a loud voice, hands tucked into his sleeves, adopting a leisurely, persuasive air.

But, unexpectedly, the boat was utterly still.

Li Mingfu frowned.

The Lady Shen was known for being dull and ignorant—could she have been frightened witless inside?

He called again.

Still no response.

Li Mingfu’s patience was at its end. He gestured to his men, “Pardon us, young lady.”

A young servant leapt aboard and flung back the curtain—only to stagger back in terror, nearly falling into the pond.

Li Mingfu kicked him hard, spitting, “Useless fool! Scared by a ghost in there?”

He marched up himself to drag the person out, but when he saw the figure within the cabin, his face turned ashen, and it felt as if the sky was collapsing. With a thud, he fell to his knees.

“Your... Your Highness!”