After days of heavy snow, the sky finally cleared. The ice and snow on the glazed roof tiles melted, washing the blue tiles to a clear brilliance. Beneath the eaves, lines of dripping water fell in steady rhythm. The air was knife-cold, stinging any exposed skin until it nearly split.
Meng Guqing had never known such bitter cold. The heated floors in her chambers had been kept burning for days; she barely stepped outside unless necessary. Around midday, when it was slightly warmer, she would visit the Empress Dowager. This time, Gu Taifei was there too, chatting beside the Dowager. After Meng Guqing gave her greetings and discussed a few palace matters, they left together.
Gu Taifei’s family came from the noble ranks of Donghu. Though she had entered the palace late, she had been fortunate, bearing a prince within a year or two, winning the late emperor’s favor. Even on his deathbed, the late emperor had asked the Empress Dowager to care for her and her son. Meng Guqing had heard that the prince, five years younger than Zhao Donglin, was clever and well-behaved, often following his elder brother around and familiar with Noble Consort Xu. In recent days, the Taifei had been visiting Jianjia Palace quite frequently.
She was barely in her thirties, still retaining traces of her former beauty beneath a kind smile. Seeing that she had followed her out, Meng Guqing paused. Taifei caught up, walking half a step behind her, and said, “I’d long wanted to visit Your Majesty, but between lessons and the Empress Dowager’s illness, there’s never been time. I haven’t yet thanked Your Majesty for allowing me to open a class and teach, it has eased much of my loneliness.”
The hardest life in the deep palace, Meng Guqing knew, wasn’t that of the Empress Dowager or the overlooked concubines, it was those aging consorts of the late emperor, left childless and without favor, their stipends meager, their days empty. Since being assigned to teach the palace concubines music, Gu Taifei had not only found purpose, but also a small fortune from the gifts of those eager to please her. She could now even assist her family outside the palace. Meng Guqing knew this and only smiled politely, thinking Gu Taifei modest.
But Gu Taifei truly wished to show goodwill. As a senior to the young emperor, she had watched him grow from a child to a young man and knew him well. At the end of their conversation, she presented Meng Guqing with a key, to the royal library, Wenyuan Pavilion.
The pavilion contained rare manuscripts collected since the former emperor’s reign, one-of-a-kind editions, imperial calligraphy, and confidential letters to high ministers. Though precious, it wasn’t exactly forbidden territory. Located in the northern corner of the Imperial Garden, not far from Fengyi Palace, its key had long been stored in the inner treasury. The Taifei said that it also held the Veritable Records compiled since the emperor’s ascension, a long-standing tradition of the previous dynasty. If one wished to understand the young emperor deeply, this was not a bad place to start.
When Meng Guqing returned to Fengyi Palace, she set the key in the drawer beside her mirror and took up a book to pass the time. Perhaps in everyone else’s eyes, helping a neglected empress regain favor was a shortcut to advancement, a product of worldly thinking. Meng Guqing didn’t think they were wrong, yet after all her effort, she only felt weary and disheartened.
Since others already viewed her with suspicion, why bother courting trouble? She and the emperor had not known each other long; they still had years of interaction ahead. Better to maintain calm relations than to provoke confrontation with one who held all the power.
Indeed, those who care too much suffer more. Whatever one seeks becomes the chain that binds them. Better to let things be, after all, it would end in her deposition anyway. Thinking thus, Meng Guqing stopped dwelling on it. Leaning against the window frame, bathed in golden sunlight, her face grew warm and soft. The maids below, seeing the empress drifting into drowsiness, dared not disturb her, quietly withdrawing.
But the peace was broken by the arrival of Feng Tianbao. Awakened by Caiwei’s gentle push, Meng Guqing received the smiling eunuch through the window. He had come not for urgent business, but to deliver a gift, saying that Her Majesty had been toiling for the Empress Dowager, caring for the Noble Consort, and managing palace affairs, and that His Majesty wished to reward her with “a small token.”
When Meng Guqing saw the pair of pearls under the red silk, each round as a dumpling, she was genuinely surprised. Even in her modern world, she knew how rare such Dongzhu were—harvested from deep sea by divers, consuming immense labor. The annual tribute to the palace barely filled two hands. Even her wedding crown had only four pearls. Now the emperor had sent her two without reason?
Unearned gifts were hard to accept. Meng Guqing hesitated, but Feng Tianbao, fearing her refusal, held the pearls up himself and showered her with flattering words, ending earnestly, “His Majesty said, if Your Majesty refuses, I need not return.”
Hearing this, Meng Guqing guessed his intent. The young emperor must be using the pearls as an apology. If he had wished to make it formal, he could have issued an edict, she could hardly disobey imperial command. Yet he chose to present them as a gift instead, showing at least some regard for her feelings. She had never expected an emperor to apologize; he was not even twenty yet. Many grown men lacked such thoughtfulness. That he refrained from wielding power to force her softened her heart considerably.
Before she could respond, a young eunuch rushed in with urgent news, cutting Feng Tianbao short. Hearing the report, both he and Meng Guqing lost all mind for small matters.
It turned out that Han Gugu, usually the most reliable, had gone to inspect the Imperial Ancestral Temple that morning. She should have been back in two hours, yet half a day had passed with no sign. Trouble had struck outside.
The Great Wu dynasty had replaced the Former Yan barely ten years ago, and memories of the old dynasty still lingered among the people and perhaps even among officials. Most dared not voice dissent only out of fear of the new regime’s might. But now, an incident had given them an excuse to murmur again.
The day’s thaw had allowed work to resume at the ancestral temple. As soon as Shou Wang, the emperor’s uncle and overseer, entered the site with his men, they were met with a chilling sight: one of the gold-lacquered dragon heads at the base of the steps was weeping tears of blood. Both sides of the stairs had one such dragon head each, normally unremarkable, but now its red tears gleamed like fresh blood. Not only Shou Wang but over a hundred craftsmen witnessed it. Panic spread instantly, rumors that Heaven disapproved of the Great Wu’s legitimacy began to circulate.
When the report reached the palace, the emperor immediately sent men to investigate. Meng Guqing was slightly relieved. Under the belief that imperial authority was Heaven’s mandate, it was rare for an emperor not to panic at such “omens.” That he had the sense to seek the real cause spoke well of him. Still, the matter caused uproar throughout the court and harem, the people uneasy, the Empress Dowager alarmed.
In her youth, the Empress Dowager had once been told she possessed the aura of a mother of the nation, was it now coming true? Though she showed no reaction, hearing that the Empress was keeping order and forbidding gossip in Fengyi Palace pleased her greatly.
Still bedridden, she sent the Empress to the front to observe matters.
It was Meng Guqing’s first time in Huangji Hall. The front study was magnificent and dazzling; the back chamber, where the young emperor worked, was far plainer. The attendants moved with reverent silence, Feng Tianbao solemn-faced.
The emperor sat behind a long desk, staring blankly at memorials. Feng Tianbao had to call him three times before he looked up and, seeing Meng Guqing, his expression eased.
“Empress, why are you here?” he asked, standing to lift her from her curtsey.
His hands were large, the joints slender and elegant, full of strength yet cold to the touch. Though the room was heated, with braziers and incense burning, and even a pot of hot water steaming nearby, his fingers were still icy.
When Meng Guqing raised her gaze, she caught in his dark eyes a flicker of unease. Perhaps, since ascending the throne, he had never known a single day of true imperial dignity. During his boyhood, when he most needed confidence, the regent’s ambition had stifled his every spark of imperial pride. So even if he appeared calm, did he still harbor deep self-doubt?
They sat together by the window on a low couch. His grip was tight, as if drawing strength from her. She let him hold her hand.
Feng Tianbao served tea and withdrew quietly.
Meng Guqing smiled and said, “The Empress Dowager is thinking of Your Majesty. She asks what you’d like for supper, she’s already ordered the small kitchen to prepare it and will have it sent over later.”
“How is the Empress Dowager’s health? Her spirits? I didn’t visit her today, don’t want to tire her out with worry.”
“The Empress Dowager is well. She took her medicine at noon, said the sun was nice, and sat by the window trimming flower branches. She was even discussing with Gu Taifei where to go to escape the summer heat. Before I came, she was telling Fangchun Gugu to find an old ginseng root, she said she wants to stew a duck with it tonight for soup.”
Hearing that the Empress Dowager was completely unaffected, Zhao Donglin felt a bit more at ease. The Empress’s clear eyes shimmered; her smile was gentle as water. Her soft-spoken tone made his attention waver, he found himself staring at her face, distracted.
He was worried about the situation outside, but not a trace of that could show and he didn’t want to show it. His mother often reminded him: he was the emperor, ruler of all under heaven, and even if Mount Tai collapsed before him, he must not change his expression. But all he had was a shell of majesty and power. Raised under constant pressure and denial, half a year on the throne hadn’t yet nurtured the self-assured confidence of a sovereign. Especially this business of divine punishment, so mysterious and uncanny, had battered what little confidence he’d begun to grow.
Fortunately, the officer Li Weiwei whom the young emperor sent to investigate acted swiftly. By dusk, the matter was finally clear: heavy snow in the past few days had piled thickly on the roof of the imperial ancestral temple. When the sun came out, the melting snow seeped through the glazed tiles and dripped onto the newly installed red-lacquered beam below which happened to rest right above the gilded dragon head. The elderly Shou Wang, startled and then overwhelmed by the craftsmen’s wild guesses, had lost his composure and failed to spot the problem right away.
As for why the special palace-grade glazed tiles cracked after just one snowfall, or why the red lacquer on the nanmu beam faded after a little water exposure, that was another matter entirely.
The shadow in the young emperor’s eyes lifted. Before Li Weiwei had even finished his report, Meng Guqing knew it was time to quietly take her leave. He was too occupied to notice her anyway. She returned to Fengyi Palace with her maids. Soon after, Caiwei brought word: His Majesty had ordered the Ministry of Justice to thoroughly investigate corruption and shoddy work in the temple’s construction.
She remembered that the temple’s project was overseen by Shou Wang and a few Donghu nobles. The imperial ancestral shrine was too important to entrust to former Yan officials, yet ironically, it was their own people who had made a mess. Another storm was sure to rise between the emperor and the Empress Dowager.
Meng Guqing examined the Dongzhu gifted by the young emperor: smooth, lustrous, and weighty. She turned it over in her hand, unsure what to do with it. Caiwei suggested drilling two holes to make earrings. Fusang worried the pearls were too heavy and might tear her ears, and drilling would ruin them. “Better to make a pair of phoenix hairpins,” she said. “The pearls can be the phoenix eyes, imagine how grand they’ll look!”
Meng Guqing imagined it and couldn’t help thinking: such big “eyes” would make rather strange hairpins. Besides, if they were heavy on the ears, wouldn’t they still be heavy on the head? The pins themselves were real gold and silver, solid and substantial.
After half an hour of back-and-forth discussion, they gave up and decided to just store it for now. They had barely finished talking when Feng Tianbao arrived again, with another gift, even more ridiculous this time: a luminous pearl larger than the Dongzhu. The two maids gaped, mouths wide open. Feng Tianbao said the emperor planned to dine with her that evening. Under the maids’ teasing looks, Meng Guqing belatedly realized how this might appear and felt her cheeks heat.
She suspected the emperor wanted to consult her about how to handle those few greedy nobles who’d cut corners. The Empress Dowager always favored and relied on her old kin and would likely intervene but if such a serious issue wasn’t dealt with fairly, it would set a dangerous precedent for the future.
Meng Guqing didn’t want to be caught between mother and son. Sentimentally, she leaned toward the Empress Dowager, defying her would do no good. But rationally, she felt the young emperor was right: the law must be impartial, and as ruler of all people, he should show no favoritism.
Luckily, the young emperor truly had come just for dinner. He didn’t mention politics at the table. Compared to usual, he talked more, offered her dishes, and eagerly recommended his favorites. When she said she liked them too, his eyes lit up with genuine joy. Watching him so relaxed, Meng Guqing wasn’t sure whether this change was good or bad.
Only when they both lay in bed, each under their own quilt, did the emperor casually remark, “Royal Mother is very disappointed this time. As long as no one comes to the palace to plead, I’ll know what to do.”
The candlelight behind the gauze canopy was dim, shadows swaying softly on the walls. Through the thin veil, they could barely make out each other’s outlines. Meng Guqing was half asleep; hearing him still thinking about the day’s matters, she made an effort to respond with a quiet “mm.”
Zhao Donglin, however, couldn’t sleep. He seemed to have many things he wanted to tell her, but didn’t know how to begin. Searching for words, he said, “After this cleanup, the officials below should be too afraid to disobey but we still need a way to prevent it altogether.”
Meng Guqing really just wanted to sleep. Thinking he was asking for her opinion, she murmured without much thought, “Have every batch of tiles and bricks stamped with the date, location, and names of the craftsmen who made them. Then if something happens, they can be traced directly. That should help prevent it.”
For the craftsmen who supplied the imperial household, to have their names recorded on their work would be a rare honor, better than extra reward money, and more effective too. Zhao Donglin’s eyes brightened. Excited, he suddenly slipped out of his own quilt and into hers, wrapping his long arms around her. Holding her tightly, he whispered after a long pause, “Empress…”
The tender, almost seeking tone startled Meng Guqing fully awake. She didn’t understand why he’d suddenly climbed into her bed and seemed to be pressing even closer. The small space filled with the heat and scent of a young man’s body. When she felt his breathing deepen, she froze, not daring to move.
Sensing her resistance, Zhao Donglin sobered a little. He wouldn’t dare act rashly. Though he hadn’t known her long, he remembered the time he’d lost his temper and she’d left him to his own devices. Deep down, he had to admit, he didn’t want to upset her. He liked her gentle eyes when she smiled.
Both were wary, caught in uneasy stillness. After a while, he asked softly by her ear, “Empress, are you still angry? I didn’t blame you that time. I know you weren’t taking sides… You’re very good.”
So he still remembered what had happened in Noble Consort Xu’s palace. But even if she wasn’t angry anymore, Meng Guqing had no wish to let things go further. She could feel the warmth of his body invading her small space. Choosing her words carefully, she said, “It’s a bit crowded, Your Majesty. You should go back to your side.”
That was clearly not the answer he wanted. His arms tightened. Seeing her still trying to move away, he quickly soothed, “I just want to hold you while I sleep. I won’t do anything.”
