The young emperor Zhao Donglin was called the first emperor of Great Wu because his father, when he rose in rebellion against the Yan dynasty, dared not call himself king or emperor, only the leader of a “righteous army.” By the time he had conquered most of Yan’s territory and was finally ready to claim the throne, his grand ambitions were cut short by sudden illness.
After his father’s death, in order to rally the people’s hearts and to establish a legitimate claim to the throne, so the world would turn toward him, Zhao Donglin ascended as emperor with the backing of several uncles who had distinguished themselves in battle. At that time, he was still a child, barely eight years old, so for the next few years, state affairs were handled jointly by his grandmother, the Grand Empress Dowager, and his mother, the Empress Dowager.
When the Grand Empress Dowager passed away a few years later, Yong Wang, Zhao Donglin’s seventh uncle, lost all restraint. In court, he purged dissenters with his faction, staging an elaborate performance that resulted in him being granted the title of Regent, a position above all civil and military officials.
During those years, the Empress Dowager and her son lived in constant fear. When Zhao Donglin turned fifteen, any court official who dared to submit a memorial requesting that power be returned to the emperor met a grim fate; at best demoted, at worst exiled for fabricated crimes. The most severe case involved a treason accusation that dragged on for two years and implicated over twenty thousand people, all of whom met disastrous ends. Fortunately, Heaven showed mercy, the Regent fell ill with the same sudden sickness that had claimed the late emperor and did not survive past the age of fifty-six. Otherwise, who could say who would be sitting on the throne today?
Putting herself in his place, Meng Guqing knew that if she had spent ten years walking on thin ice, she too would feel nothing but resentment toward the Regent and would never accept a marriage arranged by him. So she actually understood why the young emperor detested his empress. Understanding, however, didn’t make her position any less awkward; she was that despised empress. Since the emperor stayed away, she simply enjoyed the peace, and in just a few days, she had made her palace comfortable and cozy.
Her father, one of the few foreign princes, governed Gaochang, a region on Great Wu’s northwestern border. Though he was nominally the highest-ranking official in the secondary capital Yongjing, his actual political power was somewhat limited but his wealth was unquestionable. He had spared no expense in preparing her dowry. In her hands alone, she possessed ninety million coins, not to mention a caravan full of rare treasures, thousands of cattle, sheep, and horses, as well as countless shops, fields, and estates in the capital—so many she couldn’t count them on both hands and feet.
Meng Guqing had no intention of relying solely on her imperial allowance to live. She carefully managed her own assets, so even confined within the palace, she still had matters to oversee beyond the walls. Other than that, her life was rather leisurely. She spent her days at Fengyi Palace kicking shuttlecocks or playing cuju with her maids. Since Fengyi Palace was far removed from Huangji Hall, practically an isolated island within the palace complex, news reached her slowly, and she allowed her servants more freedom of movement. Still, she repeatedly warned her two closest maids not to get too familiar with the other consorts.
It wasn’t that she was overly strict, only that the current situation left no room for optimism. The young emperor was already nineteen. Even if he disliked his empress, for the sake of appearances before the court he should have at least pretended to be on good terms with her. Yet he made no effort to hide his disdain, keeping her so obviously at a distance that it revealed how deep his disgust ran. She held the title of empress in name only, without favor, she was actually in a more precarious position than the uncherished concubines. Should trouble arise, she might not even be able to protect her own servants.
Since the one on the throne was unreliable, thankfully there was still another power in the palace: the Empress Dowager, her paternal aunt, someone with a natural closeness to her. Having visited Shoucheng Hall several times already, Meng Guqing knew the way well.
That day, the Empress Dowager was in the rear courtyard examining a few pots of flowers newly delivered from the imperial gardens. She had just been considering sending someone to summon the empress when a maid came to announce her arrival. The Empress Dowager’s attendant, Fanchun Gugu, smiled and said, “What did I say? Family understands family; you only thought of her, and she’s already come.”
When Meng Guqing entered, she saw her aunt standing gracefully in the warm sunlight, resplendent and dignified. She stepped forward and offered her greetings. The Empress Dowager studied her niece’s bright, healthy complexion and luminous black eyes, radiant as a blooming flower, and felt somewhat relieved. Her niece’s neglect reflected poorly on her own standing, and though she had been helpless in the matter, she was glad to see the girl at least untroubled in appearance.
The Empress Dowager smiled softly. “Seeing you reminds me of when I was your age, sixteen, seventeen, newly wed to the late emperor. My family was powerful, yes, but his favor? Not much. The Eldest Madam was virtuous and unshakable, and Madam Li enjoyed the emperor’s favor for years. By the time he remembered me, I was already twenty-four. Your cousin, the current emperor, was the ninth of his sons, not eldest, not legitimate, yet look at us now. We’re the only ones still smiling and alive. Mingzhu’er, do you understand what I mean?”
That she even remembered her childhood nickname, used only before age seven or eight, moved Meng Guqing slightly. She smiled softly. “I understand, Aunt. You mean, the one who laughs last, laughs best.”
The Empress Dowager nodded approvingly and gestured toward a row of golden chrysanthemums blooming beneath a stone terrace. “Look at these flowers. In this desolate autumn, when all else withers, they bloom so brilliantly, as though burning with life itself. Flowers are like people; no bloom lasts a hundred days, and no person enjoys a thousand days of favor. See that pale-pink chrysanthemum beside it? Lovely, yes but it isn’t the king of flowers. Without recognition, what use is beauty?”
There was meaning behind her words, and after a moment’s thought, Meng Guqing understood. The Empress Dowager had fought tooth and nail to secure her son’s throne during the Regent’s years of dominance, exhausting herself to maneuver through the court. While she had little time for her son, the young emperor did not lack for motherly affection—his wet nurse, Madam Yang, had completely filled that void, earning his love and respect. For a time, his generosity toward Madam Yang rivaled even what he bestowed upon the Empress Dowager herself.
The Empress Dowager, restrained and distant in her own son’s eyes, could hardly have been pleased. Though she later used his coming of age as a reason to retire Madam Yang to the countryside, fate seemed to mock her—Madam Yang’s daughter, Xu Wan, soon entered the palace. Zhao Donglin and Xu Wan had been childhood playmates, and rumor had it he once wished to make her his empress. The more his mother opposed, the more obstinate he became, until resentment grew between them over that one woman.
These were palace whispers Meng Guqing had picked up over the past few days. From the sound of it, the Empress Dowager’s feelings toward Xu Wan were bound to be complicated and understandably so. Meng Guqing stayed tactfully silent, and the Empress Dowager soon shifted the topic, reminiscing about Zhao Donglin’s childhood, how lazy he’d been, not speaking a word until the age of two, driving her to distraction.
Even Fanchun Gugu joined in, laughing that the emperor had shown shrewd judgment since he was little. At three or four, while the late emperor was away at war, all the women including the Empress Dowager had to sew and prepare winter clothing for the front lines. The young prince had been left with only one servant and fed just once that day. Even then, he hadn’t cried or fussed, he simply waited until evening to declare he was hungry. But the servant tending him was so clumsy she couldn’t even light a fire, and didn’t think to find him a snack. After enduring hunger all day, the little boy finally lost his temper and kicked over the half-lit brazier.
When his grandmother heard, she wasn’t angry but instead praised him for knowing when to yield and when to stand firm; a clever child, she said.
As the two older women reminisced, their faces softened with affection. Clearly, they hoped Meng Guqing would better understand the emperor’s temperament so they could get along. Not wishing to reject such well-meaning advice, she simply listened and smiled.
The day wore on until a eunuch entered to announce that the emperor had arrived. Suddenly, Meng Guqing understood why the Empress Dowager had spoken so long and even insisted she stay for the meal, she had been waiting for this.
Following the Empress Dowager into the side hall, she heard a clear, youthful voice: “Royal Mother, what made you summon me today? I haven’t finished reviewing my memorials yet.”
Before he could finish, he noticed the unfamiliar face beside the Empress Dowager. He froze briefly as the woman bowed and greeted him with a soft, “Your Qie pays respect.”
His lips twitched. “So, the Empress is here too. You may rise.”
It was the first time Meng Guqing had seen the young emperor, and she did not miss the faint curl of his lips. Pretending not to notice, she sat quietly once the Empress Dowager was seated, keeping silent throughout their conversation. Unless spoken to, she did not utter a word, only once did she ladle a bowl of soup for the Empress Dowager. Otherwise, she was invisible, doing her utmost to avoid drawing attention.
Unfortunately, her restraint didn’t achieve the desired effect. After the meal, the Empress Dowager feigned fatigue and dismissed them both, pointedly instructing the emperor to escort the empress back.
Fully aware of her place, Meng Guqing slowed her steps once they had left Shoucheng Hall. With polite formality, she said, “Your Majesty is busy with state affairs. Those are far more important. I can return by myself.”
Standing a short distance away, Zhao Donglin looked every bit the image of imperial elegance: slender waist, long legs, posture straight as a spear. Yet he seemed to think his presence insufficiently commanding, clasping his hands behind his back and assuming an air of aloof superiority. “Fengyi Palace is far from here. The imperial gardens are quiet and overgrown. If you were startled or frightened, it would be troublesome. It’s only a short walk, let’s go.”
Such awkward phrasing, for what was, in essence, kindness. Truly still a boy. Meng Guqing didn’t argue. When he strode forward on his long legs, she simply followed in silence.
They spoke not a word on the way. Upon reaching the gates of Fengyi Palace, before she could even thank him, the emperor seemed eager to flee as if her palace were some monster’s den. “Rest early,” he said curtly, and hurried off.
Meng Guqing stared after him, speechless.
Had she looked as if she wanted him to stay the night?
