In Linde Hall of the Daming Palace, the New Year’s Eve banquet shimmered with splendor. The delicate strains of string and bamboo instruments intertwined with the clinking of cups in lively toasts. Dancers from the Imperial Entertainment Bureau, clad in flowing Hun-style garments, performed the Huxuan dance, spinning with such grace and increasing speed that ministers at the banquet erupted in cheers and applause.
A young official in a crimson robe observed quietly, only reaching for a golden milk pastry once the performance concluded. As he chewed thoughtfully, he suddenly noticed an empty seat beside him.
“Hmm? Where did Junior Minister Cui go?” he asked.
Another fourth-rank official laughed lightly. “Could it be that Director Wang still hopes for Cui Xun to be here?”
Director Wang’s face flushed. He glanced nervously at the Emperor presiding on the main seat. “That’s not what I meant. It’s just… His Majesty is hosting this banquet, and for Junior Minister Cui to leave without permission seems… inappropriate.”
“Hmph,” scoffed another official. “At a New Year’s Eve banquet, only Cui Xun would dare to leave without permission.”
Nearby officials began muttering their disapproval. “Cui Xun simply has no respect for his sovereign. How outrageous!”
“Careful, Academic Lu,” someone whispered urgently. “A few months ago, Commander Zhou Ping made a careless remark about Cui Xun and was promptly accused, detained by the Investigation Department, and still hasn’t been released.”
“A petty man—why should I fear him?” Academic Lu shot back.
“Academic Lu, though your Lu family is prestigious, even noble clans have been toppled by Cui Xun in recent years.”
The crimson-robed official’s voice grew louder with indignation. “Of the five great surnames—Cui, Lu, Li, Zheng, Wang—the Boling Cui clan stands foremost. Yet they produced such a disgrace! Cui Xun cowardly surrendered to the Turks, became the Empress Dowager’s bedchamber attendant to save his own life, frames officials, harms loyal subjects, and reverses right and wrong—he knows no bounds of evil! Truly, a shame to his noble lineage!”
His fury drew attention from even distant princes. A nearby official pressed a hand on Academic Lu’s arm, whispering urgently, “Academic Lu, Cui Xun heads the Investigation Department. They know everything—our visits to the Pingkang entertainment district, our words in this hall. Speak cautiously.”
Another official added, “Ruthless and vindictive, Cui Xun leaves no enemy untouched. Yet the Empress Dowager favors him—what can we do?”
Academic Lu could only sigh. “A villain runs rampant in the Great Zhou court… When will the clouds part and the moon shine clear?”
Director Wang, quiet until now, murmured: “Soon.”
Eyes turned to him, and he continued swiftly: “Gentlemen, Cui Xun wins favor with the Empress Dowager through his beauty. Beauty fades; when it does, the Empress Dowager will tire of him. Then, the skies will clear, the earth will rest, and justice will return.”
The officials nodded subtly, hearts secretly hoping the day would come when Cui Xun’s cruelty met its reckoning.
Meanwhile, Cui Xun drank alone beside the Lotus Pond. Abandoned for years, the pond was overrun with green algae, the withered lotus stems standing lonely beneath the pale moonlight. Tilting his head back, he downed a cup of spring wine in one gulp.
Under the cold silver glow, his neck gleamed long, white, and graceful like a crane’s. His slightly lowered eyes framed a strikingly beautiful, almost androgynous face—the perfect embodiment of the “Lotus Flower Gentleman.” Snow-white skin glimmered even beneath the white fox fur cloak draped around him, an ethereal presence amid the desolation of the forgotten pond.
Cui Xun, the villain on everyone’s lips, stood alone—but utterly untouchable.
After draining the spring wine, Cui Xun coughed softly into his sleeve twice. He lowered his arm and let his gaze drift to the bright, pale moon above. His eyes, shaped like enchanting phoenix eyes, tilted slightly upward, yet revealed no emotion. The strains of string and bamboo instruments from Linde Hall rolled in distant waves, mingling with the scent of burning agarwood and sandalwood carried beyond Danfeng Gate. The raucous exorcism dances on Zhuque Street created a cacophony that clashed sharply with the eerie stillness of the abandoned Lotus Pond.
Cui Xun lifted a silver wine pitcher from the ground, poured it into a gold cup, and drained it in one smooth motion. Several cups later, a gentle flush of intoxication warmed his skin. When pouring another, his hand slipped, and the cup tumbled into the pond with a soft splash.
Bleary-eyed, Cui Xun reached into the water—but his hand met something unexpectedly smooth and cold. Not metal, but skin, soft like silk, warm and yielding. It pressed against his palm, intertwining with his fingers as if a woman’s delicate, boneless hand had sought his touch.
From beneath the dark water came a soft, ethereal sigh:
“I’ve been waiting for you.”
Most would have fled in terror—but not Cui Xun. He merely frowned slightly, his expression an unbroken mask of calm. Just then, a palace eunuch bearing a lantern approached, calling, “Junior Minister Cui!”
The hand beneath the water slowly withdrew, but Cui Xun’s eyebrow rose as he reached down again—only to recover the gold cup.
The eunuch, overjoyed, hurried forward. “Junior Minister Cui, this servant has found you! The Empress Dowager has arrived at the New Year’s Eve banquet and is asking after you.”
Cui Xun stared at the cup in his hand, lost in thought. The eunuch repeated his call twice more before Cui Xun’s gaze returned to him. Casually tossing the cup aside, he tightened his white fox fur cloak around his shoulders. The fur’s pure whiteness made his already pale, almost translucent face even more spectral. Covering his mouth, he coughed twice lightly, lowered his wrist, and stood with a languid, cold grace:
“Let’s go.”
After two steps, he glanced back at the Lotus Pond. The water lay perfectly still, as though nothing had stirred moments ago. His eyes remained steady, calm as a bottomless well, before he followed the eunuch toward Linde Hall.
Reaching the hall, the eunuch whispered with a conspiratorial air:
“Junior Minister Cui, if anyone asks where you’ve been, don’t say you visited the Lotus Pond.”
“Oh? Why not?” Cui Xun asked, faint amusement curling his lips.
The eunuch hesitated, lowering his voice:
“Doesn’t the Junior Minister know? That Lotus Pond belonged to Princess Yong’an…”
Cui Xun understood immediately.
This was the pond where Princess Yong’an—Li Ying, the Empress Dowager’s beloved daughter—had met her untimely death. Named the “Bright Moon Pearl,” she had been a child of ethereal beauty, adored by both the Late Emperor and Empress Dowager. Her radiance was said to eclipse the seven treasures of Buddhist scriptures, and she was granted the wealthiest prefecture, Guangling, as her fief.
By sixteen, the princess’s beauty had reached the realm of legend. Gentle, kind, and wise beyond her years, she interceded to spare countless servants and officials from the Emperor’s wrath. Yet at the height of her bloom, she was cruelly cut down.
The Late Emperor had betrothed her to Tribute Scholar Zheng Yun of the Zheng clan of Xingyang—a noble match by every measure. But Zheng Yun despised Princess Yong’an’s humble maternal origins and quietly nursed a growing resentment. On the sixth day of the tenth month in the twentieth year of Taichang, he lured her to the Lotus Pond under false pretense. She, trusting and joyous, never imagined her fate. Unable to swim, she was cast into the water, her cries unheard, and her life extinguished.
The Late Emperor’s grief was unparalleled. The investigation revealed Zheng Yun’s guilt. Not only was he executed, but his relatives and Empress Zheng, who had recommended him, were also punished. Rivers of blood ran through Chang’an as the Zheng clan was obliterated—a catastrophic event remembered as the Taichang Blood Incident.
From that day forward, the Late Emperor’s mistrust of noble families reshaped the court. Commoners rose as generals and ministers, and the once-exclusive aristocracy saw its influence wane forever.
Cui Xun recalled these events as he adjusted the fox fur around his shoulders. His gaze lingered briefly on the Lotus Pond, the faint warmth of the hand he had felt still lingering in his mind.
He pressed his lips together, coughed lightly into his sleeve twice, the sound barely stirring the chill air. Adjusting the white fox fur cloak around his shoulders, he moved forward with measured grace, each step echoing faintly as he walked slowly into the bustling New Year’s Eve banquet.
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