IN THE DARK NIGHT, Chenqian Palace was brightly lit.
A woman's piercing cries and groans reverberated through the palace. Beneath swaying lanterns, maids emerged from a chamber carrying golden basins full of blood, while others hurried in with fresh basins. The sheer volume of blood was horrific; its vivid crimson hue seared the eyes. Imperial physicians stood in a huddle outside the door, murmuring in hushed tones, their wrinkles deepening like cracks on tree bark.
For a woman, giving birth was like breaking through the gates of hell, and it was obvious that Imperial Noble Consort Ma wasn't doing well.
Situ Jin stood motionless beneath the eaves. The drizzling rain drifted onto his face, and he blinked.
At twenty years old, he had a striking yet stern face with sharp eyebrows and a high nose that gave him an aloof air. His features, combined with his quiet nature, often led those who didn't know him well to assume that he was unapproachable. In reality, he simply struggled with words, which left him with few friends. When the imperial guards gathered to drink or gamble, they seldom invited him. When they exchanged gossip about palace intrigues, he was never included. Though he had no real interest in such activities, he couldn't help feeling a twinge of loneliness when he was spurned.
After almost three years of service as an imperial guard, he could only carry on a conversation with one fellow from his hometown. He had to admit that he hadn't been very successful socially.
Sometimes, Situ Jin thought that being an imperial guard wasn't merely about protecting the palace—it was also about drinking, boasting, and socializing with the other guards. Despite his punctuality and discipline, he still felt he was falling short.
One of his fellow guards spoke in a low voice, his face full of pity. "Ah, Imperial Noble Consort Ma has truly suffered. She managed to escape Lady Gao's schemes but couldn't dodge the assassin's blade. The assassin ruined a perfectly fine birthday banquet and so terrified Imperial Noble Consort Ma that she went into early labor!"
Another guard asked, "Who do you think sent the assassin?"
"Do you think it could've been Wei-gonggong? Everyone knows that Imperial Noble Consort Ma despises the eunuchs and badmouths them to the emperor when they're alone together. During the Yellow River flood, she told him that the eunuchs didn't need to hoard wealth and that he should seize Wei-gonggong's assets for disaster relief. I heard that Wei-gonggong was privately furious. The very next day, he gave the emperor a troupe of female musicians."
The rain grew heavier, droplets streaming down Situ Jin's armor and seeping into his clothes. He adjusted his stance slightly as his light-yellow uniform darkened in uneven patches.
Situ Jin was aware of that incident. The musicians had hailed from Yangzhou and had the delicate charm unique to Southern women. Situ Jin had happened to be on duty in the hall during their performance, and their every glance had oozed allure.
One guard shook his head and sighed. "You really have to admire Imperial Noble Consort Ma. Despite Wei-gonggong's relentless attempts to curry favor, he couldn't best her. He never succeeded. But why isn't the emperor here for Imperial Noble Consort Ma's labor?"
"The Tatars recently raided the border. They seized quite a few women and a lot of gold and brought them back to the desert. The emperor is at court, discussing that matter with his ministers. I suspect troops will be mobilized any day now to teach the Tatars a lesson."
A young eunuch rushed over in the rain. He grabbed a physician and demanded, "How is the consort? The emperor has decreed that if anything happens to her or the infant prince, you'll all be buried with them!"
The physicians trembled in fear and glanced at one another. No one dared to speak the truth.
"Speak up!" shouted the eunuch hoarsely. "The emperor is waiting!"
One elderly physician weighed his words carefully. "Imperial Noble Consort Ma's constitution has always been naturally cold," he said, unwilling to be blunt. "Blood and qi flourish in warmth but wither in cold; it leads to stagnation and obstruction. The consort suffers from excessive yin energy. Her hands are cold, her tongue is red, and she's been struggling to sleep at night. We checked her pulse and found it faint and uneven, so we prescribed tonics to bolster her blood and qi. She was improving, but today's shock drove a massive influx of yin energy into her body and disrupted the fetal qi. All our previous efforts have been..."
Only at the end of the physician's speech did the eunuch understand his implication. He stamped in frustration, then glanced at the basins of blood the maids were carrying out. The consort seemed to be losing strength—her moans within were starting to fade. Another physician hastily instructed a maid to brew ginseng soup.
"The emperor is already in his forties," said the eunuch, "and this prince is only the second he's fathered. If anything happens to the child, can you bear to take responsibility?"
The child hadn't even been born yet. How could he be so sure that it was a prince? The physicians shrank back, their expressions grim. The emperor had long struggled to produce heirs and, even in his forties, had only one son. The entire palace knew how much he treasured the child in Imperial Noble Consort Ma's womb. He'd often patted her belly, boasting that it surely held a prince.
One physician gathered his courage and said, "There is a way to save the prince. The child is full-term. We could perform a caesarean section—" Before he could finish, the elderly physician pinched him. He immediately fell silent.
Situ Jin and the other imperial guards stood nearby, listening to the conversation through the pattering rain. They shuddered.
Several maids walked up the steps with bowed heads, carrying oilcloth-covered bowls of ginseng soup. Situ Jin glanced over and noticed one maid who looked unfamiliar.
Frowning, he stepped forward and stopped her. "Which palace are you from? I've never seen you before."
The maid's voice was as quiet as the buzz of a mosquito. "I'm new."
Several more imperial guards approached, asking, "What's wrong?"
Situ Jin stared at the maid for a moment, then lifted the oilcloth. On the tray beneath it, a dagger lay next to the soup bowl. Everyone froze, shocked. In an instant, the maid suddenly hurled the tray at Situ Jin, who turned his head to dodge it. He quickly followed up with a kick to the maid's stomach. She let out a grunt, then flipped backward and vanished into the rain, as if she were a swallow.
"Assassin! There's an assassin!" the guards shouted.
The woman landed and knelt on one knee in the rain. Her hair ornaments scattered to the ground, and a waterfall of black hair tumbled free. She tore her skirt to reveal long, slender legs; the lanterns' light spilled over them, imparting them with the warm glow of fine jade. A black dagger was strapped to the outside of the woman's thigh. She slowly drew the blade, its cold gleam slicing through Situ Jin's vision.
The imperial guards drew their sabers and encircled the assassin. She remained motionless as rainwater streamed down her temples and jaw.
"Surrender! You can't escape!" someone roared.
The woman laughed darkly. Her makeup was smeared, her smile eerie and sinister. "Escape? Who said I'd do that? The Garuda of Qiye Garden is here to send Imperial Noble Consort Ma on her final journey!"
As she finished speaking, countless black shadows emerged from the flowers and trees, wielding pale, gleaming longswords. They clashed with the imperial guards, breaking through their formation at once. The young eunuch screamed in terror, fleeing on all fours into Chenqian Palace.
At the center of the chaos, the woman shot forward like an arrow, her body like a blade, the light on her saber as cold as the moon. Situ Jin drew his sword and stepped forward, blocking a fatal strike aimed at his companion. Their blades scraped as Situ Jin came face-to-face with the assassin. He could feel her icy gaze and her viperlike, hissing breath.
The woman's saber was terribly quick. One swing followed another in a relentless flurry of slashes and thrusts that flowed into another overhead strike. Her attacks came on like a storm, relentless and overwhelming; Situ Jin barely kept up. Time and time again, she forced him into treacherous predicaments. He could hear his own heartbeat pounding like a drum.
Too fast! Too fast! The rapid attacks had to be draining her strength. Situ Jin gritted his teeth and did his best to hold out, waiting for the moment the woman's energy would wane so that he could counterattack.
After a few breaths, her movements faltered slightly. Situ Jin's eyes lit up—this was his chance!
Cold raindrops the size of beans struck his hand and blade sharply, jolting his nerves. Situ Jin roared, slashing through the downpour, sparks flying as his blade clashed against hers. Behind her blade's silver gleam, the woman's eyes glinted as if in a sinister smile.
Situ Jin realized that something was wrong and tried to retreat—but it was too late. A short blade slid from the woman's sleeve and slashed his arm deeply. Blood gushed out.
Looking up, Situ Jin saw that the woman had a wicked, arrogant smile on her lips as she held a long saber in her right hand and a dagger in her left.
The Garuda's dual blades.
Situ Jin tightened his grip on his goose-quill saber. Blood ran down his arm and dripped from his fingers onto the ground.
No one had noticed a sinister figure emerging from the flowers like a monster crawling from its swamp. Raising his head, the figure fired a blow dart through the paper window. Candlelight from inside the palace seeped through the tiny hole the dart had pierced. All at once, Imperial Noble Consort Ma's moans ceased. Then screams erupted from within the palace as maids began to run out in terror, some tripping and tumbling down the stairs.
"The consort is dead! The consort has been assassinated!"
The imperial guards were horrified.
As if on cue, the assassins retreated, scaling walls and scattering in every direction like a receding tide. At the same moment, reinforcements arrived, firing crossbow bolts at the fleeing figures. The Garuda's attacks intensified. Each strike was thunderous, her blade unyielding, impenetrable. Situ Jin couldn't hold his ground.
The semblance of a stalemate earlier had been an illusion. Situ Jin was no match for her at all—she'd merely been distracting him.
He'd now been struck several times, but the woman had stopped slashing away at him. Cutting down a few of those who blocked her path, she scaled a locust tree and reached the palace roof. The soldiers' crossbow bolts flew after her, but she weaved and swerved like she had eyes on the back of her head. Every bolt missed, and in an instant, the woman was gone.
"Perform the caesarean! Perform a caesarean! We can still save the prince!"
A physician who'd tumbled down in the walkway suddenly came to his senses, scrambled to his feet, and dragged the elderly physician into the consort's chamber. When they lifted the curtain, they saw Imperial Noble Consort Ma's lifeless body on a blood-soaked bed. A thin blow dart was lodged in her belly. Black veins spread like crawling insects from the site of the dart, covering half her skin.
***
IN THE PATTERING RAIN, Shen Jue awoke from a dream. Xiahou Lian slept restlessly, constantly shifting. Shen Jue, a light sleeper, had woken up many times that night.
He touched Xiahou Lian's arm and found it so scalding hot that his hand jerked back reflexively. Sitting up, he placed his hand on Xiahou Lian's forehead; it was clammy, covered in cold sweat.
"Xiahou Lian!" Shen Jue shook him gently.
Xiahou Lian groggily opened his eyes. "I feel awful," he said, his voice feeble.
Shen Jue dipped a cloth in water and placed it on Xiahou Lian's forehead. "I'll go to the imperial physicians' office and get you some medicine. Stay here and don't move."
Xiahou Lian nodded weakly and closed his eyes.
Shen Jue threw on his clothes and ran outside. The night was as dark as ink, and the palace loomed ahead like a deeper shadow in the darkness. The long street stretched into the night. Shen Jue could hear the crisp patter of his own footsteps, but for some reason, no one else was around—not a single guard was visible. Rather than easing Shen Jue's mind, the quiet only instilled a crushing dread.
When he reached the imperial physicians' office, the door was wide open, medicinal herbs strewn across the ground. There was no sign of any maids, eunuchs, or physicians. Shen Jue couldn't guess what had happened. Repressing his unease, he rummaged quickly through the cabinets for some golden wound medicine and antipyretic herbs. He stuffed what he found into his robe and was preparing to leave when hurried footsteps echoed from outside.
Several assassins rushed past, all clad in black. Startled, Shen Jue quickly ducked behind the door. The assassins' faint, hoarse voices reached his ears.
"Shouldn't we look for Xiahou Lian, Boss?"
"Why bother? That brat couldn't even find the old palace map. Just getting out of here safely will be a miracle. We have our own problems to deal with; we don't have time to worry about him too. We've fulfilled our mission: The consort is dead. As for Xiahou Lian, leave him to fend for himself."
The assassins were from Qiye Garden. Of course, Xiahou Lian couldn't have found that old map—Shen Jue had memorized and then burned it. Now only he knew the palace's secrets. The assassins were probably aware that there was a secret passage into the palace, but unsure of its exact location—hence their need for the map.
So Xiahou Lian's role had been to find that map, not to assassinate anyone.
Once the assassins were gone, Shen Jue emerged from behind the door and quickly fled the imperial physicians' office. Just as he rounded the corner, a clatter of iron boots and shouts of "Catch the assassins!" passed behind him.
Finally, Shen Jue reached the rear garden. The shadows of intertwined trees melded and loomed, as if every dark corner hid untold dangers. Shen Jue sprinted down the path, desperate to return to Xiahou Lian's side.
Suddenly, rapid footsteps approached. Shen Jue's heart skipped a beat, and he ducked behind a tree.
"Who's there?!" Situ Jin shouted sharply.
Shen Jue's entire body tensed, and he clenched his fists hard.
"Come out!"
Situ Jin raised his torch, slowly walking farther along the path. Leaves the size of bowls brushed his face. His surroundings were eerily quiet but for the clinking of chain mail as the imperial guards moved.
"Are you sure you saw something, Situ?" someone whispered. The flower bushes were too dark at night, and wet moss made the ground slippery. The imperial guards' hearts raced uncontrollably.
The guards' torches burned brightly, carving small pockets of light from the darkness. The guards moved cautiously through the flower beds, standing back-to-back, blades gripped tightly in their hands. Assassins were masters of stealth and surprise attacks. By watching each other's backs, the guards left them no opportunity to strike.
The attackers were terrifyingly skilled. The guards had lost twelve men in Chenqian Palace but had themselves killed only three assassins and captured one. The captured assassin had slit his own throat; his blood had gushed forth and pooled under Situ Jin's boots. When Situ Jin picked up the assassin's saber, he'd seen the characters of Tianxiabai carved in seal script: Under heaven, all is white.15
Ironic that a blade named that would be wielded by an assassin lurking in the shadows.
As the bright torchlight drew closer, Shen Jue frowned deeply. He was about to step forward and reveal himself when suddenly he heard the whistle of a crossbow bolt. An imperial guard screamed and fell to the ground, and a shadow leaped down from a tree three steps from Shen Jue to land beside two imperial guards. Before those guards could turn, dual blades slit their throats.
In an instant, three lives were lost.
The Garuda tossed aside her short sabers and lifted a goose-quill saber from the ground. She clamped the blade under her arm and drew it slowly, wiping the bloodstains away to reveal the saber's gleaming surface. Splattered with blood and still dressed in a tattered palace uniform, she raised her head in the darkness, her pretty yet murderous eyes coming into view.
The surviving two guards scrambled backward, petrified.
"Did you happen to see a boy, about this tall?" The Garuda asked, holding her hand at around chest height and cocking her head. "He's dressed in black like the others."
The imperial guards shook their heads mutely.
"Oh. That's a shame." The Garuda smiled and raised her blade to strike.
Situ Jin pushed past the other guards to intercept the Garuda's blade, but in the next instant, she dropped to one knee and slipped her long saber past his. Simultaneously, a hidden blade shot from her left sleeve and pierced the throat of an imperial guard behind him. Situ Jin tried to turn to save his other comrades, but he was no match for the Garuda's speed. She moved like a phantom, soaring toward the imperial guards. With a long upward slice, her saber left a crimson line across another guard's neck and cheek.
The smell of blood spread through the flower bushes. The Garuda plunged her blade into the guard's body, and his blood splattered over her face. The man on the ground fell silent.
Despair filled Situ Jin. The gulf between them was too vast; he stood no chance. Tightening his grip on his sword, he slowly exhaled, gaze locked on the woman before him. She stood beneath the flowering vines, her figure shrouded in shadow. Only the goose-quill saber she held gleamed coldly, its tip dripping with fresh crimson blood.
"Hey…I'm in a hurry," she drawled languidly. "Can we call it quits?"
Situ Jin couldn't guess what kind of game she was playing. "I must fulfill my duty," he said coldly. "One of us must perish here."
"How boring—" she muttered.
She'd yet to finish her words when Situ suddenly struck. When strength isn't enough, one must rely on cunning!
In a flash, he'd bent his knees as if drawing a bow, then sprung forward like an arrow, charging at the Garuda with the force of a gale or thunderclap. He held his breath, the roar of the wind filling his ears, as he watched the woman lift her strikingly beautiful face. Beneath her bangs, her brows and eyes were as dark as ink.
Clang!
The Garuda swung her saber in a crescent arc, blocking Situ Jin's full-force strike. Rather than meeting his blade head-on, she'd sidestepped at the moment of impact. Her long blade slid along his, the screech of metal on metal piercing the air. As Situ Jin exhaled, he felt the cold blade slice through his armor and into the muscles between his ribs. Warm blood spurted out, soaking his armor.
"You haven't yet perfected your Blizzard Saber technique," she told him. "What's the use of being dutiful without sufficient skill? You should value your life more, young man. Another heir to the Blizzard Saber lost. What a pity."
The Garuda slung her saber over her shoulder, leaving Situ Jin to gaze at her back as she walked away, carefree. Situ Jin knelt on the ground, leaning on his saber. Tentatively, he touched his side. His hand came away warm and wet with blood.
Suddenly, a figure emerged from the trees—a frail-looking young eunuch in green robes. Situ Jin struggled to lift his head and catch a glimpse of the eunuch's pale face.
"Don't be afraid. She probably won't come back," Situ Jin said softly. "You're Shen-gonggong from the Fourth Qianxi Courtyard, aren't you? I recognize you. I used to serve there."
Leaves and flowers cast Shen Jue's face in shadow. "You knew I was hiding here?"
"I noticed from the beginning, but I didn't want to expose you," Situ Jin replied, his gaze falling on the bundle of medicine in Shen Jue's arms. "You're stealing medicine? No wonder you're out so late."
"My roommate is sick. We're just lowly servants and can't summon a physician. We ran out of medicine, so I had no choice but to resort to this."
"Your roommate must be very brotherly to you," Situ Jin murmured, his eyelids growing heavier, his voice faint. "That's nice. All my brothers are dead." He looked at the corpses scattered on the ground. Their blood soaked into the dark-brown earth, dyeing it a deep crimson. Though they might not have considered him family, he'd always believed that those who fought side by side and faced life and death together were brothers.
Dew from the flowering vines dripped onto his cheek, cold and penetrating, as if seeping into his heart. Spring in the capital is so cold, he thought hazily. His grip on the saber was slipping.
Shen Jue's eyes were calm and somber as he said softly, "Yes. In the whole wide world, he's the one who cares most for me."
"Then go back quickly. The Fourth Qianxi Courtyard isn't far. Avoid the shadows and stick to the light. The shadows hold assassins...and the Garuda."
Situ Jin couldn't hold on any longer. His hand dropped from his saber, and he fell face-first to the ground. His face was half-buried in the dirt, his body covered in bloodstains and grime.
Shen Jue was taken aback. Stepping closer, he asked, "What did you say? The Garuda? Was that woman just now the Garuda?"
But Situ Jin could no longer answer.
Shen Jue frowned. After a moment's silence, he turned and left.
Shen Jue returned to his room to find Xiahou Lian still unconscious. He put his hand to Xiahou Lian's forehead—it didn't feel any hotter. Then he removed the other boy's clothing and applied the golden wound medicine from the imperial physicians' office. That would be far better than the crude herbs he'd used earlier. Sprinkled over Xiahou Lian's swollen wounds, the fine powder cooled his flesh, alleviating the prickling heat. Xiahou Lian's breathing eased slightly.
After brewing more medicine and feeding it to Xiahou Lian, Shen Jue waited an hour, then checked his temperature again. The fever had subsided. Heaving a sigh of relief, Shen Jue pushed open the window. Night was giving way to dawn, painting the vast, towering skies deep blue. Palaces stretched out one after another, seeming to reach all the way to the morning light on the horizon.
Xiahou Lian awoke. Squinting sleepily, he sat up, his messy hair a tangled pile of straw.
Shen Jue carried over a basin of water and handed him a damp cloth. Xiahou Lian closed his eyes and wiped his face haphazardly. The charcoal had burned out, so Shen Jue fetched more, using tongs to place each piece in the brazier.
"Xiahou Lian." Shen Jue suddenly spoke up. "I saw the Ga—"
"Saw the what?" Xiahou Lian interrupted, still half-asleep. He shook his head vigorously.
Shen Jue paused as he replaced the charcoal, eyes downcast.
The poorer a person had been before securing wealth, the more they dreaded poverty. Shen Jue remembered sweeping snow alone in the bitter cold during his first year in the palace. Later, he'd finally secured a position in the Duanning Palace, only for a concubine to slap him hard for delivering a meal a moment late. Then there was Sixi, whom Shen Jue had killed himself. The memory of Sixi's greasy hand touching him still turned his stomach.
The palace was like an endless sea with no shore in sight. Though the Fourth Qianxi Courtyard was peaceful, it wasn't a place where one could rise above their station. In general, the maids and eunuchs below Shen Jue spent most of their days resting in bed, waiting for the day they would breathe their last breath and a thin coffin lid would seal their fate.
Shen Jue couldn't waste his life here—he had to find a way out. But the Forbidden City was a prison he would never escape. Finally, though, he'd found someone to drift in this sea with him. That was like a first taste of sugar after a lifetime of bitterness. How could he let Xiahou Lian go?
His eyes darkened. In the end, he shook his head. "It's nothing."