Noble Consort Xu came only that once and never again. Twice, her maid Hongfu came in her stead, saying the consort missed her mother and wished to summon Madam Yang into the palace to keep her company, begging the Empress’s permission.
But upon returning to the palace, Meng Guqing had immediately issued an order of seclusion, not to prevent communication between the inner and outer courts, but simply because, in such a precarious time, caution was necessary. In Noble Consort Xu’s eyes, though, this must have felt targeted, after all, her family had always been the most active in the palace.
Meng Guqing hadn’t meant to make things difficult, but she also refused to set a precedent or make exceptions. Naturally, she denied the request. From then on, Jianjia Palace fell silent. Aside from receiving daily supplies, hardly anyone came or went, and the eldest prince was never seen again.
This time, Meng Guqing had completely offended Noble Consort Xu. In truth, from the moment Zhao Donglin declared his stance, she had already placed herself opposite all the other women in the harem.
The tree longed for stillness, but the wind would not cease. She didn’t wish to harm anyone but she lacked the ferocity to fight either. She understood herself well: to call it “unattached” sounded noble; in truth, she was simply indolent and timid, passive by nature.
She didn’t like to compete, nor was she good at it. Yet the harem had always been a battlefield without smoke. She wasn’t suited for it at all. That was one reason she had always resisted Zhao Donglin’s advances, she had considered all this carefully.
Still, however fearful she was, she couldn’t just hide forever. Zhao Donglin had “stirred up” such a great storm; she was already caught in the whirlpool. She would simply meet each wave as it came, block the soldiers with generals, stop the flood with earth.
Other concubines, unlike Noble Consort Xu, had no princes to rely on. Though anxious, they didn’t dare disturb the Empress. The Taifeis, however, had no such scruples, being elders, Wei Taifei and Liu Taifei came to Fengyi Palace twice a day to inquire after news. Their words were full of both worry and veiled complaint. If they’d had sons, they might have begged to leave the palace altogether to avoid disaster.
Since the Empress had not left, they dared not suggest it first. Tradition dictated no Taifei could return to her natal home to “retire,” and at this point, even going to the imperial mausoleum to “mourn” would be too late.
Meng Guqing was mild-tempered, but hearing their same complaints day after day still left her weary. Once she’d finally soothed them and sent them off, Fusang returned bringing another visitor, Gu Taifei.
Gu Taifei appeared composed, whether she was truly calm or merely pretending, it was hard to say. She even found the presence of mind to comfort the Empress and help persuade the other Taifeis. Meng Guqing was grateful for her support and personally invited her to sit.
“Your Majesty, don’t take my two elder sisters’ words to heart,” the Taifei said kindly. “They’ve had terrible luck all their lives, toiling away in the late emperor’s harem, seldom seeing him, and with useless families behind them. They’ve lived through bitter days. Just when they thought peace had finally come, our emperor, being an ambitious man, must have great undertakings of his own, such a man can’t sit idle. But Heaven bless him; he’ll surely return safely. When he does, they’ll quiet down.”
Meng Guqing knew both Wei Taifei and Liu Taifei’s backgrounds. They’d been taken from commoner families during the late emperor’s campaigns, favored briefly, then forgotten.
Wei Taifei had been able to bear Princess Changle only because her close friends pleaded on her behalf and reminded the emperor of her existence, leading to one night’s favor. Liu Taifei was even less fortunate, a complete nobody, childless, kept only because Wu Dynasty had no custom of burying concubines with the dead. The merciful Empress Dowager allowed her to live out her days in the harem. Her family, however, was a constant drain, rumor had it that half her palace stipend went to support them.
How could Meng Guqing take offense at them? Gu Taifei’s effort to speak on their behalf was rare kindness indeed. With the Empress Dowager away, it was convenient to entrust palace affairs to a respected elder like her.
In the days that followed, Gu Taifei came frequently to Fengyi Palace and grew well-acquainted. She also heard news of Zhao Donglin sooner than anyone.
At Pingyu Pass, the current commander was an old minister who had fought alongside the late emperor, a man named Cheng Zhijie. Though stationed far away, he was well-informed about the court’s situation. His own rank wasn’t high; as the saying went, when gods fought, mortals stayed out of the way. He was content to quietly do his duty.
Who could have predicted that the emperor himself would suddenly appear at Pingyu Pass? All eyes immediately turned to him. Cheng dared not let the emperor cross the border, beyond lay the Tatars, fierce and bloodthirsty. If anything happened to His Majesty, Cheng’s head would roll. Under enormous pressure, he ordered the emperor’s troops stopped and the next day received an urgent letter, commanding him by all means not to let the emperor pass beyond the gates.
The letter was sent by Li Wei, one of the council ministers, a man known to be on close terms with Jing Wang. It was plain as day that Li Wei’s words likely reflected the Wangye’s intent.
When Cheng Zhijie received the letter, he nearly exploded with fury. Does he take me for an idiot ready to die? If he were to let the emperor leave the pass and get himself killed, what then? He had stopped the emperor for the sake of loyalty, eating the ruler’s grain meant serving the ruler faithfully, and for the greater good of the court. That was his duty.
But now, with this letter in his hand, his pure intentions would be twisted into selfish ones. Others might think he was part of Jing Wang’s faction, blindly following orders. Wouldn’t that destroy him?
And when the emperor found out, would he ever forgive him?
Cheng Zhijie’s anxiety poured out like rain, but before long, a message arrived from Pengcheng, over a hundred li away from Pingyu Pass. The local commander reported spotting suspicious Tatar movements beyond the border, sneaky and unclear in their intent.
Cheng Zhijie had a routine habit of patrolling beyond the pass, but this message gave him pause. It all seemed too coincidental. The emperor arrived, and suddenly, the Tatars appeared too? Could they be in league somehow?
It was one of his subordinates who jolted him to his senses. “General, you’re not sure how to deal with Lord Li’s letter, right? Blocking the emperor’s exit is loyalty. Going out on patrol is duty. Just do what you’re supposed to do. Even if word reaches higher up later, as long as we follow protocol, what could be wrong with that?”
That single sentence was like waking from a dream. Cheng Zhijie immediately gave the order to prepare for patrol. He would never involve himself in factional strife, that much he knew. His guiding rule was simple: do your job well and keep yourself clear of politics.
As for the willful emperor, he hadn’t punished him for the obstruction, nor had he forced his way out using his soldiers. That alone proved he was a wise and reasonable ruler. And if that letter had, in truth, been orchestrated by the emperor himself, then perhaps he wasn’t the reckless young man the rumors claimed.
The news that the emperor had successfully passed through the gates reached Meng Guqing the next day. What followed were days upon days of victory reports, clever feints and counterfeints, luring the enemy deep, trapping them like turtles in a jar. At the final moment, the emperor personally led his five thousand men to seal the last gap in the encirclement and took the field himself.
Each dispatch that arrived in the capital was like a thunderclap, shaking the court to its core. The empire was ablaze with excitement.
Gu Taifei came every day to hear the latest news, smiling at Meng Guqing: “See? I told you, the emperor is blessed by Heaven. The Zhao family has always been favored by our ancestors. Born to the battlefield, they’re like tigers among men. You never saw my Jun’er, from the moment he could walk, he played with little bows and arrows. The late emperor even had a crescent bow made for him, with golden arrowheads. He loved it so much, he even slept with it.”
Gold was soft, harmless, but Meng Guqing had heard from the Empress Dowager that Zhao Donglin, too, had played with a golden slingshot as a child. The two brothers had been deeply loved by the late emperor.
If Zhao Jun had lived, a prince’s title would have been guaranteed. Then Gu Taifei wouldn’t have to spend her old age still mingling with court ladies and struggling for gifts. Seeing the sadness that crossed her face, Meng Guqing couldn’t help but feel sympathy.
When the news finally came that the emperor had achieved a great victory and was preparing to return, Meng Guqing at last released the breath she’d been holding for days.
The twenty-ninth of the tenth month was the Double Ninth Festival. Only a few days away, and word came that the Empress Dowager would return to the capital to celebrate. The whole palace bustled with joy. Zhao Donglin’s triumph had lifted everyone’s spirits. The Empress Dowager declared that, as in the New Year, there would be a grand banquet inviting all the noblewomen, meaning the celebration would be no small affair.
Once again, Fengyi Palace was thrown into the usual pre-festival bustle, busy, but orderly.
One autumn afternoon, as she recalled the scarlet maples of the Shanglin Palace, Meng Guqing said to Caiwei: “If I’d known everything would go this smoothly, we could’ve just stayed at the palace there. I heard the crabs in Mingyue Lake are plump this year, imagine eating crabs and watching the red maples. That’d be a day worth trading nothing for.”
“If Your Majesty wants crabs, that’s easy. There are plenty on our estate. My brother said they’re raised right in the rice fields. Since the emperor is returning soon, the palace restrictions should be lifted soon too. We can have two baskets delivered right away.”
Meng Guqing shook her head. The dust hasn’t settled yet. The closer one was to the end, the less one could afford to be careless. If she lifted the palace lockdown just for the sake of eating crabs early, people would gossip, wasn’t that slapping her own face?
The higher one stood, the more one had to set an example. Otherwise, words alone could drown a person. She hadn’t forgotten how, when Noble Consort Xu’s pregnancy scandal broke, the rumors nearly tore her apart and how she herself had been slandered afterward, accused of being involved in Xu’s poisoning attempt. The true culprit still hadn’t been found.
Thinking of that, her momentary ease vanished. She grew even more cautious, inspecting every preparation herself. Seeing her prudence, the senior palace women began to rein in the more careless attendants, scolding them until they barely dared to breathe.
Not wanting to intervene in their discipline, Meng Guqing withdrew to a quiet courtyard deep within Fengyi Palace.
Compared to the grandeur of the front halls, this courtyard was serene and refined, surrounded by tall green bamboo that cast a cool shade by day. At night, when the breeze stirred, the bamboo tails whispered and the air was much cooler than elsewhere. After returning from the Shanglin Palace, Meng Guqing had it cleaned and refurbished. She often came here at night to cool off, moving a few of her favorite books here too.
Now, under a round moon hanging over the willows, she leaned against the railing, watching the reflection of the moon in the water. Fusang was ahead; Caiwei had wandered off somewhere. Just as she was about to call for her, the beaded curtain chimed softly.
She turned and began, “You went off again—”
But halfway through, she froze, eyes wide. “You, how did you get in here?”
The man before her had absolutely no sense of being an uninvited guest. His smile was dazzling enough to daze, yet Meng Guqing dared not forget how dangerous he was.
“Walked in on two legs,” he said lightly.
That wasn’t what she meant at all. He really—! She didn’t even know what words to use for him. Did he have any idea how dangerous this was? If anyone found out that a man was hiding inside the Empress’s quarters, could she possibly survive it? Even if she hadn’t “hidden” him willingly, the fact remained that he was there. The palace lived on rumors, if caught, it’d be “caught red-handed.”
She hadn’t forgotten their last encounter either. This man was ruthless. If he realized she didn’t welcome him, he might not let her off so easily. Her mind spun through a dozen thoughts, but she kept her voice calm, turning slightly aside so as not to face him directly.
“I did not know the young Shizi would visit so late. To what do I owe the honor?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of an amused, unreadable smile. After a moment, she understood, it must be because she’d once vowed she didn’t care who he was, yet afterward had secretly inquired about him. To him, that must have seemed hypocritical.
Embarrassed but maintaining composure, she tried to keep things formal, businesslike, even though she had no idea what business they had.
Xiao Shuo, seeing her upright and untouchable demeanor, snorted inwardly. A wicked impulse stirred within him. His lips curved in a beautiful smile as he said, in words that froze the air “I came to tell you, your emperor has been assassinated. His life or death is unknown. What will you do, now that you’re about to be a widow?”
The sudden blow drained the color from Meng Guqing’s face but she quickly steadied herself. Impossible. How could the emperor, who fought fierce Tatar warriors unscathed, be assassinated after victory? He wasn’t defenseless, either. Yet, remembering that Jing Wang had been silent for over a month since the emperor’s departure, her heart wavered.
She looked up at the youth leaning lazily against a red pillar. This man slipped into the palace as though it were his own courtyard. From their past encounters, Meng Guqing knew he wasn’t the obedient type. If she dared to imagine, he must have his own secret reason for being here.
And yet, all this time, not a single scandal had reached the public ear. Clearly, he wasn’t here for the women. The first time she saw him had been in the Wenyuan Pavilion, walking as if it were his own study, so at ease that she’d mistaken him for a library attendant.
Who would linger so often in a study? A hostage prince from a small vassal state, taken from home at ten years old; if he had ambition, he wouldn’t wait idly for fate. The regent likely hadn’t bothered assigning him tutors, so he must have been self-taught.
All that was conjecture, of course. But she and he shared one thing, neither wanted the palace to discover him. For someone so adept at moving unseen, it wasn’t strange he knew secrets others didn’t. Meng Guqing realized his news was probably true, even if she desperately wished it weren’t.
Still, she asked the essential question: “Why are you telling me this? What do you gain from it?”
After all, they had no friendship between them. Was he… helping her? That made no sense.
Her swift recovery and sharp question surprised Xiao Shuo. But clever people were preferable, they knew how to think for themselves. And he was deeply curious: when faced with a true threat to her life, would this gentle, virtuous Empress bare her fangs?
“I not only know the emperor was attacked,” he said softly, “I also know what trump card he left for you. It’s quite a move. Don’t let it go to waste.”
Such venomous words, smiling as he said them, his malice was beyond anything she’d imagined.
Meng Guqing wanted nothing more than to ignore him, but she needed to confirm the truth. Restless, she stood, ready to leave but could she really leave him alone here? If someone saw him? She couldn’t think of a decent way to order him out.
Seeing her hesitation, Xiao Shuo’s eyes turned cold. There were plenty who didn’t welcome him, one more or less made no difference. Silently, he stepped back, his tall figure swallowed by the darkness until all trace of him vanished.
Once he was gone, Meng Guqing hurried out to find the emperor’s hidden guards, the few Zhao Donglin had left for her. The palace gates were already locked; she might well return empty-handed, but doing nothing was unbearable.
She had just reached the front of Fengyi Palace when Wang Ning, godson of Feng Gonggong Tianbao, rushed over, drenched in sweat, face ashen with panic.
At the sight of him, dread gripped her heart.
He choked out in a low voice, “Your Majesty… the emperor is most likely gone. On his return, between Pingyu Pass and Shanglin Palace, in a narrow mountain gorge, he was ambushed. He was injured and… has disappeared.”
Meng Guqing pressed him for confirmation. “Are you sure? Is the messenger reliable? He truly hasn’t been found?”
Wang Ning nodded frantically. “It happened this morning. It’s been four hours. They searched and found nothing, only then did the shadow guards dare send word back.”
She clearly didn’t like him yet when she heard the news, her chest felt as though someone had shot an arrow straight through her heart. It took a long time for the pain to ease. She drew a deep breath, forced herself to calm down, and said, “Don’t make a fuss. Keep sending people to look for him, but don’t alert the Empress Dowager yet. I still have a few men; tomorrow morning, go to the Imperial Park to find them. Send them out to search and gather news.”
The next morning, Meng Guqing rose in silence, her face deathly pale. Confronted with a table full of lavish breakfast dishes, she had no appetite at all. Yet she still had to force herself to face the endless palace affairs and people. The two Taifeis, Wei Taifei and Liu Taifei, arrived together again, this time all smiles, calm and at ease. Meng Guqing, afraid that she couldn’t fully conceal her emotions and might give something away, excused herself by claiming she hadn’t slept well and asked them to come another day. The Empress’ expression truly looked terrible; the two Taifeis saw that she had no intention of entertaining them, and since they had no pressing matters, they took their leave.
In truth, her sleeplessness wasn’t just an excuse. She had spent the whole night trapped in nightmares: one moment, it was his cold, indifferent face when he lifted her bridal veil; another, it was his anguished questioning, asking why she refused to be with him. The most dreadful scene was of him riding a tall warhorse through a narrow gorge. Once the entire troop entered, boulders rained down from above, followed by a storm of arrows that blotted out the sky. She saw him struck through the heart by an arrow and the pain in her dream felt like her own heart had been pierced. The final image froze on that night he left.
He had been so reluctant to go, holding her face in both hands, kissing the corner of her lips, as if afraid there would be no chance left to speak. “I haven’t even truly been your husband yet. I’m scared I won’t make it back. If I fail… in our next life, let’s marry again, all right? I promise I won’t bully you this time.”
Recalling those murmured words made her eyes sting and her chest ache. If she had known he cared that deeply, what would it have mattered if she had given herself to him? Better that than now when even in her dreams he still haunted her. Meng Guqing buried her face in her palms, unwilling to cry before her maids. But she was given no time to collect herself, for Wang Ning arrived, this time carrying an imperial decree.
Only then did Meng Guqing realize what Xiao Shuo had meant the previous night when he said he had left her a “way out.” He had arranged to support the Eldest Prince’s ascension, appointing Jing Wang as regent. Jing Wang was far less clever than the previous Regent; as long as she flattered him and didn’t fight over military power, he would have no legitimate reason to rebel. Meanwhile, the southern scholars Zhao Donglin had been cultivating for the past year were no ordinary men; one side had might, the other intellect. If the two factions ever clashed, who would win was uncertain. In this way, she could protect the young prince, keeping him alive between these forces until he grew up and could act on his own.
She had to admit, he had thought it all through. He’d even specified that she, as Empress Dowager, could govern from behind the curtain. But wasn’t he being far too presumptuous? When had she ever shown any desire for power? She had already found his affection burdensome; how could he think she would gladly serve his schemes just because he granted her a lofty title? Meng Guqing gave a bitter laugh. Yet after calming down, she couldn’t ignore the logic: a “way out” was something one took only when there was no other choice, a path of retreat that was also a dead end. If anything happened to him, wouldn’t all the women left in the palace meet that same dead end?
What truly made Meng Guqing’s blood run cold was the final line of that decree, the fatal flaw in all his careful arrangements. When her eyes brushed across the words “to be buried with him,” she couldn’t even bear to read further.
Wang Ning knelt for a long time, not daring to move when the Empress made no sound. At last, he said softly, “The night before His Majesty departed, he told me repeatedly, the Empress must put the greater good first. If Noble Consort Xu lives, her family will use the young emperor as a puppet to command the nobles, and Great Wu will fall. Please, Your Majesty, fulfill His Majesty’s final wish. Before news spreads, strike first, use any means necessary. His Majesty knew you would hesitate, so he instructed me to prepare in advance. I have already found several strong old palace women from the Cold Palace. As long as Your Majesty summons Noble Consort Xu here… leave the rest to your servant.”
Yes, Wang Ning was right about one thing; if Noble Consort Xu lived, even if Great Wu survived, Meng Guqing herself would be the first to perish. In all dynasties, there had been many Empress Dowagers but never a case where a young emperor revered his stepmother while rejecting his birth mother. This fate prepared for Noble Consort Xu was also Zhao Donglin’s “way out” for her.
Now Meng Guqing finally understood why Xiao Shuo had worn that amused expression that day. A woman who had never killed even a chicken was now expected to take a human life. Her pale, delicate hands would soon be stained with innocent blood, beauty ripped apart in an instant. She didn’t bother to curse his twisted nature. Instead, she ignored Wang Ning’s words, rolled up the decree, and said firmly, “No. I will not harm Noble Consort Xu. If she lives, perhaps her family might seize power but there’s an equal chance they’ll remain loyal, protecting their grandson and helping him become a worthy emperor. I told Noble Consort Xu once that she trusted His Majesty too little; now I must say, His Majesty trusted her too little as well.”
Perhaps her commoner’s heart was too deeply rooted, she could never grasp the allure of power. To her, spending the rest of her life trapped in the harem, even as Empress Dowager, held no joy. Compared to that, even death seemed less frightening. Most of all, she simply could not believe Zhao Donglin would truly die at twenty. “I don’t believe His Majesty is gone,” she told Wang Ning. “Until I see him, I won’t accept it. Nor can I resign myself. You’ve delivered the decree, your duty is done. Now do everything you can to find him. If he’s not found by tomorrow, summon the Empress Dowager back to take charge—”
Before she could finish, a shadow flickered past the window. Wang Ning reacted faster, leaping out to give chase. Moments later, he returned, dragging someone with him, it was Gu Taifei.
Meng Guqing pretended nothing had happened and invited the consort to sit. But the Gu Taifei refused to heed her good intentions to stay uninvolved. Her expression was colder than ever as she said, “His Majesty did this for your sake, Your Majesty, you should obey him. Do you think Noble Consort Xu will let you live peacefully as Empress Dowager? Do you think she’s really as pure and virtuous as she appears? You’re too young, too naïve about the dangers of the palace. If the Empress Dowager were here, she’d follow His Majesty’s decree without hesitation. She’d never allow the Xu family to stand above her. If you disobey now, when the Empress Dowager returns, she’ll blame you.”
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