She always felt that if she got any closer to him, if their relationship deepened, she would be trapped here forever, unable to escape. That terrified her. She wasn’t ready yet. Her feelings for him still didn’t outweigh her fears. Even now, when questioned, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth.
Zhao Donglin waited for a long time, but no answer came. A deep, sour disappointment filled his chest until it nearly brought tears to his eyes. Finally, he rolled out of bed and began to dress.
Meng Guqing heard the room fall silent for a moment, then came the sharp, jangling crash of bead curtains being flung aside. She turned her head to see the strings still swaying wildly, proof of how much force he’d used when storming out. He was gone. Yet instead of relief, a heavy, hollow feeling spread through her chest.
What was this?
The next day, she got her answer, she had fallen ill. Her nose was blocked, her head ached, her limbs felt weak and heavy. Probably from the day before, riding in the imperial hunting park, then soaking too long in the bath afterward. She’d caught a cold. The imperial physicians came and prescribed a few decoctions, but the medicine worked so slowly it seemed to do nothing.
She did have some modern medicine on hand, but they were mostly preventative and she rarely ever got sick. This time, though, the illness came on fiercely. She didn’t dare walk around for fear of spreading it, so she stayed shut in her quarters. News from outside trickled in slowly.
She heard that Jing Wang was furious with the emperor’s newfound obsession with the imperial park. Jing Wang had personally gone to see it and nearly got mauled by one of the newly imported leopards. Meanwhile, the emperor had laughed from the side and invited his uncle to watch two tigers fight. Enraged, Jing Wang had stormed off. Now ministers were grumbling that His Majesty could rarely be found in the audience hall unless one went to the imperial park. Rumor had it that he had taken after the decadent habits of the late Yan emperor and was falling into ruin.
But Feng Gonggong told her the truth: Zhao Donglin might be spending his days in the park, but he wasn’t merely idling. The men that Tan Ying had recruited had all been summoned there to form several teams, sometimes for ball games, sometimes for horse races. The training fields never had a moment’s peace. His so-called “entourage of attendants” had grown into an enormous force, over a thousand people already.
Perhaps it was because things had been so tense for so long, but once her body fell ill, her spirit seemed to wilt too. She felt languid every day. After reporting all this, Feng Gonggong lingered awkwardly, clearly hesitant to leave. Meng Guqing noticed his furtive glances and sighed inwardly.
Finally, he said, “If Her Majesty has any message for His Majesty, please tell this humble servant. I’ll be sure to relay every word faithfully.”
Fusang also threw her a meaningful look, clearly hoping she’d say something. Meng Guqing smiled faintly and said with a clear conscience, “No, nothing important. Go on. Serve His Majesty well.”
Feng Tianbao left looking dejected. He returned to the park to find the emperor in one of his dark moods. His Majesty hadn’t stepped foot in the harem for over a month, except for his daily visit to the Empress Dowager but he still passed by the gates of Fengyi Palace twice each day, always stopping short of knocking. And so poor Feng Tianbao had to deliver reports back and forth daily, only to be met each time with silence and an ever-longer face.
Why torture yourself like this?
Still, he braced himself to report. When he was finally dismissed with a curt “You may go,” he fled gratefully, only to hear the crash of breaking objects behind him. He and his foster son Wang Ning traded nervous glances, silently arguing over who should go back in. At last, as the senior eunuch, Feng Tianbao sighed and decided it had to be him. Just as he raised his hand to knock, the doors swung open and the emperor stormed out like a gust of wind.
“I’m going out of the palace. Don’t follow me.”
Outside the western gate of the imperial park lay a bustling marketplace, convenient enough that Zhao Donglin soon began sneaking out every day, wandering farther and farther. Of course, Feng Tianbao dared not truly let him go alone. What if the Empress Dowager asked? He hurried after him at once.
***
Unlike the restless atmosphere of the imperial park, Meng Guqing’s palace had grown too quiet. She had nothing to do, the emperor didn’t come, and none of the concubines dared disturb her while she was sick. Caiwei and Fusang tended to her with extra care, even training new maids to massage her shoulders and legs.
Sitting in a rocking chair under the veranda, surrounded by blooming flowers and slow-moving sunlight, Meng Guqing thought this was the kind of peaceful day she’d always longed for.
Only the Empress Dowager’s periodic visits disturbed her calm, every few days at most. Noble Consort Xu’s Jianjia Palace, on the other hand, was far more diligent. As if all the grievances between them had never happened, they now sent greetings three times a day. Even the fruits from her family’s estates, plums, apricots, loquats, were always delivered with an extra portion sent to Fengyi Palace.
The messenger was Guyu, one of Noble Consort Xu’s old maids, round-faced, bright-eyed, lively and courteous. She would personally bring the enamel fruit trays to Meng Guqing’s bedside. If the Empress hadn’t been too ill to eat, Guyu looked so earnest that Meng Guqing might have helped her peel the fruit herself.
Meng Guqing didn’t like to think badly of others, but she didn’t believe for a moment that Noble Consort Xu’s “kind gestures” were simply goodwill. Still, she made polite small talk, asking after the consort’s health, the prince’s appetite, nothing more. After a few days, Guyu stopped coming.
The palace grew quiet again but somehow, that too felt strange.
The maids, of course, didn’t know what had happened between the emperor and Empress that night. One moment they’d seemed perfectly fine, dining and laughing together and the next, the emperor had stormed out, not returning for over a week. Still, he hadn’t completely ignored her. The next morning, before they’d even sent for the physicians, the imperial medical bureau had arrived, clearly ordered by him. Every day since, Feng Gonggong had come to check on her health. So clearly, he still cared.
If he was so worried, why didn’t he show his face?
At least, no other concubine had been summoned to the park, that much was a relief.
Caiwei and Fusang could only try to comfort her. When they saw the Empress seemingly unbothered, almost cheerful in her newfound peace, they split up their efforts. Caiwei kept an ear to the ground for news of the emperor; Fusang reminded her mistress gently that she was no longer a county lady back home. Things had changed since the emperor began visiting Fengyi Palace so often, everyone knew the Empress was favored.
Even at the eldest prince’s full-month banquet, no matter how much the noble ladies flattered Noble Consort Xu, they still made sure to curry favor with the Empress. Some had even surrounded Meng Guqing outright. If not for her distaste for social games, she wouldn’t have left early that day with Xu Qiang.
While Fusang aired out winter quilts under the sun, Meng Guqing leaned over the table, sketching a blooming peony with charcoal. The drawing, though only in black and white, looked nearly alive. Seeing how absorbed she was, Fusang didn’t dare interrupt, she quietly opened the windows, let in a cool breeze, and set down a tray with flower tea, candied nuts, and dried fruits beside her mistress.
Just as she was slipping out, she bumped into Caiwei rushing back in.
“Where on earth have you been? You’ve been gone all afternoon, and it’s scorching hot! I told you to stay away from the imperial park, it’s practically connected to the outside world. We have to know our place.”
“I know, I know—but listen! I have to tell Her Majesty, it’s big news. The emperor’s been scolded!”
“What?”
Fusang let herself be dragged back into the room. Caiwei gulped down a cup of cold tea before blurting it all out.
Apparently, not everyone in court had stayed silent about the emperor’s decision to reopen the imperial park. One especially forthright scholar had spoken out: no petitions, no audiences. Instead, he’d written a grand, eloquent parallel prose essay that was already being passed around the capital.
It was a scathing piece, listing every ruler throughout history who’d lost his kingdom through indulgence and pleasure, even Zhou Wang and You Wang of Zhou were dragged in as examples. The essay ended with a heartfelt admonition to the present emperor, warning of the dangers of such extravagance.
The moment it was published, it caused an uproar in scholarly circles; no wonder, since its author was a famed literary master invited by the imperial academy itself.
And he had dared to criticize the emperor directly.
If Zhao Donglin retaliated, it would only prove the man’s accusations right. Everyone could see it for what it was, a bid for fame at the emperor’s expense. But even knowing that, the emperor could do nothing about it. How infuriating.
Caiwei, still flushed with excitement, finished breathlessly: “When I came back just now, I saw Noble Consort Xu heading straight for the imperial park with a whole group carrying the eldest prince in her arms and food boxes in her hands! Your Majesty, you should go too. His Majesty must be furious. Imagine! Someone daring to insult him like that, aren’t they afraid he’ll have their head cut off? And what’s wrong with the imperial park anyway? It doesn’t even harm anyone!”
Meng Guqing and Fusang exchanged a look of speechless exasperation. That girl didn’t read much and probably didn’t even know what “loyal remonstrance” or “deathbed advice” meant. Whoever wrote that memorial dared to submit it; if he got punished, it would almost be a reward. Zhao Donglin was stuck in a helpless situation; he couldn’t openly explain the real purpose behind establishing the imperial park.
“Is the man who wrote the memorial called Huang Gusheng?” Meng Guqing put down her pen and asked.
“How did Your Majesty know? You’d heard about it already? Is there someone in the palace even better informed than me?” Caiwei exclaimed in surprise. Meng Guqing got up from the kang and asked Fusang to fetch her clothes. “I feel much better today. I haven’t paid respects to the Empress Dowager for a few days, let’s go see her.”
After the spring and summer, the Empress Dowager’s health improved steadily. On the Dragon Boat Festival, she had attended the dragon boat races with Old Cheng Wangfei, and officials wrote essays praising the event—earning the Empress Dowager’s commendation. Coming from a scholarly family, the Empress Dowager had been reading from childhood and had always been intelligent and diligent. In her free time, she loved to appreciate literature and write poetry. Those around her, influenced by her, had at least some literary knowledge. Noble Consort Xu’s quick success in swaying the Empress Dowager’s opinion was due to her exceptional literary talent.
As for the matter of the emperor being criticized, the Empress Dowager already knew. In her view, loyal advice, even if harsh, was good. The more people brave enough to speak, the better. She held no ill feelings toward Huang Gusheng. At first, she had also disagreed with Zhao Donglin opening the imperial park, but seeing he hadn’t gone overboard and continued to be diligent in state affairs, she thought a young man’s eccentricity was trivial. The emperor was supreme, raising a few wild animals was nothing; a Zhao man should be bold and spirited.
When the Empress arrived, she asked Meng Guqing whether she had read Huang’s essay. The content was unremarkable, but the writing was elegant and refined, transcending common tastes. Meng Guqing naturally admired it. Her literary depth didn’t match that of the Empress Dowager or Noble Consort Xu, native women of the era, but she loved reading, especially miscellanies, and had a broad understanding. She not only recognized Huang Gusheng’s brilliance but knew his scholarship was vast and his style elegant. She even had two books compiled by him and informed the Empress Dowager that he was also well-versed in the philosophies of various schools.
The Empress Dowager, hearing this, became genuinely interested and insisted on meeting him. Meng Guqing accompanied her for a while but soon felt weary. She had been unlucky, catching a cold after bathing, and now, with the heat, symptoms of mild heatstroke had appeared. The trip alone was exhausting. Caiwei couldn’t understand her.
“Why did Your Majesty run over to the Empress Dowager just to praise that old Huang? The Empress Dowager rarely summons outsiders. Why should that Huang fellow get summoned just for criticizing the emperor? Doesn’t he feel ridiculously proud of himself?”
Meng Guqing leaned slightly on Caiwei and teased her, “You’re being unfair. The Empress Dowager respects talent. If Huang Gusheng was summoned, it’s on his merit. There’s nothing wrong with pride.”
“Talent means nothing if virtue is lacking…” Caiwei rolled her eyes. Then she spotted a distinct figure ahead, partially hidden by rocks, and quickly helped the Empress bow. Her heart fluttered, what if the emperor heard them talking? He was already angry, and the Empress praising someone who scolded him, he’d surely be furious. She berated herself for speaking too loudly.
Having not seen him for days, Meng Guqing was slow to react. She started to bow, but halfway, someone pulled her up. From the voice above, she could tell he looked displeased.
“You’re sick and shouldn’t be running around like this. Do you want to make it worse?”
She wanted to argue that she hadn’t been wandering, paying respects to the Empress Dowager was customary, but she held back. Feeling weak, when he tugged her with force, she leaned into him. Caiwei obediently let go of her hand, and the emperor scooped Meng Guqing into his arms, turning toward Fengyi Palace.
Caiwei followed at a distance of about a zhang, urging her mistress on and trying to ease the tension. Perhaps they could coax him into staying for dinner and avoid any trouble. But along the way, the front two remained silent. Upon arriving at Fengyi Palace, the emperor set her down at the entrance. Seeing she did not speak, he simply turned and left.
Caiwei sighed like Fusang would and gave up trying to advise the Empress. Even Noble Consort Xu knew the emperor’s mood was bad; she had brought the eldest prince to appease him. Why couldn’t their Empress show the same concern? She would have to pay attention to the palace dynamics to protect the Empress, as big news kept coming one after another.
On a blazing midsummer afternoon, Meng Guqing had walked a bit after lunch and lay down on the kang by the long window, planning to nap. Everyone else, except those on duty, had gone to rest. Caiwei, not one to nap at noon, rushed in with explosive news: Huang Gusheng, summoned by the Empress Dowager to lecture, had offended her and was thrown into the emperor’s wild boar enclosure in the imperial park. As the saying went, “one pig, two bears, three tigers”—the people feared pigs more than tigers. Huang Gusheng, in his fifties, was lucky to survive the boar. The park had probably gone into chaos.
Caiwei flailed with excitement, wishing she could fly there. Meng Guqing, startled awake, asked her to tell the story carefully. Even without details, she guessed the situation: Huang Gusheng, a master of the schools of thought, was brilliant but rigid, a staunch Confucian. The Empress Dowager, versed in worldly affairs and following Daoist principles in later years, preferred harmony.
When Huang appeared, the Empress Dowager presented a copy of Laozi and sought his opinion. But Huang Gusheng, either too absorbed in scholarship or overly pleased by the praise of his memorial, disregarded her presence. He dismissed Laozi, belittled her thinking, and infuriated her.
Originally, Meng Guqing had recommended Huang Gusheng without hoping for misfortune. If he succeeded, that was his fate. But Huang Gusheng, acting pompous and self-important, had provoked the Empress Dowager, and now his misfortune was inevitable.
The domestic pigs weighed over 200 jin, wild boars had tusks and were agile and fierce. Meng Guqing feared fatalities, but news soon arrived: the emperor, considering the Empress Dowager’s reputation, had given Huang Gusheng a dagger when he was thrown into the enclosure. Huang Gusheng then managed to fend off the boar and survive.
The absurdity of it all was hilarious. Huang Gusheng’s newfound fame was instantly ruined; people only remembered his boar duel, not his scholarly dignity. He withdrew under the pretense of recuperation and had his family retrieve his circulated memorial, hoping a new story would overshadow this one.
The palace buzzed with discussion all day. Caiwei was the most excited, skipping meals to gather news. Huang Gusheng, bowing awkwardly and limping, had returned home from the park, unable to smile. Seeing her happy, Meng Guqing’s mood lifted. Since entering the palace, the girls hadn’t laughed so freely.
Fusang warned, “If you catch a breeze, your stomach will hurt later.” Caiwei laughed until her stomach ached, but Fusang poked her waist, dampening her spirits. Amid their playful scuffle, Feng Gonggong’s report arrived.
Meng Guqing looked up to see the man who had not entered her hall for a long time, standing at the doorway with a smile, waving away the bowing palace maids and sitting at the table. He acted as if nothing had happened. Meng Guqing, letting bygones be bygones, smiled. “Has His Majesty eaten?”
Finally acknowledging her, Zhao Donglin sat beside her, studying her still-pale face.
“Don’t worry, just have them prepare the meal. Are you feeling better? I heard the Imperial Medical Bureau gave you two more doses. If it still doesn’t work, I’ll take you to a good clinic tomorrow.”
Even without coming close, he worried about her medicine, that was thoughtful. Meng Guqing hid the complex feelings stirring in her chest.
“Much better. Just a lingering tail end. My body’s usually strong; when I do get sick, it hangs on longer.”
“Hmm, the Empress has lost weight.”
She hadn’t felt thinner, the heat reduced her appetite, though snacks remained abundant. Seeing him, though, she realized he had slimmed; his body was leaner, the “play” in the park was rigorous training under the watchful eyes of Jing Wang and meddlesome scholars like Huang Gusheng. It hadn’t been easy.
Meng Guqing understood and admired him, willing to support him within her means but she couldn’t give what he wanted. Neither would yield; collisions only caused mutual harm. Zhao Donglin stared unblinkingly into her gentle eyes, realizing how much he wanted to see her. His spirits sank at the thought of anything else. He sent Feng Tianbao to gauge her feelings; even without concern or inquiry, the next encounter was the same. He chastised himself: why get upset over such small things? If she didn’t want to comply, then so be it. They had a long future. Patience was never his shortcoming.
The regent had been like an oppressive shadow for ten years, he had endured it. He loved the Empress; his heart was full of her. Could he not even give her time to adjust? Moreover, what harm had she ever done to him? She had always supported him. Outsiders wrote sour admonishments, enraging him, yet he had to maintain the image of a magnanimous ruler to scholars.
Only the Empress… Zhao Donglin couldn’t resist. He leaned over, embracing Meng Guqing, rubbing his cheek against hers, as if finally finding a haven for his heart. His voice was full of grievance and compromise: “Empress, I won’t force you anymore. Will you stay like this, caring for me, favoring me, please?”
Meng Guqing’s movements paused slightly. She guessed that he must have overheard what she and Caiwei had said that day. He probably thought she had recommended Huang Gusheng to the Empress Dowager on purpose, just to help him vent his anger, introducing someone whose philosophies clashed with the old lady’s, letting him suffer a setback. But could she even explain that wasn’t her intention?
The only reason she remembered Huang Gusheng from Wuzhao’s history was entirely because of his daughter, Huang Xian, too famous for her own good. The celebrated author of On Women’s Virtue and Lives of the Chaste Women, she dragged women into the dust, writing things like: If your husband is angry or beats you, you must not talk back; you must avoid the conflict and yield. Or: When giving birth to a daughter, you have sinned; you must sleep under the bed for three days in shame to atone for it.
Meng Guqing could never understand how a woman could write such things to make life harder for her own kind. It disgusted her so deeply that the author had been burned into her memory and by extension, she had come to deeply doubt the upbringing behind such a woman. To raise such a deranged daughter, what kind of father could he have been? So when Huang Gusheng’s remonstrative essay appeared, she immediately thought of Huang Xian. Her dislike of him was pure transference.
After Huang Xian’s essays were published, they were immediately praised and embraced by hordes of men, and from that point on, the days of women truly descended into misery. Historically, Emperor Zhao Donglin, seeking to curry favor with scholars and the moralists, even brought Huang Xian into the palace and granted her the title of Consort Xian. Just thinking about that made Meng Guqing’s skin crawl.
Her raised hand came down to rest on his back, and she stroked it gently like coaxing a child. “Mm. Your Majesty shouldn’t let Huang Gusheng stay in the capital. His kind of moral preaching, who can stand it? Don’t let him spoil the air.”
