I didn’t dream.
At the stroke of ten in the morning, startled awake by the bell, I quickly sat up. Zhen was nowhere to be found, leaving behind only the faint scent of smoke. As I got ready, I recalled that something similar had happened back in autumn.
The bloodstains of Guà Láng remained on my underskirt, so I changed into a different one.
I tied the sash of the skirt at my waist, draped on my robe, and slipped on an outer coat. Using a hairpin, I gathered my hair into a bun and, facing the mirror, slid in the poisoned ornamental hairpin as a final touch.
(“Now that I think about it, there was a time when I placed my mother’s hairpin in my hair.”)
Even I once had the innocent, girlish yearning to be drawn to beautiful things. The lapis lazuli hairpin my mother owned had made my heart leap.
(“The only time Mother ever got that angry, before or since, was then.”)
“This was a gift from Suǒ Mèng to me, and you dared to—” she said, raising her voice sharply as she snatched the hairpin from me. At the time, I was too stunned to understand why she was so upset. But now, I understand.
(“Mother loved Father so deeply.”)
And yet, she was never able to save the late emperor.
(“On her deathbed, Mother said…”)
“It was you. If only it hadn’t been for you, he wouldn’t have lost his life,” she said.
Did Mother resent me? Those final words sounded almost like retribution against the girl who had taken her beloved. In fact, those words drove Fei Ling to despair, leading her to take poison.
Even so, Mother staked her life to protect Fei Ling from the wrath of the broken late emperor.
(“I don’t understand.”)
The dead are silent, no matter how much you wish for their words.
In the mirror, my green eyes, so much like Mother’s, stared back at me. Gazing into those dark irises yielded only unending silence.
At that moment, the heavy quiet was shattered by the lively sound of footsteps. A boisterous voice blew away my muddled thoughts.
“Good morning! You’ve got to hear this! When I woke up this morning, my room was swarming with crickets and grasshoppers! I mean, absolutely infested! Crickets on the table, grasshoppers on the window, even on the bed! It was like hell!”
I couldn’t help but laugh at the breathless complaint.
“My condolences.”
“I’m telling you, it was awful! It took me ages to get rid of them all! And then when I swatted them with a broom, they’d go splat—and then I had to clean up their squashed bodies too…ugh. Anyway, that’s why I’m late.”
Lan Xin always had a way of pulling my gloomy heart back into the mundane realities of life. For that, I was deeply grateful.
(I’m always being saved by Lan Xin.)
Leaving the mirror behind, I turned to prepare the medicine box. First, I had to attend to the imperial concubines who had made requests. The Autumn Palace and the Spring Palace, was it?
“Oh, right. The Empress has summoned you. She wants to thank you for your help with Xuě Méi Concubine.”
(“How does the Empress always know these things?”)
Xuě Méi Concubine’s collapse wasn’t supposed to be public knowledge. To be honest, it was terrifying. Still, ignoring a summons wasn’t an option.
“Let’s go, then.”
Under the snow-laden sky, we set out.
The bamboo leaves were buried in snow, their green stalks standing out vividly against the silver-white landscape. Time marched on, and the seasons turned, leaving behind the regrets and hesitations of those who lingered in their thoughts.
◇
The Noble Palace was as dazzling as ever.
The snow that had piled atop the crystalline canopy of the Water Crystal Palace had already melted, and its interior was filled with radiant sunlight and seasonal blooms.
Amid the overpowering fragrance of flowers, Xīn Huá, the Empress, smiled serenely like the ruler of a kingdom of blossoms.
“I heard it was thanks to you that Xuě Méi Concubine’s child was born safely. You saved the life of the imperial princess. My, my, you’re such a remarkable little royal physician.”
(“How does she know about this?”)
Did the Empress have spies among Xuě Méi Concubine’s attendants? But it wasn’t something I could ask outright, so I simply bowed and replied, “I am honored by your praise.”
“Therefore, I shall promote Cài Fei Ling to the rank of cáirén, Fifth Rank.”
The Sixth Rank (Bǎolín) and Seventh Rank (Gūnǚ) were considered part of the emperor’s concubines. But cáirén was a step up, signifying her entry into the ranks of imperial consorts.
Lan Xin, for instance, held the rank of Gūnǚ, while her assistant Xiǎo Líng was ranked as Bǎolín.
“It’s unfortunate, but as the daughter of the late emperor, unless you win His Majesty’s favor, this is the highest rank you can achieve.”
“Your Majesty’s generosity is more than I deserve. I am deeply grateful for your kindness.”
The Empress wheeled her chair closer to me, and I instinctively lifted my gaze despite being in a bowing position. She spoke with an air of gentle authority.
“I trust in His Majesty’s love.”
At first, I didn’t understand what she meant. But after a moment, I realized: she was alluding to the suspicion I’d had when Xuě Méi Concubine was poisoned. It was a warning.
I paled, searching for words to defend myself, but the Empress spoke again before I could.
“Even when he dallies with other flowers, I know he’ll always return to me in the end. That, too, is a form of love, don’t you think?”
The Empress smiled radiantly, like a blooming flower.
