The Eldest Daughter Returns with Power

Sparks flew from the charcoal brazier in the East Palace. Gongsun Ruotang stared at the dancing flames, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the edge of her breastplate. This armor, which Si Yunchen had disliked as "bulky," now lay quietly on the table, a grain of northern frontier sand still embedded in the knife mark on the shoulder plate.

"Princess!" Tang Qiu burst through the palace doors, clutching a snow-covered letter tube in her arms. "An urgent message, traveled 800 li!"

Gongsun Ruotang's hand, as steady as when she used acupuncture to save lives, cut open the wax seal, but the edges of the letter curled from the smoke of the charcoal fire as she unfolded it. Si Yunchen's handwriting looked like it had been chased by a wolf, the last stroke almost piercing the paper: "I will definitely return in the twelfth lunar month; the nuptial wine I owe you should be warmed up."

"Liar." She sneered, clutching the letter, but the red glow of the embers reflected in her eyes. "You promised to bring the head of the Northern Rong King as a betrothal gift..."

Before he could finish speaking, Nangong Sheng burst in carrying a blood-dripping cloth bag: "Junior sister, inspect the goods!" The bag opened, revealing a head frozen solid, with frost still clinging to its beard.

Gongsun Ruotang kicked her head into the charcoal brazier, flames shooting up to the roof beams with a "whoosh": "Splash water on the messenger to wake him up. I need to know about the Crown Prince's injured left hand..."

"Your Majesty!" The messenger, enveloped in snow, knelt on the ground. "General Gongsun has captured the Northern Rong High Priest alive, and His Highness the Crown Prince has already withdrawn his troops..."

With a "thud," the teacup in Gongsun Ruotang's hand shattered on the crackled glaze floor tiles. She stepped over the scattered shards of porcelain, oblivious to the fact that her embroidered shoes were torn. Her bloodstained footprints snaked from the palace gate to the old plum tree in the courtyard.

“The twelfth lunar month…” She plucked a half-withered plum branch, her fingertips pricked by thorns, drawing blood. “Today is the twenty-third of the twelfth lunar month.”

Suddenly, all the bronze crane candlesticks in Chenghuan Hall went out, and the twelve carved windows rattled loudly in the north wind. Gongsun Ruotang groped in the darkness for the rosewood chair that Si Yunchen often sat in. There were still scratches on the back of the chair from his fingernails—that day he had insisted that the dragon carvings were uncomfortable to hold.

"Light the lamps." Her voice was colder than the snow outside the palace.

Twenty-four eunuchs filed in, but the tinderbox wouldn't light the oil-soaked wick. Gongsun Ruotang snatched the candlestick and smashed it against the pillar, denting the gilded peony pattern: "Bring me my dowry chest!"

Thirty gilded rosewood chests were flung open. She personally dismantled the phoenix crown strung with a hundred South Sea pearls, which crackled and popped into the charcoal brazier, releasing phosphorescent flames with a sweet, metallic taste. The firelight illuminated the gleaming dagger in her hand—the very one she had tucked into the hidden compartment of her breastplate the night before Si Yunchen's departure for war.

"Your Majesty!" Gongsun Lin burst through the palace doors, ice shards falling from his shoulder armor. "Your Majesty, I escorted the Crown Prince's carriage to the Vermilion Bird Gate..."

Gongsun Ruotang's dagger flew from her hand, grazing Gongsun Lin's ear and embedding itself in the door frame. Barefoot, she stepped over the pearl-strewn floor, a trail of blood stained with charcoal ash trailing behind the hem of her wedding dress: "If he dares to come back lying down, I'll nail him to a coffin!"

Before the Vermilion Bird Gate, Si Yunchen leaned against the carriage shaft with one arm, his left hand, wrapped in bandages, visible beneath his black cloak. Gongsun Ruotang, separated from him by ten feet of snow, suddenly grabbed a snowball and threw it at him: "Your right hand is useless too? Can't you get out of the carriage by yourself?"

Si Yunchen dodged the snowball by turning his head, fresh blood seeping from the gaps in his bandages: "The breastplate the madam gave me is too heavy..."

Before she could finish speaking, Gongsun Ruotang had already lifted the carriage curtain. The stench of blood mixed with the smell of rotting flesh hit her, and her pupils contracted sharply—seven sealed ceramic jars were piled up in the carriage, each engraved with the wolf head totem of the Northern Rong nobles.

"The hearts of the seven elders of the Northern Rong Royal Court." Si Yunchen placed the hand warmer into her icy palms. "You said you wanted to use it for testing medicine."

Gongsun Ruotang swung the brazier at the earthenware pot, cracking it open and letting black blood gush across the carriage floor. Amidst the nauseating stench of blood, she suddenly laughed: "Si Yunchen, the gold-threaded peonies lining your armor... the petals are embroidered backwards."

Snowflakes fell into her open collar. Si Yunchen tore open the bandage with his teeth, revealing a peach wood hairpin tightly held in his palm. The hairpin head was engraved with the crooked character "Tang," which Gongsun Ruotang had carved with an arrowhead in the military tent that night after melting the gold thread on the phoenix crown.

"On the beams of the Northern Rong king's tent, I carved some words with this hairpin." His breath brushed against her icy eyelashes. "Want to guess...?"

Gongsun Ruotang bit his bleeding fingertip: "If you utter another word, I'll make sure you never speak again."

In the dead of night, the copper basin in the Imperial Medical Bureau was filled with blood three times. Gongsun Ruotang gripped Si Yunchen's left wrist, the silver needles gleaming coldly in the candlelight: "If you don't reconnect the meridians soon, this hand will truly be ruined."

"It's good that it's ruined." Si Yunchen pulled at her belt with his right hand. "From now on, you'll feed me..."

The silver needle pierced his acupoint with a sudden movement, and his remaining words turned into a muffled groan. Gongsun Ruotang wrapped the blood-stained bandage back around his hand: "Tomorrow is the sacrificial ceremony; I want you to personally light the Northern Rong battle flag."

As the gong sounded at dawn, Si Yunchen suddenly grasped her hand as she applied medicine: "That night at Eagle Falling Gorge, I carved 'Su Yunruo, come home for dinner' on the cliff face."

Gongsun Ruotang smashed the medicine bottle against the screen, the sound of shattering glass startling the crows under the eaves. She grabbed his collar and pulled him towards her, but when their lips touched, she tasted a salty bitterness—someone's tears had melted the bloodstains on her lips.