Chapter Sixteen: Recalling the Past

When Ye Qianling awoke from the anesthesia, her body was weak and powerless. She lifted her right hand to rub her dry eyes, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Emperor Guangde had not left. He was sitting beside her, and his usual air of nonchalance vanished instantly. “Father, why are you here?”

Half-awake, she noticed that Emperor Guangde showed not a trace of emotion, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on her. The pain at the corner of her mouth as she spoke reminded Ye Qianling of what had just happened.

“Father, do you really want me to go to the Southern Garden in the western outskirts? Is there truly no room for negotiation?” Ye Qianling thought back to what had occurred and still wanted to try and plead her case. After all, clinging to life is better than resigning to death—anyone would feel the same, and so did she.

Hearing her question, Emperor Guangde did not reply. Gradually, the light in Ye Qianling’s eyes faded. Emperor Guangde, feeling a pang of sorrow, shifted his gaze away from her to the wide-open door. “Then tell your father everything. If you confess, we can let this matter go. Otherwise, don’t blame me for being ruthless.”

A wave of bitterness rose from Ye Qianling’s chest. Ha, it was useless. She’d already convinced herself to accept her fate—what hope was there left to cling to?

“All right, Father. I understand.” She did not have the courage to meet his eyes, instead gazing at the bloodstains on her clothes, smiling through tears as she spoke. “Father, I have one request. If you grant it, no matter what you ask of me, I will obey without hesitation.”

Hearing this, Emperor Guangde sensed an air of final farewell, as if this were a parting between life and death. He wanted to explain that things were not as she thought, but curiosity kept him silent. He simply raised his chin, signaling for Ye Qianling to continue.

“I know that every Dark Guard must acknowledge a master upon completion of training. Father, my only wish is that, if I am to become one, my master will be you alone.” Ye Qianling spoke her request, a little embarrassed, but resolute.

At this, Emperor Guangde couldn’t help but find the situation faintly comical, especially matched with Ye Qianling’s look of determined martyrdom. It was a struggle to maintain his stern expression.

How had he not realized before how foolish his youngest daughter could be? She was still a princess, after all. This was merely an exercise, a lesson she needed to learn—once she grasped it, she would naturally return. By then, the truth about who had captured Ye Qianhao would likely emerge from her lips as well. No matter what, he would never truly make her a Dark Guard.

Unable to contain himself in the end, a faint smile broke through his otherwise somber features. “How did Ziying and I end up with such a silly daughter? A master? Do you really want to become a Dark Guard?”

Ye Qianling, clever and mischievous by nature, had been dulled by the blow she’d suffered. Now she finally caught on, color returning to her pale face. She asked tentatively, “Father, were you joking with me?”

Emperor Guangde wanted to laugh but recalled the gravity of the moment, so he resumed his stern paternal demeanor. “Every two years, the top-ranked Dark Guard is absolved of their role. Have you forgotten? I haven’t cast you aside—I’m giving you a chance. If you’re first in the rankings two years from now, you can return openly, still as my daughter. But if you fail, unless you confess the truth to me, you’ll remain a Dark Guard. And let me assure you, your master will not be me.”

“Agreed,” Ye Qianling replied without hesitation. “So long as you still want me, Father, I deserve this punishment. Otherwise, you couldn’t silence the rumors, and I could never find peace.”

How adorably foolish, he thought. Her words made it clear that she wasn’t responsible for what happened to Ye Qianhao, yet she was oblivious. His wife had long said that Ye Qianling was always one step behind in his presence.

Emperor Guangde dared make such a demand because he had every confidence in Ye Qianling—he never doubted her. Though she appeared naive before him, her intelligence, cunning, and martial skill were unmatched. Still, for a girl who hated restraint, the exile to the Western Suburb’s villa was no small challenge.

“There’s something I must ask you,” Emperor Guangde said, finally voicing a question he’d long wanted answered. Ye Qianling straightened, waiting. “Have you ever killed anyone outside the battlefield?”

“I want a definitive answer. You know I despise lies,” he pressed, seeing her hesitate a moment.

“Yes,” Ye Qianling replied after a moment’s thought. “There were two people. Outside the battlefield, I’ve only acted against two.”

Ye Qianling didn’t share Emperor Guangde’s belief in the equality of all lives, but she’d acted in secret both times, knowing the two were sons of court officials. Killing them openly would have brought trouble. Since he’d asked, she saw no reason to hide it.

She recalled their names: Feng Yuan and Ye Qianhe. She drifted into brief recollection.

At eleven, she’d killed the third son of the then Prince You—fifteen-year-old Ye Qianhe. Prince You, Emperor Guangde’s half-brother, had been spoiled by his favored mother and grown arrogant, his sons even worse. That third son, in particular, was notorious. He and Feng Yuan, the son of the Commandant, were infamous in the capital. They’d abducted several common girls in broad daylight from Guanghua Gate. When the girls resisted, these two killed them brutally.

The girls’ fathers, bribed to silence, claimed nothing had happened and that their daughters had taken their own lives, and so the case was closed. Anyone with eyes could see the truth, but the outcry faded; the guilty were even spoken for by their victims’ families. Such was the world’s injustice.

Ye Qianling had just returned victorious from her first battle. In high spirits, she’d sneaked out to the food street near Guanghua Gate for a famous bowl of beef noodles. There, she saw the two men forcing three or four girls onto a carriage. At first, she didn’t understand, but when one girl cried for help and the carriage disappeared, she realized.

Coincidentally, the daughter of the sesame cake shop owner next door was among them. Distraught, Ye Qianling, unused to such injustice, was furious. She soon learned who the culprits were and stormed to Prince You’s residence, only to find the prince indifferent. The girls were eventually found in a bamboo grove by the Southern Garden—bodies battered, dead on the spot.

Ye Qianling was furious. She told Ye Qianchen and the others, and though the investigation led to the two men, the bribed families refused to accuse them. Justice was never served.

Four days later, on a rainy night, Ye Qianling stabbed Ye Qianhe and, after tying stones to his body, sank him to the bottom of a well in the Southern Garden. The next day, she killed Feng Yuan, using the same method. He was too large to carry, so she left him in the nearby bamboo grove. Both received their due punishment.

She had never told anyone about these events. What puzzled her was that, though she admitted to Emperor Guangde she’d killed two people, he never asked who they were. She found this strange—shouldn’t he have inquired?

Emperor Guangde read her thoughts on her face but betrayed nothing, simply continuing the discussion of her assignment to the Southern Garden as if the other question had never been raised.

“Think carefully before you act, and remember this always, even in the Southern Garden,” Emperor Guangde said.

“I will remember, Father,” Ye Qianling replied, nodding in agreement.

Emperor Guangde, needing to return to affairs of state, spoke a few final words and prepared to leave. Ye Qianling, though not hungry, thought of not seeing her father for two years and tugged at his sleeve. “Father, will you have hotpot with me?”

Seeing her longing gaze, Emperor Guangde did not refuse. With an expressionless nod, he ordered, “Prepare hotpot here.”

Ye Qianling had not eaten in a long time. The wound in her ribs throbbed with pain, and eating after chest surgery was hardly wise—it would only make things worse. Yet, she seized this excuse for a moment longer with her father.

“This cabbage is cooked, Father, please have some.”
“The lamb is ready, Father, eat this.”

Throughout the meal, Ye Qianling barely touched her food. She knew he had little appetite as well, but she did not want him to go hungry or feel unwell. She kept serving him, enduring the stabbing pain and nausea in her chest, feigning composure as she smiled through the meal.

Emperor Guangde felt a sour ache in his chest at the sight. He had no choice but to sacrifice his daughter for the sake of justice and the integrity of the law. No one could say what awaited her in the Southern Garden, or how much she would suffer.

At last, the meal ended in silence. Despite the warmth of the hotpot, their hearts remained cold as ice, steeped in sorrow.

“Father will go now,” Emperor Guangde said, rising after the servants cleared the table. “Tomorrow morning, someone will escort you to the Southern Garden. In these two years, do not let me down.” Looking at Ye Qianling, head bowed on the grass mat, he knew there would be no smile on her face. For her sake and his own, he turned to leave without waiting for a reply.

“Father,” Ye Qianling called out, her voice trembling. “Goodbye.” She lifted her tear-stained face, her reluctance plain as day.

“Take good care of yourself. Whenever you want to speak, you may return at any time.” Fearing he would not be able to leave if he lingered any longer, Emperor Guangde hurried away, not daring to look back at her expression.