The so-called innocent scholar whose vengeful spirit haunted the palace was my beloved—Jiang Wenhai.
When I was seven, a drought struck my hometown. My parents fled with me, but I was the only one to survive the journey to Yucheng. I collapsed at the gates of the Jiang family manor, starving and delirious.
Just as darkness closed in, a shadow ran toward me. It was Jiang Wenhai.
He saved my life, took me in, and nursed me back to health. The Jiang family treated me as their own.
“You don’t need to work,” he’d say, tapping my forehead. “I’ll teach you to read and write.”
He told me, “Never look down on yourself. Even as a girl, you should learn and understand the world to live well.”
His gentle voice was like sunlight, melting the cold from my heart. He smiled with carefree confidence, his eyes bright with youthful ambition.
I grew up in the Jiang household. When I turned fourteen, Auntie Jiang came for New Year’s and mentioned me.
“Qiaolan is a young lady now. Why not let Wenhai take her as a wife? She’ll be cared for all her life.”
Jiang Wenhai had just placed third in the imperial exams, a rising star with a brilliant future. For a girl from the countryside like me, even being his concubine would be a step up.
The room went quiet. The Jiang parents smiled but said nothing. Wenhai smiled gently.
“No,” he said.
My heart sank.
“She’s my childhood friend. When she’s a little older, I’ll marry her properly.”
I looked up, meeting his clear gaze. Auntie Jiang was stunned, turning to his parents.
“Why not?” they said, smiling warmly. “Wenhai’s spoken of this for years. Qiaolan is a good girl.”
Tears welled in my eyes. Loving in-laws, a handsome fiancé—it felt like a dream. At seven, I’d never imagined such happiness.
But dreams shatter in an instant.
A few days later, Wenhai was summoned to the Princess Royal’s palace. He returned that night, trying to hide his injuries, but his clothes were torn and his face scratched.
This happened again and again. Rumors spread that the Princess Royal had taken a liking to the scholar, and he’d refused her advances. She was furious.
I wept as I tended his wounds.
“Does it hurt, brother?”
He squeezed my hand, weary but still smiling.
“I’m the Emperor’s chosen scholar. She won’t dare do anything worse.”
I believed him.
But he was wrong.
On a bright sunny day, I saw his broken body displayed in the city square. He was stripped, beaten, and bloodied. The palace eunuch stood beside him, reading aloud:
“Jiang Wenhai, accused of treason, is sentenced by imperial decree to death by a thousand cuts!”
The crowd whispered that the young emperor was only twelve—surely this was the Princess Royal’s doing.
I was numb, unable to cry, the world spinning around me.
My beloved, once so full of life, now hung limp. His lashes drooped like dead butterflies, his chest barely rising.
Some said his tongue had been cut out.
I would never hear him call me “little sister” again.
Blinded by tears, I ran home to warn the Jiang family, but found the manor surrounded by soldiers and citizens.
Jiang Wenhai’s parents were dragged out, hands bound, faces bloodied from whips.
“Innocent! We are innocent!” they cried.
Before they could say more, the executioner’s blade flashed in the sun.
Their heads fell, right there in the street.
The Princess Royal claimed they too were traitors.
Flames engulfed the Jiang mansion, black smoke blotting out the sun.
I hid in the shadows, biting my lip until it bled, a fire of vengeance burning in my heart.
That fire kept me alive as I fled the city, changed my name, and sought refuge in a Daoist temple. I apprenticed under Master Qingxu, studying day and night.
Two years later, I returned to Yucheng, entering the Princess Royal’s palace as a lowly chamber pot maid.
Chapter 02
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