Entering the palace at forty-seven.

Yan’er gave a self-mocking smile. Just days ago, she had been racking her brains over how to celebrate Pan Yueyang’s birthday, and when she finally decided to let go, fate played another trick on her, forcing her to prepare a gift for him after all.

“But, Feng He, I am with child now. It’s not suitable for me to perform at court,” Yan’er said, though she disliked using her pregnancy as an excuse.

“That won’t do, madam,” Feng He replied, her eyes firm as she looked at Yan’er. Even with a child on the way, she must perform. The emperor was obviously elevating the princess; if Yan’er used her pregnancy to avoid the grand banquet, it would only invite more trouble.

“All right.” Yan’er nodded with difficulty. It seemed that, no matter what, she would have to make a spectacle of herself.

“Is there anything you need me to prepare for you, madam?” Feng He felt much relieved when Yan’er finally agreed.

“Nothing for now. I haven’t decided yet. I’ll let you know when I do.” With that, Yan’er prepared to lie down and rest.

“Madam… the general’s birthday is in three days…” Feng He gently reminded her. She suspected Yan’er still thought she had plenty of time to prepare.

Sure enough, Yan’er froze as she was about to lie down. “Three days?”

Feng He nodded quickly, confirming that it was indeed three days away.

Yan’er tilted her head, pondering. “Perhaps I’ll just dance. I loved dancing at home, and it’s the one thing I’m reasonably good at.”

“Very well!” Feng He considered for a moment and then asked, “But madam, what kind of dance costume do you wish for? I’ll prepare it right away. And what music will you use? The musicians in the city are all waiting for your summons.” She was not exaggerating.

“What? The musicians are waiting for me?” Yan’er was a little bewildered.

“Yes, the entire royal city knows that both you and Lady Pin’er are to perform before the emperor. The princesses have the royal musicians at their disposal, but we must make our own arrangements. So all the musicians in the city are waiting for your call,” Feng He explained.

“Oh, and Pin’er…” Yan’er recalled the ever-ethereal Pin’er, always dressed in white.

“Lady Pin’er said she doesn’t need any musicians,” Feng He replied, looking earnestly at Yan’er.

“I don’t need them either. Just prepare a flute for me—no, never mind, get the musicians.” Watching Yan’er vacillate, Feng He’s expression grew increasingly troubled. “Feng He, what’s the matter?”

“Madam, you really must prepare seriously,” Feng He exhorted her earnestly. The madam couldn’t even decide what music or accompaniment to use—how could she perform at court?

“Just prepare the costume,” Yan’er said, unwilling to say more.

“But madam, you haven’t told me what style you want,” Feng He insisted, face twisted in worry.

“Do as you like. Choose what you think best. I’m tired,” Yan’er replied, turning her back and lying down.

…

Three days later

Feng He beamed as she looked at the basket containing the dance costume she had sewn for Yan’er. Having served the madam for so long, she knew that bright colors suited her best, so she chose a rose-pink fabric and even consulted the household’s most skilled embroideress, Hua Bi, to embellish it.

Feng He shook out the costume: a flowing rose-pink dress embroidered with budding plum blossoms in gold and matching pink thread—delicate and elegant, yet highlighting the vibrancy of the material. The sleeves were made of sheer gauze, and Feng He imagined her mistress in this dress, dancing before the court, outshining all others.

“Madam, please try on the costume I made for you,” Feng He said merrily as Yan’er rose from her bed, hurrying over with the dress in her arms.

“Just set it there,” Yan’er said, not sparing the costume a glance.

“Madam, you’re entering the palace for the banquet tonight. It’s best to try it on first,” Feng He persisted.

“I haven’t even decided on a dance—what’s the point of trying it on?” Yan’er said dismissively, tossing the costume aside.

Feng He looked at her with concern. “Madam…”

“That’s enough, Feng He. Don’t say any more. I have my own plans.” Yan’er clung to a desperate resolve: if she did not perform before the court, she would surely incur the emperor’s wrath. If she showed such disrespect to the princess’s household, she would likely be sentenced to death. This, to her, was the swiftest end.

Feng He grew anxious. Yan’er had neither called for musicians nor rehearsed a dance, yet the time to enter the palace was fast approaching, and she had just now awoken from sleep. This time, things did not bode well.

“Lady Yan’er.” Outside, Dan Yunjie, the steward, requested an audience.

“Madam, it’s the steward.”

“Let him in,” Yan’er said, sitting before her bronze mirror, thinking that at last she could leave behind this world that had brought her nothing but pain. To die on Pan Yueyang’s birthday—surely every birthday after would bring him sorrow.

“Madam, the sedan chair is ready. The general and Lady Pin’er are both waiting for you outside the residence.” Dan Yunjie was genuinely worried for her—imagine making the general wait. Yet the general was truly considerate of her; knowing she was resting, he forbade the maids from waking her.

“So soon?” Yan’er said, slowly arranging her hair.

“We’ll be ready at once, Steward,” Feng He replied, quickly washing and dressing Yan’er. Dan Yunjie, relieved, withdrew.

Feng He thought, regardless of whether Yan’er performed or not, she must at least look the part. She loosened Yan’er’s hair completely. Since she had made the dress, she had already decided on the hair ornaments: she let Yan’er’s hair cascade down her back, pinning a simple, smooth bun at the crown. Suddenly, a sparkling object appeared in Feng He’s hand.

The glint of red caught Yan’er’s eye. “What is that?”

“The general gave this to you the other day when I went to report to him,” Feng He replied, opening her palm.

It was a large, teardrop-shaped ruby, fixed with a pale pink ribbon, utterly unadorned apart from the stone itself, which stood out like a single, perfect teardrop. It swung gently from the ribbon, captivating and lovely.

Yan’er touched the ruby. “Put it on.” The gem nestled right at her forehead; whenever she moved, it swung and sparkled, reflecting a dazzling light in the bronze mirror.

Feng He dressed Yan’er in the rose-pink gown. The color set off her fair and delicate face, making her look like a frail little blossom.

“Madam, you are truly beautiful,” Feng He couldn’t help but exclaim.

“Let’s go,” Yan’er said, not wanting to make Dan Yunjie wait any longer.

The two women made their way to the courtyard, where Pan Yueyang and Pin’er had been waiting for some time. Pan Yueyang wore a dark red robe, while Pin’er was, as always, in white, though today adorned with tiny pearls—her hair dotted with them, understated and elegant.

As Yan’er approached, radiant as a fairy among flowers, Pan Yueyang’s eyes shone with admiration. The three exchanged few words and went straight to the carriage.

“Yan’er, what will you perform before the court tonight? I heard you haven’t summoned any musicians,” Pan Yueyang asked, once again taking in her attire. Since meeting Yan’er, he’d never seen her display any talent—he truly wished to see her dance for him.

“Isn’t Sister Pin’er also not using musicians?” Yan’er replied with a smile toward Pin’er.

“Pin’er has played the zither since childhood—she needs no musicians. She is the finest musician herself.” Pan Yueyang sat between the two women, one in white, one in red, both complementing each other.

“I have prepared nothing,” Yan’er said, looking at them both with a self-mocking smile.

Pan Yueyang clenched his fist, taking a deep breath. “Don’t expect me to save you. This is a capital offense.”

Pin’er lowered her head and smiled faintly. She had long foreseen that Yan’er would make no preparations at all. For someone seeking death, today was the perfect opportunity.

Yan’er said nothing. The three rode in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Upon arriving at the palace, the trio was led by a young eunuch to the Hall of Celebration, a resplendent palace set aside for banquets. Many officials had already arrived. Seeing Pan Yueyang with his two concubines, envy flashed in their eyes. After a round of polite greetings, the three were seated at a table closest to the emperor.

When most of the guests had arrived, Chief Eunuch Gao went cheerfully to the rear hall to invite the Emperor Jing.

As soon as the emperor entered, everyone bowed deeply. “Long life to Your Majesty.”

“Rise,” Emperor Jing replied with a broad smile. “Tonight, I host this feast for General Pan’s birthday. There is no need for excessive ceremony.”

Even so, no one sat until the emperor himself had taken his seat.

At that moment, music began to play, and dancing girls glided in from the doors. Maids started serving dishes one by one. It was Yan’er’s first time in the palace, and she was captivated by the lavish scene. Each dancer was exceptionally beautiful, their costumes identical. Sometimes they formed a straight line, at other times they gathered into a cluster like a blooming flower—indescribably lovely.

Pan Yueyang picked up his chopsticks, placing generous helpings onto Yan’er’s plate. “I heard you’ve been sleeping a lot lately and probably haven’t eaten much.”

Yan’er looked at the pile of food that had grown into a little mountain. Since she was likely to meet her end tonight, she might as well not die hungry. She picked up her chopsticks and began tasting the delicacies Pan Yueyang had chosen for her.

Pin’er sat to Pan Yueyang’s left, sipping her wine quietly.

“Haha, you all know that General Pan is soon to join the royal family,” Emperor Jing said, his mood bright as he watched the lively banquet.

“Congratulations, Your Majesty! Congratulations, General Pan!” The ministers began to offer their wishes.

“Today also happens to be General Pan’s birthday. I’ve specially had someone fetch Old General Pan—he should be arriving soon.”

Everyone noticed the empty seat to the emperor’s right, clearly reserved for Old General Pan. The Pan family was about to reach new heights—His Majesty truly favored General Pan.

As he spoke, a eunuch announced that Old General Pan had arrived at the palace.

Pan Yueyang rose to greet his father. Yan’er was curious about what Pan Yueyang’s father would be like. From Mu Bai’s description, she imagined a stern and harsh man.

“Your Majesty! This old official is late!” came a booming voice from outside. Yan’er looked up and saw an elderly man with graying temples, clad in battle armor, his beard covering most of his face but his eyes shining brightly—a man clearly still strong and vigorous.

“Rise, Old General Pan, come and take your seat,” Emperor Jing said joyfully, looking at Pan Zhongtian.

“Your son greets his father,” Pan Yueyang said, kneeling on the carpet as soon as Pan Zhongtian sat down.

“My son, quickly, rise,” Pan Zhongtian replied, full of admiration for his child.

Pin’er, seeing Pan Yueyang rise, smiled and took Yan’er’s hand. “Daughter-in-law pays her respects to Old General Pan,” she said, kneeling on the carpet.

Yan’er was grateful to Pin’er. If Pin’er hadn’t guided her, she wouldn’t have known what to do, so she knelt as well, waiting in silence for permission to rise.

“Father, these are my concubines,” Pan Yueyang said, seeing his father deliberately making things difficult for the two women and quickly stepping in.

“You! Raise your head!” Pan Zhongtian commanded, pointing at Yan’er.