"This is what she left behind. It was discovered by Xi Que in Chuxiu Palace by chance. I haven't looked at it, and now I’m handing it over to you."
The year Old Marchioness Yunyang entered the palace to escape the summer heat, Lan Xiaolou was secretly brought into the palace by the Tong Family to perform operas for the noble ladies.
Though the Tong Family thought they had pulled off a flawless scheme, Jiang Xinyue, now the Empress, was well aware of everything that happened within the palace walls.
After all, it was Jiang Xinyue herself who had written a letter to Lan Xiaolou, asking him to play along with her act.
When they met again, Lan Xiaolou immediately realized that the person before him was no longer the woman he once knew.
His beloved Second Lady was ruthless and cold-hearted, her eyes never so gentle and bright.
His Second Lady was sensitive and fragile, like a porcupine that wouldn’t let anyone near her, never so approachable.
Their auras were entirely different.
Yet, no one in the world seemed to notice. Everyone only remembered the current Empress.
Jiang Xinyue handed a small bundle to Lan Xiaolou. "I hope you understand, I had no choice in this matter. It wasn’t something I could control."
The two Second Ladies shared a similar approach to life—both eliminated threats to ensure their own safety.
"This humble subject understands..."
Such an unbelievable situation was beyond human control.
The Second Lady... was not killed by the Empress.
The bundle in his hands felt as heavy as a thousand pounds. Before leaving, the Empress had Xi Que stay behind.
In the palace, Xi Que was the closest person to Jiang Xinyue in the world.
The bundle was slightly dirty. Lan Xiaolou untied the knot, revealing a few items inside.
A pearwood hairpin, carved by Lady Ruan for her when she turned fifteen.
A ghost storybook bought from the market, a gift from her younger brother Jiang Junze when she was eleven.
Half of a fine white jade pendant, shared with her younger sister Jiang Xinyan.
And...
Lan Xiaolou’s hands trembled.
Hidden in the bundle’s inner layer was a piece of white jade cake, wrapped in a pouch, now blackened and hardened.
The pouch was identical to the one he had returned to the Second Lady years ago.
Years of longing and sorrow turned into tears, wrenching his heart with pain.
His breathing became uneven.
He didn’t feel any specific pain, yet it seemed like every part of him ached. He collapsed to the ground, weak and powerless.
His hands clutched the bundle tightly, pressing it against his chest. He cried silently, tears streaming down his face.
The storybook fell to the ground, revealing a half-folded white letter inside.
Lan Xiaolou frantically opened the book, his tears falling onto the paper, nearly blurring the words.
Fortunately, the letter was short, bearing only four words: 【Farewell, my beloved】.
Second Lady... Xinyue... she... she took her own life!!
She had kept the white jade cake Lan Xiaolou had given her. The identity of her beloved was clear as day.
Xi Que, her eyes red, walked behind Lan Xiaolou and snatched the letter. After reading it, she too broke down in tears.
Her lady had deliberately fallen out of favor after her first night with the Emperor, intentionally provoking Concubine Li.
She loved Lan Xiaolou...
It was only after being favored by the Emperor that she realized her heart belonged to Lan Xiaolou.
Sunlight streamed through the carved windows, bathing Lan Xiaolou in its glow, yet he felt nothing but cold.
Only when Xi Que took out a fire starter and burned the letter to ashes did Lan Xiaolou snap out of his trance. He crawled desperately toward the ashes, trying to save what remained.
That... that was his Second Lady’s love for him!
"I’m sorry..."
Xi Que wiped away her tears, forcing herself to stay composed. "Our Empress is Jiang Xinyue, and Jiang Xinyue... is our Empress!"
There was no second Jiang Xinyue in this world, nor could there be.
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She had always found it strange...
Her lady had been so shrewd and calculating in the Jiang Family, often outsmarting the mistress and the eldest daughter in front of the master. How had she become so arrogant and foolish after entering the palace?
Now she understood... her lady had been seeking death all along.
She had known nothing.
And now, Xi Que hadn’t fully grasped that Jiang Xinyue had left her here as a test—to see if she would side with her former mistress or stand by her side.
Though it was cruel to the original mistress, Jiang Xinyue had no choice. She had to eliminate potential risks. She had a child now and couldn’t afford to gamble.
So be it...
Lan Xiaolou carefully gathered the ashes into the old pouch. "As long as you remember her, it’s enough to honor the bond you shared."
What right did he have to demand Xi Que’s loyalty to the Second Lady?
From her demeanor, clothing, and gestures, it was clear that the Empress treated her like a younger sister.
His Second Lady...
She had only ever hurt those around her.
In this world, only he loved every part of her.
Life is like a play, and a play is like life.
Enough...
He would play along with the Empress, hoping that his kindness to her would be repaid with kindness to his Second Lady.
Perhaps, just perhaps, the Second Lady had entered the Empress’s original body?
Even if it was just a slim possibility, he wished for good karma to fall upon her.
After leaving the palace, he would never see the Empress again.
No matter how similar their appearances, no matter how much the world praised her, she was not the one in his heart.
He could never transfer his love to another.
To treat her as a substitute would be an insult to the Empress and to the love of his life.
He should have followed her in death, but to avoid implicating the Empress, he had to live on.
Time passed, years flew by.
Once a renowned opera master, Lan Xiaolou now lived in obscurity, surrounded by the smoke of everyday life.
"Master, you’re staring at that pouch again. It’s worn out. Let me sew you a new one."
The white-haired Lan Xiaolou sat in a small courtyard filled with flowers and plants. A yellowed, tattered pouch hung from a branch, looking out of place.
Little Phoenix Fairy, a rising star in the opera world of the capital, looked at her master with confusion, reaching to take the pouch down.
"Don’t touch it..."
The old man’s voice carried a timeless weight. "Some things are better when they’re new, but others... are best left as they are."
Little Phoenix Fairy didn’t understand, but she respected her master deeply.
In his youth, her master had been a peerless talent, like an immortal descending to earth. Yet he had never married, dedicating his life to the opera. He was her greatest inspiration.
The sorrowful and beautiful scripts he wrote in his later years remained unmatched, cherished treasures of the opera world even decades later.
To have studied under Lan Xiaolou was the greatest fortune of her life.
"Autumn river, a gaze full of falling flowers, the wind sweeps away the last petals, a thousand sorrows, ten thousand idle worries..."
His aged voice no longer held the brilliance of his youth, but it carried a unique charm.
Little Phoenix Fairy smiled. "Master, don’t be sad. I’ve brought you some white jade cake."