Forest of a Thousand Lanterns

by Julie C. Dao

  Kang gave her an inscrutable smile. “What makes you think that even if I don’t wish to sleep with you, I don’t want something else?”

  With his dry, enigmatic humor, she was hard-pressed to say whether that had been a joke.

  When Xifeng was young, she had imagined that each day in the Imperial Palace would be special and significant. But she found that time passed just as it had in her town. She had a routine she was expected to follow, one that included plenty of sewing, and she was treated with as much contempt and disapproval as she had known from Guma. The only difference was she slept in a clean, soft bed every night and wore fresh, dry clothes.

  Always, she kept her eyes open for signs of the Fool. But she hadn’t seen the concubines or the Empress since she had first arrived, and the other women left her alone for the most part.

  The morning gong woke her on the first day of her second week. Dandan and Mei, the two girls who shared her chamber, were already up and washing their faces.

  “Good morning,” Xifeng said, but they only blinked at her in silence. She sighed. It had been like this all last week. “You don’t need to be afraid of me, you know.”

  She ran a brush through her hair, almost missing Ning’s endless chatter in the mornings. Perhaps Dandan and Mei had been instructed not to talk to her. Only the gods knew what dire warning Madam Hong might have fed them.

  “Hateful old crow,” she muttered.

  But maybe it was better this way, staying isolated from the others. She needed her wits about her, what with her servitude to Lady Sun looming ahead. She remembered the woman’s cruel, catlike smile when she had needled Lady Meng about her lowly origins. If the best punishment Madam Hong and Master Yu could find was for Xifeng to serve this favorite concubine of the Emperor, they had a reason for it, and she had to stay alert.

  The building where the Empress and consorts lived connected to a gate in the wall lining the city of women. The Empress occupied the top two levels, and Lady Sun had the entire level underneath. Xifeng found the concubine’s quarters sumptuously decorated in brushed satin and scarlet brocade. A eunuch directed her through a labyrinth of curtained recesses and corridors until she came to the immense bathing chamber.

  Lady Sun glanced lazily up at her from a gilded tub covering almost the entire room. It had been filled to the brim with searing hot water, which was hidden under a sea of crimson rose petals, their perfume heady in the whorls of steam that rose up to the porcelain-tiled ceiling. Elaborate folding screens did nothing to conceal the woman’s nakedness. She didn’t bother covering her breasts as she stretched a languorous arm on either side of her.

  “Come closer,” she cooed. “Don’t be bashful, young one. I won’t bite you.”

  Xifeng approached with caution, as she would a tigress. Everything about the scene felt purposefully arranged to increase her discomfort, as with Madam Hong.

  Lady Sun’s hair had been swept into a beautiful knot that shone alternately jet-black and russet in the light. Her slanting, heavy-lidded eyes took Xifeng in from head to toe. “I must say,” she said, slender fingers dangling in the water, “I was pleasantly surprised when Madam Hong suggested you assist me. I was hoping I’d get to know you better. Xifeng, wasn’t it?”

  Xifeng remained silent, all her nerves on edge. What sort of game was this? She had seen this woman shamelessly taunt another in the presence of the Empress herself. She kept her eyes on the rose petals, which were like a sea of living blood lapping at Lady Sun’s alabaster skin.

  The concubine arched her back luxuriously, like a wildcat preening. Her heavy breasts bobbed in the water. “Come talk to me,” she said, stroking the rim of the tub as though it were a man’s bare chest. “Take that stool there and have a persimmon, if you care for them.”

  Xifeng obeyed, but didn’t touch the food: tofu fried in chili sauce, green vegetables in a simmering broth, and the persimmons, fragrant in a bowl of cut glass. She hadn’t expected the concubines to eat what she did, but still, the extravagant amount of food surprised her.

  “I wasn’t alone,” Lady Sun drawled, guessing her thoughts. “The Emperor was with me. I give him quite an appetite in the mornings. But I shouldn’t speak of such things to an innocent maiden. You are a maiden, aren’t you? You haven’t left some heartsick peasant man behind on that dreary farm, or wherever it was that you came from?”

  “No, my lady.”

  The woman examined her through the slitted eyes of a predator. “I notice you and Kang have become fast friends. Interesting how he kept to himself until you arrived and suddenly he can’t stay away. How men do enjoy a beautiful face, even if they can’t do anything about it anymore.” She gave a throaty laugh. “A word of advice, my dear. Don’t trust any of the eunuchs—especially Kang. No one knows where he came from, you see, and you can’t be sure of an ending unless you know the beginning. Don’t you think?”

  The cryptic words were meant to confuse and intimidate, Xifeng knew. It was all part of Lady Sun’s little game. “I’m aware I must be cautious with my friendships.”

  “Are you?” Lady Sun’s languid voice filled with delight, as though Xifeng were a monkey that had done something extraordinary. “How clever of you. All the eunuchs are the same, anyhow. They’re men without the danger, but they still want a woman to serve them. I wouldn’t wish that upon you.” She leaned her head against a silk pillow and closed her eyes.

  Xifeng watched her with mingled scorn and envy, feeling certain she herself was lovelier. Yet Lady Sun had brought an emperor to his knees. She commanded him the way he commanded armies; she could make him fall at her feet with that supple body and those bewitching eyes.

  Guma had taught Xifeng that such women harbored powerful essences, charged with frenetic vitality and potential. She had spoken of them like rabbits—easily captured and killed, their precious lifeblood ready to turn into formidable strength in the drinker’s system. And though she had found the speech terrifying, Xifeng couldn’t help picturing the glorious, burning heart beneath Lady Sun’s ample pearl-white breasts. A twinge of hunger rippled through her.

  “You’re an advocate of women, my lady,” she said quickly, to distract herself.

  Lady Sun’s eyes opened. “Naturally. You may have noticed I am a woman. Your welfare is my own, I assure you. But I must be boring you with my talk. Let me show you how you can help me.” Before Xifeng could offer to bring her a robe, she rose from the tub and stood dripping before her, wearing nothing but the rose petals that clung to her skin. Whereas Empress Lihua was thin and frail, the concubine had a healthy, full-figured body. “Come with me.” She strolled to a set of doors at the rear of the chamber, leaving a trail of wet footprints behind her.

  Xifeng noted the eunuch guards maintained stony expressions, their eyes fixed on the wall, no doubt through long practice. They had probably remained as stationary when the Emperor had been there frolicking in the tub with her.

  Lady Sun strolled through the corridors, paying no heed to the flustered maids who stopped in their tracks to bow. An army of them was parading to the bath chamber, probably to clean up the mess of rose petals. “This is who I wanted to introduce you to. Come closer.”

  Xifeng followed her through a heavily curtained doorway into a room lit by ornate lanterns. There were no windows; instead, a hundred bronze mirrors lined the walls, dimly reflecting the opulent silk floor coverings, the dark rosewood furnishings, and the magnificent carved oak bed that stood in the center of the chamber.

  The woman bent to pick something up, admiring her own plump, well-fed form in the mirror as she did so. She turned, and Xifeng saw a scrawny mass of grayish hair quivering against her wet breasts: a hideous little dog. It wore a scrap of carmine silk tied around its neck.

  “This is Shenshi, my second son.” Lady Sun laughed and kissed the top of its scruffy head, eyes on the mirror as she tilted her hips to get the best vantage point of h
er buttocks. “He was a birthday gift from the Emperor. Isn’t he the sweetest thing? Would you like to hold him?”

  Xifeng decidedly would not, but the woman dumped the animal in her arms anyway. She stood holding the trembling mass as far from herself as possible while Lady Sun preened before the mirrors and ran a hand down her pillowy stomach. The dog smelled like it had been rolling in its own filth. A slick brown stain appeared on Xifeng’s sleeve, confirming her suspicion.

  “I forgot to mention, Shenshi is a bit ill.” Lady Sun draped a robe of transparent tangerine satin around her shoulders and flung herself on the bed, dangling her bare legs off the side as she watched Xifeng. “Your task is to care for him while I find another maid to do so. The one I had . . . didn’t suit. You’re such a dear to help me.” A sly smile crossed her face, one that promised this was only the beginning of the fun.

  They both knew there was no one Xifeng could go to—not Madam Hong or Master Yu, who had sent her here, and certainly not the Empress.

  No, I’ll deal with this myself.

  Xifeng looked down at the detestable rodent of a dog. “It’s my honor, Lady Sun. I hope to serve you in the manner you deserve.”

  The concubine’s face froze. “You’re a treasure,” she breathed, and on her lips it was a threat. “You can start by cleaning this room. Shenshi has left a few messes in here, and we can’t have the Emperor seeing that when he returns tonight. Find me on the balcony when you’re done.” She rose, her open robe concealing nothing as she brushed carelessly past Xifeng.

  Xifeng dropped the animal, which scurried after its mistress, leaving more foul-smelling streaks in its wake. “A few messes,” as Lady Sun put it, turned out to be the dog’s droppings and puddles of vomit smeared across the floor. What had she been feeding the stupid thing?

  “A bucket of water and some rags,” Xifeng snapped to a eunuch outside the door. “Now.”

  She wished Guma could see her scrubbing the floor like a servant. Would she advise her to fight back or keep her head down? She almost, almost considered lighting the incense to find out and to feel closer to Guma.

  “A brilliant destiny, indeed,” she seethed.

  As she worked, she imagined a whole series of violent deaths for Lady Sun: boiling alive in the gold tub, which had been filled with cooking oil instead of water, or bleeding out from a shard of one of these mirrors impaled in her perfect white stomach. The vain tart.

  Xifeng caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. It was this perfect face that threatened them all so—those wide bright eyes and full plum lips—and what they saw behind it: the gleam of the blade and the lethal sharp edge, together in one. That was what they hated; that was what they sought to stamp out of her. But no matter how much Lady Sun hoped to degrade her, she would not succumb; she would not be defeated or intimidated.

  She slithered closer to the mirror, the bronze lanterns casting patterns over her body like scales. A shadow like a bruise hovered over the cheek she had healed with lifeblood.

  “Careful not to cut yourself when you play with a sword,” she hissed.

  Her reflection bared its fangs in a smile of grotesque promise.

  • • •

  Lady Sun sat on her balcony, her robe still wide open and legs propped on the railing. A maid sat beside her, applying something to her face. The horrid beast, Shenshi, curled around her chair and bared yellow teeth at Xifeng when she approached.

  “Finished already?” When the woman turned, Xifeng saw the maid had been caking what appeared to be mud on her face. She looked ridiculous, like something that had crawled out of a swamp. Despite the literal dirt on her forehead, she still managed to look contemptuously at the dog shit on Xifeng’s clothes. “I’ll have to find something more challenging to give you next.”

  Xifeng smiled gently as she imagined choking her with that mud, spooning thick globs of it down her throat to block the air. She felt a tremulous laugh of pleasure deep inside her.

  “Go away,” Lady Sun told the maid. “Why don’t you finish the job, Xifeng?”

  “With pleasure.” Xifeng picked up the brush the maid had been using and swirled it distastefully in the porcelain bowl. From its smell and texture, it was mud.

  “A treatment I learned when I first came to the palace,” Lady Sun said smugly. “Fresh mud mixed with a few ingredients from the Imperial physician’s stores. It smooths and beautifies the skin and keeps me young for His Majesty. You’ll understand one day, when you become a wife like me.” She laughed, as though she couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to marry Xifeng.

  “You mean a concubine, my lady?” Xifeng slashed the brush across the woman’s face. “Empress Lihua is the Emperor’s wife.”

  Lady Sun’s mud-caked face stilled. “It is I he visits at night. I have given him three children, whereas she has given him none,” she said in a low voice. “Those three sons from her first husband are nearly all grown. What use is she if she can only give him a Crown Prince not of his blood? He has a son of his blood, my son.”

  “Yes, my lady. You must be proud the Emperor has chosen to include him in the line of succession. Behind his three stepsons, of course, who are the children of his Empress.” She enjoyed the way the woman’s mouth twisted in anger. Here was a crack in Lady Sun’s seemingly perfect veneer: the knowledge that even as the Emperor’s favorite, she—and by extension, her son—would only ever be second to Her Majesty and the princes.

  “I am proud I have more to offer him than another man’s children,” said the concubine. “Perhaps one day he’ll realize that.”

  Xifeng placidly continued daubing mud while her mind raced. It was clear Lady Sun wanted His Majesty to put the Empress and Crown Prince aside in favor of her and her son. But how much of it was blind hope? Hideki had said Emperor Jun was a distant cousin of the Empress and had only married into the throne. He owed his crown to his dragon-born wife; putting both her and his heir aside would surely mean a revolt he couldn’t afford to risk.

  And it occurred suddenly to Xifeng that she shared something with Lady Sun. The concubine, too, wanted what fate had dictated for Xifeng: she wanted to be Empress of Feng Lu. Was Xifeng sitting in the presence of the Fool, the enemy of whom the cards had spoken? It took all of her effort to continue calmly stirring the mud as the creature moved inside her, sharpening her growing panic.

  Our list of enemies grows with each passing hour, the voice whispered from within. They seek our destruction. They would see us cast down.

  Xifeng darted a quick glance at Lady Sun, though it was impossible that she could have heard it speak, too. Still, the concubine was staring right at her, head tilted shrewdly, and Xifeng’s hand gave an involuntary jerk. A few drops of mud splattered the table.

  Lady Sun encircled her wrist with one hand. She was surprisingly strong for a pampered, spoiled woman. “I know what you’re thinking. That because my wealthy father gave me to His Majesty, and because I’ve only ever lived in luxury, that life has been kind and easy.”

  “I wouldn’t presume to think of you at all, my lady.”

  “Life is difficult when you’re born a woman in this world,” the concubine murmured. “You’ve entered a game you can’t win. Men make the rules and we are left to be used by them or claw our way to whatever scraps they’ve left behind. Do you think my father gave me to the Emperor because he loved me? Did he care when he tore me from my mother’s arms? He thrust me into this pit of scorpions to be stung and forgotten.”

  She released Xifeng’s arm and reached for a cloth, wiping the mud off. Slowly, her creamy skin emerged, like a pearl revealed in the dirt.

  “But I had this.” She touched her face. “This is how a woman plays the game. It makes men weak and forget they make the rules. She becomes the player and they the pawns.”

  Xifeng swirled the brush in the bowl of mud, listening in spite of herself. There was truth in these words—s
he recalled the panic she’d felt upon seeing her damaged cheek.

  “That is why, my little flower, I must keep you close. To protect you.”

  Or to make sure I don’t snatch your pathetic victory from your fingertips. Stupid woman, confessing her deepest weaknesses. If she chose to underestimate Xifeng’s strength, as Master Yu had, she would be making a grave misstep.

  “You speak wisely, my lady,” Xifeng said, though she raged inside at the powerful essence Guma would say resided in this woman. What a shame it couldn’t be put to use by someone who deserved it. She shuddered, but from horror or anticipation, she didn’t know.

  “Are you cold, young one?” Lady Sun asked, her eyes glinting at the tremor.

  Xifeng shook her head. Let the woman believe she was afraid. “Not at all. Is there anything else I might do for you today?”

  Challenge issued.

  The concubine gave her a slow, feral smile. “Oh, I’m sure I can find something for you.”

  Challenge accepted.

  The cool spring thawed into a warm, wet summer, and one morning, Xifeng woke to find sheets of rain cascading down. Today marked one month since she had begun slaving for Lady Sun, though the concubine had promised to find a replacement by now. Clearly, it was to be torture and degradation: cleaning up after her repellent dog, scrubbing her chamber pot, and personally hand-washing her undergarments after her moon’s bleeding.

  Xifeng swung her feet to the floor. Not showing up would be admitting defeat, and she would not give Lady Sun that satisfaction. If the concubine was the Fool, Xifeng had to avoid showing weakness in any form. She needed to stay strong and alert, and formulate her plan of attack. She drew a hand across her cheek, reassuring herself of its perfection, and stood up.

  “Good morning,” a small voice said, and Xifeng glanced at Dandan and Mei in shock. It was unclear which of them had spoken, for both were red as poppies.

  “Good morning,” she returned, not daring to say more for fear of spooking them.