Chapter Twenty-Six
On the day I returned to Taichu Palace, Yongtai came early; two years had taken away some of her awkwardness and added a bit of confidence to her features.
She circled me several times before saying, “Sister is finally back.” I smiled at her and said, “Stop circling—haven’t we seen each other a few times in the past two years?” Though I’d left Taichu Palace, she still came to pay respects on the first and fifteenth of each month, so there were plenty of chances to run into her.
Her apricot-shaped eyes flickered as she smiled, “That was at the imperial grandmother’s side—sit up straight, speak in measured tones, can’t look askance, can’t say many words. Whether you were seen or not made no difference.” I studied her closely and said, “It really is different now.”
She stayed with me here until after lunch, then began to get restless and dragged me out of the palace.
She chattered the whole way about the banquet at Qujiang, laughing nonstop, only stopping when we reached Lichun Terrace. Looking out over the entire Taichu Palace City, she said, “This place is the best. You can see the whole Taichu Palace and watch the Luo River cut across the divine capital.” As she spoke, her eyes shone with longing as she gazed into the distance. “Sister is lucky, being able to come and go inside and outside the palace. I can only stand here to see the real divine capital.”
I said casually, “After you marry and leave the palace, if you want to come back you’ll have to wait for the first and fifteenth of every month, and then you’ll complain the outside is boring.”
I stood beside her, watching the crowd in the market outside the palace squirming like ants. Pale clouds drifted in the distant sky; nearby, halls faced one another and pavilions rose in clusters. For a moment my mood was unexpectedly light.
She fell silent for a moment, then said, “I wonder when Father and Mother will see the divine capital again.” I paused, then murmured, “They’ll come back someday.” She had been taken into the palace when she was born and had never seen her biological parents. I had thought she didn’t know sorrow, but now I realized even this little princess had grown up.
I glanced back, signaled Yixi and the palace maids and attendants to withdraw, then continued: “Don’t speak of this further, especially in front of your imperial grandaunt.” She leaned on the railing, turned her head to look at me and smiled, “Chengqi gege warned me about this too,” she said, then after a moment added, “It would be better if Fourth Uncle ascended the throne.” I was startled to hear that and asked, “Why would you say that?”
She let the wind play across her face and murmured, “Fourth Uncle is gentle by nature. Only if he becomes emperor would the Li family have any chance to survive, right?” Her words were more like a question. I turned my head to look toward Yaoguang Hall and did not answer.
Because of the distance I couldn’t make out details, but I could clearly see a large cluster of people, dark and dense, and yet oddly quiet. I was peering intently when Yongtai suddenly said, “Something’s happened at Yaoguang Hall?” She grabbed my sleeve and lowered her voice: “Ever since the Ming Tang burned down half a month ago, everyone in the palace has been on edge, afraid of bringing down disaster. Today is probably about that matter.”
I fixed my gaze on Yaoguang Hall, my heartbeat growing even more uneasy. Since that night’s great fire, the imperial grandaunt had not punished anyone; she even ordered Xue Huaiyi to rebuild the Ming Tang, publicly protecting him, though in truth she feared being laughed at by the world. But one of her kept favorites set a fire that threatened the authority of the Son of Heaven — that would never be so easily let go. What happened, and who it would implicate, that was the real cause of everyone’s panic.
Yongtai seemed eager to find out, but after looking for a moment he suddenly grabbed my arm and said, “Let’s go see.” I hesitated, uneasy, and took him down from Lichun Terrace, dismissed the palace maids and eunuchs, and with him headed toward Yaoguang Hall.
With still dozens of zhang to go before Yaoguang Hall, we saw guards stationed around the perimeter, all wearing grim expressions; the imperial carriage before the hall stood empty. On the steps before the hall the palace maids and eunuchs from the Grand Dowager’s quarters waited, some with faces ashen, others trembling all over. A few younger maids had retreated from the doorway and leaned weakly against the jade steps, bowing their heads and sobbing.
My heart raced with fear; Yongtai had already stepped back two paces, whispering, “The Grand Dowager is inside.”
The guards didn’t know us and, judging by our dress, assumed we were of higher rank. A young one stepped forward to salute and said, “You two should leave. The Emperor has ordered that no one may approach Yaoguang Hall.”
I forced myself to hold back, smiling as I nodded and said, “Get up. We’re just passing through, we don’t mean to trouble you.” After speaking, I tightened my grip on Yongtai’s hand and strode off in the opposite direction, but felt her body heavy, as if she was extremely reluctant. I turned my head and said sternly, “Quick, come with me.” Yongtai clung to me the other way and protested, “Sister, sister.”
I ignored her calling me until we reached the distant stone pillar, then stopped.
She bit her lip and stared at me. “Sister, I’m afraid to go inside…” I shook my head slightly, cutting her off. She understood my meaning and could only stand dumbly at my side, eyes fixed on Yaoguang Hall in the distance, fear growing in them.
Am I not afraid as well? It’s just that this kind of mobilization is unprecedented in the palace—there must be something major happening in the hall. If Yongtai insisted on investigating, it could bring layered trouble. My gaze swept over the guards and palace maids in front of the hall; besides those from the emperor’s inner court, there were some unfamiliar faces—I didn’t know which palace they belonged to… Suddenly, a familiar figure flashed out: He Fu, Li Chengqi’s attendant.
He hurried down the steps and spoke a few words to a guard, who immediately made way for him. After bowing to give thanks, he actually walked straight toward us. When he drew near he saluted and said, “Princess Yongtai, Princess Yong’an.” I nodded and asked, “Stand up. What’s happening at Yaoguang Hall?” He must have seen us by the hall’s entrance to know we were here and come specifically to deliver the message.
He rose and said respectfully, “Today Head Priest Xue entered the palace to pay respects to the Emperor, but afterwards privately visited Yaoguang Hall to meet with a palace maid. He debauched the harem; when the Emperor learned of it he flew into a rage and ordered Prince Liang to have him caned on the spot as an example to others.” I stared at him and said, “Head Priest Xue is a monk—how could he do such a thing? Who discovered it?” The imperial aunt’s favorite—who in this palace would dare meet with her in secret?
He Fú’s face showed no change as he said, “It was the palace maid Yidu from the Emperor’s hall.” I nodded and asked, “If it was someone from the Emperor’s hall who discovered it, and Prince Liang carried out the punishment, then why were people from the Eastern Palace here?” He hesitated a moment before replying, “It wasn’t only those from the Eastern Palace; Imperial Physician Shen was here as well. At the time of the incident the physician was in Changsheng Hall taking the Emperor’s pulse, and the prince was by his side, so they accompanied the Emperor here together.”
I fell silent for a moment and then asked a few more questions. The imperial aunt had already left Yaoguang Hall, followed closely by my uncle Wu Sansi, Shen Nanliao, and Li Chengqi. Once she boarded the dragon carriage, Shen Nanliao departed immediately, while Wu Sansi and Li Chengqi remained in front of the hall, whispering to one another with faces as composed as ever.
“I’ll take my leave.” He Fu hurriedly bowed, then turned and hurried back.
By then nearly a hundred eunuchs had already come out into the hall. The ones in front were each carrying two people, their bodies simply draped with white brocade. Wu Sansi called them to a halt, reached out and lifted the cloths one by one to look closely, whispered a few words to Li Chengqi—who only gave a cool glance and said nothing.
From a distance I could see the monk’s robes beneath the cloths, soaked a vivid crimson that stung the eyes. A wave of nausea struck me and I had to steady myself before telling Yongtai, “Let’s go.” Yongtai was already pale as paper; he nodded and followed me briskly out.
The matter spun in my head for days, refusing to be shaken off.
At court it was as if nothing had happened; no one dared mention it. I meant to ask Wan’er about it, but since returning to the Taichu Palace she had been at our great-grandmother the Empress Dowager’s side every day, and I never had a moment alone with her. I could only see her during the daily greetings; she always seemed to have something to say, yet constrained by our great-grandmother. When she glanced at me it was with an inscrutable, complicated expression.
That morning after the customary greetings, I stepped out of the Hall of Everlasting Life and only then noticed that the palace maid on duty was that little attendant.
By the side of the hall gate she stood with her eyes down, tidying my robes. Seeing no one else nearby, I asked softly, “Has Wei Tuan’er not been on duty these past few days?” There were several new faces in the Hall of Everlasting Life, and her absence amid her favored status could not help but arouse suspicion.
Yuan Yue’s hand went cold; she glanced around before lowering her voice and saying, “Wei Tuan’er has been beaten to death.”
I blanked for a moment, then understood instantly. It turned out to be Wei Tuan’er.
Xue Huaiyi had long harbored resentment, and this time he even set fire to the Ming Hall. Wei Tuan’er was Wu Chengsi’s confidante and had repeatedly framed the Crown Prince. Whether this obscene affair was true or not, it worked to the advantage of everyone who had been present that day. Wu Sansi wanted to remove Wu Chengsi’s inner circle, Li Chengqi wanted to eliminate a long-standing threat, and although the Imperial Grandmother was furious, wasn’t she also fulfilling the desire to get rid of Xue Huaiyi?
Had Wu Sansi and he come to an understanding since the great fire on the Lantern Festival — or perhaps they’d had a tacit agreement even earlier? That his uncle Wu Sansi could remain favored even after his cousin’s downfall could not have been plotted in a single day, and how long had he been able to play cat and mouse? My mind swirled in confusion; it took a long while before I could gather my thoughts.
At that moment, Yuan Yue bowed toward the stone steps and said, “Prince.”
I looked up and saw Li Chengqi and several other princes already there. Li Longji was appraising me and said, “You’re not very old, yet you carry a lot on your mind.” As he spoke, he let the eunuch behind him remove his outer robe. I could only glance at him helplessly, bowed and said, “Your Highnesses, please come in quickly.”
As I brushed past him, Li Longji suddenly tugged me back and asked, “Why do you keep avoiding me?” He went on, “Ever since I saw you again, you’ve been like a different person.” I steadied myself and smiled at him. “You’re not very old either, but your suspicions run deep. I’m afraid you’d be delayed from paying respects at the appointed hour and be blamed by the Empress Dowager,” I replied. He frowned and stared at me a while longer before letting go.
After the princes entered the hall, I glanced back once more; his figure had already slipped into the Longevity Hall.