Chapter 5: Looking at Each Other in the Second Life
However, the beaded curtain swayed slightly, and the dragon throne was now empty. Only the still-warm cup of tea on the table proved that the emperor had been there just moments before.
"Miss?" Qingxing whispered, "It's time to change your clothes..."
Fangru withdrew her gaze and returned to the room. She went straight to the wardrobe and said, "No, change into the lake blue one."
Qingxing paused, holding the moon-white ruqun (a type of traditional Chinese dress): "But what are your orders, sir..."
"Go and fetch the storybook from the carriage." Fangru's voice trembled slightly with suppressed emotions. Her fingertips lightly brushed the purple jade prayer beads on her wrist, which she hadn't had time to give to Gu Zhou in her previous life.
The lights of the Xuanji Banquet came into view again, and Fangru had been completely transformed.
The lake-blue, wide-sleeved fairy dress rippled like flowing water as she walked.
The moment she stepped into the hall, she clearly felt that the gazes directed at her were completely different from those in her previous life—more curious than jealous, more amazed than hostile.
"Oh, Miss Shen, you've certainly changed your ways today." Zhao Minglan, just like in her past life, blocked the road, her wine glass tilting precariously. "But blue doesn't suit you at all..."
Just as the wine was about to spill, Fangru suddenly stepped aside and flicked her fingers lightly from her sleeve.
Zhao Minglan slipped for some reason, spilling the entire glass of wine all over her apricot-yellow skirt, making her look like she had wet her pants.
"Miss Zhao, be careful." Fangru held her wrist, and a fragrant pill hidden between her fingers rolled into the other's sleeve. "There are fruit stains on the ground."
Zhao Minglan blushed and was about to lash out when she suddenly smelled a foul stench emanating from herself.
The noble ladies around her covered their noses and backed away, and even her personal maid couldn't help but frown.
Fangru gracefully stepped aside, a slight smile playing on her lips.
The fragrant pills were her specially made "Seven Mile Stink," which would dissolve upon contact with alcohol, enough to keep Zhao Minglan "fragrant" all night long.
"Miss Chen, you have quite the skills." Su Wanqing approached, fanning herself with a round fan, her gaze falling on Fangru's composed demeanor. "Miss Zhao is going to be quite annoyed for a while now."
Fangru smiled faintly: "Sister Su is joking. It was just Miss Zhao's own carelessness." Her gaze swept across the corridor. "Miss Lin, on the other hand, seems to have prepared a special program."
Before she could finish speaking, Lin Yueyao's boisterous laughter echoed from the corridor.
Fangru squinted, staring at the crimson dress that burned like flames. In her past life, it was this cup of "Drunken Hibiscus" that led Lin Yueyao to the royal flower viewing party, ultimately resulting in her death.
"...His Majesty loves peonies the most, so I specially added them to this wine..."
Fangru walked straight over and whispered a word to Lin Yueyao at her most triumphant moment: "Sister Lin is wrong. His Majesty detests peonies. The Southern Frontier Consort Luo, who was sent to marry a foreign ruler, died in the Peony Garden."
The room erupted in uproar.
Lin Yueyao's hand trembled, and the glass lamp almost slipped from her grasp: "What nonsense are you talking about!"
Fangru calmly pulled out a beautifully bound booklet from her sleeve, the cover of which was inscribed with the title "The Peony Pavilion" in a flamboyant style.
“If you don’t believe me, sister, take a look at this.” She casually turned to a page, her fingertip pointing to a certain paragraph. “It’s written very clearly here.”
Lin Yueyao leaned closer suspiciously, only to see the words written on the paper: "The king covered his nose when he saw peonies, saying it was an omen of the downfall of the country..."
Just as she was about to explode, Fangru closed the book and chuckled, "Oh dear, I picked up the wrong one. This is the storybook I was reading a few days ago."
She blinked in feigned surprise. "But if you think about it, aren't all the stories in the novels supposed to have originated from the palace?"
Lin Yueyao's hand froze in mid-air, the wine rippled in the cup. The noble ladies around her began to whisper among themselves, some even taking a half-step back.
Fangru tucked the storybook back into her sleeve, her tone light: "It's all just written in a book anyway, so just take it as an interesting anecdote. As for 'Drunken Hibiscus'..." She glanced meaningfully at the scarlet wine, "...you should keep it for yourself to enjoy."
Lin Yueyao's face turned deathly pale. Although her father was the Minister of the Court of Imperial Sacrifices, he had never heard of such a secret. If he had truly violated a taboo before the Emperor…
Fangru's gaze was calm as still water, yet it sent a strange shiver down Lin Yueyao's spine.
“Sister, do you know,” Fangru’s voice was as gentle as a breeze, “that Consort Luo of Southern Xinjiang loved crimson silk skirts and often wore a golden hairpin with nine phoenixes facing the sun in her hair.”
Lin Yueyao's hand trembled violently, and the golden phoenix hairpin that her fingertips touched suddenly became scalding hot.
She recalled that at last year's palace banquet, she had indeed seen a portrait of Consort Luo, and the woman's attire in the painting bore a striking resemblance to her own appearance today.
"After Consort Luo died, His Majesty ordered all her portraits to be collected," Fangru continued, her fingertips lightly tracing the rim of the glass cup. "I heard... it's because he grew to loathe her every time he saw her."
The night breeze suddenly turned cool, making Lin Yueyao's back feel cold.
She remembered that her father had indeed warned her not to mention anything about Consort Luo in front of His Majesty.
Fangru looked at Lin Yueyao's gradually paling face and sighed softly, "Sister, you look beautiful today, but..." She glanced meaningfully at the golden phoenix hairpin, "...it's too easy to remind people of things that bother them."
The noble ladies around them looked on curiously, but could not hear the two whispering.
The glass cup in Lin Yueyao's hand fell to the ground with a "crack" and shattered into several pieces.
She grabbed Fangru's wrist and pulled her into the shadows behind the pillar: "Shen Fangru, what exactly do you want to say?"
Fangru let her hold her hand and whispered, "Sister, do you know why Consort Luo was sentenced to death?" Before she could answer, she continued, "Because she always spoke ill of others in front of His Majesty, and in the end..."
"Enough!" Lin Yueyao abruptly released her grip, her chest heaving violently. She suddenly remembered the words she was about to use to mock Fangru, and a cold sweat broke out on her back.
Fangru straightened her crumpled sleeves: "If you don't believe me, you can continue." She looked up at the golden hairpin in Lin Yueyao's hair, "but I really can't bear to see you follow in Consort Luo's footsteps."
Lin Yueyao's hand unconsciously reached for the golden phoenix hairpin in her hair, her fingertips trembling slightly. She suddenly remembered her father's subtle hint that His Majesty detested gossip and intrigue in the harem...
Music began to play in the distance; the dance competition was about to begin. Fangru gave her one last look before turning to leave.
"Wait!" Lin Yueyao suddenly called out to her, her voice tinged with panic, "Why... are you telling me this?"
In her previous life, Lin Yueyao was sentenced to death by Zhou Ling for using her beauty to serve others. In this life, she doesn't want to see it again.
Although Lin Yueyao had ridiculed her before, she didn't deserve to die. Fangru said softly, "Because some mistakes, once made, can never be undone."
That's all she could do; the rest is up to Lin Yueyao to decide.
Lin Yueyao stood there, watching Fangru's departing figure, when suddenly she raised her hand, pulled out the golden phoenix hairpin, and threw it into the lotus pond.
"Miss Chen." Su Wanqing's voice came from behind, tinged with inquiry, "Regarding what you just said about Consort Luo..."
Fangru snapped out of her reverie and gave her a slight smile: "Sister Su, would you like to dance 'Flowing Clouds and Returning Snow' during the dance competition later?"
Su Wanqing's eyes widened in surprise: "That's a sword dance from a previous dynasty, long lost. How could I possibly know it?"
Fangru's fingertips trembled slightly. She remembered that in her previous life, while waiting outside the Imperial Study, she had seen Zhou Ling practicing swordsmanship alone under the moonlight through the carved window lattice.
Within that sharp swordplay, there was clearly the elegance of "flowing clouds and swirling snow," indicating that this emperor had incorporated the lost sword dance into his own martial arts.
"I'll teach you," she said softly, leading Su Wanqing to a corner of the courtyard.
Under the moonlight, she plucked a branch of weeping crabapple, and the flower seemed to come alive in her hands.
"Look closely." Fangru flicked her wrist, and the flower branch broke through the air, bringing with it a fine rain of petals.
Her figure was graceful and elegant, every rise and fall was just right, as if in harmony with the rhythm of heaven and earth.
This was the key she had learned in her previous life when she hid behind a screen and secretly studied Zhou Ling's sword techniques.
Su Wanqing held her breath.
Fangru leaned close behind her and gently supported her wrist: "You should turn your wrist like this, like you're writing with a pen..." She suddenly stopped, this movement was so similar to Zhou Ling's posture when reviewing memorials.
"Watch closely." She flicked her wrist, and the flower branch drew a graceful arc in the air.
Every turn was a precise replica of the dance steps she remembered, the result of countless nights she had practiced repeatedly to please Zhou Ling during her many nights of being summoned to his bedchamber.
Su Wanqing was so engrossed in watching that she unconsciously started mimicking the gestures.
Fangru stopped her movements and helped her adjust the angle of her wrist: "After this turn, you need to turn to the northeast corner, there..." She paused, remembering that Zhou Ling always sat in that spot in her previous life, "...there will be a surprise."
As Fangru demonstrated, she spoke softly, and petals fluttered down with her movements. "The force when turning your wrist should be just right, like..." Her voice suddenly paused, and the focused gaze of Zhou Ling from her past life appeared before her eyes.
"How do you know such exquisite sword dance?" Su Wanqing took the flower branch, her eyes full of amazement.
Under the moonlight, Fangru's fingertips gently traced the falling petals: "Once... someone loved watching this dance the most." Her voice was very soft, as if she were talking to herself, "But in this life, I will never dance for him again."
The crabapple branch trembled slightly in Su Wanqing's hand, and a few petals fell silently.
Fangru bent down and picked up a piece, gently crushing it between her fingertips, as if crushing the past that should no longer be remembered.
The music faded, and the banquet fell silent. A eunuch's high-pitched voice broke the silence: "The dance competition begins."
Lin Yueyao leaned against the corner, idly waving the round fan in her hand, having long lost her previous desire to compete for attention.
The other noble ladies looked at each other, none of them daring to step forward. Who would be willing to compete with the courtesan who had been carefully trained by Zuixianlou?
In this subtle silence, Su Wanqing slowly walked onto the stage.
The crabapple branch in her hand still bore the dew of the night, gleaming lustrously in the lamplight. As the music resumed, she lightly turned her wrist, and the branch traced a silver arc through the air.
Fangru stood on the periphery of the crowd, watching Su Wanqing's every move, each one perfectly timed.
The silver bells jingled melodiously as she spun, like the tinkling of a clear spring under the moon. The "Flowing Clouds and Returning Snow" zither, which she had personally trained, was now radiating astonishing brilliance.
“The third turn…” Fangru murmured silently.
Sure enough, as Su Wanqing turned around, she looked precisely towards the northeast corner, where a tall figure was hidden in the shadows of a pillar. The dark patterns on the black robe flashed by in the lamplight, and Fangru's heart suddenly skipped a beat.
"good!"
Amidst cheers from the audience, Su Wanqing executed a beautiful spin, her skirt blooming like flower petals.
Fangru's gaze was fixed on Zhou Ling, who was casually stroking the jade thumb ring without even lifting his eyelids.
This isn't right.
Fangru unconsciously dug her fingertips into her palm.
In her past life, when she danced this dance, Zhou Ling's gaze was so intense it almost burned her through.
He didn't even notice that the wine glass in his hand had tilted, and the wine had soaked the cuffs of his dragon robe.
"Take one more look..." she murmured silently.
Zhou Ling merely rested his chin on his hand lazily, his gaze wandering into the night outside the hall. He didn't even give Su Wanqing a proper look until she left.
Fangru suddenly felt a surge of anger rising in her chest.
Her meticulously designed dance, her personally trained postures, and even the precise calculation of every turn's angle—all for this breathtaking moment.
But that man wouldn't even look at me?
“Zhou Ling…” She bit her lower lip, suddenly realizing that she was actually expecting something. This realization made her body burn with anger, both at his indifference and at her own concern.
The crabapple tree swayed gently, and Zhou Ling suddenly looked up.
Across the surging crowd, his gaze was as direct as the moon reflected in a cold pool.
Fangru's breath hitched, and the handkerchief in her hand slipped silently from her grasp. Her gaze was so focused that it seemed as if all the lights in the hall had dimmed, leaving only her standing alone in the shadows.
The emperor tilted his head slightly, a strand of black hair falling from the side of his jade crown, making his eyes appear even more profound.
Fangru felt a sudden, inexplicable heat.
In her memory, Zhou Ling in her previous life had never looked at her with such eyes. It was not the majesty of an emperor examining his subjects, but the almost impolite focus of a man gazing at a woman.
The wine cup spun halfway between his fingers, stopping at a subtle angle. Fangru suddenly realized that from this position, he could almost see the tips of her ears, which had just turned slightly red with anger.
A gentle night breeze stirred the stray hairs on her forehead.
Zhou Ling's gaze then fell on the cinnabar mole between her eyebrows, lingering on it for an almost audacious amount of time.
Fangru unconsciously raised her hand to cover herself, but halfway through, she abruptly changed her gesture to tidying her hair. This attempt to conceal her true intentions only made the emperor's eyes flash with a barely perceptible smile.
Fangru suddenly came to her senses and realized that the handkerchief in her hand had been crumpled up.
She discreetly tucked the handkerchief into her sleeve, her fingertips touching a damp patch. Before she knew it, her palms were covered in a fine layer of sweat.
"Is Miss Shen feeling unwell?" the noblewoman beside her asked with concern.
Fangru forced a faint smile: "It's alright, it's just a bit stuffy."
She looked up, but the figure in black had already disappeared into the crowd.
Fangru took a deep breath, lifted her skirt, and quickly walked through the corridor.
The night breeze brushed against her burning cheeks, but it couldn't dispel the inexplicable anxiety in her heart. She shouldn't have chased after him, but Gu Zhou was still waiting for her in the prison.
Deep in the garden, Zhou Ling was standing alone under a weeping crabapple tree.
The moonlight outlined his tall and imposing figure, and fallen petals clung to his shoulders, making it seem as if even an emperor had been touched by the dust of the mortal world.
"His Majesty."
Her voice was soft, yet it made Zhou Ling pause slightly. He didn't turn around, but simply raised his hand to catch a falling petal: "Miss Chen, you have quite the nerve."
Fangru pursed her lips and forced herself to take a few steps forward: "This humble woman has a favor to ask."
"Oh?" Zhou Ling finally turned around, crushing the petal between his fingertips, the juice staining his fingertips red. "For Gu Zhou?"
The sarcasm in his tone made Fangru feel a tightness in her chest.
A night breeze swept by, scattering a shower of petals, a few landing in her hair. Zhou Ling suddenly raised his hand, but stopped just before touching her, instead plucking a petal from her shoulder.
"When you ask for a favor, you should act like one." His voice was low and carried a subtle threat.
Fangru took a deep breath and was about to kneel when he stopped her wrist with his folding fan: "That's not what I want."
In the moonlight, his gaze was so blatant that Fangru instantly understood his unspoken meaning. She abruptly took a step back, her lower back hitting the cold stone railing.
"Your Majesty is joking." She forced herself to remain calm. "This humble woman merely wanted to..."
"Trying to fool me with your little tricks?" Zhou Ling suddenly moved closer, the scent of ambergris enveloping her. "For example... teaching someone to dance my favorite dance?"
A note from the author:
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