Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The first time I met Yin Xianshan was on a winter night in the 13th Year of Showa.

The snow fell like crushed salt, and the palace walls were cold enough to crack bone.

He was being hunted. His shoulder was soaked in blood, and as he tumbled toward the abandoned well in the Cold Palace, even his breath smelled of rust.

At that time, I was the Qinghe Junzhu, a title bestowed by the late Emperor himself. My father was the Duke of the Realm, and my mother was the Grand Princess Zhaohua.

By all rights, I should have called the guards to bind the assassins and him together and send them to the Dali Temple.

But the moment I saw his eyes, I was possessed. I dragged him into the side hall.

“Who are you?” I asked as I stitched his wound, my fingers numb from the heat of his blood.

“A dying man has no right to a name.”

“Stop pretending. A dead man’s mouth wouldn’t be as stubborn as yours.”

He gave a short laugh. Though the veins at his temples throbbed with pain, he still smiled. “The Junzhu has a keen eye.”

My hand paused.

He actually recognized me.

I only learned later that he was Yin Xianshan, the Heir of the Prince of Zhenbei’s Mansion.

That night, he had returned to the capital on a secret decree, only to be ambushed. Someone in the palace wanted him dead before he could ever step foot inside.

I hid him for three days.

During the day, I carried medicinal bowls, playing the part of a dutiful daughter bringing soup to the Consort Dowagers.

At night, I changed his dressings and forced him to drink ginseng broth that was bitter enough to kill, all while enduring his mockery of my crooked stitching.

“Your needlework looks like a three-year-old sewing a pouch.”

“Keep complaining and I’ll embroider a flower on you.”

“On the wound?”

“On your mouth.”

He let out a low chuckle, which turned into a cough of blood.

I reached out to wipe it away, but he caught my wrist. His palm was as hot as fire.

“Shen Zhiwei.”

“Yes?”

“If I make it out of here alive, I owe you my life today. I will spend a lifetime to repay it.”

I was seventeen then. I had seen the hollow pretenses of the palace, but I had never heard words that struck so directly at the heart.

I believed him.

The night he left, he pressed a black jade toggle carved with the character for ‘Mountain’ into my hand.

I gave him a red string and said with a smile, “If you lose this, don’t come back to see me.”

That red string remained tied around his wrist for seven whole years.

Until he untied it with his own hands for the sake of another woman.

Chapter 2

During the days he sought to marry Ning Zhiheng, I attended court and reviewed documents as usual, without even a single typo.

But every night, I would clench that black jade toggle in my palm until it hurt.

My maid said there were bloody marks on my hand, but I couldn’t feel a thing.

A person is not at their most pathetic when they are crying.

It is when they feel that even crying is a waste of time.

After Yin Xianshan returned to the capital, the political landscape became like iron thrown into boiling water.

The late Emperor was gravely ill, the princes were fighting for the succession, and the Cabinet and the military were at each other’s throats. The entire city was filled with the whispers of “kill or be killed.”

With his military achievements in the north and the secret decree in his hand, Yin Xianshan climbed step by step to the sharpest edge of power.

At twenty-three, he was titled the Regent, taking control of the central government. Even the Censorate had to watch his expression before speaking.

And I was no longer that little girl hiding in the Cold Palace stitching his wounds.

After my mother passed away, I was ordered to join the Ministry of Revenue to manage the salt taxes. In three years, I cleared the deficits and cut off the private salt lines of seven major families.

The officials called me “Yama Shen” behind my back, but to my face, they had to address me as “Your Excellency Junzhu.”

We both stood at the summit.

By all logic, we should have stood side by side.

But the first time Yin Xianshan requested an imperial decree for marriage after becoming Regent, the one he asked for was not me.

It was the legitimate daughter of the Left Prime Minister, Ning Zhiheng.

The day the decree was issued, I was in the Ministry of Revenue’s warehouse counting silver.

A minor official said in a trembling voice, “Junzhu, would you like to… go home and rest?”

I didn’t even look up. “Will the silver grow legs and run back on its own just because I’m sad?”

He didn’t dare speak again.

I didn’t cry either.

Only that night, when Yin Xianshan climbed over my wall into my courtyard, I bolted the door three times.

He called my name through the door, his voice hoarse.

“Zhiwei, open the door. Let me explain.”

“What does the Regent have to explain?” I leaned against the door, my voice as flat as well water. “Explain that you’re marrying into the Ning Family to stabilize the court? Explain that you have no choice? Or explain that you forgot what you once said?”

It was quiet outside for a long time.

He said softly, “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Not forgetting makes it even filthier.”

I thought those words were harsh enough to save myself.

But once a person has truly loved, harsh words are nothing but paper shields.

At the court assembly the next day, I still blocked two petitions targeting his military funding as usual.

On the third day, when he handed me a cup of hot tea, I still reached out to take it subconsciously.

I loathed myself for it.

And I loathed even more the certainty in his eyes when he looked at me-the certainty that “you will understand me.”

It was as if my sincerity was his cheapest, most permanent hole card when he weighed his interests.