Lace Glory Universe King GL - Chapter 10

“Indeed.” said the Minister of Protocol.

Sun Shangxiang stepped forward and bowed her head. “Greetings, Lord Shangguan.”

Shangguan Wan’er shook her hand, and those clear, slender eyes swiftly swept over her from head to toe.

“I trust the Minister has treated Princess Shangxiang well?” Shangguan asked.

“The guesthouse is excellent in every respect. Chang’an is the most welcoming city I have ever seen,” Sun Shangxiang replied with diplomatic courtesy.

“These past days, Her Majesty the Empress has been unwell and cannot meet with you. Instead, I shall accompany the Princess for lunch, as a small gesture of welcome.” Shangguan smiled. “Minister, thank you for your efforts.”

The Minister of Protocol nodded knowingly and left.

The smile on Shangguan’s face was as warm as spring breeze. She led Sun Shangxiang on a tour of the Zhaowen Hall, carefully introducing the collections of classics, as though Shangxiang were a student about to study there tomorrow.

The Minister had said that Lord Shangguan was learned in both past and present, but Shangxiang never liked literary matters. Most of the titles on the shelves meant little to her.

She thought to herself: I’m just a runaway cannon heiress from a shipbuilding family. If there were books on weapons, maybe I’d be interested.

Perhaps her expression had betrayed her inner thoughts, because half an hour later Shangguan stopped her explanations, instead inviting her to stroll through the courtyard, drink tea in a pavilion, and chat about the customs of Wu.

The tea was excellent; the conversation friendly, polite, and never intrusive. There were no questions about her broken engagement or about Sun Quan’s rise to power.

No doubt the people of Ziwei Palace already knew everything.

Time passed until near noon. Then Shangguan flicked her brush across the air, and from twenty meters away tapped the screen before the hall.

So she’s a mage, Sun Shangxiang thought.

Immediately, two attendants in matching attire came carrying dishes. After several trips, the stone table in the pavilion had turned into a lavish banquet table. They could now dine while enjoying the lush garden view.

“Lord Shangguan’s arrangements are indeed elegant.” Sun Shangxiang was genuinely pleased.

“Please, enjoy.” Shangguan folded away her fan.

Her elder brother Sun Ce had once told her: the people of Heluo liked to talk business at the table. He had been right. After a dish and a cup of wine, Shangguan finally spoke of serious matters.

“While staying at the guesthouse ensures your safety, what are the Princess’s next plans? To be honest, there is not much we can do to help.” Her tone was modest.

“For now, evading my pursuers is what I need most. I will always remember your kindness. Beyond that, I want to observe Sun Quan’s moves, then return to the game and reclaim my position as heir to the corporation.” Shangxiang said.

“I admire your resolve.” Shangguan nodded. “But staying at the guesthouse may hinder your plans. This morning, in court at Ziwei Palace, someone proposed giving the Princess a more suitable residence.”

“Where?” Shangxiang asked.

“The Bureau of Works (Yuheng Division),” Shangguan replied.

“Isn’t that a government office? I don’t understand what you mean, Lord Shangguan.”

“The head of that bureau, Sikong Zhen, once visited Eastern Wu years ago. He seems to sympathize greatly with your plight. He is willing to provide all possible assistance. What does the Princess think?”

Sikong Zhen… Shangxiang recalled that Mulan had once mentioned this name, asking if she knew him.

Her instincts told her that Sikong Zhen approaching her was hardly just about some old ties with Wu.

Shangguan waited for her answer.

There was no one familiar with her in Chang’an, yet Sikong Zhen had extended an invitation. If it were a trap, could she avoid the next one? Better to accept and meet him face to face.

“I will accept the arrangement, with gratitude.”

Back at the guesthouse, Shangxiang prepared a sound-transmission paper to send to Changle Ward, but hesitated, fearing it was too rash. She decided to wait alone in her suite.

It was said that The Soaring Dance was Gongsun Li’s signature performance.

The ink-painted screen opened to reveal an empty stage in dim light. A paper parasol drifted down slowly from above, landing gently at the center. From behind it, a dancer in red robes unfurled the parasol as the lights brightened. From her figure to her gaze, from fingertips to toes, every movement was enchanting and graceful.

Ali danced a segment, then tossed the parasol into the air, where it spun and transformed into swirling maple leaves. The audience burst into applause.

Ali leapt gracefully, chasing after the leaves—or perhaps guiding them to swirl about her body. The red leaves shifted into various shapes, and when she landed, they covered her robe with a rustling sound. At the music’s heavy note, the leaves vanished, the parasol returned to her hand, and her scarlet gown transformed into a new butterfly-like costume.

Hua Mulan watched intently, calculating the parasol’s flight range. This Gongsun Li was highly skilled in magic and quick on her feet. Her weapon was that parasol.

Mulan would need to upgrade her own gear if she wanted the upper hand.

After a few more lively performances at Changle Ward, Mulan left early to shop along Weapon Street, picking up supplies.

She mulled over strategies for confronting Gongsun Li tomorrow, paying no attention to street gossip.

Had she listened, she would have heard about the day’s meeting between Ziwei Palace and the princess of Wu.

Back in her suite, Sun Shangxiang grew anxious. It wasn’t until nearly midnight that she heard soft footsteps in the courtyard sand outside.

She lit a lantern.

It was her sister.

“Were you waiting for me?” Mulan whispered in the dim light.

“I thought it unsafe to send a message on paper. Better to tell you face to face. I’ve been waiting a long time.” Shangxiang blew out the lantern.

“What is it?”

They sat by the window in darkness, their faces faintly visible by moonlight.

“That Sikong Zhen you mentioned—he wants me to move to the Bureau of Works.” Shangxiang sensed Mulan’s surprise.

“You agreed?”

“I did, at noon in Ziwei Palace.” Shangxiang nodded, though she couldn’t read her sister’s reaction.

Mulan was shocked, pleased, and troubled all at once. Sikong Zhen had moved quickly—this was a chance to probe his true intentions. But Shangxiang might be walking into a tiger’s den. At the guesthouse, they could still meet in secret. At the Bureau, they could not act so freely.

When pondering serious matters, Mulan always kept a calm face and silent tongue, never allowing others to read her emotions. It was the same when she served as a frontier guard.

“Why did you ask me before if I knew Sikong Zhen? We’ve never met—why would he invite me to stay at the Bureau? Sister, you already know, don’t you?”

Mulan stood, arms folded across her chest.

“Princess, let’s join forces.” Mulan said simply.

“What do you mean, join forces?”

“You want to know about Sikong Zhen. Fine—but only if we cooperate.”

“Haven’t we been cooperating all along?” Shangxiang looked up into the shadowed eyes above her.

“No. I mean openly—sharing intelligence, staying in sync, moving as one.” Mulan sat back down.

She had thought Shangxiang was the arrogant, spoiled heiress rumors described, but instead found her steady and trustworthy. At least wise enough not to risk important matters on transmission papers, but to wait for a safe meeting instead.

“Very well, I agree.” Shangxiang said.

Mulan extended her right hand. Shangxiang hesitated, then offered hers. Their palms met and clasped, shaking briefly in the air.

Her hand is so warm, they both thought.

“His invitation makes sense—it kills two birds with one stone. He and Sun Quan are allies. That’s why I went to Eastern Wu, to confirm it, and asked if you knew Sikong Zhen.” Mulan answered her earlier question.

“So that’s why you’ve been close to me all along,” Shangxiang sharply added—not angrily, but like a comrade cutting to the truth without mercy.

“It has proven useful,” Mulan admitted frankly, then continued, “They’re plotting something, and it isn’t good. Sikong needs a great deal of money. He had me reassigned from the frontier, then—according to reports from Ju Kai, my deputy—he installed his own tax officer. Remove the frontier commander, but appoint a collector of funds? He means to siphon the border’s treasury. But why does he need the money?”

“A source told me he colludes with Eastern Wu. I looked into the past: ten years ago, Sikong visited there. Reports said he met your brother Sun Ce. Back then, Sun Quan was unknown, so he wasn’t mentioned. I doubt Sun Ce struck a deal with him, but Sun Quan would have been interested.”

“Likely they came to a tacit understanding. Since then, though they never met again, they communicated in secret—through that woman you mentioned. That so-called ‘girlfriend’ traveling frequently between the two states coincides exactly with your family’s downfall. And in these past six months, your brother suddenly fell ill. Once he died, Sun Quan seized your place, arranged your marriage to Liu Bei, and pushed you away from the center of power.”

“So, the woman you’re searching for is…”

“Yes. At the border I found her name—Gongsun Li, now a dancer at Changle Ward. Today, your decision not to send a message was the wisest one, my Princess.” Mulan’s eyes showed approval.

Shangxiang smiled faintly.

“Tomorrow night I’ll return to Changle Ward to confront her. Once you’re at the Bureau, stay guarded and watch for Sikong’s clues. He stole the frontier’s funds—he’s preparing something big.”

“Then how shall we keep in touch?”

“Not with transmission paper. My identity is sensitive, and I must avoid the Bureau’s people as well.” Mulan thought aloud, pacing.

Shangxiang frowned in concentration.

“There’s one man who might act unseen…” Mulan recalled the masked assassin—Lanling King.

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