Although Duke Jin’an had already explained that Cheng Jiao-niang’s qin playing was not – and could not be – meant to cure Prince Qing’s illness, the Empress Dowager’s curiosity still got the better of her, and she ordered Cheng Jiao-niang to be summoned to the palace.
“Do you want to play?”
As they stepped through the palace gates, Duke Jin’an turned back and asked her quietly.
Since she had been summoned, it was almost certain they would want her to play.
“It’s not a matter of wanting to or not,” Cheng Jiao-niang said. “Without reason or meaning, how could I play?”
Duke Jin’an smiled.
“All right, I understand,” he said. “Then we won’t play.”
The eunuch leading the way cleared his throat softly, as if to warn them against speaking privately.
Duke Jin’an gave Cheng Jiao-niang a quick wink.
Don’t be afraid, he mouthed, then turned forward again, walking with formal composure.
When the eunuch’s loud announcement rang out, all the consorts in the hall turned their heads at once, the Imperial Consort among them especially attentive.
The last time she had seen the girl was only from a distance at the palace gates; she hadn’t paid much attention and hadn’t seen clearly. Later, when she came to the Empress Dowager’s residence intending to meet her properly, the girl had already been taken away by Duke Jin’an.
Now the doors opened, and Duke Jin’an strode in with a pleasant smile. As he moved forward, the figure of a girl could be seen walking slowly behind him.
Although no one yet saw her face clearly, just the sight of that upright shoulder line, the perfectly still fall of her robe as she walked, the neatly bound hair without a single jeweled pin or dangling ornament – those alone were enough to match, in poise and bearing, any princess or noble lady raised within the inner palace.
Such grace and composure could never belong to the daughter of a mere official’s household – let alone to one who had supposedly been kept hidden and witless for over ten years.
No wonder people believed her to be a disciple of the immortals.
“Greetings, Empress Dowager,” Duke Jin’an said, bowing deeply.
As he bent down, the others instinctively looked past him – and saw that the girl a few steps behind had also lifted her sleeves and knelt gracefully to pay her respects.
“Come here,” the Empress Dowager said with a warm smile, beckoning to Duke Jin’an.
He rose and went to sit beside her.
“I pay my respects to the Empress Dowager,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, bowing low.
“Rise,” the Empress Dowager said kindly. Her gaze swept over the concubines on both sides, who made little effort to hide their curiosity, and she smiled faintly. “Lady Cheng, come forward.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Cheng Jiao-niang straightened her robes and advanced slowly under the eyes of everyone present – neither timid nor coy.
Nothing she did could not be shown before others; nothing in her bearing could admit fear of being seen.
In advance, she observed propriety; in retreat, she knew restraint.
Such was the conduct of the Cheng family’s descendants.
The consorts on both sides exchanged glances – some surprised, some admiring, some indifferent.
“So, Lady Cheng, you can play the qin as well,” the Empress Dowager said with a gentle smile.
“I know only one piece,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied with a bow.
Only one piece? What did that mean?
“Is it the Autumn Wind Mode that so bewitched Master Cui, the court musician?” one of the consorts asked.
Cheng Jiao-niang answered softly, “Yes.”
At the mention of Master Cui, the Empress Dowager recalled something and quickly ordered someone to summon him.
“He nearly lost himself to it, but he has more or less come back to his senses now,” the Empress Dowager said with a smile. Then she turned to Cheng Jiao-niang again. “What other pieces can you play?”
Cheng Jiao-niang shook her head.
“Only this one,” she said.
“How could it be only one?” a consort asked in puzzlement.
Before Cheng Jiao-niang could reply, Master Cui – who had already been summoned and was waiting nearby – entered with the eunuch. He stumbled slightly as he stepped through the doorway, bowed hastily to the Empress Dowager, and then, unable to contain himself, dropped into a deep obeisance before Cheng Jiao-niang. Yet he was so overcome that he couldn’t utter a single word, which made the consorts burst out laughing.
“So this is what they call being shy upon returning to one’s homeland?” the Empress Dowager said with amusement.
“This,” Duke Jin’an said with a smile, “is what you call awe born of true understanding.”
“The Duke always knows the hearts of others,” the Imperial Consort said sweetly.
“Only because I’ve read a little,” Duke Jin’an replied with a laugh. “If I had even half of Prince Ping’s wit, that would be far better.”
The Imperial Consort only smiled and said nothing.
“Since Lady Cheng is here, let us hear for ourselves what makes her music so enchanting,” the Empress Dowager said with a smile.
“Master Cui, hurry and let Lady Cheng use your qin,” one of the consorts said with a laugh.
“Your Majesty,” another consort asked, holding a young princess in her arms, “should we have the princesses step out first?”
At those words, all the consorts who had princesses beside them turned to look at the Empress Dowager – some hesitant, some uneasy, and others with a flicker of hopeful anticipation in their eyes.
After all, one who had fallen into trance listening to her music – like Master Cui – was said to have a rare gift, touched by the favor of the immortals. But there was also Prince Qing, whose strange, inhuman reaction to that same music was whispered of in fear.
For the royal princesses, their own musical skill mattered little; yet to be spoken of as “blessed with a divine gift” was a fortune indeed.
Thus, the consorts secretly wished their daughters might resemble Master Cui – but at the same time, each harbored an anxious dread that they might end up like Prince Qing, crying out in delirium, raving of heat and cold.
“What do you mean, have them leave? If they can’t even listen to a qin, what good are they?” the Empress Dowager said with displeasure.
The consorts hastily answered their obedience and dared not speak further.
Master Cui respectfully held out his qin to Cheng Jiao-niang, but she did not take it.
“Lady Cheng?” he ventured to ask, summoning his courage to lift his eyes toward her.
That single glance filled him with the same astonishment everyone else had felt.
So young!
Though he had already heard rumors these past few days – that this Lady Cheng was but in her early maiden years – seeing her in person still left him utterly stunned.
So young – how could someone so young play the Autumn Wind Mode, that sorrowful, cold, and desolate melody?
“Lady Cheng?” the Empress Dowager asked as well when she saw her standing still.
Was the girl frightened? After all, this was the imperial palace.
“I do not know how to play,” Cheng Jiao-niang said, bowing to the Empress Dowager.
Do not know how to play?
Did she mean she truly didn’t know – or that she would not play?
“What?” The Empress Dowager thought she must have misheard and asked again.
“I do not know how to play the qin,” Cheng Jiao-niang repeated clearly.
This time, everyone in the hall understood her – and a murmur of shock swept through the room.
“It’s not that I’ve never seen anyone lie before,” the Imperial Consort said with a laugh, “but to lie so brazenly, eyes wide open like that…”
“She doesn’t lie,” Duke Jin’an said with a smile. “If she says she cannot, then she truly cannot.”
The Imperial Consort turned her head toward him, smiling faintly.
“Your Highness really does seem to understand Lady Cheng,” she said. “How dull of me, that I can’t make sense of it. Or perhaps, was it someone else playing the qin at your residence that day?”
Before their exchange could go any further, the Empress Dowager’s expression darkened and she spoke.
“Lady Cheng, what do you mean by this?” she asked. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“Your Majesty asked just now what other pieces I could play,” Cheng Jiao-niang said calmly. “I replied that I know only this one.”
“Yes, but how could you know only one piece?” the same consort from before interjected, remembering her own question.
“My master taught me only that one piece,” Cheng Jiao-niang said.
Only one piece?
How strange.
Truly, she was unlike ordinary people – so strange that calling her a fool did not seem unjustified.
The Empress Dowager let out a slow breath and lifted a hand to smooth the hair at her temple.
“Then play that one,” she said.
“Your Majesty,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied with a bow, “this one cannot be played here either.”
“What now?” the Empress Dowager said, raising her brows.
“This is not a new residence, and there is no need for a purification rite,” Cheng Jiao-niang said. “How could I play it?”
Laughter burst from all corners of the hall.
“You should’ve seen it – Her Majesty’s face went green!”
The Imperial Consort slapped the table, laughing so hard she nearly doubled over, her jeweled hairpins swaying wildly.
The maids and eunuchs around her joined in with forced laughter.
“So, is she really unable – or just pretending?” one maid asked.
“Real or fake?” The Imperial Consort laughed again. “I say she’s pretending to be a fool!”
“Relying on that tale about being a disciple of the immortals, relying on her so-called service to the realm, relying on–”
She stopped laughing, her expression sharpening into a thin, cold smile.
“Relying on Duke Jin’an…”
“I’d say Master Cui isn’t the only one she’s managed to bewitch,” the Imperial Consort remarked.
Meanwhile, in the Empress Dowager’s palace, the Emperor – summoned by his furious mother – was listening as she vented her anger.
“She’s enchanted half the world, and now she dares make a fool of me as well?” the Empress Dowager fumed.
“‘This isn’t a new residence, so I can’t play’? What kind of nonsense is that! If she wanted to make excuses, she could at least invent one that sounds sincere!”
“Your Majesty–” Duke Jin’an began, but before he could continue, the Empress Dowager pointed a finger straight at him.
“Silence!” she snapped.
Duke Jin’an grinned and knelt forward a step.
“Your Majesty, she’s not making excuses,” he said. “She already told you – she only ever learned that one piece, and it’s a purification tune, meant to cleanse a dwelling, not for entertainment.”
The Empress Dowager spat in irritation.
“Oh, just like her calligraphy that’s ‘not meant for amusement,’ is it?” she said sharply. “What absurd talk! There’s no such thing as learning a tune – people learn the qin! I’ve never heard of such nonsense in my life!”
“Well,” Duke Jin’an said with a smile, “now Your Majesty has.”
The Empress Dowager raised her hand and smacked him twice on the shoulder.
“Did you come in here just to defend her?” she demanded.
“Of course,” Duke Jin’an replied without hesitation. “After all, this whole thing happened because I invited her to play at my banquet. Naturally, I should come and take responsibility.”
His tone was so unapologetically matter-of-fact that the Empress Dowager could only glare at him in speechless exasperation.
Even the Emperor couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’ll go and question her myself,” he said. “I’ll be sure to give Mother an explanation.”
The Emperor stepped into the side hall and saw the young lady seated upright within. As expected, she showed no trace of fear, frailty, or tears. Hearing his footsteps, she rose and bowed.
“You’re quite bold,” the Emperor said. “You dare to say anything.”
“Your Majesty,” Cheng Jiao-niang replied softly, her head lowered, “if something can be said, why should one not dare to say it?”
If something can be said, why should one not dare to say it?
The Emperor studied the young lady before him.
“…I think she’s a straightforward sort – what is, is. When I threatened her, she was unfazed; when I later apologized, she was just as calm…
“It’s as if she were a child untouched by the world – sometimes rather absurd, and at times, truly exasperating.”
Exasperating indeed – just look at how furious the Empress Dowager had been.
A faint smile tugged at the Emperor’s lips.
“So tell me,” he asked, “what does it mean to have learned only a tune but not the qin?”
Cheng Jiao-niang lowered her gaze.
“…Father, what should I learn?.”
“Everything.”
“But Father, even if I were clever, could I really learn everything?”
“‘You can. You need only learn one way.”
“What does “one way” mean?”
She bowed slightly and said, “It means to devote oneself wholly to a single path. When he taught me the qin, there was but one purpose – to purify a dwelling. So I learned only the Autumn Wind Mode.”
The Emperor frowned.
“What kind of reasoning is that?” he asked.
“Only this way can one truly learn well – and learn more,” Cheng Jiao-niang said. “If I were to study the qin as a whole, there would be no end to it. So I could only devote myself to one piece. Once I mastered that piece, the learning of it would be complete, and I could then turn my full focus to studying something else.”
Is that so?
The Emperor looked at her in surprise.
“So that’s why you only treat incurable illnesses?” he asked. “Because your master taught you only a single path of medicine?”
Cheng Jiao-niang nodded.
“The way of tending horses’ hooves?”
“The way of crafting weapons?”
“The way of literature and letters?”
The Emperor repeated each in turn – half questioning, half murmuring to himself. After a moment of reflection, his expression softened into wistfulness.
“One path… to master one path… to become one with the Way – so it can be done like this.” He sighed. “Your master was truly a man of rare genius.”
What a pity.
To think such a man had died quietly, without ever being known by the court. Had he been discovered and recommended earlier, the western bandits might already have been crushed under imperial banners.
And what a pity, too, that his disciple was a girl once thought witless – who learned her art, yet remained seemingly dull and untouched by enlightenment.
If he had taken on a more ‘sensible’ student, that person would surely have inherited his brilliance and wielded it freely.
A pity indeed – such a pity.
