The mulberry trees in the courtyard stretched their branches luxuriantly. Shen Wei held a golden hook for picking mulberry leaves in one hand and a small bamboo basket in the other, practicing the art of harvesting.
Cai Lian approached with the information she had gathered, reporting to Shen Wei, "Mistress, as per your instructions, I’ve uncovered the identity of the Southern Chu envoy who intruded into the imperial garden that night."
Shen Wei carried the small bamboo basket back to the pavilion by the water. She opened the letter Cai Lian handed her, scanning the details about the Southern Chu envoy in a single glance.
The envoy’s name was Lu Xiao, a thirty-year-old rising official holding a key position in the Southern Chu Court of State Ceremonies. He was effectively the chief negotiator of the Southern Chu delegation.
Cai Lian had even secretly arranged for a portrait of Lu Xiao to be sketched and shown to Southern Chu merchants in the capital. They all confirmed the man in the painting was indeed him.
"So, he truly is a genuine Southern Chu official," Shen Wei murmured, flipping through the gathered intelligence three times before tossing it into a small bronze burner.
The flames licked the papers, reducing them swiftly to ashes.
After a moment of contemplation, Shen Wei decided not to let her guard down. She instructed Cai Lian, "Go and relay this to De Shun—find a way to inform His Majesty about the Southern Chu envoy’s intrusion into the imperial garden."
Cai Lian nodded. "Understood."
As Cai Lian departed, Shen Wei returned to the courtyard to continue picking mulberry leaves. Li Yuanjing was no fool. If Shen Wei had noticed the envoy’s suspicious behavior, so would he.
She didn’t need to shoulder the burden alone. If the sky fell, Li Yuanjing’s towering presence would bear it. And if even he faltered, she had legs to run.
...
Time flowed silently, the breath of spring growing ever richer. The Southern Chu envoys had temporarily settled in the capital, negotiating the intricacies of border trade and imports with Qing State officials.
Matters of national commerce demanded meticulous attention, slowing the progress of the agreement to a crawl.
Ten days passed, and Qing State welcomed the two grandest ceremonies of spring—the Imperial Plowing Ceremony and the Imperial Silkworm Ceremony.
The Ministry of Rites, adhering to tradition, arranged for both events to be held on the same day at the imperial estate on the outskirts of the capital. The officials were swamped, working day and night without even returning home.
At dawn, the solemn blare of horns and drums echoed through every corner of the palace.
In the desolate Kunning Palace, withered branches and fallen leaves littered the ground.
Amid the curling incense smoke in the prayer hall, the Empress abruptly opened her eyes. Her face was lifeless, her gaze hollow. She set down the scripture in her hands and slowly rose, stepping out of the hall.
Leaning against a yellowed wooden pillar, she listened to the austere ceremonial music and murmured belatedly, "Today is the Plowing and Silkworm Ceremony..."
Time crawled in the frigid silence of Kunning Palace. Unnoticed, another spring had arrived.
In previous years, the Empress had presided over the Silkworm Ceremony.
This year, it would undoubtedly be Shen Wei.
A bitter, mocking laugh escaped the Empress’s lips, her heart brimming with resentment. Staggering back into the prayer hall, she collapsed onto the prayer mat and lifted her clouded eyes to the compassionate statue of the Bodhisattva.
Clasping her hands in prayer, she whispered fervently, "Oh merciful Bodhisattva, do not let that vile Shen woman revel in her triumph. Strip her of the Emperor’s favor. May her children perish, and may the old crone Empress Dowager meet her end."
The hall was silent, the courtyard overgrown with weeds.
Like a madwoman, the Empress continued her frenzied prayers, beseeching the heavens to cast Shen Wei into an abyss of ruin.
...
The palace gates swung open as the imperial procession set forth. Shen Wei and Li Yuanjing rode in the royal carriage, the grand convoy advancing along the imperial road toward the estate outside the capital.
The estate was not far.
Fields and mulberry groves had been prepared. The ceremonies were, in truth, little more than an elaborate performance for the heavens.
Inside the smoothly moving carriage, Shen Wei and Li Yuanjing wore plain attire. Noticing his preoccupied expression, Shen Wei gently took his hand. "Your Majesty, we still have some way to go. Rest for a while."
Li Yuanjing’s handsome face remained composed.
"I’m not tired," he said.
Shen Wei studied him with narrowed eyes. He responded with a tender smile, brushing his fingers over her soft cheek before falling silent.
Guarded by the imperial army and followed by officials, the procession soon arrived at the estate under the fluttering black-and-gold banners of Qing State.
Shen Wei and Li Yuanjing parted ways. Guided by officials from the Ministry of Rites, Shen Wei headed toward the mulberry grove, where dozens of tables and chairs had been arranged for the noblewomen and ladies-in-waiting already gathered.
Shen Wei noticed four armed guards trailing her. She paused, her gaze settling on the tiger insignia engraved on their armguards.
Four Tiger Guards.
"Why are you following me instead of protecting His Majesty?" she asked.
One of the guards bowed. "Your Highness, we are under orders to guard you closely."
Shen Wei was taken aback.
The Silkworm Ceremony was brief, attended mostly by delicate noblewomen. With patrols of guards and soldiers, security was tight. In contrast, Li Yuanjing’s Plowing Ceremony was far more elaborate and time-consuming—logically, it should have warranted greater protection.
Yet he had sent four elite Tiger Guards to her side.
A frown creased Shen Wei’s brow as unease coiled in her chest.
At the ceremony site, the noblewomen rose to greet her. Shen Wei’s gaze swept the crowd—most of the imperial consorts were present, save for Liu Ruyan and Lu Xuan.
Liu Ruyan had always shunned crowds and declined to attend.
Lu Xuan was bedridden, too ill to participate.
Attending the Silkworm Ceremony was a great honor, so nearly every high-ranking noblewoman in the capital was present—except for Tantai Rou, wife of the Vice Minister of Rites.
Shen Wei summoned Princess Donglin and asked quietly, "Where is Tantai Rou?"
The princess replied, "Your Highness, Tantai Rou has been ill with a chill these past few days and couldn’t attend. I’ve had five or six physicians verify her condition—she isn’t feigning. Though, it’s possible she’s taken something to mimic the symptoms. I’ve left spies around the Yan residence to monitor her."
Shen Wei pondered this.
Tantai Rou had fallen "ill" shortly after the Southern Chu delegation’s arrival. How convenient.
...
Under the bright sun, the mulberry leaves unfurled in lush green splendor. Dressed plainly, Shen Wei led the noblewomen into the grove to gather leaves, adhering to the ceremony’s rituals.
Throughout, she remained vigilant, half-expecting an assassin’s arrow to strike from the shadows.
Yet the event concluded without incident—no assassins, no disturbances.
The noblewomen strolled outside the grove, delighting in the spring blossoms. Shen Wei sat alone beneath a canopy, sipping a medicinal brew for her pollen allergies.
She turned to Cai Lian. "When will His Majesty’s Plowing Ceremony end?"
