Chapter 1

In the Capital Prefecture it was the second month, and the Spring Examination had just begun.

Candidates from every province had set out the previous autumn, hurrying to the Capital Prefecture to await the Metropolitan Examination. Most took lodgings as close to the examination hall as they could; the handful of poorer scholars had to make do with cheap inns on the outskirts or crumbling temples, so the students were scattered rather than gathered in one place. Marriage, moreover, was the quickest and easiest way to leap across the classes in those days, and so it was common for families to "snatch a son-in-law from beneath the roster"—pouncing on a freshly successful candidate—and it was not unheard of for three households to fight over a single man, resorting to all manner of desperate ploys in the scramble for a promising match.

To protect the candidates and to put an end to the disturbances that kept breaking out, the Capital had lately stepped up its patrols. Security within and around the Imperial City normally fell to the Palace Guard Command, but with the Spring Examination upon them and hands in short supply, they had no choice but to call in the Capital Prefecture's Military Patrol Bureau to help.

Zhao Baiyu, who had landed his post in the Capital Prefecture on the recommendation of an elder in his household, was therefore run off his feet. A typical morning found him deploying the Military Patrol Bureau to keep order in the wards; by afternoon he would be racing to the markets to deal with some vicious brawl that had erupted into bloodshed.

By the end of a day like that, he hadn't had a moment even to wet his throat.

On this particular day he finally found himself free, and set off with a food-box to call on his old teacher—only to be turned away by the teacher's gatekeeper boy.

The gatekeeper boy said, "My young master gave strict orders not to let you in to see the old master. He says you never come calling without wanting some favor, and since the old master doesn't know how to refuse a student, it always falls to him—old as he is—to clean up the mess you leave behind."

Zhao Baiyu didn't so much as blush. "A teacher for a day is a teacher for life. I'll always be my teacher's student, so of course I bring my troubles to my teacher! The Sage himself taught us there's no shame in seeking guidance. Besides, my teacher's learning runs deep—one word of counsel from him can settle the whole matter. I'm only trying to learn from him!"

The gatekeeper boy said, "Fine words and a fawning face."

Zhao Baiyu beamed. "Do me the trouble of carrying this box of fried peanuts to my teacher's table, would you? They're his favorite."

The gatekeeper boy said, "The Chen residence accepts no gifts."

Zhao Baiyu pressed the food-box firmly into his hands. "This is a token of my heart—how could you compare it to some vulgar bribe? Oh, that reminds me—" He drew an oil-paper packet from his wide sleeve and held it out to the boy. "A donkey-meat sandwich. I went out of my way to buy it just for you."

The gatekeeper, a boy of seven or eight, stared up at Zhao Baiyu's fair, handsome, smiling face and couldn't help flushing. Taking the food-box and the packet, he stammered, "Th-thank you. But I really can't let you in. The eldest young master said that if I sneaked you inside again, he'd sell the whole lot of us off."

Zhao Baiyu sighed, then smiled. "All right. I've official business to see to anyway. Off you go."

The boy, deeply grateful, then shut the gate.

Zhao Baiyu tucked both hands into his pale blue-green sleeves. There was a scholarly refinement about him, and a warmth as gentle as a spring breeze. Eyes lowered, he walked on—and rounding the corner of an alley, he nearly collided with a woman.

The woman had a kerchief wrapped about her head and a flustered look on her face; clutching at her chest, she got the first word in and berated Zhao Baiyu.

Not wishing to squabble, Zhao Baiyu gave way and apologized again and again.

The woman, perhaps with some errand pressing on her, spat sourly and hurried off. As he was about to leave, Zhao Baiyu noticed a tablet lying on the ground. He picked it up and, looking it over, found it to be an ivory palace pass—the kind palace servants used to come and go from the inner palace. He couldn't help wondering.

Was that woman a palace servant?

If he wasn't mistaken, she had just come out of the Chen residence's back gate. Could she have some connection to his teacher?

His teacher's pupils were spread across the realm; he was a generous, charitable man with no shortage of close acquaintances. Perhaps she was a friend he'd made at the palace, or perhaps someone in his employ was a relative of hers. Still, a lost palace pass was no small matter—at worst it could cost a life. Better to leave it in the little gatekeeper's keeping; if the woman realized she'd dropped it, she was sure to come back and ask the boy.

So thinking, Zhao Baiyu went back and handed the pass to the gatekeeper, then hurried on his way with his head down. On another street he ran into Chen Fangrong—his teacher's eldest son, the very Chen heir who had given orders that Baiyu not be admitted to the house.

Chen Fangrong wore the uniform of an Imperial Academy student, a cloud-patterned jade pendant at his waist—every inch the graceful gentleman, gentle and lustrous as jade. Twenty this year, he had the makings of a top graduate; he had passed the provincial examination at sixteen, only for his father to hold him back another three years of study before consenting to let him sit the Metropolitan Examination this year. He and Zhao Baiyu had been fellow students for those three years.

But Chen Fangrong did not like Zhao Baiyu.

To his mind, Zhao Baiyu was likely a two-faced flatterer, good for nothing but currying favor with his father—a man who in truth coasted on his family's shadow and had not a scrap of talent, hardly a match for the bright, upstanding sons of the Zhao house, and least of all for Fifth Young Master Zhao.

"Senior brother." Zhao Baiyu stopped Chen Fangrong and produced a blessing-slip he'd obtained at Baohua Temple, holding it out. "A lucky charm I prayed for on your behalf the other day at the temple—three kneelings and nine kowtows and all. May you triumph at the first stroke and see your name on the golden roll; may your thoughts pour forth like a spring, as though heaven itself guided your brush; may everything you studied appear on the paper, and every guess you make prove right."

"Finished?" Chen Fangrong's expression was cold.

"Finished."

Chen Fangrong gave a mocking smile. "I just saw a stall in the market piled high with these very charms—same design, same lettering, down to the last stroke. And you'd have me believe you earned this one with three kneelings and nine kowtows? Zhao Baiyu, I don't ask you to be a paragon of talent and virtue—just lie a little less. Your flattery is wasted on me."

Zhao Baiyu rubbed his nose, thinking that the peddlers of the Capital Prefecture grew slicker by the day, churning out Baohua Temple's charms by the batch on the sly. Had they even paid any royalties?

"It's the thought that counts, isn't it?"

Zhao Baiyu stuffed the charm into Chen Fangrong's arms and dashed off. Caught off guard, Chen was left holding it, his face cold; passing the mouth of an alley, he tossed it into the gutter without a second thought.

Zhao Baiyu, of course, never knew his gesture had been thrown away; and had he known, he'd likely have only smiled and let it go. It was hardly the first ill will he'd faced, and Chen Fangrong was far from the only one who bore him a grudge.

Indeed, the harm Chen Fangrong's malice did him was so slight as to be beneath notice.

......

At dusk, Zhao Baiyu ordered a bowl of wontons at a roadside stall, where he overheard a fellow diner say, "There was a bit of fresh news this morning—have you lot heard?"

"Quit keeping us in suspense—out with it."

"Is it that Lady Li of Jinhuan Lane finally lost her three-year reign as the top courtesan to some newcomer? Or some fresh bit of gambling fun?"

"Well, gambling does have something to do with it." The goateed diner wagged his head, holding forth as grandly as if he were passing judgment on affairs of state. "It has to do with the current Chancellor's youngest son—would you believe it?"

Something to do with his little brother, Zhao Yuzheng?

Zhao Baiyu couldn't help his curiosity.

"A few days back, on Quyuan Street, there was a fresh-faced, delicate young woman selling herself into service to bury her father. Fifth Young Master Zhao—soft-hearted as he is toward a pretty thing—spotted her and meant to buy her out on the spot, only he hadn't enough silver on him and sent a servant back home to fetch more. And in that very gap, while the man went and came, the girl caught the eye of the Little Commandery Prince of Lin'an, who bought her instead. Now, for a poor orphan girl to be taken up by a great lord ought to be a stroke of luck—but who in the Capital Prefecture doesn't know that the Little Commandery Prince of Lin'an is cruel by nature? There's no counting the men and women who've died at his hands!"

"The girl wept and wept until she fainted dead away. Now, Fifth Young Master Zhao has the face of an immortal and a bodhisattva's heart to match. Raised from childhood in the lap of luxury—cherished like a treasure by everyone from the imperial family above to the household servants below—he's remarkably free of arrogance. He fell to quarreling with one of the Little Commandery Prince's confidants and, goaded past bearing, spat out: 'Tyrannical and cruel, he cursed his own mother to death and slaughtered his brothers—truly a demon reborn!'"

"Hah!"

Those around him sucked in a cold breath, still shaken, for the Little Commandery Prince of Lin'an had a fearsome reputation and stood high in the army's esteem besides; even His Majesty treated him with special favor and dared not lightly provoke him.

Zhao Baiyu marveled at Zhao Yuzheng's nerve. Even their father, who had risen to Chancellor, dared not lightly offend the Little Commandery Prince of Lin'an—yet here was Yuzheng, jabbing straight at the young prince's sorest point.

Then again, on second thought—Fifth Young Master Zhao was nothing like him, whom the whole world scorned. Yuzheng had no shortage of great personages to back him, and so had no cause to fear giving offense.

Zhao Baiyu went on savoring the gossip.

"And then?"

"The young prince surely wouldn't let it rest—what did he do?"

"The young prince said he'd not lean on his rank to bully anyone—he didn't want to hand the gossips a pretext—so he proposed a wager at pitch-pot, best of five. If the young prince won, Fifth Young Master Zhao would enter the Commandery Prince's Residence along with the girl; if he lost, he'd hand the girl over freely and throw in a hundred gold besides."

"Isn't that just bullying? How could a lowly orphan girl and a heap of gold and silver be spoken of in the same breath as Fifth Young Master Zhao, radiant as the bright moon, precious as gold and jade?"

"Exactly!" The goateed diner slapped his thigh. "Fifth Young Master Zhao went pale with fury—but the young prince only raised the stakes, declaring that if Fifth Young Master Zhao won, he'd throw in the hundred-odd men and women he keeps at his villa as well. Staking those tainted creatures against Fifth Young Master Zhao's own person—it goaded the young master into taking up the challenge on the spot. And the result of the best of five—"

"Fifth Young Master Zhao won?"

"He lost."

"Then... surely he won't actually have to honor the bet? Would Chancellor Zhao ever allow it? Could the young prince truly be so outrageous?"

"The young prince went into the palace that very night to petition for an edict—and His Majesty decreed the marriage. Chancellor Zhao will consent whether he likes it or not, and Fifth Young Master Zhao will wed whether he likes it or not!"

"A marriage decree?! How can a man marry a man?—now that's truly absurd!"

The diners broke into an uproar, sighing and marveling all at once. After this, the young prince's weight in His Majesty's heart must surely climb another notch—that he could have a marriage decreed upon the very youngest son of a pillar minister, just like that.

Could it be true?

Influenced as it was by the liberal customs of the former dynasty, the Great Jing was fairly open-minded in matters of morality—but for a man to actually take a male wife, and by imperial decree no less, was surely going too far.

Zhao Baiyu didn't take the matter to heart. Even if the decree were real, there'd be a whole crowd falling over themselves to see Zhao Yuzheng through the crisis. Others might not know, but did he not know how the Zhao family doted on Zhao Yuzheng? How could they ever stand by and watch him walk into a mountain of knives, a sea of flames?

His belly full, he tossed down a few coppers and ambled back to the Zhao Residence. He had scarcely stepped through the gate when the steward waiting at the back entrance called out to him.

"The master and mistress request your presence."

Chancellor Zhao and Lady Xie? Didn't the two of them wish he'd vanish off the face of the earth? Why would they want to see him?

Full of doubts, Zhao Baiyu made his way to the main hall, where he found the reigning Chancellor Zhao Boyong and his wife, Lady Xie, seated upright in the central seats.

Zhao Boyong, well into his forties, was still a refined and handsome man; Lady Xie retained her grace, gentle in bearing, every frown and smile of hers enchanting—little wonder she had made Zhao Boyong resolve never to take a concubine.

At this moment both wore faces clouded with worry.

Zhao Baiyu bowed with cupped hands. "Father, Mother—for what do you summon me?"

Zhao Boyong's ancestral home was in Jiangzhou. In the thirteenth year of Yuanfeng he had placed first in the Metropolitan Examination and topped the Palace Examination as well—the first "Triple First" top graduate since the founding of the Great Jing. Barely twenty then, slender and elegant, his face like polished jade, he had ridden through the streets in triumph with a blossom tucked in his hair; passing beneath the towers, he captured in an instant the hearts of the Capital's noble daughters—among them the foremost of them all, Grand Princess Changping.

Changping was the Emperor's eldest legitimate daughter and much favored by him. Smitten at first sight with Zhao Boyong, she pursued him relentlessly, insisting on marrying beneath her rank to have him. But Zhao Boyong and Lady Xie were childhood sweethearts, wed in their youth and deeply devoted, and Lady Xie had already borne him two sons—there was no possibility whatsoever that he would cast off his wife or take another woman.

Rebuffed, the Grand Princess would not give up. For three years she hounded Zhao Boyong, heedless of her ruined name and her family's dismay, until by every low means at her disposal she at last got her wish and married him—and forced Lady Xie to petition to be demoted to concubine.

But after the wedding she found herself utterly neglected: Zhao Boyong would not share her bed.

Watching Lady Xie bask in his favor—bearing him a third son and then found to be with child yet again—the Grand Princess, eaten through with jealousy, could not sit still. By sordid means she got herself with child too, her pregnancy falling scarcely more than a month apart from Lady Xie's. The shock of it devastated Lady Xie, who grew lax in managing the inner household; someone seized the opening, and poison was slipped into her daily bowl of pregnancy tonic. By the time it was discovered it was too late—mother and child very nearly both lost.

As it turned out, mother and child both survived; but sadly the youngest boy was born with the poison in him—frail and sickly, hovering for years at death's door, kept alive only through more than a decade of the most painstaking care.

When the matter was later traced, the poisoner proved to be the Grand Princess's own wet nurse. Zhao Boyong, incandescent with rage, burst sword in hand into the Princess's Residence that very night and, before the eyes of the Princess—who had just given premature birth to a baby boy—cut down her wet nurse and her personal maid.

The Princess, terror-struck, fainted where she lay.

With no regard for the bond of marriage, Zhao Boyong went to the palace and accused the Grand Princess of poisoning, of letting her wicked servants seize farmland and beat innocents to death, and of other crimes besides—laying out ironclad proof that left His Majesty without a word to say.

At the time, Emperor Yuanshou remembered how Zhao Boyong had once opposed the late Emperor's move to depose the Crown Prince and had rallied the old ministers to back his own accession—a debt of gratitude he could not forget. Changping, moreover, so lost in her infatuation, had absented herself through the hardest days of her mother's and brother's struggle for power, all but exhausting whatever affection lay between them; and so a rare pang of guilt stirred in both Emperor Yuanshou and the Empress Dowager. Since the marriage had been bestowed by the late Emperor, he could not compel Zhao Boyong to cast her off or divorce her. Instead he stripped Changping of her noble title and rank, leaving her only her honorific name, demoted everything else about her standing by three degrees, and drove her from the Capital, banishing her to Hongzhou in Jiangxi with orders never to return without an imperial summons. Lady Xie he raised to the status of equal wife and granted a lady's patent of honor; and over the years he heaped ever more rewards and favor upon Fifth Young Master Zhao.

With matters thus smoothed over, the storm was at last settled, and one ill-fated union brought to its end.

Told this way, it read like a splendid romance: the hero and heroine bound together for life, the venomous rival-woman making her dismal exit. Everyone got a happy ending—everyone save the premature baby boy who had never been wanted in the world from first to last, cruelly cast aside by his own mother the Princess, and left to bear the resentment and hatred of all, alone.

That baby boy was Zhao Baiyu.

Zhao Baiyu was a transmigrant from the twenty-first century. In his former life he had lain bedridden for more than a decade before at last dying of organ failure; when he opened his eyes again, he found himself an infant who couldn't so much as manage his own eating, drinking, and soiling—and saddled, on top of that, with so tangled a history.

His birth father and his legal mother loathed him utterly.

His legal mother's three sons, old enough by then to understand, had witnessed with their own eyes the Princess's madness and cruelty and had nearly lost their mother and their little brother—and so they hated Zhao Baiyu all the more.

The Emperor and the Empress Dowager—Baiyu's own maternal kin—out of guilt and a wish to make amends, lavished all their grandparental affection on Zhao Yuzheng as though he were their true grandson, and never once spared a thought for the lonely, forsaken Zhao Baiyu tucked away in the back courts of the Zhao Residence.

As for everyone else, they reckoned that like mother, like son: if Grand Princess Changping was as vicious as all that, then her child was rotten at the root too and could hardly turn out any better. And so they looked on coldly, and now and then threw a stone at him where he'd fallen.

Zhao Baiyu's was a hard life.

Yet Zhao Baiyu treasured this extra lifetime all the same—a lifetime with a healthy body.

He was optimistic and resilient by nature—otherwise he'd never have fought his illness for over a decade in his last life, smiling to the very end to comfort his grieving family and his doctors.

Hearts were made of flesh, after all; no one could go on ignoring kindness offered day after day. He firmly believed that one day he would wear their prejudice away.

Zhao Baiyu looked toward Lady Xie. She kept her head down and would not meet his eyes.

Only natural; he understood. Who could feel any warmth toward the son of an enemy?

Especially when, over these nineteen years, Zhao Yuzheng—poisoned in the womb—had hovered again and again on the brink of death, while the enemy's son, Zhao Baiyu, remained hale and whole. How could she not hate him?

Put in her place, he thought—Lady Xie had never had him killed, nor set the servants to tormenting him; she merely ignored him. That was already kind and generous of her.

Zhao Boyong said, "Sit."

Zhao Baiyu took a seat.

Zhao Boyong lifted his tea and took a sip. "His Majesty issued a decree today, bestowing a marriage upon the Zhao house: he has betrothed Fifth Young Master Zhao to the Little Commandery Prince of Lin'an as his consort, the wedding to be held on an auspicious day."

Zhao Baiyu grumbled to himself: what was the use of telling him this? Was he meant to go and congratulate Yuzheng? Do that, and Yuzheng would likely draw a blade and run him through where he stood.

Wait—so the street gossip was true?

Everyone knew the Little Commandery Prince of Lin'an took men and women alike, led a dissolute private life, and was brutal in temperament—capable of any outrage. His taking a male wife was absurd enough; but why should his uncle the Emperor act just as absurdly?

An imperial marriage decree was never anything but a means to check and to divide power. The more one thought it through, the less good it boded.

Zhao Baiyu at once stamped out the curiosity that had just reared its head and, staring at the tips of his toes, mumbled, "The Little Commandery Prince of Lin'an is tyrannical and cruel—hardly a fit husband for Fifth Young Master."

Zhao Boyong did not so much as lift an eyelid. "Prepare yourself. The Zhao house will furnish you a handsome dowry."

Zhao Baiyu's head snapped up. "What did you say?"

Zhao Boyong said, "The Zhao clan's Fifth Young Master—Zhao Baiyu." He set down his teacup and fixed Zhao Baiyu with a sharp, cold stare. "His Majesty has bestowed you as consort to the Prince of Lin'an, the wedding to be held on a chosen day. You are, after all, a member of my Zhao house; even married out, you'll not be shortchanged."

Unable to believe it, Zhao Baiyu shot to his feet, his body trembling in spite of himself. "This is absurd! I am the son of Princess Changping, the fourth son of the Zhao Residence, born half an hour before Fifth Young Master Zhao! Who in all the Capital doesn't know it? It's set down plainly in the household registers. Do you really mean to swap the plum for the peach, to deceive those above and hoodwink those below? Are you not afraid of His Majesty's wrath?"

Zhao Boyong replied, "At the time, the fourth-born came half an hour before you. I pitied him—poisoned in the womb, frail and sickly—and feared that, ranked as the fourth, he would not survive. Recalling a saying from my home country—'the youngest son, a pearl in the palm, is one even ghosts steer clear of'—I took it upon myself to rank him fifth instead."

Zhao Baiyu said, "Afraid that ranking Zhao Yuzheng fourth would cost him his life—but not afraid that I might run afoul of the omen and die a violent death?"

No sooner had he said it than he found his own retort absurd: were the killing of one's own son not an offense heaven and earth would never abide, Zhao Boyong would have done away with him long ago.

"The midwife, the physician, and the maidservant from back then can all testify, and the household registry at the Ministry of Revenue has already been amended. All that remains is to report it to His Majesty." Unmoved by Zhao Baiyu's fury and despair, Zhao Boyong said in a flat, threatening tone, "Zhao Baiyu—don't go making one foolish move after another, the way your mother did."

"Chancellor Zhao's reach extends to Heaven itself. Whatever you care to fabricate, it's all as you say, isn't it?"

Disheartened, Zhao Baiyu could scarcely believe they meant to sacrifice him to save Zhao Yuzheng.

It was Zhao Yuzheng's own showing off that had brought this trouble down—by what right should he be sacrificed to take the fall for Zhao Yuzheng? Did they not know what sort of man the Little Commandery Prince of Lin'an was? Did they not know what would become of him if he were married into the Prince of Lin'an's Residence?

Zhao Yuzheng was a treasure, and he, Zhao Baiyu, no more than a weed?

It was Grand Princess Changping who had wronged them—not the innocent Zhao Baiyu! Not the Zhao Baiyu who, for nineteen years, had tried without cease to thaw the ice, to reach out with goodwill, vainly hoping to live among them in peace!

Zhao Baiyu's lips worked a few times, but in the end the bitter rebuke went unspoken.

"If I remember rightly, the midwife, physician, and maid who delivered me were imprisoned in Hongzhou along with the Princess—while the midwife and Imperial Physician who delivered Zhao Yuzheng both came from the imperial household before its accession. They delivered the current Crown Prince and the princes, and they still serve in the palace to this day—" A glimmer of hope surfaced in Zhao Baiyu's eyes. "You may be able to alter the registry at the Ministry of Revenue, but you can't necessarily order them to bear false witness for you, can you?"

The reigning Emperor governed wisely and frugally, betraying now and again the iron hand of one bent on gathering all imperial power to himself; he would never permit Zhao Boyong to reach into the inner court.

"How could you possibly know all this?"

Zhao Baiyu gave a strained smile. "You forget—I hold a post in the Capital Prefecture. My position lets me look through no small number of old case files."

"Since you know all this, you should understand that I needn't lift a finger myself—there are others who will secure whatever proof Fifth Young Master requires." Zhao Boyong regarded Zhao Baiyu coldly, a flicker of distaste in his eyes; the mere sight of the boy called to mind Grand Princess Changping, a bone lodged in his throat, and loathing rose in him as though he'd swallowed a fly.

"Second Young Master is the Crown Prince's Study Companion; Third Young Master studied alongside the Third and Fifth Princes; and Fifth Young Master is the Sixth Prince's playmate, cherished and doted upon since childhood by the Crown Prince and all the princes, who regard him as a brother of their own blood. Do you imagine they'd stand by and watch Fifth Young Master be sent off to a Commandery Prince's Residence? I'll be frank with you: before His Majesty's decree even arrived this morning, the Crown Prince and the princes had already delivered the midwife and Imperial Physician to the Zhao Residence, and placed in my hands the signed and sealed testimony from their interrogation—bearing, no less, the official seal of the Prefect of the Capital Prefecture."

"Reasonable and lawful, without a flaw—there's nothing even His Majesty can say against it."

Zhao Boyong brushed at his sleeve. "And besides—do you really think His Majesty would ever let Fifth Young Master be married into a Commandery Prince's household?"

Zhao Baiyu's face went white, his slight frame trembling faintly.

The Zhao house was illustrious: Zhao Boyong had risen to Chancellor, helping to oversee the great affairs of the Three Departments and Six Ministries, and his sons were every one either the Crown Prince's Study Companion or a schoolmate of the princes—the eldest and the third serving in the Imperial Guard, the second in the Salt and Iron Commission. Of the state's three powers—military, civil, and fiscal—the family alone commanded a third. Emperor Yuanshou now needed the Zhao house to counter the great clans and balance the factions of the court, while the young and vigorous Crown Prince and princes vied with one another to win the Zhao house's support. The former would not push things to the extreme; the latter would never let slip so fine a chance to draw the Zhao house to their side.

So Emperor Yuanshou, even as he decreed the young prince's marriage, had foreseen that the Zhao house would move to counter it; he would turn a blind eye and, from his lofty seat, watch them match their wiles.

And he—Zhao Baiyu—stood alone and unaided, with no way out alive!

"If you do as you're told and dutifully take this blow in Fifth Young Master's place, you'll remain the Zhao house's Fourth Young Master, and I'll see to it you don't die."

"But I'll wish I were dead."

Zhao Boyong slammed the table and snapped, "Enough of your mother's sharp and spiteful tongue!"

Zhao Baiyu laughed coldly, again and again.

Lady Xie knit her brows and said in a low voice, "Zhao Baiyu—you wouldn't want anything to happen to those close to you, would you?"

Those close to him? A chill ran through Zhao Baiyu. "What have you done to them?"

Three people shared his courtyard: Nanny Xiu, who had raised him; Uncle Wei; and Yanbing, the attendant he had taken in off the street and grown up alongside.

Lady Xie avoided Zhao Baiyu's eyes. "Do as you're told, and I promise no harm will come to them."

"Hmph." Zhao Baiyu gave a scornful, expressionless smile. "Fine. But I have two conditions."

Lady Xie said, "Name them. I'll grant them on my own authority."

Zhao Baiyu said, "Nanny Xiu and the others leave the household with me—and their servile status is struck from the records."

Lady Xie replied, "On the day you are married out, I will go to the Ministry of Revenue myself and have their names cleared from the servile registry."

Zhao Baiyu lowered his eyes. "The other condition I'll name another day."

Lady Xie looked at him long and hard. "Very well." She paused, then added softly, "If you must resent someone, resent me—not Fifth Young Master. This is a debt you and your mother owe him."

Zhao Baiyu couldn't be bothered to argue with them over his original sin. For the first time in nineteen years he turned and left without observing the full courtesies—and at the courtyard portico ran into Zhao Changfeng, just off his shift at the Palace Command.

The eldest son of the Zhao house, Zhao Yuzheng's own elder brother—and Zhao Baiyu's half-brother, sharing a father but not a mother.

His features were stern; he wore a narrow-sleeved robe of red silk gauze cinched at the waist with a leather belt, a rank-pouch of fish-tally hanging from it—all of which set off his tall, striking build. Little wonder he was reckoned, among the gentry of the Capital Prefecture, one of the most sought-after matches for marriage.

Zhao Changfeng was unlike the second and third young masters, who would either needle Zhao Baiyu with barbed words or trip him up to shame him; he simply ignored him, as ever, treating him as though he were invisible.

In no mood for pleasantries, Zhao Baiyu didn't bother with a greeting and walked straight past Zhao Changfeng—only to be called to a halt. He turned back, startled, and heard Zhao Changfeng say in a flat, threatening voice, "Don't think of running. There are men I know in every cavalry unit of the Imperial Guard."

Zhao Baiyu's eyes stung hot; he clenched his fists, his chest heaving, and could not keep himself from demanding, "In your eyes—is Zhao Yuzheng the only brother you have?"

Zhao Changfeng's gaze was deep and still as unrippled water. "If not for you, Princess Changping would never have risked harming Mother—nor left Fifth Young Master frail from the cradle."

The truth, spoken plainly, pierced Zhao Baiyu's heart like an arrow. He knew well enough that the Zhao family had no use for him; he had long grown used to malice beyond counting. And yet, after nineteen years of living among them, of striving to thaw the ice and offer goodwill and receiving not the least response in return—only malice thick as ink—he could not help his disappointment.

Zhao Baiyu backed away, step by step. The whole of the Zhao Residence, the whole Imperial City, had become a dreadful cage. All those men of rank and power—high officials and great generals, imperial kin and noble relations—each of them treasured Zhao Yuzheng like a jewel in the palm, scheming on his behalf, terrified he might be hurt; before the marriage decree had even reached the house, a whole throng of them had rushed to spread the word and heave aside, one by one, the boulders in his path.

And him?

He was a sinner nailed fast to his guilt from the moment of his birth—one who deserved to be sacrificed.

In a daze, Zhao Baiyu paid no heed to the steps beneath him; he missed his footing and tumbled down dozens of stairs, hitting the ground with a heavy thud, his forehead striking hard against a white jade pillar. In that instant the world went dark, and countless fragments flashed through his mind.

From the nineteen years he'd spent diligently working to win their affection, hoping to earn sincere family and friends—back to his former life, receiving treatment in the hospital, idly opening, out of boredom, a doting-cast BL novel the young nurse had recommended.

The contents of that novel, which he ought long since to have forgotten, turned all at once vivid with the blow; the black block-print characters became one living image after another, crammed by force into his head.

Stunned for a long moment, in the instant before he blacked out, Zhao Baiyu wore the look of a man who'd swallowed ten thousand flies.

Goddammit!

So it wasn't that he'd crossed into another world—he'd fallen into a book!