Chapter 1
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"Princess Rongyi is dead!"
Little Zheng hurried over, bringing this news.
Xie Chang'an's hand trembled; the wooden bucket she had just filled with water slipped heavily back into the well, splashing her face with icy water. The coarse rope scraped across her chilblained hands, sending a piercing pain through her.
In the twelfth lunar month, Chang'an's chill had seeped into every blade of grass and tree. Though both wore cotton-padded clothes, it was but a drop in the bucket. Little Zheng had jogged all the way here just to keep herself warmer, and now she rubbed her hands together constantly, stamping her feet and breathing into her palms.
"How did she die?" Xie Chang'an's face was pale; it was hard to tell whether it was from the cold or the news she had just heard.
"They say... His Majesty ordered her death!" Little Zheng's voice dropped even lower, nearly inaudible. "An Lushan revolted. When news reached the capital, His Majesty was furious and directly ordered the deaths of both An Qingzong and Princess Rongyi!"
By the end, Little Zheng's voice was trembling and broken. She had met Princess Rongyi before—a gentle and kind young woman, never looking down on them because of her own noble status.
Moreover, because of the close friendship between Princess Rongyi and Xie Chang'an, Little Zheng had rushed to deliver the news as soon as she heard it.
She had expected Xie Chang'an to be overcome with grief at the news, but instead, Xie just let the bucket fall into the well, then slowly leaned against the tree by the well, her bent waist seeming as if it might break.
"Sister Xie..."
Little Zheng reached out to take Xie Chang'an's hand, but recoiled in shock as soon as she touched it. She had thought her own hands were cold enough, but Xie's were colder still—like a piece of ice that had not melted in a thousand years, chilling her to the bone.
Xie Chang'an remained motionless.
She was lost in memories of her past with Princess Rongyi.
The story of Princess Rongyi, Li Li, was an open secret in the capital—known to all but never spoken aloud. Eighteen years ago, due to the slander of Consort Wu Hui, Crown Prince Li Ying was deposed and executed by the Emperor. His posthumous daughter, still in swaddling clothes, grew up forgotten in the cold palace. The Emperor had not pursued the matter further, but that did not mean she had an easy life. As a woman of a disgraced imperial branch, what fate awaited her in the cold palace was obvious.
As for Xie Chang'an, she too came from a family of bells and jade, though not one of the "Five Surnames and Seven Clans," her ancestors were a branch of the Xie family from Chen Commandery. By the Sui and Tang dynasties, the Xie family had lost its former glory, but still produced notable officials and scholars.
As a daughter of the Xie family, she should have grown up to marry into a noble house, following the path of all her female elders, becoming the mistress of a household and running the inner quarters.
But all that was lost before she was even born.
In the twenty-fifth year of the Kaiyuan era, also eighteen years ago, the Xie family became entangled in the Crown Prince Li Ying's "secret faction case." Many were executed, exiled, demoted; some women were sent to the Ye Court, to wash clothes, sew, sweep—doing the lowest, most menial work in the palace.
Xie Chang'an's mother, pregnant at the time, became one of these convicted women.
The Ye Court, though used to confine women of the inner court, was not just a cold palace; it was also the residence of female officials, who managed the gardens, washed clothes, taught in the inner palace—all with their own duties.
Xie Chang'an stumbled through her early years but grew up safely. At seven, she began working as a palace maid.
Their shared misfortune drew Li Li and Xie Chang'an together within the deep palace, giving each other warmth and companionship.
From the twenty-fifth year of Kaiyuan to the fourteenth year of Tianbao, over a decade passed.
They were almost inseparable, accustomed to relying on each other in a place that, to the world, was the magnificent Taiji Palace—the very emblem of imperial power under the flourishing Tang dynasty.
But for them, it was an endless abyss, every step along a precipice of ice.
Half a year ago, the Emperor suddenly decreed a marriage for An Qingzong, son of An Lushan.
As an imperial marriage, the bride could not be of low birth. Yet throughout Chang'an, not only princesses but even noble families' daughters were unwilling to marry into such a union at the Emperor's behest. Though An Lushan had great power and imperial favor, he and his son were, after all, of foreign origin—only imperial grace allowed them their authority.
Rumors of An Lushan’s rebellion constantly reached Chang'an. The Emperor, hearing whispers, sought to bind An Lushan through marriage.
At the time, many families rushed to marry off their daughters to avoid this fate.
Perhaps prompted by reminders, after much commotion, the Emperor finally recalled his granddaughter, raised in the cold palace.
Thus, Li Li was granted the title Princess Rongyi and married to An Qingzong, becoming the centerpiece of this political union overnight.
The capital’s elites sighed with relief, saying Princess Rongyi was fortunate—even if her father was deposed, she could marry gloriously. With An Qingzong’s father’s standing, she would enjoy endless prospects.
But only Xie Chang'an knew that on the eve of leaving the palace, Li Li wept in her arms all night.
Li Li did not wish to marry—her whole life, like Xie Chang'an’s, had been spent confined within the palace, longing to see the sky beyond the high walls. Yet when the day finally came, she knew her fate might be even more uncertain than in the cold palace.
An Qingzong’s marriage to the princess did nothing to halt An Lushan’s rebellion. Shortly after their wedding, An Lushan declared his uprising in Fanyang. The imperial army suffered defeat after defeat; news reached Chang'an, and the once wise and illustrious Emperor, dulled by years of indulgence and complacency, lost his famed judgment, vacillating between confusion and rage. He chose the easiest outlet for his fury—
Killing.
An Qingzong and Li Li were both executed by imperial decree—even though their deaths could not change An Lushan’s determination to march on Chang'an, and only deprived the Emperor of his sole “hostage.”
When word came of An Lushan’s rebellion, Xie Chang'an knew An Qingzong was unlikely to survive, yet she still harbored a sliver of hope—surely her friend Li Li, after all, bore the surname Li, not An; the rebellion was nothing to do with her. Perhaps the Emperor would spare her life out of pity for her tragic fate.
But she had been too naive.
“I was still too naive,” Xie Chang'an whispered suddenly.
Little Zheng blinked. “What?”
Xie Chang'an murmured, “With a single wave of the Emperor’s hand in anger, a life is gone—no matter her innocence, no matter that she never wished to marry An Qingzong, no matter that she had no influence on the war at all!”
Those years spent together, all Li Li’s joys and sorrows, were now dust.
On countless summer nights, Li Li, knowing Xie Chang'an feared the heat, would give her extra ice; every year she made her pest-repelling sachets by hand, and in winter, she secretly shared her ointment to spare Xie Chang'an’s hands and feet from frostbite.
Li Li’s position was awkward and precarious—she did not have to rise early and toil like other maids, but most in the palace kept their distance, fearing to associate with her. Only Xie Chang'an never shunned her, often helping with her flowers and chores.
They had thought their quiet, dull days would go on unchanged—who could have foreseen that the fate of the empire would one day sweep Li Li into its storm?
From the start, this marriage had seemed ominous, but Xie Chang'an still hoped that after a life of suffering, Li Li might find happiness with her husband. Who would have thought that, just after leaving the palace, she would be killed by her own kin?
From beginning to end, no one cared for Li Li’s life or death. To those in power, she was merely a tool for a timely alliance, then a convenient object for their anger.
Xie Chang'an clenched her fists until her nails dug into her palms.
Even though she was now just a pawn, insignificant and adrift, even though she knew her own life meant little—why, besides grief, did she feel such burning indignation?
She knew—it was her fury at her friend’s fate, and her hatred for those who manipulated it.
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“With an emperor like this, chaos is only to be expected!”
Little Zheng paled with fright. “Sister Xie, I know you were close with Princess Rongyi, but those words are treason! Please, never say them again!”
Xie Chang'an closed her eyes, burying her anger and hatred deeper inside, her expression gradually regaining composure.
“Thank you for bringing me this news. Outside this place, I won’t say another word, nor implicate you. But I truly mean it when I say the world will fall into chaos.”
“That—can’t be!” Little Zheng frowned. “Great Tang is powerful. Even this year, the Prince of Tibet submitted himself. Everyone says His Majesty is just like Emperor Taizong, known as…”
“Heavenly Khan,” Xie Chang'an finished for her.
“Yes, yes, the Heavenly Khan!”
“Have you ever seen a Heavenly Khan so enraged by a frontier general’s revolt that he kills a hostage and his own granddaughter in a fit of humiliation?” Xie Chang'an asked quietly.
Before Little Zheng could respond, she continued, “Two years ago, the Turks were defeated by An Lushan, and the An army has since been regarded as the finest in the land, unmatched. His Majesty’s marriage decree was meant to lure An Lushan to the capital, but he refused, showing he had already harbored rebellious intent. Now he rises in revolt, sweeping all before him. His Majesty, in his humiliation and rage, ordered the deaths of An Qingzong and Li Li to vent his anger. From this alone, it’s clear the court is already showing signs of weakness and imminent defeat.”
Little Zheng was left speechless.
Xie Chang'an was often sent to do odd jobs throughout the palace, so in these turbulent times, it was no surprise she heard rumors. Yet most people still trusted the court and could not imagine the mighty Tang dynasty showing weakness as Xie Chang'an described.
But Little Zheng had always believed in her. Before, when they were both mere palace maids, it was thanks to Xie Chang'an’s help that Little Zheng became a records officer in the Ye Court—a minor official in the Tang palace. Far from nobility, but at least no longer forced into hard labor. She was grateful and often came to speak with her.
Xie Chang'an said, “Even putting that aside, haven’t you noticed that since two months ago, palace provisions have been cut?”
Little Zheng replied, “Now that you mention it, I remember—we used to get an extra egg and a bolt of silk each month, but now the eggs are gone and we haven’t received silk for two months! Is it that things are so dire at the front that even the army lacks supplies, and the palace has to make up for it?”
Xie Chang'an shook her head. “Even if the front is tight, it wouldn’t affect the palace this quickly. The cutbacks are because someone inside is gathering up resources and wealth.”
Little Zheng asked, “Why would they do that?”
Xie Chang'an replied, “Perhaps someone in charge of the inner palace is making plans—or maybe some already sense danger and are preparing in advance. In any case, they know more than we do. The situation at the front must be dire, or His Majesty would not have vented his anger on Princess Rongyi.”
The calmer Xie Chang'an was, the more uneasy Little Zheng became.
“Sister Xie, you’re not…”
Xie Chang'an smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t do anything. With my status, even the palace nobility rarely see me—how could I possibly plot against the Emperor?”
Little Zheng stammered, “You say that, but now I’m even more frightened!”
Xie Chang'an had no wish to frighten her; she simply could not contain her resentment and had spoken too much. She quickly changed the subject.
“When I came just now, Lady Zhang said that this year’s Shangsi Festival, the visiting of relatives by palace staff has been postponed three days for special reasons. She asked me to remind you. It’s only once a year, and you missed the meeting last year when you were promoted. Don’t let it slip by again.”
Little Zheng fell silent for a moment. “This year, I won’t go.”
Xie Chang'an looked at her closely, noticing her eyes were rimmed with red.
“Why? You’ve been longing for this all year. Most palace folk never get the chance—if you miss it, you’ll have to wait another year.”
Little Zheng gave a bitter smile. “Last time, the family sent word—father fell ill and died, and my two brothers are to be married. We’re poor as ever, always needing money. I’ve already sent what I could. If I saw them, it would only add to our grief. Don’t mind me, Sister Xie. If you have someone you wish to see, I’ll let you have my chance—just tell Lady Zhang.”
Seeing Xie Chang'an hesitate, she knew at once that there was someone Xie wanted to meet.
“Is it Young Master Wang?”
The Xie family was once grand, but Xie Chang'an’s close relatives had long since passed away. The only one who could stir such an expression was the young master of the Wang family.
Xie Chang'an thought for a moment. “Let me borrow your turn this time. If there’s another chance, I’ll return it to you.”
Little Zheng feigned anger. “Sister Xie, you’ve helped me so much. In this palace, I’m closest to you. Why talk of owing thanks between us?”
Xie Chang'an squeezed her hand.
“Thank you.”
...
Wang Ting stood by the water, hands behind his back, gazing out from the Fragrant Pavilion.
New snow weighed down the withered branches, heavy and about to fall, threatening to land on the playful kitten below.
He flicked his finger, and the snow broke apart in midair, scattering into gentle flakes without a sound.
The kitten took no notice, still chasing its own tail, leaving prints in the snow.
Outside the pavilion, a young woman in green walked slowly along the lakeshore.
This lake was called Dragon Pool, for Xingqing Palace, where it lay, was the Emperor’s former residence, and even its name carried a whiff of imperial dragon’s aura.
As the girl drew nearer, her beauty became ever clearer. Though she wore the plain uniform of a palace maid, in Wang Ting’s eyes, even coarse cloth could not hide her uniqueness.
He felt a stir in his heart, taking a step forward before catching himself and retreating half a step, hands behind his back unconsciously clenching, his expression more somber.
The green-clad girl was now before him.
She lifted her skirt to step into the pavilion, bowing with a curtsy.
“Forgive me for keeping you waiting, Young Master Wang. I thought you would choose the Hall of Great Harmony—it’s a long way from there.”
“The Hall of Great Harmony is too crowded for private conversation,” Wang Ting replied. “You’ve grown much thinner.”
Faced with his quiet concern, Xie Chang'an smiled.
“It’s nothing. Others lose weight in summer; I’m the opposite. I always slim down in winter, but regain it by summer.”
They were no longer strangers.
Years ago, the Xie and Wang families had an arranged betrothal; had it not been for the Crown Prince’s case, Xie Chang'an would be Wang Ting’s fiancée now. The Wang family of Taiyuan was illustrious—since the founding of Tang, not only producing ministers and generals but even two empresses. The match was a perfect one, but the old affair ended it.
Wang Ting’s father, remembering Xie Chang'an’s father’s lifesaving favor, had sent gifts to her over the years, maintaining the old bond between the families.
Though Xie Chang'an was not an official, by the Wang family’s influence she could sometimes leave the palace to meet him.
From five years ago, Wang Ting had himself delivered these gifts, and the two grew close.
They exchanged a smile, knowing how precious and short their meeting was, and said little in the way of pleasantries.
“It’s not a festival or special day—since you sent for me, there must be something important?”
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Wang Ting hesitated. “With the turmoil now, I fear there will be great changes. You must have heard rumors in the palace.”
Xie Chang'an replied, “I’ve heard—the rebels are advancing swiftly, already at Gaocheng.”
Wang Ting said, “It’s more than that. The news I have is that they’ve already taken Chenliu.”
Xie Chang'an was startled. “So quickly?!”
Wang Ting continued, “My master, watching the stars at night, says great chaos is coming that may engulf all the land—even the imperial city may not be spared. You are at the center of the storm. You should make plans.”
Xie Chang'an bowed her head. “With my status, I can only drift with the tide, my life and death at others’ whim. What plans can I make?”
Wang Ting could not see her expression, only the faint quiver of her lashes, like ripples on water—enough to make the young man’s heart tremble as well.
Their families no longer matched, and marriage was impossible. Yet, he was not completely heartless, or he would not have come especially to see her today.
Wang Ting said, “Recently, I became a disciple to a master—I have entered the Way.”
Xie Chang'an looked up. “Entered the Way?”
Wang Ting was silent a moment, then spoke openly.
“There are three thousand great paths in Heaven and Earth. Outside the mundane world, there are countless immortal mountains and blessed lands, where dragons hide and treasures rest—places mortals can never see in a lifetime. By chance, I met an immortal who said I had extraordinary potential for the Dao, and he accepted me as a disciple. Soon, I will follow my master to the sacred mountain to cultivate. I came today to bid you farewell.”
Xie Chang'an could not conceal her astonishment. “There are immortals in this world?”
Wang Ting replied, “I didn’t believe it either, until I saw my master’s powers... I haven’t been with him long, but—”
He broke off, then waved his sleeve toward the pavilion’s edge.
On the withered branch, the snow vanished and peach blossoms bloomed—pale red and white, swaying in the wind, their fragrance seeming to fill the air.
“It’s not an illusion.”
As if hearing her thoughts, Wang Ting swept his sleeve, sending petals drifting down. At the same time, two peach blossoms appeared in his palm.
Xie Chang'an took the blossom he handed her. It was soft to the touch, fragrant at a sniff.
“A true adept can turn winter into spring, changing the seasons of all Chang'an, or even the world. But I’ve only just begun—after much cultivation, I can affect only this one tree, and only briefly.”
“Turning decay into wonder…” Xie Chang'an was shaken. “Then is it possible, with a flick of the hand, to kill someone a thousand miles away?”
Wang Ting nodded. “A great master can, naturally. My master says there are sword arts that, at a certain level, let one wield the sword with the spirit, striking enemies a thousand miles off—not so different from what you described.”
“It sounds like a dream. But I’m a mere mortal, my fate not my own. To have seen you display such art—if I die tomorrow, I’ll have no regrets.”
Xie Chang'an looked up, her smile bright. She raised both hands above her head and bowed deeply.
“May you fulfill your aspirations in this journey, master the immortal arts, fathom the secrets of Heaven, and stand atop the human race!”
Wang Ting hurried to help her up.
“Chang'an, I had hoped to find a way to get you out of the palace in a few years…”
Xie Chang'an shook her head. “No need to say more. I’m already deeply grateful for all you and your family have done for me. Now that you have found an immortal teacher, perhaps this is where our fates part. I know my life is bitter and solitary—why implicate others?”
The more understanding she was, the more Wang Ting’s heart ached.
“My master has said there will be bloodshed in Chang'an—he cannot be wrong. Since we have known each other, I must try to help you escape this misery. In fact, there’s a way.”
Xie Chang'an looked up.
Wang Ting said, “I can arrange for someone to sneak you out of the palace and settle you with my family. Now that I’ve entered the Way, my family holds me in high regard. If I ask them to care for you, they won’t neglect you.”
Xie Chang'an asked, “When will you return? Will you come back?”
Wang Ting was silent for a moment. “I don’t know.”
Xie Chang'an smiled faintly. “I’ve heard that a day in the mountains is a thousand years in the world. I suppose the immortal realm is the same. I fear you will be gone until I am old and gray. Even if I stay with your family, in what position can I remain? As a maid, a concubine? It would only be awkward and improper.”
Wang Ting was at a loss, but spoke sincerely. “But if you stay in the palace, you may face disaster!”
“I have another request!”
Xie Chang'an suddenly knelt.
“For the sake of our acquaintance, please grant me some immortal means to protect myself—let me survive the chaos. Then I won’t trouble your family, and I can pray for you every day. Perhaps, one day, we will meet again!”
Before Wang Ting could reply, a stern voice rang out from the air—
"No!"
Both turned toward the sound.
A figure strode across the water, robes billowing, seeming both real and unreal.
Xie Chang'an had no idea when he had appeared.
It was as if he had always been there, unseen by mortals until he willed it.
Wang Ting, seeing his master, immediately bowed solemnly.
“Master!”
The Daoist, sword on his back, nodded slightly, but when he turned to Xie Chang'an, his gaze was sharp as a blade.
“So this is the woman you’re so attached to—a mere schemer, nothing more!” he said coldly.
Wang Ting was stunned. “Master…”
“You heard Wang Ting has entered the Way, and your first question is about killing, not self-preservation. You pretend to be pitiful to lower my guard. Your heart is deep and naturally vicious.”
The Daoist stared down at Xie Chang'an, his expression as cold and remote as a divine statue.
“If you learned immortal arts, who would you kill?”