Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 12: The Bedchamber

A young eunuch stepped into Yixi Hall and approached Noble Consort Hui. He leaned close and whispered a single sentence in her ear.

“The Emperor laughed.”

Noble Consort Hui nodded. She nodded slightly to the personal palace maid at her side. The maid immediately led the young eunuch away to receive his reward.

Li Yu was not the only one with ears in place—Noble Consort Hui also had informants close to the Emperor. Whenever someone brought her valuable intelligence, she was never stingy with rewards.

For instance, this time: though the other party had returned with only four words, each word was worth a fortune.

“Since the Emperor smiled, his mood must be quite good tonight,” Noble Consort Hui thought to herself. “Perhaps…”

“Your Highness, is there some happy news?” Concubine Jia asked with a smile.

Noble Consort Hui cast her a sidelong glance without betraying any emotion and replied with a faint smile, “Nothing in particular.”

Inside Yanxi Hall, besides her, sat Consort Xian, Concubine Yi, Noble Lady Wan, and the others. The various concubines were seated according to their rank in their respective chairs—not because they had gathered for casual nighttime conversation, but because they were all waiting for the Emperor’s summons.

Tonight was the same as every night: the green-headed name tablets bearing the names of the consorts were sent to the Yangxin Hall. Every one of them waited with bated breath, hoping the Emperor would pick up her tablet.

“The Emperor hasn’t summoned anyone to serve in his bedchamber for quite some days now,” Concubine Jia remarked, tactfully changing the subject when she saw Noble Consort Hui unwilling to elaborate. She sighed. “Surely he won’t spend the night alone again tonight?”

Her words filled everyone with anxiety—even Noble Consort Hui felt a heaviness settle over her heart.

Though she held high rank and great power in the harem—her word was law, and even the Empress sometimes had to defer to her—there was one secret affliction that tormented her: she had no children.

A beauty fades like a flower with each passing year. One day her looks would wither, and the palace was never short of fresh, blooming young beauties in the prime of youth. When that day came, would the Emperor still pick up her green tablet? No, he would not.

“I really wish I had a child…” Noble Consort Hui couldn’t help thinking.

Raising a son for support in old age—that was true among the common people, and even more so in the palace. When her beauty was gone, what else could she rely on? Naturally, only a son of her own flesh and blood. Even if the child were a bit slow-witted, as long as he became a prince, he would be a solid shield for his aging mother. And if fortune smiled and the child was clever, capable, virtuous, and favored by the Emperor… then in the future… even the position of Empress Dowager could be within reach.

Noble Consort Hui gently stroked her disappointing belly, even less inclined now to share the news she had just received with the others. If it were up to her to decide everything, she would wish nothing more than for Li Yu to place only her green tablet before the Emperor.

The waiting made her restless. Toying idly with the tortoiseshell nail guard on her finger, she asked casually, “By the way, why isn’t Consort Chun here?”

“Your Highness,” Concubine Jia replied, “Consort Chun caught a chill and hasn’t recovered yet. She won’t be coming tonight.” She always seemed to know everything.

Noble Consort Hui gave her an extra glance and drawled lazily, “Out of three hundred and sixty-five days in a year, she spends more than half of them sick. Truly a delicate ‘sickly beauty.’”

“Your Highness is right,” Noble Lady Ying quickly seized the chance to curry favor. “Consort Chun’s constitution really is frail. She falls ill every few days. Just yesterday a few of us were discussing going to visit her.”

“Visit for what?” Noble Consort Hui gave a half-smile that was not quite a smile. “If Consort Chun is ill, the Empress will naturally show concern. Why should you or I bother ourselves?”

Noble Lady Ying choked on her words and for a long moment didn’t know how to respond. Only after some time did she manage a feeble, “Yes, Your Highness.”

Seeing her rebuffed, the other consorts grew even quieter, like cicadas in winter. Everyone wanted a protector; everyone wanted to climb onto Noble Consort Hui’s high branch. But her moods were unpredictable, and ordinary people found it nearly impossible to guess what pleased her. One careless misstep and life in the harem afterward would become unbearable.

Noble Consort Hui played with her nail guard a while longer, then suddenly asked, “What about Noble Lady Yu?”

The room fell deathly silent. No one answered for a long moment.

Noble Consort Hui raised her gaze and fixed it on a beauty dressed in green. “Concubine Yi, I’m asking you. Where is your good sister Noble Lady Yu?”

In the harem, not everyone was at each other’s throats. Occasionally there were pairs like Noble Lady Yu and Concubine Yi—though not blood sisters, they were closer than sisters, always supporting and comforting one another.

Concubine Yi steadied herself, rose, and answered respectfully, “In reply to Noble Consort Your Highness, Noble Lady Yu is unwell and has asked for leave…”

“Oh?” Noble Consort Hui rested her head on one hand. “Another one who is ‘unwell’…”

She had asked offhandedly just to pass the time, but unexpectedly, a trace of nervousness flickered across Concubine Yi’s face.

Before Noble Consort Hui could puzzle out the deeper meaning, Concubine Jia laughed and interjected, “Lately the Forbidden City seems to have caught some strange wind—everyone is falling ill one after another. It looks like we should ask the imperial physicians to prescribe some preventive medicine for all of us.”

“And what about Noble Lady Yu?” Noble Consort Hui kept her eyes fixed on Concubine Yi’s face. “Has an imperial physician seen her yet?”

Perhaps aware that her earlier nervousness had drawn attention, Concubine Yi forced herself to calm down and said, “This concubine originally intended to summon the imperial physician to take a look, but A-Rong has been afraid of taking medicine since she was little. It’s only a slight cough, nothing serious, I’m sure. A few days of rest in bed should see her recover…”

While she spoke, Noble Consort Hui kept her eyes fixed on Concubine Yi’s face. Her gaze was like a saw—cold, sharp, and gleaming, as though in the next moment it would slice open her skull to see what thoughts were hidden inside.

Just then, the door opened, and the chief eunuch, Li Yu, entered from outside.

Noble Consort Hui’s attention was instantly drawn to him. Together with the other consorts present, she turned longing eyes toward Li Yu.

Dressed in plain blue robes, a whisk draped over his elbow, Li Yu saluted the consorts. Then, under their hopeful gazes, he uttered the two words they least wanted to hear:

“All Dismissed!”

Those two words shattered the hope in the consorts’ eyes. As the saying goes, the greater the hope, the greater the disappointment—and no one was more disappointed than Noble Consort Hui. Unable to hold back, she asked,

“Why is His Majesty resting alone again?”

Li Yu smiled apologetically. “Noble Consort Your Highness, memorials have piled up like mountains. His Majesty must review them through the night. He did not wish for the your highnesses to wait in vain today.”

Noble Consort Hui scoffed with icy disdain, immediately rose, and strode toward the door. Such rude behavior was nothing unusual for her. Watching her departing figure, Concubine Yi subconsciously let out a breath of relief. Together with the other consorts, she respectfully called after her,

“This concubine respectfully sees Noble Consort Your Highness off!”

Night had fallen. As the palace women returned to their quarters one by one to sleep, inside the palace maids’ dormitory, a heavy disciplinary ruler suddenly came down with a crack.

“Ah!”

“It hurts so much!”

“Who is it?!”

Cries of pain rose one after another. The young palace maids jolted awake from their dreams, ready to lash out at whoever had disturbed them—only to open their eyes and see Aunt Fang’s face, cold as frost. Instantly, their anger melted away like snow. One by one, they scrambled down from the kang like frightened quails and chorused respectfully,

“Auntie.”

Aunt Fang held the disciplinary ruler in her right hand. It was thick and long, more like a chair leg than anything else. She slowly tapped it against her left palm, her gaze sweeping coldly across each maid’s face until it finally settled on Jixiang.

“How are you sleeping?” she asked icily.

Jixiang was bewildered. She lifted a hand to wipe the drool still at the corner of her mouth and gave an awkward smile. “How else would I sleep? Just lying down, of course.”

“Who permitted you to lie flat on your back?” Aunt Fang snapped. “Sleeping supine like that is cursing Heaven and blaspheming the gods—you’ll invite divine punishment! There are no such undisciplined slaves in this palace! Everyone, get back on the kang and sleep properly—again!”

The maids exchanged glances. Then Aunt Fang’s ruler lashed out at Jixiang: “Hurry up!”

Chaos erupted. The palace maids scrambled frantically back onto the kang. With Aunt Fang’s earlier warning still ringing in their ears, none dared lie flat anymore. Some lay on their sides, others face-down—but they still received a thorough beating from Aunt Fang.

“Your leg—you planning to stretch it all the way to Shenwu Gate?!”

“And you—keep your left hand tucked at your waist!”

“You don’t even know how to sleep properly? You deserve to be beaten!”

The heavy ruler fell like rain—knocking one on the hand, another on the leg. The younger ones had tears welling in their eyes but didn’t dare cry out. They could only bite their lower lips hard and obey her instructions.

Only when every single one of them was lying on their side—looking, at a glance, like identical clay figurines fired from the same mold—did Aunt Fang finally lower the ruler. Coldly, she said,

“Remember this position. Even in your sleep, don’t forget it! Leave!”

With that, Aunt Fang led her two senior palace maids out.

After she was gone, soft, stifled sobs finally rose in the room—muffled, fearful of being heard by Aunt Fang, leaking out as though through clenched fingers.

“Yingluo…” Jixiang rolled up her sleeve, eyes brimming with tears, and said to Wei Yingluo, “Auntie hit me so hard it hurts. Can you look—has the back of my hand turned purple?”

There was no lamp lit in the room. By the thin moonlight filtering through the window, Wei Yingluo couldn’t clearly tell whether the back of her hand was bruised blue or purple. And even if it was—what could be done? The palace hierarchy was strict. It was only natural and right for senior palace maids to beat lowly ones like them. There was nowhere to seek redress.

“Yingluo.” Jixiang quietly scooted her bedding a little closer to Wei Yingluo—like a child who had been beaten outside and was now seeking comfort and warmth from family. “Can you hold me while we sleep?”

Wei Yingluo gently stroked her cheek and gave her a tender smile. “No.”

Seeing that smile, Jixiang had been absolutely certain she would agree. She never expected the complete opposite answer. She froze for a moment, then asked, “Why not?”

Wei Yingluo’s gaze was clear and cool, yet bright. With quiet certainty, she said to Jixiang, “Because Auntie will still come.”

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