Chapter One: Death by Imperial Decree

“Dagger, poison, or silken cord, Your Majesty—please choose one.”

Half-asleep, Xue Fanzhi heard the eunuch Bao Hui calling her. She knew then her end had come. In truth, she'd sensed it days ago.

Ever since Xiao Yi confined her to reflect on her behavior, she’d dreamt nightly of Xue Jiaoyue, dead for a decade, coming to find her.

In her dreams, it was as if they were both girls again, seated side by side at their coming-of-age ceremony, Xue Jiaoyue dressed in finery. Suddenly, a dark figure approached, intent on killing Xue Jiaoyue. Yet, with those fair and gentle hands, unseen by others, Xue Jiaoyue pushed her forward. The assailant’s sharp dagger plunged through her embroidered sash and into her belly…

“Your Majesty? The imperial decree of death—please, no more pretending to sleep!”

Xue Fanzhi slowly sat up. Before her stood Bao Hui and three young eunuchs, impatiently holding the three instruments of death.

She raised her hand. “Wait. I dreamt of Xue Jiaoyue again. Do you know my elder sister? Clearly, I took the blade for her, yet in my dreams, she was the one who pushed me. What do you make of that?”

Everyone knew the Empress had a twin, Xue Jiaoyue, who married Prince Yu, Xiao Jian. Ten years ago, Xiao Jian rebelled, and with him, the Xue family was destroyed by Xiao Yi—her sister, her kin, all dead.

Back then, Bao Hui and the others hadn’t yet entered the palace.

Bao Hui pursed his lips. “The Empress shielding someone else from a blade? Aren’t you only skilled in underhanded deeds?”

At sixteen, Xue Fanzhi married Xiao Yi, then still Prince Jing. Five years later, he ascended the throne and made her Empress. She would never claim to be a saint, but she had not committed a single crime. She was simply unable to bear children, yet people accused her of harming heirs, bewitching the Emperor, poisoning consorts…

She sighed. “I’d gladly do something wicked, but I’ve never had the chance. His Majesty always beats me to it.”

Bao Hui scoffed. “Boasting even in the face of death! So, you mean all your misdeeds were really the Emperor’s? Have you no pride? After he destroyed your family, you bear him no grudge?”

Strange as it seemed—perhaps she truly didn’t hate him.

Xiao Yi had wiped out the Xue family, but by then, her mother was dead, her brothers long fallen in battle. Only her father remained, and they were never close. When he died, she couldn’t even summon tears.

So, what was there to hate?

Bao Hui caught her meaning and grew anxious. “He’s kept you locked away for so long—aren’t you angry?”

This time, the confinement was because Imperial Consort Wen accused her of an affair with General Cheng Ye. Before, Xiao Yi couldn’t last three days before visiting her, shamelessly coaxing her to smile. This time, half a month had passed with no sign of him; perhaps he truly believed it.

Men could never tolerate such things.

Still, she felt no hatred. For all these years, no matter who bore him children, her title as Empress remained untouched, and he spent twenty days of each month by her side.

How could she hate him?

Bao Hui, now truly exasperated, gritted his teeth. “But now the Emperor has ordered your death—surely you must resent him?”

At these words, Xue Fanzhi’s expression changed slightly.

Bao Hui relaxed a little, and once again presented the three instruments of death. “Your Majesty, it’s time.”

Xue Fanzhi frowned. “I just had a bizarre dream. My mind is still filled with the image of Xue Jiaoyue pushing me. Let me think it through, can’t you wait?”

“Wait—”

“Your Majesty! Empress!” Bao Hui was nearly frantic. “This is an imperial decree of death—death! No one can defy it. You’ve been cast into the cold palace, fallen from favor. Don’t you understand?”

“Or do you wish to shamelessly seek out the Emperor, like other women?”

She considered it, then dismissed the thought. Fourteen years in the harem, always condemned by officials for being barren. Her mother and brothers gone, no kin left in the world, she had long since grown tired and lonely. She’d thought of dying before, but Xiao Yi kept too close a watch.

But she never believed he would truly decree her death.

Well, the edict was out—what was there left to say?

Xue Fanzhi, prone to melancholy, was easily persuaded and resigned. She slipped on her embroidered soft silk shoes, stood, and took up the dagger with slow deliberation…

Outside the Pepper Chamber Palace, under the brilliant May sun, Imperial Consort Wen sat in her grand eight-carried sedan, eyes narrowed in satisfaction.

Bao Hui presented the bloodstained dagger to her, ingratiatingly. “The suicide note is already tucked into the Empress’s shroud. Now it’s certain—caught in adultery, she took her own life out of shame. Even if the Emperor wishes to investigate, there’s no evidence.”

The decree and the command for death had both been forgeries by Consort Wen.

She’d long wanted Xue Fanzhi dead, but Xiao Yi’s protection foiled her—until recently, when illness left him unable to manage harem affairs.

Consort Wen, wrapping the dagger in a handkerchief and turning it in the sunlight, felt both revulsion and excitement. “Did she finally see things clearly at the end? Did she curse the Emperor? I wanted her to die hating him, so much so that even in another life she’d refuse to be with him!”

Bao Hui hesitated, then replied, “Of course she hated him. The Emperor ordered her death—how could she not?”

Relieved, Consort Wen tossed the dagger onto a tray for Bao Hui to use as evidence, then adjusted her hair and called to her maids, “That’s better. Return to the palace—it's time to bathe. The Emperor’s illness must be nearly cured.”

She had a child to conceive.

Bao Hui worried, “But what if the Emperor learns the truth?”

Consort Wen was unafraid. With the north and south divided and Qi and Wei threatening to invade, the Wen family’s military power made them untouchable. Xiao Yi, if he wished for peace, dared not lay a finger on them.

But Consort Wen miscalculated. That very day, Emperor Xiao Yi, frail and ill, disregarded the protests of his ministers and the threats from the northern states. He ruthlessly exterminated the entire Wen clan—three hundred souls—stripped them of all titles, leaving only the illegitimate General Wen Chengyan to guard the river.

The Consort was granted a death by imperial hand, with no dagger offered—her choices were a destroyed body or a disfigured face.

The only consort to bear a son, Virtuous Consort De, nearly danced with joy when she heard the Wen family had been purged.

She had no powerful family, only patience and forbearance. Now, with the demon Empress and Consort Wen dead, the harem had no mistress but her—and she alone had a son. She’d won by default.

Palace maids knelt to congratulate her: “Congratulations, Your Ladyship! Blessings upon you! You’ll now reside in the Pepper Chamber, you are the new Empress!”

Indeed, she had fallen for Xiao Yi at first sight. Her life’s wish was not for her son to be Emperor, but to stand beside Xiao Yi as Empress. At last, her dream had come true.

As the final victor in the harem’s intrigues, Virtuous Consort De waited daily for the imperial edict to make her Empress. She endured the demon Empress’s grand funeral, weathered the Grain Rain festival, and finally awaited the Emperor’s customary sacrifice to heaven—a moment when great announcements were made. The title of Empress was within reach.

Yet, an hour later, four strokes of the cloud board sounded at the palace gates, followed by the funeral bells from the Drum Tower—the number that signified the Emperor’s death.

Already fragile from the strain of waiting, Virtuous Consort De nearly collapsed. She grabbed her attendant Su Jin and cried, “Did I mishear? The Emperor’s so young—how could he die so suddenly?”

Su Jin beamed, “Congratulations, Your Ladyship! Blessings! During the sacrifice, the Emperor touched something that drew lightning—he was struck dead! The Crown Prince is now enthroned, and you are the Empress Dowager!”

Virtuous Consort De slumped to the floor, stricken and tearless. “I wanted to be Empress—Empress…”