Page 113 of Empire's Curse

She never stayed and fought. Never looked for another way.

But the thought of returning to the palace was too painful, too raw. She didn’t know what to say to Muyang, what to tell him, what to feel when Yanlin would inevitably be by his side. It was made worse by the fact that he didn’t even bother to bring her back to the palace. He had allowed her to run.

“Do you love him?”

She had never thought she would fall in love again after Heng. But she had somehow fallen harder for Muyang. Whereas her love with Heng had been sweet and simple and happy, her romance with Muyang was tumultuous, fast, chaotic, and full of passion. Full of longing. Full ofthrill.

She loved the way his voice sounded. Loved the way he laughed. The way he captured everyone’s attention with a single glance. She loved the way he made her feel—like she was something towant. That she was beautiful and worthy.

She wanted to learn so much more about him. About his past. About what shaped him to be the way he was. About … everything.

She wanted so much out of this marriage.

“Yes, I love him,” she whispered. “But it changes nothing. He’ll still be with other people?—”

“Did he say that?”

“What?” Daiyu shook her head. “No, but it’s obvious he will. Why else would he choose Yanlin? And besides, he’s the emperor?—”

“What if he chose her to light the lantern just because of her father? You won’t really know until you ask him, but it’s not like he’s chosen her as a wife or concubine yet. And has he told you that he’ll take on more women? Emperor Zheng Feng Mian never took another wife, so it’s possible?—”

She was already shaking her head. “But his wife was thedragon empress and the rightful heir to the throne. I don’t compare?—”

“It doesn’t matter. As the emperor, it’s his decision on whether he wants to marry multiple women or not. Have you asked him what he wants?”

Her shoulders sagged. “No.”

Lanfen continued to stare at her. She sighed, loud and long, and wrapped an arm around Daiyu’s shoulders, squeezing tightly. “I’m not here to tell you how to live your life, Daiyu. At the end of the day, I just want you to be happy. So do whatever you think is best for you.”

“I … thank you.”

She laced her hands together on her lap and stared down at the wriggling bugs in the holes where the beets had been, and then at the piles of vegetables between them. Her heart felt too heavy to do anything.

She loved Muyang, but was she ready to go back to the palace and face him? To face the humiliation he had cast upon her? Wasn’t it his job to run here and beg for forgiveness? Was it even appropriate for her to go back there now? A small part of her had wanted him to come rushing to the farm and beg for her to return to the palace—it was the only reason she hadn’t made her family pack up and leave just yet.

Yes, she always fled from her problems, she realized that now, but her ego was bruised and battered. She couldn’t just … return, could she?

But she had never fought for anything seriously in her life. Even before Heng’s death, she had just passively let everything happen. She had allowed him to go to war even though she hadn’t wanted him to. She had allowed everything to go whichever direction without her input and had run away at every tiny disruption.

She couldn’t run away from Muyang. She had to face him, she had to march back in the palace and demand his apology. Demand him to explain himself, and then make the decision of whether or not to stay with him. She had totrysomething.

“You know what …” She turned to her sister sharply, steeling her resolve with every second. “You’re right. I can’t just leave things off like this. I’m going to go back.”

Lanfen smiled. “I’ll support whatever you decide to do.”

She jumped to her feet. “I’ll be back, Lanfen. Wait for me!”

She didn’t wait for a response as she rushed back into the house, eager to return to the palace.

39

The rideback to the palace was expectedly faster than when she had made the first trip—back when she was rushing over to rescue Lanfen. The first time around, she had walked and it had taken over a week and a half. But this time, after hitching a ride with one of her neighbors who was headed in the same direction, it only took three days to reach the capital.

Clad in one of her pale-sunflower-colored summer dress and her woven sandals, it was no wonder none of the guards recognized her. They laughed when she told them she was the wife of the emperor, and even after telling them multiple times, they still didn’t let her go through.

“Look, I’m telling the truth,” she began for what felt like the millionth time. She placed a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes at the guards, who peered down at her through the slats of their metal helmets with thinly veiled annoyance.

“It was funny the first few times,” one of the guards said, narrowing his eyes, “but now it’s just getting old. Scram, or we’ll toss you in the dungeons.”

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