The Perilous Palace Dream - Chapter 32

Chapter 32

The next day, Zhang Shiyu went to the market.

Before leaving, he entrusted the neighbor’s daughter, Liu Ling’er, to keep his little madam company.

Liu Ling’er was fourteen years old and very pleased with the task Physician Zhang had entrusted to her.

After Zhang Shiyu left, she eagerly took the little mistress’s hand and led her into the inner room, excited to try out a new hairstyle she had just learned.

The reflection in the bronze mirror was breathtakingly beautiful—skin as white as a freshly peeled egg, eyebrows dark and shapely without needing any touch-up.

And those big eyes! Even as a girl, Ling’er felt like she was being drawn into them just by looking for too long.

It was a pity that such a beauty didn’t know how to style her own hair or dress herself.

Ling’er wondered about the little madam’s background—she must have been a young lady from a wealthy family, used to being waited on hand and foot.

Her every movement carried an air of elegance!

Today, Ling’er styled the little madam’s hair into a “fallen horse bun”.

She first applied jasmine-scented hair oil to the silky, jet-black locks that were almost too slippery to hold.

Then, she swept the hair into a slanting bun at the side of the head, secured it with an exquisite agate comb, and finally adorned it with a delicate apricot blossom hairpin inlaid with jade fragments.

The finished look made the little madam’s delicate face appear even more fragile and pitiable, with the bun cascading softly beside one ear.

The little madam turned her head left and right in the mirror before spinning around to give Ling’er a sweet smile.

“You really have nimble fingers! I struggled all morning and couldn’t get it right. I was just thinking of wrapping my head in a plain green scarf and calling it a day—thank goodness you came!”

As she spoke, she took out a gold-wired “floating cloud” hairpin from the dressing box and offered it to Ling’er as a reward.

“This hairpin’s craftsmanship isn’t the finest, but the design is quite elegant—definitely not vulgar. If you don’t mind, take it to wear for fun!”

Ling’er’s eyes widened with admiration, but she shook her head like a rattle-drum.

“No, no! Last time, Sister-in-Law gave me a pair of jade earrings, and when my mother saw them, she grabbed my ear and scolded me for ages! She said I was shameless for accepting such expensive jewelry after only helping you a little. If I dare take advantage of you again, she swears she’ll chop off my greedy hands!”

Nie Qinglin laughed at Ling’er’s words.

“What’s so expensive about them? They’re just ordinary trinkets from the market. Besides, I don’t have pierced ears, so those earrings were useless to me anyway. If you like them, I’ll just ask Zhang—uh, my husband—to buy more.”

Ling’er’s eyes grew even wider.

She pointed to the brand mark at the base of the hairpin.

“These are from Jin Rui Xiang in the capital! Last time I went to the market with my mother, I saw their branch in town—even their plainest bracelet costs enough to feed a small family for half a year! Brother Zhang must really dote on you, Sister-in-Law, buying such exquisite and rare pieces for you!”

Nie Qinglin was taken aback.

Having lived in the palace all her life, though not as lavishly as other princes and princesses, her daily necessities were still provided by the imperial system.

The only difference was that her items weren’t as finely crafted as those of the other young masters.

But she truly had no concept of how much silver these things were worth.

It seemed that in her excitement over being able to live as a girl again, she had carelessly spent a fortune without realizing it.

From now on, she really needed to tighten her belt… If only she hadn’t fled in such a hurry—she couldn’t even bring the private savings she had accumulated in the palace. And Qiao’er… she wondered how her maidservant was doing back there.

(T/N: She needs to be frugal.)

Nie Qinglin knew An Qiao’er’s loyalty well.

If she had truly escaped, there was no way she could ever return to that gilded cage of a palace.

If Qiao’er noticed her long absence, she would surely start overthinking—what if she followed in Old Physician Zhang’s footsteps and became a “loyal martyr”?

That’s why, before faking her death, she had instructed Physician Zhang to leave a letter for Qiao’er through Old Physician Liu.

The letter was safe even if intercepted, as it contained only a single line:

“Our hearts are in harmony, our affections aligned—but who will know of our midnight rendezvous?”

To outsiders, it would seem like Physician Zhang had been secretly in love with the palace maid and had sent a final love letter before his death to fulfill his longing.

But this line was actually a code phrase she had once read in a romance novel, used by lovers eloping with the help of a maidservant.

Back then, she had teased Qiao’er with it, joking that they should “play at being a phoenix pair” and escape the palace together.

At the time, Qiao’er had blushed for hours, scolding her for “not acting like a proper mistress.”

She could only hope that when Qiao’er read those words, she would remember their old joke and realize that her mistress had escaped with Physician Zhang.

The rest… would be up to fate.

After finishing the hairstyle, Ling’er felt that since she had received such generous gifts from the little madam, she should “return a peach for a plum” and repay her kindness properly.

(T/N: A saying meaning “to return a favor.”)

So she went home and fetched a small box, taking out a finely sharpened pair of scissors to give to the little madam.

“Sister-in-Law, don’t think my father is just a blacksmith—he’s actually employed by the Imperial Armory! He’s a government worker! My mother says his skills are excellent, and he was recently promoted—his wages are now double what they used to be! Look, these are the embroidery scissors he made for me. They’re so sharp! I’ve used them for ages without needing to sharpen them. I’m giving them to you!”

Nie Qinglin smiled and thanked the lively little girl, then carefully examined the scissors.

They were indeed no ordinary tools.

Compared to common ironware, these scissors were dark yet gleaming, cold and sharp—just like the steel whistle Lu Wenba had once given her, made of special material.

Though she had paid little attention to court affairs, she had heard that the recent swift suppression of the Prince of Anxi was largely due to this very type of refined steel…

To think that their neighbor was the family of a craftsman highly valued by Wei Lenghou—this village was truly no safe place to stay!

All she could hope for was that Brother Zhang would bring back some good news from town.

By afternoon, Zhang Shiyu finally returned.

Removing his wide-brimmed hat with its black face veil, Nie Qinglin saw that his expression was grave.

“Well? Any news from the capital about the new emperor’s ascension?” she asked hopefully.

Zhang Shiyu shook his head.

“There’s nothing on the town’s notice board. Besides, if a new emperor had been enthroned, there would have been a general amnesty—word would have spread long before any official announcement.”

Then, changing the subject, he pulled out a small black kitten from his bamboo basket.

“Look what I brought you, Lin’er!”

The little black kitten was adorable.

Though not as precious as the persian cat, Fluffballs, in the palace, its four white-tipped paws looked like they were treading on snow.

Seeing its new mistress, it immediately stuck out its pink tongue and let out a tiny, milky “meow.”

Nie Qinglin understood that Zhang had brought it back to distract her from her anxiety.

She thanked him with a smile and gently cradled the little furball, but inwardly, she sighed:

“Grand Tutor, what kind of gourd medicine are you brewing in that mind of yours?”

(T/N: A metaphor for “hidden intentions.”)

The Grand Tutor really needed some medicine himself.

Eunuch Ruan sighed quietly.

How many days had it been? The Grand Tutor had barely eaten or drunk anything.

The imperial physician, fearing his body would collapse, had prescribed a qi-boosting tonic, but even after it was brewed, the Grand Tutor refused to drink it!

Meanwhile, the officials standing before the desk also felt like they needed some “shock-calming medicine.”

After hearing their reports, the Grand Tutor’s handsome face instantly frosted over with a thousand-year chill:

“You’re telling me the Southern Border has been completely silent? That the Prince of Lingnan has only strengthened his defenses and borrowed troops from the Southern Border?”

“Yes, Grand Tutor. The Prince of Lingnan has even closed off all trade routes beyond his territory, claiming it’s for military drills. Merchants can only take detours now.”

The Grand Tutor fell into deep thought, his phoenix eyes gleaming sharply as they bore into the map before him.

For days, checkpoints everywhere had been on high alert, inspecting everyone thoroughly.

Not even a fly could slip past unnoticed.

Yet the behavior of the Southern Border and the Prince of Lingnan clearly showed the panic of conspirators whose plot had failed and who now feared exposure.

If they truly had the Emperor in their hands, they would have already started fanning the flames, seizing the opportunity to challenge the throne’s vacancy.

But they hadn’t.

Why?

The Grand Tutor felt like his heart was being slowly boiled to explosion.

So much time had passed—alive or dead, there should have been some trace.

Yet there wasn’t even a shred of evidence.

It was as if the little Emperor had vanished into thin air.

Several times in his dreams, he saw that delicate, sweet face smiling at him: “Grand Tutor, want some date cake?”

But the moment he reached out to pull the little dragon pearl tightly into his arms, the dream would shatter, leaving only cold emptiness in the vast bed—and his outstretched hand grasping at nothing but air…

In the dead of night, sleep was impossible.

For days, he hadn’t had a single proper night’s rest.

Every time he closed his eyes, that damned dragon pearl would float before him.

Wei Lenghou knew he was reaching his limit.

With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the officials and stood up, pacing out of the room.

After a long hesitation, he finally headed toward the Emperor’s bedchambers.

Eunuch Ruan sighed inwardly behind him.

No miracle cure could heal the Grand Tutor—only that Little Dragon could!

For days, Wei Lenghou had avoided the Emperor’s bedchambers.

Even the faintest trace of his presence there now was enough to drive him into a frenzy.

The anxiety over the Emperor’s inexplicable disappearance was gnawing at his nerves like never before.

He wanted nothing more than to throw all caution to the wind, order his armies to sweep through Lingnan and the Southern Border, and drag the Prince of Lingnan by his collar to demand:

“Where have you hidden the Emperor?!”

But… he was Wei Lenghou, the powerful Grand Tutor who held the fate of the nation in his hands.

A man who could not afford to lose his rationality.

He could spoil someone rotten—even if that someone was a boy forbidden by propriety.

He could indulge a youth to the ends of the earth—even if that youth demanded the stars from the sky.

But was he really about to lose his mind and do something so reckless it would endanger the empire?

Attacking the Southern Border now would be sheer idiocy!

The terrain was treacherous, the barbarian soldiers fierce.

Just the poisoned assassins from before were proof enough of how costly victory would be.

His current advantages were few.

Any shrewd gambler knew that desperate bets often led to utter ruin.

If he were to “rage for a beauty” and act on impulse, how would he be any different from the foolish Emperor Wei Ming, whom he had always despised?

Leaving Eunuch Ruan and the others behind, the Grand Tutor slowly entered the bedchambers.

Stepping inside, he found the place eerily empty.

Without its master—and without his visits—the palace had grown unnaturally cold.

The servants had grown lazy too; the one guarding the entrance was even dozing on the threshold, head drooping with soft snores.

The Grand Tutor had no energy to scold these useless dogs.

He strode straight into the main hall.

The little Persian cat, Fluffball, seemed to sense its master’s absence.

It meowed weakly at the newcomer.

The Grand Tutor paused, reaching out to stroke the cat’s soft fur.

His hand trembled slightly.

Even if he one day became Emperor and moved into these lavish halls… what would it matter?

Without that person by his side, what use was the entire kingdom?!

“Better to betray the world than let the world betray me!”

(T/N: A little history lesson..hehe.. this is a famous quote from Cao Cao. He was a famous warlord, statesman, and poet during China’s Three Kingdoms period (220–280 AD). He is one of the most iconic (and controversial) figures in Chinese history and literature, often depicted as a brilliant but ruthless strategist. In the Romance of the Three Kingdoms classic novel by Luo Guanzhong, Cao Cao portrayed as antagonist and a symbol of ambition and pragmatism in a chaotic era.)

Since those fools had dared harm the one who held his heart, pushing him to the brink of uncontrollable madness… then he would make them all pay with their lives!

Having finally resolved to send out the troops, the Grand Tutor turned to leave.

But just then, a light, cheerful melody drifted out from the inner chamber.

The Grand Tutor’s steps halted.

His face darkened as he slowly lifted the curtain at the doorway.

The singing maid inside was familiar—the Emperor’s personal attendant.

The two had always seemed close.

If not for the Emperor’s insistence that this Qiao’er was irreplaceable, like an elder sister to him, he would have long since replaced this somewhat pretty maid with someone else.

But now, it seemed the little Emperor had misjudged her character.

What kind of heartless wretch was she? How could she be singing when her master had been missing for so long?

The Grand Tutor was about to step forward and kick her to death for her insolence when his eyes suddenly narrowed.

Wait…

Qiao’er was folding the Emperor’s clothes—new spring and summer garments freshly delivered by the Imperial Wardrobe.

As the little Emperor had said, this maid was diligent.

While others lazed about, she was still working.

But… why was she packing all these soon-to-be-worn clothes into the bottom of a chest?

Was she so certain the Emperor would never return?

And why was she digging out strange long strips of cloth and odd padded vests, piling them into a long-extinguished brazier, and preparing to burn them with a firestarter?

An Qiao’er had deliberately found an excuse today to let the other palace maids and eunuchs go out to play, leaving only one to guard the gate.

After receiving Physician Liu’s letter, she had been puzzled at first—but then she remembered the old jokes between her and her mistress and suddenly understood.

Her little master had escaped alive!

If she could, she would have shouted for joy.

But she knew there were urgent matters to handle—the first being the destruction of her mistress’s personal belongings.

If these items were discovered during a future palace inventory, the secret her mistress had worked so hard to keep would be exposed.

By burning these incriminating things, the Fourteenth Prince of Great Wei could vanish without a trace, leaving only a beautiful young girl to live freely in the wide world beyond.

Just as An Qiao’er lit the firestarter, she suddenly felt a shadow looming over her.

She looked up with a start—

A tall figure stood behind her, his sharp brows raised, his phoenix eyes blazing…

Terrified, she dropped the firestarter into the brazier.

Wei Lenghou’s face was murderous as he kicked the brazier over, stomping out the newly kindled flames.

He stared down at the trembling maid, picked up one of the binding cloths, and inhaled its familiar scent.

Then, through gritted teeth, he demanded:

“What. Is. This?”