Hands Covered with Cinnabar and Draped with Buddha Gauze

I am the princess of Ning'an who is famous in the capital. I have a bodhisattva heart and is praised by all people. Only I know the truth behind this perfect mask - I was originally a country woman, and I climbed up step by step with blood. The queen raised me, but she didn't know that I was the one who pushed her own daughter into the water. My personal maid discovered my flaw, and the next day she mistakenly took the imperial peony poison and died. But Zhou Qing, the daughter of the new imperial doctor, said that her autopsy conclusion would ruin my reputation. She knelt among the flowers and brushed the peonies that poisoned her grandma to death with her fingertips: "My queen, do you want to form an alliance?" I helped her up with a smile, and inserted the silver hairpin in my sleeve directly into her heart. "In my entire life, I hate slaves who rebel against my master the most." When the flower hoe fell, mud stars splashed on the hem of my white clothes. After all, the Royal Garden is so big that no one will notice if another insider is buried. In April in Chang'an, the lingering sound of the morning bell of Huguo Temple is still flowing among the eaves, and the smell of wind and incense is already heavy in the air. I was sitting in the car with a red lacquer canopy and a canopy of incense on the way back to the palace. The curtains were lowered, but they could not block the roar of the mountains outside the car, which was like a tsunami of worship. "The princess has a bodhisattva heart!" "Living Bodhisattva! Princess Wan'an!" The praise was louder than the previous one, and it was so hot that it was like boiling oil poured on the golden and jade-carved prison of the Forbidden City, and it was also ironing my skin wrapped in brocade. Through the cracks in the car window, I glimpsed countless prostrate backs on the roadside, and the dust was choking. They worshiped the legendary orphan girl whom Princess Rong bought with her life, the pearl raised by the queen, the talented and compassionate Ning'an Princess. The corners of my lips curled up in an almost imperceptible arc, half-smiling, but my fingertips slowly passed through a cold silver hairpin in my sleeve. On the small lotus stamen on the hairpin head, a very deep dark red color has soaked into the texture, like a living thing, tenaciously attached to the pure silver. When you touch it with your fingers, there is no warmth, leaving only a cold and sticky feeling - Zhou Qing's blood. The journey back to the palace seemed to take an extremely long time, enough for the remaining touch to penetrate into the bone marrow. The chariot stopped in front of the majestic palace gate. The chariot road was as deep as an abyss, with no end in sight. The heavy sound of the palace door opening was like opening the hungry throat of a giant beast. I held the hand of the maid Biyu as I stepped out of the car. The brocade clothes on my body were complicated, and the pearls and jade were shining. Every step I took was firmly on the new scarlet palace carpet. The skirt of the skirt brushed through the dust and did not cause any dirt. "His Highness is back." Eunuch Liu, the eunuch in charge of Cining Palace, came up to greet him. He bowed deeper and his old face smiled like dried orange peel. "The Queen was still saying just now that she was afraid of the hard journey to Huguo Temple, which surprised His Highness. For dinner, we prepared sweet Tremella and Snow Pear Soup, saying it was to moisturize Your Highness." I nodded slightly, a trace of just the right amount of tiredness appeared on my face at the right time, and my voice was as soft as the spring water blowing through the willows: "Thank you, Eunuch Liu, for remembering me and reporting back to my mother. Everything is fine in Ning'an, but... Looking at those poor people, I can't help but feel depressed." As I spoke, my eyebrows furrowed slightly, and the dignity of a royal noblewoman was mixed with just the right amount of compassion. It was a masterpiece I had practiced thousands of times. Eunuch Liu's eyes immediately added a bit more respect: "The princess is kind-hearted, she is truly a living Bodhisattva. But please take care of your jade body." He stepped forward to lead the way. After passing through a series of strict palace restrictions, the guards and maids along the way all lowered their heads and held their breaths. They lowered their heads deeply before making eye contact. They were as respectful as treating the golden body in the temple holding flowers and drooping eyes. Only I know what lies beneath this praised face. On that winter day ten years ago, shortly after Princess Rong passed away, she was on the official road leading to the capital. Two little girls wrapped in coarse cloth and shivering from the cold were huddled in a ditch covered with grass and rocks. The girl who was wearing a slightly more respectable dress was lowering her head and playing with a piece of inferior jade pendant she picked up from somewhere, her little face turned red in the cold wind. I looked at the half piece of warm dry food exposed under her clothes, and my stomach burned with hunger, like countless cold steel needles stirring the bone marrow. My body moved faster than my thoughts, and hunger made all my strength rush toward the only light. I pounced on it and snatched it fiercely. "Give it back to me!" She was caught off guard, screamed, and instinctively pushed me hard. Underfoot was slippery river bank gravel covered with thin ice, steep and slippery. In the chaos, a short and frightened "Ah——" sounded like a blade of grass blown by the wind. Then there was the dull sound of heavy objects falling into the water, followed by a shrill splash of water. The cold river water swallowed up the little figure in an instant, and only a few desperate bubbles bubbled to the surface. The river wind blew on my face like a knife. I clutched the half piece of rough, musty pancake that I had snatched away, and my fingertips hurt from pinching it. The taste of the pancakes was mixed with cold fear. I stuffed it into my mouth in big mouthfuls, choking until my throat hurt, and I couldn't even taste it. A corner of the small blue cloth package left behind when I pushed it on the shore spread out, and several yellowed documents with names soaked in water were exposed. I stared blankly at the vague handwriting on the document: "Ning'an... County... Lord...", And then looked down at the half-eaten cake in my hand. The heart beat like a drum in the chest and hit the ribs, once and again, so heavy that it almost jumped out. The words "Princess Ning'an" on the document were like a hot iron, burning my eyes. A name, a shocking scam, took root from the coldness and death on the bank of the deserted river, with the smell of blood and earth. Later, when I was freezing and unconscious by the glacier, I was discovered by the royal guards who were searching for the little princess. I was unconscious, but I was tightly clutching the jade pendant with my identity engraved on it - the jade pendant that was stained with glacier mud and the body temperature of another girl before she died. No one remembers the details of the real princess's appearance. The queen lost her beloved sister and best friend, and when she saw the "lost" royal personal jade pendant, she took me back to the splendid palace, dying from the cold. Ten years in the palace, a thousand-layered brocade network. Under the honor and favor of this "orphan girl", every step is an abyss. Make the slightest mistake and you will be shattered to pieces. When the car parked outside the gate of Kunning Palace, dusk had set. The layers of glazed tiles blended into the thick blue-purple sky. The fairy beasts on the corners of the eaves were coated with a layer of dim gold, overlooking the courtyard in silence. A burst of overly sweet floral fragrance suddenly penetrated the nostrils forcefully on the wind. It was so fragrant that it even overshadowed the elegant sandalwood fragrance that was usually found in Kunning Palace. Clusters of huge deep purple and almost black peonies bloomed in full bloom, like monsters that were forcibly given birth to. The flower disks pressed heavily on the dark green branches and leaves. Each petal was swollen to the point of being coquettish, and the strange fragrance almost condensed into substance, sticking sticky to the exposed skin. This is the exotic "Black Jade Pavilion" that was given by the emperor himself the year before last and is said to have been obtained with a lot of money from the Western Regions. My gaze was like a slippery snake, quietly sweeping over the patch of new soil at the base of the flower bush that seemed to be moister, darker and softer than elsewhere. A few days ago, the old woman who had been with the queen for twenty years and whose eyes were as sharp as probes was "overwhelmed with surprise" and drank the "calming tea" made with this precious peony nectar, and died in her small room that night. The imperial medical office's test report was written politely: old and frail, suddenly blessed by grace, suddenly suffering from heart disease. Eunuch Liu's voice of apologetic laughter rang in his ears: "The Moyu Pavilion is opening really well. The Queen Mother even sent someone to see it this morning. She was very happy. She said that it was... The blessing of our princess's good fortune and longevity that made it so prosperous..." He paused and lowered his voice, "It's just... It's a pity that Granny Chen doesn't have this blessing..." There seemed to be a sigh in the old, muddy eyes, but more of a kind of accustomed numbness. "Mommy," I said with a gentle curve on my lips and lowered my eyelashes, covering all the slightest waves, "she is the most kind and nostalgic person around my mother. Maybe... God took pity on her suffering in her early years and summoned her to the blessed place early, which is also a relief." The tone was soft and sad, as if she really prayed for the disappeared soul. When entering the inner hall of Kunning Palace, candles were first lit in the hall, and the candlelight covered the golden brick floor, making people dizzy. The queen was leaning on the low rosewood couch, twisting a bunch of white jade bodhisattva in her hand. When she saw me, an almost doting smile appeared on her face. Her eyes were soft and there was no trace of doubt at all: "Ning'er is back? She looks tired, sit down and rest." "Mother." I stepped forward, meekly leaned beside the footrest, and took her well-maintained hand. The hand was warm and soft, like warm jade. I raised my head and let the soft candlelight in the hall reflect on my face. Every inch of my expression was soaked in the warm light and seemed harmless: "I have just seen too much suffering in the world, and my heart is uncomfortable. If I can stay at my mother's knees for a long time and pray for the empress every day... My little thoughts are nothing." The words are sincere, and the priority of every word is extremely precise. After ten years of polishing, it has already become an instinct engraved in the bone marrow. During dinner, there was indeed crystal clear and moist Tremella and Snow Pear Soup on the table, which was refreshing and refreshing. The shadow of the candle flickered, and the Queen chattered some homely gossip. I bowed my head respectfully, and the spoon occasionally hit the wall of the bowl with a thin, sweet white glaze, making a very slight "ding". This subtle sound was like the awakening of a distant voice, and another bowl suddenly flashed through my mind. Even rougher are the large stoneware bowls that can be seen everywhere. What's inside is also soup. The bowl of soup was heavy in the hands, with an unsettling scorching temperature, as if it was holding a dancing will-o'-the-wisp. Many nights ago, I mixed the carefully prepared powder - the juice with a unique bitter smell squeezed from the root bark of the "Black Jade Tower" - into the tea in the bowl. The light and shadow in front of the couch were dim, and Grandma Chen's old, turbid eyes were sunken, like two ancient wells that were about to be dried up and buried by the years. Her withered hand grasped my hand: "Xiaojun..." Before the vague and hoarse breath could condense into form, it was blocked by my other hand that was holding the medicine bowl steadily. The last light in her eyes quickly extinguished, turning into a frightening ice field, and then a deathly silence as thick as ink sank completely, leaving not even a ripple of struggle. "Your Highness? Why did you stop taking the spoon?" The Queen's concerned voice came from a century away. I suddenly came back to my senses, and the fingertips holding the silver spoon turned slightly white from the exertion. A naive smile with admiration immediately appeared on his face, and he raised his eyes to meet the Queen's inquiring gaze. There was no flaw in it: "Mother, this soup is really well cooked and very sweet. I was distracted for a moment, just greedy for this moment of fresh taste." After saying this, he scooped up a spoonful of crystal white and put it into his mouth. The ice slid smoothly over the tip of his tongue, but he could not suppress the smell of rust rising deep in his chest. The night was like ink that was too thick to melt away, pouring heavily over the palace garden, making people breathless. The palace lantern outside the red window swayed a few times in the night wind, and the shadow of the lamp moved uneasily, pulling out changing shadows on the window lattice and the cold gold brick floor. The palace door opened silently, and a ray of candlelight flowed from the crack of the door to the ground. Jasper's figure slipped in quietly, like a fish sneaking at the bottom of the night river. With very light steps, she came closer and leaned towards my ear. The air flow blew over her temples, bringing with it the coolness of night dew and a trace of imperceptible tension: "Your Highness." I didn't even raise my eyelids, my eyes were glued to the open volume of "The Female Ring" in my hand. The thin brocade pages glowed with a cool luster, but the handwriting was blurred one by one. The flickering candlelight reflected the uncertain expression on her face. Her voice was so low that it was almost just her breath, and every word was like a pebble soaked in well water, hitting the silence heavily: "Zhou Qing... The imperial doctor's daughter... Said she has something important to ask to see His Highness." She paused, held her breath, and almost squeezed out the second half of the sentence through her teeth, "She said... It's about Grandma Chen." The candle flickered suddenly and violently, and a lantern exploded. Then it returned to silence, swaying and jumping silently in the lamp, making the palace more and more as silent as an abyss. The word "Zhenjing" written in ink on the "Girl's Ring" suddenly pierced into the eyes, so sharp that it could draw blood. His fingertips curled up almost imperceptibly, and he pinched the edge of the book tightly. After a while, my face was already filled with the moonlight of Pinghu. I just lazily turned my head slightly and looked at Biyu's lowered eyes. My voice was neither high nor low. It seemed calm and just enough for her to hear clearly. Every word was full of meaning. With an indifferent laziness: "Oh? Let's go and take a look. It's so late at night that it disturbs my interest in reading." His fingertips lightly brushed his temples, brushing away a trace of loose hair that didn't exist. Biyu hurriedly bowed in response, her head lowered, like a grass that fell in the strong wind. The small garden in the back garden of Kunning Palace was shrouded in darkness, leaving only a thick black outline. The fragrance of tuberose floats in the damp and cold night air, wisps of it, so sweet that it is almost suffocating. Several stone lanterns were isolated on the edge of the path. The large orange flames in the lanterns struggled tenaciously in the night wind passing through the courtyard. The light was weak and thin, barely illuminating the surrounding area for a few steps and outlining the path, but it was unable to penetrate the deeper darkness. Where light and shadow intersect, those carefully trimmed exotic flowers and trees seem to have turned into grotesque giant beasts, dormant silently. I was alone, walking slowly along the gravel path. The skirt trailed over the tiny pebbles on the ground and the occasional moist grass, making an extremely subtle, almost hallucinatory rustling sound. Passing around a clump of ink jade peonies that bloomed too loudly, the dark purple flowers that became more and more intense in the night could not be seen clearly in the dim light, but the rich, sweet and corrupt fragrance came to my face and occupied my nose domineeringly. In the deepest part of the flower shadow, the moonlight sparsely cast a ray of light as pale as tin foil, which just illuminated the person standing at the end of the stone path. It's Zhou Qing. The imperial hospital sentenced Zhou Zheng's only daughter. She wore a lotus-colored armor that was common among palace maids, her hair was neatly pulled up, and she stood there with a low eyebrow, her figure almost blending into the rich shadow of the peonies next to her. The weak light struggled to push through the thick darkness around her, illuminating half of her cheeks - her skin color was pale as if she hadn't seen the sun for a long time, but the tight lines of her jaw revealed a stubborn strength. Her breathing seemed very light, blending silently into the night wind, making almost no sound audible. This flower bush is a forbidden area that the palace people will not easily set foot on. The air was as stagnant as congealed grease. "It's so late at night, why do you want to see Ms. Zhou?" My voice rang out in the quiet night, calm and waveless, wrapped in just the right amount of tiredness, like a round jade bead, gently thrown into the deep pool. Zhou Qing's shoulders shook slightly, as if he was disturbed by the sudden sound. She slowly raised her head. The pale face was completely bathed in the dim and flickering light of the stone lantern, and the corners of his eyebrows and eyes were filled with some kind of desperate determination. "Your Highness, forgive me." She knelt down and saluted meticulously, her skirt brushing against the dew-laden pebbles. "You deserve to be disturbed from your Highness's sleep." Her voice was low and clear, with the usual respect that should be used when replying to nobles, but there was a tight hard core hidden underneath, like a string that was strummed to the extreme. She didn't get up immediately. His eyes quickly swept across the overwhelmingly thick darkness around him, and then he retracted it as if he had been burned by charcoal fire. He fell back to the ground and stared at the few jade peonies in front of him. The dense leaves glow with a smooth dark green luster in the dim light. "Slave enters the palace." Her voice was lowered, almost breaking in the airflow, with a deliberate sign of weakness, but faintly pointing to a frozen core, "Thank you for your great care, Your Highness, I dare not forget it. It's just..." She paused slightly, her throat He rolled it very slightly, as if he was swallowing something hard, "Recently... I was sorting out the old medical records, and accidentally came across the pulse record of a patient that my late father had diagnosed... The symptoms and the things used were actually related to something in the imperial garden recently..." The last few words scattered lightly in the wind. She stopped talking and just slowly raised a skinny hand. The fingertips stretched forward extremely slowly, hovering over a huge flower in front of them that was in full bloom and seemed to be condensed with ominous blood. Intention: When false identity becomes the only reality, when sin becomes the ladder of survival, how does a person complete the dark transformation from a chess piece to a chess player in the ultimate whirlpool of power, and finally face the inescapable abyss created by his own hands.