Palace Night Plot
The morning light on the day before the festival was like crushed gold flecks, shining through the diamond-patterned window screens of the side hall and spreading out tiny glimmers of light on the blue brick floor.
When Yinli entered carrying the medicine bowl, the tip of her shoe brushed against a sliver of light. The rising steam from the rim of the porcelain bowl carried the fragrance of wormwood and angelica, which permeated the military defense map spread out on the table—it was drawn by He Mo by candlelight last night, with a bit of ink still clinging to the tip of his brush.
"Wait a minute, it's freshly brewed." She placed the medicine bowl beside He Mo and then took out two pieces of osmanthus sugar from her handkerchief. The sugar was coated with fine white sugar powder, which she had obtained from the imperial kitchen that morning. Her fingertips were still slightly damp with the cool sugar powder.
Just as He Mo was about to raise his arm to catch it, the wound on his left arm suddenly tugged. He subconsciously frowned, his knuckles leaving a shallow mark on the bedding.
Upon seeing this, Yin Li immediately put down the candy, reached out and supported his elbow, the warmth of her palm seeping into his sleeve like warm water flowing over cold stone.
"Let me feed you." She scooped up a spoonful of medicine, blew on it to her lips, and the warm breath brushed against her eyelashes, making them tremble.
He Mo didn't speak, but slightly raised his chin. As the medicine slid down his throat, the bitter taste spread, but he didn't frown. It wasn't until Yin Li put a piece of osmanthus candy between his lips and the sweetness spread from the tip of his tongue to his heart that he spoke softly: "I'm going to the Temple of Heaven to investigate today. You can rest in the palace. Your wound is fine."
Yin Li shook her head, her fingertips lingering on her waist for a moment before she pulled out a bronze token. The token's edges were polished to a shine, and the two characters "Hu Mo" engraved on it were inlaid with green patina. It was given to her by her mother before she died, and she had kept it close to her body for three years, still warm from her mother's touch.
“My mother said that this token can summon thirty veterans, all of whom followed my father to guard the border back then, and are now scattered in blacksmith shops and grain depots in the suburbs of Beijing.”
She placed the token in He Mo's palm, the token's coldness colliding with the warmth of his palm. "I sent word last night that they will be waiting under the old locust tree outside the Temple of Heaven on the day of the ceremony."
He Mo held the token, his fingertips tracing the lines of the characters "Hu Mo" (护墨, meaning "Protect the Ink"), and suddenly reached out to pull her into his arms. Her hair brushed against his chin, carrying a faint scent of soap. When he looked down, he could see the redness on the tips of her ears. "Once this is over," his voice was soft against the top of her head, as gentle as the morning light, "I'll take you to the plum grove outside the city. Last March when I passed by, the wind blew, and petals fell all over my shoulders."
Yin Li leaned against his chest, able to hear the rhythm of his heartbeat, steady as a drumbeat. She softly hummed in agreement, her fingertips secretly tightening their grip on his fabric—she didn't ask for any peach grove, she only hoped he could live to settle this matter.
The Temple of Heaven on the day of the ceremony was devoid of any spring warmth.
The sacrificial music was played by bronze bells and chimes, its sound heavy like a stone pressing on one's heart, circling around the blue brick floor.
The emperor stood before the altar, holding a jade tablet in his hand. The coldness of the tablet seeped into his bones through his fingertips.
He Mo stood beside the Crown Prince, his hand gripping the sword hilt sweating. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the Imperial Guard Commander—the commander was holding the sword at his waist, but his eyes were always downcast, as if he was lost in thought. Yet the treads on the soles of his boots were pressed firmly against the ground, revealing a hint of tension.
Suddenly, the fence on the west side cracked with a loud crash.
A dozen or so men dressed in imperial guard armor rushed in, the clanging of their armor piercing the sacrificial music.
The leader, a man with an iron face, raised a long sword, its blade reflecting the morning light, and slashed straight at the crown prince: "Your Highness, prepare to die!" He Mo was prepared, and his long sword was drawn with a "whoosh," the wind of the sword carrying a chill, just barely blocking in front of the crown prince.
With a crisp clang, the knife and sword clashed, the impact making his hand go numb. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the commander of the Imperial Guards was still standing there, his hand on his sword, not moving an inch—the Empress Dowager had clearly said the day before that the Imperial Guards would be under his command on the day of the ceremony.
"He Mo, look at his waist!" Yin Li's voice suddenly came, trembling slightly. He Mo looked up sharply and saw a black jade pendant hanging from the iron-faced man's waist. The cloud pattern on the pendant was exactly the same as the one the Empress Dowager often wore on her wrist!
Just then, the curtain behind the viewing area suddenly moved.
A dark figure leaped out, a short blade gleaming coldly in his hand. The voice beneath the mask was no longer the previous hoarse one, but sharp as shattered porcelain: "He Mo, do you really think the Empress Dowager would believe the son of a traitor?"
He Mo's heart sank, and he nearly dropped his sword. He turned to look at the audience seats. The Empress Dowager sat there, her prayer beads already resting on her fingertips. Her once gentle eyes were now filled with coldness, like a frozen lake: "Imperial Guards, listen to my command! He Mo has colluded with the Shadow Pavilion rebels. Seize him as well!"
The Imperial Guards stepped forward, halberds in hand, but hesitated. Suddenly, Yin Li stepped forward, raising the bronze token high above her head, her voice clear as an arrow piercing the clouds: "Where are the former subordinates of Hu Mo!"
Suddenly, the sound of orderly footsteps came from outside the Temple of Heaven.
Dozens of veterans dressed in plain clothes rushed in. Some carried blacksmith's hammers on their backs, while others had short knives from grain depots at their waists. Each of them had sharp eyes and instantly stood between He Mo and the Imperial Guards.
The veteran at the head of the group had mostly white hair, but when he knelt on one knee, his voice was very steady: "Your subordinates respectfully welcome the young prince!"
The Empress Dowager's face turned deathly pale instantly, her fingers gripping the prayer beads tightly, the patterns on the beads digging into her palm. Minister Jin suddenly stepped out from among the officials, holding a roll of yellow hemp paper in his hand, the roll still covered in dirt—it had been seized by the secret guards from an abandoned house in the west of the city.
"Empress Dowager!" His voice trembled, but every word was clear. "This is a secret letter from you colluding with the Shadow Pavilion, and the warrant that framed Prince Mo back then!"
The secret letter was presented to the Emperor. After reading it, the Emperor was so angry that his hands trembled: "Empress Dowager, how dare you deceive the Emperor!"
Seeing that the situation was hopeless, the man in the Shadow Pavilion suddenly turned around and raised his knife to stab the Empress Dowager. He Mo reacted quickly, flicking his longsword, and the tip of the sword pierced through the Empress Dowager's chest. Blood splattered on the blue bricks, a glaring red.
The shadowy figure tried to escape in the chaos, but Yin Li pulled out a copper coin from her waist, flicked it with her fingertip, and three coins flew in a line, striking the figure precisely on the knee. The shadowy figure fell to his knees with a thud, his mask crashing to the ground, revealing a familiar face—it was Granny Zhang. A trace of makeup still clung to the wrinkles around her eyes, but a sinister smile curled at the corner of her mouth: "Even if I die, I'll drag you all down with me!"
As soon as she finished speaking, Yin Li suddenly saw a flash of silver light in Zhang Mama's sleeve—it was a poisoned arrow! Just as she was about to shout, He Mo had already pounced over, his back to the arrow.
With a "thud," the arrowhead pierced through his clothes and embedded itself in his flesh.
"He Mo!" Yin Li caught his collapsing body, tears instantly welling up and splashing onto his clothes, wetting a small patch. He Mo's breathing was a little rapid, but he smiled and raised his hand, wiping away her tears with his fingertips: "Don't cry... the plum blossoms... we haven't seen them yet..."
"I'll take you to see it right now!" Yin Li trembled as she pulled a red porcelain bottle from her bosom. It contained the last antidote her mother had left behind. She poured it out and fed it to him, her fingertips burning hot. "You can't be hurt. We still need to see the peach blossoms..."
By the time the imperial physician arrived, the poison had already been brought under control.
Half a month later, a peach tree was planted outside the window of the side hall. It was transplanted from outside the city by the veterans.
He Mo sat by the window, watching Yin Li bring in peach blossom cakes, each cake adorned with a fresh peach petal. He reached out and pulled her to his side, and a gust of wind blew in from outside, causing a peach petal to fall into her hair.
“Look,” he pointed out the window, his voice soft, “we can see peach blossoms without going outside the city.” Yin Li was about to speak when he suddenly cupped the back of her head, his lips falling to hers with the faint fragrance of peach blossoms. His kiss was light, like a feather brushing against her skin, yet it carried a resolute warmth.
"Yinli," he whispered, his lips close to hers, "I will accompany you to see the peach blossoms every year from now on."
The wind blew again, and peach petals fell on their clasped hands, drifting and falling slowly, as if all the danger had been kneaded into this tenderness, never to dissipate.
"The Empress Dowager is looking for you, young master. Please go."
He Mo had no choice but to separate from Yin Li and take her to meet the Empress Dowager.
I know what you want to ask.
The Empress Dowager didn't turn around, her fingertips twirling a string of Bodhi prayer beads, each bead polished to a shine. "About your mother, about the old stories of the Mo Prince's Mansion."
He Mo stopped in his tracks, his fingers unconsciously clenching. Ever since he could remember, his mother's portrait had hung in his study. The woman in the painting wore a moon-white dress, her eyes gentle. His father said she had gone to a very far place, but never said where. Only today, when the Empress Dowager suddenly summoned him to the Buddhist hall, did he dare to harbor even a sliver of hope.
"Your mother's name is Su Wan," the Empress Dowager finally turned around, the candlelight reflecting in her eyes, revealing a complex softness. "Back in Jiangnan, she was the emperor's most cherished person—what you call his white moonlight."
Yin Li stood beside He Mo and quietly grasped his sleeve. She saw He Mo's Adam's apple move, and his eyes were filled with unconcealed shock, like a stone suddenly thrown into a calm lake.
"Back then, your father, Mo Yi, was the commander of the Imperial Guards. He and Su Wan were childhood sweethearts and had already been betrothed." The Empress Dowager's voice lowered, as if she were talking about a long-forgotten past. "But when the Emperor saw Su Wan during his southern tour, he remembered her at first glance."
Upon returning to court, they threatened the safety of the Mo family—if Su Wan did not enter the palace, the merits accumulated by the Mo family over three generations would be rendered meaningless.
The candlelight in the Buddhist hall flickered again, making He Mo's shadow tremble. He suddenly remembered his father's dying words, holding his hand and saying, "I'm sorry for your mother." He didn't understand then, but now he understood how much helplessness and guilt were hidden in those five words.
"After Su Wan entered the palace, she was granted the title of Consort Xian," the Empress Dowager said, her fingertip resting on a Buddhist bead, her tone turning colder. "The Emperor treated her extremely well, so well that it drew attention from the entire palace and made me wary. But in her heart, there was only your father."
"Then why... did she do that later?" He Mo's voice was a little hoarse.
The Empress Dowager's eyes darkened, and she twirled the prayer beads on her fingertips. "She's alive, but that's not true; she was poisoned." She looked up at He Mo. "Back then, although I was wary of her, I never intended to kill her. What truly couldn't tolerate her was the power behind Yingge—they feared that the Emperor would favor the Mo Prince's Mansion because of Consort Xian, so they used a palace banquet to slowly poison her soup. What I saw last time was just my spy testing you."
Yin Li suddenly remembered that her mother had mentioned in her notes that "the death of Consort Xian was not fate." At that time, she did not understand, but now she was shocked to realize that the death of He Mo's mother was also a conspiracy.
"After your father learned the truth, he wanted to investigate the matter, but he did not expect that Yingge would turn around and frame him for treason, and even drag me into giving false testimony."
The Empress Dowager's voice carried a hint of self-mockery, "At that time, I had just secured my position as Empress and was afraid that the Emperor would take his anger out on me because of the death of Consort Xian, so I agreed—now that I think about it, I was just being used as a pawn by the Shadow Pavilion."
He Mo's fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He finally understood that the wrongful conviction in the Mo Prince's mansion and his mother's death were never isolated incidents, but rather part of a conspiracy involving imperial power and scheming.
"Then why are you telling me this now?" He Mo raised his eyes, his eyes filled with suppressed anger. "Are you afraid that I will expose your collusion with the Shadow Pavilion at the festival?"
The Empress Dowager looked at him and suddenly smiled, a smile tinged with weariness: "I am old and I am afraid of having nightmares at night. Before Su Wan passed away, she begged me that if one day the Mo Prince's Mansion could be exonerated, she would let you know the truth—she did not want you to live in confusion for the rest of your life."
She took out a brocade box from under the Buddhist shrine and handed it to He Mo: "Inside are Su Wan's belongings, a jade hairpin that she often wore, and a letter she wrote to you before she died."
He Mo took the brocade box, his fingertips touching its surface, which was surprisingly warm. He opened it, and inside lay a jade hairpin, its tip carved with a small plum blossom, and a yellowed letter with gentle handwriting—his mother's: "My son He Mo, though I cannot be there to watch you grow up, I know you will surely become a man of great stature. If one day the Mo Prince's mansion is unjustly accused, remember, do not let hatred blind you. Protect yourself, and protect those around you..."
Suddenly, tears fell onto the letter, blurring the ink. He Mo clutched the letter, his throat tight with something, unable to speak.
Yin Li stood beside him, gently patting his back, her eyes reddening.
"On the day of the ceremony, the Shadow Pavilion's target was the Crown Prince, and also you," the Empress Dowager's tone turned somber again. "I will help you, not to atone for my sins, but to fulfill Su Wan's last wish and to protect this empire—if the Shadow Pavilion truly succeeds, the world will surely descend into chaos."
He Mo raised his head, wiped away his tears, and a hint of determination appeared in his eyes. He clutched his mother's jade hairpin, then looked at Yin Li beside him, and said softly, "I know what to do."
The candlelight in the Buddhist hall gradually dimmed, but the sandalwood incense remained strong. Yet, He Mo's heart was much brighter than when he arrived—he not only wanted to clear the name of the Mo Prince's Mansion, but also to fulfill his mother's last wish, protect those around him, and safeguard the world.
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