Story of Yanxi Palace, Chapter 99: Hard to Endure
The news that the Empress was able to walk again reached the Fucha household, filling everyone from top to bottom with joy. The old madam, despite being ill, insisted on going to the temple to fulfill a vow. Before departing, she instructed Fuheng to return to the palace and pay a visit.
After receiving an official post, Fuheng rarely went to the rear palace anymore—partly because he was busy, and partly to avoid… not just to avoid suspicion, but to avoid her…
Now there was no avoiding it. Fuheng could only enter the palace. He lingered outside Changchun Palace for a long time before finally gathering the courage to step inside.
“Greetings, Your Majesty.” He paid his respects to the Empress, but his peripheral vision involuntarily slid sideways—toward Wei Yingluo.
Wei Yingluo stood attending beside the Empress, head bowed, silent, not uttering a word, not even glancing at him.
“Yingluo, you may withdraw,” the Empress said.
Fuheng watched dazedly as Wei Yingluo’s figure departed. Suddenly a sigh sounded in his ear: “What is past is past. Yingluo has already let go. You should let go too. Is your heart really narrower than that of a woman?”
The image of her kneeling and kowtowing once in the wind and snow reappeared in his mind. Fuheng clenched his fist, then finally said hoarsely: “Sister, rest assured. I will treat Erqing well. I won’t let her suffer any grievance.”
What he didn’t say was that ever since returning from the audience with the Emperor that day, he had been sleeping in the study. Even when he was unavoidably sharing a bed with Erqing, they slept apart like strangers—he never touched her.
“I’m sorry. I still can’t forget her right now,” Fuheng thought to himself, filled with guilt. “All I can do now is make it up to you in other ways…”
Food, clothing, shelter, and travel—every luxury was provided. Whatever Erqing wanted, Fuheng would never refuse.
The Empress had keen eyes—how could she not see what was in his heart? But even an upright official finds it hard to settle family affairs. Though she felt some resentment toward Erqing for taking advantage of the situation, in the end the decision had still been Fuheng’s own.
A decision one makes must be borne by oneself.
“It’s best if you can say it—and even better if you actually do it,” the Empress could only sigh. “Yingluo is already in the past. Erqing… is the one who will accompany you for the rest of your life.”
Fuheng gave a muffled “Mm.”
“Besides, with Erqing’s character, she is hardly unworthy of you…” In an effort to console him, the Empress began to chatter on at length, every word laced with praise for Erqing—her beauty, her talent, her steadiness, how she would make an excellent wife…
Fuheng understood her kind intentions and patiently listened until the end. Only when the Empress began to tire did he take his leave.
Burdened with heavy thoughts, he returned to the Fucha residence. The moment he stepped into the courtyard, the steward came hurrying over in a panic:
“Young Master, you’re finally back!”
Fuheng sighed. “What happened?”
In the Empress’s eyes, Erqing was a beautiful, talented, steady, and virtuous young woman—at least, the Erqing of the past had been that way.
But in reality?
The excessively long wait had made Erqing’s temper increasingly erratic. Arguments had become routine, and lately she had even begun resorting to physical violence—either punishing one servant or beating and scolding another.
“Young Master, please hurry to the study and take a look,” the steward said, still shaken. “Qinglian is about to lose her life!”
Fuheng froze for a moment, then strode quickly toward the study.
He had barely reached the doorway when a blood-curdling scream erupted from inside—only to be abruptly cut off.
“Madam, she’s fainted.”
Erqing’s voice rang out coldly: “Splash her awake.”
The sound of water splashing followed.
“Madam, shall we continue twisting?”
Erqing: “Twist—keep twisting! Cutting off her hair isn’t enough. I still need to ruin that vixen’s face. Let’s see how she’ll seduce Fuheng after this!”
Fuheng drew a deep breath, pushed the door open, and barked:
“Stop!”
The study, once filled with the fragrance of ink, had now been transformed into a scene from a nightmare. A maid was kneeling on the floor, hands bound behind her back, trembling violently.
Fuheng recognized her—and yet at the same time, he almost didn’t.
He remembered her name was Qinglian. She was quick and efficient, quiet and reserved. She had only been assigned to serve him last month, and the two of them had not even had the chance to exchange a single proper sentence.
He could barely recall what her face looked like. The only thing that had left a deep impression was her long, cloud-like hair. The first time he saw it, a line of poetry had unexpectedly surfaced in his mind:
Freshly washed with orchid paste, her cloud-like chignon gleams smooth; a jeweled hairpin slants among the black silk strands.
Now, that glorious head of hair had been hacked into ragged, uneven patches, looking like a bird’s nest maliciously torn apart by cruel hands.
Strands of severed hair lay scattered on the floor like fallen dark clouds, like drifting crow feathers. Erqing stood atop the pile of cut hair, holding a pair of golden scissors. Slowly, she brought the blades close to the maid’s face.
“Stop!” Fuheng cried out in alarm.
Erqing turned to glance at him, then suddenly smiled. Without the slightest hesitation, she drove the scissors toward the maid’s face. A long, deep gash sliced from left to right across the maid’s cheek. The girl let out a wretched scream before her head lolled forward and she fainted again.
“This head of soft, lovely black hair falling to the ground is truly a pity,” Erqing said, pinching the maid’s chin and deliberately turning her blood-drenched face toward Fuheng for him to see. Smiling sweetly, she continued, “Why don’t we sew all this hair back into the wound? Let her face sprout black strands, make her look like a ghost, so she’ll never dare show her face in public again… What do you think, my husband?”
Fuheng had been to war. He had killed before. He had thought himself unafraid of bloodshed, unafraid of death. Yet at this moment, watching the woman before him smile so charmingly and innocently, a sudden chill crawled up his spine.
“Someone… take Qinglian away and call a physician to treat her wounds,” he said, closing his eyes for a moment before issuing the order.
The steward hurried forward to lift Qinglian. Erqing’s eyes flashed coldly. She pointed the golden scissors at him:
“Did I give permission for her to leave?”
Fuheng could endure no more. In a few strides he closed the distance, snatched the scissors from her hand, and flung them to the floor. In a low, heavy voice he commanded:
“Everyone—get out!”
After everyone had withdrawn, he looked at Erqing with a gaze heavy with pain:
“Erqing, are you still going to keep making trouble?”
“Making trouble?” Erqing laughed. “Fucha Fuheng, for this entire year you’ve been sleeping in the study, never once stepping into my room. Was it all because of her?”
Fuheng frowned.
“What are you saying?”
“Today I came in and saw with my own eyes how she was making your bed and folding your quilts! Fucha Fuheng, we’ve been married less than a year, and yet you humiliate me like this!” The more Erqing spoke, the more agitated she became. Finally she rushed forward and began tearing at him in a frenzy.
Fuheng did not fight back. He merely raised an arm to block her. As a result, a hairpin slipped from his sleeve, fell to the ground, and broke into two pieces.
Her eyes swept over the hairpin, and Erqing grew even angrier:
“You still say there’s nothing between you and her—this is proof!”
“…This hairpin was originally meant to be a gift for you.” Fuheng turned away, his voice filled with exhaustion. “But now it seems there’s no need.”
He walked out the door. The world was vast, yet suddenly he had no idea where to go or whom to see. After hesitating on the road for a moment, he changed direction and went to the servants’ quarters to visit the innocent Qinglian, who had suffered unjustly.
The doctor had already been summoned and was tending to her injuries. Looking at her face wrapped round after round in white bandages, a flash of guilt passed through Fuheng’s eyes. For a young woman, her face often determined the happiness of the rest of her life. The sin Erqing had committed—he would repay it. If this girl could never marry because of it, he was willing to support her for the rest of her life…
“…Young Master.” A gentle female voice suddenly spoke.
The voice sounded so strikingly like Wei Yingluo’s that Fuheng was dazed for a long moment before he came back to himself.
“…Yes? What is it?”
Qinglian, lying on the bed, tremblingly reached into her bosom and took out an object, offering it to him with shaking hands.
A somewhat faded-looking sachet.
The token of love from Qixi Festival… that in the end had become the witness to their parting.
Fuheng was stunned.
“…How is this with you?”
“When this slave was tidying Young Master’s bed, I accidentally found this sachet. The Young Madam must have misunderstood, which is why she flew into such a rage.” Qinglian paused, then continued, “I saw how carefully Young Master kept it hidden under the pillow, so I knew it must be very precious to you… I took the liberty of hiding it away, so the Young Madam wouldn’t throw it out…”
Fuheng looked at her hands… Not only had Erqing cut off her hair, she had also torn out her fingernails. All ten fingers were now bare stubs, swollen like radishes, already turning blue and purple, with blood still seeping from the wounds.
“…Doctor.” Fuheng reached out and took the sachet, then instructed, “Don’t do half a job. Wrap her fingers properly as well. If there are any other injuries on her body, bandage those too.”
“Thank… thank you, Young Master…” Qinglian forced out her thanks, not a single word of complaint.
Her voice really did sound remarkably like Yingluo’s…
Fuheng glanced at her once more, then turned and left. On the way, he instructed the steward:
“Once Qinglian’s injuries have healed, let her continue cleaning the study. As for the Young Madam—bar her from entering the study again!”
“Yes, sir!”
Barring Erqing from the study did not, however, bar her from other places.
Such as their shared bedroom.
Erqing had been married into the family for nearly a year, yet her belly showed no sign of movement. Lady Fucha was eager to hold a grandson soon, so she kept pressuring Fuheng to sleep in the bedroom.
The blood in the study had not yet been fully cleaned, so it was temporarily uninhabitable. Fuheng had no choice but to return to his own room. But he truly did not want to see Erqing’s face, so he extinguished the lamp early and lay on his side, facing inward.
Behind him came a sigh. In the darkness, Erqing’s voice rang out, full of apology:
“Fuheng, I know I was wrong.”
Fuheng remained silent.
“We are newlyweds. You’re busy with official duties every day and have no time to consider my feelings. I couldn’t help but get angry for a moment and took it out on a maidservant.” At first Erqing merely lay beside him shoulder to shoulder. As she spoke, her body gradually inched closer. Finally she reached out, wrapped her arms around him, and cooed in a spoiled tone:
“Alright, alright. If you truly like her, then in the future you can simply take her as a concubine. But after all, she comes from lowly origins—she’ll never be presentable on the main stage…”
Fuheng could no longer bear it. He sat up and said coldly, “You still don’t understand even now?”
Erqing said aggrievedly, “I’ve already lowered myself to come and apologize. Why are you still being so aggressive?”
Fuheng: “Because of a momentary misunderstanding, you twisted her hair, forcibly pulled out her fingernails, and even branded her with a hot iron! She is also a human being. In your eyes, is a human life worth so little?”
Erqing said matter-of-factly, “Who treats a maidservant as a real person!”
Fuheng said in disbelief, “The Xitara Erqing I once saw in Changchun Palace was gentle, virtuous, dignified, and amiable. But now? You spend your days socializing and entertaining, passing news and people from the Fucha family to your family and Laibao, while abusing maidservants in every possible way. Do you truly want to live a good life?”
Erqing said angrily, “Fucha Fuheng, that is my grandfather—he is not an outsider at all! In official circles, one must stick together. Don’t you need his support?”
Fuheng: “I don’t need it! The Emperor hates nothing more than people forming cliques. I have warned you so many times—why do you refuse to change?”
Erqing, furious and exasperated: “You sound so righteous and noble, but in truth it’s because you still have Wei Yingluo in your heart. That’s why you pick on me at every turn and find me displeasing!”
Fuheng was struck at his sore spot, yet he said firmly, “Yes, I have not forgotten her! But I have been trying—I have tried to treat you well, tried to give you everything you want! Yet now, the moment I see you, I think of those blood-drenched hands!”
Erqing: “Fuheng, Wei Yingluo is even more vicious than I am!”
Fuheng, in a rage: “Wei Yingluo may love and hate clearly, but she never harms the innocent! You, on the other hand—out of momentary jealousy, you can ruin someone’s entire life!”
Erqing scoffed with icy disdain: “So what if you can’t forget her? I am your wife—the one you are supposed to love!”
That was how it should have been.
This was also the promise Fuheng had made to the Empress. He had tried very hard to fulfill it; otherwise, he would not have indulged Erqing in every way over the past year, nor would he have bought a gold hairpin to give her.
Unfortunately, when that gold hairpin broke in two, the narrow crack in his heart that had just begun to open closed once again. Fuheng suddenly sat up, picked up a robe and draped it over himself, then got out of bed and walked straight toward the door without any hesitation.
“Wait!” Erqing immediately panicked. “Where are you going?”
“Xitara Erqing.” Fuheng called her full name, pushed open the door, and said without looking back, “In my heart, you will never compare to Wei Yingluo! Your cruelty and viciousness disgust me to the extreme.”
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