As soon as these words were spoken, a faint murmur of surprise rippled through the entire Hanchun Hall.

"Commanding the Fifth Princess to perform a dance?"

"Isn’t this treating Her Highness like a courtesan? How can this be allowed!"

"This is simply absurd…"

The ministers below whispered among themselves, while the noblewomen and ladies-in-waiting beside them exchanged varied expressions, all turning their gazes toward Saihan and Zhao Chu.

In Daxuan, women had always valued modesty and restraint, prioritizing inner cultivation and virtue. Even common women from respectable families would not casually sing or dance in public, let alone a royal princess like Her Highness!

How dare these Turkic barbarians be so bold!

Fang Linyuan was also slightly stunned.

Zhao Chu’s identity was already sensitive. Every word and action had to be carefully considered—how could she dance in public? Moreover, no one had ever heard of Zhao Chu having any skill in dancing. Saihan’s request was clearly meant to embarrass her.

He quickly turned to look at Zhao Chu.

Zhao Chu’s expression was indifferent, as if the commotion had nothing to do with him.

His gaze swept across the high platform, cold and calm.

Saihan, unable to hide her smugness and provocation, turned her head and gave Zhao Chu a radiant smile.

Seeing this, Fang Linyuan’s brows furrowed deeply.

If Saihan wanted to see Zhao Chu humiliated, she should at least understand the situation. She was now in the imperial city of Daxuan, and seated on the high platform was Zhao Chu’s own father. No matter how distant their relationship, blood was thicker than water. The emperor would never allow his daughter to be publicly humiliated like this…

But at that moment, he heard Emperor Hongyou’s voice.

"Oh? The reward you want is to see my daughter dance?"

Fang Linyuan was slightly taken aback.

The emperor’s tone was still light and cheerful, as if he were making a gentle joke rather than posing a question.

Before him, Saihan turned her head, smiling brightly and boldly.

"Your Majesty, it’s a competition," she said. "We are both princesses, so surely we are the same, no? In the Turkic lands, every princess can sing and dance. Since I can dance, surely Princess Huining can too, right?"

At this, Saihan raised her eyebrows and asked Emperor Hongyou, "Your Majesty, surely the princess isn’t afraid, is she?"

Emperor Hongyou laughed heartily. "Of course not."

Then, he raised his voice and addressed the hall, "Huining, Princess Saihan is inviting you."

Fang Linyuan looked at Emperor Hongyou in surprise.

The emperor’s eyes, still smiling warmly, were fixed on Saihan, not even sparing a glance for Zhao Chu.

Though the request was directed at him, he did not refuse but instead passed the problem directly to Zhao Chu.

Had His Majesty considered how Zhao Chu would face this situation in the future?

If the Turkic princess performed a dance in the court, it would be nothing more than a delightful anecdote. She had not been educated in the classics, nor did she understand the virtues and teachings of women. Society would not judge her harshly, but Zhao Chu was different.

She would be discussed, criticized, and become the subject of gossip and jokes.

But to Emperor Hongyou, these things seemed unimportant.

It seemed that, compared to Zhao Chu, demonstrating Daxuan’s openness and tolerance to the Turks was the top priority.

Or perhaps he simply didn’t care about Zhao Chu’s reputation and dignity as a woman, smiling gently as he allowed Saihan to push her into a position of ridicule and amusement.

Zhao Chu, sitting beside Fang Linyuan, remained silent.

He had always been this way, responding to Emperor Hongyou with coldness and silence, appearing rude and disappointing, inviting others to gossip, point fingers, and keep their distance.

But Fang Linyuan felt a surge of indignation.

What else could he do but remain silent? Should he make a scene and refuse in front of everyone?

Just then, he heard Empress Jiang’s gentle voice from the high platform. "Huining, this is just a friendly competition between the two of you. Winning or losing doesn’t matter."

As she spoke, she smiled warmly and looked at Saihan below. "This is the first time I’ve seen the Turkic bell dance, and it’s truly eye-opening. Princess Saihan is still young and full of curiosity. It’s only natural that she wants to see the grace of the women of Great Xuan."

She had always been like this—gentle and understanding.

But Saihan on the jade platform only glanced at her lightly before turning her gaze away indifferently.

How could there truly be a gentle and understanding wife? It was all just an act. Heaven had matched one male wolf with a pack of female wolves, forcing them to fight, struggle, and determine who was stronger and who was weaker.

Otherwise, why would women in high positions deserve better gold, silver, and men? And why would the men on the high platform deserve more women and livestock?

She didn’t care about that pretentious old woman. Her eyes remained fixed on Zhao Chu, waiting for her reaction.

If there was to be a fight, only the youngest and most beautiful one was worthy of being her opponent.

She stared at Zhao Chu, waiting for her to be forced onto the high platform to compete or to back down and admit defeat.

Her burning eyes were fixed on Zhao Chu, awaiting her victory.

But just then, she saw Fang Linyuan stand up.

The golden-red  robe shimmered brilliantly in the resplendent hall, but even more dazzling was his face, as clear and handsome as the snow atop a mountain peak.

"Your Majesty, please forgive my impertinence, but I find this inappropriate."

Under the hesitant gazes of the crowd, he alone stood tall and straight, bowing respectfully toward the high platform.

*

Since all the arrows were pointed at Zhao Chu, and as a woman, she had no way to argue, these words would have to come from him.

Fang Linyuan stood up directly.

After bowing, he raised his head respectfully but fearlessly to look at the emperor on the high platform.

Emperor Hongyou, seated on the throne, paused slightly, then smiled kindly and asked, "What are your thoughts, my dear subject?"

"The customs and cultures of the Turks and Daxuan are as different as heaven and earth," Fang Linyuan declared clearly.

"The Turks excel at singing and dancing, while the women of Daxuan are skilled in music, chess, poetry, and painting. If this is an exchange and competition, it should be fair, with each side showcasing their strengths."

"General, are you saying that Princess Huining cannot dance?" Saihan interjected.

"Your Highness did not understand the poetry Your Majesty recited earlier, yet His Majesty did not reprimand her, nor did she feel embarrassed or ashamed," Fang Linyuan replied. "So what difference does it make whether she can dance or not?"

Saihan pouted.

"I’m just asking Princess Huining to dance. Why are you bringing up poetry again?"

She didn’t understand the meaning behind Fang Linyuan’s words, and his words weren’t directed at her anyway.

He stood tall, his eyes sincere and solemn, looking toward Emperor Hongyou.

He was using this method to address the emperor, suggesting that even though diplomatic relations between the two nations were at stake, since he could forgive Saihan’s shortcomings, there was no need to push Zhao Chu to such an extent and embarrass her.

He had presented his argument, and if Emperor Hongyou relented, allowing Zhao Chu to compose a poem or write a piece of calligraphy, the matter could be brushed aside without dragging Zhao Chu into the gossip and ridicule of the court and the common people.

But Emperor Hongyou remained silent.

He even smiled faintly, as if he hadn’t heard Fang Linyuan’s words, calm and composed, as though Fang Linyuan was merely having a private conversation with Saihan.

Fang Linyuan slowly exhaled.

The subtle message had been thrown into the barn, and the one who truly understood the music was sitting on the sidelines, waiting to watch his performance with the ox.

Fang Linyuan gritted his teeth.

Fine, then he would address Saihan directly…

But at that moment, his sleeve was gently tugged by the person beside him.

He turned abruptly and saw Zhao Chu, sitting beside him, looking up at him calmly.

Then, with one hand, she smoothed the jade beads in her hair, lowered her eyes, and stood up.

Her flowing diyi robe resembled a celestial maiden standing atop the clouds in a New Year’s painting. Her expression was calm, but with just one glance, her beauty was sharp and striking.

"You insist on competing, don’t you?" she asked Saihan.

Her icy eyes were piercing, and for a moment, Saihan was slightly stunned.

Caught off guard, Saihan opened her mouth but found herself unable to make a sound under Zhao Chu’s sudden, intense gaze.

In the next moment, there was a sharp clang, and a cold light flashed.

Zhao Chu drew the sword from Fang Linyuan’s waist in one swift motion. With a flick of her wrist, the three-foot-long blade spun in her hand, creating a dazzling sword flourish before he rested it behind his back.

For a moment, he resembled a celestial maiden wielding a sword, a Bodhisattva with wrathful eyes.

He stood there, lifting his head.

Though he was looking up at Emperor Hongyou on the high platform, his eyes were filled with coldness and disdain, as though he were standing high above the clouds, looking down on his filth and disgrace.

Emperor Hongyou, seated on the throne, leaned back slightly.

It was an instinctive flinch, as if repelled, disgusted, or even gripped by a deep-seated fear.

But Zhao Chu wasn’t looking at him.

He merely tilted his head slightly, and asshe stood there with an imposing presence, he gave Fang Linyuan a reassuring glance.

He was telling him to stay calm, to remain seated, and wait for his return.

But Fang Linyuan didn’t move.

His eyes showed a mix of anxiety and hesitation, but in the end, they settled into a resolute determination.

"Are you going to perform a sword dance? What piece will you dance to?" he asked Zhao Chu.

"I can play the xindi (NT: traditional horizontal flute). I’ll go on stage with you and accompany you."

*

Fang Linyuan actually only knew how to play a few tunes.

Life at the border was long and tedious, and occasionally, out of boredom, they would learn some skills from the veterans.

The xindi, known as the horizontal flute in the capital, was too melancholic and cumbersome for the opulent and refined tastes of the capital, making it unfashionable.

But it was just right for the windswept borderlands.

The few tunes he knew were also too desolate. Songs like "Sai Shang Ge" (Song of the Frontier) and "Po Zhen Qu" (Song of Breaking the Formation) felt out of place in the luxurious and extravagant palace.

But Zhao Chu was performing a sword dance!

Fang Linyuan specially borrowed a xindi from behind the hall and gave a few instructions to the musicians behind the curtains.

By the time he returned, Zhao Chu had already stepped onto the jade platform, her robes flowing, her hair like clouds. The black bird with spread wings and the delicate peonies in her hair shimmered under the light of a thousand candles, exuding an unapproachable grace.

Fang Linyuan leaped onto the jade platform, stopping at the edge, and raised the flute to his lips.

He looked at Zhao Chu, and as their eyes met, he gave a slight nod. The solemn notes of the flute echoed through the grand hall.

In the next moment, the cold light of the sword filled the hall with a radiant glow.

Zhao Chu turned, his movements as graceful as an eagle’s feather sweeping across the sky. The sword in his hand spun with a whistling sound, and in an instant, the cold light flashed like pear blossoms blooming on gnarled branches in the frontier.

Immediately, the seven-stringed zither behind the curtains followed the flute’s melody, playing a fierce and rhythmic beat.

Beneath his flowing diyi robe (NT: traditional ceremonial luxurious robe), his embroidered shoes stepped lightly on the jade platform, the gauzy hem of his skirt moving like clouds at sunset.

But beneath the gorgeous silk, every step carried a lethal intent.

Rather than saying Zhao Chu was performing a sword dance, it was more accurate to say he was executing a sword technique filled with hidden killing intent. The elegant sleeves and flowing skirt concealed the beauty and ferocity of hisswordplay. Every thrust and parry seemed aimed at an opponent’s throat.

As he turned, the jade beads in his hair tinkled, his movements light and supple, his wide sleeves fluttering like clouds, resembling a celestial maiden scattering dew. But in the next moment, with another turn, his cold peach-blossom eyes looked as if they were staring at a lifeless object. He was like a great demon adorned in brocade, seizing a divine sword from the heavens, causing rivers and seas to churn and life to wither.

Part goddess, part demon, the cold light filled the hall.

The xindi’s melody grew more intense, and the zither’s rhythm became more urgent.

His steps quickened, the hem of his skirt swirling like a sea of carnivorous flowers. His sword moves were elegant yet fierce, like a malevolent god stirring up war or a dragon summoned by the flute’s melody to stir the waters.

And the one who lured and controlled it stood holding the flute, his red robe blazing like fire, only the hem of his garment lifted by the sword’s wind.

Finally, with a sharp clang, the flute fell silent, and the zither’s music ceased abruptly.

In the score, this was the moment when the general raised his sword to break the formation, the clouds parting to reveal the moon, victory within grasp.

And on the jade platform, Zhao Chu, in that moment, with his sleeves billowing, flashed the cold light of his sword, and the blade suddenly flew from his hand.

"Clang!!"

The entire hall fell into dead silence.

The unsharpened sword had embedded itself into the table in front of the emperor’s throne.

It was only two feet away from Emperor Hongyou, sinking three inches into the wood, the cold light trembling slightly.

*

The emperor on the high platform was so startled that his shoulders hunched, his eyes narrowing as he jerked backward.

He collapsed onto his throne, the beads on his crown swaying chaotically, producing a clattering sound.

The dignified emperor had revealed his disgrace before his ministers, while the culprit calmly withdrew his hand and stood firmly on the jade platform.

Despite having performed an entire sword dance in full gear, he showed no sign of disarray or embarrassment. Only the overly blooming peony in his hair had shed a few petals onto his skirt and the white jade platform.

He looked up at the shaken emperor and the empress, who was hastily helping him up, then bowed respectfully with a calm and composed expression.

"Father, please forgive me. The sword was too heavy."

"I have disturbed you, Father. It seems my skills are inadequate," he said.

"I admit defeat."

Only then did the ministers in the hall snap out of their daze, rising to their feet and kneeling in unison.

"Your Majesty, please calm your anger!"

Fang Linyuan was also terrified.

He wasn’t particularly skilled at playing the flute and had only stepped onto the stage to support Zhao Chu.

But Zhao Chu’s sword dance was so mesmerizing that Fang Linyuan had been completely captivated. By the end, he wasn’t sure if his flute was guiding Zhao Chu or if Zhao Chu was leading him into a trance. They became indistinguishable, like intertwined lightning in the clouds.

It wasn’t until the sword clanged into the wood that Fang Linyuan suddenly snapped back to reality.

Zhao Chu had lost his grip!

But he didn’t believe he could have missed so precisely, landing the sword right in front of the emperor at the final note.

He saw Emperor Hongyou’s expression darken visibly.

Shock, anger, and a deep-seated hatred and fear that Fang Linyuan couldn’t quite understand.

Fang Linyuan quickly lowered his head, not daring to look further.

From the high platform came the empress’s soft words of comfort and Saihan’s clueless, playful voice.

"Since she admitted defeat, I’ll let her off the hook," Saihan said. "Truly a golden canary (NT: metaphor for someone pampered and inexperienced) raised in the capital. How can she not even hold a sword steady? What a waste of such a fine sword dance."

The atmosphere on the high platform lightened slightly.

"Enough," Emperor Hongyou said after a moment, his voice still trembling with lingering fear. "Ministers, please rise. Huining’s skills are lacking, and I apologize for the embarrassment."

But no one dared to laugh.

Aside from the moment the sword slipped, who could say that Zhao Chu’s sword dance wasn’t exquisite? His beauty was cold and striking, and his swordplay was sharp and precise. For a moment, it was as if the sword had a soul of its own. Who would dare say it wasn’t magnificent?

The ministers in the hall rose to their feet, offering praises to the emperor’s magnanimity.

Emperor Hongyou chuckled faintly, waved his hand, and added, "Huining must be tired. Fang Qing, why don’t you take her to change and rest?"

Emperor Hongyou had suddenly become so considerate.

Fang Linyuan immediately bowed in acknowledgment. As he turned to leave the high platform, he glanced up at Emperor Hongyou.

The emperor was leaning back on his dragon throne, the empress whispering softly beside him.

He pressed his fingers to his temples, his expression weary and sombre, as if recalling some unpleasant memory.

*

Zhao Chu didn’t really need to rest.

After leaving Hanchun Hall, his skirt billowed in the wind, and he wasn’t even slightly out of breath, as if he had merely taken a stroll on the high platform.

But with the current atmosphere in Hanchun Hall, staying there would only invite more trouble.

Fang Linyuan simply left the hall with Zhao Chu and headed straight to his palace.

Zhao Chu’s palace was indeed remote.

It was located at one end of a long street, with the Cold Palace at the other end. In between was a path leading to Yongxiang, where palace servants were punished with hard labor. It was already summer, and while the rest of the palace was lush with greenery and bustling with people, this street was hot and desolate, with occasional untended plants withering by the roadside.

The deep night made it seem even more eerie and frightening.

Even though Fang Linyuan had entered the palace many times, this was the first time he had seen such a scene.

He was momentarily curious, but with the eunuch sent by Emperor Hongyou beside him, he remained silent.

It wasn’t until they followed the guiding eunuch to Zhao Chu’s palace that Fang Linyuan finally spoke.

He looked around curiously.

The palace wasn’t particularly large, and its surroundings were quiet and secluded. However, the courtyard inside was meticulously maintained.

Now, only a few maids and eunuchs remained there. When they saw Zhao Chu return, they hurried forward to greet him.

Zhao Chu didn’t keep them long. After lighting the lamps and serving tea and snacks, he dismissed them all.

"The consort and I will rest here for a while. There’s no need to stay and serve," Zhao Chu said.

Upon hearing this, the servants withdrew.

The palace doors closed, leaving only the two of them inside.

"Why is your palace so cold even in the middle of summer?"

As soon as Fang Linyuan sat down, he felt the bone-chilling cold in the hall and found it somewhat uncomfortable.

"It’s always cold and damp because it’s in the shade," Zhao Chu said, standing up.

He walked to the rosewood cabinet by the bed, opened it, and seemed to be searching for something.

"I thought you liked growing flowers," Fang Linyuan said casually, looking around. "I heard outside the palace that you love crabapple flowers."

Zhao Chu paused slightly, then replied, "I don’t like them. Keeping the courtyard empty makes it easier to practice martial arts."

The reason people in the palace knew he liked crabapple flowers was simply because he had brought a pot of them from the Cold Palace and tended to it daily.

But he hadn’t planted that flower out of affection. It was evidence related to his mother’s death, and he needed to keep it safe.

Fang Linyuan nodded and then remembered something. "Speaking of which, does His Majesty know about your martial arts skills? I noticed he didn’t look too pleased earlier. Did he realize you can use a sword?"

Zhao Chu chuckled.

"It was just a dance with some flashy moves. Nothing substantial," he said. "It just reminded him of someone he’d rather forget."

"Someone he’d rather forget…" Fang Linyuan hesitated. "Is it the late empress?"

Zhao Chu seemed surprised and glanced at Fang Linyuan, not expecting him to guess correctly.

Fang Linyuan smiled sheepishly. "It wasn’t hard to guess. I don’t know many people from the palace’s past."

Zhao Chu nodded and said calmly, "Yes, my mother knew how to wield a sword."

She didn’t like dancing. From a young age, she had trained with Dou Huairen’s martial arts master and mastered an extraordinary sword technique.

That was why, when she was kidnapped by bandits in place of Emperor Hongyou years ago, she managed to hold out for three days and escape unscathed.

But for a woman in the palace, such skills seemed utterly useless.

During the palace’s annual festivals, concubines would perform for the emperor, but his mother always sat on the high platform, never participating.

When Zhao Chu was four, the palace concubines pressured her to perform. She, too, danced with a sword in public, shocking everyone present. Emperor Hongyou’s face immediately darkened.

"A wife should be gentle and obedient. What kind of example is it to wield swords and spears?" Emperor Hongyou had said at the time.

Thus, today’s sword dance was a provocation only Zhao Chu and Emperor Hongyou understood.

A mocking smile played on Zhao Chu’s lips, but behind her, Fang Linyuan sighed. "She was so impressive! The late empress could do anything!"

Zhao Chu paused and turned to look at Fang Linyuan.

He was utterly sincere, his eyes bright with undisguised admiration and longing.

Zhao Chu watched him quietly, and after a moment, a soft smile appeared on her lips.

"Yes," she said. "She was always remarkable."

This was the first time he had privately spoken about his mother with someone—calmly, peacefully, without any conflict or slander, simply mentioning her naturally.

For a moment, Zhao Chu’s eyes felt a little warm.

He quickly turned away, took an outer robe from the rosewood cabinet, and handed it to Fang Linyuan.

"Put this on first," she said. "If you’re still cold, we can return to Hanchun Hall later."

"No, no," Fang Linyuan waved his hands repeatedly at the thought of going back to the banquet. "If we go back, we’ll have to toast and socialize. I’d rather stay here and enjoy the peace."

As he spoke, he reached out to take the robe. Just as he was about to put it on, he noticed a few pieces of clothing in the open rosewood cabinet.

At the bottom was a light blue robe embroidered with auspicious clouds and peonies. Folded neatly, it looked too small for an adult.

It seemed somewhat familiar.

Fang Linyuan couldn’t help but glance at it a few more times.

"What are you looking at?" Zhao Chu asked.

Fang Linyuan pointed and asked, "This pattern… I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere before."

Zhao Chu turned his head.

At the bottom of the cabinet was the robe he had worn on the day he first met Fang Linyuan, by the lakeside plum grove.

 

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The author has something to say:

Fang Linyuan: Oh! The outfit from our first meeting!

 

Translator : DarNan