Chapter 22

Early the next morning, Lady Zhao’s eyes were slightly bruised, and she had to use a heavy layer of powder to cover them.

Although she had believed Huan’er’s words—guessing that perhaps the Emperor felt the previous night had been too rushed to visit her palace—she was still deeply distressed and had tossed and turned on her bed for a long time before finally falling asleep.

Today was her first time paying respects to the Empress in her capacity as a concubine, and she did not know what to expect.

When she had served before the Emperor, her focus had been entirely on attending to him. Aside from visiting the Empress Dowager, she rarely socialized. Most of the other concubines had set their sights on Sang Qingyun, and though some had tried to approach her, she had rejected them outright. As for the palace maids and eunuchs, their status was different, and there was nothing for them to discuss.

Now, she would have to live among the other concubines day and night, and she wondered if they would be harmonious. But regardless, being able to enter the palace was a good thing, and she was still quite happy at heart.

Lady Zhao carefully selected a palace gown from her wardrobe that was neither improper nor lacking in dignity. After grooming herself meticulously, she arrived at the Fengyi Palace early.

When she reached the palace, two or three low-ranking concubines who had entered the palace this year were already there. Seeing her, they lowered their heads and offered respectful greetings.

Back when these new, low-ranking concubines had first entered the palace, she had been required to immediately step aside and bow whenever she encountered them on the path. Every time, she couldn’t help but think: "Why? They are clearly of humble birth, far inferior to me. Just because I served as a female official, I was considered of lower status."

Now, watching them pay their respects to her, Lady Zhao felt an immense sense of satisfaction; the resentment she had suppressed in her heart for so long finally dissipated a little. She smiled with an air of superiority, gestured for them to rise, and turned to take her seat.

Little did she know, this scene was witnessed by Lady Ke, who walked in and scoffed, "Who are you putting on airs for?"

Lady Ke had been selected by Empress Dowager Zhao to serve the Emperor in his residence, and since Lady Zhao was the Empress Dowager’s niece, they were, in a sense, on the same side. However, last year, when Lady Ke had tried to win Lady Zhao over to speak well of her in front of the Emperor, Lady Zhao had not only refused her righteously but had also spoken quite harshly.

Since then, Lady Ke had loathed Lady Zhao, though she had not dared to provoke her while she was still serving before the Emperor. Now that both were concubines, Lady Zhao was merely a "Lady" (Guiren), while Lady Ke held a formal title. No matter what, Lady Zhao still had to be respectful toward her.

Unable to stand Lady Zhao’s arrogant demeanor, Lady Ke muttered after sitting down, "One would think you were already a proper mistress. The Emperor didn’t see you yesterday, did he? If he were truly pining for you, he would have summoned you for the night long ago!"

Lady Zhao’s most sensitive insecurity was laid bare so brazenly that her face flushed with shame. She gritted her teeth and looked over: "The Emperor is busy with myriad state affairs. Yesterday was the Dragon Boat Festival; naturally, he had to prioritize his health. Furthermore, the Yufu Palace has not yet been fully prepared. Is the Emperor the type of person to be so inconsiderate?"

"Lady Ke, you have been in the palace for so long; surely you know that speculating on the Emperor’s intentions is a grave taboo. How dare you discuss his private thoughts here in the Empress’s palace?"

Lady Ke rolled her eyes, feeling slightly guilty: "Who is listening to you? You spent a year before the Emperor and now you use him to suppress me in every sentence."

"Sang Qingyun served before the Emperor as well, yet she is far better than you. Even the Emperor values her more."

Seeing that Lady Ke and Lady Zhao had started an argument, the low-ranking concubines who had been sitting quietly exchanged glances, their expressions shifting.

Although Lady Ke’s words were crude, they held some truth. If Lady Zhao were truly so favored, why didn’t the Emperor summon her last night? The festival banquet was indeed tiring, but it had ended in the afternoon; there was no reason he couldn’t have summoned her at night. Ultimately, it was likely because Lady Zhao was recommended by Empress Dowager Zhao, and the Emperor was merely respecting the Empress Dowager’s face, not actually fond of Lady Zhao at all.

Feeling the gazes of those around her, Lady Zhao realized she was still being compared to Sang Qingyun, and she felt both ashamed and enraged, making her even more restless. "I have served before the Emperor for so long; how could it be a lie?"

Lady Ke couldn’t be bothered to respond, but the Noble Consort, who was walking behind them, replied coldly: "You served the Emperor for a year, but how many years have I and Lady Ke served him?"

"It was just a joke, yet Lady Zhao brings up the taboo of speculating on the Emperor’s will. I truly did not know the Emperor had so much spare time that he would fuss over the private gossip of women."

Since falling ill in the fourth month, the Noble Consort had not paid respects to the Empress for many days; no one had expected her to come today. She walked straight past Lady Zhao and sat in the seat of honor immediately below the Empress: "However, Lady Ke, you are indeed a bit impatient. Lady Zhao has her own ways; how do you know what the future holds?"

Having said this, the Noble Consort smiled, picked up the teacup from the side table, took a sip, and said no more.

Lady Ke immediately understood and laughed sarcastically: "Her Highness is right; I do not have Lady Zhao’s good fortune."

The implication was clearly mocking her for relying on the Empress Dowager’s influence to become a concubine. Lady Zhao was suddenly agitated: "I have not offended you, Your Highness; why must you speak such hurtful words?"

"Besides, the Emperor didn’t go to my palace, but he didn’t go anywhere else either, did he?"

The Noble Consort’s expression shifted immediately: "The Emperor’s whereabouts are not for you to comment on."

She turned her head away, refusing to look at Lady Zhao’s eyesore of a face, and drank a cup of sweet milk tea in frustration.

She had disliked this Zhao Yuyan from the moment she first saw her. Her blatant self-importance, narrow-mindedness, and the way she glued her eyes to the Emperor, hoping for a single glance, made her intentions toward the Emperor painfully obvious.

She had seen her crying in the Empress Dowager’s palace that day; though she felt something was off then, she hadn't had the time to care. Now it seemed she truly wasn't a well-behaved person.

Fortunately, the Emperor did not like Lady Zhao. Beyond her personal dislike, she didn’t consider Lady Zhao a threat—though she was surprised that Lady Zhao would openly claim the Emperor hadn’t visited anyone else.

***

The Noble Consort stewed in her irritation but chose not to argue further, simply ignoring her. She wanted to see when the Emperor would remember Lady Zhao and how much special favor he would actually show her.

After the dispute, the joy Lady Zhao had felt upon entering the hall was extinguished. Sitting in her seat, she felt as if she were on pins and needles, her face pale and flushed by turns.

Lady Xu, sitting to her left, curled her lips coldly, looking at her with a hint of disdain.

The concubines sat for a while longer, and when the time came, the Empress emerged from the inner chamber, her voice dignified: "I could hear you arguing from inside. What is there to discuss?"

"Since Lady Zhao has entered the palace, she is the Emperor’s concubine. You should live in harmony and observe the order of status."

She scanned the people below from her throne: "Especially you, Noble Consort. She has only been in the palace for half a day; you should show some tolerance."

The Noble Consort gripped her handkerchief tightly, her jaw clenched, yet she forced a calm smile: "I was just praising Lady Zhao for her good fortune. What, is that a mistake in Her Majesty’s eyes? Besides, as a Noble Consort, it is my duty to instruct the concubines."

"Is it that the Empress is too busy managing the inner palace to remember, or have I been away for so long that you’ve forgotten my existence?"

The Empress looked at the Noble Consort and smiled slowly: "The Noble Consort is deeply favored by the Emperor and is my right-hand woman; naturally, I would not forget you."

"Since you have recovered, I will have someone put your name tag back up. Furthermore, you hold the responsibility of assisting in managing the six palaces; with your help, I can finally have some respite."

The Noble Consort turned her head away, unwilling to listen to any more of the Empress’s superficial politeness, and ate a piece of cloud-fragrance pastry to soothe her temper.

She would certainly not relinquish the power to assist in managing the six palaces; otherwise, wouldn’t the entire harem be the Empress’s domain? The Empress spoke so magnanimously, but the Noble Consort knew it was all an act!

The Empress ignored the Noble Consort and said gently to Lady Zhao: "The Emperor is diligent in state affairs and does not often visit the inner palace. You are new here, so do not be impatient. Just rest well; I believe the Emperor will summon you soon."

"I have a fine gold hairpin here, with a auspicious design of a magpie holding a branch; I shall bestow it upon you today."

Lady Zhao stepped forward, nearly moved to tears: "I thank the Empress for her grace!"

***

For the next few days, the Emperor still did not summon Lady Zhao, but he also did not step foot into the inner palace even once.

Consequently, many in the harem whispered among themselves. Speculation spread quickly that Lady Zhao had only entered the palace on the strength of the Empress Dowager’s influence and was not actually favored by the Emperor.

Lady Zhao overheard the gossip from the courtyard and wept in shame and anger.

She could not understand why, as a concubine, even the newcomers this year had opportunities to be favored, yet she had none. Could it be that the Emperor truly loathed her?

But she had been circumspect and followed all the rules for a year before the Emperor; she had never caused him any annoyance. Why was he turning a blind eye to her?

Huan’er whispered comfortingly: "Mistress, do not overthink it. It is common for the Emperor not to enter the harem. Why bother listening to those people’s sour words? It is not because of you that the Emperor does not come; it is merely because your initial rank was too high, which invited jealousy."

"Besides, if you really cannot wait, you can always ask the Empress Dowager for help. You are blood relatives; she will certainly assist you."

Lady Zhao’s eyes lit up: "That’s right, there is still my aunt. She will certainly not leave me to fend for myself."

Once she pleaded with her aunt, why would she worry about the Emperor not coming? On that day, she would make everyone know that the Emperor did not despise her, and she was certainly not inferior to Sang Qingyun.

***

After craning her neck in anticipation for several more days, Lady Zhao finally received word from the Empress Dowager that everything had been arranged and the Emperor would come to her palace that evening.

Lady Zhao was overjoyed. She rushed to have the Imperial Kitchen arrange a meal, preparing not only the dishes the Emperor usually liked but also a pot of fine wine, as her aunt had instructed.

With everything ready, she only lacked the "east wind."

As she sat in her room, ecstatic, she suddenly remembered something and ordered Huan’er: "I recall I still have some personal items before the Emperor. Go send someone to tell Sang Qingyun to bring them to me this evening; I will reward her well."

Huan’er went to make the arrangements, but before long, another person arrived at the door: Qianning, the Noble Consort’s maid.

She walked in, curtsied, and put on a warm smile: "Greetings to Lady Zhao."

"The Noble Consort said that she was a bit harsh with you in the Fengyi Palace the other day. After thinking it over, she felt it was quite inappropriate, so she sent me today to invite you. The Noble Consort has prepared gifts at the Yaohua Palace and would like to invite you over to have a proper chat."

The Noble Consort’s invitation?

Lady Zhao’s pupils constricted. She hesitated for a long time, looking toward the window.

Qianning seemed to guess her thoughts and said with a smile: "Mistress, do not worry. The Noble Consort just wants to speak with you; it will not take much time."

"If you do not go, wouldn’t the Noble Consort feel even more guilty? It might also make people think you are disrespectful to her."

Put in these terms, Lady Zhao dared not refuse.

She stood up and calculated repeatedly. The Emperor wouldn’t arrive until evening, and it was just past noon; there was plenty of time, so it shouldn’t interfere with receiving him.

The Noble Consort was, after all, a Noble Consort, and both she and Lady Zhao were close to the Empress Dowager. If they fell out, it would do her no good. She had faced setbacks everywhere since entering the palace; if she could mend her relationship with the Noble Consort, she would have both the Empress and the Noble Consort’s support, and perhaps things would go more smoothly in the future.

Thinking of this, Lady Zhao steadied her heart and smiled: "Very well, since the Noble Consort has invited me, I have no reason not to go. I shall leave now."

***

In the Qinzheng Hall, Xie Yanhang had finished his official business early and boarded the imperial carriage.

The grand procession moved between the vermilion palace walls. The afterglow of the setting sun bathed him, yet it failed to warm his expression.

Ever since that day he had been frank with Sang Qingyun, his heart would sink whenever he saw her, and he had been unable to find joy for many days. If he didn’t see her at all, perhaps it would be fine, but she was always before the Emperor—they met every time he looked up.

Xie Yanhang had felt this kind of repetitive, inescapable dilemma for the first time in his life.

It was sour, stifling, as if an invisible hand were gripping his heart. He wanted to break free, yet he felt a reluctance to let go.

But he knew he had more important things to do. As an Emperor, he should not be obsessed with a woman he could not have.

Therefore, when the Empress Dowager had spoken, he had agreed without a second thought.

The inner palace had always been like this for him—merely a pastime during leisure, a way to ensure the continuation of the royal bloodline. He could favor a woman, but he should never be obsessed with one, and he certainly should not waste time for her sake. It had been that way before, and it should remain so.

Xie Yanhang’s eyes darkened. When he entered Lady Zhao’s main room, the wine and food were already prepared. He did not have anyone call for Lady Zhao to return; instead, he walked in, poured himself a cup of wine, and drank it slowly.

Thus, when Sang Qingyun arrived to request an audience with Lady Zhao’s items, she happened to see the Emperor drinking alone through the door curtain.

At this sight, her brow furrowed immediately, and she hesitated whether to step forward.

Everyone had weaknesses, and even the seemingly impeccable Emperor had one—a weakness only those closest to him knew. He had a low tolerance for alcohol; he became intoxicated very easily.

Because of this, he almost never drank during the day, and even when he had to, he used watered-down wine. The pot in front of him was clearly not that.

The Emperor had left early today and visited the Empress Dowager first; she hadn’t known he was coming to Lady Zhao’s.

This situation was clearly not something a female official should be involved in. But Lady Zhao had given orders, and she hesitated, wondering whether to just leave the items and go.

Just as she hesitated, Xie Yanhang caught sight of the pale green figure at the door.

He stared at her intently, his dark eyes unfathomable, his voice somewhat hoarse.

Xie Yanhang called out, "Sang Qingyun."

Sang Qingyun’s hesitant steps stopped.

Dai Zheng, standing outside the door, whispered: "Qingyun, the Emperor is calling you. Go quickly."

With that, she had no choice but to carry the items and walk forward lightly.

But the moment she entered the room, Xie Yanhang grabbed her wrist and pressed her against the wall where no one could see them. In the room without lit candles, his side profile was indistinct, but she could smell the scent of dragon-saliva incense mixed with the smell of alcohol—the scent of a broken vow.

He mumbled indistinctly against her ear, his tall frame wrapping tightly around her, as if she were a rare and fragile treasure: "I can give you a title, give you freedom, and protect you from worry."

"Would you be willing?"