Chapter 9 – A Change in the Wind

Chapter 9 – A Change in the Wind

The following day, after the morning court session.

Zhan Changfeng had a rare day of rest and did not accompany the old Emperor to the Hall of Statecraft.

Tall walls on either side carved a sliver of sky above the corridor, which stretched out endlessly as though it had neither beginning nor end.

Two sedan chairs approached each other from opposite directions.

Zhan Changfeng rubbed the ink-jade thumb ring on her finger, her eyes cast slightly downward. “Stop.”

As soon as her side stopped, the other had no choice but to stop as well.

“Your Highness, it is the Lady’s sedan chair.”

“I know.”

Zhan Changfeng stepped down from the sedan chair. Pure white snow fell from the sky, settling on the Dragon-Claw Golden Crown and on her slender shoulders.

A single flake landed on her eyelashes, dark as raven feathers, nearly dissolving into a drop of water.

“This subject greets Mother Consort and wishes her good health.”

There was a long silence from behind the curtain before a faint “Mm” finally came through.

Zhan Changfeng seemed to have come for no reason other than to pay her respects. Having received a reply, she stepped aside and allowed Li Yunqiu’s sedan chair to pass first.

“Your Highness,” the chief steward opened an umbrella over her, “shall we head back?”

Zhan Changfeng gazed at the towering walls and narrow passage, a dark light rising and falling in her eyes. “I grew up here, yet I have never really taken the time to know it.”

“Come, keep me company as I take a look around the palace.”

She did not take the sedan chair, but walked alone through the wind and snow, passing through pavilions and halls, strolling past waterside gazebos and ornamental terraces. A faint melancholy lingered around her, refusing to dissipate. “I suppose I was born with thin ties of kinship.”

“. . .” The chief steward’s heart gave a sudden lurch. “Your Highness, please do not sell yourself short. His Majesty and the Lady care about no one more than they care about you.”

Hall of Statecraft.

Li Yunqiu knelt on the ground. “That is how matters stand. Concealing Chonghua’s existence, swapping Zhan’s identity, deceiving His Majesty — all of it was done at my instigation. I submit myself to whatever punishment His Majesty sees fit, and I only ask that His Majesty correct this error and restore both of them to their rightful places.”

The old Emperor’s expression was unreadable. For a long time, he said nothing.

“Who else knows of this matter?”

Li Yunqiu dared not conceal anything and answered truthfully.

“Only this subject and Wang Liang — the chief steward.”

“Restore them to their rightful places…” The old Emperor closed his eyes. His voice was unusually hoarse, like a blade scraping across iron. “Why did you not speak up sooner?”

“Chonghua’s constitution was far too frail in those early years. I feared he would not live long. Fortunately, Heaven took pity on him and allowed him to survive.”

“Then tell me — how should Zhan fare in all of this?” The old Emperor’s voice was heavy, each word striking the empty hall like the toll of a bell. “A frail constitution — is that truly your reason for hiding the truth? If he was so frail, why not simply let him remain frail!”

Li Yunqiu was stunned. Year after year — one, two, three — she had always learned from Li Mao just how close this son raised outside the palace had come to death’s door. She had already felt deep guilt toward him, and she could not bear to see him dragged into the struggles of the court. All she had wanted was for him to live a little longer, a little more peacefully.

On the other hand, as Zhan Changfeng grew older, she had feared her daughter’s true gender could not be kept secret forever. She feared she would be unable to carry on the family line, feared she would live a life of suffering, feared that the higher she climbed, the harder she would fall.

Yet with Li Chonghua’s recovery, all of those fears had been resolved at a stroke.

“Chonghua is, after all, the Yi Family’s only male heir. To share Your Majesty’s burdens is both his duty and his obligation.” Li Yunqiu paused, her voice full of hope and entreaty. “If it is possible, I pray that His Majesty might restore Zhan to her identity as a daughter. This subject only wishes for her to find a good husband and live a life of peace and happiness.”

Red plum blossoms bled their color, white flowers stood pristine and unadorned. Zhan Changfeng snapped off two sprigs, the corner of her lips curling upward in a smile that was at once open and cold. “People always say this palace has buried the years of so many souls, has trapped so many hearts capable of feeling — but to me, it is my fortune. It is the pedestal from which I look down upon the world. It placed me at the highest vantage point from the very beginning, drawing me ever closer to what is real.”

“I am able to stand at the pinnacle of this civilization and observe the tides of history with clarity, the rise and fall of eras — yet the more I see, the more keenly I feel my own smallness.”

Zhan Changfeng’s eyes gleamed with brilliant starlight, resolute and unyielding. “It is not enough. Wang Liang, it is not enough. What I want is not limited to this — I want more.”

The old chief steward did not understand her ambition, but he sincerely believed that only the most beautiful things, the most powerful authority, and the sharpest sword were worthy of her.

Yet the words Zhan Changfeng spoke next drained all color from the old steward’s face.

“Mother believes that by telling the Imperial Grandfather my true gender, she can help Li Chonghua reclaim the position of Crown Prince.” A low laugh rose from deep in her chest and spilled past her throat. “She understands nothing about power.”

The old chief steward was so frightened that he dropped to his knees on the stone path. The cold wetness soaking through both knees went unnoticed. “Your Highness, have you perhaps misunderstood something? Young Master Li — how could he possibly contend with you for the position of Crown Prince?”

“You are loyal indeed, still protecting her even now.” Zhan Changfeng toyed with the red and white plum blossoms in her hand, letting out a quiet sigh. “I have no intention of harming her — she is my mother.”

Half the people in this palace were hers. Had she truly wished to stop it, Li Yunqiu would never have reached the Hall of Statecraft.

But it was perhaps for the best that this layer of paper covering the window had been torn away. She had grown weary of it.

The old chief steward trembled as he watched her expression. That trace of relief she showed was not feigned — this was plainly the sort of matter that ought to have destroyed her future entirely, yet it seemed as though it had freed her from some invisible restraint. Even the oppressive gloom that had perpetually shadowed her had vanished without a trace.

A servant does not serve two masters. The old chief steward had originally been Li Yunqiu’s man, and even now he occasionally helped her with certain matters — a grave transgression.

Yet after waiting a long while, he still did not hear Zhan Changfeng order any punishment for him. Trembling, he steadied himself to his feet, bowed, and followed behind her in silence, not daring to utter a single word.

Days passed ordinarily, without a ripple — the only change being that Li Yunqiu had been quietly placed under house arrest, and Li Chonghua was nowhere to be seen.

When Zhan Changfeng took the slip of paper from the steward’s hand, the steward’s eyes were red-rimmed as he kowtowed to the ground. “This old servant begs you to visit the Lady just once.”

A flick of the wrist, and the slip of paper was shredded to dust by her inner energy. “The Bureau of Ceremonial Robes is short-staffed. Go there.”

The old chief steward prostrated himself in tears. “This servant thanks Your Highness for your grace.”

The gates of Yongxiu Palace were locked tight. Only guards were visible — not a single attendant in sight.

“Open it.”

The inner chamber was dim and dark, like the dwelling of a person in their twilight years, thick with the scent of old age.

The impeccably made-up Lady sat composed upon the couch, appearing no different from her usual self — yet her figure had grown noticeably thinner.

“What did you do? What have you done with Chonghua?” It was not an accusation exactly, yet the coldness and resistance in her expression were those of someone looking at an enemy.

Had this been an ordinary child, to be treated so by her own birth mother would have long since shattered her spirit and broken her heart.

But fortunately, Zhan Changfeng had been born into an imperial family — and what the imperial family needed least of all was superfluous, meaningless sentiment.

Zhan Changfeng stood with her hands at her sides. “That question, you should direct to the Imperial Grandfather.”

“Do you need me to lay it out for you, Mother?” She regarded her from a measured distance, her tone indifferent. “Yi Zhan is the Crown Prince, the future Emperor — an incontestable fact in the minds of ministers and common people alike. To put it plainly, from the moment the Imperial Grandfather first held me in his arms and brought me to court, I was already the symbol of the Yin Dynasty. To abruptly drag me down and replace me with some unknown imperial grandson who appeared out of nowhere — do you think the people of this realm would accept that?”

“In a time of unrest, how could the Imperial Grandfather possibly allow such a thing to happen?”

Li Yunqiu’s lips moved. “The position of Crown Prince should rightfully belong to Chonghua.”

“What are you thinking, Mother?” Zhan Changfeng studied her with narrowed eyes. “There is no ‘should’ or ‘should not’ — only ‘can’ or ‘cannot.'”

“Do you truly believe the Imperial Grandfather merely wanted a grandson? What he wants is an Emperor.”

“Do you believe you can be Emperor?” Li Yunqiu stared at her as though she were seeing this daughter for the first time, utterly shocked. “You want to become Emperor!”

“Why would I not? I have been preparing for it since birth. If I did not want it, this palace could not keep me.” Zhan Changfeng had every right to say it.

“Impossible. Chonghua is the one who ought to be Emperor.” Li Yunqiu frowned. “What have you done with him?”

“Did I not already explain? The Imperial Grandfather wants an Emperor — gender is irrelevant. And so there are two possibilities. The first: I continue as the Crown Prince, and then become Emperor. I will take a wife in my lifetime, but there will be no children — though that matters little. Your precious Chonghua will become a reproductive instrument for the imperial bloodline.”

“And the second?” Zhan Changfeng smiled. “The Imperial Grandfather has him kept safe and protected, personally instructing him in every art of rulership. When he has sufficiently mastered these skills, he will emerge to eliminate me. After all, one who has been able to use me as a whetstone is already not far from becoming a qualified Emperor.”

“In either case, the Crown Prince, right now, can only be me.”

Li Yunqiu was left utterly speechless by this raw and merciless dissection of reality. A chill settled deep in her heart. “You understand all of this so clearly — then why do you still want to be entangled in these muddy waters? What do you actually seek?”

“You have it wrong, Mother. This is what circumstance demands — it cannot be avoided.” Zhan Changfeng’s voice was low and measured. “But it is also what I desire.”

“Do you understand, Mother? The things that are mine have only ever been given up by me — they have never been taken by another. Let alone the fact that my freedom and my pursuits are both grounded in my current position. How could you ask me to let go?”

Zhan Changfeng said: “Should there come a day when anyone attempts to obstruct my ambitions, whether in the depths of the Yellow Springs or the heights of the Azure Heavens, I will make certain that person wishes they were dead.”

“Mother Consort, you should be grateful — I am still the Crown Prince.”