The Night Before Leaving the Palace, Reduced to the Tyrant's Plaything - chapter 6

Xu Qingzhan said nothing more, shoved the umbrella into her hand, and strode off alone into the wind and snow.

Wanyu’s frozen hand gripped the section of the umbrella handle he had just held, still carrying the lingering warmth of his palm.

That faint trace of warmth, though barely perceptible, burned like fire, igniting all the blood in Wanyu’s body along with the news he had brought.

In that moment, all the biting wind and snow seemed to leave her, and only one burning thought filled her heart-

That person had returned.

That person had kept the promise made years ago, returning just as she was about to leave the palace.

He had said that when the five years were up, he would come back to marry her.

He truly had not broken his word.

Tears blurred her vision as Xu Qingzhan’s tall, upright figure gradually receded into the swirling snow.

Wanyu longed to run after him, to ask where that person was now, how far from the capital he might be.

But in the end, she held herself back, standing silently in place, watching as Xu Qingzhan walked out of the range illuminated by the palace lanterns without once looking back, until all that remained was a hazy silhouette.

Eventually, even the silhouette disappeared.

“Gugu, here, take this lantern.” Fuzi came over carrying a Windproof Lantern. “The roads are slippery in the snow. Master was worried you might fall and told me to bring you a lantern.”

Wanyu withdrew her gaze and bowed to Sun Liangyan, who was standing under the eaves.

Sun Liangyan waved his hand, signaling her to hurry back.

Wanyu took the lantern, gave Fuzi a small, strained smile, and turned to leave before her tears could fall.

Fuzi, moved by her desolate smile, felt tears well up in his own eyes. He stood there for a moment, watching her walk away before returning to Chief Steward Sun’s side, brushing the snow from his clothes and sighing, “Master, I never thought even Chief Xu could show such kindness. That’s rarer than the sun rising in the west.”

Sun Liangyan let out a sigh.

Even the Living King of Hell had been moved to compassion, yet the Emperor showed not a shred of mercy.

It seemed the heart of an emperor was even more ruthless than that of the King of Hell.

After tonight, only two days remained. Hopefully, there would be no more mishaps, and that poor girl could leave the palace safely!

Wanyu stumbled back to her duty room. The room was as cold as an ice cellar; apart from blocking the wind, it was no different from being outside.

To think that having a private room was a privilege for a Gugu, but in weather like this, it was not as warm as the dormitories where the Palace Maids huddled together.

She rubbed her hands and went to the corner to check the bucket; the little water left inside had already frozen over.

She was considering whether to fetch some hot water from the tea room when someone knocked on her door from outside.

When she opened the door, Fuzi stood there, holding a copper kettle in one hand and a Hot Water Bottle in the other.

“Gugu, Master asked me to bring these. This kettle of water is for you to use tonight. The water in the Hot Water Bottle will keep your bed warm all night, and by morning, there’ll still be some warmth left-just right for washing your face.”

Wanyu was deeply grateful and quickly took the items, inviting him inside to sit.

Fuzi pulled out two patches of medicated plaster from his sleeve. “No need, I have to hurry back to serve the Emperor. Stick these plasters on your knees before bed-they work wonders.”

He handed the plasters to Wanyu and hurried off.

Wanyu listened to the crunch of his shoes in the snow, her eyes stinging with unshed tears.

Even in the coldest places, true affection could be found; even in the most desperate situations, hope could be hidden.

For example, Chief Steward Sun, Fuzi, Xu Qingzhan, Xue Ying, and that person who was rushing toward her day and night.

She just had to hold on a little longer, just a little longer…

The snow fell all night and did not stop even by dawn.

The entire Forbidden City was blanketed in ice and snow, a world of silver and white.

The first snow had come so fiercely; this winter would surely be hard to endure.

Fortunately, today happened to be the officials’ day of rest, so the Emperor did not have to rise early for court, and those serving nearby could also steal a little more time in their warm beds.

But Wanyu rose early, and while everyone else was still dreaming, she washed her face, dressed neatly, took the umbrella Xu Qingzhan had given her, and stepped out into the thick snow.
In the northeast corner of the harem stands a century-old Wishing Tree. No one knows when the rumor began, but it is said that this tree has become a spirit; if you make a wish to it during the first snowfall each year, your heart’s desire will come true.

Wanyu herself does not know whether this legend is true, but ever since she entered the palace, she has come to make a wish at the first snow every year.

Life in the palace is hard to endure; whether the story is true or not, having something to hope for is always good.

The reason she got up so early was to be the first to make a wish, hoping that being the first might make it more effective.

The snow on the ground was thick, and Wanyu trudged through it, step by step, until she was sweating by the time she reached the Wishing Tree.

Because it was the Wishing Tree, no one picked the persimmons from its branches. Hundreds of bright red persimmons hung like lanterns among the snow-laden branches, creating a striking and beautiful scene.

A wooden ladder stood beneath the tree; no one knew who had left it there for hanging sachets, but everyone found it convenient, so it had remained there year after year, untouched.

Wanyu looked around and saw that the area was clean, without a single footprint. She was delighted.

This was her last wish before leaving the palace, and she was the first to arrive. Surely, this wish would come true.

She set her umbrella down, pressed her palms together, and made her wish. Then, she took out the sachet she had embroidered herself and climbed the ladder, using both hands and feet, to the highest point she could reach. She hung the sachet on a branch.

A gust of wind blew, and the bright red sachet, the hundreds of persimmons, and the many red silk ribbons from sachets hung in years past all swayed together in the breeze.

Red symbolizes hope. Who knows how many people’s hopes this Wishing Tree carries?

A flock of birds swept over the palace walls, and her gaze followed them, looking far beyond the walls.

In that distant place, obscured by wind and snow, was her Mother, whom she hadn’t seen in five years.

If only she could ride the wind and fly over these high palace walls, she thought, hugging the tree trunk in a daze.

In the distance, Qi Rang, the Emperor, stood quietly in the wind and snow, watching her.

Her slender figure hung in midair, the wind lifting her worn white cloak, making her look like a kite whose string could snap at any moment.

Five years. At last, she was about to fly away.

Wanyu counted the time, not daring to linger. She quickly climbed down the ladder, bowed three times to the Wishing Tree, picked up her umbrella, and left.

After she left, the Emperor emerged from behind a pine tree in another direction, hands behind his back, gazing up at the Wishing Tree. He ordered Fuzi, who followed behind him, “Go and take down that sachet.”

“Yes.”

Fuzi responded and nimbly climbed up, retrieved the sachet, and presented it to the Emperor with both hands.

The Emperor took it, deftly extracting a slip of paper from inside.

On the slip, written in delicate calligraphy, were two words: “Peace.”

Peace.

Again, peace.

Five years. Every year she came to make a wish, and every year the sachet contained these same two words.

Did she truly only wish for peace?

Was she hoping for her own peace, or someone else’s?

Was this wish simply hers, or did it carry another meaning?

The Emperor unconsciously recalled the smile she showed two nights ago when she heard the Palace Maid wish her to find a worthy husband.

He sneered, tore the slip of paper to pieces, and with a flick of his hand, the fragments drifted away with the snow on the wind.

Fuzi’s heart gave an inexplicable twitch, and he sighed quietly to himself.

Wanyu came to make a wish every first snow, but she had no idea that every wish she made was torn up and scattered to the wind by the Emperor.

Today was her last wish before leaving the palace, and it was no exception.

What was the Emperor truly thinking?

Would Wanyu really be able to leave the palace safely?