Yu Lingyin was seven years old.
From the nannies’ perspective, this child talked too much, ate too much, asked too many questions, caused too much trouble—and had boundless energy. She’d even try to pluck the stars from the sky to examine them. She was not an easy child to raise.
Fortunately, they didn’t have to raise her full-time.
Most of the time, she was kept by His Majesty’s side.
He never once gave her a smile—but then again, he never gave anyone a pleasant expression. All in all, the fact that he kept her by his side from infancy, overseeing every aspect of her daily life and studies, was proof enough of his care.
Yu Lingxin had hired a martial arts master for her—said to be a rare prodigy in the realm. Her attitude was earnest enough, but she’d barely swung her wooden sword twice before announcing she was hungry.
The master pinched her cheek, poked her slightly round little belly, and asked with amusement: “Hungry? Didn’t you just have lunch?”
Yu Lingyin sucked in her tummy, embarrassed: “I’m hungry again. I’m still growing—growing makes you hungry fast. If I’m hungry, I won’t have the strength to train, and I won’t grow tall. Then when people ask, ‘Princess, why aren’t you getting taller?’ I’ll just have to…”
The master clamped a hand over her mouth: “Alright, alright, stop talking. I’ll go find you something to eat.”
Yu Lingyin stood there twisting in place, clutching her wooden sword, waiting for her master to return.
A woman dressed as a palace maid glanced around cautiously, then slipped in quietly. She patted Yu Lingyin’s shoulder and asked with a smile: “Your Highness, do you still remember me?”
Yu Lingyin had a sudden flash of recognition and nodded firmly: “I remember you, pretty sister! You played with me for a long time at the palace banquet. But why are you dressed like this?”
The woman smiled, unfolded a handkerchief, and offered her some pastries, coaxing: “Does Your Highness like me? Would you want me to stay in the palace with you forever?”
“I’ll tell Daddy…” Yu Lingyin mumbled through a mouthful of pastry. Before she could finish, the woman hugged her tightly, tears streaming down her face: “Your Highness lost her mother so young. Just thinking about it breaks my heart. If I were fortunate enough to enter the palace and become Your Highness’s mother, I would make sure you knew what it felt like to have one.”
“But there’s nothing fun about the palace,” Yu Lingyin said. “You’ll have your own children someday. Why would you want to be someone else’s child’s mother?”
“I… I like Your Highness so much…”
Yu Lingyin thought for a moment: “Alright then. I’ll tell Father. But I’m a bit slow and forgetful. Leave me something as a token, okay? That way, when I see it, I’ll remember.”
Though the woman found it a little odd, she thought: What schemes could a five-year-old have? Besides, after so many interactions, she’d concluded this child was foolish, naive, and easily fooled—she thought anyone who talked to her kindly was a good person.
In her opinion, His Majesty had spoiled this child rotten, leaving her without any sense.
She searched herself and found a small embroidered pouch, handed it over with careful instructions, and slipped away just before Yu Lingyin’s master returned.
That very night, Yu Lingyin was plagued by nightmares. She trembled and wailed about ghosts, throwing the entire palace into chaos. Everywhere was lit with lamps.
One imperial physician after another came and went, kneeling outside the hall, their robes soaked in cold sweat—yet none could find a cause.
Though Yu Lingxin hadn’t yet lost his temper, they could already smell the coming storm. Finally, someone found the courage to speak: “Her Highness’s symptoms don’t seem like illness—it appears to be a curse of yansheng.”
At those words, everyone inside and out dropped to their knees, heads pressed low.
Such cursing arts had been forbidden since the previous dynasty—every time they surfaced, rivers of blood followed.
No one present knew more about such things than Yu Lingxin. In fact, the talismans and incantations he’d had his sorcerers collect were also a form of yansheng. But such things were always permitted only for the ruler, not the ruled. He tapped his long fingers on the armrest and said flatly: “Then investigate. See who and what the princess came into contact with today, and whether any forbidden items have appeared.”
The attendants received their orders and searched everywhere. Before long, they found a small embroidered pouch among the clothes Yu Lingyin had changed out of that day.
The pouch was pale pink with peony embroidery—clearly not hers. Inside, they found her birth date and time written in cinnabar, along with curse runes.
The investigation eventually traced it back to Lü Chengcheng’s daughter. She had disguised herself and entered the palace, handing the pouch to the princess.
Both father and daughter were arrested and brought in. The evidence was irrefutable—there was no denying it.
After the birth-date charm was burned, Yu Lingyin’s symptoms subsided, and she regained consciousness.
Yu Lingxin paid no attention to their cries of injustice.
“The evidence is solid. Lü repeatedly petitioned for consort selections and, failing, turned her hand against the princess. Now, with clear proof of plotting against the imperial heir, what do you have to say in your defense? To be so vicious in pursuit of the empress’s position—truly deserving of death!” Xunliang, reading Yu Lingxin’s expression, immediately shouted.
Yu Lingxin couldn’t be bothered with them: “By law, the immediate family is to be executed, and the nine clans exiled. Dismissed.”
He rose and walked away, leaving their wailing behind.
After a night of chaos, Yu Lingyin seemed to have finally fallen asleep, lying quietly with her eyes closed on the bed—so small and fragile, one couldn’t help but feel tender toward her.
Yu Lingxin sat by her bedside and watched her for a long while. Seeing no movement, he finally asked: “Tired of pretending? Want a midnight snack?”
Yu Lingyin opened her eyes, looking both surprised and a little frightened. She stammered: “Daddy, don’t be mad. I was wrong…”
“Wrong about what?”
“I shouldn’t have set her up… but, but I didn’t like her…” She started sniffling and wiping her tears. “I hate her. She kept trying to be my mother. I already have a mother—I don’t want her. She was trying to take what belongs to my mother. I hate her.”
“I am… your mother’s thing?”
Yu Lingyin felt she’d said it wrong—but seeing her father smile so happily for the first time, she figured she’d said something right. She nodded firmly: “I’m Mother’s thing too.”
Yu Lingxin looked at her with an expression that said this child can be taught. He magnanimously told her: “Since you asked sincerely, I’ll tell you—the worst thing you did was scheme against her. Anyone who dares covet what belongs to your mother should simply be dragged away.”
“But killing someone for no reason is wrong…” Yu Lingyin felt that wasn’t right, but if her father said it was, then it must be. So she nodded in agreement.
Yu Lingxin nodded, ordered her a midnight snack.
A reward.
He walked briskly out of Yu Lingyin’s chambers, then briskly descended into the underground palace.
To share the good news with Jiang Nong.
“What do you think? Your daughter is so wicked—nothing like you at all. You must be furious, right? Oh wait, you’re already dead—you can’t die again.”
He suddenly laughed—laughed until tears of pain spilled out. When he lowered his head, a tear fell onto Jiang Nong’s face. Before it could freeze, he kissed it away.
His soft lips pressed against her cold, stiff lips—gentle, reverent. He whispered against her ear: “If you’re angry, get up and discipline her. She’ll listen to you.”
He pressed his ear to her lips for a long while, but heard nothing. Annoyed, he straightened up: “Fine. Ignore me again. You talked to me yesterday, but today you won’t. Truly angry? Blaming me for spoiling her? You have to know—you reap what you sow. After all, her father really isn’t a good person.”
Only silence answered him.
“But she is filial, isn’t she? I think she did well. To reward her for protecting her mother’s legacy, I’ll give her something nice. Guess what?”
“I knew you couldn’t guess.”
“It’s the crown prince position.”
“Happy?”
“Look at you—so happy you can’t even speak.”
Yu Lingxin tried to push up her stiff lips—they wouldn’t move. He gave her a few dirty looks and cursed under his breath as he left, blaming her for refusing to talk.
When would the crown prince finally grow up? Children grew so slowly.
Every day, Yu Lingxin opened his eyes to a new sunrise. It took three hundred and sixty-five sunrises for Yu Lingyin to age one year—so slow, so long.
He had already lived through six and a half of those three-hundred-and-sixty-five-day stretches. Eleven and a half more to go.
He felt that the underground ice had long since devoured him, leaving nothing but an empty, rotting shell. He longed for death—longed to go find Jiang Nong and take his revenge.
The longer time dragged on, the deeper his hatred grew—like maggots burrowing into bone, impossible to ignore even if he cut out his own heart and flesh.
Once was a mistake, twice was unforgivable. How dare she abandon him twice? What did she take him for?
She probably had never heard the story of the dog that walked three hundred miles just to bite its former owner. If even a dog could do that, what about a man?
When he died, he would bite her to death all over again.
Too slow, too long. He sat in the courtyard watching the snow melt year after year, and shortened his wait from Yu Lingyin turning eighteen to her turning fifteen.
If he died too early, Yu Lingyin wouldn’t be able to handle things—and Jiang Nong would be angry and refuse to talk to him again.
Still too long. Who cared whether she spoke to him or not?
One day, when Yu Lingyin was thirteen, Yu Lingxin suddenly seemed to have an epiphany.
Right—he hated Jiang Nong to death. Why should he care if she talked to him? Let her be a mute ghost.
Yu Lingyin was already thirteen—not young anymore. He had left her enough trusted allies. If she still couldn’t manage, there was nothing he could do. If by some chance he didn’t end up in hell, he could only do his best to watch over her from above.
Yu Lingxin had nothing left to settle, no one he needed to answer to. He was eager to get on with his own business.
He chose a fine, sunny noon. The sun shone brightly over the earth—everything seemed so full of life. His mood was uncharacteristically good.
Jiang Nong had been dressed in new clothes. He cremated her body in the underground palace—the fire burned for three days until her body was reduced to ashes. He spent one day swallowing those ashes, picking up even the tiniest remnants with his fingertips, consuming every last speck.
In his view, when Yu Lingyin eventually learned the truth—what a bitter, hateful couple her parents had been, how her mother had been taken by force and died young—she would probably dig up the entire underground palace, bury them separately, and perhaps even scatter his ashes to the winds.
She was certainly capable of it.
Better to keep Jiang Nong inside him, where it was safer.
Turned to ash, become part of him—even in death she couldn’t escape him. He would haunt her even as a ghost.
Thinking this, he let out a low chuckle—then a torrent of black blood rolled from his throat.
It turned out the poison he’d swallowed was taking effect—quite quickly, too. Agony wracked his body, like a fire scouring through his veins and bones, gnawing at his flesh bit by bit.
He wiped his mouth and saw that the ashes hadn’t come up with the blood, so he let himself keep vomiting.
He should have chosen a different way to die—this wasn’t very dignified. But at least now he knew what Jiang Nong had felt when she died.
More and more blood poured out, staining a wide patch of frost and snow red—as if his body was determined to empty itself of every last drop.
Yu Lingxin collapsed to the ground, his vision fading, until only swirling patches of color remained.
Gradually, those patches of light converged, coalescing into the shape of Jiang Nong—like her, yet not; like the Jiang Nong of her teenage years.
He strained to reach out, his throat clogged with blood, making a rasping sound, trying to grasp her shadow.
Why was she so young? He was over thirty now, ugly and old. How annoying.
That last shred of consciousness made his fingers curl inward, no longer reaching for her image.
…
Jiang Nong walked over and crouched beside him.
His pupils were already dilated, his body forced to stop thinking—he could only feel the pain and her presence.
She gently cradled his head, held him in her arms, pressed her cheek against his icy hair, patted his body, and whispered softly: “Does it hurt, A Xin? Don’t be afraid—it’ll stop soon. Sleep, sleep. When you sleep, it won’t hurt anymore.”
Yu Lingxin had thought he would die with his eyes open—but along with his last mouthful of blood came tears as he closed his eyes.
The world went dark and silent—and there was still Jiang Nong’s embrace.
Sister—I’m not afraid.
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