Volume One, Chapter One: Enlightenment

“Miss Yu, you made a mistake on the Hundred Longevity Scroll presented to the Empress Dowager. She is furious—you are truly beyond forgiveness!”

In the prison within the palace of Yan, a sharp, shrill voice echoed from a young eunuch, addressing the trembling, slender figure kneeling before him.

Shi Zhao still wore the splendid attire she had prepared a month ago for the Empress Dowager’s birthday celebration, but the garments were now stained with filth, making it impossible to tell whether she was a noblewoman or a beggar.

The young eunuch continued, “Miss Yu, the Empress Dowager asks—do you admit your mistake?”

Do you admit your mistake?

Shi Zhao’s head hung heavy, her gaze fixed on her bruised and bleeding hands, lost in a daze.

She had been a wandering orphan from a small mountain village. One day, a luxuriously dressed, beautiful woman rushed before her, weeping, claiming Shi Zhao was the lost second daughter of Marquis Wen’an, Yu Xuan-yao.

She was accepted as kin, entered into the family register, and became the most pampered, proud girl of the capital.

Until the real Yu Xuan-yao appeared. Only then did Shi Zhao realize it had all been a fleeting dream.

She tried to leave quietly, but the Wen’an Marquis’s household refused. They promised to treat her like their own, that their home would always be hers, if only she changed her name to Yu Si-yao.

She believed them.

But a month ago, at the Empress Dowager’s banquet, the Hundred Longevity Scroll presented by the Wen’an Marquis’s family contained a mistake. Faced with the emperor’s and empress dowager’s wrath, the family pushed Shi Zhao forward.

“Yu Si-yao may be young, but to be so careless with the Empress Dowager’s birthday gift is utterly disrespectful!”

“I heard Yu Si-yao isn’t of the marquis’s blood, just some wild girl from the countryside—no wonder she’s so foolish.”

“That’s right, she brought this disaster upon the Wen’an Marquis’s family. It’s a waste they ever raised her!”

With a few words from those high above, Shi Zhao’s fate was sealed, while the members of the Wen’an Marquis’s household stood by in silence.

The scroll was first written in calligraphy by Shi Zhao, then embroidered by Yu Xuan-yao, and finally inspected by the marquis’s wife and the seamstresses before being presented to the palace.

Shi Zhao was certain she had made no mistakes in her writing.

It was Yu Xuan-yao who embroidered the wrong character, and the family failed to check carefully.

Yet it was Shi Zhao who was thrown into the palace prison and endured endless torment.

The Wen’an Marquis’s household knew the truth. Shi Zhao knelt and screamed, begging them, but they remained silent.

Until the palace attendants covered her mouth and dragged her into the prison.

“Miss Yu, I’m asking you a question! Are you mute?” The young eunuch barked, snapping Shi Zhao out of her trance.

Shi Zhao slowly knelt in the direction of the Wen’an Marquis’s household and knocked her head heavily to the ground.

“I know my mistake.”

She truly had erred. She should not have coveted warmth that was never hers, should not have believed in so-called family.

Yu Si-yao was never her name. From now on, she was only Shi Zhao.

---

“Her Majesty is merciful. Considering Miss Yu’s youth, she pardons you this time. Do not betray the Empress Dowager’s kindness,”

The young eunuch lifted his chin, his words elongated, “Miss Yu, the heir to the Wen’an Marquis is waiting outside. Hurry up and leave.”

His tone was full of disdain, as if he were speaking to refuse.

Shi Zhao’s face was expressionless—she was accustomed to such harsh words. Her body trembled as she struggled to rise, bones cracking audibly.

The pain was unbearable, but Shi Zhao locked her eyes on the prison’s main door, where hope of survival lay.

Bracing against the wall, she made her way outside. The blinding sunlight forced her to squint, and she greedily breathed in the air, nearly bursting into tears with joy.

Then she saw, bathed in sunlight, the elegant, white-robed, handsome man—Yu Si-wen, heir of the Wen’an Marquis.

Her elder brother.

The one who had always indulged her whims, who would do anything for her, had personally pushed her away at the Empress Dowager’s banquet.

Shi Zhao’s joy was instantly replaced by anger, tinged with bitterness and grievance.

But soon, overwhelming exhaustion snuffed out all her emotions.

She was too tired, too sore, unwilling to play the game of familial affection any longer.

“Si-yao, how are you feeling?” Yu Si-wen hurried forward, gazing at the dirty little figure with pain in his eyes, reaching out to embrace her.

His gentle fragrance once had been Shi Zhao’s favorite, but now, she instinctively raised her left hand and gently pushed him away.

The scent made her nauseous.

She shook her head. “I am but a commoner and cannot behave so intimately with the heir to the Wen’an Marquis. Perhaps let Zhuqing assist me instead.”

Yu Si-wen’s heart jolted, as if doused with cold water. Disappointed, he said, “Si-yao, what are you saying? I am your brother!”

Shi Zhao kept her head down. “A humble woman dares not.”

Her words were respectful, yet distant and polite.

A surge of anger rose in Yu Si-wen’s chest.

For a month, the entire household had been anxious, fearing Yu Si-yao would perish in the palace. His mother had nearly cried herself blind.

He had visited every friend, tried every method to rescue her, and after receiving word from the palace, had rushed there, heart filled with joy to bring her home.

Yet after all their efforts, Yu Si-yao was so cold—was she holding a grudge against them?

The family had raised her for years, and now in their crisis she was to take the blame—what was there to complain about?

Words of reproach rose to his lips, but seeing Shi Zhao’s haggard, sallow face, he swallowed them, exhaling heavily.

“Fine, since you’ve suffered enough, I won’t argue with you. Let’s go home.”

Behind him, the servant Zhuqing hurried forward, carefully supporting Shi Zhao’s right arm, only to find her wrist limp and bruised.

---

Shi Zhao’s right wrist was broken.

Zhuqing’s eyes widened, about to cry out, but Shi Zhao’s look silenced him.

Only then did he recall they were still in the palace.

Zhuqing looked up for help, but Yu Si-wen had already strode ahead. Zhuqing dared not raise his voice, so he gently assisted Shi Zhao forward.

The further they walked, the more horrified Zhuqing became.

Though the second young lady’s clothes were merely dirty and her face tired, after only a few steps, blood began to seep from the exposed skin at her sleeve.

What had the second young lady endured in the palace prison this past month?

Under the blazing sun, Shi Zhao began to sweat, the unhealed wounds on her body burning with pain. She breathed heavily, gazing into the distance at Yu Si-wen’s back.

He did not look back even once.

“Second young lady, just hold on a bit longer—we’re almost at the palace gates.”

Sweat beaded on Zhuqing’s forehead. Noticing Shi Zhao watching the heir, he felt a strange guilt and tried to defend his master.

“His Highness hasn’t eaten or slept properly for a month, thinking only of how to get you out. Your words and actions now have truly hurt him.”

Shi Zhao only found it laughable.

When Shi Zhao finally dragged herself to the palace gates, Yu Si-wen was already beside the carriage.

Seeing her drenched in sweat, he recalled her coquettish childhood look, his anger stalled, replaced by regret.

“Si-yao, I know you’ve suffered, but can’t you let it go for the Marquis’s household, who raised you all these years?”

Afraid her coldness would wound the family, Yu Si-wen fretted, oblivious to the unnatural flush and sweat on Shi Zhao’s face, rambling on.

“The Marquis’s household cannot withstand the royal wrath. Xuan-yao has always been frail, not to mention Mother’s health. I never participated in the Empress Dowager’s gift preparations. In the rear courtyard, only you remained, raised since childhood so you never even sneezed, and you’re stubborn and unyielding…”

Shi Zhao listened, her numbed heart pricked painfully as memories surged.

Si-yao, though the household mistook you, you’ve enjoyed their care for so long. Please, take the blame for the Marquis’s household.

Si-yao, the Empress Dowager wants you to personally embroider and compare your stitches with the Hundred Longevity Scroll… Don’t blame us for being hard-hearted. If the emperor and empress dowager learn of our deception, it will mean certain death.

The painful cries echoed in the cell, and Shi Zhao, renowned in the capital for her calligraphy and painting, had her right wrist broken.

Grief surged so strongly that she could not contain it—her left hand swung with force.

With a crisp “smack,” she slapped Yu Si-wen’s incessantly lecturing face.