Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 200: A Vow for the Next Life, a Promise in This One

   The imperial physicians gathered in Yanxi Palace.

The result… was far from satisfactory.

In the end, even Ye Tianshi declared there was nothing more he could do. With no other choice, Hongli placed all remaining hope on Fuheng, who was far away in Burma. He kept pressing Li Yu: “Has Fuheng replied yet? Any news about the venomous insect?”

Li Yu: “Your Majesty, there has been no word yet…”

Hongli: “Get out!”

After driving everyone away, Hongli sat down beside the bed and took Wei Yingluo’s hand in his.

“Your Majesty.” Wei Yingluo turned her head and gave him a pale smile. “Your hand is trembling.”

Hongli stubbornly replied: “It’s not.”

“Don’t be afraid.” Wei Yingluo comforted him gently. “I’m fine—really. It’s not as serious as they say…”

“What would I be afraid of?” But Hongli could no longer keep up the pretense. His voice softened, carrying a trace of vulnerability: “You’re fine now, and you have to stay fine in the future too. I don’t ask you to be some virtuous, gentle woman—just be a disaster, all right? Only disasters last a thousand years…”

“Your Majesty.” Though reluctant, Li Yu had no choice but to slip back in once more. “There is urgent military news from Burma.”

Hongli had been about to shout at him to leave, but the words made him hesitate, torn.

“Your Majesty, go take care of it.” Wei Yingluo closed her eyes, her expression calm and composed. “I’ll rest here for a little while. I’ll be waiting when you come back.”

Hongli looked at her with deep reluctance: “Wait for me.”

Wei Yingluo kept listening to the sound of his footsteps until they faded completely. Only then did she cough up the mouthful of blood she had been holding back in her throat.

“Your Ladyship!” Xiaoquanzi and Zhenzhu immediately rushed over.

“Don’t cry.” Wei Yingluo forced a smile. “Xiaoquanzi, if those three children ever ask about me in the future, just tell them I went traveling to enjoy the mountains and rivers—I didn’t want to bring them along because they’d be too much trouble. Do you understand?”

Seeing that she was already giving final instructions, Xiaoquanzi held back tears and said: “This servant is slow-witted and doesn’t understand. This servant will go fetch Physician Ye right now!”

He rushed out to find Ye Tianshi. But Wei Yingluo could wait no longer. Amid Zhenzhu’s sobs, she sank into a drowsy, heavy sleep.

It was truly a beautiful dream.

In the dream, there were no worries, only endless laughter and joy.

The one laughing was her—and the one making her laugh… was Fuheng.

He had become the young man he once was again: a refined and gentle nobleman, as warm as jade. Though he was born with those captivating peach-blossom eyes, he had little experience with women and was always teased and spun around by her—only to turn the tables and tease her back.

“Fuheng.” She suddenly asked, “Where are you going?”

He suddenly walked away from her. After a few steps, he abruptly turned back. Amid the crowd, he looked at her for a long, long time—as if trying to engrave her appearance deep into his heart, so deeply that even Meng Po’s soup of oblivion could not wash it away.

“Lord Soulun!”

Wei Yingluo was startled awake by the cry. She looked around and saw that the sleeping chamber was filled with people, some standing, some sitting: Xiaoquanzi, Zhenzhu, and also Hailancha.

Who had just shouted? And why had they called out Fuheng’s name?

“Noble Consort Ling.” Hailancha hesitated, as though he wanted to speak but could not bring himself to do so.

Wei Yingluo looked at him. He was not one of her palace servants—he was a male outer-court official. Without urgent business, he would never dare, nor be permitted, to set foot in the inner palace. She quickly borrowed Zhenzhu’s arm to sit up. “Weren’t you with Fuheng on the campaign in Burma? Why are you…”

Hailancha replied calmly, “Our army repeatedly defeated the Burmese forces. The Burmese sent envoys to sue for peace, so I was ordered to deliver the memorial back to the Forbidden City.”

It was less calm than numb. Wei Yingluo’s heart pounded like a drum. “Is that so… we won… Then what about Fuheng? Has he returned?”

Hailancha remained silent. But Zhenzhu spoke joyfully: “Of course he has! Your Ladyship, Lord Soulun brought back the antidote pill. If not for that, you would not have awakened!”

Wei Yingluo echoed, “Antidote pill?”

Hailancha slowly explained: “It is a divine medicine made from the Sacred Heart Grass of Burma. The Sacred Heart Grass grows in the miasma-filled swamps. It can neutralize the poison of corpse insects, preserve one’s appearance unchanged, and keep youth forever—so it is also called the Pearl of Fixed Beauty.”

Zhenzhu wept with joy. “Your Ladyship, you have truly turned misfortune into fortune!”

In contrast, Hailancha’s expression was utterly bleak. A growing sense of foreboding rose in Wei Yingluo’s heart. She asked, “Where is Fuheng?”

After repeated urging, Hailancha finally answered helplessly: “To gather the Sacred Heart Grass, he entered the miasma. He insisted on directing the battle even while ill and refused to leave the front lines. I tried to persuade him many times, but he was so stubborn…”

At this point, his voice began to choke. “…His body has already been transported back to the Forbidden City.”

Wei Yingluo sat motionless on the bed, speechless.

   Was there really such a foolish person in the world?

   Yes—there was exactly one such foolish person in the world: someone who would risk his own life to gather the medicine for her sake, and who would risk death without hesitation to win victory for Hongli.

   That person’s name was Fucha Fuheng.

   Hailancha choked for a moment, then took a deep breath and spoke regardless: “Noble Consort Ling, there is one sentence Fuheng entrusted me to ask you.”

Wei Yingluo’s voice was dry. “Speak.”

“Wei Yingluo.” Hailancha looked at her earnestly, as though Fuheng were sitting beside her, speaking through his mouth. “In this life I have guarded you long enough. In the next life… could it be your turn to guard me?”

Zhenzhu paled in shock at the words. But Wei Yingluo seemed neither to have heard nor registered them; she simply sat on the bed, lost in thought.

After waiting a long time without receiving any reply, Hailancha said in disappointment, “This servant has been presumptuous. I wish Noble Consort Ling a speedy recovery. This servant—takes his leave.”

He rose to go. At the doorway, he hesitated, unable to take the final step. At last he turned back and asked, “Noble Consort Ling, I know you are the person His Majesty loves most, and the most powerful woman in the Forbidden City. But… can you not give him even the slightest hope?”

He looked at Wei Yingluo full of hope, yet that hope slowly drained from his eyes.

In the end, he left.

“Zhenzhu.” Only now did Wei Yingluo speak. “I want to lie down alone for a while. You may go first.”

Zhenzhu also left. The room was empty except for her.

She leaned against the pillow, gazing at the vast, vacant hall. After a long while, she softly said one word:

“Yes. I promise you.”

The army returned in triumph. The funeral rites were held. Condolences and pensions were arranged. Days passed in a flurry of activity. During this time Hongli was so busy his feet barely touched the ground. He would hurry in to see her, then hurry away again. Each time he left, his expression looked a little better—which also meant that Wei Yingluo’s illness had improved a little more.

That day, she was finally able to get out of bed and walk on her own.

“Come on.” Wei Yingluo supported Zhenzhu by the hand. “Let’s go to Chengqian Palace.”

Chengqian Palace was still occupied by the Step-Empress, but it was no longer the Empress’s palace. Hongli had dismissed her palace attendants, taken away her imperial seal and treasure, stripped her of her empress title—leaving her with nothing but an empty, desolate palace, like an exquisite large birdcage.

The Step-Empress had already shaved her head. When Wei Yingluo arrived, she was kneeling on a meditation cushion, striking a wooden fish.

“Noble Consort Ling.” The sound of the wooden fish stopped. The Step-Empress opened her eyes and looked at her, as if she had been waiting for her all along, as if she had long prepared this question. “You knew early on that Yuan Chunwang was going to make his move, didn’t you?”

Wei Yingluo remained silent.

“All these days, I’ve thought it over and over. You allowed him to act step by step for only one purpose—to draw out Prince He.” The Step-Empress laughed. “Noble Consort Ling, twenty-four years—twenty-four years. You have never forgotten your sister’s death for a single day! What you wanted all along was Hongzhou’s life!”

Now she had finally gotten her wish. No matter how much Hongli still cherished brotherly affection, he could no longer tolerate someone who had plotted rebellion.

Not long after returning from the southern tour, Hongzhou was confined within his princely mansion. Soon after, he “died of illness.”

But how could Wei Yingluo admit it? She only smiled. “Empress, you’re overthinking it.”

Yet her smile had already said everything. The Step-Empress looked deeply at her and sighed. “So it really is true. You truly hold grudges. The only unexpected thing was probably that Yuan Chunwang wanted to drag you down to Hell with him. Unfortunately for him, he failed too.”

After leaving Chengqian Palace, Wei Yingluo made another stop at Yong Alley to see Yuan Chunwang.

He had truly gone mad.

There were too many people in the palace who flattered the high and trampled the low. Now, a whole room was filled with night-soil buckets, and he was the only one scrubbing them.

“Fake, hehe, you’re fake, you’re fake too.” Yuan Chunwang muttered to himself while scrubbing the chamber pots. “I’m the real one…”

“He’s gone completely mad, but the Empress Dowager just won’t allow him to be killed—no one knows why.” Zhenzhu said in a low voice. “He keeps saying he’s of imperial blood. Your Ladyship, is that true?”

“Whether it’s true or false doesn’t matter anymore.” Wei Yingluo smiled slightly, turned, and left Yong Alley. “Coming from somewhere and returning to that same place—isn’t that quite fitting?”

Zhenzhu followed behind her. Just as they were about to leave Yong Alley, she glanced back once.

Yong Alley was like a huge dividing line, separating their worlds.

Yuan Chunwang remained inside, keeping company with the night-soil buckets, while Wei Yingluo walked step by step back to Yanxi Palace. Inside the palace, Li Yu had already been waiting for her, ready to deliver good news.

After she changed into new attire and emerged, the assembled consorts and concubines curtsied to her: “This concubine respectfully greets Her Highness the Imperial Noble Consort. May Your Highness enjoy boundless fortune and peace!”

“Look at you.” After the consorts withdrew, Hongli walked over and said, “You’re practically writing ‘smug’ across your face.”

Wei Yingluo glanced at him and smiled even more smugly.

“Well?” Hongli asked. “Don’t you have anything to say to the man who bestowed this honor upon you?”

Wei Yingluo continued to lower her head, admiring the bracelet on her wrist. “Nothing to say.”

Hongli frowned. “You heartless thing!”

If he got angry—whether real or feigned—other concubines would immediately soften their attitudes and become cautious and pleasing. But not Wei Yingluo. She rolled her eyes. “Your Majesty, if I’m so heartless, how come you still dote on me?”

Hongli: “I have no choice.”

Wei Yingluo, however, laughed and mercilessly pierced through his thoughts: “Just admit it. You’ve wasted far too much time on me, and you’re unwilling to walk away empty-handed—that’s why you’ve sunk deeper and deeper.”

Hongli’s face turned cold. “Even when you were gravely ill, I still put state affairs first—because I am the Emperor. I don’t understand what love is. Don’t flatter yourself!”

Wei Yingluo replied, “It seems we’re exactly the same.”

Hongli’s expression darkened. He wrapped an arm around Yingluo’s waist. “Answer my question again. If you dare spout any more nonsense, I’ll have your head chopped off!”

Wei Yingluo said, “You put the empire first, yet you demand that I love you above all else. How tyrannical!”

“Wei Yingluo!”

Seeing that he was truly angry, she laughed softly, her gaze bright and captivating. “The question you asked earlier… I still don’t have an answer for it right now. But I will use the rest of my life to answer you. Are you ready to listen?”

They gazed at each other for a long moment, each seeing clearly into the other’s heart. Then, at the same instant, they both burst into laughter.

Some rise high, some fall low; some leave, some stay; some live, some die. This is the harem—it has its cruel side, but it also has its tender, affectionate side.

   “Enough. Stop fiddling with all that stuff on you.” Hongli pretended to look disgusted and held out his hand. “Come here.”

Wei Yingluo ignored him again and continued adjusting the ornate robes of an Imperial Noble Consort on her body. In the end, Hongli walked over himself, turned her face toward him, and said, “What’s so interesting about looking at yourself? Look at the flowers.”

He had brought in several rare gardenia plants and transplanted them into Yanxi Palace. No one knew whether it was the special quality of the soil and water here or something else, but the gardenias always bloomed especially vigorously in her presence.

Wei Yingluo turned her face away in feigned annoyance. “Am I prettier, or are the flowers prettier?”

Hongli laughed. “The flowers are prettier.”

Wei Yingluo pretended to be furious and made to walk away, but he pulled her back into his arms and laughed heartily. “Year after year the flowers remain the same; year after year the person stays the same. Yingluo, at this time next year, I will still be here with you, admiring the flowers.”

“And the year after that?”

“The year after that will be the same.” Surrounded by the courtyard full of gardenias, Hongli lowered his head to look only at her. “For this lifetime, I will accompany you to admire the flowers.”

 

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