Chapter 9

After leaving Renshou Palace and standing under the sunlight, Zhao Rongzhang’s lips gradually straightened into a flat line. She brushed her hands, but it wasn’t enough. The more she thought about it, the more disgusted she felt, so she asked Ming Luo for a handkerchief. She wiped her hands several times before stepping onto the sedan chair and departing.

Zhao Zhu had killed her mother—he was her enemy. Emotionally, she had absolutely no desire to interact with him or cultivate any sibling affection. Unfortunately, rationally speaking, she needed to win over this puppet.

Her father’s illness had struck suddenly. No one could have predicted that an emperor in his prime would linger on his sickbed for months due to a common cold, finally passing away at dawn as spring approached. The edict of succession clearly bore Zhao Jue’s name, but Zhao Jue had never been formally appointed as crown prince. Thus, rumors circulated among the people that the late emperor had originally intended to name his youngest son, Zhao Zhu, as heir.

Therefore, the first contender for the throne was Zhao Zhu. Next was their royal uncle, Prince Su, who was far away in the southwest. Prince Su was the late emperor’s blood brother; the two had been deeply close since childhood. After being enfeoffed as a prince in the southwestern region early on, he rarely entered the capital. Over the years, he had cultivated considerable influence locally.

It could only be blamed on Zhao Jue’s misfortune. Their father had governed with clarity for most of his reign, but in his final two years, he had been unable to maintain control, leaving behind a Great Zhou plagued by disasters and crises. But even more blameworthy was Zhao Jue’s sheer foolishness—his lack of ability and vision. With so many pressing issues to resolve and people to be wary of, he had instead chosen to fear first and foremost Zhao Zhu, who could barely speak clearly, and her, a princess with no real power. It seemed he had been traumatized by their exceptionally deranged yet exceptionally favored mother.

The palace walls towered high, and the sky visible when looking up was confined to a square. Zhao Rongzhang deliberately had her sedan chair carried to the front of the largely burned-down Jinshen Hall, where she sat comfortably, leisurely admiring the scene. Craftsmen from the Construction and Repair Department were working diligently on repairs, each drenched in sweat.

That fire had utterly shattered Zhao Jue’s sanity. The Grand Empress Dowager would now have ample reason to govern from behind the curtain and assist in state affairs. Moreover, in the future, if Zhao Jue’s lifespan proved insufficient and his heirs were lacking, then Zhao Zhu, raised under the Grand Empress Dowager’s care, would have an even more legitimate claim.

The weather was strangely hot, and a rising restlessness gradually spread through her body. Feeling unwell, Zhao Rongzhang ordered her sedan to leave the palace. On the way, she encountered Ren Ping, who was entering the palace to see the emperor. Ren Ping stood by the palace wall, lowering his head to avoid her. Zhao Rongzhang glanced at him, noticing how he was gathering all his senses, straining to detect Guan Xuan’s presence.

Zhao Rongzhang paid no mind, closing her eyes for a brief rest as she returned to the Princess’s Mansion.

In the afternoon, lying on the Jade Mat Cooling Couch, cooled by the breeze fanned by palace maids on either side, and taking the Cold Melon Ming Luo had retrieved from the Ice Chest and sliced open, Zhao Rongzhang struggled to regulate her breathing. Yet even after resting like this for over half an hour, fine beads of sweat would still occasionally appear on the young woman’s temples and the bridge of her nose. That restlessness grew increasingly intense, which felt very wrong. Zhao Rongzhang had Ming Luo summon Imperial Physician Yu.

Imperial Physician Yu’s beard was long and white; he was over seventy years old and had been treating Zhao Rongzhang since she was in swaddling clothes. After performing pulse diagnosis with a suspended thread, he asked directly from behind the curtain, “Has Your Highness already stopped taking the Snow Essence Pill?”

Zhao Rongzhang frowned and asked, “Didn’t you say that sexual intercourse between a man and a woman could also detoxify the poison?”

Imperial Physician Yu’s brow twitched, and he fell silent.

Zhao Rongzhang smiled and said, “You’re a physician. Nothing about my body can be hidden from you, so I might as well speak plainly. I won’t take this medicine anymore. Illness doesn’t necessarily restrict me in every way, but it does keep me from being free at all times. Examine me carefully—has the toxin in me not been fully cleared?”

Imperial Physician Yu wiped his sweat with his sleeve and replied, “The heat toxin in Your Highness’s body was indeed released previously, but… but it was not completely cleared. Your Highness must have consumed a significant amount of warming foods today, and moving about has stirred it up again.”

Zhao Rongzhang set down the half-eaten Cold Melon and washed her hands in the cool water. The icy, sweet red juice of the melon was rinsed away. She dried her hands and asked bluntly, “Are you saying I didn’t do it thoroughly enough, that I missed the crucial point?”

“Your Highness could seek guidance from the senior palace maids who are well-versed in such matters.” Imperial Physician Yu kowtowed, unwilling to say more.

Zhao Rongzhang waved her hand impatiently and had him escorted out.

She called Ming Luo in: “Prepare the sterility decoction.”

Zhao Rongzhang stepped barefoot off the bed, overturned the Ice Chest, and kicked the ice blocks to scatter them across the floor. She paced back and forth on the ice, soaking her feet until they were wet. Then she called Ming Luo in again: “I’ve done it so many times—why does the physician still say I haven’t cleared it? What part haven’t I cleared?”

How much more was needed when she’d already gone to the point of being stuffed until her eyes rolled back?

The young Princess, clearly tormented by the heat toxin and losing her patience, grew irritable. She resembled a peony blooming fiercely under the scorching sun, yet parched and thirsty. Ming Luo watched her, feeling both pity and amusement. During those days, every time she had toyed with the cat in the hall, it had lasted quite a while, and she had called for water again and again—could it be that she had never grasped the proper method?

Who knew how they all did it. Ming Luo righted the Ice Chest, moved the larger ice blocks back inside, and began patiently asking her about some key details.

Zhao Rongzhang desperately wanted to lose her temper, but Ming Luo was so calm that she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She could only puff out her cheeks, furrow her brows, stomp on the ice, and answer each question in a sharp tone.

Ming Luo quickly identified the problem: “Your Highness never allows him to move?”

“What does he need to move for? The one who wants pleasure is me, not him.”

“But Your Highness doesn’t like to move either?”

“I did move.” Zhao Rongzhang gestured to demonstrate how she had moved.

Ming Luo found it hard not to laugh but didn’t know how to explain. She could only guide her to think: “Every spring, the cats in every palace mewl day and night with drawn-out cries, annoying Your Highness so much you can’t sleep well. Do you remember?”

“How could I forget?”

“And the way those two cats cling to each other back-to-back—do you remember that too?”

Zhao Rongzhang fell silent.

“Perhaps what Imperial Physician Yu meant by ‘not cleared’ is exactly this. Even when digging through a mountain to open a channel, there must be both entry and exit.”

Zhao Rongzhang’s cheeks suddenly grew warm. Displeased, she picked up the unfinished Cold Melon, ate it in a few bites, and tossed the rind aside: “What about the sterility decoction?”

Ming Luo couldn’t help but laugh, her words rather cutting: “With the way Your Highness plays, there’s really no need to make him drink it. It wouldn’t be of any use.”

“Enough, it’s so annoying!”

Ming Luo went out to bring the sterility decoction, then left again. The palace maids set up a screen and prepared the water that would be needed.

Now, only the two of them remained in the vast bedchamber. Zhao Rongzhang sat on the edge of the bed, took a deep breath, and called the cat out.

The cat stood before the princess, lowering his gaze to watch the melting ice on the floor. Water spread steadily across the surface. Zhao Rongzhang stared into his unperturbed eyes, displeased.

She ordered him to remove his mask. The cat complied, revealing a flushed face. Clearly, he had heard every word of her conversation with Ming Luo.

Two flushed faces faced each other, one standing, the other seated. Zhao Rongzhang’s furrowed brow suddenly relaxed. Her tone icy, she told him to undress quickly. With his head bowed, the cat stripped completely, then instinctively moved to wash and dry himself, but Zhao Rongzhang had lost all patience. “Finish first, then wash.”

The cat’s body was snow-white, like the He Shi Bi jade—clean, so washing hardly mattered. When she had given him the name Guan Xuan years ago, it was because he wore dark robes and hid in the shadows, remaining indistinct even after prolonged observation. Guan Xuan, Guan Xuan—it carried a subtle, contemplative Zen-like quality. Moreover, his agile movements and silent presence made him seem like a great mysterious cat, coming and going freely, adding to the name’s aptness. As for why Ren Ping called him Mysterious Cat, Zhao Rongzhang wasn’t entirely sure. Perhaps he shared her sentiment.

But in reality, “Mysterious Cat” was actually a white cat. Perhaps it was due to the thirteen years he spent growing up in the Shadow Pavilion—not only was he unusually pale, but his body hair was sparse, making him resemble a smooth, flawless piece of cold jade. Zhao Rongzhang, raised on imperial provisions and of noble birth, naturally possessed delicate, fair skin, but her fairness was a warm, healthy glow, unlike his.

The cat stood on the plush rug, this time with no fabric to grasp. Zhao Rongzhang observed that while his expression remained emotionless, his body betrayed him utterly, leaving nothing concealed. Her mood lifted. How wanton.

He was still drinking the sterility decoction when she approached and took action, using what overflowed from his tip to slick everything. She had no desire to waste time. The cat hadn’t expected this; halfway through the medicine, his usually gentle, silent face changed abruptly—his brows furrowed, his eyes clouded with confusion and daze. Swallowing became difficult; the half-sip of medicine in his mouth couldn’t be swallowed amid his ragged, hurried breaths and instead trickled from the corner of his lips.

But Zhao Rongzhang urged him, “Drink.”

The cat continued holding the medicine, and the princess didn’t stop her motions. Tormented, by the end he found the taste on his tongue unbearably bitter. Before he could wipe the corner of his mouth clean, his chest was pressed down forcefully as the princess pushed him onto his back. He yielded, collapsing once more, and saw the ornate, solemn ceiling above.

Though his mouth was filled with endless bitterness, the cat lifted his eyes, wanting to look at the princess. He was a mute who couldn’t speak; no one would hear his voice. Sometimes, his eyes were his only means of expression. In his world, aside from the princess, there was no one else. And the princess was the peerless princess, the moon reigning over all things—she could hear so many voices, she wouldn’t turn to listen to his.

Except in moments like these, when their bodies were as close as could be, when she was intimately connected to him—it seemed she could see his eyes and hear the pain crying out in his heart. She held him, as if in that moment, he were the thing she cared for most.

Guan Xuan knew he was a debauched thing. These days, he always seemed to look forward to serving the Princess. He longed for her to look into his eyes, to say anything to him. Comforting words, teasing words, humiliating words—he anticipated them all.

But today, the Princess was irritable. She only wanted to detoxify as quickly as possible, needing only that one useful part of him. Guan Xuan tried to catch the Princess’s gaze with his eyes, but she treated him like a piece of wood, contemplating how to use him. She employed him according to her newly understood method. Guan Xuan stared up at her without blinking, veins bulging, wounds splitting and bleeding, his eyes misting over. Even when he could no longer hold back and tears rolled from the corners of his eyes, the Princess did not look at him.

Once the Princess was done, she pulled away, stood up on shaky legs, looked down at his disheveled state, and said lightly, “Alright, go wash up.”