Chapter 82: Slaughter

After crossing half Dingjing the bridal chair entered Prince Yu's mansion.
Many guests already at the gate. Prince Yu fierce and cruel—but imperial kin; ministers came. Emperor and princes absent—palace sent wedding gifts.
Lately Wenhui's coldness had displeased Prince Yu deeply. Today's palace envoy received neither toast nor thanks. The eunuch smiled cold inside. To others they were dust—yet they stood closest to the throne. Something wrong between Wenhui and Prince Yu—Prince Yu acted as before; Wenhui no longer indulged. Today's slight would anger Wenhui more.
After palace men left Prince Yu ordered guests welcomed. Today he wore great red wedding robes—fine cloth and embroidery—but one trouser leg empty, awkward on his fierce face. Forced smile for whom—everyone who saw it felt gooseflesh.
Shen family arrived. Shen Gui and Shen Wan sought colleagues—Shen Gui broken jar now; scandal known—might as well use marriage tie for career bricks. Shen Wan too—both ambitious, would not miss chance.
Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan sat apart—as bride's family they despised Shen Gui's posture. Ren Wanyun came too, beside Yuan—makeup thick hiding red eyes, forced smile edged with rage. Yuan little expression—occasional look at Shen Miao, weighted.
Shen Qiu noticed Yuan's eyes—angrily blocked each time. Luo Xueyan saw, asked thoughtful: "Boy—what with Yuan?"
Shen Xin and wife did not know Qing and Miao's feud. Shen Qiu mumbled: "Don't like him—some friction."
"Fine." Luo Xueyan glared. "Fight someone with no martial skill—Shen Qiu, how old are you?"
Shen Qiu looked to Shen Miao for help—she studied tea and said nothing.
Guests exchanged compliments—surface peace. Soon Shen Qing and Prince Yu bowed in ceremony.
Shen Qing veiled, supported by Chuntao and Xueli. After heaven and earth, bow to elders—Shen Gui's face awkward. Prince Yu's look at him venomous—making Prince Yu bow to them was uncanny.
Sure enough the mansion steward said haughtily: "His Highness's body inconvenient—elder bow waived."
Silence a heartbeat. Ren Wanyun bit teeth—cheek muscles shaking. Heaven and earth done—now Prince Yu remembered inconvenience—clearly denying Shen Qing, humiliating Shen Gui and Ren Wanyun.
Shen Gui flushed but was bully-coward—feared Prince Yu's blame. "If Highness unwell—waive it."
Younger guests snickered openly. Ren Wanyun nearly rushed forward—Yuan caught her arm, shook head lightly. She cooled. Yuan withdrew hand, looked at fawning Shen Gui far off—shadow on his face.
"Second brother disgraces us." Luo Xueyan despised. "Lets his daughter be bullied so?"
"I thought him greedy for rank—not this mad." Shen Xin shook head, disappointed. "How did second brother become this?"
"We're dragged down with them—unlucky." Shen Qiu sulked.
Shen Yue's family ashamed too. Shen Wan ambitious but less bare than Shen Gui; Chen Ruoqiu held herself refined. Still Shen family—Shen Gui's act shamed them all.
After humiliating Shen Gui Prince Yu seemed satisfied at others' contempt for the Shens. Couple bow prolonged—Shen Miao thought her eyes tricked—bride passing seemed to tremble.
Prince's wedding—no bridal chamber games. Shen Qing pregnant—unstable might harm imperial child—crime none could bear. Shen Qing sent to chamber; Prince Yu feasted outside, drinking.
"Congratulations, Highness." Ministers toasted fawning.
"Same to you." Prince Yu returned. Surface joy real tonight—drinking with court—yet Shen Miao caught occasional cold looks her way.
Prince Yu stumbled at her hand—would take it back. Eyes met across hall—Prince Yu raised cup distant, then obscene gesture, tongue on lip.
Malice plain—Shen Miao watched calm. Shen Qiu followed her gaze. "Sister—what do you see?" Prince Yu turned to drink—Shen Qiu saw nothing. Shen Miao stood. "Stuffy—air at the door."
"I'll come."
"No. Mo Qing and guards outside—I won't go far—just the door." She refused and left the hall.
Prince Yu's mansion vast. Mo Qing in the garden saw her out and followed. Shen Miao did not walk far—stood staring at the mansion's southwest corner.
Voice behind: "Fifth Sister."
She turned. Yuan had followed, smiling at her.
Yuan's smile unlike Fu Xiuyi's gentle warmth, unlike Shen Qiu's honest bluntness, unlike Yushu's mischief—always other meaning, uncomfortable. When he fixed your eyes it was snake sizing prey—cold clinging.
Yuan was second branch's most feared opponent.
"Feast half done—Fifth Sister out alone. I thought some secret you play without brothers." Words layered.
Shen Miao looked at garden branches—deep winter, flowers gone, bare limbs, snow heavy on tips, bleak and cold. "Then why did Second Brother follow—to peep my secret?"
"I would peep—" Yuan said, "but Sister hides too well—brother helpless. Still—we are siblings. Given chance, a word of counsel."
She turned, stared unblinking. "I'm listening."
"I returned and found Fifth Sister changed—another person. Grown, or taught. Brother's road is longer—see clearer." Pause—glance toward feast hall—cups clinking, toasts, flattery audible far off. "Qing marries today—Fifth Sister happy?"
"Honestly—great satisfaction." Shen Miao smiled faintly.
Lightning in Yuan's eyes—then laugh. "Fifth Sister knows no restraint. You and Qing—no truce. Send her to prince's mansion thinking victory—still childish." He touched Shen Miao's head like kind elder brother. "But Qing in the mansion may rise again. Weather this—her future unclear—Fifth Sister, your steps grow hard."
Shen Miao silent. Yuan went on: "Were I Fifth Sister—I would not leave Qing one chance—remove opponent early, take her life. Spite, making enemy suffer—only breeds trouble later." Kind smile. "You're young—don't understand spare snake, future grief. Against enemy—take life, best policy."
Shen Miao looked at Yuan, stirred inwardly. Yuan was second branch's cleverest—process ignored, result only. Offend him—simplest path, your life. Ruthless, direct, no loose ends. Calm, rational, unmoved by feeling—hard to provoke.
She laughed. "Second Brother is right—I'm young, not cold as you." Mockery—Yuan smiled unconcerned. Then Shen Miao's light voice: "Though not cold as you—we agree on one thing. I too… dislike loose ends. Guess—Eldest Sister in the mansion—will she rise again?"
Yuan stared at her. "You think not?"
"Will she?" Shen Miao countered. Always calm, obedient—but this "Will she?" dripped provocation and scorn—high look down—pupils of ever-controlled Yuan contracted sharp.
Shen Miao laughed softly, did not look at Yuan again, turned back toward feast hall.
Would Shen Qing rise again? Lips curved—joy from the heart. Mo Qing behind her paused. He had seen Shen Miao fierce, mostly calm command; smiles even carried faint authority. Now brows curved bright—what could please her so? Mo Qing glanced at Yuan still in garden—puzzled. Few words with Yuan made her this happy?
Grandest feast must end. When wine ran hot guests drifted away. Shen Miao mounted the carriage home.
Inside Luo Xueyan silent long. At last gripped Shen Miao's hand. "Jiaojiao—what kind of man do you favor?"
Mother asking unmarried daughter such—slightly improper. But Shen Qing's wedding stirred Luo Xueyan's heart. Years at war—she knew nothing of Shen Miao's inner life. Knew once Shen Miao loved Prince Ding—Luo Xueyan had seen him, dragon among men—but such men's ambition short; how much weight on love? Marry such—happiness uncertain.
Shen Miao paused, smiled at Luo Xueyan. "Mother—who do you hope I marry?"
Luo Xueyan did not expect the return—missed that Shen Miao showed no maiden shyness, asked as if simplest thing. She thought, said: "I hope upright character—office not too high, wealth not too much, ambition not too great, household not too complex. Power and wealth—Father and I give you. Small ambition—true love. Simple house—quiet life after marriage. In all—respect you, cherish you truly."
Shen Miao lowered eyes smiling. Shen Xin and Luo Xueyan's hope never changed—ordinary man, utmost requirement: love her. Past life her heart was larded blind—ten thousand men, she chose one who loved her least.
"But," Luo Xueyan laughed herself, "girls your age don't want such. You want the one visible in any crowd. At your age I loved young heroes too—married your father—no regret."
"Then I listen to Mother." Shen Miao said softly.
Luo Xueyan stiffened. "What?"
Shen Miao looked at her, word by word: "Marry ordinary, plain, man who cherishes and respects me—isn't that Mother's hope? When marrying age comes—I marry such."
Luo Xueyan held her hand—strange feeling. Girl before her obedient, gentle—unlike past willful pride. Said yes to everything—obedient daughter should delight—yet Luo Xueyan felt no joy. This face should not wear such meekness—should be willful, rebellious, vivid—not this compliant calm that inexplicably ached.
She pulled Shen Miao into embrace, low: "Even so—at your age, liking anyone is not wrong. Whoever Jiaojiao holds in heart must be finest. Jiaojiao so good—he will cherish and respect you. If Jiaojiao loves—even not ordinary—if he treats Jiaojiao well, Mother won't stop you."
Shen Miao buried head in Luo Xueyan's chest, voice barely audible: "Thank you, Mother."
……
Night of the eighth—snow again.
Near New Year weather had cleared—days of sun. This night rare blizzard.
Dingjing streets empty—shops barred tight—north wind like knives driving coarse snow whirling.
At Prince Yu's gate red lanterns blown crooked—earlier fireworks and colored cloth buried in snow. Two red "joy" characters on the door—wind tore half away; remainder pitted, eerie.
Two guards at gate had feast wine—drunk. One raised flask, laughed. "Never thought our mansion would have princess consort again. Never imagined daughter sold in."
"Hey—that's not marry—that's sell. Princess consort or not—" peered inside, shook head—"who knows how long she lives."
"Maybe cheap for us." First guard leered, malice in tone.
"She carries Highness's child—you want death, go ahead." Other said.
"Psht—" faint in wind. Flask man asked: "Hear something just now?"
"What? Wind. Don't jump." Other waved drunken.
"Highness's great day—no trouble." First guard sobered slightly, straightened, looked around—saw nothing.
"Worry for nothing—we're at Prince Yu's mansion! Who dares make trouble—tired of living! Eh—" wiped face—"why's snow warm?" By torchlight on palm—not snow. Blood.
Warm blood.
He jolted—looked up—corpse on eaves staring, throat blood dripping drip drip.
"Help—" one syllable—silver flash—throat hot spray—strength gone—soft collapse.
Falling he saw companion on snow, chest crimson, trail shocking across white.
From eaves dozens dropped—black clothes, masked, merged with night. Two more from other side dragged bodies away—moments later new "guards" stood at gate proper.
Lead black-clad hand signal—party slipped silent into mansion.
Prince Yu's bedchamber—Shen Qing sat bed edge, shaking.
Prince Yu on couch—two naked beautiful maids massaging legs, feeding, whispering indecent things. Shen Qing bit lip bloody—humiliation beyond words.
She should have been great house daughter, married man like Prince Ding—handsome as god. Now Prince Yu's wife—must watch low women humiliate her, watch debauchery—fear and rage—and hate Shen Miao deepest.
"Be grateful you carry my seed," Prince Yu noticed her face, darkened. "Else tonight would not pass so easy." He enjoyed her fear—mind flashed another pair of clear calm eyes—rage surged. Looking at Shen Qing slowly: "After you bear my child—I won't mistreat you. Mansion has many guards—born and died for me—as my wife you should comfort them…"
Shen Qing's head rang—nearly fainted. Future in his words—no courage to live.
"Heh—I will treat you well." Gentler voice—more fever eyes—even maids trembled.
"Trembling?" Prince Yu frowned displeased—before speaking left maid stumbled, fell on him, jade arms locking his head. Before he moved right maid plucked hairpin, drove into his throat.
Prince Yu screamed—not weak—"boom"—both maids flung off. He had martial skill—vicious—maids struggled twice, still.
Shen Qing dumb with terror—hid under table. Prince Yu pulled pin—shallow but blood flowed. Cursed loud: "Guards! Guards!"
Guard answered, entered. Prince Yu kicked corpses. "What trash—investigate."
"Yes." Guard bowed—Prince Yu turned—"psht"—looked down—silver blade tip bloody through chest.
Clean through.
Guard who had nodded drew blade—Prince Yu swayed, tried to call—few steps—"thump"—down.
Blade bright, blood broad—skilled as slaughtering pig—one stroke death—no extra motion.
Guard looked at corpse, at Shen Qing trembling under table: "You Shen Qing?"
"Yes—hero… Brother sent you to save me?" Shen Qing's eyes lit.
Guard said nothing—walked out.
Shen Qing puzzled—wanted door—feared corpse—gathered gold and silver from table, bundled, opened door—tripped almost.
Lantern light weak—bodies of guards sprawled before door—horror. Shen Qing screamed—looked out.
Dark figures moved fast—heavy falls—each fall colder in the chest. Prince Yu's mansion hell—blizzard hid sight—blood smell net over head.
Even snow seemed scarlet sky.
……
Shen house west garden.
Bailu shut window again. "Wind and snow fierce—blown open several times—scary."
"Old folk say such weather—heaven punishing sinners." Shuangjiang laughed. "Sin must be great—blizzard like this—years since we've seen."
"Mistress still thinking day's feast?" Jingzhe asked. Since evening home Shen Miao sat at table thinking—sat till dark. Jingzhe felt she waited for something.
Wait for what?
Shen Miao shook head. "Watch a little more."
Watch? Guyu and Jingzhe exchanged looks—outside black—what could she see?
Shen Miao lowered eyes. Lamp calm inside—wind and snow battle outside. One night—how many lives to yellow springs?
Yuan was right—she never left herself retreat—so never left enemy retreat.
Slender fingers tapped table rim unhurried—rhythm pleasant as strange song condemned women sang in cold palace.
What song?
Good and evil meet their due—heaven's wheel turns round.