When the Crabapple Blossoms Fall Old Dreams, Familiar Faces Return

When my husband came back from the palace, he brought home a frail-looking girl trailing behind him.

By pure coincidence, I returned from visiting my parents with a young boy in tow.

“Husband, he doesn’t know much and really needs someone to look after him,” I said first, my tone gentle as I tried to ease the situation.

The girl behind my husband looked like she might cry, her eyes brimming with unshed tears and her face flushed with embarrassment.

My husband’s gaze swept right past me and landed on the boy I’d brought, his lips curling into a faint, unreadable smile. “Madam, this is truly amusing,” he said.

Truth be told, he’d never found me amusing.

“You two, go rest for now,” he told his attendants, but his eyes stayed locked on me. “My wife and I have some things to discuss.”

Before I could say anything, the boy behind me suddenly grabbed my hand, clinging tightly as his eyes filled with tears. “Sister, don’t leave me,” he begged.

His hands were pale and thin, but there was a surprising strength in his grip that made my cheeks burn.

“Whatever it is, husband, just say it,” I replied.

The smile vanished from his face. His eyes darkened, and he sat in silence for a long moment.

I tried to pull my hand free, but as soon as I moved, the boy wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, holding on even tighter. “Brother, don’t be mad. It’s my fault. It’s all my fault,” he pleaded.

My husband glanced down at the boy’s hands on me, his voice colder than a winter wind. “Who told you to call me brother?”

I cleared my throat and said gently to the boy, “Why don’t you go rest in your room for a while?”

The boy turned to look at me, his eyes still watery as he clung to my sleeve. “I want to stay with my sister,” he said softly.

He seemed so delicate and timid, as if he might break at the slightest touch. It was enough to make anyone’s heart melt.

Later, in the study, my husband absentmindedly traced the rim of his plum blossom teacup before setting it near the fire. His movements were quick and precise, his attention so fixed you’d think he was doing something far more important.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, the kind of slow-building pressure that sneaks up on you, like a frog sitting in water that’s getting warmer and warmer.

There was no mistaking it—he was angry.

“What’s your name, little sister?” I asked the girl who was still kneeling quietly in the corner.

“My name is—”

She had barely started to answer when my husband slammed his cup down with a sharp bang, making her jump and fall silent.

“Madam, you seem awfully comfortable calling her ‘little sister,’” my husband said, his expression unreadable.

I grinned at him, trying to lighten the mood. “Why get so upset over being called ‘brother’? It’s still better than being called ‘uncle,’ isn’t it? There’s a bit of an age gap, and you never like it when people make you seem older.”

He smiled, but there was no warmth in his eyes. He called me by my full name, “Shen Zhilan, just how old do you think your husband is?”

Honestly, my husband does look young. Decked out in his scarlet official robes, riding through town on horseback, he turns heads wherever he goes. But he was a top scholar when he was just a teenager, and after years navigating the ups and downs of official life, he’s become a master at hiding his true feelings.

All that depth and cunning are written right into his dignified, slightly sly demeanor—he’s the very picture of a wily old fox.

“When you marry him, you’ll live a good life,” my father said, patting my head when the proposal came. “But I worry my precious daughter will get swallowed up by him—bones and all.”

On paper, my husband and I are a perfect match. Our family backgrounds line up, everything should have been smooth sailing. But his heart was already set on someone else—someone still tucked away in the inner palace.

The Empress was gracious enough. As soon as my husband entered the palace, she generously gifted him a concubine. And now, the girl kneeling at our feet looked just like the Empress herself.

It’s hard to say who’s making things more awkward for whom.

“What’s the story with him?” my husband asked, handing me a cup of hot tea as if we were discussing a stranger’s troubles. “I don’t take in people without clear backgrounds.”

I shot a glance at the girl on the floor, feeling my cheeks flush. Lowering my voice, I called, “Husband,” and curled my finger, signaling him to lean in.

He looked genuinely surprised, a spark of interest in his eyes as he inclined his head toward me—but still, he kept a respectful distance, sitting upright and perfectly proper. Even so, his eyes never left mine.

“It’s my fault,” I murmured, my voice soft and laced with just the right amount of guilt.

“Go on, Madam,” he said gently, looking at me like he already knew I was up to something.

“My husband will take care of it,” he added, his confidence back in full force.

“I…” I hesitated, feeling my face grow hot. Leaning in close to his ear, I whispered, “I was drunk and accidentally flirted with him.”

Then I pulled back, all innocence.

“You always taught me to be honest and upright. How could I just leave him out to dry?”

His face went ghostly pale, as if he couldn’t quite process what I’d just said, and he froze with his teacup halfway to his lips.

From the corner, the girl couldn’t hold it in anymore and burst out laughing.

Finally, my husband snapped out of it and glared at my blushing face, his own expression stormy and dark as thunder.

When it came time to visit my parents, my husband wasn’t thrilled about it from the start. My mother had never liked him much; she’d always say that Rong Xun’s heart wasn’t really with me, and that if I stayed with him, I’d end up miserable sooner or later.

Honestly, she wasn’t wrong. On our wedding night, he was called away to the palace in a hurry. The very next morning, right after I’d finished serving tea to my in-laws, I was summoned to meet the Empress.

The Empress sat high above us all, her beauty famed throughout the capital. I knelt before her, clutching a cup of scalding hot tea with both hands. My fingertips went numb from the heat, but I didn’t dare move a muscle.

Whenever the tea cooled even a little, the maids would swoop in to refill it with fresh hot water, again and again. By noon, nothing had changed—the hall was stiflingly hot, the only sound the relentless buzz of cicadas. Nobody spoke up for me.

A maid leaned in and whispered to the Empress, “Court should be dismissed early. Master Rong’s carriage already left.”

Only then did the Empress smile in satisfaction and step down from her lofty seat. She came to stand in front of me, looking down as she said, “I heard Rong Xun married you in such a rush that he didn’t even bother with a proper betrothal gift.”

“Here, take this hairpin,” she said, pulling an old one from her own hair and sliding it into mine. “I hope your life together is just like your wedding night—year after year.”

By the time I finally left the palace, I couldn’t hold it together anymore. I collapsed beside the carriage, overcome by the heat.

When I woke up, the night air was cool against my skin. Someone was tending to the burn on my hand. For a moment, half-awake, I thought it was my husband beside me—but it was just a maid.

As soon as she noticed I was awake, her eyes flicked straight to where Rong Xun was sitting by the door. I didn’t dare say a word to him. He just sat there, holding the hairpin the Empress had given me, looking completely lost in thought.

That night, I packed my things and headed back to my mother’s house. I didn’t make it far, though—my eldest sister’s people stopped me halfway and brought me to the palace.

There was a line of white lanterns hanging at the palace gate, swaying wildly in the wind.

“The prince passed away suddenly last night. Miss, please come keep the princess company.”

My sister sat at the head of the bed in mourning clothes, dabbing at her tears and looking utterly frail, surrounded by the old prince’s concubines, all trying to comfort her. When everyone else had finally drifted away, I sat down beside her.

“Sis, don’t be too upset—”

Before I could finish my sentence, the door swung shut and my sister spun around, throwing herself into my arms.

The moment she landed there, she let out a soft, almost gleeful laugh. “Finally! Getting promoted, striking it rich, and sending the old man off—this is the day I’ve been waiting for.”

I shot her a look and whispered, “Seriously, how did the prince die so suddenly?”

She batted her eyelashes and replied, “I wondered the same. I was so careful with the medicine, never gave him too much.”

She leaned in closer, voice dropping to a hush. “But the truth is, he didn’t die peacefully. He was assassinated—collapsed right there at the doorway.” She pointed at the door for emphasis.

Just as she finished, a shadow flickered outside the door, nearly scaring me out of my skin.

“The killer is still around,” she murmured in my ear. “That sword work was vicious and strange—one strike and it was over. The moves were so showy, it looked more like a performance than a murder.”

The prince’s sudden death didn’t put a stop to the banquet. Everything went on as if nothing had happened.

“His Majesty really planned things well,” the prince whispered to my sister, turning his head slightly.

Honestly, it was all wrong. The scene was so lively and festive, if you didn’t know better, you’d think the palace was hosting a wedding instead of a wake.

“The prince is a wise leader,” my sister replied, putting on a humble air.

The prince’s expression was icy as he spoke in a low voice, “The queen looks especially stunning in mourning clothes.”

He said it with such gravity, but every word seemed to drip with flirtation.

I sat lower down, not daring to look up, my eyes darting everywhere until they landed on a young man across the room playing funeral music.

When he played the suona, it sounded more like New Year’s than a funeral.

“If you like him, take him to your room to rest,” my sister teased, giving me a sly wink. “He’s already been paid.”

I quickly shook my head—he looked way too young. No way I could ever be that kind of woman.

“Elder sister?” a soft voice called out.

Inside, the young man stood with a suona in hand, dressed properly in mourning clothes, his face so babyish it looked like you could squeeze water from it.

Swallowing nervously, I asked, “How old are you?”

“Sister, do you think I’m too young?” he frowned, voice soft and just a little wounded.

“Oh, no, it’s not that,” I hurried to explain. “I just think it’s impressive for someone so young to play the suona so well.”

He gave me a shy smile and a little cough. “Don’t worry. I’ve loved the suona since I was a kid. Weddings, funerals—any occasion, I love the excitement.”

I grabbed my cup and took two big gulps of wine, trying to steady my nerves. But the alcohol wasn’t nearly strong enough—soon my whole body felt warm.

“So, what else can you play?”

I was smoothing back my hair when the white crabapple flower pinned in my bun slipped out and tumbled to the floor. The young man, quick as lightning, snatched it out of the air and handed it back to me.

He turned the blossom between his fingers and looked up at me, his eyes so bright and clear that for a second, I almost forgot myself. Maybe the wine was stronger than I thought.

“Well, aren’t you quick with your hands, little brother,” I teased, reaching for the flower, feeling the room spin just a bit.

But as I took it from him, I noticed something odd. “Wait, why are your palms so rough?” I leaned in and brushed my fingers across his hand, finding a callus beneath his ring finger.

“I got that practicing the suona,” he said with a shy smile.

With surprising poise, he placed a steadying hand on my shoulder. “Why are you so damp, brother?” I leaned in, caught the faint scent of blood, and frowned.

He was lightning-fast; before I could look closer, he snapped his fingers and the candle in the room went out, shrouding everything in darkness.

“Sister, would you like to hear me play something else?” he asked, his voice playful in the dark.

Later, I recounted the whole “suona episode” to my husband in vivid detail.

The young lady kneeling next to him looked utterly shocked, practically choking on her own spit. She almost blurted something out, but when she caught my husband’s cold stare, she changed her tune instantly. “I really admire his musical skills! He plays the suona so beautifully!”

That night, Rong Xun left the young man outside my door, instructing him to play his suona into the cold night air, supposedly as a tribute to the late old prince.

I spent the night on the bed in Rong Xun’s study, listening to the sporadic wailing of the suona drifting in from outside. My heart felt sore and heavy.

Meanwhile, Rong Xun sat stiff and upright at his desk, far away from me, his back ramrod straight, a book in his hands, his expression as calm as ever, as if nothing in the world could bother him.

“Husband,” I called softly.

He barely glanced up from his book.

I scooted a little closer, putting on my best pout. “Honestly, I listened for a long time, and his suona playing is really just average.”

He looked away, unmoved. “I think it sounds pretty good.”

Suddenly, the music outside came to an abrupt stop. Not long after, a maid hurried in, reporting, “Sir, the young man fainted from playing the suona.”

“Oh!” I started to get out of bed to check on him.

Rong Xun shot me a cold look, and I instantly shrank back under the covers.

Another maid rushed in, out of breath. “Sir, the master is awake but says he feels unwell and wants to see the lady.”

“If he’s sick, call a doctor. Why does he need to see my wife?” Rong Xun didn’t even bother to look up, flipping the page with a chill in his voice that could freeze the room.

I curled up tighter in the blankets, but I couldn’t help craning my neck to sneak a look at the door—of course, Rong Xun caught me.

His gaze swept over me, and just as he was about to turn away, his eyes lingered on my shoulder where the blanket had slipped down. He paused, staring for a heartbeat longer, before finally turning his head aside. I noticed the corner of his book was bent under the force of his grip.

“He’s already fainted? That’s pretty weak,” Rong Xun said, suddenly switching up his tone. He arched an eyebrow at me, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Madam.”

I whispered back, trying to defend myself, “It’s kind of my fault. I made him play too much these past few days, so it’s no wonder he got dizzy.”

He’s always had sharp ears—he froze for a second, then looked up at me with those sharp eyes that seemed to see right through every little act.

“The prince died so suddenly. I was sad too,” I said, playing the obedient wife, my story rolling off my tongue without a second thought. “I just asked the young man to play some music with me, you know, to mourn.”

Just as I finished, someone outside the door called out, “Sir, the young master said you should scold him. He doesn’t want to embarrass his sister—he’ll take the blame himself.”

Rong Xun set his book down, pressing it flat, and fixed me with a sly fox’s grin. “The first time you hear a suona, you don’t get it. The second time, you know who it’s for. He knows how to play, so he knows when to start and when to stop—don’t you think, madam?”

Lately, the Rong Mansion had become the talk of the town. The sound of the suona echoed for seven days straight, day and night.

“You probably don’t know—Madam Rong is actually the princess’s real sister. It isn’t even the prince’s seventh day, and she’s still deep in mourning,” gossiped the vendors as our carriage pulled onto Chang’an Street. The pancake man and the guy selling green hats were lingering outside our gate, chatting away.

Once inside the palace, I headed straight to my eldest sister’s courtyard. She was in the middle of a squabble with the old prince’s concubines.

“Oh my! Sister, come catch me!”

“Hey, don’t run that way!”

As soon as she spotted me, my eldest sister waved me over. “Xuewei, bring your new heat-clearing soup for your younger sister to try.”

Xuewei smiled and handed me a steaming bowl. “Hurry up and drink, sis—I just learned this recipe.”

But as she passed me the bowl, I noticed the red, scabbed scars covering her wrists—barely any unmarked skin left. I’d heard all the rumors about the old prince’s cruelty and how he’d abducted women from good families, but seeing those old wounds in person made my stomach turn.

Xuewei caught me staring and tried to pull her hand back, but my eldest sister held her gently but firmly.

“Now everyone’s in the ground,” my eldest sister said in a cool, steady voice. “No one can bully you anymore.”

I took a couple of sips of the hot soup, feeling the heat melt away some of the tension in my body.

“My sister’s got a knack for medicine and always shares her prescriptions with the rest of us. We study them together every day,” I explained.

“When I’ve learned enough,” Xuewei added, “I’ll go home with everyone and become a real doctor.”

Just then, the other sisters called her away.

Outside, in the scorching sun, I watched a few of the sisters laughing and waving round fans, bright smiles lighting up their faces.

Xuewei hurried over, holding up her skirt, the hem trailing a faint scent of herbs. It wasn’t alluring or showy—just fresh and clean.

“Do you really think they’ll ever get to go home?” I asked my older sister quietly.

She glanced at the girls outside, a complicated look crossing her face. “In this world, the powerful get whatever they want, and regular folks barely scrape by. Once you step out that gate, there’s no one left to protect you. Forget going home—you might not even make it out of the city. If something happens on the road, there’s nowhere to turn for help.”

“If a woman could truly make her own way by learning a skill, who’d choose to stay trapped in the back courtyard, fighting for scraps of attention all her life? For us, the only way out is to please a man—be his concubine, his wife, or his child’s mother. There’s nothing else.”

In the corner, the shadows of bamboo swayed—maybe it was just the wind, or maybe someone was passing by. My sister stared at the shifting light and shadows, a sneer flickering across her face.

But just as quickly, she masked her feelings, turned back to me with a teasing smile. “Sister, why have you gotten so skinny? You look like you’ve been widowed.”

I pulled a face and explained all about the seven days of endless suona music.

She patted my hand and let out a heavy sigh, then ducked into the house and returned with a small box. She handed me a large black pill. “This is a blow to his pride as a man,” she said. “Find a way to give it to him.”

Chang’an Avenue was packed, carriages crawling forward through the crowds. I looked down at the small box in my hand; the black pill inside felt strangely heavy.

“Now that the old prince is gone, do the 200,000 cavalry belong to the new prince?” someone asked nearby.

“Ha, don’t count on it. The emperor spends all day in the Taoist temple chasing immortality, the queen runs the palace, and the Fu family still calls the shots at court. It’s anyone’s guess who’s really in charge.”

Just then, a pompous fat man in an official’s robe swaggered into the street, only to slam his fist right into my carriage.

“Whose rickety old carriage dares to bump into me?” he barked, yanking open the curtain. “Let’s see who’s inside!”

Caught off guard, I found myself staring straight into his face.

He immediately changed his tune, smoothing his hands together with an oily smile. “Well, well, whose little lady do we have here?”

“Careful, sir,” the clerk next to him hissed. “That’s the Rong Mansion’s carriage.”

“Rong Mansion?” The official narrowed his eyes, giving me a mocking look. “So you must be Madam Rong? Bet Rong Xun hasn’t even laid a finger on you yet, has he?”

The crowd on the sun-baked street had gathered, eager for a show.

All I wanted was to get away, so I tugged at the curtain, ready to leave. But the fat man wouldn’t let go—he grabbed my arm and tried to tug at my sleeve.

Before I could even react, there was a cold flash of steel—a sword came down, severing his wrist clean off.

His hand hit the ground right at my feet, blood spurting everywhere.

His jaw dropped in shock, too stunned to make a sound, while chaos erupted all around. People screamed, “Murder! There’s an assassin!”

The man in black who’d attacked moved with a lazy swagger, yet his blade was deadly accurate. He even took the time to carve a flower onto the fat man’s face.

Bold as daylight and completely unfazed.

He glanced back at me, his eyes icy with just a hint of danger.

“Get him!” someone shouted.

The crowd exploded into chaos, and the man in black vanished like a gust of wind.

Moments later, the guards showed up. The leader, my father’s own protégé, bowed and said, “Madam, don’t be alarmed. This man’s swordplay is unique—he must be the assassin who killed the old prince. Please return home at once and don’t let yourself be frightened again.”

But before my carriage could reach home, it was stopped at the palace gates.

The palace maid who led the way was one of the queen’s. She looked at me with chilly eyes and didn’t say a single word.

My hand had just healed, but my heart was thudding in my chest—I had no idea what kind of trouble I was about to walk into.

We wound through corridor after corridor, blue bricks underfoot and palace walls closing in overhead, making it harder and harder to breathe. The walls seemed to grow taller with every step.

From somewhere nearby, I heard the soft notes of stringed instruments—a banquet was underway in the palace.

The maid led me into the main hall, then slipped away without a trace.

Rong Xun was already seated, his face dark when he saw me. The young lady at his side fussed over him with practiced gentleness, her makeup flawless and her clothes bright and elegant.

Meanwhile, I was dusty and disheveled, making her look every inch the proper wife.

Perched on her high seat, the empress looked down at me, a sly smile at the corners of her mouth.

Everyone’s eyes were on me—some gloating, some coldly amused. Many were my father’s colleagues, but they all pretended not to notice. No one spoke, but I could see the hint of mockery in their expressions.

With nothing else to do, I took a seat behind the young lady.

It wasn’t long before someone at the table piped up, “Why did Madam arrive so late? Only the queen’s kindness could excuse such a mistake.”

This wasn’t a friendly gathering at all—it was a setup, meant to embarrass me in public.

I glanced at Rong Xun, but he just sipped his wine, saying nothing in my defense.

Right on cue, the queen spoke up. “Now that I think about it, isn’t today Lord Rong’s birthday?”

She signaled for someone to bring out a renowned painting. “I just happened to acquire this. I wonder if Lord Rong will like it?”

I recognized the artwork immediately—it was something Rong Xun had always coveted.

The queen smiled, then turned to me. “So, Madam Rong, what special gift have you prepared for your husband?”

All eyes turned on me at once.

Birthday? This was the first I’d ever heard of it.

Rong Xun’s hand froze mid-air, and he glanced my way.

The queen added, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “Or were you just too busy to remember?”

I steadied myself and answered calmly, “It’s just a small gift. I wouldn’t dare show off in front of such discerning guests.”

“That’s fine,” the queen replied, her tone full of false warmth. “I’m curious to see it myself.”

Her expression said plainly she expected nothing good.

Rong Xun looked genuinely surprised, a hint of softness flickering in his eyes as he glanced at me.

I handed the small box to the empress. She opened it, paused when she saw the black pill inside, then her face changed completely. With a sharp snap, she slammed the box shut and shrieked, “Absurd!”

She shot an awkward look at Rong Xun, clearly embarrassed. All around, people were stifling their laughter, heads bent as they whispered to each other. Rong Xun’s face was thundercloud-dark.

Worried everyone might get the wrong idea, I quickly spoke up, “Just one a day is enough—don’t overdo it.” I added, “Too much of this will only do more harm than good.”

Outside, the maids on night watch gossiped in hushed tones, faces blushing red.

“Madam and Master have been in there so long—what could they possibly be up to?”

“The moon’s already up in the trees. It’s the middle of the night. What else would they be doing?”

Inside, Rong Xun sat straight-backed with a book in hand, looking every bit the old-fashioned scholar. Meanwhile, I was squatting on the floor, pounding that stubborn black pill into powder until my arms ached.

“Husband, I think my hands are about to fall off.”

He shot me a sarcastic look, though there was a playful glimmer in his eyes. “What’s a few more? Madam, you’re plenty strong.”

I let out a little groan and went back to mashing, my fingers numb from the effort.

“For now, just stay out of trouble and don’t go running off to the palace,” he said. “Your sister meant well—she’s just worried you’re… well, physically exhausted.”

He raised his eyebrows pointedly, and I quickly shut my mouth.

“The capital’s been a little chaotic lately, so try not to wander around.” For once, he actually sounded gentle and sincere.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached, and an attendant announced, “Sir, Prime Minister Fu’s men were attacked today on Chang’an Street.”

“How did the assassin strike?” Rong Xun asked, stepping to the door.

“The blade was lightning fast—one blow and the victim was gone. And every time, the killer carves a flower into the victim’s face.”

Rong Xun glanced back at me, as if it were nothing, and asked, “What kind of flower?”

“It looked like a crabapple blossom.”

He sounded like a mischievous boy fishing for praise.

The next morning, the boy sulked while I pounded more medicine, grumbling under his breath.

“Sister, why do you only give brother the big black pill? What about me? Did I do something wrong?”

I nearly burst out laughing.

With his strength, he didn’t need medicine—his skills alone were enough to keep me busy.

“This isn’t candy, now. Be good and I’ll give you something else special,” I promised.

The boy’s eyes sparkled with mischief.

Just then, a maid poked her head in. “Madam, the aunt from the palace is here to summon you.”

Ah, looks like staying home really isn’t an option.

The Empress has summoned me so many times, I could write a whole novel about it. Her tactics are always the same: sarcasm, endless tea, making people kneel for hours, and letting you stew in silence.

The palace walls felt suffocating, so thick and heavy even the willow trees outside couldn’t poke their heads through. Clutching a bowl of tea, my knees numb from kneeling, I finally couldn’t take it anymore and just sat down.

The Empress, flipping through a book, looked ready to scold me for my boldness—until I spoke first. “Your Majesty, I have something to present to you.”

She eyed me, half wary, half intrigued. “And what might that be?”

“This one needs to be brought to your inner chambers,” I said.

She followed me into the inner room. As the curtains dropped behind us, a delicate fragrance filled the air.

I produced a towel from my sleeve, holding it out respectfully with both hands. She sniffed it, her brows lifting. “What is this?”

“It’s fresh—straight from the lord’s room,” I replied with a smile. “If Your Majesty likes it, I can bring you something else next time.”

She tossed the towel aside, her voice frosty. “How dare you! Who do you think I am? You really think I’m lacking for nice things?”

With that, I was kicked out, my handkerchief not even returned.

That evening, I was in my usual spot, squatting in the study, grinding up medicine. The boy was beside me, bursting with energy.

The moment Rong Xun walked in, the boy sidled up to my shoulder and whined, “Sister dotes on brother too much—how can you bear to tire yourself out?”

Rong Xun let out a dry laugh and drawled, “Where’d this little bird come from, chirping ‘brother’ all day long? What a strange tune.”

The boy lifted his chin, rubbing against me like he was king of the world. His hair tickled my cheek, and I couldn’t help but giggle. But the second I turned around, I saw Rong Xun’s face had turned stormy.

“Been to the palace again today, Madam?” he asked, shooing the boy away while loosening his belt.

My heart pounded as I stared at the lines under his collar. He caught me looking and his tone softened, “What are you staring at, Madam?”

Feeling a bit bashful, I played dumb. “My husband is in great shape.”

He scoffed, “Isn’t he enough for you to boss around?”

I arched an eyebrow and teased, “What if we bring in a few more young men?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed and he shot me a flustered look. “A few?”

At daybreak, outside the Rong Mansion, the green hat peddler ran into the pancake vendor.

“Da Lang, you’re up early.”

The pancake seller groaned, “Not early—just didn’t sleep all night. The Rong family only just finished seven days of suona, now it’s all night pounding medicine.”

The green hat seller leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “You don’t get it! I heard it’s a big black pill—Rong Xun can’t manage on his own, has to rely on medicine!”

The carriage rolled down Chang’an Avenue toward the imperial city. On either side of the road, refugees from the south knelt, faces gaunt with hunger, some selling off their own children just to survive.

A passerby shook his head as he walked by. “These days, the government’s obsessed with religious rituals. There’s been a drought down south for three years, and no one’s lifting a finger. All the disaster relief money’s been pocketed by crooked officials.”

Behind a wealthy household, someone dumped a pile of leftovers right out the back door, sparking a desperate scramble among the starving. In the end, the city guards broke it up with force and scattered the hungry crowd.

“The Empress says we can skip the tea ceremony today and go straight to the inner chambers.”

I entered the Empress’s bedroom, lifted the curtain, and slipped inside. The palace matrons were clustered around her, helping pin up her hair. I took it all in calmly—next to her pillow, I noticed the sweat towel I’d brought was neatly in place.

“My lady,” I said, handing her my undergarment from last night, “did you sleep well?”

She barely glanced at it; her attendant took it and set it aside. The Empress cleared her throat and eyed me. “I heard you spent the whole night making medicine?”

News travels so fast here, it’s as if the walls have ears.

I knelt and tried to persuade her. “Your Majesty, I actually have a thing for a boy from the music troupe. I simply have to bring him home—I won’t feel settled until I see him every day.”

She looked up from the hairpin in her hand, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’re even more outrageous than the rest.”

I leaned in, lowering my voice. “If hearts are in sync, why not? No matter who he is, I could bring him to serve me.”

She waved away the other women, then quietly asked, “You have a plan?”

“Recently, there’s been a string of high officials getting assassinated outside the palace,” I whispered, wrapping an arm around her. “If something were to happen to him, it wouldn’t be out of the blue. Better to clear his status now and let him become a eunuch to serve Your Majesty.”

By noon, the front of Rong Mansion was bustling again.

“Why are you bawling, green hat peddler?” someone asked. “And where’s the pancake vendor today?”

The cuckold seller squatted by the gate, weeping. “Dalang’s wife cheated on him, poisoned him with a bowl of medicine, and now Dalang’s dead. Dalang’s gone!”

“Enough crying, get lost!” barked the Rong Mansion guards, shooing people away and hanging white lanterns over the gate.

“What happened?” the green hat peddler asked a passerby.

“Haven’t you heard?” The man lowered his voice. “Poor Lord Rong—so young, and killed by thieves right on Chang’an Street.”

A palace carriage pulled up at the gate. My sister stepped out and headed straight for my room.

I was perched at the head of the bed in mourning robes, pretending to dab at my tears, surrounded by people murmuring their sympathy.

“Oh, drop the act already,” my sister said, waving everyone out with a flourish and giving me a teasing grin. “Look at you, grinning from ear to ear.”

“It’s nothing compared to your performance,” I shot back, tossing aside the chili pepper I’d been hiding. “Besides, you’ve put on a little weight these past few days.”

“Oh,” she patted her belly, “I got pregnant by accident.”

I blinked in surprise. “The old prince, huh? Impressive—fathering a child at his age.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not his son, it’s his grandson. Now that I have this baby, the prince should finally make up his mind.”

With that, she pulled a bottle of pills from her sleeve and pressed it into my hand. “You should get moving on your end, too.”

I knew the way to the Empress’s chambers by heart, but today there was a new face at the door that caught my attention.

“Well, if it isn’t the new steward,” I teased, lifting my skirt just slightly. “Looking sharp today.”

Rong Xun was dressed as a eunuch, staring me down with a cold look. “Madam, you may be a widow, but you’re positively glowing.”

I clutched my chest and gave him my best pout. “You’re too kind, but I’m just lonely these days—always wishing I had someone to keep me company at night.”

The Empress rose and called me inside. Her black hair spilled loose, carrying a faint scent of pine.

I stepped close to help arrange her hair, whispering, “Your Highness and the Master are truly fated for each other.”

She covered her mouth and laughed, rolling her eyes at me. “You always know how to flatter.”

I lowered my voice. “I heard the emperor will be leaving the Taoist temple soon. I doubt the journey will last much longer.”

Her expression grew serious. “Do you have a plan?”

“The stars are shifting, and Prime Minister Fu’s power is at its peak. Timing and people both favor him—this is a chance that can’t be missed.”

“How dare you!” The Empress snapped, forcing me to kneel. “Do you realize what you’re saying could doom your entire family?”

I leaned forward, raising the tin of pills. “It’s your call, Your Majesty—life or death, I’ll follow your orders. My father leads the martial sect. I’m ready to give my life for you.”

Late that summer, in the 34th year of Chongdao, the emperor died.

The throne sat empty. The Fu family’s in-laws held all the power. War raged on every front.

One after another, Fu’s officials turned up dead in the streets—each struck down by a single sword, a crabapple blossom carved into the victim’s face.

The people of Kyoto were terrified; no one dared align themselves with the Fu family.

I kept making trips to the palace to see the Empress.

Outside, Rong Xun would be there, sitting quietly, lost in a book, shadows and light flickering across his face, the jade pendant at his waist swaying gently.

“Your Excellency, looking rather dashing in that getup—almost like a royal favorite,” I teased as I passed him.

He didn’t even look up. “Why don’t you ever seem interested in me? You’re a heartless little widow—barely wore mourning for a few days before moving on.”

“I don’t dwell on the past. I just live for the present.”

“I feel at ease when you live so freely.” He finally looked up, his gaze landing on my face as if he wanted to remember it forever.

His eyes flicked toward the inner chambers. “It’s almost the new moon and the full moon.”

“There’s chaos in the capital lately. My lord, please look after the Empress,” I said softly.

The Empress woke, and I was just about to step inside when he suddenly called my name behind me. “Shen Zhilan.”

I turned. He lowered his voice. “You don’t have to wear mourning clothes. Crabapple flowers look far prettier on you.”

As the moon waxed and waned, the prince raised his army, purging the corrupt court, and personally led his cavalry down from the north to storm the capital.

Rong Xun, holding the Empress’s talisman and command of 200,000 soldiers, worked with allies inside and out to break through the palace gates in a single night.

Prime Minister Fu stood cornered, surrounded by only a handful of loyal assassins. The blade of a knife pressed against Rong Xun’s neck, his face twisted with anger and sorrow.

“It was me who helped you rise in court. I even believed you truly loved my daughter—enough to act the part of eunuch, of royal favorite. Turns out I raised a wolf, after all.”

Rong Xun met his gaze, the flicker of swordlight and blood reflecting in his eyes.

“Love can serve a nation. Even a dog can serve the people. If it brings peace to the world, what does my life matter?”

He shouted his order, voice ringing through the palace walls.

“Loose the arrows!”

A thousand arrows darkened the sky. Sparks rained down across the palace, lighting up the night.

Inside the city, fireworks burst overhead, painting the sky with brilliance. Lanterns floated everywhere—a city aglow.

It was on a Ghost Festival night like this, all those years ago, that I first met Rong Xun.

He wore a moon-white robe, a jade pendant at his waist, standing in the lantern light like a figure from a painting. His face was cool, but his eyes were gentle when he looked at me.

“I hear from General Shen you gave up everything just to marry me?” he asked.

I met his gaze without flinching. “I’m a woman, but I want to serve my country, too. If you trust me, Lord Rong, I’ll give you everything I have.”

His voice was quiet, his expression unreadable. “I’m ruthless and not a good man. I might not be able to protect you.”

I smiled, looking him in the eye. “Who says I need protecting? If I can die in a world that’s open and bright, I’ll have no regrets.”

In the thirteenth year of the new calendar, in the heat of midsummer, I set off for the south.

My older sister, now the Empress, sent a parcel from the capital, asking me to deliver it by hand to an old friend.

On the road, every village welcomed us warmly—at one stop, they loaded me up with a basket of just-picked crabapples.

“Girl, you must take these. The harvest is so good this year, we can’t finish them all ourselves!”

I followed the address my sister had given me and soon found myself in a quiet village.

I asked a boy tending cattle for directions, and he eagerly patted his chest. “I know her place! She’s the best doctor around—people from all the neighboring villages come to her when they’re sick.”

Just as he finished, we spotted a young woman with a medicine basket, taking an old man’s pulse.

“Xuewei,” I called softly.

She froze for a second, but when she saw my face clearly, her eyes filled with tears. She rushed over and hugged me tight. “Sister!”

We sat by the edge of the fields for a long while, catching up. She told me about village life, treating patients, and the beautiful scenery in the southern countryside.

That night, I stayed at her house. She kept asking me to stay longer, but I just smiled and shook my head. “The new moon and full moon are just days away. I need to visit an old friend’s grave.”

She asked, “Is it that gentleman?”

I nodded.

She didn’t press further, only asking me to bring a message. “Burn some incense for me, too.”

The road felt familiar—one I’d walked every year. There was no strangeness, just memories.

When I arrived, his tombstone was overgrown with green weeds.

He’d picked this peaceful spot in the south, wanting to watch over the people here.

“Look at you now—no one left to pull your weeds. When I’m too old, who’s going to look after you?” I teased. “Always bossing people around. You used to make me apply medicine for you, now I’m weeding your grave. What a hassle.”

I squatted by the grave, mumbling to myself, when suddenly I heard a soft chuckle behind me.

“How could brother make his sister work so hard?” a young man joked.

I turned and smiled at him. “You’re quick—you caught up to me already.”

I handed him a crabapple, and he handed me a crabapple blossom in return.

Together, we set the flowers and fruit in front of the stone.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

The boy looked at me, curious. “What’s so funny?”

“If he were still alive, he’d be so mad at us, he might just die all over again,” I replied.