Don't destroy what you have, and don't regret what you lose. ----Notes
The Western Jing Dynasty, the eighth year of Emperor Cheng's reign.
The snow was falling heavily in the capital, covering the yellow tiles and making the imperial grandeur seem cold and somber.
The red palace walls, colonnades, and courtyards, adorned with snowflakes, have outlines that are both hazy and clear, making the style even more elegant and profound.
The long alleyways, deep passageways, and imposing stone palaces, all set against the backdrop of snow, appear solemn and tranquil, forming a striking unity with the snow's frenzy.
The cold wind howled, making the dilapidated wooden windows of the cold palace creak and groan, a stark contrast to the luxurious and solemn atmosphere outside.
Although it was daytime, the cold palace was still dimly lit. A thin woman, wrapped in a tattered, moldy, and cold sheet, huddled in the corner of the room.
Her exposed face was emaciated, with deeply sunken cheeks, a pale complexion, purple lips, and her whole body trembling.
Her hair was disheveled, and although her once bright and clear eyes had lost their radiance, they were still captivating. She stared intently at the broken wooden door that was barely closed, which seemed to be about to collapse in the wind.
A glimmer of hope lingered in her eyes. Qinghe had been gone for so long, why hadn't she returned? Could something have happened to her? Ranla Azi was a little worried. She stretched out a thin little hand to hold onto the cold wall and slowly got up and moved towards the door.
She struggled to open the door, and a gust of biting wind, mixed with blizzard snow, rushed in, nearly knocking her to the ground. Startled, she quickly grabbed the wall for support, panting heavily.
She paused for a moment, then turned to look at the entrance of the Cold Palace, still hoping that Qinghe would return and bring him to see her, but she never got to see him.
The blizzard raged in the courtyard, but the gates of the Cold Palace remained unopened.
Ranla Azi was too weak to move and could only sit with her eyes closed against the corner of the wall by the door. She was cold and hungry and didn't know what to do.
She gently stroked her bulging belly. The baby was about to be born, but he still wouldn't come to see her.
Sadness filled her eyes, followed by pain, then regret and hatred, and yet not a single tear fell from them.
She stared blankly at her belly, slowly closed her eyes, and leaned there quietly, letting the wind, frost, rain, and snow beat against her.
Time passed slowly, but no one returned.
Ranla Azi was already heartbroken. She opened her eyes, struggled to get up by supporting herself against the wall, and stared deeply at the doorway, her eyes filled with hatred.
She closed the shaky door and, supporting herself on the wall with one hand for her waist and the other for support, slowly moved onto what could hardly be called a bed.
Lying on the cold wooden board with only a tattered, moldy thin blanket, she was already so cold that her hands and feet were stiff and she was having difficulty breathing.
She had just struggled to lie down on the bed when she felt a sharp pain in her lower body. The wetness below told her that she was about to give birth, but she had no strength.
Although she was skilled in medicine, she had never delivered a baby before and had no idea how to give birth, let alone the fact that she was already on the verge of death.
So be it, she resigned herself to her fate. She had been blind and heartless all her life, misjudging people and giving her heart to the wrong person.
The child will starve or freeze to death anyway, so it's better to go with her, so she won't have any worries here.
Waves of excruciating pain surged from her lower body. Ranla Azi lay there quietly, breathing rapidly, her hands gripping the bed frame so tightly that they drew blood.
She felt increasingly difficult to breathe, her vision blurred, and more and more fluid was flowing from beneath her, as she felt her life slowly slipping away.
Blood flowed down the bed like water, dripping onto the floor and slowly congealing. More and more blood flowed, turning the area a vibrant crimson...
Ranla Azi felt her body getting lighter and lighter. She saw her carefree and wonderful days in the tribe, with her loving father and mother, the tribespeople all liking her, and her brother Gemeng taking her to play everywhere every day... She was very happy.
Later, she saved Di Jingcheng while traveling. They fell in love and he promised to make her happy and protect her forever.
They had a happy and fulfilling time together, but what happened to him? He didn't want her anymore, and he didn't want the child either?
She regretted it. Her parents had told her that emperors were heartless, but she hadn't believed them. Now, she did. Father, Mother, Grandpa, Brother Yimeng, Azi misses you all so much…
Even as she fell, Ranla Azi did not shed a single tear, because her father had said that one should not shed tears for someone who is not worthy.
The more tears she shed for him in the past, the more she hates him now.
If she could be reborn, she would stay in the tribe that loved her for the rest of her life, and never be blind in her eyes or heart again.
Ranla Azi's life was forever frozen in that cold winter when she was twenty years old. In the desolate cold palace, with no one to accompany her, she died tragically, taking two lives with her unborn child.
In the Western Palace, Ranla Azi, the once-powerful foreign imperial concubine, ultimately made the wrong gamble.
...
The Cold Palace was desolate under the blizzard, but inside Yanqing Hall it was warm and cozy. Emperor Jingcheng sat on the magnificent dragon throne, his luxurious black dragon robe adorned with intricate and exquisite patterns. Five-clawed golden dragons were embroidered with gold thread, their broad shoulders and narrow waists exuding boundless power. A jade belt tightly bound the wide dragon robe at his waist; his face was as handsome as jade, his expression stern, and he wore a purple-gold crown, displaying both majesty and nobility.
Inside the main hall, crystal goblets glowed in the night, and fine wine flowed freely. Ministers and foreign envoys clinked glasses and chatted merrily.
Di Jingcheng frowned slightly, as if he had something on his mind, but no one else knew.
The chief eunuch, Zheng He, bowed respectfully as he served the emperor food and wine, whispering a few words in his ear. The emperor's eyes darkened slightly, but he remained impassive and waved for Zheng He to leave.
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