YUN SHI QI (雲诗琪)

  Day 15, 4th Month of the Lunar Calendar, 6000th Year of the Yun Dynasty, Taishan Province, Tian’an Sect

  “So, what do you propose, Grand Chancellor Deng?” snapped Grand Secretary Zhao.

  Then he flicked his eye toward my brother. Subtle, but desperate. Everyone in this room always hoped Yun Rongxian would speak on their behalf. He wore silence like a crown, and they mistook that for integrity.

  There was another reason, too.

  Grand Secretary Zhao was aligned with the Sui Household—Empress Huangmei’s maiden kin. Everyone pretended not to notice, but it was obvious. Painfully so. The women of the harem were forbidden from political engagement, yet the Sui household operated with impunity, parading their influence through court like silk banners on a windy day. No one said a word. Not even His Majesty.

  And who would dare? The Zhao Faction held half of the power in the court, and the Crown Prince was Empress Huangmei’s only legitimate son. Of course they’d curry his favour. Of course, they’d orbit around him like loyal stars around the imperial sun.

  I used to think it was a meritocracy. That if I memorised the rites, outperformed the tutors, and studied until the wax from my candle fused with my skin, someone would notice. But they didn’t.

  They only ever noticed him.

  In our trio of siblings, Yun Rongxian earned the Emperor’s confidence. My little sister won their love and affection. And me?

  I got nothing. Because I came from nothing. I was an accident.

  The Crown Prince didn’t respond to Zhao’s sycophantic gesture. He remained impassive. Even to me he was a man of few words. He always kept a polite distance. I used to think that maybe he feared me. I later realised he just didn’t see me.

  Finally, he turned toward the Emperor. “Royal Father.”

  “You may speak, Yun Hui,” said Emperor Tai Quan.

  He withdrew a memorial from his sleeve and turned to the Grand Secretary.

  “I reviewed Grand Secretary Zhao’s disease relief plan. It is simplistic. It accounts for public image and nothing else. Taishan Province is not only the ruling sect for the people of Taishan; listing methods on how to protect ourselves from the disease is only one side of the coin. We must also provide feasible strategies at the site of the disease outbreak itself, Zhouwei Province.”

  The utterly defeated Grand Secretary bobbed his head up-and-down like a drowning man. His plan had just been torn apart by the Grand Chancellor and was now gutted by the Crown Prince.

  I rested my hand on the marble table. It was cold. Smooth. I traced one of the little pockmarks near the edge. Probably damage from some ceremonial blade. Or from someone who had sat here, once, and felt as invisible as I did.

  It had been two weeks since Hongchen City's first outbreak. Two weeks of dead ends and silence. We had all the resources of the empire, and yet somehow—no cure. No cause. Not even a theory.

  Someone was hiding something.

  I let my gaze drift to the Minister of War. His face was sculpted from stone. Only a heartless guilty person could do that.

  He had the authority. The access. The magical power. The motive. Why did no see it?

  “Your Majesty,” said Grand Chancellor Deng, stepping forward with a low bow, “I must agree with the Crown Prince’s assessment. I don’t reject Grand Secretary Zhao’s proposal out of malice. It’s simply... unfit. Inhumane, in parts. Wasteful in others. I question whether it was drafted with honest intentions.”

  “That’s slander! Grand Chancellor Deng, I’ve treated you as a good friend, but you are consistently accusing me of having improper intentions.” Grand Secretary Zhao turned to the throne. “Your Majesty, I serve this court with loyalty. It is he who has disrupted this discussion with baseless suspicion!”

  “How dare you, you—”

  “Silence,” barked Eunuch Sun. The room snapped still. “You bicker like courtesans in a jìyuàn. Is this the conduct of men tasked with running the empire?”

  All around the chamber, officials dropped to their knees and bowed deeply, hands trembling.

  “We have offended Your Majesty. We deserve death.”

  The Emperor leaned back in his throne, shoulders drooping beneath silk robes and jade clasps. “I’m tired.”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  I clenched my hands under the table. Of course he was. He was always tired. Just as he was too tired to parent me.

  I was just another bother.

  I was born at the wrong time, with the wrong face, and the wrong temper. And now, I was expected to sit here and pretend all of this was fine. That I don’t see through every performance in this room.

  My father crowned me a princess and forgot the rest.

  He never wanted someone like me.

  I was just the backup.

  ***

  Another unproductive court session finished.

  I hurried out and into the palace hallways. I hated listening to the gossip that clung to me like old grease. All those rumours the servants muttered when they thought I was gone, snickers and snipes that I wasn’t supposed to hear but always did.

  “Look, isn’t that Yun Shiqi?”

  “Watch your tongue. It’s Princess Changping.”

  “Princess whatever, she doesn’t act like a princess. Or a lady, at least. How bold she is to reject the marriage bestowed on her by the Emperor. The Emperor!”

  “She is his favourite daughter.”

  “Pfff, she wishes. No respectable woman would choose to remain single at her age. She must have some hidden illness.”

  “Shhh…you can’t say that.”

  “Don’t shush me. I can say what I want.”

  Yes, yes, go ahead. Say what you want. It’s not like I’ve ever stopped you. Why would I? Why would anyone listen to me?

  “Well, well. If it isn’t Her Highness.”

  I froze.

  It’s him. That horrible, reeking voice—always slurred around the edges, like wine left too long in the sun. It was him. The man more loyal to brothels than his own family. The man who—

  “My dearest wife,” Sui Zhuxin announced, loud and theatrical without shame. “Is that any way to greet your husband?”

  I felt my shoulders coil. He strode toward me with that usual stench of arrogance and sour liquor. My body wouldn’t move. It never did when it should. Maybe part of me wanted to be caught. To be punished. At least then, someone would be looking.

  Thankfully, my maidservant stepped between us like a sword drawn from silk. “You are very bold, Sui gōngzǐ. The marriage matter between my miss and you has not yet been decided.”

  “But it will be, won’t it?” he said, reaching for me like I belonged on a shelf.

  I hid behind my maid. Her hand snapped up and slapped his away like an insect.

  “How dare you touch Princess Changping! Do you think your filthy hands are fit to be in her presence? Apologise now!”

  Even a servant was braver than me.

  What are you doing, Yun Shiqi?

  “Never mind Li Jing. Let it go,” I murmured, placing my hand on my maidservant’s shoulder. She turned toward me, eyes wide, as if she wanted to scream sense into me. Instead, she pursed her lips and swallowed her voice.

  Sui Zhuxin glanced down at her.

  Then he kicked her.

  She crumpled like paper.

  I scrambled to help her up, but his hand clamped around my wrist. Cold. Tight. Final.

  I flashed him a look. He grinned.

  His palm scraped down my cheek like sandpaper. I wanted to run. I wanted to claw my own skin off. I wanted someone—anyone—to see me. But it was just me, my maid, Sui Zhuxin’s thugs and the Imperial Garden as our backdrop. How it laughed at us.

  “There, there,” he cooed, like a man taming a feral dog. “That’s a sensible lady. Just be a good little wife.”

  I raised my hand to hit him.

  He caught it.

  Shoved me down.

  My knees collapsed under the weight of his expectations. My robes pooled around me like I was drowning in silk.

  “What are you doing, Yun Shiqi?” he said, grabbing my chin. “Were you planning to hit me? Who said you could hit me?”

  He was right.

  He was the Empress’s cousin.

  I shouldn’t have forgotten my place.

  “Let me go,” I whispered.

  He patted my cheek, not like a lover, but like someone inspecting bruised fruit. His eyes crawled across my face, full of hunger, full of power.

  “As long as I want, I will do what pleases me. And I don’t want to let you go. So what? How are you going to stop me? Look around.”

  I did.

  He was right again.

  No one was watching.

  No one ever watched me unless it was to measure what I lacked.

  Sui Zhuxin grabbed my face and brought his mouth down. His crusty and dry lips pressed on mine and his stubbly chin scratched like a bramble bush. He smelled of wine and sandalwood and something older—mildewed and clinging.

  I tried to pull his hands off, but his grip was carved from stone.

  His tongue whipped against my closed lips as he tried to force himself in.

  I bit him.

  Hard.

  His blood spilled down my chin.

  He shoved me off like I was nothing. A rat. Less than a rat.

  He wiped his lip, eyes blazing. “Feisty, aren’t you?”

  I wiped my mouth, but the blood clung to me like a brand.

  “I asked you—”

  “I think,” he said, voice thick with mockery, “my dear wife needs to be taught a lesson. Grab her!”

  His words were the last thing I heard before they dragged me off.