Chapter 13
“Those afflicted with night blindness may see well by day, but come nightfall—even at dusk—their eyes seem veiled by a mist, rendering objects before them indistinct...” The emperor sat upright in the grand tutor’s chair, the royal physician’s departing words echoing in his ears, a faint, restrained smile playing at the corners of his lips.
On the imperial desk lay a book, beside it a candlestick whose glass shade flickered as the flame danced restlessly. The firelight cast wavering shadows across the emperor’s noble features, his brows stern and eyes deep.
Night blindness...
The emperor reflected carefully on his interactions with that young lady—from their first meeting to their later encounter by the Taiye Pool, and then the time she fell asleep aboard the boat, when he came to check on her, and they exchanged embroidered sachets and hairpins.
Bit by bit, every phrase, every gesture replayed endlessly in his mind.
Details he had once overlooked now stood out with clarity, such as:
When she looked at him, she always began by squinting slightly, her eyes moving in circles as if searching for something in the air before finally settling on his face.
Even then, most of the time she avoided direct eye contact; her gaze always veered aside.
At the time, he dismissed it as shyness—after all, for a young lady to meet him secretly was improper, and some modest reserve was to be expected.
Another example: the day he asked her to arrive early at Yuxi Palace, she had clearly been taken aback, but he had paid no mind. Now, he realized she must have wondered why he had requested that.
Moreover, she never addressed him as “Your Majesty” or “Imperial Lord,” only ever using the polite “You.”
That “You” could have referred to him—or to someone else entirely.
...
The emperor pressed his lips together, snapping the book shut with a sharp sound. His eyes, as dark as ink, seemed unfathomable.
So many glaring inconsistencies, yet he had completely ignored them.
Now, he was forced to face an undeniable truth—
That young lady had never truly seen his real face from beginning to end.
If that was the case—
The emperor lifted his eyes slightly.
Who, then, had she mistaken him for?
Prince Ning.
His son.
The answer was obvious.
She had been summoned by the Empress Dowager to be matched with Prince Ning; their secret meetings and her attempts to win his favor made perfect sense.
The young lady had neither lied nor harbored sinister motives; from start to finish, it was all a case of mistaken identity, a heart misplaced.
An unspoken irritation rose in the emperor’s heart. He reopened the book before him and leaned back in his chair, furrowing his brows slightly.
“What is that scent in the hall?”
A eunuch attendant entered, kneeling. “My lord, it is the usual ambergris incense favored by His Majesty.”
“Remove it.”
The eunuch hesitated.
The emperor had never before complained of the fragrance being too strong. Today, however, was different.
The eunuch swiftly carried away the gold-wire filigree enamel incense burner from the rosewood table. Outside, he met Wang Zhi lifting the curtain to enter and silently motioned to him.
Wang Zhi understood immediately, signaling the eunuch to leave as he himself carried a bowl of fresh lotus seed soup into the hall.
“My lord, this is freshly prepared by the Imperial Kitchen. Please try some.”
The emperor made a faint sound but remained seated, eyes fixed on the book.
After a moment’s deliberation, Wang Zhi said, “Miss Shen did not deceive Your Majesty. The Empress Dowager and the imperial household’s dignity remain intact. You should be pleased.”
The emperor glanced up at him; Wang Zhi quickly lowered his head.
Indeed, it was all a misunderstanding.
No one else knew, not even Shen herself.
As long as he could forget everything between them from here on out, all would be well.
She would still be the Empress Dowager’s chosen bride for Prince Ning, and he would remain the exalted emperor, her future grandfather-in-law.
The emperor lowered his gaze. After a moment, he asked, “What is her name?”
“Shen Hehui.”
The name, once spoken on the day of the intended betrothal amid crimson quilts and whispered intimacy, now sounded strange—no different from the indistinct faces of palace maids and attendants, stirring no emotion.
“Tell the Palace Administrators to teach Miss Shen the proper rules henceforth, and to tell her not to wander about without cause.”
With an expressionless command finished, the emperor finally lowered his eyes, setting the book down. “Bring it here.”
—
After Hehui was sent back, Yao Zhu was startled, fearing she had gotten into some trouble outside. Later, upon hearing that she had merely fainted from a chill, she relaxed.
She stayed by her bedside all night. By the next day’s noon, Hehui slowly awoke.
Yao Zhu got up to bring her some food but returned to find Hehui sitting on the bed, crying.
Her tears were unlike anyone else’s.
Usually, tears evoke pity, soft like pear blossoms in the rain. But hers were different.
She stared wide-eyed straight ahead, tossing a small sandbag on the bed, tears streaming down relentlessly as she played.
To an uninformed observer, it might seem as if she were possessed.
Yao Zhu recalled Hehui had cried only twice before: once on her first night in the palace when the noise made her think a mouse was disturbing the hall, and now.
Yao Zhu collected the sandbag and sat beside her. “Are you still unwell, miss?”
Hui He shook her head vacantly, then looked at Yao Zhu. “Sister Yao Zhu, I’m going to die.”
Yao Zhu’s face changed. She covered Hehui’s mouth, saying, “Miss, be careful what you say. Such words are not to be spoken lightly.”
But Hehui insisted, “Prince Ning said I have committed a crime and that my entire clan will be executed.”
She then recounted the events of that night near the Yuhua Pavilion, inside the ear chamber, to Yao Zhu.
Yao Zhu listened, puzzled. “You must be delirious.”
She touched Hehui’s forehead. “That day, before dark, the young master was called away early. I heard it was because Yao Lady accidentally twisted her ankle and he went to see her.”
She glanced at Hehui’s expression. Seeing no response, she continued, “There was no nightfall or threat to punish you. Besides, only the emperor can issue orders to execute an entire clan—not even the Empress Dowager. The young master wouldn’t dare say such things.”
Hehui stared blankly, murmuring, “Was I dreaming? Did I hallucinate?”
Pausing, she shook her head. “No, I remember—it really was Prince Ning. He scared me... he even—”
Suddenly, she pulled back her left sleeve and showed her wrist to Yao Zhu. “He held onto me and wouldn’t let go. Look.”
Yao Zhu sighed. “Miss, your wrist was injured yesterday when you fell, pulled by a young eunuch.”
She looked somewhat helplessly at Hehui. “Your forehead’s still a bit warm. I’ll fetch some medicine.”
With that, she rose and left.
The room fell silent with Hehui alone, sitting dazed on the couch.
Had she really been delirious? But why did it feel so real?
She could still clearly recall the terrifying tone in Prince Ning’s voice when he spoke near her ear.
—
This time, the medicine was effective, and within a few days, Hehui was fully recovered.
Because she fainted at the banquet hosted by the Empress Dowager and the emperor in honor of Lady Chengyi, an indiscretion, she immediately went to the Empress Dowager’s palace to apologize.
Fortunately, the Empress Dowager held no grudge, instead clasping her hand and speaking kindly.
“It’s the fault of the subordinates. You never told me your illness wasn’t fully healed and ended up suffering so much.”
Hehui quickly took responsibility, insisting it was her own fault. The Empress Dowager patted her hand gently. “Good child.”
Later, when the emperor came to pay respects, Hehui was startled and hastily stepped aside.
The emperor entered the hall, seemingly not noticing her, spoke briefly with the Empress Dowager, and then left.
Hehui let out a silent breath.
She found it strange: if it was Prince Ning threatening to execute her clan in her hallucination, why did her heart race so fast whenever the emperor approached?
Most likely, it was because father and son resembled each other so much that in her dreams she confused Prince Ning for the emperor.
After he left, Li Yuanjing finally arrived, albeit late.
Seeing him, Hehui remained calm, secretly clutching her chest.
It was truly strange.
The Empress Dowager exchanged a few casual words with Prince Ning, advising him to study diligently with his tutor. Li Yuanjing responded affirmatively and was about to leave when the Empress Dowager said to Hehui, “Go see your young master off.”
Hehui paused, then nodded.
At first, Li Yuanjing seemed reluctant. Then, as if recalling something, his expression changed, and he unexpectedly waited for Hehui.
She was overwhelmed with delight.
Usually, Prince Ning wouldn’t spare her a glance; today, he was breaking precedent by waiting for her. How could she not cherish the moment?
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