On the twenty-ninth of the twelfth month, the weather was clear with snow and ice, heralding the arrival of the new spring.
After a month shrouded in snow, today was a rare sunny day. The sky stretched endlessly blue, not a cloud in sight, like a vast sea. A brilliant winter sun shone upon the earth, bringing warmth, as if signaling spring's approach. Sunlight danced on the snow-covered mountains, radiant beams blending with glistening white snow, casting a golden shimmer across the silver landscape.
In the distance, houses, stairways, and lofty pavilions of the capital were blanketed in snow, draped in white as if clothed in purity. Amid this icy world, heaven and earth shared a single color, pure white, dazzling to the point of blinding.
Within the snow-laden imperial palace, the usual solemnity softened, replaced by quiet stillness. The scene was like a beautiful painting, almost enchanting, with icicles hanging from airy pavilions, dripping clear water that invigorated the spirit.
Yet, this snowy splendor paled beside the figure standing silently atop the snow-covered mountain.
Qing, clad in white robes purer than snow, her long hair flowing freely, stood with deep, distant eyes. Her jade-like skin glowed brighter than the snow, exuding an ethereal aura. Her waistband fluttered gently in the cool mountain breeze, a strand of dark hair brushing across her exquisitely delicate face.
She gazed into the distance, her cool, moon-like eyes piercing through mist and snowflakes, beholding the vast scenery beyond. She stood quietly, poised and graceful, her figure swaying lightly. It was as though she sought something through the frost, her thoughts drifting, perhaps aimlessly, perhaps with intent.
Her mere presence made her the most breathtaking sight in the world. Within the Xian Sect, countless disciples toiled just for a glimpse of her beauty.
Even the most celebrated beauties, famed for their allure, could only sigh in defeat before her, their radiance dimmed.
"Ha... brr!"
Not far behind Qing stood Elder Mu, dressed plainly and wrapped in thick clothing, shivering from the cold. A gust of wind swept through, prompting the frail old man to cup his hands over his mouth, exhaling a puff of white breath.
Elder Mu's face was etched with wrinkles, his skin marred with age spots, his head nearly bald save for a few stray hairs swaying atop his scalp. His cloudy eyes, however, were fixed on Qing, standing on a stone outcrop, gazing toward the capital. His gaze held reverence and admiration, but beneath it lurked a deep, unspoken desire.
The contrast between the tall, graceful Qing and the short, hunched Elder Mu was jarring.
What should have been a picturesque scene, a sunlit snowy day with a fairy-like figure gazing afar, was ruined by the presence of this unsightly old man.
If anyone witnessed this, they might lament that such a scene would have been perfect if paired with a refined maid instead, like a celestial fairy touring the mortal realm, arriving on clouds and departing with the moon.
Yet Qing seemed unconcerned. Her eyes betrayed no regard for appearances. She allowed Elder Mu's flickering, restless gaze to roam over her elegant form. Her frost-kissed, flawless face remained expressionless, as if the collapse of heavens could not stir her composure, so serene, so refined.
It was not arrogance, but true calm.
Elder Mu, however, shivered uncontrollably. Despite the warm sunlight bathing the snowfield, the ground remained icy, and a winter breeze felt like cold water dumped over his head. He rubbed his thin arms, trying to warm himself.
"You may return," Qing said, sensing his trembling. Without turning, her voice was clear and cold, like a breeze through a snowy valley, devoid of warmth.
"No... no matter..." Elder Mu forced a dry laugh, straightening his frail frame as if unaffected. But his short stature and withered body, like a dried-up tree, made his efforts comical, almost pitiable.
Since he insisted, Qing said no more. She continued gazing into the distance, her eyes seeming to pierce through the palace's snow-laden layers, along the cleared imperial path, where a young man seemed to approach.
And that young man, as if sensing her, lifted his head toward the snow-covered rear mountains of the imperial city, his gaze cutting through the endless chill.
Then, he offered a polite smile.
Elder Mu sensed a shift, noticing Qing's mood seemed complex. Hesitating, he stammered, "Princess... has something... happened?"
Qing's eyes flickered, her face unruffled, as if a mountain's collapse could not faze her. Hearing his timid question, she replied softly, "Someone has entered the palace."
"Is that so..." Elder Mu mumbled, lowering his head. A sudden, inexplicable anger surged within him.
Who could it be? Who could occupy Qing's thoughts so? Was it the man who had hurt her before?
He wanted to ask, but how could he? He was merely a servant, an old, ugly eunuch with no status in the palace. What right did he have to question Qing's feelings?
But what if the fairy-like Qing fell into that man's arms?
Would she remain so aloof?
Would she be happy? Fulfilled?
Would she live freely with him, unbound and joyful?
Would she bear his children, gentle and nurturing, tending to a home?
No... no...
The thought doused the lustful desires that usually consumed Elder Mu, extinguishing them like cold water over fire. All his carnal urges vanished.
That man... that man...
Grief gave way to a burning hatred, a desire to tear apart the one who had caused Qing pain, to reduce him to ashes.
He bowed his head lower, hiding the jealousy and rage on his face.
Qing's thoughts, however, drifted far away. Her gaze pierced the towering palace walls, faintly glimpsing the young man being led into the Hall of Nurturing Heart to meet her father.
She withdrew her gaze, gently closing her eyes.
Qing knew why he was here, likely regarding Prince Tao.
But... was there more?
Feng...
Her emotions were tangled. Before, in front of Lian, she had been resolute. Yet now, with Feng so near, her heart was like summer rain, elusive, unpredictable.
Would you... come to see me?
Qing was uncertain.
Behind her, Elder Mu and Qing stood in silence, like statues in the snow. Though the sky above was clear, the young woman and old man, beauty and ugliness, shared a wordless melancholy, as if bound by an invisible thread of sorrow.
A quarter-hour passed, then two... time felt both fleeting and eternal.
Uncertain. Lost.
"Empress Mei Su arrives!"
After an unknown stretch, a cry from a palace maid echoed from the path below, and a swarm of maids and eunuchs scattered to surround the viewing platform atop Pity Moon Residence.
A throng surged forward, overwhelming Elder Mu. He glanced around, seeking a place to hide, but the empress's grand entourage was imposing, its presence commanding even before her arrival.
The maids and eunuchs were poised, their expressions unchanging as they passed the unsightly Elder Mu. Their decorum was impeccable.
The once-empty platform was suddenly crowded, startling the frail Elder Mu. He shuffled backward, seeking cover, only to find more figures behind him. The eunuchs' faces were neutral, yet their gazes carried a trace of the empress's authority, like a glance from the overseer of Yong Row. Frozen, Elder Mu stood rooted, not daring to move.
"Qing!"
Mei Su approached, clad in regal robes, a phoenix crown atop her head, her face alight with a smile.
Mei Su wore a purple-gold phoenix robe with crimson accents, her inner gown a deep gold adorned with phoenix motifs. Light makeup graced her face, and despite the heavy winter robes, her graceful figure was undeniable, like a ripened peach, exuding both imperial dignity and mature allure. Her slender waist, unlike Qing's youthful elegance, moved with a serpentine charm. The long skirt hinted at rounded hips, like a refined millstone, and her shapely legs, no less striking than Qing's, peeked through the folds.
Her chest, however, stole Elder Mu's breath, stirring his loins. Mei Su's bosom was grand, towering, and full, barely contained by layers of robes. Soft yet firm, they stood proud, rivaling a young maiden's, yet surpassing Qing's in sheer abundance. They were awe-inspiring, tempting, drawing covetous gazes.
Elder Mu stole a glance, and her fleeting charm sent a jolt through him, his worn manhood twitching. A surge of desire shot from his groin to his head, nearly overwhelming him. Though he had relieved himself several times that morning, his urges stirred again. But reason held him back. Swallowing hard, he suppressed the rising lust.
This was the princess's mother!