Finally, Minister Li ordered a younger man to fetch the scrolls from a shelf and spread one before me. I read carefully, although I had read the scrolls countless times when I was a child. As usual, I found the sentences filled with confounding mystery, especially the story of Zhuang Tzu’s “The Butterfly Dream.” It said one day a man named Zhou dreamed he had turned into a butterfly, and when he awoke, remembering the image of the butterfly so vividly, he asked himself, “Was it a man named Zhou dreaming of a butterfly? Or was it a butterfly dreaming of a man called Zhou?”
This story was only helpless musing that produced nothing useful, yet the Taoists treasured it. I could say it was the essence of Taoism: it was fond of spinning a conundrum that led to no clarification or enlightenment. What was the use of philosophy if it failed to unmask mysteries that offered solace to a wounded soul? Life was complicated enough, and Taoism, rather than provide a vision and an inspirational destination, took pleasure in muddling people’s minds, firing up a pot of doubt and skepticism, and obscuring the picture of possible happiness that should be the ultimate reward.
I read the stories anyway, and when the other ministers were no longer paying attention to me, I said casually to Minister Xu, “Minister Xu, what is your interpretation of Lao Tzu’s words?”
“Luminous Lady, I regret to tell you I have better things to do than read Lao Tzu’s words.” He stood beside me, his hands crossed behind his back.
“Why?” I was surprised and interested. “You do not like his philosophical inspirations?”
“Not at all,” he said. “Yin and yang, light and darkness, five elements, five directions, and the truth of Dao, they are all good if they make sense.”
I wanted to smile. “Well, Minister Xu, if they don’t make sense to you, then what is your philosophy in life?”
“To live in glory, Luminous Lady.” He watched me intently. “What is yours?”
Minister Li Yifu was frowning at us. It was time to stop. I rose. But before I turned to leave, I answered the minister, “Patience, Minister Xu, patience.”
When I left the library, I took a deep breath. It was a good trip, after all. But I could not smile yet, for I had not felt like smiling since Gaoyang’s death, but perhaps, I would have the pleasure of feeling joy very soon.
AD 654
The Fifth Year of Emperor Gaozong’s Reign of Eternal Glory
AUTUMN
25
Pheasant looked lonely, sitting on the bench facing the pond. The light from the bonfire lit up the front of his robe, where the embroidered dragon seemed ready to take off and soar, but the night stood at his back, leaving its possessive, dark fingers on his hair and shoulders.
I put a fur cape on his shoulders. “It’s cold here.”
He was drinking again, and empty jugs of wine stood beside his feet like dwarf soldiers without a conviction.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t bother me.”
I sat down beside him. There was no moon tonight, and the sky was shrouded by layers of clouds. The pavilion was barely visible, and the trees blended into the darkness, forming a thick, inky wall.
Pheasant was frustrated. I could feel the defeat, and his deep hurt spread around him like a sticky cobweb.
For months, in an attempt to clear his brother’s name, Pheasant had searched for the witnesses of the conversation that had brought doom to Prince Ke. Pheasant finally located them and summoned them for an investigation. But the process had been fruitless. One moment the witnesses argued they had heard no seditious talk of the prince, and the next they would weep and say they could not remember anything.
“Did you play polo today?” I asked him, pulling my fur cape around me.
“No.”
“What about archery? I bet your skills have become even more improved.”
He snorted, waving his hand.
I waited for a moment. “I heard the imperial stables received some fine horses.”
He did not speak.
I sighed. “Well, it’s late. Are you tired? Perhaps you should go to bed, Pheasant.”
“You go to bed. I won’t stay here for long.” He took a swig of his wine.
I nodded, but I did not rise.
“I heard you went to the imperial library again today.”
I believed everyone in the palace should have learned I had gone to the library by now, and of course that evil Empress would be the first to know. But she had not attempted to imprison me or whip me. Perhaps she was sure all my efforts would be fruitless; perhaps she was simply watching.
“I did.” I waited for him to ask more questions, but he did not. So I added, “I talked to your former tutor again. He is an interesting man. He’s a Buddhist, do you know that? Minister Li Yifu was there, of course, and many others.”
“If you wish to read, you may order the scrolls to be brought to you.”
I shook my head. “I wish to make myself visible among the ministers, Pheasant. That’s why I went there, so they would know me better. You never know. We may need them someday.”
“It’s useless. It can’t be helped.” Pheasant waved his hand.
“I know it’s a long-term goal, but—”
“Can’t you see? Nothing is going to make a difference. The Regent supports her. He protects her. There is nothing we can do to get rid of her.”
I was silent.
“She can’t be touched, and whatever she wants to do, he will do it for her. Whoever comes to us will be cut down; whoever is close to us will be executed. He killed my brother and my sister! He’s ruthless. No matter how many ministers you win over, he will execute them all. You can’t fight a cruel man with words!”
His voice was loud. I cringed, turning my head toward the bedchamber. He was going to wake up Hong and Oriole.
“As long as she lives in the palace, as long as she is the Empress, nothing you do will help. So don’t bother, Mei. Don’t bother.” He put his hands on his knees, gritting his teeth. “Nothing we do can change it. Nothing. Nothing.”
I felt his pain. It had to be distressing and hurtful for him to go to the hall each day, watching the Empress’s men laugh and the Regent give orders. “You’re not alone, Pheasant. You have the General.”
He did not speak for a moment, staring at the fire. “I will say it now, Mei. If I did not have the General’s support, my uncle would have deposed me.”
I swallowed with some difficulty. The statement was frightening, but perhaps Pheasant was speaking the truth. The Regent could do that easily, since he had control of almost everyone in the court, including the heir.
“You know that, of course; everybody knows that. But I didn’t know. I didn’t.” Pheasant’s voice was sad. “Until now.”
I could not bear to see him like this. “He cannot depose you, Pheasant,” I said firmly. “The General follows your orders. He is on your side. Whatever you tell him to do, he will do it. He put his sword in front of you, remember? You refused. He would give his life to you if you wished. He’s loyal to you, not the Regent.”
Pheasant turned to me, and I reached for him. “Now tell me, did anything happen today in the Audience Hall? What made you say that? What made you so angry?”
Pheasant looked away. “The Regent instructed me not to attend to the audiences from now on. There is no need, he said. His men would take care of all matters. But I am the Emperor! I! What am I if I am not allowed to attend the audiences?”
I frowned, anger rising in my chest. “What did you say to him?”
“Nothing. What could I say?” He laughed bitterly. “I’m a weak man. I’m a coward. I’m useless! I should have refused. I should have told him to go home instead.” He swallowed more wine. “But I asked him to restore Prince Ke’s name. He was the son of a Lady! You know what my uncle told me? He told me to forget about my brother, that I must summon more maidens. He said
I need to pay more attention to my domestic affairs so I can have more sons and daughters like my father.” His voice was louder, and his anger was stretching long and dangerous, like the tongues of the fire.
I bit my lips, staring at the bonfire. I wanted to shout too. The Regent was too greedy. What would he do next if Pheasant refused? Dethrone him by force?
“He is always telling me of the obligation as a son. You know what? He can’t fool me now. They’re all lies. He was using me so he could have the kingdom in his hands. And he always uses my father to tame me, always admonishing me. ‘A good emperor listens to his counsel,’ so he says. ‘Remember your father’s words!’ Of course I remember my father’s words!”
I remembered too the words by the late emperor:
With bronze as a mirror, one can correct one’s appearance;
with history as a mirror, one can understand the rise and fall of a kingdom;
with honest men as a mirror, one can distinguish right from wrong.
Pheasant laughed. “But my father made a good show, that’s all. He stitched up an astrologer’s lips! No one said anything about that, did they? A show of humility. A show of kindness.” He shook his head. “He wasn’t a kind man, Mei. My mother knew it, my older brother knew it too, and I knew it. But I never said it. Now I’m saying it.”
The memories flooded back to me. How the late emperor butchered his brothers and his nephews and nieces and forced his father to abdicate. How he kept Jewel for himself and then brutally discarded her. I shook my head. “You’re different, Pheasant. You’re not like him.”
“You’re right. I am not.”
I put my hand on his. He felt hard as stone, but hot, as though the fire were burning on his skin. “You are a good man, Pheasant.”
“That’s the problem.”
For the first time, I could see how Pheasant saw himself: he was a man with a good heart, and that was his strength and his weakness. “Let’s go to bed. You’re tired.”
“You go. Oriole is crying.”
I heard her soft whining too, followed by Hong’s grunts, but I could not leave Pheasant alone. I sat back. “Apricot will get her. I’ll sit with you. Can I have some wine?”
He handed me the jug. “I was twenty-two when I became Emperor, Mei, and the kingdom has been mine for six years now, but I’m telling you, I can’t say I am an emperor.”
I drank some wine. It tasted bitter, like Pheasant’s words, like the air, like everything around me.
“But I don’t want to live like a useless emperor anymore. I’m going to change that. My brother will not have died in vain.” He took a deep breath. “I’m going to the hall tomorrow, whether he likes it or not. I’m going to do what I want.” He raised his fist at the bonfire. “He’s not going to stop me. No one is going to stop me.”
Surprised, I turned to him. “What are you going to do?”
“I want her to be gone. I want the Regent to be gone too, and all his men, gone.” Pheasant’s eyes glittered like the tips of twin blades, blades that were forged in pain and whetted by the fire of determination. “I’m going to be a true emperor. I’m going to take back my hall.”
“But how? You need supporters.”
He gave me a crooked smile. “No. I don’t. Now finish up your wine, Mei. Then we’ll go to bed.” He stood up. “Come to the Audience Hall with me tomorrow, and wait for me in the antechamber.”
“Why?”
He walked toward the bedchamber. “Just come.”
26
The next morning I left my children to Apricot and went to the Audience Hall with only two maids in attendance. I did not know what Pheasant would do, but since he asked me to come, I would be there for him. The antechamber was quiet when I stepped in, and all of Pheasant’s personal attendants were sleeping in the corner. I did not disturb them. Quietly, I went to sit on a painted stool and watched the hall from behind a screen.
It was Pheasant’s kingdom all right, but it was the Regent’s hall.
All the Empress’s men were there—her uncle, the Chancellor, the Regent, his two brothers-in-law, and many other ministers. They lined up on the two sides of the hall, each holding an ivory tablet that inscribed their positions. In the center of the hall, on a raised dais, the Regent sat on a golden stool, and next to him was Pheasant on his throne.
The ministers all addressed the Regent. “Esteemed Regent, this” and “Esteemed Regent, that.” Anger brewed in my stomach as I listened. But I remained still as they came forward to give their reports. One announced the taxes they had received this month. Another minister reminded the Regent that the current land distribution according to the Equal Land System had reached the three-year expiration, and it was time to redistribute the land again. Then another minister stated that counterfeited coppers were now out of control, and they were inundating the market.
No one turned his head to Pheasant, and he had no chance to question or investigate before the Regent put forth his opinion.
Pheasant looked sick sitting there. His face was pallid, his mortarboard askew. The pearl curtain draped in front of his face, shielding his eyes, but I could tell he was suffering from a headache because of the wine last night.
I frowned. How was Pheasant planning to drive away the Regent and his men? How did he plan to take over the hall?
I hoped the audience would end quickly. I needed to return to my garden soon to feed my Oriole. I was nursing, and my breasts would become engorged if Oriole did not suckle after a few hours.
The General’s large figure appeared in the corridor, his long shadow reaching the foot of my stool. He paused in my direction, his eyes briefly resting on my face, and continued to patrol.
“Esteemed Regent,” the Secretary, the man who molested my maid, said. I sat up stiffly as I saw his fat, round face oily with grease. “It is my pleasure to inform you that our Crown Prince has shown superb judgment and wisdom in administering state matters. Since his eleventh birthday is approaching, I recommend an opportunity for the Crown Prince to learn more administrative skills by attending the audiences from now on.”
“Ah, has our heir expressed such a desire?” the Regent asked. He was sitting on the left side of Pheasant, and I could not see his face.
“He has, esteemed Regent. Our heir is most eager to learn.”
“Then we shall be delighted to have his presence.”
The heir was young, and according to the protocol, he would not need to attend the audience until he was fourteen. The ministers were already planning on replacing Pheasant. I bit my lip in anger.
“May I add, esteemed Regent, our Empress, may her virtue be praised, has also planned a grand occasion to celebrate the heir’s birthday. A boat race is arranged, where all the ranked ministers can sit and have a feast. This will be a perfect moment to introduce our Crown Prince to the kingdom.” The Chancellor smacked his lips in satisfaction.
“I concur,” the Empress’s uncle said. “Furthermore, after a careful review of a list of families with daughters at the age of betrothal, the Empress has made a decision. She wishes to inform our esteemed Regent that our Chancellor, who happens to have a granddaughter with extraordinary beauty, has agreed to—”
“Wait.” Pheasant put up his hand.
I leaned over and watched intently. I prayed Pheasant would be careful.
There was a moment of silence in the hall.
“Nephew,” the Regent said. “These are the matters of the state—”
“Where is the Empress?” Pheasant asked. “Is she in her chamber? I need to speak to her about a most important matter. Summon her over to the Audience Hall.”
No one answered.
“She won’t come? Well then. I shall announce it myself.” He turned around to face the ministers again, a jug of wine in his hand. Was he inviting a torrent of accusations? Drinking in the Audience Hall was the
utmost disrespect to the court.
But what he did next astonished me more.
He burped. Loudly.
The Secretary’s eyes bulged, and the Chancellor gasped, his face red.
“The Emperor is drunk. Take him away. He needs rest.” The Regent waved his hand.
“No one moves! That is an order,” Pheasant shouted.
“Your Majesty!” The Chancellor’s loud voice rose like thunder. “This is the Audience Hall, may I remind you. And the esteemed Regent has spoken—”
“I have spoken! I! The Emperor!”
“Nephew.” The Regent’s voice was dark and filled with warning. “If you have something to say, now is your moment.”
“Well, Uncle, this is so kind of you. Indeed, so very kind of you! I shall be eternally grateful that you give me this permission. Well then, I shall speak now. Regent, ministers, all the men who offer your services to this great kingdom, I would like to inform you that I have made a decision. As of today, Empress Wang, the daughter of the Wang Family, is no longer the Empress of our kingdom. I am divorcing her.”
A thick, uncomfortable silence descended in the hall.
I froze. That was it? He just announced it? This was too risky! Dethroning the Empress was not merely a matter of words. He should have thought more carefully. He should have planned better!
“I shall order a written statement to be drafted after the audience. All the proper procedures of divorce shall follow, and the divorce will be formalized. Tomorrow, all the people in the kingdom will know of the news, and Lady Wang will leave the palace and go home. Go on. Tell your family—”
“Your Majesty!” The Chancellor’s voice rang out. “The Empress is the most virtuous, most judicious woman of the kingdom. She is the mother of the Crown Prince, mother of the kingdom. You can’t divorce her.”
Empress of Bright Moon Page 24