Dawn was breaking, the sky about to brighten.
Waves of cool air soaked through Chang’an city, and from the thick, deep greenery came the crisp, pleasant sound of birdsong.
It was the sixteenth day of the eighth month, just after the Mid-Autumn Festival. The head matron of Chonghua Hall walked along the covered corridor on all four sides, gong and drum in hand, beating the drum with one hand and knocking on doors with the other, calling out sharply: “All women rise at once, wash and dress. You have only two quarter-hours, no exceptions!”
Earlier that month, the war that had raged in the north for half a year had ended in a total victory for the Great Yong army.
Following their defeat, in order to keep the Northern Di from being wiped out entirely, Khan Shang Zhi had been forced to sign a new treaty.
Every year, the Northern Di would pay tribute to Great Yong, and had now sent ten flower-like, jade-fair princesses to Chang’an as hostages, including three of Shang Zhi’s own daughters, six nieces, and his foster daughter Fu Ying, to demonstrate their sincerity in submitting as vassals.
Noble princesses reduced to lowly hostages, stripped of all freedom, as good as prisoners, their very survival resting entirely on a single whim of the Great Yong emperor, they lived in constant, uneasy dread.
However unwilling they were, their personal losses could not compare to the fall of their homeland. Caught in the grip of fate, they were nothing more than ants scraping by to survive.
In early August, the group of women had arrived in Chang’an and were temporarily housed in Chonghua Hall within the Daming Palace, and would be sent to their respective assigned destinies on the auspicious day of the tenth of the ninth month.
Fu Ying shared the southern room of the east wing with Shang Jue’s second sister, Shang Yao.
Shang Yao, eighteen years old, two years older than Fu Ying, had previously been a princess of noble birth and pampered luxury, with a shapely figure and a face as lovely as a lotus rising from the water.
Although the two were close in age, their personalities were quite different.
Fu Ying spent her days in the company of books and paintings, neither restless nor impatient, Shang Yao, spoiled and pampered since childhood, found the days without maids to serve her thoroughly tiresome.
Her ears aching from the head matron’s drumming and gong outside, Shang Yao dragged herself up, still half-asleep, and after a good while of lingering, slowly went to fetch the dress laid out beside her.
“To be honest, these people—as if this cramped room weren’t bad enough, they had to separate us from our maids too. When has this palace ever made me suffer such hardship?”
Shang Yao muttered in displeasure, and Fu Ying, who was changing her clothes, made a gesture for her to keep quiet.
“Sister, we must be careful with every word and action here. Mind that trouble doesn’t come from careless talk.”
“Oh……”
Only then did Shang Yao realize something was amiss.
The ten of them, sisters and cousins, had already lowered their own status to serve as hostages, and naturally needed to change how they referred to themselves.
Once they had changed and washed up, Shang Yao sat before the dressing mirror, carefully and meticulously applying her makeup.
“A Ying,” Shang Yao said, carefully pressing a peach-pink plum-blossom-shaped floral appliqué onto her forehead in front of the bronze mirror, then turning to look at Fu Ying, “how does my makeup look today?”
Fu Ying was placing goose-pear tent incense onto the burning charcoal, and glanced up at Shang Yao, saying sincerely: “It looks lovely, it makes sister look even more radiant and captivating.”
Delighted, Shang Yao looked at herself in the bronze mirror again and again, adding a few tiny pearls as accents around the floral appliqué.
Fu Ying smiled, lowered her head, and covered the mica sheet, closing the lid of the incense burner.
Light smoke rose curling up along with a sweet, faint fragrance, spreading through the room like a thin veil of gauze.
“Sigh……”
After her moment of delight, Shang Yao’s brow could not help but knit slightly, and she let out a soft sigh.
“He hasn’t come in three days now.”
Fu Ying, of course, understood exactly who “he” referred to in Shang Yao’s words.
The Northern Di was known for its outstanding natural beauty, and rumor had it that the women there were unmatched in loveliness. On the very day their group had arrived at Chonghua Hall, several princes had come specifically to observe them from a distance.
Among them had been the fourth prince, Wen Jiong, Prince of Wu.
Ever since Empress Zhen Yi’s death, Consort Shu, the Prince of Wu’s birth mother, had enjoyed the emperor’s exclusive favor, holding great authority in managing the affairs of the inner palace, at the height of her glory.
A son’s status rises with his mother’s, though the Prince of Wu lacked any real talent, he too was well favored by the emperor, showered with countless titles and rewards.
That day, Shang Yao had dressed herself in a bold, radiant style, and seizing the moment, had displayed her graceful, alluring figure before the visiting princes.
Once she recognized the Prince of Wu, she had boldly approached him, hooking a finger lightly at his collar, her eyes brimming with seductive charm.
The Prince of Wu had looked her over meaningfully, the corner of his mouth curling upward. After a few exchanged words, he let Shang Yao lead him into the room.
The rest of the women and princes had all frozen in place, exchanging glances.
The head matron, watching the group of attendants trailing behind the Prince of Wu, pretended not to notice at all.
This place did not fall under the inner palace’s jurisdiction, and faced with a high-ranking, powerful prince engaging in a private tryst with a hostage princess, the head matron would rather look the other way and mind her own business than invite unnecessary trouble.
In the courtyard, Shang Jue’s cousin Shang Mei looked at the tightly shut door and complained with helpless annoyance: “Well, would you look at that, A Yao is so sly——”
Another woman merely shrugged: “If I had that kind of nerve, I’d throw caution to the wind too. Everyone knows the Prince of Wu recently lost his wife, and the position of princess consort is vacant, with such a golden opportunity, of course A Yao would move first.”
Fu Ying stood silently behind them, saying nothing.
She was simply troubled by the practical matter of where she was supposed to go for the next hour or so, now that Shang Yao and the Prince of Wu had taken over the room.
……
Seeing Shang Yao so worried, Fu Ying could not help but offer some comfort: “Sister, the Prince of Wu lives far off at his own residence, he doesn’t come into the palace every single day.”
Shang Yao still wore a troubled expression. “Never mind that, I spend so much time every day dressing up just hoping he’ll think of me even a little.”
“Actually……”
Fu Ying hesitated, weighing her words back and forth, but decided to say it anyway: “A man like the Prince of Wu will never lack for women at his side. Sister shouldn’t pour all her heart into him and bring herself needless worry……”
“A Ying, you’re still young, there are things you don’t yet understand!”
Fu Ying’s words seemed to have struck a nerve, and Shang Yao, unable to hide her agitation, cut in quickly: “Men are all ruled by their desires. What I’m doing is planning for my own future.”
Shang Yao continued: “We have no one to rely on here in Chang’an, strangers in a strange land. With someone’s protection, we might still live comfortably, and see out what’s left of our lives. And you, spending your days so carefree and idle, why don’t you give any thought to your future?”
Their current situation was like fish laid out on a chopping block, at the mercy of whoever held the knife [1]like fish laid out on a chopping block, at the mercy of whoever held the knife (zu shang yu rou, ren ren zai ge, 俎上魚肉，任人宰割) Idiom, utterly helpless, entirely at the mercy of others jQuery('#footnote_plugin_tooltip_3270233_1_1').tooltip({ tip: '#footnote_plugin_tooltip_text_3270233_1_1', tipClass: 'footnote_tooltip', effect: 'fade', predelay: 0, fadeInSpeed: 200, delay: 400, fadeOutSpeed: 200, position: 'top center', relative: true, offset: [-7, 0], });, surviving on their own strength alone would be extremely difficult.
How could Fu Ying not have thought of this herself?
Faced with the matter of survival, she did not consider herself above it all, and had indeed been searching for someone worth relying on. It was only that this someone could never be a frivolous, lecherous man like the Prince of Wu.
Each person had their own path, and Fu Ying knew there was little use saying more to Shang Yao, the other woman might even come to see her as the stubborn, unreasonable one instead.
After their midday nap, the women came out of their rooms, gathering in twos and threes, chatting merrily.
Suddenly, the hall’s door was thrown open, accompanied by a resonant announcement.
“The Prince of Wu has arrived——”
The women all bowed in greeting, saying together: “Greetings, Your Highness.”
The Prince of Wu wore court robes of fine silk patterned with rosy clouds, his expression buoyant, his magnificent attire proclaiming his noble, extraordinary status, utterly out of place amid the plain, simple furnishings of Chonghua Hall.
Several attendants followed behind him, it seemed he had come here straight after his morning audience with the emperor.
He was handsome, tall and upright in bearing, and combined with his exalted status, it was no wonder he could seduce so many lovesick women.
The Prince of Wu waved a hand grandly, signaling for them to rise from their bows, his gaze falling directly on Shang Yao.
Shang Yao looked up, and their eyes met. Her heart pounded rapidly, almost as though it would leap out of her chest.
She strode forward toward him, her face full of shy delight: “A Yao has finally waited long enough for Your Highness to come.”
“Does miss still think of me?”
The Prince of Wu smiled, reaching out to lift her chin, studying closely her carefully made-up face, his eyes full of unrestrained desire for beauty.
Shang Yao blinked, offering a shy, sweet smile.
“This concubine thinks of you every waking moment, Your Highness.”
The Prince of Wu nodded, thoroughly satisfied, deliberately lowering his voice: “With such deep feeling from miss, this prince must cherish you all the more.”
With that, in full view of everyone, he pulled Shang Yao close by her slender waist and led her into the east wing.
Several armed guards followed close behind, closed the door, and stood solemnly guarding it.
The spacious hall fell into instant silence.
One woman pouted and complained: “How many times is this now, A Yao really has no shame at all.”
Another woman shrugged it off: “Well, it’s not happening in our room, so let her do as she likes. If she can climb her way to the Prince of Wu, that’s a skill in itself, I suppose.”
Of course, they only dared murmur such things quietly behind her back.
The Prince of Wu had brought his attendants with him, if word got back to him, they might well be punished for gossiping about a prince.
Fu Ying, just returning from outside the hall carrying a bucket of water to wash clothes, froze for a moment upon seeing the scene inside the hall.
Under the gaze of the whole group, she walked toward the east wing, somewhat confused about what was going on.
Two stern-faced guards stood at the door, and seeing Fu Ying approach, quickly drew their blades and pointed them at her, reprimanding her in a lowered voice: “How dare you, step back at once!”
Not realizing what had happened, Fu Ying was momentarily blinded by the sunlight reflecting off the blade, flinching and turning her face away.
At that moment, deliberately muffled, heavy gasps and moaning cries, along with the creaking of the bed, drifted out through the not-quite-airtight lattice window.
All the blood in Fu Ying’s body rushed to her head, and as though scalded, she instinctively took a large step backward, at a complete loss.
Of the ten women who had come to Chang’an, she was among the few who had never known a man, and naturally, her face flushed bright red at this.
Behind her came the soft laughter of a few women.
“A Ying——”
Shang Mei called out to her with a laugh, teasing her with a hint of malicious glee: “How unfortunate, you’ve been ‘exiled’ again.”
“……”
Fu Ying had nothing to say, instantly knowing exactly who was causing such a commotion inside.
The clothes she had changed out of yesterday were still in the room, and with Shang Yao and the Prince of Wu having taken it over now, she had no way to go do her washing.
Well, so be it.
Knowing there was nothing she could do, Fu Ying sighed and turned to go down the steps.
She was Khan Shang Zhi’s foster daughter, and had been personally named Princess Huaining by his own hand. But among the Northern Di princesses who had come to Chang’an, being the only one of a different surname, she could not help but sense a faint undercurrent of resentment from the others toward her.
Fu Ying felt a pang at this, but did not take it too much to heart.
She took out a handkerchief, wiped the water off her hands, and calmly walked out of Chonghua Hall.
Leaving the bustling crowd behind, Fu Ying took a deep breath, and the atmosphere around her grew relaxed and at ease.
As the imperial palace of Great Yong, Daming Palace was magnificent and resplendent, vast and sprawling, with countless jade towers and pavilions.
Chonghua Hall was located in an independent section on the southwestern side of Daming Palace, used for receiving foreign guests and housing hostages.
They had been told upon entering the palace that outside women were only permitted to move about in this surrounding area, and were not allowed to cross the long street two li away to reach the main halls or the inner palace.
Fu Ying strolled slowly along the pebble path ahead, which led to Yuqing Lake, where, on a fine, sunny afternoon, the lakeside scenery was breathtakingly beautiful.
Weaving through the rockery gardens lush with greenery, Fu Ying’s thoughts could not help but drift far away.
The Prince of Wu had come to Chonghua Hall twice before this, and each time had stayed less than half an hour before leaving.
Today he had arrived at the third quarter of the hour of wei, so she should be able to go back before the hour of shen even arrived.
As Fu Ying calculated the time in her mind, she failed to notice a procession approaching from ahead.
The palace maid leading the procession looked over the distracted woman before her first.
She was an unfamiliar face to the palace, dressed plainly and simply, hardly looking like some noble lady of high standing.
“How dare you!”
The palace maid demanded sharply: “Why do you not bow at the sight of Princess Qingxi?”
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