Chapter 8
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Chapter 8: Memories
On this day, the emperor visited Nanqiongzi, accompanied by the concubines of the imperial harem and noble ladies. The Yanxiang Temple had prepared early to welcome these distinguished guests. Ah Wu barely slept through the night, working tirelessly with Miaoxin to sweep and clean, running back and forth at the command of others, so busy her feet barely touched the ground.
As the honored guests entered the temple, Ah Wu and Miaoxin, as ordinary Daoist followers, went to the main hall to stand in line for the reception. Upon arrival, they saw more than a hundred Daoist priestesses reverently standing inside and outside the hall. The hall itself was adorned with twelve hydrogen lamps, twelve palace deities, and the ancestral tablets of past empresses, each with its own stand, candles, lamps, and offerings of coins and silk.
Ah Wu kept her gaze lowered, eyes on her nose, nose on her heart, standing quietly and respectfully, not daring to make a sound. All she hoped was that the Crown Princess would not come, and if she did, that she would not recognize her. She wished only to keep a low profile, to avoid any unexpected trouble.
As she pondered this, the music of the palace began to play, light and enchanting, like the sound of jade pendants swaying in the breeze. It soothed Ah Wu’s mood, tempting her to look around. But when she glanced up, she caught the stern gaze of the head of the temple upon her. Ah Wu hurriedly looked away, striving to appear dignified and composed.
At that moment, the honored guests entered the temple. Ah Wu glimpsed the imperial guards outside, all dressed in brocade robes with wide sleeves, green-edged caps, and holding silver-tipped, black-lacquered staffs, forming a solemn procession.
Amidst the palace music, a sedan chair stopped, and ceremonial officials stepped forward to assist the honored guest in alighting. Officer Song led trusted Daoist priestesses to receive the guest, while Ah Wu and others were taken aside by the temple head to aid in the ceremony.
Ah Wu stood by a window lattice, curiosity piqued, stealthily peering outside. She saw palace maids carrying glass lanterns and jade-handled fans, flanking the guest, with red gauze and gilded candle cages lighting the way ahead—a grand and solemn spectacle.
Surrounded by attendants, a noble lady finally appeared. Ah Wu observed that this lady wore a crown adorned with dragon and phoenix hairpins, and a black silk forehead band embroidered with golden cloud dragons and set with fine pearls—extravagant beyond compare.
Her attire was a deep blue silk robe, embroidered with cloud dragons and multicolored bird motifs. Ah Wu guessed this must be the Empress herself.
The Crown Prince was not born of the Empress, but his biological mother, the Virtuous Consort, had died early. He acknowledged the Empress as his mother and treated her with filial respect.
Now seeing the Empress, Ah Wu was surprised; she did not appear old, and in fact, looked rather youthful. Ah Wu counted on her fingers—the Crown Prince was her age, sixteen, and the Emperor seemed to be thirty-two or thirty-three. Was the Empress the same age? If so, her youthful appearance was only natural.
Once the Empress entered the hall, Officer Song attended her reverently, accompanying her through the elaborate rites of prayer and offering. At first, Ah Wu watched with interest, but soon grew weary.
Suddenly, she was pushed aside. Startled, she looked over.
Miaoxin quickly signaled her and whispered, “The Empress wishes to speak with you.”
Ah?
Ah Wu’s heart trembled with anxiety. She had been hiding here just fine—why was she suddenly summoned?
Did the Empress want to see what kind of calamity-bringing beauty she was? Or was she to be executed, lest she bring disaster to the realm?
Suspicious, but with no choice, Ah Wu carefully stepped forward and paid respects to the Empress.
As a Daoist priestess, she did not need to kneel; instead, she clasped her hands in salute. “This humble Daoist Miaozhen greets Your Majesty the Empress. May the Daoist ancestors bless you with longevity, health, and auspicious fortune.”
After she finished, the hall was quiet. The Empress made no sound.
Ah Wu’s suspicion deepened.
Finally, a voice came from above: “Miaozhen? That is your Daoist name?”
Ah Wu quickly replied, “Yes, it is my Daoist name.”
The Empress nodded gently, her voice kind. “Raise your head and let me see you.”
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Ah Wu did not wish to lift her head, but had no choice.
She raised her head, eyes lowered, face full of reverent humility.
Yet, as she did so, a murmur of awe spread among those present, and the Empress herself let out a soft “ah.”
Then all fell silent. Ah Wu felt the Empress was scrutinizing her, a long, probing gaze.
Ah Wu dared not speak, keeping her eyes lowered, waiting respectfully.
She sensed something else in the Empress’s gaze—perhaps some dislike or rejection?
Was it because of the Crown Prince...?
As she wondered, the Empress’s voice finally came: “Indeed, you are a beauty.”
Ah Wu grew more anxious. “Beauty”—she did not consider that a compliment.
The Empress had already instructed Officer Song, “Guide her well, let her devote herself to cultivation here.”
Officer Song smiled, bowing. “This humble Daoist will obey.”
Ah Wu was finally dismissed, her heart pounding, terrified.
She recalled what Nie San had said—that someone meant her harm. Was he not merely trying to frighten her?
Did the Empress wish her dead?
Yet in front of these noble figures, she was but an ant. If they wanted her dead, why send her to Yanxiang Temple? They could simply decree her execution.
Unable to resolve her confusion, Ah Wu felt uneasy and fearful.
Living... was so difficult!
From outside, music sounded again as the noblewomen and royal relatives entered Yanxiang Temple one after another. Ah Wu wanted to see the Crown Princess, but all she saw was a dazzling array of jewels and finery; overwhelmed, she dared not look closely, unable to spot the Crown Princess.
Just then, she felt a gaze—a familiar, chilling stare that made her back go cold.
In that instant, memories surged like a tide—joyful, agonizing, desperate recollections flooded her, nearly causing her to collapse.
She closed her eyes, shivering uncontrollably.
Finally, she summoned the courage, stiffly and slowly turning to look in that direction.
It was as if a dense morning mist lay before her, gradually fading, revealing a streak of elegant ink. It gently spread, finally coalescing into a refined and handsome face.
It was him.
The Seventh Lord.
In Ah Wu’s memory, the Seventh Lord was always dressed magnificently. Now he wore a crimson flying fish robe, his crown and attire radiant, handsome and dignified. Even among the opulent ranks of the imperial family, he stood out brilliantly, drawing all eyes.
Ah Wu stared, unable to believe—why was he here?
Just then, the Seventh Lord’s gaze landed lightly upon her.
Their eyes met; his long lashes lowered, lips curling into a smile rich with meaning.
The man was strikingly cold and elegant. In that moment, his smile eclipsed the daylight.
Ah Wu’s mind went blank, the world spinning.
Only then did she realize: the day she was expelled from the Crown Prince’s residence, after passing through the colored archway and the bustling streets, the gaze she felt was his.
He had always known her situation—knew she had been sent away, knew she had come to Yanxiang Temple.
Everything about her was under his control!
Thinking this, Ah Wu felt naive.
How could he not know? After all, he had orchestrated it all himself.
She smiled bitterly.
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She was born by the eastern sea, her father once a scholar, mastering the classics and history by age ten, renowned locally. But after the region suffered pirate raids, many common folk were caught up in the turmoil, and her father’s hopes for the civil exam were dashed.
Her mother sold her dowry jewelry, scraping together a few dozen taels of silver. Her father abandoned scholarship for trade, going to sea with her two elder brothers. With skillful business dealings—trading lacquer and rice—over several years, the family accumulated some wealth. Ah Wu grew up in comfort, not as opulent as the daughters of the rich, but always well-fed, and whenever her father returned from overseas, she received curious little gifts.
Yet, that year, her father and brothers went to sea and encountered pirates, vanishing without a trace. Soon after, a great flood struck the coast, her hometown was devastated—fierce winds, torrential rain, flooding, collapsed houses, injuries to people and livestock. Her mother died in the disaster. Ah Wu hastily buried her, fleeing with neighbors in panic.
She was exceptionally beautiful, unlike ordinary folk. Usually, she disguised herself with ash and soot, but even so, she attracted many men, some seeing through her disguise.
During the flight, the crowd was mixed, and among them were villains lusting after her beauty. She struggled desperately, barely able to protect herself.
Eventually, she fell into the hands of a man—tall and imposing, with followers; his background unknown.
By this point, Ah Wu had reached the end of her rope, and sought shelter in his arms.
This man was the Seventh Lord.
He was not of good temperament—smiling outwardly, but truly unpredictable, ruthless and cold. Ah Wu spent half a year at his side, living as one would beside a tiger, cautious at every turn, afraid to provoke him.
Much happened afterwards. Ah Wu learned he was not from the coast; he intended to return to his homeland. She did not wish to follow him and begged to be left near the sea, hoping her father and brothers would return.
The Seventh Lord would not agree; Ah Wu tried to escape but failed. He caught her, imprisoned her on a ship, demanding her company day and night, using every means to make her addicted to pleasure.
To ease her suffering, she feigned compliance, only to discover she was pregnant.
She was barely of age, taken by this mysterious Seventh Lord, now forced to bear his child—she felt despair, and secretly bought herbs to induce miscarriage. But the Seventh Lord discovered her actions.
Whenever she recalled this, Ah Wu remembered his venomous gaze—cold and predatory, like a snake lurking in the night.
He hated her fiercely, nearly strangling her.
Afterwards, events were hazy. She only remembered the Seventh Lord treating her like a treasure, yet always wary.
She lived in a daze, carried the child to term, and gave birth.
No cries were heard, no baby seen.
A matron informed her: it was a stillborn.
She felt nothing.
Since age fourteen, her father and brothers vanished, her mother died, her hometown ruined, she was left alone, forced to seek protection from a man of unpredictable temperament. Now, this result brought no sorrow.
Death was a relief; it spared her future worries. She regarded it as recovering from a grave illness.
The Seventh Lord found skilled matrons to nurse her carefully.
Yet his temperament grew darker; sometimes when she awoke, she found him silently watching her, as if weighing, as if struggling.
It unsettled Ah Wu; she felt he must be plotting something.
It was as if he were trying to appraise her worth—to see what price she might fetch.
As Ah Wu lived in fear, one day, her attendant said, “The Seventh Lord has found you an excellent place, will grant you security and lifelong wealth.”
She was carefully dressed and sent before the Crown Prince, who instantly fell for her, and thus she followed him to the capital.
The Crown Prince was handsome, noble, gentle, and doted on her, but Ah Wu felt little emotion.
It was all for her beauty.
Yet, under the Crown Prince’s tender care, she gradually relaxed; at times, it seemed her former torment was over.
At least, the Seventh Lord had finally let her go.
But who would have thought—he has appeared once again.
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