A court recorder stepped up and cleared his throat, unfurling a scroll. “With the presence of all the titled ladies in the Inner Court and the court recorders, I do now announce that the court commence the ceremony of the imperial adoption as so ordered by Empress Wang, the mother of our kingdom.”
“Come, Zhong.” The Empress beckoned to the boy. She looked proud, her broad shoulders square, her back erect. “Come to your mother.”
“Mother.” The boy pulled up the front of his robe and knelt before her.
“The wife of Emperor Gaozong, Empress Wang, has officiated the adoption of the son of Emperor Gaozong and his deceased concubine, Rain of the Chang family. The child, who was given the name of Li Zhong, shall be known and honored as the firstborn of the Empress and Emperor Gaozong, the grandson of Emperor Taizong, the great grandson of Emperor Gaozu, the founder of the Tang Dynasty. Now the court commences the recital of the lineage of the imperial Li family and that of the Empress’s.”
The list went on and on, and finally, the court recorder finished his reading. “Now the court commences the ceremony of mother and son. Li Zhong, pay respect to your mother.”
I watched in distaste. The boy must have been grateful to the Empress for his new status. For years he had lived in obscurity, and now with the adoption, he would come to fame. He would bow to the Empress, do her bidding to please her, and he would be rewarded.
Zhong touched his head on the ground. Once, twice, three times. “Empress Mother, Empress Mother, Empress Mother.”
“My son.” That woman extended her hand. She smiled, but her face was rigid and her voice was dry. She seemed to be addressing a dog blocking her way or a servant whose name she did not know. Then she turned to a red lacquered tray to pick up a gold necklace intertwined with dragons. “This is my gift to you.”
She put it around his neck, and Zhong bowed again, three times. Then together they stood, with her giant stature and his lean figure, his back slightly stooped, like a pair of poorly matched clowns.
“I am pleased. I am greatly pleased.” She put her hand on his shoulder, but her hand was large, and it must have come down heavier than she intended, because the boy cringed, hunched his back, and straightened again.
She was not a mother. She would never be. Some women could never be mothers—no matter how hard they tried—and Empress Wang was one of them. I remembered once my friend the Noble Lady had said a mother was a tree whose branches would grow to shelter the nest for her birds, but the woman in front of me was a rock that provided no shelter or warmth, from which no life could breed.
Princess Gaoyang nudged me, and I sighed, preparing to rise.
“Ladies, I now command you to listen to my son’s order.” She was not finished with us yet. “Zhong. Tell them.”
I frowned. It was rude that a newly adopted son would command us, the ladies of his father, but I could see why the Empress was doing this. She wanted to use him to intimidate us.
The boy’s face brightened, and he grinned, too widely. He went back to the stool where he had sat earlier and cleared his throat. “Ladies of the Inner Court, by the order of my Empress Mother, I now command your loyalty to me, the son of Empress Wang and Emperor Gaozong, the new Crown Prince of the Eastern Palace, the future heir of Great China.”
A wave of murmurs, mixed with surprise and disbelief, came from the ladies behind me, and I could feel Princess Gaoyang shaking her head beside me. And I wanted to sigh. He already considered himself to be the heir. That was extremely bold of him, and that he would order us to give him an oath was even more shameless.
“You heard him.” The Empress’s voice came again, impatient. “Recite the verses of oath.”
For a moment, I could not recall the words I had learned from the Code of Courtly Conduct many years ago, but the others around me began to speak, and I remembered. “May the Crown Prince of the kingdom guide us with the teaching of the woman’s way, govern us with the light of his wisdom and righteousness, and punish us when we forget the principle of compliance. I beseech the heir of the kingdom to accept my pledge. I shall serve you, I shall obey you, I shall revere you, with my soul, my heart, and those of my progeny.”
A cage of words. I felt trapped, shut inside its thick bars and stifling air. And the Empress was watching me, like a prowling beast ready to pounce on its prey.
16
Pheasant was furious. He had not been consulted about the matter, and he would not consent to the adoption, he announced in the Audience Hall. But after Pheasant retired from the audience, Prince Ke, who had been advising him on some matters, pulled him aside and spoke with him. A man of mild disposition, the prince did not think it was wise to oppose the Empress, since the adoption had already been made public.
Unsure of what to do, Pheasant summoned the Regent and asked his opinion.
“It is unacceptable that the Empress would adopt the child without your consent,” the Regent said with a frown. “She has crossed the code of obedience and propriety, and she should be reminded that a woman must not override her husband and make her own decisions!”
But he shook his head when Pheasant expressed his desire to denounce the adoption. “This is your domestic affair, Nephew. I understand I must not interfere, but the Empress is barren. She will never conceive. Adopting a son, even the one born by a low concubine, is better than being without any son. We shall hope that with the adoption, she will find peace, and our kingdom will find peace and cease gossiping.”
Still unwilling to accept the adoption, Pheasant asked me as we lay in bed that night. He was deeply concerned about Zhong, I could tell. The boy had lived in the palace only a few years, and he had yet to understand the treacherous web spinning around him. “I had planned for him to live in quiet outside the palace, and now it is too late.” Pheasant gave a heavy sigh.
I was tormented. For days I had been angry, sickened by the Empress’s scheme, and I was inclined to urge Pheasant to denounce the adoption. But the Regent did not seem to like to hear any more discussions on the subject, and in my heart I also understood Prince Ke’s concern. Pheasant’s position was still delicate in the court. He had just gained his support, and if he openly waged a war against the Empress, it would cause an uproar in the kingdom.
I sighed, stroking Pheasant’s back. Near us, Lion was sleeping soundly, his breathing a soothing melody.
I had to be patient. Pheasant had to be patient too.
• • •
The next day, Pheasant reluctantly announced that he would accept the adoption and recognize Zhong as the future heir. That afternoon, Zhong moved into the Eastern Palace, joining his adopted mother, and began his new life.
Zhong settled in comfortably, Apricot reported to me. A group of tutors were assigned to him, to teach him law, classics, rites, and the prefectures in the kingdom. They were either the Empress’s relatives or the Secretary’s close allies, handpicked by the Empress. Zhong also proved to have quite a talent for governing, quickly learning the rituals, protocols, and the duties of the government. Given time, he would become a capable candidate for the throne.
The Empress took her newly adopted son everywhere in the Outer Palace. Her head held high, she introduced Zhong to the ministers and asked them for recommendations of noble maidens of betrothal age. It was time for the heir to wed, she said. He was only ten!
The ministers bowed to her, promising they would make inquiries into any suitable maidens. No one mentioned the Empress’s barrenness again, and the Empress asked for her uncle’s return as Secretary. As it happened, the Chancellor found someone else who had failed to report the counterfeited coppers and deemed the Empress’s uncle innocent. He was reinstated the next day.
The Empress also demanded that she take back her duty in the workshops, which Pheasant refused. But the Pure Lady fell sick again and was unable to provide care for the workshops. Pheasant had no choice but t
o turn to the Empress.
With her power restored, the Empress was triumphant, and she ordered Sujie and Lion to pay respect to the new heir at dawn each morning. This was a new protocol, she asserted, and for hours, the two poor children knelt in the dawn light, yawning, shivering in the cold, waiting for the heir to rise from bed. Lion, who had just started to crawl, cried and fell asleep on the ground. Little Sujie was late one day. The Empress chastised him and ordered him to crawl around the courtyard for ten rounds. Poor Sujie was in tears.
I was worried. She was tormenting the children to punish me and the Pure Lady.
Prince Ke told me of another incident that concerned me. He was reviewing tax documents with some ministers when the Empress burst in with the new heir and her uncle. She grabbed the scroll from a minister’s hand. “There!” she cried out, pointing at a word that, when spoken, bore the same sound as “zhong.” “He has defiled the heir’s name!”
The poor minister was lashed before everyone’s eyes, and from then on, few ministers dared to join the meeting with Prince Ke.
The Empress, armed with her new son, had started to retaliate. She was cutting us out, eliminating us, like a gardener trimming the unwanted branches of a tree.
• • •
“Why do you want to visit the Pure Lady?” Princess Gaoyang asked me as we walked down a path that led us to the Quarters of the Pure Lotus, the residences for the Four Ladies. Behind us, my four maids Chunlu, Xiayu, Qiushuang, and Dongxue followed.
It was a pleasant day. The wind blew on my face without its usual sharpness, and the sun had a warm touch.
“I haven’t seen her for many days. I heard she is sick again,” I said. I had brought gifts for the Pure Lady, some precious ginseng roots and other herbs that were said to warm a woman’s blood. I also wanted to talk to her about the Empress’s new rule that our children must visit the heir every day. We must do something to stop the Empress from torturing our children. The Pure Lady would agree with me, I believed, since we were on the same side. “I heard Sujie is sick too.” He had not come to wish the heir good morning for at least ten days.
“Sujie is sick?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “He composed a ballad before he was sick. Have you heard it, Gaoyang?”
I sang:
“Once there was a young fellow,
Lean as a lynx, swift like a swallow.
He drinks the jade liquid and dines on the emerald grapes,
He struts in his golden robes and sleeps in his damask capes.
In awe, people watch and gape
At his vermilion hat and exquisite shape,
But beneath all, everyone knows he is only an ordinary ape.”
It was clear to whom Sujie was referring, and I wanted to smile. I was sure the Empress would have another outburst if she heard it.
“Oh, that little imp!” Gaoyang said fondly. “I love that ballad. I laughed out loud when Apricot told me. ‘An ordinary ape.’ Is there any ape that’s not ordinary? I think he’s being rather kind to Zhong, actually. Speaking of your maids, how is Apricot doing?”
Gaoyang walked like a child, skipping and twirling along the zigzagging path, unable to stand still. I had long ago abandoned the thought of reminding her to walk like a lady. Princess Gaoyang simply could not be tamed, for better or worse.
“Apricot?” When Apricot first came to serve me, she had been young and bashful, but over the past two years, she had grown more confident. She brought news from the eunuchs and gathered messages from around the palace for me, and I had grown fond of her. She was also wonderful with Lion. “She’s trustworthy. Why did you ask?”
“I saw her with the Secretary. They were in a corridor near the Chengxiang Hall.”
I frowned. The man with a fat, round face like a butcher? He had resumed his position. He usually worked in a building near the Taiji Hall in the Outer Palace, but the Empress often summoned him to the Inner Court, so he had many chances to encounter Apricot. “What were they doing?”
Gaoyang shrugged.
I waved my hand. Apricot would not betray me. “She’s trustworthy,” I said again.
“Of course she is. I have no doubt about that.”
I nodded. Through the thinning autumn foliage, I could see the corners of the flying eaves and the red wall of the Quarters of the Pure Lotus. “Have you met the Pure Lady, Gaoyang?”
“I saw her during the Empress’s adoption ceremony, but I never spoke to her. I don’t know her very well.”
I patted the wig on my head, my fingers touching the gold hairpin on the side, and I arranged the strands of black hair in front of my chest and let it fall near my waist. “You’ll like her. She has a mathematical mind; she is good at using the abacus and adding numbers and subtracting them. Very rare for her age.”
Soon, we arrived at the Quarters. The moment I entered the compound, old memories rushed to me. The beautiful but conniving Jewel. The benevolent Noble Lady. The other vengeful Pure Lady who plotted to overthrow Emperor Taizong. The obsessive Lady Virtue who would not part with her mirror, and the great dancer, Lady Obedience. Now the former three were dead, and the latter two were imprisoned in the Yeting Court.
I shook off the memories and stepped into the courtyard. Everything looked the same—the small mountain—a replica of the sacred Mount Hua—the pond, and even the birdcage under the eaves of the house where Jewel had lived. It was still there but empty. Gone was Jewel’s yellow oriole.
Several maids dashed away to notify their ladies of visitors, and soon a woman rushed out of the chamber on my left. “Luminous Lady!”
I could not tell which lady she was until I saw her puffy eyes. Then the other two ladies, the Noble Lady and Lady Obedience, appeared behind her.
“Ladies.” I bowed to each one.
“I am most pleased to see you here, Luminous Lady. What a surprise. Would you like to have some chrysanthemum tea with us?” the Noble Lady said, dismissing the maids who gathered to greet us.
“I would be honored,” I said. “Perhaps another day? I came to visit the Pure Lady. I hope she won’t be surprised. I did not give her notice. Which house is hers, may I ask?”
The Noble Lady nodded to the house on my right. “But, Luminous Lady,” she said, her pretty eyes blinking quickly. She looked uneasy. “I wish to tell you something important. I think something might have happened…”
The Pure Lady lived in Jewel’s old house. The door was shut, and no maids came out to greet me. I was surprised. As a second-degree Lady, she ought to have had eight maids. I walked up the stone staircase to the Lady’s chamber. “Come, Noble Lady. We shall visit her together. What do you think has happened?”
Princess Gaoyang had already pushed the door open, and I stopped at the threshold. A screen stood in the center of the chamber. Near it were two stools with fur cushions and a table that held a black lacquered jewelry box, a dozen small powder boxes, and a bronze mirror. In the right corner of the chamber stood a tripod brazier, which was covered with a thin layer of dust, as if it had not been lit for some time. The room was cold and empty; the Pure Lady and Sujie were nowhere to be seen. “Where is the Pure Lady?”
Lady Obedience, who talked with her hand over her mouth, whispered into the Noble Lady’s ear, and the lady coughed, her pretty eyes lowering. “Luminous Lady, that is what I wished to speak to you about. The Pure Lady has been missing for a few days.”
“Missing?” I frowned. Princess Gaoyang went behind the screen to check the bed. When she came back, she shook her head. The Pure Lady was not in her room.
“She was sick. Then she went out for a stroll near the lake and disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” I stared at her in disbelief. “Did something happen to her?”
She hesitated. “That’s what we thought.”
“Have you searched the area near the lake?”
> “We have, Luminous Lady.” The Noble Lady squeezed closer to the other two Ladies, grasping their hands.
“And you didn’t find her? Where is Sujie?”
“He is gone too.”
“Sujie is gone?” I was shocked. “Not sick? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We must find them!”
The Noble Lady hesitated. “We told the Empress, Luminous Lady, since she is the head of the Inner Court. She said…”
An ominous feeling seized me. “What did she say?”
“She said she would find them, and she warned us not to mention this to anyone: you, the Emperor, or the Pure Lady’s family. We dared not disobey her, but it has been nine days since they disappeared.”
The room felt stuffy, choking me. I stepped out into the corridor. Somehow it was colder on this side of the courtyard. The sun was weak, printing streaks of timid rays on the replica mountain’s jagged surface. It was the late autumn, but there had been no snow yet.
I went to sit on a stone bench. Did the Empress have something to do with the Pure Lady’s and her son’s disappearances? Could it be possible the Empress resented the Lady for taking over the duty in the Imperial Silkworm Workshops and she wanted to punish her and her son? “Do you know anything about Sujie’s ballad, Noble Lady?” I asked.
“Yes, Luminous Lady. The maids were talking about it days before the Pure Lady’s disappearance, and the Empress…she forbade us mentioning it. She said if she heard anyone repeat it, she would throw them in a dungeon filled with snakes.”
“I see.” I cringed at the cruelty in her words. “I’m grateful you told me, Noble Lady. I understand this is an important matter, and for your safety, I promise I will not mention anything you told me today—”
“She’s taken them,” Gaoyang said, interrupting me. “She hates the Pure Lady, so she decides to punish her and Sujie.”
“We should go back to my garden now, Gaoyang.” I gave her a stare to silence her and then bid the Ladies my leave.
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