Chapter 71: Empress Rong Returns to the Palace

Receiving the news, Pan Yueyang’s face was alight with joy, while Xueqing stayed close by his side. The two made haste in the direction indicated by the guards.

“General,” the young officer saluted with utmost respect.

“How is it?” Pan Yueyang asked anxiously, glancing around while clutching his chest.

“Someone just injured a soldier. Judging by the technique, it was deliberate, and the assailant’s martial skills are not weak,” the young officer replied, pointing to the wounded soldier.

“I’ll take a look,” Xueqing said, patting Pan Yueyang’s hand before walking over to examine the soldier’s wound.

“Continue searching. Check this area for any tree hollows or caves—any place where someone might hide. Be thorough!” Pan Yueyang, having spent years campaigning on the frontier, was no stranger to danger. He knew that if there were signs of life in the wild, there must be a hiding place—caves or tree hollows could easily sustain someone. In this deep winter, with the trees bare, searching would be all the easier.

Yan’er stared blankly at the mouth of the cave. “Did he really leave?” She had thought Guan Canghai was merely trying to frighten her, but after waiting so long without his return, Yan’er was left bewildered. She stumbled toward the entrance, where the bitter winter wind struck her as soon as she emerged. Yan’er covered her mouth, the cold air biting at her body. She pressed her lips together, seeking some warmth, then, gathering her courage, peered out from the cave in her red cloak.

“Even if you’re not coming back, I still need to gather firewood.” Muttering to herself, Yan’er stepped outside. Somewhere along the way, snow had begun to fall, delicate flakes swirling in the air. She hugged her shoulders against the chill.

“General! There’s someone there!” cried a sharp-eyed soldier, pointing to a moving speck of red on the mountainside.

Pan Yueyang turned to look in the direction the soldier indicated. Sure enough, a tiny red figure was moving, and from the silhouette, it appeared to be a woman. “Let’s go!” He pressed his hand to his chest and, supported by Xueqing, was the first to set out toward that spot of red.

“Ah!” Yan’er clung desperately to a branch at the cave’s edge. Even in winter, the wood was hard as iron, and her frozen hands had long since grown numb; she no longer had the strength to pull at it.

“Yan’er!” The closer Pan Yueyang drew, the more certain he became it was Yan’er. In his excitement, he called out her name.

Yan’er paused in surprise—who was calling her? Hastily, she let go of the branch she’d been struggling with and looked around. Could it be that Yueyang had found her? In the distance, she saw a large group of people approaching and broke into a delighted smile—they’d come for her!

“Yueyang! I’m here!” Yan’er waved with all her might, afraid Pan Yueyang might not see her.

Pan Yueyang quickened his pace, his face dark with concern yet filled with excitement. Silly girl, did she not realize she was half-bare, waving so vigorously for all these men to see?

Yan’er forgot the cold and rushed toward Pan Yueyang. After a few steps, she stopped to catch her breath, then ran on.

“Yueyang!” With a leap, Yan’er threw herself into Pan Yueyang’s arms, nearly knocking the breath out of him.

The blood that had been churning in his chest could no longer be held back. With a cough, he spat out a mouthful of blood.

“Yueyang!” Both Yan’er and Xueqing cried out in alarm.

“It’s nothing,” Pan Yueyang waved them off. He had been suppressing the turmoil in his chest out of worry for Yan’er. Now that she was safe, he could no longer contain it; after coughing up the blood, he actually felt better.

Pan Yueyang unfastened his cloak and wrapped it around Yan’er. “Go inside and see if anyone else is in the cave.” Though he didn’t mention a name, everyone present, Yan’er included, knew he meant Guan Canghai.

“No need, he left long ago,” Yan’er replied with an awkward smile.

Pan Yueyang glanced at Yan’er, then said, “Let’s go back.”

Their group made its way back to the camp in grand procession. Yan’er, Pan Yueyang, and Xueqing boarded a carriage—one Xueqing had specially arranged for Pan Yueyang. Inside, Yan’er sat quietly; Pan Yueyang hesitated a moment, then entered as well, with Xueqing drawing down the curtain behind them. The three sat together in the small, enclosed space.

“Yueyang, are you alright?” Xueqing handed Pan Yueyang a handkerchief, worried he might suffer another internal rupture.

“I’m fine.” Pan Yueyang closed his eyes to compose himself.

“Yan’er, I heard that the Empress has returned to the palace from the Cini Convent. We’ll go directly to the palace. Be extra careful,” Xueqing said, glancing anxiously between Pan Yueyang and Yan’er.

“The Empress?” Yan’er recalled that there was indeed an empress in Panlong, but she had lived in seclusion for many years and rarely appeared.

“Yes, Her Majesty went to the Cini Convent for spiritual cultivation years ago. The last time she returned was six years ago. I don’t know why she’s come back so suddenly this time, but you’d best be cautious,” Xueqing advised, unable to say more.

“Xueqing is right. Empress Rong is a strict woman, impartial and unyielding,” Pan Yueyang added, frowning.

Soon the carriage, accompanied by guards, arrived outside the palace. Yan’er, Pan Yueyang, and Xueqing dismounted and transferred to sedan chairs. The three small sedan chairs moved slowly over the stone paths of the palace. Lifting the curtain, Yan’er peered at the two chairs ahead, her small hands nervously clutching her tattered clothing. Seeing Pan Yueyang and Xueqing’s grave expressions, she realized this Empress Rong was not to be trifled with. She’d had no time to change her clothes or tidy up—who knew what the Empress would think of her?

Ou Ruolan clung to the Empress’s arm. “Mother, you’ve been gone for six years. Didn’t you miss me at all?”

“Mother went to pray for you, my dear, wishing that all your desires may be fulfilled.” The Empress affectionately stroked Ou Ruolan’s hair. When she left the palace, Ruolan had been only twelve; now she was married.

“But you didn’t even come to send me off when I married,” Ou Ruolan pouted, snuggling up to her mother.

“That’s because I knew my daughter would have a grand wedding, nothing for me to worry about. Your father would see to everything,” the Empress said, exchanging a smile with the Emperor.

“But I missed you, Mother. I haven’t been happy,” Ou Ruolan said with a trace of grievance. Suddenly, she recalled the prophecy from the immortal she’d met: perhaps she had misunderstood, and it was not a prediction of chaos but rather of her mother’s sudden return—just as the immortal had said, “The phoenix emerges.” It seemed she had been overthinking things. Ou Ruolan tried to comfort herself.

“What are you thinking, Ruolan? Tell Mother,” the Empress asked, patting her daughter, who was lost in thought.

Just as Ou Ruolan was about to recount her strange encounter, a eunuch entered to announce, “Your Majesty, Your Empress, Princess, General Pan requests an audience outside the hall.”

“Let him in,” the Empress ordered before the Emperor could speak.

The eunuch glanced at the Emperor, and upon receiving his nod, hurried out to deliver the message.

“Your servant pays respect to Your Majesty, Your Empress,” Pan Yueyang said, bowing deeply. Xueqing and Yan’er followed suit, adding a “Princess” to their salute. Pan Yueyang was exempt from bowing to Ou Ruolan, but the other two were not.

“Raise your head.” The Empress had already heard of this woman named Yan’er after her return to court. Seeing the two kneeling women, it was clear to her that the one in tattered red must be Yan’er.

Yan’er lifted her head slowly, meeting the gaze of the three on the dais: the Emperor to the right, Ou Ruolan to the left, and the Empress standing between them. Yan’er’s heart filled with awe. The Empress truly lived up to her reputation; though she had lived in seclusion, her position was undeniable—even the Emperor stood aside, allowing her the central place. Clearly, Xueqing and Yueyang’s warnings had not been in vain.

“Someone, bring a cloak,” the Empress commanded, her smile gracious yet unreadable.

A maid brought over a cloak embroidered with golden peonies. The Empress herself stepped down, draped the cloak over Yan’er’s shoulders, and tied it for her. “It’s bitterly cold; don’t catch a chill,” she said before rising to look at Yan’er.

“Your servant does not dare accept such kindness from Your Majesty,” Yan’er stammered, her eyes fixed on the Empress’s golden embroidered shoes—so vivid, the phoenix upon the toe seemed almost alive.

“Good, you are sensible and well-mannered. Raise your head; I haven’t had a proper look at you yet,” the Empress said, standing firm before Yan’er.

Obliged, Yan’er lifted her dirty little face.

“Heh, silly child. You must have suffered greatly. Look at this face—originally a beauty to captivate nations, now more like a little stray cat,” the Empress said, gently wiping Yan’er’s face with a handkerchief.

Yan’er gasped. “Your Majesty, allow me—lest I soil your hands.”

“It doesn’t matter; I’ve spent enough time outside the palace not to care about such formalities,” the Empress replied, though she handed Yan’er the handkerchief.

Both Pan Yueyang and Xueqing kept their heads bowed, exchanging nervous glances. Neither could guess what the Empress intended.

“Since my return, I have heard many rumors about you,” the Empress continued, her tone suddenly steely. “A woman of extraordinary beauty is bound to invite controversy in this world.”

Yan’er paused, the goodwill she had felt toward the Empress now replaced by anxiety. She didn’t know how the Empress might punish her. Given Ou Ruolan’s cunning and arrogance, it was no stretch to imagine her mother’s severity.

“There is no room for sand in my eye; women are often the harbingers of chaos. You were born with a bewitching appearance. If I keep you here, you may one day bring calamity upon Panlong and its people. You are a curse incarnate!” The Empress’s words struck with force, leaving no room for dissent.

“Your servant acknowledges her fault,” Yan’er said, bowing her head to the floor.

Ou Ruolan’s heart leapt with joy, though her face remained impassive. Hmph, let’s see how you escape this time, Yan’er.

“Yan’er, true to your name, you have enchanted our finest generals and sought secret alliance with the traitors of Tianfeng. You are a witch, unworthy of this court. For the safety of Panlong’s subjects, I sentence you to be branded with the word ‘slave’ upon your cheek, your beauty destroyed, condemned to servitude for life at the frontier. You are never to leave your assigned post, and your exile begins at once!”