He knew that speaking so openly would be a blow to the dignity of a ruler, but he had to clarify things. Otherwise, the thorn in his heart would inevitably lead to a growing distance between him and Yue'er. In matters of the heart, he didn’t want to be someone plagued by constant suspicion and doubt.
Lan Xiaolou gave a sorrowful smile, one that seemed genuine. "Your Majesty, every word I’ve said about my beloved being no longer of this world is true. If I’m lying, may I never find love in this life or the next, live in poverty, and meet a wretched end."
When the Empress had sent him the letter, he already knew that his Second Lady Jiang was no longer there. The soul residing in her body now belonged to someone else.
His Second Lady, on the surface, was like a porcupine, quick to prick anyone who came too close. If anyone touched her wounds, she would bare her thorns, leaving them bloodied, even if it meant she herself was left scarred.
Yet, deep down, she was softer and kinder than anyone. After every act of defiance, she would weep with guilt. She couldn’t stand to see the weak bullied and always put on a strong front to protect those she cared about.
The Empress was the Emperor’s Yue'er, but she was no longer his Second Lady.
That was why he dared to swear such an oath.
Opera performers, especially esteemed ones like Lan Xiaolou, were deeply superstitious. Before every performance, they would light incense and kneel before the gods, praying for a smooth show free of mishaps.
So, if he dared to swear such an oath, it meant he had a clear conscience.
The Emperor’s hostility faded, and he smiled. "I feel as though Lan Xiaolou and I have become fast friends, and our conversation has made me lose track of time."
He raised his head slightly. "Tang Shiliang, reward the Rongsheng Opera Troupe with a thousand taels of silver and present Lan Xiaolou with the title of 'The Greatest Voice Under Heaven.' Escort them out of the palace."
Tang Shiliang bowed. "As Your Majesty commands."
After Lan Xiaolou left, the smile on the Emperor’s face vanished, and his once tender peach-blossom eyes turned icy cold. "Wang Dequan, has Leader Du sent any word back yet?"
It had only been a night—how could there be news so soon?
But Wang Dequan only dared to grumble in his heart. Out loud, he replied, "Your Majesty, Cang County is still beneath Yunyang County. Even by carriage, it would take six hours. Leader Du, no matter how fast he is, would have just arrived in Cang County by now."
Add to that the time needed to investigate whether Lan Xiaolou’s claims were true, and the return journey, it would take at least another day or night.
A carrier pigeon might be faster, but not by much, and there was always the risk of the bird being shot down mid-flight.
The Emperor’s concern was clouding his judgment.
If Leader Du’s report confirmed that Lan Xiaolou indeed had a wife who had passed away, the rewards bestowed upon the Rongsheng Opera Troupe would elevate them to the pinnacle of the opera world.
But if the report revealed that Lan Xiaolou had lied, those very rewards could become the harbinger of his doom.
"What is the Empress doing now?"
"Her Majesty’s maid, Shuang Jiang, came by earlier to ask when Lan Xiaolou would be leaving the palace. The Empress wishes to see him off."
The Emperor’s heart, which had been in suspense, finally settled.
If Yue'er had acted too coldly or indifferently, he would have suspected that there were still lingering feelings between the two.
"Your Majesty…"
A glint of cunning flashed in Wang Dequan’s shrewd eyes. "Shall I send someone to keep an eye on them?"
*Thud!*
A memorial was hurled at him. "What kind of person would that make me?"
"This servant deserves death. I should not have presumed to guess Your Majesty’s intentions."
The force of the thrown memorial wasn’t particularly strong. If the Emperor had been truly angry, it would have been Wang Dequan’s head that was struck.
After leaving the imperial study, Wang Dequan let out a sigh of relief. By showing his loyalty to the Emperor, he had ensured that His Majesty wouldn’t suspect him of colluding with the Empress.
As for sending someone to watch Lan Xiaolou and the Empress, it was merely a suggestion.
The Emperor was an exceedingly proud man, and with good reason. Eavesdropping on others? He would never stoop to such a thing.
On the path leading out of the palace, Jiang Xinyue’s palanquin had been waiting for some time.
Tang Shiliang led the Rongsheng Opera Troupe forward to pay their respects to the Empress, then quickly ushered the rest of the troupe away, leaving only Jiang Xinyue and her attendants, Xi Que and Jiang Chuan.
Their eyes met, but there was no love, longing, or joy in Jiang Xinyue’s gaze—nor was there disappointment, pain, or sorrow.
She simply smiled, breathtakingly beautiful, but her eyes were so unfamiliar that Lan Xiaolou barely recognized her.
"She…"
He opened his mouth, wanting to ask where the original Jiang Xinyue had gone.
But after uttering just one word, he found himself at a loss for how to continue.
"Her soul is free now."
Lan Xiaolou was stunned for a moment, then his perpetually sorrowful eyes filled with a sense of relief.
He laughed heartily, turned, and walked away.
Xi Que glanced at her mistress, then at Jiang Chuan, and finally at Lan Xiaolou’s retreating figure. "What… what just happened? Your Majesty, what did you mean by 'her soul is free'? I know every word you said, but I can’t make sense of it. Why did Lan Xiaolou laugh like that?"
"It’s nothing," Jiang Xinyue replied, waving her hand as the palanquin began to move. She patted Xi Que’s head. "When talking to people in the arts, it’s best to be ambiguous. Don’t spell things out too clearly—let them draw their own conclusions."
What she had meant by "her soul is free" was that the original Jiang Xinyue had died. But Lan Xiaolou had interpreted it as the true Jiang Xinyue having gone to a place of her choosing, living the life she wanted, perhaps even reincarnated into another form, embarking on a new, free existence.
Jiang Xinyue certainly wasn’t going to tell him that the original had died. Who knew if he might suddenly go mad, accusing her of having killed the original, stolen her body, and then cozying up to the Emperor?
Only by letting him believe that she had taken over the body unwillingly, and that the original was still alive somewhere in the world, could she ensure that he would leave the palace peacefully and not cause trouble for her.
Self-preservation was a natural instinct. All she wanted was to live safely in the depths of the palace.
The Emperor stood atop the city wall, overlooking the scene below. Though he couldn’t hear their conversation, he heard Lan Xiaolou’s hearty laughter.
What had they said that was so amusing?
What pleased him was that Jiang Xinyue had exchanged no more than a few words with Lan Xiaolou, and they had maintained a considerable distance, with servants attending to them. There was no chance for them to share any intimate words.
Wang Dequan, who had been so sure that the Emperor wouldn’t eavesdrop, scratched his forehead, wondering if he was getting too old to keep up with His Majesty’s whims.
When had the Emperor become so contradictory?
Back in Kunning Palace, Shuang Jiang was waiting at the entrance. "Your Majesty, the Emperor is here. He’s in the side chamber, teaching the Crown Prince his characters."
Jiang Xinyue nodded, went to her room to change into a fresh set of clothes, and was just putting on her outer robe when a warm embrace enveloped her from behind.
"Yue'er, let me hold you."
