Chapter 1 The Cold Palace is really meddling in other people's business today
In the winter of the second year of Jingzhao, the imperial study.
The deep snow bent the plum branches, laying a silver blanket on the green bricks.
The approved memorials were neatly stacked on the table, the heater was burning hot, and Shen Zhiwei curled up sleepily on the couch, listening to the crunching sound of brocade boots stepping on the snow coming from outside the hall.
Xiao Wangqing stepped into the house with the lingering smell of blood and alcohol, handed the blood-stained cloak to the eunuch beside him, stood in the distance to dispel the cold air, and then knelt on the soft couch.
The king's stature is already tall, and when he bends down he looks like a heavy mountain.
His tone was as calm as ever, but his voice was a little muffled, like a defeated fighting cock. In short, he didn't look like he was in a good mood.
His eyebrows were sharp, and he managed to hide his anger in front of Shen Zhiwei unskillfully, but he still looked cold and hard.
"The Ministry of Rites today requested the enthronement of a queen."
Shen Zhiwei yawned and raised his eyelids, reaching for the hangover soup warmed by the stove.
"Your Majesty, it's time to take some tranquilizing powder." The implication was that you should stop making trouble and take the medicine.
However, as soon as her fingertips touched the rim of the bowl, the emperor pressed her down on the desk covered with memorials.
The spilled cinnabar stained her inner garment. Xiao Wangqing's fingertips were pressed against the hollow of her waist where an arrow had grazed her that year, causing Shen Zhiwei to tremble.
"When Shen Bandu was teaching the Crown Prince the Imperial Code, did he also teach him the ways of being a king on the dragon couch?"
Shen Zhiwei narrowed his eyes and his gaze lingered on his face for a long time, so long that the king felt uneasy in his heart. Only then did he truly sober up.
The chief eunuch, who had already left tactfully, stood outside the door, watching His Majesty's behavior, thinking that he was destined to be beaten.
*
The snow of the thirteenth year of Yong'an smells like rust in my memory.
On the twenty-third day of the twelfth lunar month, the moonlight is colder than snow.
Shen Zhiwei walked slowly, holding the silver charcoal awarded by His Royal Highness the Crown Prince. The old wound left in the palace was cracked by his slightly faster pace, and every step he took was rubbed against ice chips.
Walking around the corner of the cold palace covered with icicles, she was thinking of going back to the East Palace's small kitchen to roast sweet potatoes when she suddenly stepped on a frozen creature.
The young man by the well curb was curled up in a fetal sac, he looked no more than ten years old, his eyelashes were frosted, and in his red palm was clenched half a piece of blackened malt candy.
The moonlight spread over the boy's purple lips, like a layer of silver powder applied to a dying person.
The cold, fishy smell of the rotting wound penetrated Shen Zhiwei's nostrils. Even though similar scenes were not uncommon, it was enough to make her frown.
The child's identity was easy to identify. He was the Third Prince, the least favored of the Emperor. His name wasn't even in the Imperial Book of Records until he was twelve, and he was often bullied by his brothers. Because she often accompanied the Crown Prince, Shen Bandu had also seen him.
It was the coldest time of the year and I was shivering even in my fur coat, let alone him who was only covered with a layer of cotton.
Shen Zhiwei didn't know his name. She had heard most of the palace servants call him "the one from the cold palace" before, and she had never heard any good name from other princes.
She never cared about it. After all, he was just a half-useless prince and could not amount to anything.
But caring or not caring is one thing, and whether or not to care is another.
"Wake up...Third Prince."
If he were to die now, even if His Majesty only pretended to be kind, he would definitely blame him.
Shen Zhiwei rubbed his palms together vigorously, exhaled a breath of frosty hot air, leaned over and took off his sable fur coat to wrap the boy on the ground.
This should have been a wonderful story that could have been embellished by a storyteller.
Unfortunately, Shen Bandu was wearing a moon-white robe today, and his fox fur was also white, almost blending into the snow around him, so that the confused Xiao Wangqing could not see what was approaching him.
Xiao Wangqing only felt danger.
Since you can't run away, just fight with all your might.
Shen Zhiwei's movements were already careful enough, but he didn't expect that when the fox fur fell, the little beast in his arms suddenly jumped up and bit his wrist, blood splattered everywhere, and he almost tore off a piece of flesh.
The skinny boy's eyes were not fully open, but his blue-frozen fingertips dug deeply into her shoulder blades, as if he wanted to nail all the pain he had endured over the years into her flesh and blood.
"...Let go." The body's instinctive reaction was faster than thinking. The veins on Shen Zhiwei's forehead bulged. In the severe pain, before he could think of the words to curse, his foot had already kicked out.
Seeing the young prince's lower back hit the well curb like a kite and fainted from the pain, Shen Zhiwei still felt that he was really unlucky. His rare outburst of kindness was towards a wolf cub.
Shen Zhiwei grimaced in pain, and reluctantly wrapped a handkerchief around his wrist before slowly moving forward to pick up the young man. As expected, his flesh felt terribly burned.
The bloodstained fox fur covered him like a shroud.
After a brief pause, Shen Zhiwei smacked his lips. The third prince of the current dynasty did not have the chair of the Eastern Palace.
If I send him to the Imperial Hospital now and the other princes find out, I will be seriously injured even if His Royal Highness the Crown Prince protects me.
Just leave it to fate. It's better to be alive, and forget it if you die.
She carried Xiao Wangqing with great effort and ran to the side hall of the cold palace as fast as she could. Her wrist, which had been bitten, was bleeding all the way.
At this distance, she could just see the ice crystals on the Third Prince's eyelashes. Shen Zhiwei thought of the glass beads Xiao Lingjun gave her in the warm room of the East Palace, which were also so transparent and fragile.
But the glass beads are still brighter.
The side hall of the cold palace is colder than a snow cave, with spider webs hanging with icicles between the beams.
Throwing the man onto the hard couch, Shen Zhiwei lifted the mink coat and gasped. Even in the Imperial Hospital, he rarely saw injuries like this. Festering wounds covered the inside of the thigh, with faint white bone fragments visible through the rotting flesh. An ordinary person would have been driven mad by the pain.
It was hard to tell whether she felt disgust or pity. She smacked her lips, took the silver scissors, and raised her head, just in time to meet those cold eyes.
The wolf cub just now may have woken up in the middle of the night, or may have been awake all the time.
He obviously had a high fever and couldn't even lift his fingers, yet he could still give this look to his savior.
"The dog of the Eastern Palace..." Xiao Wangqing's eyes flushed, and his voice was hoarse like gravel rubbing against each other. There was no sarcasm in his tone, but what he said was a curse.
Because the wording was so harsh, it was naturally seen as hypocritical and ungrateful in the eyes of the savior.
The sixteen-year-old prince was more ferocious than a wild cat, but he could only be compared to a wild cat. Moreover, Xiao Wangqing was seriously injured and had no momentum at all.
He deserved to die in the snow. Look, he got scolded.
Shen Zhiwei was amused, but she felt it was even more funny, simply because the little prince was powerless to kill her even if he wanted to.
The frostbite cream Xiao Lingjun gave her as a reward was enough. She had been staying in the Eastern Palace. Although she couldn't live a life of luxury, she rarely had the chance to get frostbite.
At this time, Shen Bandu, who was still young and bad-tempered, smiled and picked out a few pieces of silver charcoal, put them into the charcoal basin to heat them up, and poured the slightly scalding snow water on the boy's wound.
"If your Highness the Third Prince still wants to live, please be patient and don't alarm others."
Shen Zhiwei took out a handkerchief and stuffed it between his teeth. He suddenly exerted force with the fingers holding the silver scissors, and the rotten flesh mixed with pus and blood was cut off alive.
Xiao Wangqing was trembling with convulsions, and the whimpering from his throat was like that of a young animal. Shen Zhiwei could catch a glimpse of the old scar on his waist by just lowering her head.
At the New Year's Eve banquet last year, the eldest prince broke three of his ribs in public, just because he took one more look at the white jade cakes in the imperial kitchen.
Well, it was just a chance encounter after all. Why should we be so harsh on a child with such a miserable life?
The sable fur had long been stained with pus and blood, and it would be useless to take it back.
The silver wire and carbon are limited. If His Highness knew that she had saved his brother and would punish her, he would not mind giving her the extra charity.
…
…………
Watching the young man on the couch sweating profusely, repeatedly waking up and passing out from the pain, Shen Zhiwei felt a rare pity of guilty conscience, almost taking off the bracelet given by his own prince, but when he came to his senses, he regretted it.
I heard from others that his biological mother was a Miao witch. Could it be that she had cast a spell on him in the snow?
I've been a bit too nosy today.
I kept thinking this in my mind, but I didn't take the things back.
The candlelight cast the shadow of the young man on the couch on the mottled palace wall, like a torn painting.
After removing the rotting flesh and replacing the medicine, daylight was about to break, and Shen Zhiwei threw down her scissors and prepared to change the water. Suddenly, the unconscious boy convulsed, his withered wrist raised, as if passing through some barrier, and grasped the red string of the jade pendant at her waist.
The jade was given to the prince as a birthday gift last year. The mutton-fat jade with the word "Wei" engraved on it glowed warmly in the remaining moonlight.
"Mother... don't abandon me..." His hot breath sprayed on Shen Zhiwei's wrist bone. The high heat melted all the pride and indifference, revealing the broken soul inside.
...talking to me? It seems like he's really lost in the heat.
Shen Zhiwei's eyes swept over the crescent-shaped scar behind his ear. Frowning, she cut the red string of the jade pendant and carefully put the warm jade into her lapel. This is a gift from His Highness, and no one else can take it away.
After thinking about it, I still remember saying to the person on the bed: "I am not your mother."
The snow outside the window was falling faster than before. Shen Zhiwei's temper was not the best, but people always have sympathy for beautiful people, not to mention a teenager.
She hesitated for a long time before unbuttoning the clothes of the little prince who was humming with fever, and put her frozen palms to her heart, letting the boy's thin ribs rub against her palms and cause pain.
Xiao Lingjun taught him that people who are dying need to protect their heart meridians the most.
When Shen Zhiwei was seven years old, she knelt outside the medicine store holding her little sister who had a high fever, until she slowly grew stiff and cold in her arms.
"...Your mother wants you to live." She murmured to the sleeping man, not knowing to whom she was talking.
When the broken body was no longer burning hot, Shen Zhiwei took a few steps back, squatted in front of the charcoal basin in a single layer of clothes to warm his hands, and heard a rustling sound behind him.
The young prince leaned against the head of the bed and stared at her. His eyes were still cold, but his sharp gaze made her flinch for a moment when it touched her frozen red knees.
"Did the Eastern Palace send you to give me alms?" Xiao Wangqing's voice was still hoarse, his fingers digging into the quilt tightly. "Tell Xiao Lingjun that I won't eat the rice brought by his sparrows."
It turns out that his name is Xiao Wangqing, and the name itself sounds a bit pitiful.
Starving to death? Just go hungry for a few meals.
Shen Zhiwei looked at the blood-stained cotton wool on the ground, then lifted his eyelids and looked at the look in Xiao Wangqing's eyes and laughed out loud. He threw the silver charcoal in his hand into the brazier: "Pie? Wrong, this charcoal was rewarded to me by His Highness, and the mink fur was given to me by His Highness, but your life——"
"I wanted to save him out of selfishness."
Seeing the little prince's pupils suddenly shrink, like a wild cat whose tail was stepped on. Shen Zhiwei smelled the bitter medicine wafting from his wound, stroked the beads on his wrist and said thoughtfully, "If your Highness feels humiliated, you can kill me one day to vent your anger."
This was quite sincere. If the kindhearted Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace knew about this, he would probably punish her by making her kneel in the Buddhist temple for three days.
But the snow was too cold last night, and the boy's sobs sounded too much like his younger sister's dying cries. But she was not a saint, and could not resist the moist compassion in her heart.
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At this time, Shen Zhiwei was seventeen, Xiao Wangqing was sixteen, and Xiao Lingjun was nineteen.
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