SWHCBB 29

Chapter 29: Some Memories of Xiao Zhiyu

Wen Yan took a deep breath, her lips trembling as though she wanted to speak, but no words came out. Her eyes reddened completely, and she turned and left in a hurry.

As she left, she didn’t even glance at Jiang Chuang, who was leaning lazily against the railing and idly tossing twigs. She only tossed out a single sentence:

“No need to see me off. Go back in and keep him company.”

Jiang Chuang didn’t dare be negligent in front of her. He immediately stood upright and gave a formal bow. “Your subject respectfully sends off Her Highness the Princess.”

After raising his head and seeing that Wen Yan and the palace attendants she had brought were already gone, he finally felt at ease and returned to the room to accompany his little husband.

The carriage rolled slowly through the long street. Wen Yan leaned her head against her hand and looked down at the jade pendant, now half broken, in her palm. Memories gradually surged back.

Before Zhiyu lost his sight, he had been drenched in cold sweat, and bearing the pain, had handed her the jade pendant, saying, “Royal Sister, I… I got back Mother Consort’s jade pendant.”

This pendant had been the last item their mother. After her passing, the Emperor flew into a rage and ordered all her belongings to be removed, thrown away, and burned. This jade pendant was the only item Wen Yan managed to keep.

Back then, with this remnant of Consort Chen and the bond of affection she once had with the Emperor, Wen Yan regained his favor and awakened a sense his guilt.

But no matter how shrewd she was, she was still a girl of only ten or so, and she could never have foreseen that the Empress would begin to see Zhiyu as a threat because of this.

After all, Consort Chen’s former favor remained vivid in her memory. So much so that even while sitting on the throne of Fengluan Hall, the Empress had always felt like she was on pins and needles, she feared that she might be replaced any day.

It was only after Xiao Zhiyu awoke that Wen Yan learned what had happened: the nanny, acting on the Empress’s orders, had stolen the pendant in an attempt to stir up more trouble.

Zhiyu caught her in the act, secretly followed her, and witnessed her meeting with one of the Empress’s senior palace maids. When he saw that she was about to hand over the pendant, he rushed out to stop her.

The Empress, growing vicious, decided to eliminate the problem entirely. She gave the nanny poison and ordered her to feed it to Zhiyu.

The nanny returned and, using the pendant as bait, tricked Zhiyu into drinking the bitter poison in exchange for retrieving the pendant.

Afterward, the nanny committed suicide by taking poison, leaving no evidence behind. Zhiyu’s account was dismissed as an attempt to slander the Empress, merely the resentful lies of a child.

He had been so young, yet the Emperor decided he was already too scheming and beyond saving.

Tears fell onto the jade pendant. Wen Yan expressionlessly wiped the corner of her eyes and gripped the pendant tightly, her gaze erupting with hatred.

It was then that she understood, the father who had once doted on her was no different from the rest. Though he knew what the Empress had done, he discarded Zhiyu for the sake of political interests and balance.

She no longer held any illusions about her father. She even wished for his death. Not even a thousand cuts would ease the hatred in her heart. He had cost her her mother, and nearly her Zhiyu as well.

That fatherly love had always been a performance. Wen Yan had long seen through him and begun using it to her advantage.

A hint of guilt for Consort Chen, a bit of regret over her death, and the remnants of his fatherly affection. That was all Wen Yan needed to reclaim his favor.

She acted willfully and arrogantly, and the Emperor tolerated it. Not only because she closely resembled Consort Chen, but because he believed she had no hidden depths. She was direct, sincere, someone who didn’t flatter or scheme, someone who truly loved her father.

But the Emperor would never know, after Zhiyu lost his sight, she began planning to kill every son he had other than Zhiyu. No matter who their mother was, if they stood in her way, they would die.

When she first confided to Zhiyu, she reminded him that though a female emperor had once ruled, centuries of history had left her name spat upon as a bringer of ruin.

Her mother had once spoken, in sorrow and longing, of Wu Zhao, Lu Zhi, and Wei Zifu¹ from another world, she planted a seed in the young Wen Yan’s mind. What joy could come from holding power? Why should men alone control it?

Her mother had lamented that she, too, had once dreamed of achieving something. But in the end, she was just a caged bird in the harem, crushed beneath imperial authority.

Wen Yan would never forget how, after the initial shock, Xiao Zhiyu had, without hesitation, said in his childish voice, “I’ll listen to Royal Sister. I… I’ll work hard not to drag you down! I’ll help you! I promise!”

Wen Yan had held him close, telling him stories of their mother to comfort him through the pain so he could sleep peacefully.

If she did not seize that throne, then once a new emperor rose, no matter who it was, neither she nor Zhiyu would be safe.

Zhiyu understood her ambition. Even blind, he refused to be useless. With his sharp mind, Wen Yan had the Emperor bring in tutors to teach him. He studied everything the other princes learned.

While the other princes needed three readings to understand a text, Zhiyu grasped it after hearing it once, even able to counter the tutor’s explanations. The tutor had sighed more than once: “If only the Fifth Prince weren’t blind.”

The implication was obvious to all.

But Zhiyu had never minded such comments. He even said he thought being blind wasn’t so bad.

Wen Yan understood what he really meant: being blind was good, because it kept both him and Royal Sister safe.

But only today did Wen Yan finally understand the deeper meaning behind his words: that being blind meant he wouldn’t become an obstacle to her ascension. As long as the Emperor had even one useful son, her claim to the throne would never be justified.

So, he had never wanted to cure his eyes… He didn’t want to become a blade others could use to strike at his Royal Sister. He didn’t want her to doubt him. He didn’t want their bond to fray.

Realizing this filled Wen Yan with disbelief and pain. But she couldn’t blame him for fearing she might doubt him. After all, human hearts are unpredictable, just like their father and mother’s.

All she could feel was heartache. Even now, when he had finally decided to seek treatment, he still had to be so cautious. Seeking her approval, promising again and again that he had no ulterior motives and no interest in power.

Wen Yan carefully put away the jade pendant. As long as she held onto it, she would never forget these agonies.

She would remember the pain inflicted upon her and Zhiyu, and return it a hundredfold, a thousandfold, upon those who caused it.

1. women in ancient Chinese history, each associated with the imperial court and known for their significant influence over Chinese politics, particularly during the Han and Tang dynasties. Wu Zetian (Wu Zhao, the first and only woman emperor of china. Lu Zhi, The first Empress of the Han Dynasty. And Wei Zifu, Empress of Emperor Wu of Han ↩︎