Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 112: The Step Empress

An unoccupied house grows old; an untrodden path becomes overgrown with weeds.

How much time had really passed? Already wild grass had sprouted in the flower beds of Changchun Palace.

Hongli stood amid the flower bed. The weeds grew thick and lush; a gust of wind came and bent them low.

“I know that you and Rongyin were husband and wife from the beginning. Her departure must have left you heartbroken and sorrowful,” the Empress Dowager said as she approached, trying to comfort him. “But it has been so long already. You should let it go.”

Let it go?

   Hongli lowered his head to look at the jasmine flowers at his feet. As long as a single jasmine bloom remained in this world, he would never be able to forget that jasmine-pure and graceful person.

“The Empress is the head of the Six Palaces. The position cannot remain vacant forever. Sooner or later you must establish a new empress,” the Empress Dowager continued to persuade him gently in his ear. “Among the women of the inner palace, though Noble Consort Xian has no children, she possesses the highest prestige and seniority. If you are to name a new empress, she is the only suitable choice.”

“Empress Dowager, you are right,” Hongli sighed. “It is only that I feel…”

He only felt that he had let her down…

   “Emperor,” the Empress Dowager understood this better than anyone, yet she refused to indulge or spoil him. Half admonishing and half stern, she said, “All the regrets of the past are already behind us. It is better to cherish the person before your eyes!”

Hongli gazed at the white blossoms scattered among the weeds. After a long silence, he let out a desolate sigh.

Three days later, in the Chengqian Hall.

   “The Nala clan was granted to me by my Imperial Father as a side consort. She has conducted herself with virtue and prudence, is well-versed in rites and teachings, and fully embodies the dignified and benevolent instructions of the Empress Dowager, making her truly fit to serve as mother and model to all under Heaven. Now that the auspicious time has arrived, it is appropriate to install her in the central palace. Therefore, in obedience to the Empress Dowager, I hereby confer the title of Empress upon Noble Consort Nala of the side rank…”

After seeing off the eunuch who delivered the decree, Zhener returned to the sleeping chamber in high spirits. The moment she pushed open the door, she froze.

Noble Consort Xian had already changed into the empress’s ceremonial robes on her own. She stood before the mirror, speaking to her reflection: “You have finally become the Empress.”

Such a wonderful thing—yet not the slightest trace of joy could be seen on her face.

“Mother,” Noble Consort Xian murmured, gently stroking the mirror with one hand. “Your Shushen is no longer that weak and incompetent daughter of the past. I have become the Empress, head of the Six Palaces, mother and model to the realm! From now on, you will never have to live hand-to-mouth again, never have to endure others’ mockery. I have brought honor to our family. I have not failed your expectations…”

As she spoke, tears began to roll down her cheeks.

“…Why aren’t you here?” Noble Consort Xian choked. “Why won’t you come see this ceremonial robe with your own eyes? Why… won’t you come praise me, hold me… Mother… Mother…”

She covered her face with one hand. Slowly her knees buckled and she knelt before the mirror. Tears slipped through the gaps between her fingers and fell to the floor.

Zhener sighed softly in her heart. She quietly closed the door, then stood guard outside, preventing anyone from entering, ensuring no one would see or hear this most vulnerable moment of Noble Consort Xian.

State affairs and family matters—establishing an empress was a great matter of state; sending troops to war was a great matter of the family.

   “Let me die! Just let me die!”

The Fucha residence was thrown into utter chaos. Erqing’s hair was disheveled, a dagger clutched in her hand as she brandished it, pretending she was about to take her own life.

A group of servants surrounded her, all coaxing and persuading. Du Juan was so anxious she was drenched in sweat. When she saw Fuheng enter, she hurriedly rushed over and said, “Young Master, you’ve finally come! When Young Madam heard you were going to Jinchuan, she panicked. She said that rather than watch you go off to die, she’d rather die herself. Please, hurry and talk her out of it!”

Fuheng’s gaze swept over Erqing. He said indifferently, “Why aren’t you doing it yet?”

Erqing had only been putting on an act—how could she possibly really die? Now caught in an awkward position with no way out, she simply threw the dagger down and cried, “Fucha Fuheng, going on campaign to Jinchuan is such a huge matter, and I, your wife, was the last one to know… Yet you still tell me to die. Do you even have any humanity?”

With the husband and wife at odds, the servants below also found themselves in a difficult position. Du Juan quietly advised, “Young Master, please have some sympathy for Madam. She really is worried about you…”

“Worried about me?” Fuheng laughed. “No. She’s afraid that if I die on the battlefield, she’ll become a widow, and all the fame, status, and privileges she enjoys now will instantly turn to smoke and clouds.”

Erqing stared in disbelief. “What did you say?!”

Fuheng’s expression remained calm. “What? Am I wrong?”

Having her true thoughts exposed, Erqing flew into a humiliated rage. She raised the dagger and lunged toward him. “Then I’ll simply cut off your hand—let’s see how you go to the battlefield to die!”

She was nothing more than a pampered lady of wealth and leisure—how could she possibly be a match for Fuheng? With a light sweep of his hand, Erqing cried out in pain and the dagger flew from her grasp.

He kicked the dagger into the corner with one foot, then coldly ordered everyone, “Erqing stays. Everyone else—get out!”

His authority was formidable. Du Juan bent down to pick up the dagger from the floor and, together with the other servants, withdrew from the room.

“Xitara Erqing.” With no one else around, Fuheng’s voice sank, no longer hiding anything. “I’ve allowed you to live not because there is dragon seed in your belly, but because I once felt guilt toward you! But no amount of guilt can withstand the way you keep wearing me down. Listen well: starting today, you will stay obediently inside this building. If you dare take even one step outside—”

“What will you do?” Erqing glared at him.

Fuheng’s tone was sparse and ordinary, yet the words that came out sent a chill down Erqing’s spine: “Step out with your left leg, and I’ll cut off your left leg. Step out with your right leg, and I’ll cut off your right leg.”

Erqing stared at him for a long time, finally realizing that he meant every word…

A faint trace of regret rose in her heart—not regret for having schemed against Hongli back then, but regret that she hadn’t framed the entire matter on Hongli instead. She should have insisted, sworn that Hongli had lusted after her beauty and forced himself on her…

After all, a loyal subject like Fuheng would never dare question the Emperor about such a thing. The truth would still be whatever she claimed it to be.

Now that the deed was done and irreversible, Erqing, filled with regret, could only sob and wail, “It takes two hands to clap. A child isn’t something I could conceive alone. You only know how to bully me—why don’t I see you go confront the Emperor?”

Fuheng shook his head. “I served as His Majesty’s study companion for ten years. I know his character a hundred times better than you do. Even if you were as beautiful as a celestial fairy, once you and I had bowed to heaven and earth and entered the doors of the Fucha family, he would never touch a single finger of yours. How this child came to be—you don’t need to say it; I can already guess. You had better pray that I return safely. If I don’t come back…”

Erqing’s heart suddenly pounded like a drum. “…Then what?”

Fuheng gave her a faint smile. There was neither guilt nor reluctance in that smile: “The nunnery outside the capital—that will be your home for the rest of your life!”

With that, he left the still-cursing Erqing behind and walked away without looking back.

The Jinchuan campaign had dragged on for a long time. The previous commander, Neqin, had already been escorted back to the capital in chains. Because of his cowardice and fear of battle, which led to heavy losses of soldiers and officers, Hongli had stripped him of his official hat and peacock feather.

Fuheng was now taking over his post… but no one in the court or among the people considered this a good assignment. On the contrary, everyone regarded it as a hot potato no one wanted to touch.

Even the members of the Fucha family felt the same. As soon as he returned home, his wife, his parents, relatives, and friends all came to the door one after another to him, hoping he would give up this commission. Even if it meant incurring Hongli’s anger, it would still be better than being wrapped in a horse’s hide and dying on the frontier.

Even the young maid who served him, Qinglian, set down the tea tray gently when bringing him tea and said worriedly, “Young Master, are you really going to Jinchuan? This servant has heard that the army has suffered heavy losses and no one in the court dares to take command. If you go now, how dangerous it will be…”

The assignment had already been issued, yet Fuheng did not slack off for a moment. After court, instead of joining his colleagues for pleasure on a flower boat, he returned home, took a military book from the shelf, and began reading. When he heard Qinglian’s words, he set the book down and asked, “Qinglian, did Old Madam send you?”

Qinglian was startled and quickly lowered her head. “I’m sorry, Young Master, this servant spoke out of turn. But Old Madam is so worried she has fallen ill. She said that if you refuse to give up this post, she will never see you again…”

“Afraid of battle, terrified of death, shrinking back and refusing to advance—what’s the point of studying military books then? What’s the point of becoming an officer?” Fuheng sighed. “If the old madam asks again, just tell her this: Fuheng has gone to do what he truly wants to do. Please ask her to forgive me.”

“On the battlefield the swords and sabers have no eyes. What if… doesn’t the young master have anyone in his heart that he cares about?” Qinglian saw his expression change and hurriedly lowered her head. “It was this servant’s fault. This servant spoke wrongly…”

Those words seemed to strike a chord deep in Fuheng’s heart. He gripped the military book tightly, standing motionless in front of the bookshelf like a handsome statue. After a long while, he suddenly tossed the book aside. “I’m going out for a bit.”

“Young Master!” Qinglian called after him. “It’s almost dark—where are you going?!”

A single rider galloped away in a cloud of dust, charging out of the Fuheng residence.

Fame and honor are seized on horseback. Fuheng’s horsemanship was outstanding; he spurred the horse into a full gallop. Passersby only felt a gust of wind roar past, and when they turned to look, they saw nothing but rising dust in the air.

“Whoa!” Fuheng suddenly reined in hard. The horse reared, hooves pawing the air, before stamping back down.

Inside the Yuanming Garden, a group of palace servants were carrying out the final sweeping and cleaning.

“Hm?” Wei Yingluo, broom in hand, turned around. “Strange, I thought I just heard hoofbeats.”

The shadow of a tree swayed. A hand parted the thick green foliage, reaching toward her.

“You’ve stood too long in the sun—you’re hallucinating.” A hand suddenly landed on Wei Yingluo’s shoulder. Yuan Chunwang leaned half his body against hers, speaking lazily. “Quick, I’m about to collapse. Take me back and pour some water over my head.”

“Hey, hold on a little longer!” Wei Yingluo instantly forgot about the hoofbeats. She half-supported, half-dragged him away.

Behind them came a soft sigh.

“What’s the use of telling her these things now?” Fuheng slowly withdrew his hand and murmured to himself. “Wait until I come back alive…”

A general may die in a hundred battles; a brave man returns after ten years. Since he could not promise her a date of return, why make her wait in vain? Better to go alone.

“Ride!”

The sound of hooves rang out again, carrying the words he could not say aloud, carrying a general’s resolve to face death, and departed from the Yuanming Garden.

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