Da Tang Si Zi: My Six Super Rich Little Nuggets!

Chapter 208 Pearl Screen Imprisoning the Mountain Oriole, Traitor Yan Zhiwei

Under the eaves of the Yeting Palace in a snow-covered village in Northeast China, where frost and snow were swirling, Xiao Si woke up with her eyelashes fluttering. The golden silk quilt was still damp with the chill of the snow-covered village beyond the Great Wall.

Qiu Rongmu leaned against the sandalwood table, watching the girl rub her eyes in a daze, her eyes shimmering with the gentle light only found on the banks of the Songhua River: "Little girl, are you finally awake? Now you are the most precious Princess Anding in the history books—the one who was crossed out again and again by the historians with their red ink, disappeared, but always rode horses with your grandmother in the Changbai Mountain hunting grounds."

"Really?" Little Si suddenly sat up straight, the gold bracelet on her wrist clinking together with a clear, tinkling sound like shattered jade. Outside the window, the north wind whipped up the snow on the glazed tiles, and in a daze, she saw her blurred title being redrawn by millions of snowflakes on the yellowed pages of history books.

Qiu Rongmu added a piece of pine torch to the bronze beast-shaped incense burner, the firelight making the old scar between his brows appear even deeper: "The other day, Chang'an was quite a scene. Your mother staged a bloody spectacle at Danfeng Gate. The evidence of Yan Zhiwei's treason was thoroughly investigated. Guess how the Empress dealt with him?"

Xiao Si gazed at the rising smoke from the gilded incense ball on the table, when suddenly he heard the mournful cry of a crow outside the window.

Qiu Rongmu's voice, mingling with the crackling of charcoal, rose and fell in the warm chamber: "Five fierce horses presented as tribute by the Turks, specially made ox-tendon ropes by the Imperial Guards, the snow-covered execution ground in the West Market a blinding red. Officials, holding bows made of mulberry wood, stood in formation, resembling a lantern riddle-solving contest during the Lantern Festival—except this time, the arrowheads would be soaked in human blood!"

She recalled the timeline of Mei Xiaosi, and the Emperor Wu Yizong she had seen in the Fengtian Hall. How could that prince, who dared not even shoot a deer during a hunt, be now shaking his purple robe and jade belt, letting the arrows veer off course and into the snowdrifts?

Qiu Rongmu chuckled and gestured, "Three arrows missed the target; the shadow puppet shows in the entertainment district have gained a new trope. It's just a pity for those Yan family brats..."

Before she could finish speaking, the scene under the West Market archway suddenly appeared before Xiao Si's eyes.

Seven or eight young children, clutching candies, were led to the West Market. Their crimson brocade jackets made their fair faces appear even more adorable. They frolicked and jostled for the candies offered by the vendors, completely unaware of the bloody execution ground they were about to face. An old woman covering her grandson's eyes with a handkerchief while watching, and the officials in red robes from the Censorate turned their backs, letting frost fall on their black gauze hats.

"That day, I was still Mei Xiaosi, and I broke a jade paperweight in the Zichen Palace." At this moment, An Dingsi gently stroked the red string on her wrist, the talisman her grandmother had tied when she traveled through time. "The court officials almost broke their tablets, but they managed to save those children's lives. It's just that Yan Zhiwei's bones..." She looked out the window, where palace servants could be vaguely seen sweeping snow in the twilight, and the bluestone slabs seemed to still be covered with an indelible crimson stain.

Back when Xiao Si was still Mei Xiao Si, he certainly knew this was a way to make an example of them. With the ministers' pleas for mercy, these children had to be spared. And Yan Zhiwei… he couldn't let him end his spineless life so confused and miserable…”

Qiu Rongmu shoved a hand warmer into her hand, its surface engraved with wolf patterns, a tribute from the Khitan. "To be honest," she said, "this world is like the snow sleds in our village. The women always sit on them wrapped in fur coats, enjoying the view, while the reins are held by someone else. Your mother managed to wrest the whip from the snow, but the bloodstains left behind still sully the beautiful white expanse."

The setting sun cast its slanting rays on the carved window lattice. Xiao Si lightly tapped the celadon cup on the table with her fingertips, causing ripples to spread across the tea inside. "It's just that in the annals of history, a few more strokes of bright red cinnabar were added to Wu Zetian's portrait." As her eyes flickered, the copper bells on the eaves jingled softly in the evening breeze.

Princess Jinshan, a hundred years ago, was like a kite with a broken string. Even though she was tied to the gilded silk thread of the Song Dynasty's royal palace, she eventually drifted away in the folds of the prosperous Kaiyuan era.

Her grandfather, Li Dan, once clutched the Imperial Seal of the State during the Xuanwu Gate Incident; her father, Li Xian, still exudes the echoes of Li Bai's drunkenly overturned glass cup and the refreshing scent of Wang Wei's new pine soot paintings from his mansion. Yet, these glittering past events ultimately etched a painful mark on the delicate palms of a woman with a tragic fate.

The vermilion gates of the Song Prince's Mansion were perpetually filled with the exotic fragrance of the Western Regions, and three hundred beautiful women were kept in its thirty-six courtyards. When Li Xian's white deerskin boots stepped across the bluestone slabs of the East Market, a fleeting glimpse of her unadorned face in the rising steam from the steamed bun stall made even the peonies in the garden pale in comparison. The woman's drooping neck was three times whiter than fresh snow, and her slender fingers kneading dough were stained with wheat flour, as if coated with moonlight.

"Is this the jade maiden before the Queen Mother of the West?" King Song chuckled, stroking the nine-ringed jade belt around his waist. Twenty cartloads of Shu brocade and luminous pearls brought by foreign merchants easily crushed the rising smoke and bustling world in the steamer. When the golden silk curtains replaced the coarse hemp curtains, the wooden hairpin in the bride's hair was replaced with a filigree gold phoenix. However, the reflection in the mirror was still that of the wife in the morning light of the East Market, whose hands were covered in flour, yet she still wiped her husband's sweat.

The following year, on the Shangsi Festival, the magnolias in the garden bloomed profusely. Li Xian took the beauty's fair wrist in his hand: "Do you still remember the white steam when the steamer was lifted?" Before he finished speaking, a servant led a hunchbacked man through the winding corridor. The steamer's coarse cloth clothes were still stained with wheat bran, and his palms were covered with old burn scars.

Amidst the commotion, Wang Wei's wolf-hair brush suddenly fell to the ground—what rolled down the woman's eyes were not just tears, but clearly crushed Lantern Festival lights, mashed mimosa flower juice, and shattered moonlight dredged from a deep well.

That night, Wang Wei, his Xuanzhou purple-haired brush saturated with Huizhou ink, spread ink plum blossoms on the Chengxintang paper: "Do not be swayed by present favor..." As Wang Wei threw down his brush, a drop of ink landed precisely on the character "恩" (en, meaning gratitude/kindness) in "宁忘昔日恩" (Ning Wang Wang's phrase "Ning Wang Xi Ri En"), much like a tear stain spreading across a beautiful woman's lapel. Outside the window, amidst the sound of the night watchman's drum, the long, drawn-out cry of a steamed bun vendor drifted from someone's courtyard, seemingly traversing a thousand years of time.

The banquets at the Prince Song's mansion were always the most exquisite in Chang'an, but tonight, a crack appeared in their atmosphere due to an unsung song. White jade lotus lanterns reflected through crystal curtains, turning the room's aroma of wine into a hazy mist, and amidst the toasts, the suppressed restlessness of the scholars could be faintly felt—the legendary favored sister, whose "clear songs could stop the clouds," remained hidden behind layers of curtains.

"Does Your Highness perhaps intend to emulate Lady Li of the Han Dynasty?" The Imperial Censor Qu Youjiu leaned against a gilded armrest, the lingering amber light from the rim of agate cup dancing brightly in his eyes. "On this auspicious night, why not let the colorful phoenix spread its wings to appease your sincere admiration?"

The entire audience, dressed in blue robes and scholar's caps, held their breath, while only the smoke from the gilded incense burner drew an arc of anticipation in the air.

Li Xian stroked the double-dragon jade belt around his waist, the gilded silver armor drawing a meteor-like arc in the candlelight: "Since Qu Qing has composed 'The Phoenix Seeks Its Mate,' he should naturally use seven treasures as a barrier." Before he finished speaking, twelve maids in plain clothes filed in, and a screen made of golden nanmu wood unfolded one after another. From behind a curtain adorned with pearls from the South China Sea, the clear sound of a jade chime suddenly broke through the air.

In the shadows, a woman in a purple and gold-embroidered skirt moved slightly. Little Si, still Princess Jinshan at this moment, lightly covered half of her face with a round fan.

This song, "Midnight Song," was clearly a tune from the Jiangnan region, yet the singer sang it with the desolation of a lone goose from the frontier. Gazing at the beaded curtain on the screen trembling with the song, she suddenly realized that this magnificent room was nothing more than a gilded cage—like the intricately shaped ball presented by the Silla envoy three days earlier. Resentment welled up in her heart; no matter how noble she was, as an imperial princess, she was ultimately trapped in layers upon layers of brocade and intricate mazes.

"What a beautiful 'lotus leaves, so lush and green'!" Amidst the cheers, the princess's fingertips traced the gilded dagger hidden in her sleeve. This was evidence seized this morning from Consort Shu's palace; the blade still bore traces of poison. The clearer the song, the more she heard the mournful cries of crows in a northeastern mountain village. Was the blind old woman who had taught her to identify poisonous mushrooms in the snow still waiting for "Mountain Sparrow Girl" to return home?

Behind the jeweled screen, the last syllable of Chongjie's voice shattered like jade from Kunlun Mountain. As Li Xian raised his cup with a smile, Princess Jinshan noticed a strange, eerie light flashing on the jade ring on his thumb—the same color as the powder that had stained the cuffs of the imperial physician on the night the Third Prince died.

The thought of her father's beloved older sister and the pancake seller's wife filled her with sorrow. Their lives were like snowflakes in a Northeast winter, drifting wherever they pleased, with no control over their own destinies.

Whether in a magnificent palace or a bustling market in Northeast China, women seem to be held tightly by the hand of fate, finding a place to let loose and make a name for themselves is incredibly difficult.

When Little Si woke up again, she was no longer Jinshan. "Brother Wood, it's been so long! I was Princess Jinshan just now!"

Qiu Rongmu smiled and chatted with the dazed little Si: "Ni'er, you are still a princess, Princess Anding, the one who was rumored to have been strangled to death by your mother Wu Zetian, the one who always came to our Northeast Snow Town to ski with your grandmother."

"Haha, that's great! I love the character of An Ding Si, a character erased from history, yet possessing the wealth and favor of a princess."

Qiu Rongmu continued, "You know, Yan Zhiwei, all his traitorous deeds were exposed. Your mother was furious. She had him torn apart by five horses and ordered all the officials to shoot him, just like shooting at a shooting range during the New Year in Northeast China. They really went all out! After that, they even cut off his flesh, crushed his bones, and exterminated his entire clan! Look how ruthless that was! Little Si, it's still more comfortable for you to stay with your grandma in our village in Northeast China. With your brother, you're guaranteed to have no worries."

Xiao Si said, "Absolutely! Fate isn't just a woman's affair. Take Yan Zhiwei, for example. When his mother heard he'd been captured, she was overjoyed. She immediately ordered him to be executed by dismemberment, to be pulled apart by five horses in five different directions, and then chopped into eight pieces in the West Market. She even ordered all the officials to shoot arrows at his corpse. That guy, Wu Yizong, the Prince of Hanoi, was a complete coward. He got to within seven steps of Yan Zhiwei's body and shot three arrows, missing every single one. He was such a coward! He was a man too, but he was utterly useless. In the end, Yan Zhiwei's body was covered in arrows, looking like a giant hedgehog lantern that we hang during the New Year in Northeast China."

Qiu Rongmu said, "Even so, I heard your mother wasn't satisfied. Not only did she strip him naked and break his bones, but she also exterminated his entire clan. Even those distant relatives and friends who weren't even remotely related to him were captured and killed!"

Xiao Si gave a disapproving look: "You've demonized them again, haven't you?!"