Chapter 8: The Mysterious Palace

  The wind outside was cold and biting, blowing across the wooden window frame, leaving a chill in the air. It was already November, and even in the southern region of Nan Chu, there was a hint of coolness in the air. I wondered how the Xiongnu people from the frozen north would get through this unbearable winter, having heard that many livestock had already died from the cold.

  She wore a pale blue robe, with a snow-white embroidered cloak draped over it, standing like a ghost under the palace lamp beside the bookshelf. She tilted her head up, staring intently at the bright red wax melting slowly and solidifying again, her facial expression as still as ancient ice, without a hint of fluctuation. Outside the door, a purple-clad maid occasionally poked her head in, with a worried look on her face, as if fearing she would suddenly go mad and kill herself.

  These three days can be said to be the most painful three days since Tang Xiaoshi was born 26 years ago.

  That day, she slept till she woke up naturally, which was one of the rare times in so many years as a special agent that she ignored her biological clock and let herself sleep in. Perhaps, deep down, she didn't want to wake up and face reality either. The moment she opened her eyes, she suddenly had a vivid illusion that what she saw when she opened her eyes would be the warm and safe dormitory, or the luxurious and comfortable hotel, or even the naval submarine cell, but not as desperate as what was in front of her now.

  For the first time, she had doubts about herself.

  She had never felt such despair in the African jungle, surrounded by enemy terrorists. But now, she felt a deep sense of powerlessness from the bottom of her heart.

  After all, what lay before her in the past were only a few cold seas and deserts, not like now, where the giant ravine of time blocked her way.

  Although all of this is so incongruous and unbelievable, she can't find any flaws to refute it. In the past few days, she has thoroughly understood the surrounding situation, clearly seeing the palace buildings, small bridges, flowing water, flying eaves, and household items. Her years of experience as a special agent have made her deeply understand that rebuilding an entire palace to such an extent is absolutely not something that can be done in just three to five days. With her experience, even if there was only one tiny flaw, it would definitely not escape her eyes, but all the details here, including every blade of grass and every tree, are completely consistent with the accumulation of daily life.

  As expected, when she picked up the copper mirror on the case and saw this unfamiliar face, Tang Xiaoshi was completely desperate.

  Everything is hinting at a result, don't bother with Einstein's theory of relativity, don't think about the mysterious Bermuda space-time wheel, and don't pay attention to the strange connection between matter and antimatter. She, Tang Xiaoshi, a special agent 003 from the National Security Bureau's Military Intelligence Division 9, survived the naval bombardment and traversed through time and space, arriving in an unknown era thousands or tens of thousands of years away, her soul flying across, reincarnated into the private concubine of the Crown Prince of Southern Chu.

  Facing this absurdity, Tang Xiaoshi really didn't know whether she should laugh three times to celebrate her narrow escape from death.

  It's just like people who haven't experienced war can't understand its cruelty. Those who haven't had such experiences also can't understand the mood of this little poem at this moment. Lonely and isolated, with only her shadow as company, she stands alone in the vast cycle of time and space. She doesn't have any sense of novelty, nor excitement from imagination, not even a hint of relief after surviving a disaster.

  For the first time, she couldn't hold back her tears in the dark night, just like many years ago when she was abandoned by her loved ones and wandered alone on the bustling streets. She buried herself under the quilt, biting her lip, letting tears stream down her face. It was as if a ritual, that night, she bid farewell to the life and country she knew, acknowledging the cruel reality.

  On the second day, Lanting Temple was not as lively as Xiaoshi had imagined. Everyone in the entire Lanting Hall was waiting cautiously, waiting for the storm that would follow after Lan's outburst on that day. Unfortunately, after the storm came an unusual calmness. The countless people hiding in the dark were all carefully speculating, what did this peaceful surface mean? But Xiaoshi, whose heart was as dead as ashes, didn't care about anything else. She quietly ate and washed up, under others' care, like a wooden puppet, losing all her vitality.

  Her world had turned upside down and then back again; when she lifted her head once more, it was no longer the same sky as before.

  A sudden rapid footsteps sounded, Xiaoshi's ears were still working, and her mind moved. The pearl curtain slightly moved, and the fragrance of the best jasmine tea floated in gently.

  "Master, Concubine Rou has arrived." The maid Xiangju hastily came in, took over Concubine Rou's rain cloak, and nimbly served tea and poured water for her, appearing quite familiar. Clearly, the former Concubine Rou was a frequent guest of this Lanting Hall.

  Roufei stood on the carpet in the inner room, her shoe tips still slightly damp. The rain outside had been drizzling for half a day and showed no signs of stopping yet. One autumn rain, one coolness, after this rain, perhaps real winter was coming.

  "Qing Xia," Rong Fei suddenly spoke up, but only managed to say these two words before seemingly being unable to continue, wanting to speak again yet stopping herself.

  The air was heavy with an oppressive atmosphere. Xiaoshi stood under the palace lantern, her head thrown back, and her pale face looked otherworldly beautiful in the candlelight. At this moment, she seemed like a bird whose wings had been clipped by humans, having shocking and thrilling dreams, yet also having endless sorrow.

  "The crown prince's sister's illness will be over in a day or two." Consort Rou finally let out a sigh and said in a low voice. She slowly walked to Xiaoshi's front, grasped Xiaoshi's slender wrist, slightly lowered her head, and stared blankly without speaking. After a long while, a teardrop suddenly fell, landing on Xiaoshi's pale wrist.

  Roufei suddenly lifted her head, opened her eyes wide and stared at Xiaoshi. Her eyes were filled with a fierce determination and pain, like a raging fire. She spoke slowly and deliberately: "Qingxia, we are kneeling today, but believe me, one day we will stand up!"

  Outside the window, there was no moon and no stars, just a vast blackness. The slender figure of Rong Fei gradually disappeared into the dark night. Xiao Shi only felt a scorching pain spreading from her wrist, which Rong Fei had just grasped, she tightly pursed her lips and closed her eyes.

  Your road is here, so you can still stand up, but where is my road?

  On the evening of November 17th, in the two hundred and ninety-eighth year of the Southern Chu calendar, the Eastern Palace's Crown Princess, Shangguan Rourou, passed away. The very next day after the Crown Princess' death, a letter was sent back by the governor of the Lingnan region: Former Grand Scholar of the Donghua Pavilion, Shangguan Jing, due to exhaustion from overwork, died on the road.

  At this time, the whole country was in mourning. While the official was busy with the funeral of Crown Princess Shangguan Ruo Xue, the people were secretly holding a funeral for Shangguan Jing. The Shangguan family had been loyal and dedicated to the royal family for generations, but because they opposed the land reform policy, they were brutally slaughtered. To this day, this former first family of Southern Chu was ruthlessly kicked aside like a stumbling block on the road to consolidating imperial power.

  Due to the withdrawal of the Shangguan family, the sphere of influence in the capital began a new round of division and reshuffle. Closely following this was the vacancy left by the death of Shangguan Ruoxue for the position of Crown Princess, which once again sparked intense competition within the Eastern Palace of Nanchu. The winds and clouds slowly surged, and the hot-blooded undercurrents began to churn.