THE EMPEROR OF TIME

CHAPTER 7

THE WOMAN ERASED FROM HISTORY 

The first thing Chen Tianyu learned about the dead was that people could lie about them.

The second was that history could be made to agree.

He stood inside the abandoned observatory, staring at the portrait of General Li Yuansheng. The man’s painted eyes seemed to follow him, carrying a warning from a past that refused to remain buried.

When the traveler returns, trust the man who killed me.

The message had been written in a hand that looked hurried but steady.

Tianyu glanced at Zhao Wuchen.

“You knew her father personally?”

“Yes.”

“Were you friends?”

Zhao took a long time to answer.

“We fought together on the northern frontier. He saved my life twice. I saved his once.”

“And then you executed him.”

“I carried out the sentence ordered by the emperor.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

Zhao’s expression hardened, but he did not turn away.

“No. We were more than friends. He trusted me with his life.”

Tianyu held up the portrait.

“Then explain this.”

Zhao read the inscription.

For a moment, his composure collapsed. He reached for the portrait, then stopped before his fingers touched it.

“Where did you find this?”

“In the box.”

“Was there anything else?”

“Documents. A broken sword. Nothing that explains why he wanted me to trust you.”

Zhao stared at the painted face.

“Because he knew something I did not.”

“What?”

“That the emperor had already decided which of us would betray the other.”

Tianyu lowered the portrait.

“You’re going to have to do better than that.”

Zhao walked toward the staircase.

“I will tell you everything I remember. But first, we must find the princess.”

He paused.

“And if we are fortunate, she may be the only person who can tell us whether the man I executed was truly her father.”

Tianyu followed him.

The statement chilled him more than the darkness below the observatory.

They began at the old temple quarter.

Xueyan had disappeared while helping civilians escape the western district. Her guards had found blood near the bell tower, but no body, no ransom note, and no reliable witness.

Tianyu refused to accept that she was dead.

The mysterious man in white had said she was alive.

He had no reason to trust him, yet he had learned something important about the strange figure: he rarely spoke without intending to influence what happened next.

If he had wanted Tianyu to believe Xueyan was dead, he would have said so.

Instead, he had left a trail.

The temple stood in a narrow street between a damaged tea house and a small herbal medicine shop. Its wooden doors had been forced open. Broken lanterns littered the courtyard, and the stone steps were stained with rainwater and blood.

Tianyu crouched beside the bell tower.

He noticed three things.

A thin strand of blue silk caught beneath a broken tile.

A smear of black wax on the lower step.

And a shallow groove in the stone, as though something heavy had been dragged toward the temple wall.

He picked up the silk.

“Xueyan’s clothing?” Zhao asked.

“Possibly.”

Tianyu rubbed the wax between his fingers.

It was almost identical to the substance used to seal the documents in the observatory.

“Someone from the palace was here.”

Zhao examined the groove.

“There is no passage behind this wall.”

“Have you checked?”

“I have guarded this district for years.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

Zhao gave him a hard look.

Tianyu searched the stones along the wall. Several were carved with faded Buddhist symbols. One symbol, however, looked different: a circle surrounded by nine short lines.

The mark from the jade pendant.

He pressed it.

Nothing happened.

He pressed it again, then held the pendant against the stone.

A soft click sounded.

The wall shifted inward.

Zhao immediately drew his sword.

“Stand back.”

He pushed the concealed panel open.

Beyond it lay a narrow passage descending into the earth.

Tianyu looked at the general.

“Still certain there is no passage?”

Zhao gave him a look that promised they would discuss the matter later.

They descended.

At the bottom, they found a small room containing a wooden chair, an empty water jug, and a length of rope.

On the floor lay a single hairpin.

Gold, shaped like a phoenix.

Xueyan’s.

Tianyu picked it up.

A faint vibration passed through the jade pendant.

Then golden writing appeared.

MEMORY FRAGMENT DETECTED.

SUBJECT: LI XUEYAN.

LOCATION: UNKNOWN.

A second line formed beneath it.

WARNING: THE SUBJECT REMEMBERS THE FIRST WORLD.

Tianyu stared at the words.

“What is the first world?” Zhao asked.

“I don’t know.”

It was the first time he had admitted it aloud.

He had spent years studying historical records, believing that every mystery could eventually be explained by evidence. But this world did not obey the rules he understood.

His father had appeared behind a door that opened into another time.

An alternate version of himself sat upon a throne in a world Tianyu had never seen.

And now the pendant claimed that Xueyan remembered a world that might never have existed.

Tianyu closed his fingers around the hairpin.

“Someone brought her here. Then they moved her somewhere else.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Because if they wanted to kill her, they would not have needed a hidden room.”

He examined the rope.

It had been cut cleanly, not torn apart.

“She escaped,” he said.

Zhao crouched beside the chair.

“Or someone helped her escape.”

A faint scraping sound came from the passage.

Both men turned.

A small object rolled across the stone floor and stopped at Tianyu’s foot.

It was a black wooden disc.

Nine lines had been carved into its surface.

On the reverse, a message had been written in red ink.

THE WOMAN WHO REMEMBERS IS NOT THE WOMAN YOU SEEK.

Tianyu read it twice.

“What does that mean?”

Zhao shook his head.

But Tianyu noticed that his hand had tightened around the hilt of his sword.

“You recognize this symbol.”

“No.”

“You’re lying.”

Zhao’s eyes flashed.

“You want answers, historian? Then stop assuming every person who knows more than you is your enemy.”

Tianyu rose.

“And stop assuming that silence protects anyone.”

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then Zhao sheathed his sword.

“There is one place left to search.”

“Where?”

“The imperial archives.”

The imperial archives occupied an enormous building behind the eastern palace. Its rooms contained official records, military reports, genealogies, astronomical observations, and the written decisions of emperors who had ruled before Tianyu was born.

The building should have been protected by dozens of guards.

Instead, they found only two men at the entrance.

Both wore black cords around their wrists.

Zhao approached with his head held high.

“By order of the imperial military command, we require access to the historical records.”

The older guard shook his head.

“No access without the emperor’s seal.”

Zhao stepped closer.

“I am General Zhao Wuchen.”

“And I am following orders.”

Tianyu studied the guard.

His armor was new, but his boots were covered in the dust of the western district. A small cut crossed his cheek.

He had fought in the previous night’s battle.

Perhaps he was loyal to the false emperor.

Perhaps he was frightened.

Tianyu took a different approach.

“We are looking for records concerning General Li Yuansheng, who was executed twelve years ago. If the emperor’s judgment was correct, the documents will prove it.”

The guard hesitated.

“And if they do not?”

“Then we will know why someone has gone to such lengths to keep them hidden.”

The older man looked at his companion.

After a moment, he stepped aside.

“You have one hour.”

Inside, the archives smelled of dry paper, dust, and old wood. Thousands of bamboo slips and bound manuscripts filled the shelves.

Tianyu moved quickly, searching for the records from the year of Li Yuansheng’s execution.

He found the official decree.

Then the military report.

Then the testimony of three court officials.

Every document accused Li Yuansheng of treason.

Every document bore the same imperial seal.

And every document had been written on paper produced in the same month.

Tianyu stopped.

That was impossible.

The military investigation had supposedly begun weeks before the execution. The testimony should have been recorded at different times. Some documents should have contained amendments or later annotations.

Instead, the records appeared to have been manufactured together.

He examined the seal impressions.

The dragon’s left claw was missing a small line.

It was a tiny defect, but Tianyu had seen the same mark on the documents recovered from the forbidden library.

The records had been forged.

Someone had rewritten the official history of Li Yuansheng’s execution.

“Tianyu,” Zhao called softly.

The general stood beside a narrow cabinet at the back of the room.

Its lock had been broken.

Inside lay a single book wrapped in faded yellow cloth.

On the cover were four characters:

THE UNRECORDED WOMEN.

Tianyu opened it.

The first pages contained names of women who had disappeared from official genealogies. Some had been imperial consorts. Others were daughters of generals, wives of scholars, or women accused of crimes against the throne.

Several names had been crossed out.

Beside each was a date.

And beside every date was the same symbol: nine lines surrounding an empty circle.

Tianyu turned another page.

Then he stopped.

The name written there was unmistakable.

CHEN YUE.

His mother.

Below her name was a short description:

Born in the nineteenth year of the previous reign. Scholar of ancient calendars. Wife of Chen Guowei. Removed from the first timeline following the opening of the Gate of Time.

Tianyu felt the book slip in his hands.

His father had told him that his mother died when he was thirteen.

He remembered the hospital room, the smell of disinfectant, and the way his father had held his shoulder while the doctor spoke.

He remembered the funeral.

He remembered the photograph of his mother placed beside the flowers.

Those memories had always been painful.

Now he wondered whether they were even real.

“What does it say?” Zhao asked.

Tianyu could barely force the words out.

“It says my mother was removed from the first timeline.”

Zhao stepped closer.

“Does it explain what that means?”

“No.”

Tianyu turned the page.

A handwritten note had been tucked between the leaves.

The writing was his father’s.

If my son ever finds this record, he must understand that memory is not proof. A man may remember a life that never happened. A woman may be forgotten by the world and still exist somewhere beyond it.

Beneath the note was another sentence.

Chen Yue did not die. I sent her through the Gate.

Tianyu gripped the edge of the table.

“Sent her where?”

No one answered.

A sound came from the far end of the archive.

The rustle of fabric.

Then a woman’s voice spoke from between the shelves.

“You shouldn’t have read that.”

Tianyu turned.

A woman in a dark blue robe stood in the shadows.

Her face was partly hidden beneath a veil, but her eyes were clear and steady.

She looked at him as though she had been waiting years for this moment.

“Who are you?” Tianyu demanded.

The woman stepped into the light.

“My name is Shen Ruolan.”

Zhao immediately drew his sword.

“Master Shen’s daughter?”

She nodded.

“My father died because he tried to protect the records you are holding.”

Tianyu lowered the book slightly.

“Your father was murdered.”

“Yes.”

“By the emperor?”

“By someone who wanted the emperor to believe he had ordered it.”

She glanced toward the entrance.

“We have little time. The palace guards are coming.”

Tianyu moved closer.

“You know something about my mother.”

“I knew her.”

The room seemed to tilt.

“You knew Chen Yue?”

Shen Ruolan nodded.

“She was not merely a scholar. She helped design the Gate of Time.”

Tianyu struggled to understand.

“My father was an archaeologist.”

“Your father was many things. Archaeologist. Historian. Traveler. Prisoner.”

“And my mother?”

Shen Ruolan’s expression softened.

“Your mother was the first person who discovered that time could remember what people had forgotten.”

Before Tianyu could ask what she meant, she reached into her robe and produced a small strip of silk.

On it was a drawing of a woman standing beside a bronze door.

The woman looked exactly like Tianyu’s mother.

But there was something wrong with the image.

Her shadow did not fall behind her.

It stretched forward, toward the viewer, as though the light came from a world that did not exist.

Tianyu stared at the drawing.

“Where is she?”

Shen Ruolan lowered her voice.

“Beyond the first world.”

“And how do I reach her?”

“You cannot.”

Tianyu’s jaw tightened.

“Why?”

“Because the first world is not a place you can travel to. It is a history that has been erased. To enter it, you must remember something you have never experienced.”

The jade pendant began to glow.

Tianyu felt a pressure behind his eyes.

A memory surfaced.

A woman laughing in a garden.

A hand brushing his hair away from his forehead.

A voice whispering, When the bells ring nine times, find me.

He had never heard that voice before.

And yet he knew it.

It was his mother’s.

He staggered backward.

Zhao caught his arm.

“What happened?”

Tianyu pressed a hand to his head.

“I remembered her.”

Shen Ruolan looked frightened.

“What did you hear?”

“Bells. Nine bells.”

The woman’s face went pale.

“Then the first world has already begun to return.”

They escaped the archives through a side entrance just as palace guards entered the main hall.

Shen Ruolan led them through a narrow alley to a deserted courtyard. There, beneath a dead tree, she stopped and faced Tianyu.

“There is something else you must know.”

Tianyu held the book tightly against his chest.

“Tell me.”

“Princess Xueyan is not simply missing. She was taken because the people behind the emperor believe she can unlock a memory that belongs to your mother.”

“What memory?”

“The location of the third key.”

Tianyu remembered his father’s warning.

It is not an object.

He looked at Shen Ruolan.

“What is the third key?”

She hesitated.

Then she said, “A person who remembers both worlds.”

Tianyu thought of Xueyan’s pendant, her missing father, and the strange message that had appeared when she vanished.

The woman who remembers is not the woman you seek.

“Xueyan,” he whispered.

Shen Ruolan nodded.

“But not the Xueyan you know.”

Before Tianyu could ask another question, the courtyard gates slammed shut.

Black-corded soldiers poured into the garden.

At their head stood General Duan Shiming.

He smiled when he saw the book in Tianyu’s hands.

“Thank you, historian. You have saved us the trouble of searching the archives ourselves.”

Zhao raised his sword.

Shen Ruolan backed toward the dead tree.

Tianyu reached for his jade pendant.

The world shuddered.

For a fraction of a second, the soldiers disappeared.

The courtyard became a different place.

The dead tree was covered in green leaves. The stone walls stood unbroken. Sunlight fell across a garden filled with white flowers.

And beside the tree stood a young woman wearing a pale blue dress.

Tianyu recognized her face.

Princess Li Xueyan.

But she looked younger, perhaps ten years old.

She turned toward him and smiled.

“Brother,” she whispered.

The vision vanished.

Tianyu gasped.

He had never had a sister.

He had never met Xueyan as a child.

Yet the word had come from his own mouth before he could stop it.

Brother.

The pendant flared with blinding light.

Every soldier in the courtyard froze.

A voice spoke from nowhere and everywhere at once.

MEMORY RESTORED.

SUBJECT: CHEN YUE.

STATUS: ALIVE.

LOCATION: THE FIRST WORLD.

Then another line appeared.

WARNING: THE SECOND EMPEROR HAS FOUND HER.

The soldiers began moving again.

Duan Shiming raised his sword.

“Take them alive!”

Zhao charged.

Shen Ruolan grabbed Tianyu’s sleeve.

“We must go!”

But Tianyu remained frozen, staring at the final message.

His mother was alive.

And the second emperor had found her.

Across a thousand years of history, a war was being fought over a woman the world had forgotten.

And Tianyu was no longer certain whether he had traveled into the past to change history—or whether history had brought him here to finish a war his parents had started.