Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 85: Noble Consort Farewell, My Lord

   Hearing these words, Gao Ningxiang’s face lit up with undisguised joy. Gao Ningxiu was a little better at controlling herself. Though she felt the same delight inside, she could still restrain it, keeping a worried expression on her face:

“Your Ladyship Noble Consort, none of this is urgent right now. The most important thing is for you to recover your health.”

Noble Consort Hui smiled and raised her wine cup:

“This is lotus-flower wine, brewed with care during midsummer. Fresh lotus stamens were picked, steeped in water from the Jade Spring, and meticulously fermented. My two little sisters—please have a taste.”

Having received her favors, how could the two of them dare refuse her toast? They both raised their cups and drank. Even Gao Ningxiu, who was never good at drinking, downed it in one gulp, then coughed twice and said, “Your Ladyship Noble Consort, the fine wine in this palace really is pure and mellow, with a deep and lingering aftertaste.”

Noble Consort Hui glanced at her. “Third Sister, I have always treated you both with cold indifference. Do you not resent me for it?”

Gao Ningxiu replied, “Father once said that no matter how much discord there may be between us sisters, we are still one family — when one prospers, all prosper; when one suffers, all suffer. Your Ladyship Noble Consort once misunderstood us and created a rift, but now haven’t you come to see things clearly?”

Noble Consort Hui gave a half-smile that was not quite a smile. “Yes, I understand all too clearly now! In the Tang Dynasty, when Empress Wu Zetian was young, she was bullied by her half-brothers. Once she gained power, she demoted and killed those two brothers! Lady Qi tormented me and my brother, and when Grandfather discovered it, she expelled them from the Gao family. Then when your mother, Lady Ma, entered the household, she secretly continued the bullying! My long years of infertility were all because Lady Ma forced me, in the depths of winter, to pray in the snow during the twelfth month. My elder brother married a shrewish wife and suffered setbacks in his official career — that too was Lady Ma’s interference! And the two of you — so young, yet you already knew how to falsely accuse your elder siblings, vie for favor, and frame us. Have you forgotten all of that?”

The two sisters’ faces changed color at once. Gao Ningxiang was just about to speak when suddenly — “wah” — she vomited a large mouthful of black blood.

“Sister, what’s wrong with you?” Gao Ningxiu cried out in shock. She reached out to support her, but suddenly felt a sweetness in her own throat. A thread of fresh blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. She wiped it with her hand, looked down at her sister now collapsed and rolling on the floor, then whipped her head toward Noble Consort Hui. “It was you! You poisoned the wine! Why? We are your own blood sisters!”

Noble Consort Hui threw her head back and laughed loudly. The bright moon-shaped earrings on her ears swayed with her laughter. “That old bastard Gao Bin — I stopped caring about him long ago! But if the two of you were to rise in power, my brother would suffer the same calamity as Lady Wu did! To protect him — to protect the only blood relative I has left in this world — I gave up my chance at revenge and left my final days to you two. Isn’t that touching? Hahahahaha!”

Gao Ningxiang had drunk the most. Besides the cup Noble Consort Hui personally toasted her with, she had poured and downed several more cups herself afterward. The poison therefore struck her the hardest. She writhed in agony on the floor for several turns, then her head lolled to one side, eyes wide open in death. Gao Ningxiu pressed one hand to her twisting, cramping stomach and used the other to support herself against the table as she rose.

“Save… save me… Mother!” Gao Ningxiu staggered a few steps toward the door. Before she could escape, she vomited another great mouthful of blood that sprayed across the carved wooden door like a red peony suddenly bursting into bloom.

In the outer hall, Lady Ma was drinking tea. Suddenly she set down her cup. “What was that sound?”

Zhilan calmly placed a plate of snacks before her. “It must be Niangniang talking with the two young misses.”

Perhaps it was the bond between mother and children — Lady Ma clutched her chest, feeling her heart pounding violently. Unable to sit still any longer, she stood up. “I’m going to take a look.”

Ignoring Zhilan’s attempts to stop her, she rushed straight to the bedchamber and pushed open the carved door. When she saw the scene inside, she let out a heart-rending, soul-tearing scream: “Aaaah——”

Two women who had just moments ago been vibrant and beautiful now lay collapsed in pools of blood, one to the left and one to the right — no breath left in them, like two flowers that had helplessly fallen from the branch.

Noble Consort Hui sat behind them, slowly twirling the wine cup in her hand. She gave Lady Ma a sweet, gentle smile.

“You actually killed your own younger sisters!” Lady Ma threw herself forward. “You vile woman! How can there be someone as wicked as you in this world? Give me back my daughters!”

“Seize her!” Zhilan shouted from behind.

The palace servants of Changchun Palace immediately rushed out and dragged her away. All the way, Lady Ma struggled and screamed curses: “You will descend into the eighteenth layer of hell! Heaven will never forgive you!”

“Niangniang…” After the door was closed, Zhilan approached Noble Consort Hui.

Noble Consort Hui drained the last of the wine in her cup in one swallow. “Is everything prepared?”

Zhilan lifted a jade tray on which lay a length of snow-white silk cord.

Casually tossing the cup behind her, Noble Consort Hui stood up, gazed at the beam overhead, and gave a free and easy smile. She sang in the theatrical style of an opera:

“Alas, enough, enough… This pear tree is where I, Yang Yuhuan, shall bear my final fruit. I, Yang Yuhuan, kowtow in gratitude for the Emperor’s grace. From this day forth, we shall never meet again!”

Tears streamed down Zhilan’s face. “Niangniang!”

Noble Consort Hui took up the white silk, raised her hand, and flung it — like an actor on stage casting a long flowing water sleeve. In a drawn-out, melodious voice she sang:

“My Saintly Majesty… my one life shall end beneath the Yellow Springs, yet my spirit shall forever follow beneath your yellow dragon banner…”

The white silk flew over the beam. Noble Consort Hui slowly tied it into a noose, stepped onto a chair, slipped the slender noose around her long, graceful neck, closed her eyes, and smiled:

“Flowers in profusion, lush and radiant beauty of face. Clouds recall garments gleaming bright. Who else dons new makeup like this — alas, the tender, languid Flying Swallow. A famous flower, a national beauty, smiling gently, ever receiving the Emperor’s gaze. In the spring breeze she dispels the spring sorrow; together we lean on the balustrade this Gao Ningxier … Your Majesty, farewell.”

With a kick, the chair toppled sideways.

Zhilan closed her eyes and bowed deeply to her.

“Your Majesty.”

The doors of the Yangxin Hall opened, and Li Yu walked in from outside.

Hongli was holding his brush and writing, but he was not reviewing memorials—instead, he was copying the Heart Sutra for someone.

“Your Majesty.” Li Yu bowed to him. “Noble Consort Hui has passed away!”

The brush tip paused, and a large blot of ink spread across the paper. Hongli remained silent for a long while before slowly speaking: “Issue an edict: Noble Consort Hui was born into a distinguished family, assisted in governing the inner palace, was filial and virtuous by nature, gentle and respectful in conduct. She is hereby posthumously promoted to Imperial Noble Consort to commend her virtuous character. The funeral rites for Imperial Noble Consort shall be jointly handled by the Ministry of Rites, the Ministry of Works, and the Imperial Household Department.”

Li Yu: “Yes, Your Majesty!”

Hongli: “Everyone, leave.”

All the eunuchs withdrew.

Hongli set down his brush and slowly leaned back in his chair. The room was deathly quiet, yet in his ears drifted the distant, enchanting sound of opera singing.

“Flowers in profusion, luxuriant and gorgeous, recalling her countenance. Clouds recall her radiant robes, dazzling and bright. Who could rival her fresh makeup? Alas, the delicate and languid Flying Swallow. A famous flower of national beauty, smiling gently, always receiving the emperor’s gaze. To the spring breeze she explains away spring sorrow, leaning together on the railing of the Agarwood Pavilion.” The song was tender and poignant, as though a pair of hands were embracing him from behind, softly and affectionately saying, “Your Majesty, you’ve come…”

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