Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 61: The Fairy

The fireworks blazed brilliantly. To celebrate Hongli’s full recovery, the palace servants had been given special leniency—allowed to come out at night to watch the fireworks and share in the joy with the Emperor.

But now the fireworks had already ended—why were they still running around outside?

“What are you doing? What are you doing?” Li Yu stood protectively in front of the imperial palanquin, berating the group of palace maids and eunuchs who had nearly collided with it. “Do any of you still understand the rules? Do you know where you are, running around like this!”

Earlier it had been too dark, and everyone was only carrying one lantern each—like fireflies, they had chased after that tiny point of light in clusters. Only now did they clearly see what—and whom—they had almost crashed into. One by one their faces turned deathly pale and they dropped to their knees, crying out “This humble servant deserves to die!”

“Ask them what happened,” Hongli said lazily from inside the palanquin, one hand propping up his head. “Why are they all running toward Changchun Palace?”

“Speak!” Li Yu screeched. “What exactly is going on?”

The group exchanged glances. Finally one palace maid gathered her courage and answered:

“Chief Steward Li, we heard that when the fireworks bloomed, a star fell onto Changchun Palace. Now everyone in the palace has gone to see the immortal fairy!”

Li Yu burst out laughing. “You would believe such nonsense—utterly muddled! I think it’s not an immortal descending to earth, but rather all of you who are blind and foolish!”

“Li Yu,” Hongli suddenly said. “Change course to Changchun Palace.”

“Ah?” Li Yu was stunned for a moment, then immediately turned and ordered the attending palace servants: “Did you hear? Change course! To Changchun Palace!”

With that command, the imperial palanquin—which had originally been heading toward Yangxin Hall to spend the night with Lady Shu—immediately changed direction and set off toward Changchun Palace.

Lightly tapping his fingers on the armrest, Hongli wasn’t quite sure what this feeling was—whether it was a sudden whim or something that had sunk deep into his heart long ago. But when they spoke the word “fairy,” for some reason the vivid scarlet figure from the celebration banquet appeared in his mind’s eye, and with it came the poem that begins “Suddenly looking back”.

The night was already deep, yet the lamps in Changchun Palace were still brightly lit, illuminating the entire palace as if it were broad daylight.

Faintly, the sound of silk strings and bamboo pipes drifted over.

Unlike the grand and imposing Western orchestra at the banquet, this carried a quiet, secluded charm—as though it were inviting him, and him alone, to come and listen.

“Stop.” Hongli called out. “I will go in alone.”

The imperial palanquin halted. With Li Yu’s assistance, Hongli stepped down. Then, alone, he walked into Changchun Palace. Even the Son of Heaven, the lord of all under Heaven, could not be without attendants in the depths of the inner palace—but since he had spoken, Li Yu and the others could only withdraw to a distance, following quietly from afar.

In the courtyard, white lanterns hung from the trees.

Like tiny pure-white moons suspended on the ever-blooming osmanthus branches.

An immortal maiden was dancing beneath the moonlight.

At first glance, Hongli thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. It was clearly the painting of the Luo River Goddess that the Empress had once presented to him—the goddess in the scroll had stepped out of the painting, her wide sleeves fluttering gracefully, her Wu-style sash dancing in the air.

On closer look, it was no goddess at all—it was the Empress dressed as the Luo River Goddess.

As Empress, Lady Fucha was the model of maternal virtue, flawless in every way. But as a woman, she was perhaps a little lacking in allure. Few men could feel desire for a statue of a Bodhisattva in a temple; between the sheets, they usually preferred beauties like Noble Consort Hui—well-proportioned in flesh and bone, charming and delectable.

Now, clad in the attire of the Luo River Goddess, the Empress seemed to have shed something heavy. All the overly solemn layers were carried away by the wind, leaving behind only graceful charm, free and unrestrained elegance.

“Dancing with the clear moon-shadow—how could it compare to being in the mortal world?”

   She danced and sang. Suddenly a strong gust of wind rose, sending her ribbons swirling. It was as though the immortals in the heavens were also watching this dance, admiring this beauty—and loving her so much that they wished to summon her up to the moon palace to keep company with Chang’e, where one would sing and the other dance forever, her beauty never fading, immortal through the ages.

All at once, a hand reached out from the side and rather forcefully pulled her toward him.

“Your Majesty!” The Empress looked at him in surprise, a faint blush of embarrassment flashing across her face. She made to curtsy. “This subject-wife has behaved improperly—please forgive me, Your Majesty!”

The palace maids who had been playing flutes and accompanying her on instruments hurriedly set down their music and knelt in unison:

“Slaves respectfully greet Your Majesty and wish You peace and health!”

For the moment, Hongli’s eyes held no one else—only the moon-palace immortal before him. His gaze burned as he looked at the Empress and smiled:

“Empress, you need not worry. Tonight your dance will not be spoken of outside these walls.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” The Empress shyly tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “It was this subject-wife’s momentary impulse; I did not think it through properly and nearly made a fool of myself!”

When one likes a person, even her smallest gesture seems adorable. Hongli was in precisely that state right now. He personally reached out to tidy the slightly disheveled hair at her temple and said gently with a smile:

“I have never seen you; Empress dressed like this before. Truly it makes you appear otherworldly, pure and strikingly beautiful—completely different from usual.”

The Empress’s face flushed even deeper. She and Hongli had always conducted themselves with perfect mutual respect, the very model of an imperial couple—more like family than lovers. Such sweet, honeyed words she had only ever heard in dreams; never had he spoken them to her face.

Seeing this rare girlish shyness from her, Hongli felt an even warmer surge in his chest. Taking her hand, he led her toward the bedchamber, laughing softly:

“Come, come—the wind is strong out here. Empress, follow me inside. Dance for me… dance just for me alone…”

What happened afterward was something everyone understood without needing to be told.

Only then did the palace maids left behind in the courtyard rise, still clutching their instruments. From left to right stood Wei Yingluo, Ming Yu, Erqing, Zhenzhu…

“Tonight the Emperor will almost certainly stay in Changchun Palace,” Ming Yu said with a fierce little smile. “That Noble Lady Shu tried to trip us up—so we’ll cut her off at the pass. Let her wait alone in her chamber in Yangxin Hall until daybreak!”

“Sister Yingluo, you predicted everything perfectly,” Zhenzhu said, looking at Wei Yingluo with even greater admiration. “When the Emperor heard the rumor that there was a fairy in Changchun Palace, he really couldn’t resist his curiosity and came to see for himself. Once he saw her, he didn’t leave.”

Wei Yingluo smiled, showing no trace of pride or arrogance. She simply cast a gentle glance in the direction of the sleeping chambers — as if the Empress’s wish fulfilled was also her own wish fulfilled.

“It’s been a long day. Everyone must be tired. Go back and rest,” Wei Yingluo said to the group. “I’ll step out for a moment. Eunuch Li is still waiting outside for news.”

After she left, Zhenzhu kept praising her nonstop.

“Speaking of which, this success owes a lot to the dress Yingluo gave to Her Majesty the Empress,” Zhenzhu said, getting a little too excited and chattering on without pause. “It looked exactly like the Goddess Luo gown in the painting, and when the Empress wore it, it fit her perfectly — not a single inch off, clinging to her body like it was made for her…”

“So that dress must have been started at least half a month ago, maybe even a full month earlier,” Erqing’s voice suddenly cut in. Gazing in the direction Wei Yingluo had gone, she said with a complicated look in her eyes, “Do you think she just came up with the idea on a whim? You’re wrong. She prepared for today long in advance.”

Ming Yu and Zhenzhu were stunned. After a long pause, Ming Yu stammered, “So what you’re saying is… she had already planned to help Her Majesty steal him away?”

Erqing let out a soft laugh. “You silly girl. Yingluo wanted to help Her Majesty keep the Emperor here so she could give birth to a legitimate son as soon as possible! Whether it was cutting off Noble Lady Shu or Noble Consort Hui, it didn’t matter — but Noble Lady Shu was acting far too arrogantly and happened to run straight into her line of fire. That’s why she will end up with tonight’s fruitless all-night wait.”

In the side chamber of Yangxin Hall, the red candles had burned for half the night and finally guttered out.

Naran Chuxue lay wrapped in a red brocade quilt, feeling as though the cotton bedding beneath her was sucking her blood dry. Her blood had run out; her body shivered with wave after wave of cold.

“Noble Lady,” a eunuch’s voice sounded as the door opened. “It’s time. We should return.”

He waited for a long moment, but no sound came from inside. Unable to do anything else, the eunuch repeated what he had just said.

“No.” Finally, a hoarse voice rose from within the room. Naran Chuxue stared at the pitch-black ceiling and murmured, “I’m not going back. I’m going to wait here. The Emperor will come.”

Until dawn broke, the Emperor did not come.

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