Tale of Yuheng

During the Yuanqi era of the Jing Dynasty, Prince Zhao Heng used a jade hairpin as a token of love and first fell for Princess Minghui amid spring rain and apricot blossoms in the depths of the palace. He was the lonely moonlight in Yaoguang Hall; she was a firefly drifting beside Changxin Palace. They seemed made for each other, yet even their love could not withstand the storms of an imperial household.

From composing poems on red leaves by Qujiang Pool to gathering around the brazier on snowy nights in Ningxiang Garden, one woman after another entered Zhao Heng’s life: the gentle crabapple blossom Su Wanqing, the clear mountain stream Qin Luofu, and the passionate red plum Late Qing. Red cords around their wrists entwined their fates, while the lingering notes of the pipa trembled with parting sorrow. Together, they wove the life of this “Prince Yuheng” into brocade steeped in the scent of osmanthus and marked by tears.

When court intrigues crushed the vows written on peach-blossom paper, and war on the frontier snapped the longing strung along the pipa’s strings, Zhao Heng finally understood: the moonlight in this palace had never truly been whole, just like the chipped jade hairpin in his hand, which held too many regrets over meetings that ended without a word. The red cords scattered throughout the world were destined, in time, to become bonds that crossed the divide between life and death.

Rooted in the elegance of the Song Dynasty and infused with love, this novel tells of love and pain, letting go and holding on, within the walls of the imperial palace, all woven through the scents of plum blossoms and ink. The faces that bloomed and faded beneath the moonlight were like the splendor of the Jing Dynasty: in the end, they became faint traces of ink in the history books, yet left vermilion marks on people’s hearts that would never fade.