Chapter Thirty-Seven

After we finished dinner, he set up another game of chess with me. Unhurried, we sipped tea and played until the night grew very late, when I finally drove him off with a combination of losses and coaxing. I was tidying up the endgame when Wan’er rushed in; her face was pale and she stared at me. The palace maids and eunuchs hurriedly bowed and retreated to one side, not daring to breathe.

Her stare made my heart pound. I was about to dismiss everyone when she stepped forward, grasped my wrist, and said in a low voice, “The emperor summons you to the Hall of Everlasting Life.” I saw her hesitate—knowing there were many people here and she couldn’t speak freely—and had no time to tell Yixi to fetch my robe. I quickly followed her out the door.

Outside, a few unfamiliar eunuchs were waiting. When the two of us hurriedly bowed and saluted, they followed closely behind, matching our steps.

Wan’er remained silent the whole time, clutching my hand tightly and pressing her lips together. Only when we reached the gate of the Changsheng Hall did she find a chance to whisper, “Once you go in it’s a matter of life and death—be careful with every word.” I nodded and hurried into the hall.

Under the bright palace lamps, the palace maids and eunuchs had already withdrawn; only Yongtai knelt in the center, sobbing softly.

My imperial grandaunt frowned at her, and when she saw me enter to pay my respects she spoke wearily, “Yongan, come.” The moment I saw Yongtai I caught a hint of what was happening; my heart thudded, and I forced a smile as I stepped forward and stood beside His Majesty.

The emperor didn’t hurry to speak; he just looked at me. I bowed my head and stared at the floor, racing through every worst-case scenario that could have given Wan’er such a fright and left Yongtai kneeling alone in the hall — it must be that Imperial Great-Grandmother had already learned of Zhang Jiuling. I just didn’t know how much she had heard from Yongtai, and how much she had pieced together on her own.

The hall was filled with a heady, intoxicating scent, yet it was oppressively quiet.

“Yongan, Yongtai has always been spoiled by me; she isn’t as sensible as you,” Imperial Great-Grandmother said. “There are things I’d rather ask you about than have her speak of them.” I nodded and lifted my head to look directly at her. She sighed and continued, “Zhang Jiuling is a handsome young man; it’s understandable that Yongtai would regard him differently. But sometimes things get out of hand and become hard to resolve. You handled this with more foresight and spared the imperial family’s reputation.”

My palms were slick with fine sweat as she spoke slowly; I didn’t dare move an inch.

Empress Dowager paused, thought for a moment, then smiled gently: “It’s just that I don’t quite understand something. I only knew you’d known Longji since childhood, but I didn’t know you had been acquainted with Chengqi so early on.” I smiled and replied calmly, “When Chancellor Di took office, Yong’an had already met the Prince of Yongping; later, because he borrowed the prince’s calligraphy practice sheets and copied them, they spoke a few times—so it’s not exactly a very close acquaintance.”

Great-aunt Empress stared at me, her expression unreadable.

If that night had never happened, she might have believed me when I said this. But Yongtai mentioned that night—saying I had spent it with Prince Yongping yet had sent no one to inform the palace—and she surely would no longer trust me. All those little details from years in the palace, if she reexamined them with that incident in mind, she would figure out eight or nine parts of the truth; that remaining one part was simply waiting for me to confess.

At this point, smooth talk and shifting explanations were only cover-ups; only a confession might still leave room for argument.

Thinking this, I dared not cling to hope. I knelt down abruptly, bowed my head, and said, “Your great-aunt Empress, your grandson begs your punishment.”

She said lightly, “How did it go from talking to suddenly kneeling? Yongtai came to beg me, and you come to beg me too — I’m getting a bit confused. She asked me to bless a marriage; Yong’an, what is it you ask for?”

I kowtowed heavily, speaking in a low voice, “Although Yong’an was granted in marriage to the Prince of Linzi, he harbors feelings for his elder brother and asks Her Imperial Great-Grandmother to punish him.” After saying this, I felt Yongtai’s unblinking stare and couldn’t help but feel even more bitter. Even with prior scheming, it couldn’t stop her rashness; as for Zhang Jiuling’s calculations, who could now predict them — I only hope it won’t mean death for Li Chengqi.

Her Imperial Great-Grandmother did not seem surprised, replying calmly, “You mean to say I matched the wrong person in marriage, and now you, like Yongtai, ask me to bless the union?”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and said, “No matter how good the Prince of Yongping is, his heart does not belong to Yong’an. Since that night when the prince spoke harshly and cut him off, Yong’an’s heart has belonged only to the Prince of Linzi and no one else. Today he only asks Your Imperial Great-Grandmother’s punishment for that rash night.”

Her Imperial Great-Grandmother said coldly, “Raise your head and look at Me.” I obeyed and lifted my gaze, meeting her deep-set eyes. She studied me for a moment, sighed, and said, “If you truly have worth, marrying him could count as My granddaughter-in-law — it’s just a pity how much Long Ji cared for you.”

For a moment, as I looked at the smile on her face, I felt dazed.

After so many years of waiting for an imperial match, it was now within reach. If not for the circumstances, I would have been unable to restrain myself from kneeling and kowtowing in gratitude. But Imperial Great-Grandmother is so suspicious; if I nodded even slightly, it would be taken as overturning everything she had just said. All my selfish hopes would be twisted into a secret scheme between Li Chengqi and me, a crime that would condemn him to death.

I clenched my hand until my palm hurt; every part of me ached under the weight of the pressure. I shook my head gently and said, “Yong’an is willing to accept any punishment for this matter, but I will not marry the Prince of Yongping. In Yong’an’s heart there is only the Prince of Linzi. Whether as servant or maid, whether living or dead, in this life I only ask to remain at the Prince of Linzi’s side.” The words left my mouth and I felt my heart hollow out; all the past surged back like a tide, silently washing away the last of my hope.

The Imperial Aunt scrutinized me for a moment; the smile vanished from her eyes, leaving only coldness. She spoke in a low voice toward the hall’s entrance, “Wan’er, come in.” Wan’er, who had been waiting outside, hurried in and bowed as usual, saying, “Your handmaiden is here.” The Imperial Aunt no longer looked at me and gave a curt order, “Grind. I will issue an edict.”

Wan’er went to a side table, drew in her sleeves to grind the ink, lifted her brush, and waited in silence.

Imperial Great-Aunt first glanced at Yongtai, who was kneeling on the ground, and said, “Bestow Yongtai in marriage to the son of Duke of Zhou, Wu Chengsi — Wu Yanjī.” Yongtai suddenly raised her head, trying to say something, but was frozen by Imperial Great-Aunt’s cold stare, and could only keep crying as her shoulders trembled and she bowed to thank her.

She was silent for a moment, then continued, “Prince Yongping, spoiled by favor and arrogant, disregarded rites and is reduced to the title of Prince of Shouchun. Princess Yongan deceived the sovereign and violated duty; considering her many years attending the court without error, only her title is stripped and she is removed from the Wu family genealogy. She is granted to the Prince of Linzi as a fourth-rank concubine. The prince’s side consort, Lady Wang, comes from a notable family, is gentle and obedient, and is bestowed the principal consort title,” Wan’er paused briefly, and Imperial Great-Aunt added, “Wuyonghui, daughter of Prince Hengan, has the bearing of great nobility; she is granted in marriage to the Prince of Linzi as a side consort and will complete the marriage upon turning thirteen.”

When everything was said, she sighed deeply and said, “I owe Longji one Wu family princess; your younger sister will have to make it up.”

I knew she still half believed and half doubted, yet in the end she let us go. I quietly kowtowed once and respectfully said, “Yongan thanks Imperial Great-Aunt for seeing to this.”

The next evening I was taken to the Eastern Palace, to where Li Longji lived. The morning edict had made everything clear to those who needed to know, but most in the palace were still speculating: how could I, a favored martial-marquis’s daughter and princess, be so severely punished? How could a proud Princess of Linzi be demoted overnight to a fourth-rank concubine?

Li Longji was still young; he had only Lady Wang as his primary consort and two childhood attendants as concubines. I was placed in Chaoyan Hall. On our bridal night there were only a few nuptial lamps lit, yet all the customary gifts and rewards were given in full.

I sat on the wedding bed until the wedding maidens pulled aside the curtains and let light fill the room, and then I saw Li Longji press his lips together tightly. He tossed the maidservant who had handled the ceremony to one side and sent away the eunuchs and palace maids.

He poured a cup of tea, came to the bedside, and handed it to me. “If you’re tired, sleep first.” I smiled at him, took the tea, and sipped it. He was clearly awkward, unsure whether to sit or stand; after a long silence he sighed and said, “If you’re not tired, tell me what actually happened.”

I patted the space beside me and said, “Sit down and speak.” He let out a long breath, sat, and asked, “You can still laugh?” I was silent for a moment, turned to look at him and said, “I told the Grandmother of the emperor that my heart belongs only to you. Whether slave or servant, alive or dead, in this life I only ask to be by your side. If I didn’t laugh, wouldn’t people start guessing?”

He was taken aback for a moment, half-smiling with a trace of helplessness: “Yong’an, do you remember what I told you? If you truly marry me, no matter how many women I, as your lord and brother, take for the Li family — no matter which noble households they come from — no one will be able to bully you.” Hearing him repeat his words from before, I had no strength left to smile: “I believe you, but you also can’t offend the noble families for me. After all, however favored you are now, you’re still a prince without real power.”

He frowned and looked at me, saying, “Do you think I can’t even manage a few women in my household?” I shook my head and said, “There are things like rank and propriety you can’t just break; otherwise it will bring trouble in others’ eyes.” He stared at me, and after a while said, “Everyone in the palace knows how I feel about you. The night I married her and went to find you, it was to guard against her belittling you later.” I smiled at him and said, “I know.”

He didn’t say more. He reached out to remove the comb and hairpins from my coiffure; the more he took out, the more tangled they became, and he couldn’t help but sigh softly: “This is my first time doing this kind of thing. It seems being a palace maid takes skill.” I stared motionless at the tall festive candles, letting him fuss, and after quite a while he finished taking everything out, laid each piece in his palm, walked to the dressing table to put them down, and then changed my tea cup for me.

I watched him keep moving, understanding he meant to, but not knowing how to persuade him otherwise, so I got up, snuffed out the lamp, and went to blow out the two wedding candles.

He paused, and after his eyes adjusted to the dark he came to my side and said softly, “Tonight you sleep in the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.” I nodded, drew down the bed curtain, and listened to the sound of him settling before I lay down.