The Moon in the Palace (The Empress of Bright Moon Duology)

by Weina Dai Randel

  A soft drizzle fell outside, light, persistent, carrying a pleasing rhythm that reminded me of the sound of baby silkworms devouring mulberry leaves. It was the fifth month of the year, a good time to have some rain. I yearned to go outside, feel the raindrops on my face, and smell the fresh air, for the bedchamber was veiled with the thick scent of incense, ginseng, musk, clove, dried python bile, and the unpleasant odor of death. I had been inside for so long, I supposed I smelled just like the chamber. I knew my fellow Talent, Daisy, did, as well as the others who yawned in the corner. Each time one of them passed me, I could name the herb in her hair.

  Footsteps rose in the dark corridor, and red light from many lanterns poured through the doors. Finally, Pheasant and the Duke entered the chamber, their wet robes clinging to their chests. The physician, Sun Simiao, followed behind.

  I retreated to the corner, giving them space, as they had asked each time they came, although I wished to stand right beside them and listen to what the physician had to report. When he examined the Emperor earlier, he had sighed heavily.

  The men whispered in low voices, their eyes on the Emperor. The Duke sighed and sniffed, running a hand over his face. Pheasant, surprisingly, looked somber, although his eyes glittered.

  “Crown Prince,” the physician said, stepping aside to the screen, and Pheasant and the Duke followed him. “We have done the best we could. But I’m afraid I must tell you the dreadful news. The One Above All will not see the dawn’s light.”

  My heart jerked. I tried to remain motionless.

  “I understand.” Pheasant’s voice was soft and sad, and I stole a look at him. His eyes sparkled in the candlelight near the screen. His face was thinner, his jawline more refined than ever, and he had grown a beard.

  I remembered how grief-stricken Pheasant had been when he learned the Emperor had become ill last year. For days, Pheasant had stood by the bedside, with us women scurrying from the physicians’ herb chamber to the courtyard, carrying bowls of medicine. When we fed the Emperor, Pheasant, careless of his own life, would taste the liquid first, to ensure it had not been mixed with any pernicious ingredient by a vicious hand. When some of us fell down in fatigue after days without sleep, he would tell us to rest and watch the Emperor himself. He was a dutiful son, and I was not sure the Emperor deserved him.

  “If there is anything you need, Crown Prince,” the physician said, “we’re here to serve you.”

  “You have my gratitude, Physician Sun.” Pheasant nodded solemnly. His gaze swept past me. A swift look, but long enough to warm my heart. We had seen each other more often recently, as he came to visit his father almost every day. Sometimes, when the other Talents were not watching, he would brush my arm or hold my hand, and sometimes, when he went to use the privy chamber, I would follow him. There we would share some precious private moments, and it would be the highlight of my day. “Uncle?”

  The Duke bowed slightly. “Nephew.”

  The old man looked his usual self, his face long and hard and his gaze arrogant. I wondered how the Duke managed to stay in good health. He was the Emperor’s brother-in-law, and they were the same age, but while the Emperor was in the throes of death, the Duke still stood strong. For the past three years, he had been the Emperor’s close assistant, taking direct orders from him, writing edicts for him when he lost control of his arm. Since the Emperor had become ill the year before, the Duke had acted on the Emperor’s behalf, giving orders to the ministers. At the moment, he was the most powerful man in the kingdom.

  “I must prepare for the inevitable,” Pheasant said. “I would like you to arrange a meeting with the astrologers, Uncle, and report to me the auspicious dates for burial in the coming months. Also, summon the mausoleum’s mural painters for me, as well as the craftsmen who will build the four divine animal statues for the burial. I would like to examine their works and make certain all matters regarding the funeral are taken care of.”

  His voice was loud and steady, full of command and authority. I was proud of Pheasant. During the past months, he had shown a strength that was unknown even to himself. He had learned the rituals of worshipping Heaven and Earth and the judicial and penal processes, and familiarized himself with the governments of the sixteen prefectures of the kingdom. He had gathered ministers together, charmed them, and even won the support of the General, the commander of the ninety-nine legions of the Gold Bird Guards, who safeguarded the palace.

  “Of course, Nephew,” the Duke said, looking hesitant, “yet I would advise you not to tell the women of this devastating news at the moment.”

  “Why?” Pheasant looked surprised.

  The Duke coughed, and when he spoke again, his voice was so low I had to strain to hear. “For the women are most petty minded and troublesome… If they know their fate…”

  “What fate?”

  “Naturally, your father’s women shall never be seen or touched by any other men, and he has ordered that those who have borne him children must dwell in the safe Yeting Court for the rest of their lives.”

  Pheasant frowned. “I see. But what about the women who have not borne a child?”

  “They will be sent to the Buddhist monasteries around the kingdom, where they will pray for the Emperor’s soul. This is for the best and a fine tradition that dynasties follow.”

  I froze. Buddhist monasteries? He was banishing us. He was demanding we become Buddhist nuns, the ones who severed their secular ties to the world, the ones who forsook joy and desire, the ones with only past and no future. If we were banished there, scattered to the remote corners of the kingdom, we would hear nothing but the sound of misery, feel nothing but sorrow, see nothing but death. Our lives would end.

  A chill swept over my body. The Emperor’s death would be my noose.

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  The Empress of Bright Moon

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  A Conversation with the Author

  What inspired you to write this novel?

  I first had the idea of writing about women when I studied No Name Woman in Maxine Hong Kingston’s The Woman Warrior: Memoirs of a Girlhood among Ghosts in graduate school. Because that story was so depressing, I wanted to show my classmates that not all women had that kind of fate in China. I decided to write stories of Chinese women who succeeded in controlling their destinies. And who controlled her destiny better than Empress Wu? But I realized Empress Wu was so misrepresented, to understand her better, we had to start from her earlier years. That’s where The Moon in the Palace begins.

  If you could spend one day with an author, dead or alive, who would it be and why?

  Can I mention two authors? I love Arthur Golden’s Memoirs of a Geisha, and I must have read and reread it five times over the course of ten years. I would love to meet him someday!

  I would also love to spend a day with Mary Stewart, who unfortunately passed away. Her Merlin trilogy made such an impact on me at a time when I sought guidance during the early years of my writing. I learned so much from Merlin’s smart voice and also the way Stewart plotted her scenes. I used to take each chapter, study the structure of the scenes, and analyze how the story progressed. I also admire the voice of her female characters in her romantic suspense books. I love her strong female characters and how Stewart transmitted their intelligence through dialogue.

  What research or preparation did you engage in before writing this book?

  Oh my. I did a tremendous amount of research on this book. I read Wang Pu’s Tang Hui Yao and Liu Xu’s The Old Tang Book in archaic Chinese script, the earliest historical record about the Tang Dynasty. And then I read The New Tang Book, Book of Odes, Confucius’s Analects, Lao Tzu’s Tao Te Ching, Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, Ban Zhao’s Lessons for Women, poems before and after the Tang Dynasty, all in archaic Chinese texts and English translations, if I could find them. I spent three
years reading and decoding them before I started to write the novel and then continuously reading and studying them as I wrote.

  Because the archaic Chinese script is very condensed and the meanings have altered considerably in modern time, I sometimes spent hours just trying to decipher one word. To understand two couplets would sometimes take days. But thankfully, many British and American scholars were fascinated with ancient China and wrote extensively on many subjects in ancient China, so I was able to refer to them and compare the sources. But sometimes problems arose too. Many misunderstandings happened, words were misinterpreted, or sometimes the translations did not appear as graceful as the original texts. In those cases, I resorted to my own translation.

  I also read extensively about the world of Tang Dynasty so I could furnish my characters with a truthfully historical setting. I also studied the world history at that period so readers could place China in a global scope and understand the country better.

  But my ability to understand the archaic Chinese was not always enough. Once, I came across a Japanese author who wrote five books about Empress Wu, but I was unable to read Japanese. So I dug out a Chinese translation of the books and borrowed those books from a remote library in the United States with the help of my local library. They turned out to be very useful.

  Not all of my research findings were pleasant. I found it hard to digest the derogative and disparaging opinions about Empress Wu, and women in general. Sometimes I grew upset, and I simply wanted to throw my findings out the window.

  Which character do you feel most closely connected to?

  I feel most affinity with the young Mei, which was the main reason I decided to write a young Empress Wu, who was still at an age when romantic love mattered most for her, before she was embroiled in political games.

  I can identify with the thrill, the innocence, and the sweetness essential to young love since I was a teenager once. I also have some understanding of forbidden love. When I grew up in China, I was told any expressions of affection to boys were ruinous. Education was the only path that would help me find a better future, so it was most important for me. My parents forbade me to date, and teachers thought it detrimental to cast amorous glances in the classroom. I never dated anyone in school, but I saw how my rebellious friends stole away and met their lovers in secret. So I suppose I can say that I had a taste of love blossoming on discouraging soil.

  I can also identify with Mei’s love for her parents, as filial piety is ingrained in the Chinese culture and I was taught so at an early age. As a little girl, I knew the importance of obeying my parents’ will and pleasing them. I think this sentiment was manifested in Mei as she tried to become the Empress to please her father.

  Are any of your characters inspired by the people around you?

  I hope not! Especially Jewel. I love her as a character—devious, ambitious, but tragic—but I never personally knew anyone like her in my real life.

  Acknowledgments

  A Chinese adage says, “It takes ten years to sharpen a sword.” Well, this book took ten years to write. Ten years is a long time, and I have many people to thank over this long journey.

  My first and foremost gratitude goes to my husband, Mark, who encourages me to pursue my dream and supports me during the writing process. You always have the magic to inspire me and make me laugh, and this will not change no matter how many years pass. And to my two adorable children, Annabelle and Joshua, my passion in real life: I love you through and through.

  Thank you to my gentle and brave editorial director, Shana Drehs. I cannot believe you took a chance with a first-time author like me and agreed on a two-book deal before you even glimpsed a word of the second book. I am so grateful for your faith in me. It must have been my destiny to meet you years ago.

  Thank you to my gifted editor, Anna Michels. You have put in many hours perfecting this manuscript, and your suggestions were invaluable. I am fortunate to be in your good hands.

  Thank you to my amazing agent, Shannon Hassan, who burst into my life and helped my dream come true. I love your decisiveness and efficiency.

  Thank you to Deb Werksman, from the bottom of my heart, for your email that brought me to this beautiful outcome. The wait would have been much longer without you!

  Thank you to the most generous Jeannie Lin, for passionately helping me with the query letter and offering me publication insights.

  Thank you to Diana Gabaldon, for providing me with confidence when I was enveloped in the dust of doubt and disappointment.

  Thank you to Christy English, for reading my manuscript and offering me excellent feedback and encouragement.

  Thank you too to Dianna Rostad, Karen Walters, Cindy Vallar, and Laura Vogel, for critiquing my pages. To Dianna, especially, for leaving feedback in my mailbox whenever I asked, and to Karen, for inspiring me to rewrite the first chapter.

  Thank you to Renae Bruce, who would search tirelessly for a word that I needed, and Lei Zhang and Elaine Cho. You are my friends for life.

  Thank you to Katrina Kuroda, for picking up my boy at preschool so I could attend critique groups.

  Thank you to Sheila Randel and Ray Randel, for welcoming me to your family with open arms and reading my pages whenever I asked. I am so grateful for your love and acceptance.

  Thank you too to all the people who offered generous help when I was in desperate need: A. Lee Martinez, Deborah DeFrank, Stephany Evans, Katie Grimm, Natalie Lakosil, Dawn Frederick, Rachel Udin, Deborah Needleman Armintor, Carolyn Woolston, Jeanne Ledwell, and Lisa Stone-Hardt.

  Last, but not least, thanks to my family and friends in China, whom I have not seen for ten years. This was never meant to be a bet, but now that the book is published, I can go home.

  About the Author

  Photo credit: JCPenney Portrait Studios

  Weina Dai Randel was born and raised in China. She has worked as a journalist, a magazine editor, and an adjunct professor. Her passion for history tells her to share classical Chinese literature, tales of Chinese dynasties, and stories of Chinese historical figures with American readers. She is a member of the Historical Novel Society and currently lives in Texas. The Moon in the Palace is her first novel.

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