Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 109: Bereavement [Part 2]

   The Fucha Residence.

   Erqing’s belly had grown even larger, making movement increasingly difficult. Most of the time she spent like today—sitting in a chair, allowing the maid beside her to rub her shoulders, feed her, and tell amusing stories to keep her entertained.

“Where has Fuheng gone?” Erqing asked after eating a red date.

Du Juan quickly replied, “An urgent military dispatch arrived today. The young master was summoned to the palace by imperial decree. At this hour, he should be in Yangxin Hall.”

Erqing smiled. “The Empress has just lost the Seventh Prince. His Majesty is the child’s own father, and Fuheng is his blood uncle—yet neither of those two men is by the Empress’s side. Men truly can be so heartless!”

Du Juan lowered her head, neither willing nor daring to respond.

Such a terrible calamity had struck the Empress. The news had reached the Fucha family overnight. The old madam had immediately fainted. When she awoke, she kept weeping. Her eyes had never been very good to begin with; now, after so much crying, they were even worse. The old master and his wife had always been deeply devoted. Seeing his wife in such a state pained him deeply. Overnight, a great deal of his hair had turned white.

Fuheng need not even be mentioned. He had left the house that day with a taut, grim face. Anyone who knew his temperament understood that this trip to the palace was almost certainly to seek justice for his elder sister.

Throughout the entire household, only Erqing remained completely unmoved. She paid no attention at all to the Empress’s tragedy and still had the leisure to enjoy flowers and eat several extra dates.

She bit into another date, chewed for a moment, then held out her hand. Du Juan reached over. Erqing spat the pit into her palm, then took out a handkerchief to wipe her mouth and said, “I am the Empress’s sister-in-law. It is only proper that I go to the palace in place of Mother to visit Her Majesty. Don’t you think so?”

Du Juan was startled. “But the young master forbade you from going out…”

“Think carefully before you speak to me again.” Erqing gently stroked her abdomen and said slowly, “Fuheng is your master now. But the one here—” she patted her belly lightly—” will be your master in the future…”

Du Juan looked at her belly, her expression complicated.

“Let’s go.” Erqing extended her hand, indicating for Du Juan to help her up. “Take me into the palace.”

The arrival of this unexpected guest startled Ming Yu.

“Why are you here?” she asked. Her voice was somewhat hoarse, and her eyes were red-rimmed—she had clearly been crying all night.

“I’ve come to visit Her Majesty the Empress,” Erqing replied.

Ming Yu hesitated and glanced toward the depths of the bedroom. Inside it was pitch dark; all the windows were tightly shut, the thick curtains drawn. The silence was like that of an enormous tomb: “Her Majesty does not wish to see anyone right now.”

Erqing sighed. “I know. But the more someone stays alone, the easier it is for wild thoughts to take hold. Let me sit with Her Majesty and talk to her—just the two of us.”

Seeing that Ming Yu was still hesitating, Erqing gently tugged at her hand, as intimate as in the old days: “In the past, I was the one who understood Niangniang’s heart best, and as a daughter-in-law of the Fucha family, it is truly my duty to care for and comfort her. Ming Yu, let me go in. Even if I can’t persuade Niangniang, at least I can be some consolation.”

If Ming Yu could have persuaded the Empress herself, she wouldn’t have needed help—but she was never good with words, and the sharp-tongued Wei Yingluo just happened to be away. In the end, she could only pin her hopes on this old acquaintance from Changchun Palace. With a sigh she said, “Alright then, go in and try.”

Erqing smiled coyishly and walked into the sleeping chamber.

Watching the door close in front of her, Ming Yu murmured softly, “Yingluo… when are you coming back…”

“Ming Yu Jiejie!” Zhenzhu’s voice came from the side. “The imperial physician is asking for you…”

“Coming, coming!”

Once the Empress fell ill, Changchun Palace lost its pillar of support. All the big and small matters fell onto Ming Yu’s shoulders.

After handling things for only half a day, Ming Yu already felt overwhelmed and powerless. In her heart she missed Wei Yingluo more and more: “All these messy affairs should be handed over to her—she could sort everything out neatly and clearly, yet I only make things worse and worse…”

By the time she finished dealing with everything, she was utterly exhausted. Suddenly remembering that Erqing was still inside the sleeping chamber, she hurried back, just in time to see the door open and Erqing step out, a faint smile on her face as though something pleasant had happened.

“How did it go?” Ming Yu asked hopefully. “Is Her Ladyship feeling better?”

Erqing smiled: “With me there talking to her, of course she’s feeling much better.”

Ming Yu let out a long breath of relief. In a moment of carelessness, her deepest worry slipped out: “I was so afraid Her Ladyship might… think of something drastic…”

Realizing her slip, she quickly shut her mouth. Erqing tactfully pretended not to have heard those last words and simply smiled: “Don’t worry. Her Ladyship is magnanimous and open-hearted; she will understand sooner or later. It’s getting late—I should leave before the palace gates are locked for the night. You take good care of the Empress.”

Ming Yu saw Erqing off, then lingered for a while at the palace gate. Only when the sun had set and the vermilion gates closed heavily did she sigh, realizing Wei Yingluo would not be returning tonight. With a dejected expression, she returned to Changchun Palace.

The palace maids lit the candles.

Perhaps because her heart felt so desolate, even the candle flames looked to her like bright teardrops.

Ming Yu stared blankly at the candle on the table until a sudden voice came from behind: “Ming Yu.”

She immediately came back to herself and rushed to the bedside: “Your Ladyship!”

The Empress had woken up at some point. She slowly turned her head; her eyes were clear and lucid. Though she looked haggard from the severity of her injuries, her voice and demeanor had returned to their usual gentleness: “I’m hungry. I want something to eat.”

“Good, good.” Ming Yu smiled through her tears. “This servant will immediately tell the small kitchen to prepare something.”

The Empress said: “Untie the ropes first.”

“This…” A trace of hesitation crossed Ming Yu’s face.

“What? Are you planning to keep me bound forever?” The Empress gave her a soft smile. “I’m already better.”

Ming Yu carefully studied her for a moment. Seeing that her expression was normal again, with no trace of madness left, she finally set aside her lingering doubts and carefully untied the ropes.

After being freed, the Empress did not act out. She only gently rubbed her wrists where the rope marks remained and said quietly, “I want to eat the sweet rice cakes that you make.”

“Good, good.” After nodding, Ming Yu hesitated again. “But making it now will take quite a while. You haven’t had a drop of water or a grain of rice all day—how about letting the kitchen prepare some coix seed congee first?”

The Empress shook her head, showing a touch of stubbornness: “No. I only want the sweet rice cakes you make.”

“Alright then.” Unable to refuse her, Ming Yu said, “This servant will go make it right away. Niangniang, please rest well. As soon as it’s ready, I’ll bring it to you.”

Watching her hurried departing figure, the Empress suddenly called out: “By the way… has Yingluo returned?”

“No.” Ming Yu shook her head, feeling deep regret in her heart. If only Yingluo could be by her side, surely the Empress would feel much better.

The Empress said in disappointment, “I understand. You may go.”

The Empress did not truly want to eat sweet rice cakes. She deliberately chose this time-consuming snack just to send Ming Yu away.

Not long after Ming Yu left, the Empress slowly got down from the bed and walked out of the sleeping chamber step by step.

A cold wind blew across the bare branches. The jasmine flowers had somehow withered away at some point, leaving only dry twigs swaying in the wind—an indescribable bleakness and desolation.

The Empress’s gaze passed over the empty branches, looking distantly toward the nearby corner tower. A similarly desolate and forlorn smile appeared on her face as she said softly, “In this life of mine, every step has been a mistake.”

She pulled the hairpin from her head and carelessly tossed it to the ground, laughing as she said, “By nature I hate restraint, yet I married into the imperial family and became the Empress of Great Qing.”

One bright moon earring fell to the ground and was mercilessly crushed under her shoe. She raised her hand to remove the other moon earring from her ear, smiling as she continued, “If only I could have contentedly served as a model for the six palaces, that would have been fine. But I became greedy for romantic love and childlike affection, delusionally hoping to win the Emperor’s love…”

Gold hairpins, step-shakers, earrings, jade rings—one by one they fell from her body, just like her stubborn past, her stubborn duties, her stubborn love.

Before she realized it, the Empress was wearing nothing but a plain white garment. She stood atop the high corner tower, her robes fluttering in the wind.

“One mistake after another. My greatest mistake was giving birth to Yonglian—Yongcong.” She closed her eyes in pain. “The two of you should never have come to me. As your mother, I was unable to protect you. Everything is my fault…”

A light patter of rain began to fall from the sky, mixed with fine snow. The Empress slowly opened her eyes to look at the heavens. She raised her hand to catch a flake of rain-snow; the snow melted in her palm. An unbearable bitterness filled her heart—it felt as though even Heaven was punishing her. When the warm chamber caught fire, there had been no rain from the sky. Yet now, at this moment, rain suddenly began to fall.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She said the words three times—sorry to her clan, to the Emperor, to her two children who died young. Finally, with tears in her eyes, she smiled and said, “I’m sorry, Yingluo. I promised to wait for your return to the palace, but unfortunately, I can’t wait any longer… Still, you must be happy for me. From now on, I am no longer the Empress. I am only Fucha Rongyin. I am—simply Fucha Rongyin!”

Suddenly she spread her arms wide, like a white bird taking flight, and leaped from the corner tower of the Forbidden City.

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