Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 107: New Year’s Eve

   New Year’s Eve had arrived.

Not only were the common people hanging lanterns and decorating everywhere, but the palace was equally lively.

Lanterns hung from the treetops—some were plump red paper lanterns, others were hexagonal palace lanterns painted with scenes of talented scholars and beautiful ladies. When the firecrackers began to crackle, several palace maids and eunuchs set down the lanterns they were carrying and covered their ears in unison.

Yongcong, held in the Empress’s arms, imitated them, pressing his chubby little hands over his own ears. The Empress looked at him fondly and said to Wei Yingluo beside her, “Yingluo, have the New Year’s eve meal portions and the reward money for the palace staff this year been distributed?”

“Yes. When this servant went to inquire, Noble Consort Xian had already arranged everything early this morning. Everyone in the palace received their share. Because the Imperial Household Department had especially good revenue this year, the amounts are a full ten percent more generous than in previous years. Everyone is delighted.” Yingluo looked at her, feeling very happy herself.

The things she had once worried about had not come to pass. After giving birth, the Empress’s body had not grown weaker as feared. On the contrary, perhaps because of Yongcong’s companionship, her complexion had grown better and better. Lately she had even started to put on a little weight—her cheeks were gradually becoming fuller and rounder.

Compared to the frail, sickly beauty of a Xishi-like Empress, Wei Yingluo thought a slightly plump Empress looked far more beautiful.

All of this was thanks to Yongcong. Wei Yingluo’s gaze softened. She was just about to tease the little boy in the Empress’s arms when a eunuch suddenly approached from outside. After bowing, he said, “Your Majesty, a message has come from the Wei family. Yingluo’s father has suffered a serious injury from a fall from his horse. They beg Your Majesty’s grace to permit her to return home to visit him.”

Wei Yingluo’s face froze.

The Empress nodded. “Yingluo, take my hand token and leave the palace at once.”

“No.” Wei Yingluo’s voice was stiff. “I’m not going.”

The Empress was taken aback. “What are you doing now?”

Wei Yingluo gritted her teeth. “For the sake of a mere minor steward position, he was willing to use his own daughter as a bargaining chip. A father like that—I don’t need him!”

“Don’t speak nonsense! Filial piety is greater than heaven. If you do not go today, people will surely criticize you in the future. How could you stand firm in the palace then?” The Empress shook her head, refusing to let her bear any stain on this matter. She immediately decided for her: “Listen to me. Leave at once.”

Wei Yingluo had no choice but to reluctantly agree with a “Yes.”

Only then did the Empress smile. She spoke gently to her, “Go. I’ll wait for you to come back.”

Wei Yingluo left the palace with many reluctant glances over her shoulder. After delivering the message, the eunuch also left the palace—but instead of returning to the Imperial Household Department, he looked around cautiously for a moment, then hurried off toward Zhongcui Palace.

Compared to the warm and joyful atmosphere of Changchun Palace, the mood in Chengqian Palace felt somewhat tense.

Noble Consort Xian lay prone on the beauty couch, one fragrant shoulder half-exposed. A tattoo artist carefully examined the old scar on her shoulder. After weighing his options for a long time, he finally spoke cautiously, “Your Ladyship, perhaps a lotus flower would be best. The lotus emerges from the mud yet remains unstained; it is washed by clear ripples yet remains free of seduction. It is the purest flower in the world—perfectly suited to Your Ladyship’s character.”

“Emerges from the mud yet remains unstained; washed by clear ripples yet remains free of seduction?” Noble Consort Xian was stunned for a moment, then burst into loud laughter. She laughed so hard that her hairpins became disheveled and even the thin gauze draped over her body slipped off. “Wonderful—truly wonderful!”

The tattoo artist knelt on the ground, not daring to lift his head to look at her. Sweat beaded densely on his forehead, unsure what he had said wrong.

“Get up,” Zhener reminded him from the side. “Her Ladyship has agreed. Just do as you said!”

“Yes.” Only then did the tattoo artist wipe the sweat from his brow and stand up. It took him several minutes to steady his nerves and stop the trembling in his hands before he could firmly pick up the needle again.

The silver needle dipped in dye was gently placed on Noble Consort Xian’s shoulder.

With every prick of the needle, Noble Consort Xian’s body gave a slight shudder. Before long, large beads of sweat broke out all over her, making her look as though she had just been pulled from the water.

To prevent the dye from smearing, Zhener kept wiping the sweat from her body with a handkerchief. With some heartache, she said, “Niangniang, wouldn’t keeping that scar make the Emperor pity and cherish you even more?”

“You don’t understand.” Noble Consort Xian drew in a sharp breath, her gaze cold and fierce. “As time passes, pity and guilt turn into disgust. Even if the Emperor says nothing, I must have enough self-awareness.”

A blue lotus slowly bloomed on Noble Consort Xian’s shoulder. Her expression grew even colder. At that moment, a knock came from outside. Zhener went out for a moment and, upon returning, leaned close to Noble Consort Xian’s ear and whispered, “Niangniang, Wei Yingluo has left the palace.”

“Is that so?” Noble Consort Xian slowly opened her eyes. “Then what are we waiting for? Pass this news to Consort Chun.”

“Yes.” Zhener accepted the order and left the palace.

After she departed, Noble Consort Xian said nothing more. She lay quietly on the couch, arms folded beneath her head, resting her head on them and closing her eyes as if napping, until Zhener returned once again.

By then the lotus was complete. The tattoo artist packed up his tools, bowed, and withdrew. After seeing him off, Zhener finally spoke: “Niangniang, will Noble Consort Chun truly take action?”

“Human greed knows no bounds.” Noble Consort Xian smiled without opening her eyes. “At first she only wanted a child. Once she truly became a mother, she would want more. Yet everything she desires has become nothing more than an illusion with the birth of that legitimate son… Who’s there!”

The curtain suddenly trembled; the person behind it clearly lacked the courage to step forward.

Zhener swiftly walked over, yanked the curtain aside, and revealed the trembling tattoo artist hiding behind it.

The tattoo artist’s face was deathly pale. His lips quivered as he stammered, “Niangniang, this servant… left behind one needle…”

Noble Consort Xian smiled slightly and did not make things difficult for him. She simply told him to take it and leave quickly. The tattoo artist, as though granted amnesty, hurriedly retrieved the needle and fled.

Zhener hesitated, about to speak, when suddenly a miserable scream came from behind them. Turning around, they saw a spray of fresh blood blooming across the curtain.

Without even raising her head, Noble Consort Xian waved her hand lightly. The curtain shook for a moment, and then came the sound of a heavy object being dragged away across the floor. Soon the noise faded and disappeared entirely.

“Old friends who were once as close as sisters, now slaughtering one another for the sake of the heir to the throne.” Noble Consort Xian slowly pulled her clothing back over her shoulder, concealing the lotus, and laughed softly. “I have waited a very long time for this grand drama!”

Crash—

Inside Changchun Palace, the Empress stared at the porcelain bowl that had shattered into several pieces on the floor. Her brows furrowed tightly.

Several palace maids immediately came forward to clean it up. Ming Yu handed her another identical porcelain bowl; inside was half a bowl of green rice congee, its color a vivid jade-green, refreshing and appetizing. The Empress had always loved this dish, and it was the one Wei Yingluo was best at preparing.

Now, without her company, the Empress always felt something was missing. Even this bowl of green rice congee before her had lost its flavor. After merely stirring a few spoonfuls, she set it down and sighed, “My mouth feels bland today. I have no appetite. Take it and divide it among yourselves.”

The dishes on the table had scarcely been touched. The palace maids happily carried them away to share. The Empress then went to the warm pavilion to check on Yongcong. After coaxing him to sleep, the night had grown deep. She yawned, returned to the bedchamber, and asked Ming Yu to help her remove her hairpins and ornaments in preparation for bed.

Halfway through removing the pins, a sudden loud shout came from outside the hall: “Help! The warm pavilion is on fire!”

The warm pavilion—Yongcong’s current residence.

The Empress was so shocked her soul seemed to fly out of her body. She leaped to her feet and cried, “Yongcong!!”

There were no stars or moon in the sky, yet the warm pavilion had become a sea of flames. Blazing light shot upward, turning half the sky red—like a brush dipped in fresh blood, painting a blood moon across the heavens.

“Yongcong! Yongcong” The Empress was being held back by several palace maids; otherwise, she would have already rushed into the sea of flames.

Several palace maids and eunuchs dashed toward the huge “Auspicious Jar” at the palace entrance, intending to fetch water to fight the fire. But when they lifted the lid, the water inside had completely frozen into solid ice—there was no way to draw any out.

“How could this happen?” Ming Yu stared at the block of ice inside, her voice filled with bitterness. Suddenly she turned and shouted to the palace servants: “Call the fire brigade to put out the fire! The rest of you, go to the rear courtyard—get water from the well! Well water!”

One person rushed out the palace gate to report the news, while the others hurried to the back courtyard for water.

After everything had been arranged, Ming Yu looked left and right, and her face suddenly turned deathly pale: “Where is Her Majesty?”

In the chaos of fetching water and fighting the fire, no one had stayed behind to watch over the Empress. Only now did they realize she had vanished without a trace. Ming Yu stared at the wide-open door of the warm chamber that had somehow been pushed ajar at some point. Her heart and guts felt as though they were splitting apart. She let out a desperate cry: “Empress!”

She charged toward the door without regard for anything, but a blast of scorching heat forced her back. Coughing violently, she stood frozen in indecision—until the eunuch who had gone to report returned, leading the fire brigade.

“Quick—save the Empress!” Ming Yu pointed at the door, now glowing red from the flames, and sobbed as she shouted to them: “The Empress is inside!”

Everyone was horrified. The fire brigade immediately began using water buckets to fight the blaze, but the fire was too fierce and could not be extinguished quickly. As it burned on, glazed roof tiles cracked and fell one after another; the warm chamber seemed on the verge of collapse.

“Empress!” With no other choice, Ming Yu gritted her teeth, yanked the cotton robe off a nearby eunuch, soaked it with water, draped it over herself, and prepared to rush into the inferno.

The people beside her hurriedly held her back. Struggling, Ming Yu cried: “Let me go—I have to save Her Majesty… Empress! Look—it’s the Empress!”

Everyone followed her gaze and saw a staggering figure stumbling out from inside the warm chamber. Before anyone could rejoice, Ming Yu was already shouting anxiously: “Quick—call the imperial physicians! Hurry, hurry!”

The Empress was covered in burns, her injuries horrifying to behold. Flames still flickered on her clothing and in her hair. Several eunuchs and maids rushed forward, tearing off their own outer garments to smother the sparks on her body.

Seeing her in such a wretched state, Ming Yu’s tears poured out all at once. She threw herself forward: “Your Majesty, are you all right… is the Seventh Prince all right?”

As she spoke, she lowered her head to look at the swaddled bundle the Empress was clutching tightly to her chest. Suddenly her gaze froze.

“He’s fine,” the Empress rasped, her eyes vacant and unfocused. “He’s fine… he’s fine…”

The swaddling cloth was charred black. Inside, there was utter silence—no crying, no… breathing at all.

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