Chao Ning pulled Jiang Nong aside and said in a low voice: “The plan was mine. He took the arrow meant for me. If I had known he was this kind of person, I would never have come up with such a ruthless scheme. I’m sending someone on a fast horse to Dang to fetch the medicine. If they make it in time, good; if not, don’t push yourself beyond your limits.”
Jiang Nong nodded.
Deep down, the two of them were about sixty or seventy percent alike. Even if there was no romantic love between them, their bond as siblings was enough to carry them through two lifetimes without ever letting each other go.
If Yu Lingxin had died according to their original plan, they wouldn’t have said a word. The problem was that he had broken their plan—by shielding Chao Ning with his own body, willingly offering up his life, trampling on their consciences again and again.
Killing someone who would sacrifice his life to save you—Chao Ning couldn’t bring himself to do it. At least for now, Yu Lingxin’s true nature was kinder than most people he had ever known.
Jiang Nong had no choice but to move up the original plan.
By the hour of Hai, the banquet was still in full swing. Empress Dowager Fu had long grown weary of such sycophantic occasions, tired of watching the fawning smiles beneath her. She rose to leave.
Chief Eunuch Wei offered to summon her palanquin, but she waved him off: “Just walk with me for a while. The moon and stars are bright tonight—a rare chance to see the palace grounds.”
A young eunuch quickly handed her a shawl and said fawningly: “I’ve heard there’s a stream in Mount Ni—clear as crystal, especially beautiful under the moonlight—not far from the banquet site.”
The Empress Dowager seemed indifferent: “Let’s go have a look then.”
Among the pampered nobility, none had aged as poorly as the Empress Dowager at her age.
Her hair had turned completely white. Deep wrinkles carved her sagging skin. Her eyes were cloudy and dim—in poor light, she could barely see.
She walked slowly, moving away from the noisy crowd: “I’m already sixty. What does it matter if I celebrate a birthday? Each extra day is one more day of suffering. Little Niao’s birthday is coming soon. These days I keep dreaming of her—she’s always crying in my dreams. Why is she always crying?”
Eunuch Wei knew she was mourning her deceased daughter. Such joyous occasions only made her sorrow worse. Seeing the Ninth Princess today—so strikingly similar—had deepened her grief. He carefully replied: “Perhaps it is because Your Highness misses the princess, so she weeps in your dreams. The princess was deeply blessed, virtuous and filial in life—surely she has become a celestial being, watching over you.”
“I failed her.” The Empress Dowager knew he was only trying to please her, unwilling to speak from the heart. She didn’t press him, and said no more.
The sound of the babbling stream grew nearer, mingled with a plaintive, weeping melody—a tune played on the xun. The closer they came, the clearer it grew, stirring a melancholy in the heart at this late hour. Who could be playing the xun so deep into the night?
Eunuch Wei’s heart skipped a beat. He was about to order someone to drive the player away, but the Empress Dowager stopped him: “Come with me to see.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
It had been a long time since the Empress Dowager had heard mournful music in the palace. There were many taboos within the palace—all favored joyful tunes. Naturally, the musicians would never dare play such pieces before her, fearing her wrath.
Now, with no one to confide her sorrow to and no outlet for it, this mournful melody struck a chord in her like a kindred spirit.
By the riverbank stood a young girl in a moon-white skirt, her skin pale as snow against the shimmering starlight on the water. Her dark hair was tied back, cascading behind her. Her brows were slightly furrowed, her eyes rimmed with red.
Eunuch Wei had served the Empress Dowager for decades. In the early years of the emperor’s reign, they had searched for women who resembled Jiang Niao—trying to amuse the Empress Dowager, to coax her into happiness by any means possible. But she had hated every one of them, flying into a rage. Eventually, the emperor stopped trying.
The Empress Dowager had been so deeply grieved that the princess’s name became taboo in the palace. Gradually, no one spoke of her anymore. More than twenty years had passed.
By the time Lady Song entered the palace, the name of Princess Jiang Niao was already forbidden. Princess Jiang Nong would have no way of knowing—likely just a niece resembling her aunt by chance.
Princess Jiang Nong did not resemble Jiang Niao in features—but in spirit. The same brightness tinged with sorrow, the same air of carrying a heavy heart—especially striking. And she always wore light-colored clothing.
Eunuch Wei sighed to himself. He had thought that with a little favor from the Empress Dowager, the Ninth Princess might have a different future. But now she had gone and drawn bad luck upon herself—appearing on the Empress Dowager’s path at the very moment of her sorrow, playing such a mournful tune. If she earned the Empress Dowager’s displeasure, the emperor would surely follow suit and marry her off far away.
The Empress Dowager’s yellowed eyes reddened with bloodshot veins. Seeing this, Eunuch Wei immediately took preemptive action and shouted: “How dare you! On such a fine occasion, why does the Ninth Princess play such a mournful tune!”
Jiang Nong turned, flustered, and knelt in haste: “This granddaughter pays her respects to Grandmother. I did not know you would be here at such a late hour—I am deeply sorry to have disturbed you.”
“Were you playing Qu Yuan’s Summoning the Soul?” The Empress Dowager’s tone revealed no emotion.
Jiang Nong’s hands, hidden in her sleeves, clenched nervously. Her heart pounded. Everything hinged on this moment.
Still keeping her head lowered, she replied: “Yes.”
According to rumor, the Empress Dowager’s early deceased daughter had been the emperor’s twin sister. To win over powerful nobles and secure the crown prince’s position, the emperor had arranged a marriage for her with the son of the Grand Commandant. She died of melancholy at seventeen.
According to legend, this aunt of hers had been gentle, kind-hearted, sensitive, and thoughtful by nature. Every spring, in the third month, she would sing Summoning the Soul by the banks of the Si River, calling back the spirits of soldiers who had died in battle and guiding them home to their native soil. She was also a gifted dancer, often adapting poetry into dance—though her style was the complete opposite of her gentle temperament: most of her works were grand, solemn, and fierce. On her deathbed, she was still composing music for the “Tian Bao” poem from the Xiao Ya section of the Book of Songs.
In her past life, when Xi fell, the incomplete fragments of Jiang Niao’s “Tian Bao” score had fallen into Jiang Nong’s hands. She vaguely remembered two lines of the melody—and those two lines were all she needed.
She had originally planned to perform this dance at the Empress Dowager’s birthday banquet. But with Yu Lingxin at death’s door, she had no choice but to take a risk: she spread word to the Empress Dowager’s eunuchs, lured her to the riverbank, and played Summoning the Soul.
Jiang Nong bowed again to Empress Dowager Fu. When she lifted her head, her eyes were already glistening with tears: “I know I have done wrong, Grandmother—please punish me. But Yu Lingxin, the hostage prince from Tan, is at death’s door, barely clinging to life. I have heard that chanting Summoning the Soul by the water can call back the spirit of one on the brink of death, making him long for the mortal world and return to his body. He is alone in a foreign land, young and pitiable, loathed by his parents and burdened with a reputation of ill omen—always ostracized. Now he is dying to save another. I truly could not bear it, so I wanted to see if it might help…”
Jiang Nong’s words were a mixture of truth and falsehood; her tears held half sincerity.
Of course, she could not say she was summoning spirits for fallen soldiers—that would be too perfectly in line with Jiang Niao’s heart and would invite suspicion. Nor could she say she was doing it for no particular occasion—what better day than the Empress Dowager’s birthday to summon spirits for fallen soldiers? That would be asking for bad luck.
She only needed her actions and intentions to resemble Jiang Niao’s.
“Return! For perils await you there. O soul, return! Descend not to that dark realm.” The Empress Dowager sang slowly, her grip on Eunuch Wei’s arm tightening imperceptibly. Her aged voice carried an almost imperceptible tremor.
Through her dim vision, she looked at her kneeling granddaughter and seemed to see her long-lost daughter once more—yet this was no deliberate, sycophantic imitation.
Aunt and niece were alike, yet not alike. What they shared was that soft, tender heart—like water that twisted and turned a hundred ways, breaking their own spirits in the process.
In the previous dynasty, eunuchs had meddled in politics to the ruin of the state, so in this dynasty they were forbidden to read or write. Naturally, Eunuch Wei was utterly lost in this moment.
He was astonished. He had no idea why the situation had taken such a turn. The Empress Dowager seemed even sadder—yet she had not blamed the Ninth Princess at all. In fact, her gaze toward her was even more loving.
The Ninth Princess, without so much as a sound, possessed such skill!
Hearing the Empress Dowager chant, Jiang Nong’s anxious heart finally settled back into place.
She had gambled correctly! If the Empress Dowager was willing to part with it, Yu Lingxin might be saved. And it was proof that even before she performed her dance, she had already won the Empress Dowager’s favor.
Jiang Nong raised her xun and, in harmony with the Empress Dowager’s song, played softly—the two voices intertwining in even more mournful beauty.
When the song ended, Jiang Nong presented her handkerchief with a nervous air: “Did I play poorly? Or did I do something wrong to stir up sad memories, Grandmother?”
The Empress Dowager took it, wanting to examine her closely by the moonlight. But her eyes, long ruined by weeping, could barely see in the dim light—only the girl’s blurred face and silhouette. Though she did not resemble Jiang Niao at this moment, she seemed all the more like her.
Her aged hand reached out and took Jiang Nong’s, patting it gently in reassurance: “Good child, you played very well. It’s just that your grandmother is old, and too many partings and deaths come rushing back—it’s hard not to grieve. If summoning the soul truly worked, if it could call back the departed, what a wonderful thing that would be.”
Jiang Nong lowered her eyes: “I too hope it truly works—so that Yu Lingxin does not perish so young. If the summoning could call back his spirit and keep him alive until Prince Chao Ning’s medicine arrives from Dang, that would be a blessing.”
“The physicians say he can still be saved? What medicine does he need? Why send all the way to Dang? Does Xi not have it?” The Empress Dowager frowned.
Jiang Nong shook her head: “Perhaps not—I don’t know. The physician said only blood ginseng might save his life. But such precious medicine—I’ve never even seen it, let alone heard of it before.”
A wave of maternal tenderness surged in the Empress Dowager’s heart. She did not probe too deeply into the careful phrasing of Jiang Nong’s words, but waved her hand generously and instructed Eunuch Wei: “Xi is no weaker than Dang—how could we not have it? Nongnong is kind-hearted, and I naturally wish to honor her intentions. Besides, that boy Yu Lingxin acted out of goodness—he risked his life to save another. How could I stand by and do nothing?”
“Eunuch Wei, send someone with my token. Ride at full speed back to the palace, retrieve the blood ginseng, and deliver it to the imperial physician-in-chief for use in the medicine. To save a life is a great virtue.”
Eunuch Wei acknowledged the order and dispatched a young eunuch to carry it out.
Jiang Nong knelt with a thud and kowtowed repeatedly to the Empress Dowager: “Grandmother is so kind—I am deeply grateful. If Yu Lingxin knows that it was you who saved him, he will remember it in his very bones.”
The Empress Dowager helped her up and, seeing her smile, reached out to wipe the tears from the corner of her eyes. The heavy clouds over her heart lifted somewhat in that moment.
If Niao Niao were still here, she too would be just as kind-hearted as this child, pleading for medicine for that poor hostage.
“My palace is lonely. If you are willing, you may come often to keep me company—talk, embroider, or play the xun. You play quite well. Do you know any other pieces? Do you dance?”
Supporting the Empress Dowager, Jiang Nong nodded softly and replied in a calm, measured voice.
Eunuch Wei followed behind, full of admiration. He had served the Empress Dowager for years and had fully expected her to fly into a rage and punish the Ninth Princess. Instead, she had given away a precious century-old blood ginseng to save some insignificant hostage.
The Ninth Princess was truly blessed—she had stumbled into the Empress Dowager’s favor entirely by accident. What great fortune.
The Empress Dowager had always harbored guilt over Princess Jiang Niao’s marriage. If she could do it over, she would have let her choose her own husband, only hoping for her happiness. If the Ninth Princess were so blessed, her marriage would be hers to decide as well.
Leave a Reply