The days after my illness had healed felt as though time itself had been slowed.
The Su Residence became an even more exquisite cage. My "heroic feat" of jumping into the water to save someone had, in the eyes of my family, turned into an act of "reckless folly" that needed to be thoroughly corrected, as well as a "hidden danger" that had to be guarded against at all costs.
Father almost no longer allowed me out of his sight. If he had to go out to handle affairs, he would instruct the wet nurse and several trusted maids to take shifts watching me. Even when I went to the study to fetch a book, there were always at least two people following behind me.
By Grandmother's order, everything in my courtyard that might "cause danger" was cleared away. The rockeries were removed, the pond was filled in, and even slightly raised stone steps were rebuilt into gentle slopes. Wind lanterns were newly installed at the four corners of the courtyard, ensuring that even at night it was as bright as day, leaving not a single shadowed blind spot.
I truly became a jade figurine placed upon a brocade platform, fragile enough to shatter at the slightest touch.
Daily recuperation became an unchanging routine. Upon waking, a bowl of warm ginseng-and-astragalus porridge to nourish qi and blood; in the morning, a decoction newly prescribed by the imperial physician to strengthen the foundation and restore vitality; in the afternoon, stewed tonics with precious medicinal ingredients; and before bed, a sweet soup to calm the spirit and aid sleep. What I ate, wore, and used—everything was strictly selected to ensure it was "gentle" and "harmless."
My body seemed to agree with such arrangements. The coughing came and went, always worsening again just as it seemed about to improve, brought on by a light breeze or a night rain. Cold hands and feet were a deeply rooted problem; even in high summer I needed to wear thin socks. My energy was as thin as paper—reading for more than half an hour made me dizzy, and playing a single piece on the zither left me short of breath.
The youth in the mirror had the pallor of someone who rarely saw sunlight, his figure more slender and frail than boys his age. Only his eyes, because of the unwilling soul within, would occasionally flash with a clarity that did not match this sickly shell.
I learned deeper concealment. In front of Father and Grandmother, I was the most gentle and obedient Yuzhi—taking my medicine on time, quietly nurturing my health, raising no objections to any arrangement. Only when alone, or when my elder sisters occasionally slipped in to see me, would I reveal a trace of my true emotions.
Second Sister Su Fei understood me best. She was now a prominent figure at the Imperial Academy, her knowledge and insights praised even by some of the old scholars. She would secretly bring me forbidden books—not obscene things, but miscellaneous works on military strategy, agriculture, even mechanical devices. In her words: "Why shouldn't men know these things? Knowing more never hurts."
"Yuzhi, do you know there's fighting again on the northern border?" she once said to me in a lowered voice. "The Eighth Princess's forces have won battle after battle, her momentum soaring. There are already rumors at court—perhaps… the struggle for the heir's position is about to be brought into the open."
My fingers tightened slightly on the page. "Then… what about the Third Princess?"
Su Fei glanced at me, her expression complicated. "Her? Still silent as ever, burying herself in tedious matters like administrative audits and grain-and-funds inspections. Some days ago she uncovered an old deficit in the Ministry of Revenue and offended Minister Li—that man belongs to the First Princess's faction. The sovereign did not reprimand her, but neither did she reward her. Instead, Dejun threw a tremendous tantrum in the palace, saying she 'only knows how to stir up trouble.'"
I fell silent. Before my eyes seemed to reappear that half-worn blue robe, and the figure sinking in despair into the pool.
"She… must be having a hard time, right?"
"More than hard." Su Fei sighed. "She has no powerful maternal clan to support her, her birth father was of low rank and died early, and she's practically invisible in the palace. Worse still, she's thoughtful and stubborn, unwilling to fully attach herself to any side. Now that several of the princesses' wings have grown, someone like her is the easiest to become a target."
A target. I rolled the word around in my mouth, my chest feeling stifled.
"Eldest Sister has also been troubled lately," Su Fei changed the subject. "Factional struggles within the Imperial Guard are fierce. Though she's secured her footing through military merit, she still has to be careful at every step, afraid of making a mistake that could implicate the family."
Implicate the family. It was a sword hanging over the heads of every member of the Su clan. Glory and risk coexisted—one step to heaven, one step to the abyss. And I, this young master who seemed the most protected, was in fact the most fragile link. Any slight 'misstep' of mine could become someone else's excuse to attack the Su family.
This awareness made me even more cautious, pressing down even deeper the ripples in my heart stirred by Xiao Yuhuang.
The days passed in an outwardly calm flow. I turned twelve.
According to the customs of this world, when noble men reached this age, they were to begin systematically learning the "ways of preparing for marriage"—managing the inner household, conditioning the body, mastering the arts, all in preparation for marrying into a great family in the future and taking charge of domestic affairs.
Grandmother invited an old matron surnamed Yan, said to have once instructed the sons of two commandery princes. She was three parts stricter than the one from the palace before.
"The young master's looks are first-rate, but you must understand—when a woman takes a husband, virtue comes first, talent second, and only then appearance," Matron Yan said sternly as she began teaching me how to distinguish fabric qualities, manage storeroom accounts, arrange banquet procedures, and even how to interact "with dignity and propriety" with a future wife's other consorts.
My scalp tingled as I listened, yet I could only lower my head and respond, "Yes."
Father took this very seriously. He personally selected and matched my scented sachets and jade pendants, and even invited the best embroiderers in the capital to teach me more intricate needlework. "Yuzhi, you will be the principal consort in the future. You must be proficient in all of this." His eyes were full of expectation for my future—expectation that weighed heavily on me.
I could feel that a "suitable" marriage was already being brewed by the family. Perhaps the legitimate daughter of some powerful household, perhaps a secondary consort of some princess… in any case, it would certainly be a choice that could "bring glory to the Su family."
And I seemed to have no right to refuse.
Amid this suffocating "calm," I had my second truly meaningful encounter with Xiao Yuhuang.
It was a drizzly autumn afternoon. Matron Yan's lesson had just ended, and feeling somewhat weary, I reclined on the couch by the window to rest. The rain pattered softly, carrying a chill.
Suddenly, faint clamor drifted in from beyond the courtyard wall, mixed with the sounds of hooves and wheels, and a woman's rough shouting.
I frowned. The street where the Su Residence stood was lined with noble households and was usually extremely quiet; such noise was rare.
A quick-witted little maid ran out to inquire and soon returned, her face pale, her voice lowered. "Young master, it's… it's the Ministry of Justice escorting the prison carts of convicted officials. It seems to be… the family members of that Vice Minister Li whom the Third Princess exposed for embezzlement some days ago. The male relatives are being sent to the Court of Entertainment, the female relatives exiled to the northern frontier… They're being paraded through the streets."
Vice Minister Li? I recalled what Second Sister had said—that Xiao Yuhuang had offended the First Princess's faction because of this man.
I stood and walked to the inside of the courtyard gate. Through the crack, I could see the scene on the street.
The autumn rain was cold, the stone-paved road slick. Several dilapidated prison carts moved slowly under guard. In the front cart were several disheveled women, their eyes numb with despair. In the carts behind were men, young and old alike, shivering in the autumn rain, their expressions miserable and frightened. Onlookers on both sides pointed and whispered; occasionally rotten vegetables and stones were thrown, answered by soldiers' shouts and the prisoners shrinking back even more.
The scene was chaotic and oppressive.
At that moment, a small cart covered in blue cloth turned the corner of the street. Its style was ordinary, but the horse pulling it was spirited, and the servant woman driving it had sharp, alert eyes. The cart seemed to have passed by at just the wrong moment; blocked by the crowd and the prison carts, it had no choice but to stop.
A pale, slender hand lifted the carriage curtain slightly.
With just one glance, I recognized those eyes.
Xiao Yuhuang.