Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 105: Happy News

   The next day, Ming Yu was ordered to clean the eastern side hall.

The moment she stepped inside, she saw Hupo hurrying out carrying an armful of bedding, her eyes darting away, her expression panicked.

“What are you doing?” Ming Yu called out to stop her, suspicious. “Sneaking around like a thief?”

Hupo hugged the bedding even tighter, lowered her head, and said, “His Majesty was drunk last night and vomited everywhere. Chief Steward Li ordered this servant to clean it up quickly!”

“Is that so?” Ming Yu’s gaze swept over the bundle in Hupo’s arms. Suddenly her brows furrowed. A corner of bright red peeked out from the bedding—like a woman’s embroidered undergarment. The silk fabric showed, at the edge, the faint outline of a lotus petal.

A fleeting glimpse—she thought it was her own eyes playing tricks. Before Ming Yu could get a clear look, a voice suddenly called out from behind her.

“Ming Yu!” Erqing’s hand landed on her shoulder. Without waiting for a response, she turned Ming Yu around and said with a beaming smile, “Ming Yu, I’m leaving the palace today. I came especially to bid you farewell.”

Ming Yu was stunned. “So suddenly?”

“Fuheng has already returned to the capital. It would be inconvenient for me to remain in the palace any longer.” Erqing sighed. “While I’m gone, I’ll have to rely on you to take care of the Empress.”

Ming Yu pursed her lips. “You don’t need to tell me—I’ll take good care of Her Majesty anyway.”

Erqing smiled without saying more. After chatting idly with her for a few moments, she turned and left.

Once she was gone, Ming Yu turned back around—but where Amber had been standing moments ago, there was now no trace of her.

Heavy-hearted, Ming Yu made her way to the tea room. This matter wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t trivial either. If she had to find someone to discuss it with, after thinking it over, only one person was truly reliable.

“Yingluo!”

The flames licked at the medicine pot. Wei Yingluo sat to one side fanning it. The air was thick with the strong smell of herbs. Without turning her head, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

Ming Yu hesitated for a long time before finally stammering, “Last night… His Majesty rested in the eastern side hall. It seems he favored a palace maid.”

The fanning motion stopped abruptly.

The Empress had only just given birth, and he was already favoring a maid from Changchun Palace? Couldn’t he have chosen a different time, a different place?

Just when she had begun to think slightly better of Hongli, her opinion sank even lower again. Wei Yingluo gripped the fan handle tightly, her face expressionless as she said, “This is Changchun Palace. If His Majesty took a liking to a palace maid, why didn’t he inform Her Majesty? Even if what you said is true, if that maid was favored, shouldn’t she have come today to request a title or reward?”

Ming Yu was taken aback, then let out a small laugh. “You’re right… but… never mind. Maybe I really was seeing things!”

The two of them exchanged a knowing look and tacitly decided to keep the matter hidden.

The Empress had already suffered enough. There was no need to add to her troubles at a time like this. As for this disloyal, backstabbing palace maid… if Ming Yu had been mistaken, that would be best. If not, the two of them would drag her out and teach her what she could and could not do.

The atmosphere grew somewhat heavy. After a moment, Wei Yingluo spoke up. “By the way, I just heard from Her Majesty that His Majesty has already given the Seventh Prince a name.”

“Oh?” Ming Yu’s attention was immediately diverted. “What name?”

“Yongcong.”

Yongcong… Yongcong… Ming Yu repeated the name to herself over and over. Suddenly she jumped up in excitement. “Aiya! Do you know what ‘cong’ means?”

Of course Wei Yingluo knew, but she still smiled and shook her head, giving her friend the chance to explain.

“‘Cong’ refers to the ritual vessel used in ancestral temples and the imperial court!” Ming Yu gestured animatedly. “You can see that His Majesty intends for the Seventh Prince to inherit—”

“Calamity comes from the mouth.” Wei Yingluo raised her hand, placing the palm-leaf fan right in front of Ming Yu’s big mouth.

Ming Yu snatched the fan from her hand. While fanning her, she stubbornly continued, “It’s true! The ‘rong’ in the Sixth Prince’s name refers to the sound of jade pendants clinking together. But our Seventh Prince is named after a sacred vessel of the ancestral temple—how can you not see which one carries more weight? It’s obvious!”

Yingluo gave her a glare. “Yes, yes, I’m busy brewing medicine here. Go show off somewhere else!”

Ming Yu had wanted to share her joy with her, but seeing her so uncooperative, she couldn’t help feeling a little angry. Pouting, she said, “Why aren’t you happy at all?”

“What’s there to be happy about?” Wei Yingluo said listlessly. “Her Majesty nearly died from hemorrhaging to give birth to the Seventh Prince. Even the imperial physicians said it would shorten her lifespan…”

Ming Yu looked at her strangely. “But for any consort or concubine, having children is the only way to stand firm! Not just in the harem—even ordinary women in the world are the same!”

“If one loses their life, what use is there in having boundless power and wealth?” Wei Yingluo said gravely.

“B-but… Her Majesty doesn’t care about power or status. She was already completely satisfied the moment she had the Seventh Prince!” Though Ming Yu was still arguing, her momentum had weakened considerably.

“Women are human beings too. No matter the circumstances, one’s own life is always the most important.” Wei Yingluo smiled. “Niangniang is blessed with great fortune and a strong fate—she pulled through. But if she hadn’t, leaving behind a child without a mother, could that child possibly live well in the Forbidden City? Those who throw away their lives for the sake of giving birth are fools.”

The joyful news was not limited to Changchun Palace.

   Several months later, at the Fucha residence.

   “Mother.” Fuheng stepped into the main hall. “What is it? Why did you urgently summon me back?”

Because the Empress had been bedridden with prolonged illness, Lady Fucha had cried until she went blind in one eye. Though she applied medicine daily, she could still only vaguely make out blurry silhouettes. She reached out toward the shadow opposite her: “Fuheng, my son, such tremendous good news—you’ll surely be overjoyed when you hear it.”

Fuheng quickly stepped forward and took her hand. “What good news?”

There had been far more bad news than good lately; it had been a long time since Lady Fucha had smiled so happily. “Your wife is finally with child!”

All the color drained from Fuheng’s face in an instant.

Lady Fucha’s eyesight was poor and she did not notice his abnormality. Still holding his hand, she continued warmly: “With the Empress now recovered and the Seventh Prince deeply favored by His Majesty, your mother no longer worries about anything else—only about you. Now I can finally set my heart at ease. Erqing truly is our family’s great blessing! You must take good care of her and never neglect her!”

“…Yes.” Fuheng gritted his teeth, his eyes filled with deep loathing and disgust.

After leaving the main hall, Fuheng did not pause for a moment. He rushed straight into Erqing’s bedroom. The sunlight was just right; Erqing leaned against the carved window, embroidering. Her needle flew deftly, and a pair of twin lotus blossoms was gradually taking shape on the embroidery frame. Suddenly a hand reached from the side, seized the hand holding the needle, and yanked her up from the chair.

What met her eyes was Fuheng’s face, contorted with uncontrollable fury. He said in a low, heavy voice: “Whose child is this?”

Erqing began to laugh, her tone as coy and playful as that of newlyweds teasing each other: “Guess.”

Fuheng had no patience for her games. He gripped her wrist so tightly it creaked. “I’m asking you one more time. Whose child is this?”

Her wrist throbbed with sharp pain, yet Erqing only laughed more merrily. “Everyone says Fucha Fuheng is brilliant beyond compare, ruthless in his methods, and that despite his young age he has already entered the Grand Council and become one of the Emperor’s most trusted ministers, with limitless prospects ahead. I say that’s all nonsense—if even his own wife is pregnant and he doesn’t know by whom, what kind of genius is that!”

“You—!” Fuheng trembled with rage.

Erqing flung his hand away with complete indifference. “You can dote on a maidservant—can’t I find comfort elsewhere?”

She suddenly fell silent.

There was a sharp metallic clang. Fuheng drew the long sword from the wall. The swords in his room were not mere decorations; even if they had been, in the hands of a warrior like him they were deadly weapons in every sense.

Erqing watched him warily. “What are you going to do?”

“The Fucha family has maintained a spotless reputation for a hundred years. My mother has placed all her hopes in this—none of it can be destroyed because of you.” Fuheng’s eyes were bloodshot. He tossed the long sword at her feet. “I do not kill women. Do it yourself.”

The sword clattered to the floor with a clear, ringing sound.

Erqing glanced at the sword on the ground. The cinnabar-red lips painted on her mouth curved upward.

“So even the most tolerant man cannot tolerate his wife straying outside the wall! Unfortunately for you, you cannot kill me, and I certainly will not kill myself—because…” Her embroidered shoe stepped onto the blade of the sword. Erqing advanced toward Fuheng step by step, her eyes brimming with mockery and triumph. “This child bears the surname Aisin Gioro!”

Fuheng froze on the spot.

Erqing refused to let him off. She continued: “Listen carefully. What I carry is dragon seed—the bloodline of the Son of Heaven. If you dare lay a single finger on me, calamity will descend upon you in an instant!”

“No!” Fuheng shook his head, his face ashen. “The Emperor is not the kind of man who would violate a minister’s wife!”

“The Emperor would not—but I would!” Erqing shattered his last hope with cruel laughter. “To find the right opportunity, I went to great lengths!”

Finally, Fuheng could bear it no longer. He seized her by the throat, gnashing his teeth as he snarled: “Why did you scheme against the Emperor? Why would you do this to the Fucha family!”

“Ahem!” Erqing coughed once, then looked straight at him without the slightest fear. She burst into loud laughter. “Lord Fucha Fuheng, in everyone’s eyes you are the elegant and dashing young gentleman, the ideal husband every woman in the world dreams of—even the remarkable Wei Yingluo was utterly bewitched by you! But I want you to endure humiliation, to suffer torment. Every time you kneel before the throne, you will remember this. Every time you receive a promotion, you will have to wonder whether you traded your wife for that official hat and peacock feather! You hate me, yet you cannot kill me. You loathe this child, yet you must raise him for the rest of your life! Hahahaha! How funny—how utterly hilarious! I really thought about this plan for a very long time. Isn’t it especially amusing?”

Watching Erqing laugh like a madwoman, Lord Fuheng slowly loosened his grip on her. He took a step back, putting distance between them, and said with eyes full of revulsion: “You are not only vicious—you are insane!”

The word “vicious” ignited the bitterness and rage buried deep in Erqing’s heart, setting her insides ablaze. Like someone truly driven mad, she lunged at him: “Yes, I am insane—driven insane by you and Wei Yingluo together! Lord Fucha Fuheng, this is the price you must pay for humiliating me. For the rest of your life, you will never be able to escape me—Xitara Erqing!”

Lord Fuheng shoved her away and stared at her for a long time with an utterly unfamiliar gaze—as though he were seeing her for the first time, or as though he had never truly known her at all.

“Lord Fuheng, where are you going?” Erqing called after him once she had steadied herself.

The door creaked open. Lord Fuheng ignored her, rushing out without looking back.

“Why are you running away? Are you afraid? Come back! Come back and look at me—look at your child! Hahahahaha!!” Behind him, Erqing laughed until she was gasping for breath, and finally broke into sobs.

After crying for a while, she raised a hand to wipe away her tears. Since no one cared for her, no one loved her, no one would wipe her tears for her—why should she keep crying?

“I lived six years in the palace bowing and scraping, enduring for six years, hoping for six years—hoping that in the end I would have a gentle and virtuous husband and a bright future ahead. Instead, I ended up with a cold bed and a solitary shadow. Why should I be the only one to bear such pain?” Erqing stared in the direction Lord Fuheng had gone. The cold tears dried on her face as she slowly smiled. “Lord Fucha Fuheng, your suffering has only just begun.”

STORY OF YANXI PALACE CHAPTERS HOME