Chapter Fifty-One
By midsummer, the emperor suddenly issued an edict, changing the He Surveillance to the Fengchen Mansion. He ordered musical banquets be held in the palace every day and frequently summoned the Wu and Li families and Zhang Changzong and Zhang Yizhi to drink and make merry, completely disregarding the proper rites between ruler and subjects.
Li Longji came home drunk every day and would make an even louder scene in the mansion, as if worried the world wouldn’t know of his indulgence in wine and women. He was self-aware enough never to send for me to accompany him; instead, it was only when he was thoroughly drunk that he would come flop down and sleep in my room. One day I straightened him out and he still tried to keep himself upright, bleary-eyed, the wine thick on his breath as he looked at me.
I asked him inexplicably, “What’s the matter?” He suddenly grabbed my wrist and pulled me to sit: “I remember you haven’t been to the palace in the past half year.” I hummed but remained puzzled: “What about it?” He propped his head up with his hand, lay on his side and smiled for a long while before saying, “Zhang Changzong told the Empress Dowager today that the day after tomorrow he wants to see the former Prince of Yong’an, who was once extremely favored in the palace.”
I was taken aback for a moment. “Why would he bring me up?” He gave a half-smile. “That’s why I’m asking you—how did you get mixed up with someone like that?” I noticed the odd tone and his clearly displeased expression and couldn’t help but sigh. “Are you asking me, or judging me? Even if I were brave enough, I wouldn’t dare go against the Imperial Grandmother.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid someone might try to take you away.”
I was dumbfounded: “You really think I’m flawless and breathtaking? In the palace, who isn’t a beauty?” He was unexpectedly silent for a moment, then traced the back of my hand with his forefinger and said softly, “To me, you still look like you did back then when your cheeks were stained by wine—already surpassing thousands of beauties.”
I smiled and said nothing. As I was about to tell him to go to bed early, he suddenly added, “Besides, someone who could capture the heart of the once-famous Prince of Yongping for ten years is not comparable to those in the palace.” I froze in twilight surprise; he didn’t look at me again, closed his eyes, and after a long while remained silent.
I sat dazed at the bedside, unsure whether he had fallen asleep or simply didn’t want to speak anymore, and finally said, “Times have changed; there is no longer any Prince of Yongping in the world.”
After speaking, I rose to blow out the candles and covered him with the embroidered quilt.
Zhang Changzong’s words now were practically half an imperial edict.
Ever since I moved out of the palace with Li Longji, I hadn’t returned. That morning it began to rain, and the downpour only grew heavier. If it had been any other day, I would have stayed inside and refused to go out, but since this day was set, even if it rained hail I would go—there was no other way.
When we arrived at the Fengchen residence, the Grandmother Empress hadn’t yet come. Instead, the Zhang brothers were being fawned over by everyone like twin stars, clearly pleased with themselves. No sooner had I taken my seat than a figure in bluish green flashed over: “Yongan.”
It was Wan’er.
I smiled at her a moment ago, and she clasped my wrist, saying to Li Longji, “I’ve taken the person I came for—no harm done, right? Prince of Linzi?” Li Longji, caught between laughter and vexation, repeatedly cupped his hands: “If Miss Wan’er wishes to take someone, how could I dare to stop her.” Wan’er snorted softly, whispering, “Actually, the prince’s courage seems larger than the heavens.” Li Longji didn’t mind much and replied in a low voice, “Miss Wan’er’s courage also appears rather startling—daring to make a move on the emperor’s favorite?”
I couldn’t make sense of Wan’er’s first half of the remark, but Li Longji’s words were unmistakable… A coldness crept over me. I glanced at Wan’er without showing it; she went quiet for a beat, tightened her grip on my wrist, and said, “We take our leave, Prince.” Before the words finished, she was already pulling me hurriedly toward the exit.
Thunder and rain finally halted her steps; she stopped and watched the curtain of rain falling from the eaves.
I also remained silent. This was a serious matter; however much I cared, I dared not speak rashly.
After a moment of silence, I finally spoke: “The one who wanted to see me was Sister, right?” She did not contradict me. She merely led me into the side hall; only after I sat down did she say, “Yes and no.” I was puzzled, and she continued, “Have you forgotten that day in Luoyang when you diffused a conflict?”
Only then did it come back to me. I hadn’t remembered earlier because I had actually intervened for Yao Yuanchong, not for that arrogant magistrate of Luoyang. I hadn’t expected those words, heard by someone with intent, to be construed as serving another purpose. Perhaps that was for the best—Zhang Changzong belongs to Lady Taiping’s circle, Wan’er’s motives, and the inscrutable Princess Taiping’s understanding of the matter now can only be beneficial, not harmful.
Laughter and toasts echoed through the main hall, but it was unusually quiet here.
“Yongan,” Wan’er studied me closely, “you’re only twenty, still in the best of your years—so why do your eyes look like mine did when I’d given up on everything?” I smiled and brushed it off, “I didn’t sleep well last night.” She understood I didn’t want to say more and sighed, “In the past, whatever you had you always told me first. Now that we meet, you don’t seem to know what to say.”
Her words made me feel a little guilty, so I hurriedly changed the subject and told her a string of trivial, amusing stories. Even though she was favored, she was still trapped in this Taichu Palace and hardly got to leave the palace. When I reached the funny parts she laughed heartily, and slowly the earlier awkwardness dissolved.
Just as we were getting into the swing of things, someone outside announced that His Majesty had arrived.
Wan’er and I hurried to our feet and returned; as we entered the hall everyone was bowing. Just as I was about to bend in salute, the Grandmother spoke: “Yongan, come. There are no formal courtly rites in Fengchen Manor; you may all take your seats.” I looked up—she was reclining on her side, the two brothers had already taken their places to her left and right, and they too were smiling at me.
Everyone thanked Her Majesty and took their seats. On the left sat the courtier Ming Jun, and on the right were the Li and Wu family members.
The room was perfumed and filled with the strains of silk-and-bamboo instruments — truly delightful.
I put on a faint smile and walked over; she took my hand and pulled me to sit beside her. “Why have you stopped coming to the palace to pay your respects? Are you still holding a grudge against the Empress Dowager for stripping you of your title back then?” I hurriedly shook my head and said, “If the Empress Dowager does not summon me, how could Yong’an presume to enter?” The Empress Dowager smiled at me, then looked at Li Longji. “Although Yong’an lost her title, she is still my most favored niece. Longji, you must not treat her coldly.”
Li Longji rose to reply, “Your grandson would not dare.” The Empress Dowager gave a faint hmph and said, “Now you have an heir and consorts at your side; it’s time to let Yong’an give me a great-grandson.”
Li Longji didn’t reply; he just bowed his head and smiled, as if his ears had really warmed. Perhaps it was always like that at the Fengchen Residence—those around him, ignoring the imperial presence, all broke into soft laughter and chimed in, their gazes full of envy toward him. Watching like this, I could only feel resigned: others see marrying me as a blessing, fortunate to receive the emperor’s special favor and admonitions, but when it falls to me, it becomes a series of invisible pressures.
In truth, once I had decided to stay and make a life here, I had given the matter some thought.
But now the situation between the Li and Wu families is uncertain; those brothers of theirs are about to contend for the throne — how could I dare to leave any bloodline behind? Must a child be born into a life as precarious as theirs, walking on thin ice from infancy? Besides, a child bearing both Wu and Li blood would surely find life even harder.
Just as everyone laughed, Uncle Wu Sansi suddenly raised his cup and said with a grin, “Your Majesty, you’re being partial. The Prince of Linzi is only seventeen and already has an eldest son, whereas the Prince of Shouchun still has no heir — you should be urging him more.” I was startled and looked up.
Uncle raised his cup, and after speaking he smiled at Li Chengqi beside him; the smile seemed warm, but concealed a needle within silk.
Li Chengqi only smiled slightly and did not reply.
The atmosphere shifted subtly; even Li Longji sat down and glanced at Li Chengqi.
The Grand Empress Dowager only smiled without speaking. Fearing prying eyes and ears might notice, I quickly lowered my gaze and took the tea from the palace maid behind me, handing it to her. My hands were steady, my smile warm, careful lest there be the slightest mistake.
Suddenly the usually taciturn father-king spoke up: “Prince Liang, this is your fault. When a household has no heir, one should take many concubines; there’s no such thing as rushing a man.” His words carried a deliberate, oblique hint, very tactfully exposing the vulgar etiquette.
Wu Sansi laughed heartily and hurriedly said, “Exactly, exactly. After drinking so much, one is bound to say foolish things—please, Prince, don’t take offense.” Li Chengqi didn’t seem to mind much; he shook his head and smiled. Only then did the Grand Empress Dowager chuckle twice: “Another day I’ll pick some clever ones from the palace and grant them to the Shouchun Prince’s residence as a gift—consider it a reward for his merits in battle.”
Li Chengqi finally rose: “Thank you, Grand Empress Dowager.”
I gave a private wry smile. With all this back and forth, if it ever leaked out later people would likely say the Shouchun Prince was stricken with some private ailment and unable to produce heirs. Thinking that, I couldn’t help but cast him a quick glance. He had just taken his seat and happened to meet my eyes; as if understanding my thoughts, he shook his head with a rueful smile.
As the wine loosened everyone’s tongues, just as Li Longji had mocked in the past, the Grand Empress Dowager ordered two Zhangs to take turns putting on feathered garments and, mounted on wooden cranes, play the sheng in the hall—claiming it was to imitate Prince Jin’s noble bearing. It was utterly ridiculous and laughable.
My head ached, so I used it as an excuse to leave the main hall, folding my arms and standing at the doorway, staring blankly ahead.
After a while, the Imperial Grandmother came out. I hurried to bow, but when I noticed the fierce anger in her eyes, my heart sank—I knew something was about to happen. “Yong’an,” she said, as if she had no attendants with her, looking only at me, pausing for a moment before adding, “Come with me.”
I didn’t dare hesitate; anxious and unsettled, I followed her to the side hall. From inside I could faintly hear a man and a woman whispering, which startled me—so lively today, and yet there were palace staff daring to indulge in forbidden trysts here? I stole a glance at the Imperial Grandmother; she seemed already aware. She reached for a golden dagger from a wooden rack at her side and quick-stepped around the screen.
I hurried after her, but when I saw the scene before me, my mind went blank with a thunderous shock.
It was Wan’er and Zhang Changzong.
Wan’er looked as if she had been terribly frightened; she clutched her clothes around her, shielding her body. Zhang Changzong had already knelt with a thud, his shoulders trembling uncontrollably from fear; both of them were so frightened they dared not make a sound.
“Shangguan Wan’er, do you know what crime you have committed?” The Imperial Grandmother’s face had gone pale as she raised her blade.
The dazzling flash of the knife was chilling and menacing. I didn’t dare stand; with a thud I knelt down beside the Imperial Grandmother. My mind was already in chaos, but I had a strong intuition that something about this was deeply suspicious. Even if Wan’er and Zhang Changzong truly had been carrying on together, even if someone had deliberately set them up and let the rumor leak, none of this should have happened today!
With Wan’er’s temperament, how could she do such a thing at a lively banquet, in a place where she could be spotted at any moment?
Thinking of this, I abruptly looked up; Wan’er still looked terrified… but there was something different about it.