No one expected Li Chengzhen to suddenly rush into the sea of flames. Everyone around froze, and it was Shen Wei who reacted first: "Go save him!"
Boom—
A charred beam collapsed in the raging fire, blocking the path of the palace servants trying to rescue him. Blistering flames surged forward, the intense heat instantly turning hair to ashes.
The Empress screamed, "Chengzhen! Someone, put out the fire now!"
She nearly lost her mind, desperate to charge into the inferno, but the smoldering beam at the palace gate barred her way.
The Empress threw herself onto the scorching beam, her hands instantly searing with pain as the stench of burnt flesh filled the air.
"Chengzhen!"
"My son!"
Chaos erupted around them as palace servants scrambled to fetch water. The Empress collapsed to the ground, as if aged ten years in an instant. She stared blankly into the fire, belatedly realizing that her last hope had been extinguished.
She no longer had a son.
Slowly, the Empress turned her head, her bloodshot eyes glaring venomously at Shen Wei in the distance. Suddenly, she lunged forward in a fit of rage, shrieking, "It's all your fault! You vile wretch, you killed my son! You should die in his place—why don’t you just die?!"
Guards swiftly restrained the hysterical Empress.
By the dead of night, the fire was finally extinguished. Eunuchs sifted through the charred ruins and found Li Chengzhen, lifeless. His body was curled into a blackened husk, clutching two fishing rods reduced to charcoal in his arms.
The Empress fainted on the spot.
Shen Wei worked tirelessly through the night. She arranged for the terrified Empress Dowager to be escorted back to Cining Palace, oversaw the cleanup of the burnt palace, ensured the Second Prince’s remains were properly prepared, dispatched messengers to inform Li Yuanjing at the royal estate, and worked to contain the spread of damaging rumors.
But secrets never stay buried. By the next day, news of the Second Prince’s fiery suicide had spread like wildfire.
The entire court knew.
...
At the Tantai residence, dawn barely broke as servants swept the grounds with fresh water.
After breakfast, Madam Tantai, feeling bloated, leaned on her cane and took a slow stroll around the courtyard, supported by two maids.
"Madam, please walk carefully. Mind the steps," one maid gently reminded.
Standing on the marble steps, Madam Tantai gazed at the withered plants in the garden and asked, "When will my son return?"
The maid replied, "Not until afternoon."
Madam Tantai’s heart was heavy. The Tantai family had been weathering storms—several relatives had been impeached for corruption, profitable ventures were being seized by the court one after another, and the entire clan teetered on the edge of ruin.
Autumn approached, and the garden’s greenery faded. Madam Tantai frowned at the yellowing leaves of the parasol tree, a grim omen.
This year, the tree seemed to wither even earlier.
A bad sign.
She instructed the maids, "Winter approaches. Pack the fox fur blankets from my room, along with two jars of pear syrup, and send them to the Empress tomorrow. She fears the cold, and now, confined to Kunning Palace, her heart must be aching."
The Empress was, after all, Madam Tantai’s most beloved daughter.
Despite her many mistakes, a mother’s heart never ceased to worry.
For this wayward daughter, Madam Tantai’s hair had turned nearly white, her back bent with care.
As the maids went to gather the furs, Madam Tantai gripped her cane and descended the steps—only for a frantic servant to burst into the courtyard, shouting, "Madam, terrible news! The Second Prince is dead!"
Her cane clattered to the ground. Staggering, she tumbled down the steps like a withered leaf.
Unraked parasol leaves fluttered up, drifting down to cover her fallen body.
...
Seven days later.
Under a gloomy sky, Kunning Palace lay in eerie silence.
The Empress sat motionless in the prayer hall. Since Li Chengzhen’s death, she hadn’t changed her clothes. In the summer heat, they reeked of sweat and decay.
She barely slept, drifting in and out of consciousness, waking only to kneel before the altar and wail until she passed out again.
A pitying maid draped a thin blanket over her shoulders and left simple meals by the door, then withdrew.
"Has Chengzhen been buried?" the Empress croaked as another maid entered.
The maid answered softly, "He has been laid to rest in the imperial tomb."
The Empress lowered her hollow eyes, her face gaunt with grief.
Clutching her prayer beads, she sneered, "The Emperor is truly heartless. Not a shred of sorrow for his dead son... I should have strangled those bastard children back in the princely manor."
While her son lay cold in the grave, Li Yuanjing hadn’t set foot in Kunning Palace, attending court as usual, his face devoid of grief.
The Empress’s heart turned to ice.
In this palace, warmth was a myth. Power always trampled kinship.
The maid stayed silent.
These past days, the Empress had wept, mourned, and despaired—until her heart grew numb.
She lifted her gaze to the white jade Bodhisattva on the altar. The merciful goddess, fed endless incense, had never once answered her prayers.
"Fetch paper and ink. I must write to my family. Mother will find a way," the Empress murmured.
All her life, in times of trouble, she had turned to Madam Tantai. Her mother had always pulled her from the abyss.
The maid hesitated, then whispered, "Your Majesty, the Tantai family is preoccupied. They may not reply."
The Empress tightened her grip on the beads. "Why?"
After a pause, the maid reluctantly revealed, "When news of the Second Prince’s death reached the Tantai household... Madam Tantai was so distraught, she fell down the steps... and passed away."
The Empress’s lips parted. Her eyes darted unseeingly as a hoarse whisper escaped her throat: "Who... passed?"
The maid continued, "The Tantai family is preparing her funeral. She will be buried soon. They... won’t have time to respond."
The Empress’s mind went blank. A tidal wave of grief and shock crashed over her.
Her eyes burned as tears—mixed with blood—streamed down.
Snatching a porcelain vase from the altar, she hurled it at the maid’s forehead: "Why tell me now?! Guards—I demand to see the Emperor! I must go home!"
Crack—
Blood gushed from the maid’s split brow.
The Empress lunged for the palace gates like a madwoman, but the guards drew their blades—she was still under house arrest. She clawed at the doors, screaming,
"Let me out!"
"I must... bury my mother!"
"Mother..."
"Shen Wei, you vile snake, this is all your doing!"
