Five Intimate Glimpses into the Shadows of Power
Extra I: The Imperial Physician's Ledger
Year 1 of Jinghe, Third Month, Seventh Day His Majesty summoned the Grand Physician once again. The reason: Lord Wen'an had worked late into the night reviewing memorials, aggravating an old illness. His cough worsened. His Majesty stayed by his side, brows furrowed, until the pulse steadied. The prescription included Sichuan fritillary. His Majesty specifically ordered the finest from Chuanshu—no substitutions allowed. Lord Wen'an seemed on the verge of protest, but in the end, said nothing.
Year 2 of Jinghe, Twelfth Month, Fifteenth Day Lord Wen'an caught a chill. His low fever lingered. His Majesty canceled court for a day and remained at his bedside. When I arrived to take his pulse, I saw His Majesty awkwardly trying to cool him with a damp cloth—clumsy hands, but focused eyes. In his fevered haze, Lord Wen'an clutched the emperor's sleeve and murmured, "A-Lian…" His Majesty stiffened, then leaned down and whispered, "I'm here." In that moment, all imperial sharpness faded—only tenderness remained.
Year 5 of Jinghe, Autumn Equinox Routine pulse check. Lord Wen'an's pulse was steady and strong; the old illness rarely returned. Only faint red marks remained on his neck, discreetly covered with balm. His Majesty, reviewing memorials nearby, asked casually, "You've looked well lately, my dear minister." Lord Wen'an lowered his gaze. "Thanks to Your Majesty's grace." As I packed my medicine box, I glimpsed a faint smile at the emperor's lips. Such matters lie beyond a physician's station—but I record them here, as proof of peace in a golden age.
Extra II: The Sword Tassel of Qing Ying
(From A Lie's Perspective)
That faded sword tassel has lain beneath my pillow for seven years. I picked it up in secret after the autumn hunt— the day she shielded me from an arrow, and the shaft tore it loose.
Back then, I only knew her as a loyal shadow guard. Her name was Qing Ying.
It wasn't until that reckless night at the border post that I saw the eyes beneath her helmet— usually calm, suddenly flustered, shimmering with emotion.
She always said that night was an accident. A matter of duty. But if it were truly an accident, why do her sword forms carry such unspeakable loneliness? If it were only duty, why did she keep vigil outside my tent all night when I was gravely wounded?
Until the day her body carried our child.
I made her a promise. I petitioned His Majesty for a marriage decree.
She said nothing. Only took the old tassel I had treasured for years and gently tied it to the hilt of my sword.
"General," she said, for the first time holding my hand, her voice barely above a whisper, "Even a shadow… wishes to walk in the light."
So she had always known.
Known about the tassel.
Known about my silent struggle.
Known… that my heart had long since fallen.
Extra III: A Letter Never Sent
(From Murong Che's Perspective)
Teacher, May this letter find you well.
Snow has fallen again in Beijing. It's colder than the capital of Da Sheng. The ink orchid you gave me—I've kept it in the warm chamber. This winter, it bloomed.
The palace servants say it's rare.
Are you well, in Da Sheng? Is he… treating you kindly?
I know I shouldn't ask. You once said: each must walk their own path. Mine is to guard this land you "won" for me—to be a well-behaved puppet.
Sometimes I recall your words when teaching me Go: "Once the piece is placed, there is no regret." Only now do I understand—some games are lost from the very first move, because the hand that plays… has no choice.
I do not resent you. Without you, I would've perished in the palace's blood-soaked games. But sometimes… I remember your back, shielding me from every blade and arrow.
This letter will never be sent. Like all the thoughts I never dared speak, it will be buried beneath this snow.
Take care. —Your unworthy student, Che
Extra IV: The Chancellor's Inkstick
(After Gu Lian and Ai Miao's relationship becomes public)
I've been sitting in my study for half an hour, staring at the imperial inkstick.
It's fine Huizhou pine soot ink—dense, smooth, refined. Just like my son now—tempered, steady, unshakable.
My wife entered quietly, draped a robe over my shoulders. "Still thinking about Miao'er?" she asked softly.
I sighed. "I called him a seducer. Said he shamed the Ai family… But these past three years, he's aided the new emperor, reformed the court, stabilized the borders—every deed for the good of the realm. This inkstick was a reward from His Majesty, for Miao's contributions to the new policies."
"You're all bark," she chuckled. "You were the loudest opponent, yet now you secretly collect every report of his achievements."
My face flushed. "Nonsense!"
My gaze returned to the inkstick. Perhaps it's time I used it to draft a record of Lord Wen'an's life and merits—for the historians.
After all, he is the pride of the Ai family. Even if that pride… came in such a shocking form.
Extra V: A Garden Conversation
(Gu Lian & Ai Miao)
"Why insist on naming me 'Imperial Consort'? I care nothing for hollow titles."
"I care. I want future generations to read the histories and see not just Minister Ai Miao, but my beloved Ai Miao."
"History cuts like a blade. It may tarnish Your Majesty's name."
"Then let it cut deeper. Let them know the Jinghe golden age was built by our hands—yours and mine. Without you, I'd be just another emperor lost in politics."
"…Your Majesty—"
"Call me by name, Ai Miao. Here, there is no emperor. No consort."
"…A-Lian."
(A long silence. Only the rustle of bamboo in the wind.)
"Is it worth it? To stake your reputation for a title?"
"To wager an empire for you— I'd still call it a bargain."