by Natsu Hyuuga
With the young prince deceased, the Emperor’s younger brother was now first in line for the succession. Although the Imperial younger brother was, like the ruler himself, the son of the Empress Dowager, it seemed he rarely saw the light of day. A seat of honor had been provided for the prince, but in fact it was empty. He was frequently ill, rarely leaving his room and performing no official duties.
Everyone had a different explanation for this: that the Emperor was quite fond of his substantially younger sibling and wanted to keep him calm for the sake of his health; that he wanted to keep the prince isolated and out of sight; or that the Empress Mother was overprotective and refused to allow the young man outside.
At any rate, none of it had anything to do with Maomao.
The food wouldn’t be served until after noon; at the moment, the guests were enjoying musical performances and dances. Consort Gyokuyou was attended only by Hongniang; unless they had some particular business, her other ladies held station behind a curtain and awaited any instructions.
The Empress Dowager was currently rocking the princess in her arms. The woman exuded a class and unfading beauty that could not be ignored even with the four esteemed consorts around her. She appeared so young that, seated beside the Emperor, she could easily have been taken for His Majesty’s queen.
And the Empress Dowager was, in fact, relatively young. When Yinghua had told Maomao exactly how young—and when Maomao had done a little figuring from the current Emperor’s age to determine how old his mother must have been when she bore him—it was enough to make her profoundly suspicious toward the previous sovereign. There were those possessed of a special deviancy by which they favored very young girls—but how should one react when one’s own ruler had possessed such a proclivity? In any event, the Empress Mother had held strong and given birth to the child, and for that at least, Maomao respected her.
As Maomao was having these thoughts, a gust of wind sprang up. She felt herself shiver. They couldn’t even bother to set up a tent for us? she thought. The curtain she stood behind was only just enough to keep the attendants out of sight; it did little to block the wind. And if Maomao and the other ladies-in-waiting with their warm stones were feeling cold, how much worse must it be for the ladies of the other consorts? She could see them shivering furiously, and a few were turning pigeon-toed. She didn’t think there would be any particular problem with going to use the toilet at that moment, but maybe there were certain pretenses that just had to be kept up with the other ladies watching.
It was a problem, the way these ladies-in-waiting felt compelled to play out proxy battles on behalf of their mistresses. And the head ladies-in-waiting, who might have been able to whip them into line, were busy attending the consorts. There was no one to stop the subordinate women.
At the moment, they were almost like two paintings, one of which could be entitled Consort Gyokuyou’s Forces Confront Those of Consort Lihua, and the other of which could be called The Forces of the Pure Consort Confront Those of the Virtuous Consort. And let it be noted that “Gyokuyou’s forces” consisted of just four women, less than half of those they were ranged against. The numbers were against them, but Yinghua was striving to make up the difference.
“What’s that? Plain? What are you, dumb? Ladies-in-waiting exist for one reason—to serve their mistress. What good would it do them, preening and posturing?”
Apparently there was an argument over their outfits. The ladies across from Maomao and Yinghua served Consort Lihua, and as such their ensembles were based on the color blue. The outfits were frilly and heavily accessorized, making them rather more conspicuous than Gyokuyou’s retinue.
“You’re the one who’s dumb. If a lady doesn’t look good, it reflects badly on her mistress. But what else would you expect from someone who’d hire such a clumsy oaf?” The girls from the Crystal Pavilion all set up a giggle.
Oop, I think I’m being made fun of. Maomao had the thought almost as if it were about someone else. No doubt she was the oaf in question. She was just as aware as anyone that she was hardly above average in any way by the standards of the rear palace.
The proud lady making these pronouncements was one of those who had defied Maomao before. She had force of personality, but without anything to ground her; she was constantly saying, “I’m going to tell my father!” To shut her up, Maomao had found her when she was alone once and pinned her against a wall, sliding a knee between the girl’s thighs and tickling the nape of her neck with one finger. “Fine,” she had said. “Let’s just leave you too embarrassed to tell him anything.” After that, the girl had kept her distance.
Guess the red-light district gave me a unique sense of humor.
At least one that didn’t work with sheltered children of the nobility. Now the young woman always kept Maomao at arm’s length, flinching away as if afraid of what might happen to her next. Too inexperienced with the ways of the world to take a joke for what it was.
“I can see she’s not here. I guess you left her behind. Good choice. It would be humiliating for the consort to have such a hideous creature around. I’m sure she wouldn’t even get a single decorative hair stick.”
The serving woman had evidently completely missed Maomao.
That’s not very nice. After we worked together for two months, too.
It was taking the best efforts of two other women to keep Yinghua from tackling the nasty attendant, and Maomao thought maybe it was time to put this little argument to rest. She went around behind Yinghua, holding up her hand to hide her nose, and looked at the young women in blue. One of them glanced at her suspiciously, realized who she was looking at, went pale, and started whispering to the other woman. With her hand in front of her nose, they realized it was Maomao even without her freckles.
Word worked its way along the chain of serving women like a whisper game until it reached the haughty lady at the front. The finger she had been pointing imperiously started to shake, and her mouth hung open. Her eyes met Maomao’s.
Finally noticed me, huh? Maomao smiled her biggest smile, looking to Lihua’s ladies-in-waiting like a wolf who had cornered her prey.
“Ah—Ah, ahh, ahem!” Apparently the woman was so flabbergasted she could hardly think of anything to say.
“Yes? What?” Yinghua said, not knowing Maomao was standing behind her grinning. The suddenly meek-looking lady-in-waiting puzzled her.
“I-I—I think you’ve had enough for today. J-Just be glad I’m letting you off.” With that barely coherent parting shot, the lady bolted for the far end of the curtained area. There were plenty of open spaces, but she pointedly chose the one farthest away from Maomao and Gyokuyou’s other women. Maomao looked at Yinghua and the others, who were staring open-mouthed. Funny. It still hurts.
Yinghua composed herself and then saw Maomao. “Bah, I always knew she was a witch. I’m sorry you had to hear that. What a thing to say about someone so sweet.” Yinghua sounded downright apologetic.
“It doesn’t bother me,” Maomao said. “Anyway, don’t you want to change your hand warmers?”
It really didn’t bother Maomao, so it was no problem. But Yinghua wouldn’t stop frowning and offering her looks of sympathy.
“No, it’s all right. They’re still warm. Still, I can’t help wondering why that girl broke out shivering so suddenly.” The other two ladies-in-waiting seemed to be asking the same question. The three of them from the Jade Pavilion were all devoted workers, but they shared a certain tendency to daydream, and it left them oblivious to some things. But Maomao somehow liked that about them, even if it could make them a little tricky to work with.
“Who knows? Maybe she had to go pick some flowers, if you know what I mean,” Maomao said rather brazenly.
For those keeping track, Maomao’s legend was growing: she was now a girl who had been abused by her father, then sold into the rear palace, made food taster like a disposable pawn, and after all that, she’d been compelled to spend two months enduring the
slings and arrows of the residents of the Crystal Pavilion. She was, so it was held, so deeply mistrustful of men that she even felt the need to blemish her own face.
Inconveniently for Maomao, in other words, Yinghua and the others were just as imaginative as any girls their age. Even Jinshi’s endless smiles were turned, in their minds, into looks of pity for the poor young thing. Maomao couldn’t understand where they were getting that idea.
But as it would have been a great deal of trouble to try to set them straight, she let the story stand.
Meanwhile, another proxy battle was still going on. Seven on seven. One group of ladies-in-waiting in white, and the other in black. The first group were the women of Lishu, the Virtuous Consort, and the second served Ah-Duo, the Pure Consort.
“They don’t exactly get along, either,” Yinghua said. She was warming her hands over the brazier. She was also quietly roasting and eating some chestnuts Maomao had snuck in, but the women of the Crystal Pavilion were keeping their distance, and there was no one with enough of the moral high ground to chastise the two of them for it. “Lady Lishu is fourteen years old, and Lady Ah-Duo is thirty-five. Both consorts, but far enough apart in age to be mother and daughter. No wonder they don’t see eye to eye.”
“Yes, no wonder,” said a reserved lady-in-waiting, Guiyuan. “With the Virtuous Consort so young and the Pure Consort so old, it must be a rather tricky relationship to navigate.”
“And the Virtuous Consort is pretty much the mother-in-law of the Pure Consort,” added the lanky lady-in-waiting Ailan with a nod. Both she and Guiyuan seemed less excitable than Yinghua, but all three of them were perfectly happy to gossip, as girls their age will.
“Mother-in-law?” Maomao asked, surprised. It didn’t seem like an expression that was heard much around the rear palace.
“Oh, yes. The situation is a bit complicated...”
Lishu and Ah-Duo, Maomao was informed, had been the consorts of the former Emperor and the young prince, respectively. When the former Emperor had passed away, the Virtuous Consort had left the palace for the period of mourning. This was chiefly for show, however, and by abandoning the world—that is, becoming a nun—for a brief time, it was considered to be as if she had never served the previous Emperor, and she then married the late ruler’s son. It wasn’t precisely aboveboard, but it was the sort of thing the powerful could get away with.
The last Emperor died five years ago, Maomao reflected. At that time, the Virtuous Consort would have been nine years old. Even if the marriage was purely political, it was an unsettling thought. When she thought about how the Empress Dowager had entered the rear palace even younger, it was beyond unsettling; she felt the bile rise in her throat. It made the current Emperor seem downright benign. All right, so he had a weakness for especially plump fruit, but he didn’t share his father’s deviancies.
He may be insatiable, but at least he doesn’t go for... that. She pictured the thoroughly-bearded ruler. One heard the most shocking things in passing conversation.
“That can’t be true, can it? A bride at nine?” Ailan said disbelievingly. Thank goodness.
Chapter 18: The Garden Party (Part Three)
The first impression one had of Lishu, the Virtuous Consort, was that she was not very sensitive to the mood around her. The first part of the banquet had ended, and there was a break before the next part began. Maomao and Guiyuan went to see Princess Lingli. While Guiyuan was exchanging her hand warmer, which had gone cold, for a fresh one, Maomao took a quick look at the child.
Looks like she’s in decent health.
Lingli, her face as red as an apple, had a healthy chubbiness that was a far cry from when Maomao had first seen her, and both her father, the Emperor, and her grandmother, the Empress Dowager, doted on her.
Not sure she should be outside like this, though. It was especially unconscionable considering all the heads that would roll if the princess were to catch a cold on account of the elements. Just to be safe, they had engaged a craftsperson to create a crib with a sort of cover, not unlike a bird’s nest.
Eh, she’s cute. I guess that’s a good enough reason.
Ah, a fearful thing, babies: this one could tug on even Maomao’s heartstrings, and she had no special fondness for children. When Lingli began squirming to get out, Maomao packed her assiduously into her carrier and was just handing her to Hongniang when she heard a pronounced snort from behind her.
A young woman in elaborate peach-pink sleeves was looking at her. Several ladies-in-waiting were lined up behind her. She had a charmingly childish face herself, but at the moment her lips were pursed in obvious displeasure. Perhaps she was upset that Maomao had gone straight to the child without paying her respects to her.
Would this be the young bride, then? Maomao wondered. Hongniang and Guiyuan were bowing respectfully to her, so Maomao followed suit. Consort Lishu, still looking thoroughly put out, marched off with her ladies-in-waiting in her wake.
“Was that the Virtuous Consort?”
“That was her, all right. She stands out in a crowd.”
“But it seems she can’t read one.”
Each of the Emperor’s “four ladies” was assigned a distinctive color palette of her own. Consort Gyokuyou’s was ruby and jade, Lihua’s ultramarine and crystal. To judge by the color of her attendants’ robes, Ah-Duo, the Pure Consort, must have been given the color black. She lived in the Garnet Pavilion, suggesting the garnet was the gemstone with which she was associated.
If they’re going by the five elements, you’d expect the last color to be white. The light-pink color worn by Consort Lishu seemed dangerously close to duplicating the red of Consort Gyokuyou. The two ladies were seated beside each other at the banquet, creating the impression that their colors clashed.
Actually... She realized the argument among the serving women that she had inadvertently eavesdropped on had been about roughly the same subject. One group had been scolding the other for wearing colors that weren’t sufficiently distinguished from those of the mistress they accompanied.
“It makes you wish she’d grow up, doesn’t it?” The way Hongniang sighed said it all.
Maomao took the cooled hand warmer and put it on the brazier they had waiting for just this purpose. She could see several ladies-in-waiting watching from a distance, so with Gyokuyou’s blessing, she distributed a number of the warm stones. She was admittedly a little perplexed: these women were accustomed to a life of silk and gemstones, but some gently heated rocks could bring them genuine joy.
Sadly, the women of the Crystal Pavilion kept their distance from Maomao as if magnetically repelled. She could see them shivering—they should have just taken the hand warmers.
“Aren’t you just a bit of a soft touch?” Yinghua asked, exasperated.
“Now that you mention it, perhaps.” She had only expressed her feelings openly. Come to think of it...
It had become rather crowded behind the curtain since the break had started. It wasn’t just ladies-in-waiting; military and civil officials were there, too. All of them carried accessories in at least one hand. Some spoke to the serving ladies one on one, while others were surrounded by a small crowd of women. Guiyuan and Ailan were talking to a military man Maomao didn’t recognize.
“This is how they find the best girls hidden in our little garden of flowers,” Yinghua explained to her. She gave a snort as if she were somehow above it all. What had her so worked up?
“Ah.”
“They give them those accessories, as a symbol.”
“Oh.”
“Of course, it can sometimes mean something else...”
“Uh-huh.”
Yinghua crossed her arms and pouted at Maomao’s uncharacteristically uninterested responses. “I said, it can sometimes mean something else!”
“Yes, I heard you.” She didn’t seem even about to ask what that was supposed to mean.
“Fine, give me the hair stick,” Yinghua said, pointing to the ornament Maom
ao had received from Jinshi.
“All right, but you have to do rock-paper-scissors for it with the other two girls,” Maomao said as she flipped over the stones in the brazier. She didn’t want this to turn into a fight. Besides, if Hongniang found out she had just given away the stick to the first person who asked, she’d probably be in for another smack on the back of the head. The chief lady-in-waiting had a quick hand.
For Maomao, who had every intention of getting back to her home after her two years of service were up, “making it in the world” held no attraction.
Besides, if he’s going to think it gives him the right to push me around, I would rather go back to serving in the Crystal Pavilion, Maomao thought with a look like she was observing a dead cicada.
That was when she heard a gentle voice: “Take this, young lady.” An ornamental hair stick was presented to her. A small, light-pink coral decoration bobbed from it.
Maomao looked up to discover a virile-looking man giving her an ingratiating smile. He was still young, and had no beard. He looked manly enough as far as it went, but his diligent smile aroused no feelings whatsoever in Maomao, who had an uncommonly strong resistance to such things.
The man, a military officer, saw she wasn’t reacting the way he had expected, but he didn’t withdraw the proffered gift. He was in a half-crouch, so his ankles were starting to shake.