Chapter Fifteen: Thus It Is Decided

“What did you say?” Emperor Guangde took a long moment to process Night Qianling’s question. Master? As the emperor’s daughter, a princess of the Night Dynasty, how could she utter such words, asking who her master was? Small wonder he’d been momentarily struck dumb.

“Child,” Emperor Guangde gazed at the blood seeping through Night Qianling’s clothes, his heart aching as he walked to her side, intending to help her up. But the instant he touched her arm, a burning heat hit him; instinctively, his eyes shifted to her face, which was beaded with cold sweat, her lips tinged blue, her eyes growing unfocused. “Do you want to die? Ramming your wound against the wall on purpose—are you so eager for death?”

His earlier angry shove hadn’t revealed it, but now, up close, he saw that Night Qianling had deliberately let her chest take the brunt of the impact, letting the wound tear open again, blood soaking her clothes. Deeply distressed, Emperor Guangde forced himself to repress the violence boiling within. He took a deep breath. “Didn’t I warn you long ago—if you ever said such things, did such things, what would happen?”

During her recent surgery, Night Qiange had temporarily suppressed her fever with medicine, but reopening the wound had led to reinfection and a raging fever. Emperor Guangde had wanted to summon Hu Guangshen to take a look, but out of consideration for Night Qianling’s pride, he decided to lecture her first.

Emperor Guangde, Night Xicheng, had always been harsh with everyone. Ordinarily, he indulged Night Qianling because she was well-behaved, obedient, his daughter, and fond of acting spoiled. But under these circumstances, he tolerated no such nonsense. If he hadn’t restrained himself out of sheer reluctance, he might have destroyed her outright.

He was a battle-hardened god of war, well acquainted with wounds. In his view, anything short of mortal danger was trivial. When he’d first heard the news, he’d nearly crippled Night Qianling in a rage, but luckily, he’d recovered his reason and refrained from doing anything he’d regret for life.

Night Qianling was so feverish she could barely stay upright, using all her strength just to keep from collapsing. She hadn’t even heard what the emperor asked, so he repeated, “Tell me—what happens if you say you want to die?” His hand gripped her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze through the pain.

“Slap myself twenty times,” Night Qianling replied, clutching her bleeding chest, her voice weak.

He released her, stepped back, and gestured for her to begin. “Do it.”

“Father, please, I don’t want to—don’t make me hit myself, it’s too humiliating.” She gasped, forcing out the words.

“Oh, so you know what shame is?” Emperor Guangde seized her bloodstained hand from her chest. “Do it.”

Just then a voice sounded outside. Hu Guangshen, perhaps worried, mustered his courage and knocked on the door: “Your Majesty, do you require my services?”

“It’s none of your business. Wait outside. I’m teaching my child a lesson. Since I called you out so late, find a place to rest for now,” Emperor Guangde barked back. Night Qianling flinched, not daring to look up.

Emperor Guangde watched her cowering, struggling to keep a straight face, though inwardly he nearly laughed. “Well? Get on with it.”

Night Qianling gritted her teeth, knowing there was no escape, and slapped herself across the face. Usually so quick to cheat her way out of punishment, this time she lacked the strength for guile. She landed the blow with full force, her body lurching sideways uncontrollably.

Emperor Guangde was momentarily stunned but did not stop her. Only after the twentieth slap, when she saw stars and her vision blurred, did he catch her hand, halting her by force.

Though not as brutal as the slaps he’d given her himself the previous afternoon, she had used all her strength. Her already injured face now streamed blood from both corners of her mouth, lips split wide.

“Do you admit your mistake? Will you say it again?” The blows had left her ears ringing. Instinctively, she nodded, unable to hear clearly.

“Will you say it again?” he pressed, his grip tightening on her arm.

Her arm throbbed, sharp pain shooting up as she lifted her head to glimpse his dark, thunderous expression. She quickly shook her head.

At last, he was satisfied, releasing her and moving to the door to summon the guard, “Bring Hu Guangshen. Now.”

Hu Guangshen, just about to rest, was startled awake by the guard’s hurried footsteps. Annoyed, but instantly alert, some premonition flashed through his mind. He grabbed his medicine chest and rushed to the imperial cell.

Sure enough, at the door he found Night Qianling slumped on a straw mat, head bowed low, chest soaked with blood. Hu Guangshen could hardly restrain a curse. But since the emperor was grieving his wife, he bit his tongue, ignoring the emperor and hurrying to Night Qianling’s side to check her pulse.

“Guang, is her injury serious?” Emperor Guangde asked.

Hu Guangshen shot him an exasperated glare, barely suppressing the urge to scold. “The Fifth Princess is a person, not an animal. Even beasts feel pain, you know.”

“This time I didn’t hit her—except for that one slap for her insolence. The rest…” Emperor Guangde began, but Hu Guangshen, impatient and unimpressed, interrupted him bluntly, “You made her hit herself. How is that any different?”

“It’s not the same—if she behaved, would I ever punish her?” Emperor Guangde faltered, remembering he had never been able to argue with Hu Guangshen, not even in their youth. The two had always been an inseparable pair: one a general, the other a physician, their bond unbroken even after he became emperor.

As he re-stitched her wound and administered anesthesia, Hu Guangshen said, “Think carefully. There’s no way the Fifth Princess could have done what happened with the Sixth Prince. If she had, with her character, she’d never have left any evidence. You know this.” He picked up a silver needle, holding it to the flame. “I know you’re angry about the Empress, but to take it out on the Fifth Princess—do you think that’s being a good father? Whatever happened, she never wished to harm her own mother.”

“But unless she suffers a little, she’ll never talk,” Emperor Guangde muttered, uncharacteristically hesitant. “Should we let Qianhao die in vain, and the assassin go free?”

“Think. Any secret the Fifth Princess would guard with her life is no simple matter. You must wait, be patient, or things will only get worse.” Hu Guangshen capped the major acupoints with needles, finally relaxing. “She’s always been strong from her martial training, or else you’d have crippled her by now.”

Emperor Guangde pondered, then decided to confide, “Guang, do you know about the third son of Prince You? The one who vanished mysteriously at fifteen? And the eldest son of Grand Commandant Feng Ke, found dead in the West Suburb’s bamboo grove?”

A chill of foreboding crept through Hu Guangshen, but he said nothing, just listened as Emperor Guangde turned back to gaze at the sleeping Night Qianling, drugged into unconsciousness. “She did it.”

“Impossible,” Hu Guangshen blurted, utterly stunned. “That can’t be. The Fifth Princess is kind to all, gentle, never one for grudges. How could you say such a thing?”

“At first, neither did I. But just now, when I questioned her, her answer told me all I needed. There’s no use asking if she did it—I already know.” Emperor Guangde looked at Night Qianling’s naturally smiling face, reluctant to accept it. “She believes that as long as someone fights her, if they do something she cannot bear, she will kill them. Her sense of life is limited to the battlefield. It’s hard to detect under normal circumstances. Only today, after I struck her in the Hall of Affairs, did I notice the scar on her neck, and realized something was amiss.”

Hu Guangshen waited for him to continue.

“Do you remember, when Feng Ke’s eldest son was found in the bamboo grove, he was barely alive? His last words were that his killer was a thin, clearly-scarred young man. Qianling is a girl, and slender besides—easy to mistake for a thin boy. At the time, the killer was said to be eighteen, studying with Chen and the others, highly skilled in martial arts. Who could have killed him so effortlessly, leaving no trace? Only Qianling, disguised as a man.”

“These are just your speculations. You can’t condemn her for a few coincidences,” Hu Guangshen said, though in his heart he was half-convinced, still wanting to defend her.

“I know her too well. Just as I know she had nothing to do with Qianhao’s affair—I don’t even need to ask.” Emperor Guangde gave a bitter smile. “If only I’d caught it sooner. Maybe if I’d corrected her, others wouldn’t have used her as a scapegoat, and Ziying wouldn’t have left me so soon.”

He crouched beside Night Qianling’s unconscious form, gently smoothing her furrowed brow. Perhaps their bond as father and daughter would change, starting from the day she was sent to the West Suburb’s bamboo grove.

He would send her there, to live with the shadow guards, to experience their world, hoping she would realize her own misjudgments, come to understand the value of life. In this way, he could silence the gossips and perhaps move her to change. Even if she could not escape the shadow of her mother’s death, at least she might correct her wrong thinking.

Those are only the two victims they knew of. Who could say how many others had died unknown? If he let things go on, greater tragedies would surely follow.

Once Emperor Guangde made up his mind, there was no turning back.