Chapter 78 The Phoenix Hairpin
Half an hour later, Yan Xuerui sat up, drawing her jet-black hair to the side of her neck. A kingfisher-feathered, pearl-inlaid gold hairpin had rolled onto the cold floor. Gu Yan bent to retrieve it. Knowing her penchant for cleanliness, he rinsed it in a porcelain bowl before offering it to her.
Her eyes still tinged with red, Yan Xuerui glanced at him. "It's soiled. I don't want it."
Soiled? The hairpin was brand new. Having lived a life of luxury for so long, her standards had unconsciously risen. Gu Yan chuckled softly, tucking the hairpin into his robe. "Mm," he murmured. "I’ll get you a better one in the future."
Gu Yan’s cell was relatively clean, but the pristine white fox fur spread on the floor had gathered a faint dusting of dirt along its edges. Yan Xuerui finished arranging her hair, casting a disdainful look at the fur on the ground, but before she could voice her displeasure—
"Be good."
Without another word, Gu Yan bundled her up from head to toe, leaving only her jade-like face exposed.
"Gu Yan!"
"This humble official knows his offense."
Gu Yan complied smoothly, his slender fingers tying the silk ribbon at her chest, a faint smile playing on his lips. "This humble official has overstepped and offended Your Highness. I will atone for it properly in the future."
"It’s cold outside. Get clean back home, alright?"
When Yan Xuerui had first regained her status, she often referred to herself as "this palace" when addressing Gu Yan, as if to assert her superiority and compel his submission. Now, hearing Gu Yan utter the phrase with amusement, it sounded strangely provocative.
Her tone stiff, she said, "Speak properly."
Gu Yan raised an eyebrow, feigning confusion. "This humble official is dull. Please enlighten me, Princess."
Infuriated, Yan Xuerui kicked at him again. Gu Yan smiled faintly, catching her knee, and bent down to brush the dust from her fur wrap.
"Enough, no more fuss. You should head back soon."
Earlier, they had only embraced briefly, doing nothing more. The timing and place were both inappropriate—Gu Yan was not so desperate as to take things further in such conditions. Yet, in that crude prison cell, a tender warmth passed between them, creating the illusion of a couple weathering hardships together.
Yan Xuerui had arrived with graceful elegance, but now she was bundled into a round, snowball-like figure. She hesitated for a moment. "Gu—"
"I know my limits."
Gu Yan seemed to anticipate her words, replying calmly. His sharp brow bone made him appear sinister and intimidating even with a faint smile.
Still uneasy, Yan Xuerui whispered, "The Emperor is old."
No matter how flawed the emperor was, he was her biological father—he had never wronged her. She knew Gu Yan’s vengeful nature, and she understood he was doing this for her and their son. But if he were to assassinate the emperor, how could she ever face him afterward?
Her father was gravely ill, with only a few days left. Why create more bloodshed?
Gu Yan gave a noncommittal grunt, telling her not to overthink it and to focus on taking care of herself and Zhilu. Yan Xuerui slowly walked out of the cell. The eunuch waiting outside brightened at her appearance and hurried forward.
"Your Highness, did everything go smoothly?"
Yan Xuerui glanced down at him without replying, then gathered her trailing skirts as she boarded the carriage back to her residence.
Though he received no answer, the eunuch noted her appearance upon exiting—her hair disheveled, lips cherry-red, eyes sparkling with a spring-like glow. She had stayed in the cell for a full half-hour!
To die beneath the peony—for a formidable figure like Senior Tutor Gu, it would be no disgrace.
The eunuch quickly calculated, no longer concerned about Princess Changle, and immediately returned to the palace to report.
***
Yan Xuerui returned to her residence and bathed in a perfumed bath. Exhausted from the day, she soon fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. Early the next morning, the palace sent someone to summon her. Since Gu Yan hadn’t died, the emperor was sure to question her.
The typically obedient and delicate Princess Changle defied the imperial decree for the first time, claiming illness and refusing to leave her residence. The palace sent messengers three times, but Yan Xuerui remained in her warm room, half-dressed as she nursed Zhilu.
Her father must be furious by now.
A sense of melancholy washed over her. When she discovered her true identity and went to acknowledge the emperor as her father, it wasn’t solely for the princess title. The Yan family had never stinted on her needs, but she was sensitive—the favoritism her parents showed Xue Fang and the disparity between the two sisters had once made her resentful and heartbroken.
She, too, had yearned for a biological father’s love.
Suddenly, a sharp, tingling pain shot through her chest. Yan Xuerui winced and looked down. Zhilu, unable to draw milk, looked up at her with tearful, dark eyes. His plump, lotus-root arms clung to his mother, full of grievance.
Seeing his mother’s attention on him, Zhilu’s lips quivered, and he let out a loud, wailing cry. The commotion instantly shattered Yan Xuerui’s sentimental musings.
"My darling, it’s not that I won’t give it to you—Mother truly has none left."
"Don’t cry."
Ming Lan and Ming Wei had been well-behaved and easy to care for as children. She was young when she gave birth to them, and both were small and delicate, making them relatively easy to raise. Zhilu, however, was born weighing eight pounds and six ounces—fair, plump, and robust. He had a domineering temperament and would cry at the slightest dissatisfaction, all thunder and no rain, exhausting all six of his wet nurses.
He was slightly more restrained in his mother’s arms, but even so, Yan Xuerui had to struggle to soothe him for a while. She doted on him, and these days, he had grown accustomed to her milk, refusing to drink from wet nurses. Usually, Yan Xuerui drank lactation soups frequently, often having leftover milk after feeding him. But after her encounter with Gu Yan the previous day, he’d drunk his fill, leaving Zhilu wanting.
"It’s all your father’s fault. You can fuss with him later—no more crying."
Holding the heavy Zhilu, Yan Xuerui pinched his plump, fair cheeks. The emptiness in her heart felt thoroughly filled.
So be it. In life, not everything can go as one wishes. Though her bonds with her parents were thin, she had such adorable children. Remembering what Gu Yan had said about "grandchildren," Yan Xuerui felt both shock and anger, as if she were dreaming.
Without any formal betrothal or marriage, how could they already have grandchildren?
Of course, Gu Yan couldn’t tell her the truth. In his eyes, A Yina and Ming Lan were sufficiently in love with each other, and he simply said that Western Rong women didn’t care about such formalities. Once A Yina gave birth, she would return to the capital with Ming Lan.
Gu Yan had chosen his timing well. With a chubby, crying boy to care for, her thoughts occupied by Ming Lan and his wife, and worries about Ming Wei at Egret Manor Academy, Yan Xuerui—who should have been anxious—lived an orderly life in her princess residence.
Gu Yan had left people behind for her—a team of female guards, all nimble and highly skilled. She tasked them with monitoring outside news. Two days later, pressured by his officials and Western Rong, the emperor released Gu Yan.
After Gu Yan left the prison, no one from the palace came to summon Princess Changle again.
Yan Xuerui had expected him to visit her residence, but after two days of waiting, there was no sign of him. The only things that arrived were several cartloads of charcoal and a fine ebony box delivered to the gatekeeper. She opened it gently. Inside, a pristine white satin cushion showcased a dazzling filigree phoenix hairpin inlaid with gems.
The phoenix’s body was woven from extremely fine gold wires, its wings lifelike and spread proudly. The phoenix’s eyes were set with two pigeon-blood rubies, red as weeping blood; its beak held a large, luminous pearl that shimmered brilliantly. The entire hairpin looked extraordinarily luxurious, glimmering with fragmented light.
Bi He stared in awe. Yan Xuerui snapped the lid shut, her heart racing uncontrollably.
"Your Highness, this phoenix hairpin is so beautiful."
Bi He marveled, but having spent time in the palace, she suddenly realized something was amiss. Cautiously, she said, "Your Highness, isn’t this… exceeding regulations?"
While all female members of the imperial family could use phoenix motifs, the hierarchy was strict. The empress dowager used a soaring phoenix with a golden frame, freely adorned with pearls and gems, its head held high. The empress used a phoenix facing the sun paired with peonies, with bright yellow tassels hanging from its beak. Imperial consorts and lower-ranking concubines used phoenixes amidst peonies or twin phoenixes playing with lotuses. Princesses had even more distinct designs.
Unmarried princesses used young phoenixes with fluffy wings, conveying innocence and charm. Married princesses could only use half-spread phoenix motifs, with the color and size of kingfisher feathers and gems not exceeding those of their elders. The imperial family was a place where rules were paramount, and hierarchy was not to be transgressed.
Bi He thought to herself that this phoenix hairpin was even more luxurious than the one Empress Xu wore in her hair. For Her Highness the Princess to wear it… wouldn’t it be inappropriate?
Yan Xuerui closed her eyes and locked the ebony box away in a hidden compartment of her bed. She ordered Bi He to forget everything she had just seen.
"Don’t think about it, don’t ask, don’t speak of it. Bi He, you should go feed the birds."
Yan Xuerui lowered her gaze, masking her complicated expression. The canary had been left to roam freely in the courtyard, with Bi He regularly providing water and millet. After some time, perhaps due to its natural instincts, it began gliding low, dragging its long, elegant tail behind.
Bi He hurriedly reported this to Yan Xuerui, who replied that there was no need to interfere—if it wished to fly away, it could; if it preferred to stay in the courtyard, it should not be driven out, and food should still be provided on time. Because Yan Xuerui was a light sleeper, Bi He had grown utterly annoyed by the chattering canary. She had watched it fly over the high wall multiple times, and now winter had arrived.
Outside, the world was frozen, with icy winds, snow, and frost. The princess's residence had been hastily renovated, and there had been no time to install heated floors. Instead, charcoal braziers were placed in the rooms and main halls, keeping the interiors warm and cozy. Eventually, the canary built a nest under the eaves and stopped venturing into the courtyard altogether. By winter, its feathers had grown glossy and sleek, and it had made the princess's residence its permanent home.
Whenever Zhilu cried out, the canary would join in, its clear, loud cries mixing with the child's piercing wails. That winter, the princess's residence felt anything but lonely.
***
For others in the capital, however, the winter was long and harsh.
First, the emperor suddenly targeted Senior Tutor Gu, while the crown prince's stance remained ambiguous and wavering. Then, a state letter arrived from Western Rong, and General Gu "miraculously reappeared," resuming command of the northwest Black Armor Army. Once again, Senior Tutor Gu emerged unscathed and was reinstated to his official position.
This time, however, it became clear to everyone that Gu Yan and the emperor were locked in a fierce struggle. But... no matter how powerful a minister might be, could he truly defy the emperor? Was Gu Yan planning a rebellion?
Even with Gu Yuan in control of the military, the northwest was thousands of miles from the capital—distant water can't put out a fire close at hand.
While the court trembled in fear and silence, the emperor suffered a stroke and fell ill, leaving the crown prince to oversee state affairs. Gu Yan continued his routine of lecturing the crown prince at the Eastern Palace. To share the burden of the heir apparent, all court matters were first submitted to Senior Tutor Gu for review and approval before being presented to the crown prince.
In reality, by the time matters reached Gu Yan, decisions had already been made. The crown prince's faction in the court had always been Gu Yan's supporters, long accustomed to his decisive and straightforward style. His vermillion comments were brief and to the point. They cooperated seamlessly, and important policies were often implemented by the Six Ministries even before the crown prince was notified. The emperor had entrusted the crown prince with overseeing the state, but the crown prince was incompetent, and it seemed Gu Yan was gradually sidelining him.
There were still loyal ministers in the court who loved their country. To them, Gu Yan's behavior was no different from that of a treacherous official usurping state power.
A censor once impeached Gu Yan in court, accusing him of overstepping his authority, disrespecting the emperor's authority, and demanding that Senior Tutor Gu return power to the crown prince. Scholars condemned him with their writings and speeches. Even the emperor had once yielded to pressure and released Gu Yan, but Gu Yan was different.
He was a man who focused only on the present, unconcerned with his legacy.
Facing these accusations, Senior Tutor Gu remained unflinching and calmly stated, "Making a scene in the throne hall, defying superiors, and disrupting court order."
"Behead them."
Dozens were executed in succession. Several heavy snowfalls could not conceal the bloodshed at the execution grounds. Eventually, all opposition in the court fell silent. The capital was gripped by fear, but under Gu Yan's iron-fisted rule, no one dared to speak out. Life in the outer provinces and among the common people continued as before—tributes were paid, taxes were collected. Those well-informed knew that Senior Tutor Gu now held power in the capital and that a major change was likely imminent.
Those in remote, isolated areas only knew that the emperor was seriously ill and the crown prince was overseeing state affairs. They believed the crown prince's ascension was imminent and came from far away to submit congratulatory memorials, celebrating the birth of the crown prince's son.
The crown prince's legitimate son, born to the crown princess, was personally named "Zhou Xuanyu" by the emperor. His hundred days celebration was approaching.
...
Before this congratulatory memorial reached the crown prince, it first passed through Gu Yan's hands. He tossed it onto his desk, narrowed his long, narrow, upturned eyes, and spoke in a tone that gave nothing away.
"The Eastern Palace has something to celebrate."
This was Gu Yan's study. In previous years, because Madam Yan feared the cold, the entire residence would have heated floors lit by early winter, warming even the corridors outside. This year, Yan Xuerui was not there. Only the women in the rear quarters had heated floors. Gu Yan, trained in martial arts, was unafraid of the cold.
The room was cold as ice. In this space where one's breath turned to frost with every word, his subordinates exchanged looks, cold sweat breaking out simultaneously on their foreheads.