The first day of the new year was the grandest festival of the year and this year, it was also the first New Year since Zhao Donglin had taken the throne in his own right. The Empress Dowager had been unwell all winter, only recovering somewhat just before the holiday, and the palace was abuzz with preparations for the great court assembly. The entire Inner Palace, including the stewards of Fengyi Palace, was swamped with work, and Meng Guqing could not slack off in the slightest.
All officials of fifth rank and above, along with their families, were required to enter the palace for New Year’s greetings. The Empress and the consorts were responsible for receiving princesses, princes’ consorts, and noble ladies, guiding them to pay respects to the Empress Dowager. After the ancestral rites and temple offerings, the court banquet would follow to entertain officials and their families.
It was the day before New Year’s Eve. Before dawn, at the first quarter of the mao hour, Meng Guqing was awakened by the bustling sounds outside her hall. Within an hour, she was dressed and ready, then made her way to the Empress Dowager’s palace.
Since the imperial wedding, she hadn’t yet met all the nobles. Aside from a few royal aunts and princesses seen during the wedding rites, most court ladies were strangers to her. The southern-born officials’ wives, intimidated by the dominance of the Donghu nobles led by Jing Wang, kept to themselves, resigned to being ornamental background figures. Even if they had wanted to approach the Empress Dowager, they likely couldn’t squeeze through the crowd.
Around the Empress Dowager gathered several of her sisters-in-law who frequently visited the palace. Amid the stately elderly ladies, one young, stunning woman in her early twenties stood out, her long sleeves danced as she told lively anecdotes, charming everyone and drawing laughter all around, leaving no space for others to speak.
Meng Guqing, curious who she was, guessed from her unfamiliar face that she wasn’t of the royal bloodline. Then, seeing Jing Wangfei beckon her over and speak to her seriously, while the woman listened attentively and deferentially, Meng Guqing suddenly understood, this must be Lady He, Jing Wang’s side consort, the very woman the young emperor had nearly “misunderstood” that day.
While Meng Guqing quietly observed Jing Wangfei and Madam He, those two were also watching her. Waiting for the right moment, Madam He glided gracefully toward the Empress, striking up a conversation about the decorations, praising the palace artisans for cultivating such vibrant flowers even in deep winter. Upon hearing that the flowers were raised personally by the Empress, her smile grew brighter: “The Empress is as lovely as the blossoms she tends, truly capable and refined. With the palace so well ordered, the Empress Dowager can simply enjoy her blessings.”
Then she took Meng Guqing’s hand and led her toward Jing Wangfei.
Jing Wangfei, who had been nursing her health for some time, was in good spirits that day. She invited the Empress to sit beside her warmly, chatting in a tone of familial intimacy.
On the Empress Dowager’s other side sat Princess Yang’a, next to Noble Consort Xu. When she arrived earlier, she had seen Madam He flitting about like a butterfly, delighting the Empress Dowager and all the elder ladies, commanding everyone’s attention. Now she even pulled the Empress into the center of it all, becoming the focus of the gathering.
Yet, even though Noble Consort Xu was carrying the emperor’s first child, Jing Wangfei had only given her the barest of greetings. Madam He stood smiling nearby, not offering her a single word. The contrast was stark.
Princess Yang’a turned away in disdain, gently stroking Noble Consort Xu’s belly as she teased the Empress Dowager: “By the time of the Shangsi Festival, the child should be born, I think. Noble Consort Xu’s belly looks just like mine when I carried Min’er, sharp and high, and she craves sour foods too. Mother, soon you’ll have a grandson. Once there’s a royal heir, the rest of us will be set aside.”
At the mention of grandchildren, all the elder noblewomen joined in, laughing and chatting.
“Her belly really is pointed just like with a boy!”
“Princess, you’re still jealous at your age?”
“If you’re afraid of losing favor, hurry and give the little prince a younger sibling!”
For a while, all attention centered on Noble Consort Xu again. But Jing Wangfei’s sharp eyes flicked over, and she deliberately countered, “I heard the Noble Consort suffered from severe nausea earlier. When I carried my eldest daughter, I was the same way, couldn’t eat for months. I’d say her belly looks more like a girl’s. But boy or girl, His Majesty and the Empress Dowager will be equally pleased… The real question is the Empress, when will she bless the realm with a prince to bring peace and prosperity?”
Jing Wangfei’s dislike for Noble Consort Xu was blatant. And indeed, that attitude reflected the general mindset of the Donghu nobles, arrogant, condescending, even the Empress Dowager was biased. Meng Guqing and Noble Consort Xu had simply become the pawns in the ongoing tug-of-war between Jing Wangfei and Princess Yang’a.
Meng Guqing could only smile awkwardly, lifting her gaze accidentally to meet Noble Consort Xu’s eyes, only to find the other woman looking equally helpless and embarrassed. Both women froze for a moment before Noble Consort Xu quietly turned away, gently stroking her stomach.
Her feelings toward the Empress were… complicated. The initial wariness and unease she’d felt had, over time, turned into something more grounded. She couldn’t deny noticing the emperor’s growing affection for the Empress, and that knowledge had pained her deeply. But she was no longer the naïve girl who entered the palace dreaming only of being with her beloved. She now had her family, her child, things she would protect with her life.
She had entered the palace as a Noble Consort, alone in the emperor’s favor. At first, she’d shared her mother’s anxiety, always fearing schemes from the other consorts, especially from the Empress of Fengyi Palace. But through her half-year of pregnancy, reality had proven otherwise: amid all the malice and gossip from others, not once had the Empress shown even the faintest trace of hostility, not a word, not a look.
If the man she loved was destined to have another woman beside him, then she would rather it be that woman, the Empress.
Of course she still hurt. On sleepless nights, she too would imagine what he was like when he was with someone else, unable to suppress that small, bitter envy. Her mother’s prejudice against the Empress ran deep, and she often scolded Xu Wan for her passive nature, warning her of palace treachery. But Xu Wan, with the quiet pride of a noble-born lady, knew well that as long as the Empress Dowager lived, she would never surpass the Empress’s station.
So she had chosen peace. As long as the Empress did not move against her, she would not make the first strike, she would never become the kind of woman even she herself would despise.
No matter what her family said, she focused on nurturing her child. Just as her mother finally began to relent, Princess Yang’a appeared again, eager to defend her honor and insisted on dragging her into another round of comparison with the Empress in front of Jing Wangfei. Xu Wan couldn’t refuse her without losing face.
After the banquet, she invited Princess Yang’a to Jianjia Palace, spending much time gently reasoning with her. Naturally, the princess like her own mother couldn’t understand.
After all, Princess Yang’a was much like her younger brother, the emperor, bold, ambitious, believing everything must be fought for. She remembered how, when Xu Wan and her brother were young, no matter who was in the wrong, it was always Xu Wan who apologized first. Only when it came to the old Empress Dowager Consort’s son, Zhao Jun, did she ever receive a peer’s courtesy. Unfortunately, Zhao Jun had died too young…
Princess Yang’a’s thoughts wandered as she walked until she reached Leshou Hall, just in front of the Eastern Six Palaces.
The ancestral temple had yet to be completed, so the portraits of the forefathers were currently enshrined here. In the center hung the image of the founding emperor of Wu, Zhao Yuanxi. To his left and right were his father and the late Regent, Zhao Yuanxu, and behind them were several brothers who had helped establish the dynasty, two of them still young when they died, leaving no heirs.
The state of Gaochang had once been a vassal of Yan, about half its size in territory, but poor in productivity, lacking the rich harvests of the South and the deep cultural traditions of the Central Plains. The Zhao clan were nobles in Gaochang: wealthy, powerful, and numerous. The many brothers of Zhao Yuanxi were the key to his success. He had no shortage of wives and concubines; even now, Zhao Donglin still had five unmarried younger brothers, and twelve princesses already wed.
Princess Yang’a was able to move freely through the palace thanks entirely to the Empress Dowager’s affection for her. She had been raised under that indulgent protection and knew full well why she stood above her sisters so she naturally clung tightly to that favor. Back when she had risked offending their mother to matchmake her imperial younger brother with Noble Consort Xu, she had been quite pleased with her own foresight and cleverness for a long while afterward.
Noble Consort Xu, being both her close confidante and the person she had “bet on” within the harem, was someone she would of course stand firmly beside.
When she entered, she saw Zhao Donglin standing before the portraits of their ancestors, his young figure straight and tall. Princess Yang’a stepped forward to pay her respects, and upon hearing her brother’s voice telling her to rise, she straightened up and asked Feng Gonggong to light three sticks of incense for her as well.
Because of the precedent set by Eldest Princess Jincheng, a princess who had even gone to the battlefield, the princesses of the Wu dynasty held quite high status. Influenced by the imperial custom of honoring the women of noble families, the ladies of the court and their households enjoyed the same prestige: they were freer to move about, their status far above that of the women of the former Yan dynasty, and they could even establish households in their own names.
After Princess Yang’a finished offering incense and prayers, Zhao Donglin waited for his royal sister to rise, and the two walked out together. Feng Tianbao stayed behind, assigning ten young eunuchs to watch the incense and paper offerings, reminding them to be especially careful of fire before he hurried to follow. He listened as the princess reminisced with the emperor about their father, their childhood games, the hardships they had endured to reach this point.
As they walked, Princess Yang’a sighed, “Uncle Jing Wang is getting muddle-headed, and Aunt isn’t much better. They came to the palace today and completely ignored Noble Consort Xu. Everyone’s been saying that her pregnancy looks like a boy, but Aunt just had to ruin the mood, claiming the shape of her belly is exactly like when she carried the Eldest Princess so it must be a girl. Royal Mother was displeased when she heard that. Meanwhile, the Empress was chatting quite warmly with that Madam He. I really can’t tell whose side she’s on…”
As she spoke, she paid close attention to her brother’s expression. His face remained calm, without the slightest change until she mentioned the Empress speaking with Madam He. Then his expression shifted slightly. “What could the Empress possibly have to say to Madam He? But the Jing royal family and Aunt are all old-fashioned, always ranking people into upper and lower classes. To this day, they only keep close with their own old clan so narrow-minded and prejudiced. Of all the younger generation in the palace, the only one Aunt seems to value is the Empress.”
Just a few days ago, Zhao Donglin had nearly misunderstood the Empress himself. Sometimes he thought he was too harsh on her. He, the emperor, could not even act freely; how could she? So now he tried to view her separately from the faction of Jing Wang and his family, unwilling to let outsiders influence his feelings. He wanted things between them to stay as they were, to continue being good.
Thinking of the Empress, Zhao Donglin’s heart softened. He wondered what she might be doing right now. He found that his fondness for her grew hotter and stronger by the day; he wanted to see her constantly, and when he couldn’t, his mind drifted to her; when he did, he wanted no one to interrupt them. Even just reading or solving jade puzzles together gave him joy.
He was lost in thought until they passed the second inner gate, Rijing Gate, before he began paying attention again to what his sister was saying.
“…It’s just that Wan’er hasn’t had the best luck,” Princess Yang’a went on. “You two were so wonderful together in the beginning. When you were still in the Eastern Palace, people came and went around you, but she never left your side. You treated her differently from anyone else, your affection for her was plain for all to see. Everyone said you two were a match made in heaven. Wan’er is also well-read, well-behaved, a model of decorum; she has the bearing of a true Empress. If not for a few meddling uncles, how would the current Empress ever have had her turn?”
“Imperial Sister!”
Princess Yang’a froze mid-sentence. When she realized something was wrong, her brother’s face was already dark. She stammered, “W–what’s the matter?”
“The Empress is very good. Please, Imperial Sister, watch your words.” Zhao Donglin knew his sister was close with Noble Consort Xu, but he had not expected her to show such open disrespect toward the Empress. And he hadn’t realized until now how cutting the words ‘how would the Empress ever have had her turn’ sounded to his ears. Anger surged up before he could stop it. “Imperial Sister visits Royal Mother often, yet you never pay respects to the Empress. If word spreads, people will only say you flout the rules and lack propriety. If you continue to hand others an excuse, even for Royal Mother’s sake, Zhen will not be able to turn a blind eye.”
The sudden reversal left Princess Yang’a utterly stunned. She wasn’t the sort to speak thoughtlessly, and she still remembered clearly how her brother’s harem, mostly Donghu women, had left him embittered and miserable. As for her praise of Noble Consort Xu, that was what everyone had said when the Consort first entered the palace. Had her brother never heard those rumors? Why react so strongly now?
Princess Yang’a couldn’t make sense of it. She had overestimated herself and placed too much importance on Noble Consort Xu. A meddling elder sister who repeatedly inserted herself into her younger brother’s household affairs and slighted his wife, how could that ever be acceptable?
It was when she heard her brother’s cold use of the word “Zhen” that she finally understood. The young man before her was no longer the powerless puppet once trapped in the Eastern Palace. Even as siblings, they were no longer ordinary brother and sister. She had come intending to sow a bit of discord, but instead ran headfirst into a wall. Shocked and chastened, Princess Yang’a did not dare linger. After attending the banquet, she left for home immediately.
Zhao Donglin was not so tyrannical as to punish his sister over a few misplaced words, but her open disrespect toward the Empress, especially in front of him, made him wonder how she behaved when he wasn’t there. If someone of her rank treated the Empress so lightly, how many others must do the same? And in every court, there were always flatterers eager to follow the winds. To think that even the noble Empress must endure people’s contempt, he felt a heavy gloom settle in his chest.
He knew the root of the problem, of course. No wonder the Empress always treated him so coolly. He could cling to her all he wanted, but she never truly warmed up. His sister had said he once favored the Noble Consort but all they had done was share a few meals, ride in the same carriage a few times. To him, that wasn’t special treatment. It was only because he so rarely invited anyone that it had seemed so. Did the Empress also think he still kept Noble Consort Xu in his heart, that his tenderness toward her was nothing but affection scattered too widely?
The next day, New Year’s Eve, the imperial family’s banquet was held in the Mingguang Pavilion near the Shoucheng Hall so the Empress Dowager could come and go easily and wouldn’t be disturbed by the music and dancing.
The previous day had left Meng Guqing exhausted, so she went to bed early and slept soundly. When she half-awoke, she sensed a shadow moving near her bed through the dim light filtering in from the curtains.
“Fusang, it’s still early. Let me sleep a bit longer,” she murmured. From the Western clock outside, she heard four chimes, it was only four in the morning.
But the person didn’t call her to rise. Instead, they lifted the quilt and slipped inside swiftly. A strong arm wrapped around her, pulling her into a warm embrace. A low, pleasant voice murmured, “Mm. It’s still dark. Let’s sleep a bit more.”
Meng Guqing blinked her drowsy eyes open. “Your Majesty?”
Because of the New Year’s holiday, the Six Ministries had already sealed their documents on the twenty-eighth, but the young emperor, diligent as always, had stayed up late discussing state affairs with senior ministers. She’d been told he would sleep at the Huangji Hall for the night.
Now, pressed against his chest, she could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. The quiet was complete. She realized, with a jolt, how accustomed she’d become to resting in his arms. They had started with separate quilts and clear boundaries, and yet, over time, those boundaries had blurred. She sighed silently, unable to fall back asleep.
She was comforted, truly, that the young emperor had begun treating her with gentleness rather than suspicion. Yet his growing affection, his occasional shy advances, his possessive kisses, left her more and more uneasy. There were moments, in the midst of her exasperation, when she felt her own resolve waver. After all, she was human. Under such constant, fervent warmth, even the hardest heart could not remain completely unmoved.
This festival was not only the emperor’s first since taking full power, it was also her fifth year in this world. She missed home terribly. Her modern world. Her old life in Dongchang. After marriage, this first New Year’s brought that longing out all the more keenly. She had gone to bed early, hoping to avoid melancholy but then he came, and she could hardly brush him off.
Now, lying awake beside him, his warmth and the firmness of his embrace seemed to smooth away the loneliness that stretched across time and space. She looked up at the faint light and the elegant curve of his jaw, his brows still furrowed even in sleep, as if burdened by endless worries. Holding her breath, Meng Guqing slowly eased herself out of Zhao Donglin’s arms and turned away.
He was a good person. But sadly, they were not people walking the same path.
