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The Jiao Tu Beast on the Gilded Coiling Dragon Column opened its bronze mouth, a wisp of blue smoke curling up between its fangs. I knelt on the icy, cracked golden bricks, the chill creeping up my bones, while the hem of my embroidered golden phoenix tail skirt rippled in the mist of Dragon's Blood Incense. Chu Hengdi's jade pendant, shaped like a dragon, swayed at his waist, its chipped edge resembling the intricate fish scale pattern found on the shard of jade that had been left behind by an assassin three days prior—an unmistakable mark of the Southern Liang Shadow Guard's "Broken Jade Mark" technique.
"Li'er, are you aware that urgent news has come from the northern borders?"
The tip of his black dragon-patterned boot flicked up a folded paper that brushed against my forehead. The scarlet characters "Southern Liang Movements" tore through the silk, ink smudged with reddish-brown stains. I covered my nose with my sleeve and inhaled; the scent of rust mingled with dragon's brain incense—it was a confidential letter soaked in dove's blood.
"I have heard that the Southern Liang envoy will arrive in the capital next month." My fingertip traced over the word "Hostage," tapping lightly on a tea stain, causing a brown spot to flake away and reveal a silver-threaded wolf head totem beneath. "But I wonder... which prince will be coming?"
The sound of my agate ring striking the armrest of the dragon throne echoed like a warning bell. Chu Hengdi suddenly leaned forward, candlelight casting deep shadows on his brow. "Three years ago during the autumn hunt..." The gilded paperweight pressed against my old scar felt cold against my skin, overlapping with memories of arrows. That day, the deer calls in the forest had abruptly ceased; a broken arrow from Consort Shu's guards had pierced my shoulder, its fletching branded with the emblem of the Second Prince's Residence.
A sudden gust swept through the warm chamber, causing the twelve pearl lamps to flicker chaotically like a swarm of demons. When the seventh copper lamp burst into flames, a soft sound came from behind the screen—the gentle twang of a crossbow being drawn back—three fingers wide and seven inches long; the Dragon Scale Guard never needed a second arrow to kill.
"Does your injury still hurt, Father?" I suddenly stood up, sweeping my wide sleeves to knock over the nine-turn exquisite box atop the Jade Case of Azure. The seven-treasure heart-lock sprang open as it hit the ground, half of a Tiger Talisman sliding out from within, stained with blood. The title page of "Shan He Zhi" boldly displayed "Yongchang Grain Transport Map."
Chu Hengdi's tapping fingers abruptly stopped as eighteen silver glimmers flashed from behind the Pillars of Coiling Dragons. The Dragon Scale Guard's goose-feather blade had already been drawn three inches out of its sheath, reflecting beads of sweat at my temples. Yet he clapped his hands and laughed, pressing the Tiger Talisman into my palm with his gilded armor. "Li'er, do you know why I have kept Consort Shu until now?"
Thunder rumbled outside as three pearl lamps extinguished in response. In that moment between light and dark, I deciphered the emperor's silent lips—"To raise a gu requires a vessel." As lightning split the sky open, he slid out a blacksteel box from his sleeve; dark brown blood crusted around its taotie-patterned lock.
"Take this." A violent cough shook him, dislodging his crown adorned with Dong Zhu as blood spattered onto the wolf head totem on my letter. "Go investigate Yongchang Grain House..." Before he could finish speaking, a Yellow Gate Attendant stumbled into the hall, his glass crown askew atop his hair. "Your Majesty! Azure Dragon Square has flooded!"
I gripped the still-warm blacksteel box and retreated hastily, catching a glimpse of Consort Shu’s zhai bird carriage passing around the corner in its reflection. Her fingers tipped by Dan Kou lifted the beaded curtain; her phoenix eyes held a cold smile—just like when she presided over executions in my past life.
The torrential rain washed over the white marble steps; in my palm, the Tiger Talisman felt hot against the downpour. Crimson seeped from gaps in the blacksteel box; Southern Liang’s hidden messages revealed themselves like centipedes crawling across silk: "Those carrying the Tiger Talisman shall meet at Dark Channel during Hour of the Rat." On the vermilion-painted Imperial Map of the royal city, Azure Dragon Square was being scorched black by licking flames.
"Your Highness, shall we prepare a sedan chair?" Zi Juan held up an oiled paper umbrella as raindrops tapped out secret messages on its ribs. I gazed towards the southeastern sky where flames soared high; memories from my past life clung to me like an affliction—on January 7th of Yongding First Year, at precisely this spot, Million Stones Disaster Relief Grain had turned to ashes in an explosion. And it was on that day that it was I who received a fire stick from none other than this emperor who was now coughing blood in his study.
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