Spring Remains the Same - Chapter 1

In the spring of the first year of the Xian’an era, an astronomical anomaly appeared in the heavens.

The Grand Astrologer’s Office reported overnight that the Ziwei Star had dimmed—a sign of a baleful star encroaching upon the imperial palace, demanding the removal of treacherous villains to restore the righteous path.

At the third quarter-hour past midnight, the Chengtian Gate opened from within. A heavy, rumbling sound shattered the silence of the deep night. Once the gate was open, several thousand Imperial Guards galloped out, their urgent hoofbeats seeming to tear across the sky.

At the same time, the estate of Grand Princess Puyang was ablaze with light.

In the main hall, Grand Princess Xiao Hong sat upright. In the spacious courtyard before her, eight hundred soldiers clad in armor and holding steel sabers were assembled, bowed and awaiting orders. These were her personal troops, whom she alone could command. No other person, not even the Son of Heaven, could move them.

Inside the hall, the officials of the Grand Princess’s household were seated on both sides. The hall was filled with worthy scholars and fine generals, yet not a single person spoke. The silence was deathly.

Puyang rose and walked to the edge of the eaves. Behind her, everyone else rose and followed in an orderly fashion. The soldiers in the courtyard fixed their gazes on her, their faces flushed red in the firelight, each man radiating a martial spirit. The commanding colonel stepped forward, knelt with his saber in hand, and declared in a loud voice, “The sovereign is unrighteous! He listens to slander and intends to slaughter his own kin…”

He denounced the emperor with righteous indignation, and every soldier’s face showed fury. Puyang tilted her head back, gazing at the night sky, which was like spilled ink, without a single glimmer of light. She didn’t know when it had happened, but not a single star could be seen. From this day forward, all she would possess was this lightless darkness.

Behind her, one of her retainers—she knew not which—suddenly dropped to his knees. The dull thud of his kneecaps hitting the flagstones echoed as he proclaimed passionately, “Your Highness! It is not that Your Highness is disloyal, but that the sovereign is cruel! Things have come to this; there is no other path!”

The soldiers, encouraged, began to shout in unison, their voices shaking the heavens.

Only the Chief Scribe stood to the side, his face filled with a sorrow and reluctance that was utterly out of place with the fervent atmosphere. When Puyang looked over at him, his eyes were filled with tears. He gave a deep bow, his hands reaching the ground, and then, taking advantage of the moment when no one was watching, slipped away into the darkness.

The city, both inside and out, was already on high alert. The nine gates of the capital had been taken over by the Imperial Guard and were heavily fortified. She had eight hundred armored soldiers, but it was no different from throwing an egg against a rock. Since it was so, why should she allow herself to be reduced to such a sorry state?

Puyang raised a hand, signaling for the crowd to be quiet. She looked up at the sky, sighed deeply, and said, “Disperse.”

“Your Highness!” The crowd was incredulous. The commanding colonel, his eyes bloodshot, rushed forward and knelt at Puyang’s feet, about to plead further, but Puyang helped him up.

“Take them and flee for your lives.”

The courtyard fell silent, sinking into the stillness of the night, a stillness that sent a chill through one’s entire body.

The eight hundred men left, and the many unfailingly loyal retainers left as well. The space before her was now empty, like a sudden shift from bustling prosperity to cold desolation, leaving one’s heart hollow.

Puyang sat in the hall. She saw the sky outside her estate reflect a fiery glow, followed by the sharp clang of armor. She waited, her expression impassive. A moment later, the urgent, synchronized sound of footsteps rang out as Imperial Guards burst through the gate and rushed into the courtyard.

Seeing the Grand Princess sitting serenely in the hall, the Imperial Guards stopped in their tracks, stunned. Her long-established authority remained; even as a prisoner, no one dared to be insolent in her presence.

The men looked at each other, their feet seemingly glued to the ground, not daring to move. Looking again at the hall, they felt as pathetic as posturing clowns. The leader was a Central Secretariat Drafter newly promoted by the Emperor. He grew furious at his own cowardice, mustered his courage, took a step forward, and shouted, “His Majesty has issued an edict! How dare Your Highness not kneel to receive it?”

Puyang lifted her gaze to him. Even in this predicament, her eyes were still brilliantly sharp. The Central Secretariat Drafter was stung by her look and nearly lost all the courage he had just managed to summon.

But Puyang merely smiled faintly. “I am of high rank, you are of low. When you see me, how dare you not bow?”

The Central Secretariat Drafter’s fair face flushed crimson. He felt like a petty man who had just come into power, his splendid appearance stripped bare under the Grand Princess’s gaze.

Puyang couldn’t be bothered to waste words on such insignificant characters. She remained seated, looking at the group as if they were ants, and said coldly, “Speak. What message did the Emperor have you bring?”

The color drained from the Central Secretariat Drafter’s face again. His Majesty had indeed given him a message to deliver, but not for him to say at this moment. It was to be announced in front of everyone after the Grand Princess had been executed, to display the sovereign’s magnanimity.

His face grim, he hesitated for a moment before saying, “To meet family with blades is not His Majesty’s true wish. However, the Grand Princess has brought chaos to the court, and she must be executed to set things right. After Your Highness has passed, your title will not be revoked, and you will still be interred in the imperial mausoleum.”

It seemed, then, to be an extraordinary favor. Puyang laughed with anger. The Emperor had been on the throne for less than a year, and having just secured his position, he dared to move against her, his own paternal aunt. To outsiders, it must seem he had great courage indeed.

But Puyang knew that this nephew of hers had been cautious and timid his entire life. Even if he had such intentions, he would never have acted so decisively without someone instigating it. Who could it be? A slender figure in a wheelchair emerged in Puyang’s mind.

Could it be him?

The Central Secretariat Drafter was growing impatient. The place made his bl00d run cold, and he dared not linger, fearing that any more words would lead to complications. He hastily unrolled the imperial edict, read it aloud, and then ordered someone to present a cup of poisoned wine.

Puyang took the wine cup, her hand perfectly steady. The clear liquid in the cup reflected her face—still dignified and unyielding, yet already on the brink of her end. Nectar and ambrosia had become a life-stealing poison. Once this cup was drunk, the person known as Grand Princess Puyang would no longer exist in this world.

She had not thought it through completely. If she had been given just one more day, she would have struck first. Had there been even a sliver of a chance, she would never have suffered such humiliation from these petty men here. Even having reached this point, she had not resigned herself to her fate. The Chief Scribe had already departed for the lands of Zhao with a letter in her own hand. When Second Brother received her letter, he would surely rebel. And once he rebelled, how could Third Brother be willing to fall behind? Those imperial clansmen, in the prime of their lives and power, had long harbored ambitions. Now, learning that the Emperor was executing his own kin, how could they remain indifferent, feeling the sorrow of the fox for the death of the hare?

A smile touched the corners of Puyang’s lips. She looked up at the Central Secretariat Drafter and said, “Tell Xiao Dewen that I will be watching from the heavens to see him die without a burial place.” She had been defeated, but Xiao Dewen’s triumph would be short-lived!

The Central Secretariat Drafter’s face turned deathly pale, his lips trembling as if he were the one trapped in a fatal predicament, not the Grand Princess. The others in the courtyard bowed their heads low, wishing they had heard nothing at all.

Puyang gave a scornful smile, raised the cup with both hands, and drank it all in one go.

“No!” A desperate, hoarse cry.

The figure in the wheelchair appeared at the far end of the courtyard.

The golden wine cup slipped from her hand, clattering against the floor with a sharp clang. A searing pain twisted in her abdomen, as if her insides were being torn to shreds. Puyang clutched her stomach, her vision blurring. She saw the man shouting to those around him, “Save her! I have an edict, quickly, save her!” He frantically wheeled his chair, heading straight toward her.

The pain in her abdomen intensified. The metallic taste of bl00d filled her mouth, and it began to trickle from the corners of her lips.

He drew near, his gaze filled with shock and pain as he looked at her. He was still clutching the edict in his hand, muttering to himself, “I was too late…”

Puyang collapsed to the ground. Her eyes remained open as her consciousness faded away, bit by bit, like her body’s ebbing warmth.

Wei Xiu was looking down at her, his usually impassive eyes now filled with a dark, heavy rage.

Puyang wanted to speak, but lacked even the strength to open her mouth. So, the one who wanted her dead was not him. It was not him after all.