Chapter 79
Proofreader : Mim
The waters of the Qianli Pond froze and thawed, the carp nibbling at the spring ripples.
Spring winds carried time forward, and Li Zhi watched as Lu Yao’s belly grew larger day by day.
Aside from her expanding belly, Lu Yao hadn’t changed much in appearance. Only Li Zhi could tell that, in private, the youthful naivety on her face was fading with each passing day.
Meanwhile, the struggle between Prince Feng and Prince Jing had intensified, their proxy battles on the court becoming commonplace. Xie Lanxu, having intervened a few times, had become a central figure in opposing Prince Jing’s faction.
The court was a storm of political maneuvers, but the harem remained relatively calm.
Though Lu Yao lacked experience, she was sharp and had the support of Li Zhi and Chunmei. Together, they helped her dodge several overt and covert threats.
Emperor Xie Shencong, eagerly anticipated the birth of the dragon heir. The imperial harem had gone years without a new child, so he was particularly invested in this pregnancy. He not only sent several scheming concubines to the cold palace but also ordered the construction of a temple outside the capital, dedicated to praying for the safe delivery of the royal child.
Time flowed like water, and as spring gave way to summer, the palace’s crape myrtle trees burst into vibrant purple blooms, spreading like clouds across the gardens.
Palace attendants bustled under the violet canopies, preparing for the upcoming Qixi Banquet.
As Li Zhi left her office after finishing her duties, she passed through the palace corridors. Along the way, every servant she encountered bowed and greeted her with respect.
Li Zhi could call each of them by name.
Their lives, habits, and even secrets were etched into her mind.
When she walked through the palace, she was the approachable senior official. When issuing orders from behind her desk, she was the unyielding head of the Palace Administration Bureau. And in the bureau’s prison, interrogating suspects, she was a sharp-eyed investigator who could see straight into a person’s soul.
Among the leaders of the Six Bureaus and One Office, Li Zhi was the youngest and least experienced, yet she was the most enigmatic.
As head of the Palace Administration Bureau, no rumor in the harem escaped her ears.
She knew how others talked about her. Some said she relied on the Emperor’s favor. Others whispered that she clung to Consort Lu’s influence. Still others speculated that she had a secret alliance with Prince Langya. The most outlandish rumor claimed that she had been educated in politics by the late Grand Chancellor, her father.
People were always like this when it came to women, Li Zhi realized.
In their eyes, a woman’s success was never her own. It was always attributed to the help of the living or the blessings of the dead.
The world Li Zhi lived in was undoubtedly very different from the fantastical land of Shu her late mother, Madam Qin, had once described to her.
In her quieter moments, Li Zhi often wondered what caused such differences between the two worlds.
One evening, she shared this question with Xie Lanxu during one of his visits.
The days had grown warmer, and the house was always stocked with ice buckets filled with winter-stored ice. Xie Lanxu, who disliked heat, refused to endure less than four ice buckets in her room whenever he visited.
He would rather lounge on the same luohan bed as her than sit separately, despite the oppressive summer heat.
Half-reclining on the luohan bed, his arm loosely draped around her waist, Xie Lanxu held a rare book he’d acquired from some unknown source. As he read, he responded absentmindedly to her musings:
“Would you spend time pondering the things you’ve bought? Objects just need to be pretty, nothing more.”
“Then why didn’t you treat me like one of those objects?” Li Zhi couldn’t help but ask.
Xie Lanxu lowered the book and looked at her, his lips curving into a teasing smile.
“Is there any ‘object’ out there that can manage the Palace Administration Bureau as well as you?”
In that moment, Li Zhi experienced a moment of clarity.
To be seen, one must first earn respect. To be acknowledged as an equal, one must first be recognized as a rival.
If only the Yan Dynasty could open the path for women to study and take the imperial exams, she thought.
But she knew that, for now, such dreams were as far-fetched as building castles in the air.
A few days later, a letter from Mingyue Tower lifted her spirits.
When she had first returned to the capital, Li Zhi had approached Zhen Qiao, a former exile leader, and paid him a hefty sum. Now, six months later, Zhen Qiao had finally reached Mingyue Tower and sent back a reply.
The letter stated that he had located the remains of Li Xiang, Li Huizhi, and Madam Zhu, and had placed them in coffins. He had also recovered the remaining fragments of Shendan’s body. In about four months, he would escort the coffins back to the capital.
Overjoyed by the news, Li Zhi immediately summoned Li Cien and Li Xiangsheng to share it with them.
Li Xiangsheng, now serving under Xie Lanxu, naturally brought Prince Langya along with him. As a result, Xie Lanxu appeared at her home without invitation, as if it were only natural.
Li Zhi had Jia He fetch food from a renowned restaurant in the city, gathering everyone around a circular table for a lavish feast.
Li Cien’s eyes widened at the sight of the extravagant meal.
“Sister Li Zhi, is today a special occasion?”
Li Zhi smiled and shared the good news from Mingyue Tower.
Li Cien squealed with joy, leaping up to hug her brother. But as she laughed, her emotions overwhelmed her, and she buried her face in Li Xiangsheng’s shoulder, sobbing.
Watching her, Li Zhi’s thoughts drifted to the long days and nights of their exile. Her chest tightened with a bittersweet ache.
Around the table, everyone seemed to share the same mixed feelings.
The original Li family estate had its ancestral tombs. But after the fall of Grand Chancellor Li Qiaonian, the family tombs had been vandalized by those harboring grudges. It was Li Qiantong, an uncle who had long since split from the main family, who had contributed funds to restore the site.
Li Zhi planned to expand the cemetery near the original burial ground to create a new resting place for those who had perished during their exile.
Bringing back the coffins of Madam Zhu and the others felt like lifting a boulder off the hearts of Li Xiangsheng and Li Cien.
Around the circular table, Li Cien was more lively than usual, and even Li Xiangsheng had a rare trace of a smile on his face.
After the meal, everyone tactfully excused themselves, leaving only Li Zhi and Xie Lanxu sitting across from each other.
“A round of chess?” Xie Lanxu raised an eyebrow.
“Bring it on,” Li Zhi replied.
The two of them quickly agreed, retreating to the side room in the east courtyard to set up the chessboard.
Before long, they were deeply immersed in the match, thoroughly enjoying the battle of wits.
Jia Sui, observing the two of them, couldn’t help but smile. She quietly slid open the paper window facing the bed, added more ice to the buckets scattered around the room, and tiptoed out.
“Thanks for playing—”
Li Zhi beamed as she scooped up a line of black pieces, the sound crisp as they clattered into the basket.
“Shameless fruit,” Xie Lanxu said coldly, refusing to acknowledge her victory.
“If I’m a shameless fruit, then you’re a petty fish,” Li Zhi retorted with a laugh.
[Note: Reminder that Li Zhi’s name is a homophone for lychee (lì zhī), a fruit. Meanwhile, the Li in Ah-Li is the same Li as in carp (lǐ yú) or koi (jǐn lǐ). Hence, shameless fruit and petty fish.]
Neither of them had ever studied chess formally. Two amateurs playing together, they delighted in inventing new rules as they went—rules so absurd that they would leave a chess master gaping in disbelief.
The key to winning was to trip up the opponent with these ever-changing rules.
In the back-and-forth exchanges, Li Zhi rediscovered the simple joy she had once shared with her siblings, Li Xiang and Li Huizhi.
Her smile gradually faded.
“What’s wrong?” Xie Lanxu glanced at her casually.
“I was just thinking… if only they were still here,” Li Zhi said, forcing a cheerful tone.
If they were still here…
Li Xiang would undoubtedly be leaning over her shoulder, eyes wide as she watched the game unfold, waiting for a chance to cheat her way to victory. Meanwhile, Li Huizhi would earnestly study the made-up rules, eventually surpassing both of them in skill.
And Shendan… Shendan would likely be sprawled under the bed, occasionally rolling his dark, beady eyes upward to watch them laughing together, his expression as blank as ever.
Xie Lanxu stared silently at the chaotic chessboard, his expression unreadable.
Li Zhi had been caught up in her own sorrow, but seeing the rare look of melancholy on Xie Lanxu’s face, she couldn’t help but laugh.
“Why are you getting all sentimental with me?”
Xie Lanxu glanced at her briefly, then quickly looked away.
“I was just thinking,” he said.
For a fleeting moment, Li Zhi felt a faint suspicion, but it quickly dissolved. Instead, she followed his lead and asked, “Thinking about what?”
Xie Lanxu hesitated for a moment, then said, “In two months, Consort Lu will give birth.”
“And then?”
“If it’s a prince, I wonder if Noble Consort Yi and Noble Consort De will be able to sit still,” Xie Lanxu said as he placed a black piece on the board.
“They wouldn’t be that foolish,” Li Zhi replied. “The Emperor is already past his prime. By the time a young prince grows up, it’ll take many years. Besides, Consort Lu’s low birth poses no real threat. So far, those who’ve tried to harm her child have mostly been concubines vying for favor, not serious political contenders.”
Currently, only Prince Feng and Prince Jing were qualified to compete for the throne.
She cast a skeptical glance at Xie Lanxu. He should have understood these dynamics even better than she did.
“Oh.”
Xie Lanxu calmly took over a dozen of her white pieces with a single move.
Li Zhi’s eyes widened in realization. So that’s why he had been asking such obvious questions.
“You cheated!”
“Didn’t you teach me to accept the consequences of losing?” Xie Lanxu replied coolly.
On the verge of victory, only to suddenly lose everything, Li Zhi was so frustrated she refused to play another round.
Watching her sulk, Xie Lanxu suddenly said, “Sometimes, it feels like there are two people inside you.”
Li Zhi stiffened, instinctively sitting up straight. She forced herself to meet his gaze with feigned confusion.
“Are you mimicking your twin sister?” Xie Lanxu asked calmly.
For a moment, Li Zhi felt as though even her tongue had turned to stone.
The only sound in the room was the faint rustling of the wind outside.
Seeing her reaction, Xie Lanxu’s expression softened.
He pushed aside the low table with the chessboard and extended a hand toward her.
“Come here,” he said.
Li Zhi hesitated for a moment before taking his hand and stepping over the table to sit in front of him. With a long reach, Xie Lanxu pulled her into his arms.
His chin rested lightly on the top of her head, like a bird playfully nudging its favorite perch or a carp nibbling gently at the surface of a pond.
“No matter who you’re mimicking, you are still you,” he said softly.
Her name was Li Zhi, but there were indeed two people within her.
The one who sulked after losing a chess game was Li Xia, and the one who swallowed her protests and obeyed was Li Zhi. Xie Lanxu could always tell exactly when it was her and when it was her pretending.
To him, they were one and the same.
He tilted her chin upward, his gaze meeting hers directly.
“No matter who you’re mimicking, it’s all a part of you,” he said. “And I accept all of it.”
No one had taught him this, but somewhere deep in his heart, he felt the desire to give back what he had received.
This unique feeling—being wholly accepted—moved him deeply, and he wanted to return it to her.
“Perhaps, in the beginning…”
His chin rested gently on her head, like a migratory bird pausing briefly in spring. She couldn’t see his expression, only hear his slightly hoarse voice, as he spoke slowly.
“Perhaps I just wanted to truly be seen.”
If, from the beginning, his mother had told him that one day someone would see his flaws and accept him without hesitation…
If, from the beginning, his father had rebuked the shaman who prophesied misfortune, declaring that droughts and floods were not his fault…
Li Zhi tried to turn her head to look at him, but he gently held her in place, preventing her from moving.
She couldn’t see his face, but a wave of unease and guilt surged within her, nearly overwhelming her.
Not just unease and guilt.
Enough, enough! she silently begged in her heart.
Don’t believe in me more. Don’t care for me more. Don’t place me deeper into your heart. Don’t invest more of yourself into me.
“In the past, I always felt that the heavens were unfair to me,” Xie Lanxu murmured, tightening his arms around her slightly.
The translucent moonlight, quiet and fragile as glass, spilled into the serene room.
Tiny specks of dust floated in the pale beams, all moving toward the same direction.
“Now, I feel that the heavens owe me nothing,” Xie Lanxu said softly.
