William Carter didn’t really intend to kill anyone. He let go, moved his foot, spat angrily, and said to the madam, “Discipline these women harshly for me. I’m heading to the palace right away.”

“Remember the most important thing,” Madam Lane reminded him.

“I remember, I remember. The Empress—no, now she’s the Empress Dowager. I’ll definitely bring you into the palace before nightfall,” William Carter said impatiently. He started to leave, suddenly stopped, composed himself, made sure he could cry at any moment, and then strode off.

Three

Madam Lane watched her husband leave, then turned around to face the many concubines. “Change into mourning clothes and cry.”

The maids in the residence had already prepared the hemp garments. Hundreds of concubines changed clothes right there in the courtyard; no one dared utter a word of protest.

Madam Lane walked up to Princess Wu and stared at her for a while.

Grace Bennett was still lying on the ground, face down, quietly smiling.

Madam Lane sighed softly. She didn’t like this woman, because her husband doted excessively on the so-called Princess Wu, but she didn’t particularly hate her either, because no matter how much her husband favored her, she was, after all, just someone from a fallen state.

“It’s the Grand General’s fault. He shouldn’t have let everyone call you ‘Princess Wu’. After hearing it so much, you started to believe it yourself and can’t distinguish your current status.”

Grace Bennett lifted her head, a trace of a smile still on her face. “The Emperor was killed by people from Wu, wasn’t he?”

Madam Lane frowned slightly. “You people do nothing all day—you’ve all been spoiled into madness.” The sound of weeping came from behind her. Madam Lane was not satisfied and turned around, saying, “His Majesty raised all the people; you should mourn as if you’ve lost your own father.”

The wailing immediately intensified.

Madam Lane turned back to Princess Wu, but still couldn’t see the proper look of grief on her face. “His Majesty suddenly fell ill a few days ago… Why am I telling you this? Today is just a rehearsal. When the real mourning comes, you can either cry or die—your choice.”

Grace Bennett put away the last trace of her smile and forced herself to stand up. “Let me see him once, just once. I will be grateful to you, madam. I hate the Emperor of Dacheng, I hate the Grand General, but I will be grateful to you for all my lives.”

Madam Lane understood, pondered for a moment, and said, “Go back to your room.”

Four

“He” was a little boy, just six years old, who had always lived with many brothers, called Madam Lane “mother,” and occasionally met with Princess Wu, though he didn’t know how to address her. Usually, he just stood there silently, watching her cry, listening to her ramble, feeling both sympathy and annoyance.

Today was an exception. Princess Wu actually had a smile on her face. “Chu’er, you’ve grown taller. How many characters have you learned? Can you write your own name? Are you eating well? Is anyone bullying you?”

Six-year-old Charles Carter replied with a few hums, hoping this meeting would end soon.

Grace Bennett said a lot, and only when the maid at the door urged her did she have to stop. She cupped the reluctant little face in her hands and whispered, “You are my son. Your surname is not Lou, it should be Xu. I am Princess Wu, and you are the grandson of the Emperor of Wu…”

Charles Carter broke free from her hands and shouted, “My surname is Lou, not Xu, I…” Before he finished, he turned and ran. He didn’t want to be this strange woman’s son. As far as he knew, “Princess Wu” was just a nickname, a joke. One of his brothers had indeed married a real princess, whom he had seen from afar, and she was nothing like the woman behind him.

“We are all people of Wu, always will be!” Grace Bennett shouted toward the door, disappointment written all over her face. Soon, she pulled herself together. “He’ll understand. Even if he’s confused, the people of Cheng will make him understand.”

Grace Bennett sent the maid away, closed the door, sat alone at the bedside, and realized that doing something was harder than thinking about it. After a quarter of an hour, she finally made up her mind: she would not shed a single tear at the Dacheng Emperor’s funeral.

Five

Charles Carter was very upset. Though he was small and had short legs, he ran fast. He soon shook off the maid who was following him and made his way into the garden.

The Grand General’s residence covered a large area, but it was not a place of complete freedom. Even at six, Charles Carter knew where he could and couldn’t go. For example, the big garden was absolutely off-limits—if caught there, he’d really get beaten. The small garden on the other side, however, was open to him. Overgrown with plants and poorly maintained, it was a paradise for boys.

Charles Carter was both angry and confused, feeling as if he’d done something wrong, but unwilling to admit it.

Suddenly, seven or eight children burst out of the bushes ahead. The oldest was about ten, the youngest five or six. Each held a wooden sword or spear, their clothes wrapped haphazardly to mimic soldiers’ armor.

“Stop!” the oldest child shouted.

Charles Carter paused, then turned and ran. He wasn’t about to stand still—these kids were all his brothers. At least in front of adults, they called each other brothers, but in private, there was no affection at all.

Charles Carter was always the one running away, and always the one who couldn’t escape. Before long, he was tackled to the ground.

The oldest child pointed a wooden sword at Charles Carter’s nose. “Bold traitor! How dare you trespass in the military camp! Prepare to face military law!”

No one knew exactly what “military law” was, but it definitely meant being pinned down.

Charles Carter stopped struggling, lifted his dirt-streaked face, and shouted, “I’m not a traitor, I’m… delivering a message.”