Once the tooth powders and pastes were prepared, Ying Yang, her own mother, and her own father were naturally the first to try them.
Accustomed as she was to toothpaste, Ying Yang sampled both the ordinary bamboo-salt paste and a version blended with cooked honey. Her conclusion was that the plain bamboo-salt toothpaste was perfectly adequate for everyday use. There was much to be said for an unadorned, uncomplicated life.
Ying Zheng and Xia Xianshi, meanwhile, both chose tooth powder. Perhaps this was because the ink used for writing in their age was itself made by mixing powdered pigment with water.
Xia Xianshi tried a powder containing poria, pine resin, and pearl powder. She pronounced herself satisfied with its ingredients, fragrance, and cleansing power.
Ying Zheng first instructed his daughter to package a portion of every powder and paste for him; he intended to try them all in due course. For the moment, he selected the formula from the Taiping Shenghui Fang, which contained the greatest variety of ingredients. After using it, he praised its ability to perfume the breath and dispel foulness.
Having questioned Ying Yang about the properties of each preparation, he mentioned a swollen, painful spot toward the back of his mouth. There and then he applied the Puji Fang paste containing willow juice, carefully attending to its taste, texture, and fragrance. When he learned that one ingredient was xiongqiong sent as tribute from Shu, his interest only deepened. A quarter of an hour later, he was both astonished and delighted to discover that the swelling and pain in his gums had subsided considerably.
The future First Emperor’s approval was worth a handsome sum. With a magnanimous wave of his hand, he bestowed upon Ying Yang a hundred thousand coins—and contributed another two hundred and fifty popularity points to her account.
Ying Yang: “……”
She was happy. Of course she was happy. Yet there was something strangely unsettling about it.
Why, of all numbers, did it have to be 250?!
When she learned that the money her father had awarded her amounted to roughly two hundred and fifty liang of gold, her heart became a wilderness overgrown with grass.
…
Zhao Ji’s toothache had returned.
A handsome young attendant stood before her holding a bowl of medicinal decoction, gently urging the Taihou to drink at least a little. In Lao Ai’s absence, he was among the eunuchs she particularly favored: quick-witted, eloquent, and deft at pleasing her. On an ordinary day, such soft-spoken coaxing might have won him a measure of indulgence.
Not today. The ceaseless, fine-needled ache in her teeth had worn Zhao Ji’s patience to shreds.
“I will not drink it! I have swallowed the stuff for days without the slightest benefit. It is tormenting me!”
Leaning against her armrest, she pressed a hand to her cheek and drew her brows into a deep frown. Then, catching sight of her reflection in a mirror that had not yet been removed, she hurriedly smoothed her brow and rubbed at the space between her eyebrows, hoping to erase the lines. The next instant a fresh stab of pain shot through her teeth. She doubled over, sweat rising on her skin, unable even to speak.
If she were in Yongcheng, a pair of warm, powerful arms would surely have gathered her close and tenderly comforted her in her suffering.
She had scarcely returned to Xianyang before she began longing for Yongcheng, more than three hundred li away—for the vigorous man who awaited her there, and for her two young sons. Immersed in those comforting memories, she almost fancied that her teeth hurt less.
When the spasm finally passed, however, she came back to herself feeling emptier than before. She sat in a daze for a while, then languidly ordered her attendants to bring honeyed wine.
The people of Zhao were fond of wine, and they had a taste for sweets. In her youth, Zhao Ji had enjoyed drinking without particularly craving sweet things. Too much sugar, she had feared, would thicken her waist. Later, as she passed from being a merchant’s concubine to the wife of a Qin Gongzi, and then to a woman trembling for her life beside her son while seeking protection from her own family, sweetness had become a luxury.
It was only after her return to Qin that she developed a hunger for it.
After years of separation, she had thrown herself into her husband’s arms and wept. When the reunited couple had exhausted their declarations of longing, they began the business of becoming acquainted with the family. Only then did Zhao Ji discover that, in the six years they had spent apart, her husband had acquired twelve more children!
Twelve sons born of other women. The eldest, Chengjiao, was only three years younger than A-Zheng. A little calculation revealed that scarcely had her husband escaped back to Qin before he fathered Chengjiao upon a beautiful woman surnamed Han.
Ha. Ha.
While she and her son had lived from day to day in Zhao, never certain they would survive until morning, her husband had been making a new family. And even after their return to Qin, she had been obliged to spend every waking thought preserving his affection, terrified that she might be cast aside.
From that time onward, Zhao Ji grew to love honeyed wine and honeyed dates. Their sweetness seemed to kindle warmth within her, making her feel a little less lonely, a little less afraid. Only with sweetness filling her mouth could she continue to utter tender endearments, burying every sting of pain, every grievance and resentment deep in her heart. Before the husband who held her life, death, honor, and favor in his hands, she presented the image of a gentle and beautiful wife—and thus safeguarded her own position and her son’s.
“Taihou, Dawang has arrived.”
The attendant’s low, gentle announcement pierced the bitter dream of memory. For a moment Zhao Ji actually wondered, Which Dawang?
Then she laughed at herself. The former king had been dead for seven years. Which Dawang could it possibly be?
She changed her clothes before going out to receive her son.
“A-Mu!” At the sight of his mother, Ying Zheng came forward at once, bowed respectfully, and asked after her meals and her journey. Had the travel been tiring? Had the jolting of carriages and boats caused her discomfort? At last he added, “Your son has been unfilial. I cannot remain at A-Mu’s side to attend to your food and clothing.”
With warmth in her eyes, Zhao Ji replied, “All was well with me in Yongcheng. But the moment I reached Xianyang, this toothache returned. I consulted the shamans. They say I must still ‘avoid the appointed times.’”
In Yongcheng, no one stood above her. In Xianyang, there were two mothers-in-law looming over her head. She was a grandmother herself now. Where was she supposed to find the patience to wait upon two women who had never thought particularly highly of her?
Ying Zheng paused, then said, “A-Mu, Yangzi has prepared two medicinal pastes for relieving toothache. Why not give them a try?”
“Yangzi?” Zhao Ji needed a moment to match the name to a face. The child had not been raised in her presence, nor was she the eldest of the grandchildren. Zhao Ji scarcely remembered her.
“That poor child! What a wicked wet nurse!” she exclaimed sympathetically. “To have suffered so much at such a tender age. I do not object to your showing her special affection. But why go about proclaiming these extraordinary signs of hers?”
“A-Yuan, do not try to fool me. How could a four-year-old child—one whose wits were not even clear before—possibly compound medicine? The palace is full of physicians, and not one has been able to cure my toothache. If Yangzi can do it, she must be Bian Que reborn!”
Ying Zheng had been born in the first month of the year, and he was her first child besides: the eldest son born in the month of beginnings. Zhao Ji had originally wanted to give him a childhood name such as Yuan-niang or Yuan-chun, in the hope that he would grow up safely. Yiren, who came from Qin, had suggested that they might as well call the boy A-Da. Zhao Ji had settled on a compromise: A-Yuan.
Ying Zheng ordered his attendants to present a green-jade jar, a white-jade jar, and a toothbrush.
“A-Mu, why not try them yourself? If they are useless, they will do no harm; you may simply regard them as ordinary things for cleaning the teeth. If they work and relieve your suffering, so much the better.”
“This is called a toothbrush. Yangzi selected a mixture of horsetail hair and sheep’s wool for its bristles, and made the handle from young spring bamboo.” Ying Zheng had already tried the toothbrush and toothpaste in Huicao Hall and knew them to be good things. On hearing that his mother’s toothache had flared up again, he had hurried over to explain their use in person and beg her to try them.
“Horsetail hair? Sheep’s wool? Put into one’s mouth? Wouldn’t it reek?” Zhao Ji complained. Nevertheless, her hand had already reached for the brush. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed, then exclaimed in surprise, “Not the faintest trace of that animal smell!”
She rubbed the bristles between her fingers. Skilled in needlework and accustomed, after ten years of luxury, to examining fine materials, she gave an impartial judgment: “The hair is not of the very finest quality, but the mixture of soft and stiff fibers is quite well judged.”
The prospect of putting it into her mouth no longer seemed so objectionable.
Perceiving the change in her attitude, Ying Zheng redoubled his encouragement.
Unable to withstand her son’s persistence, Zhao Ji withdrew behind a screen. Following his instructions, she first moistened her lips and the bristles, then grasped the bamboo handle and dipped the brush into the yellowish-brown powder in the green-jade jar.
Before the powder had even entered her mouth, she caught the fragrance of medicinal herbs. It was that fragrance which persuaded her to endure the strange sensation of herbal powder moving over her tongue and teeth, and to press on rather than abandon the experiment.
Fragrance signified quality. Fragrance signified expense. Everyone in this age understood as much.
Anything that had been perfumed could hardly be altogether inferior.
The first taste upon her tongue was faintly salty. Was there salt in it? Yet it was nowhere near as briny as the saltwater she sometimes used to rinse her mouth. Perhaps only a little had been added.
Oh? Why is there a hint of sweetness? The sweetness yielded to bitterness; within the bitterness lingered the sharpness of ginger and the clean scent of lotus leaves.
Is this a medicinal powder or a seasoning? Anyone who knew would say I was brushing my teeth. Anyone who didn’t might think I was eating a dish!
Zhao Ji grumbled inwardly, but her hand never stopped moving.
In her three years as Wanghou and seven years as Taihou, she had sampled no shortage of rare and costly things: well salt from western Shu, white salt from Qi and Lu, green salt from the Qiang lands, even the sweet salt once reserved for the Zhou Son of Heaven. She had tried stranger remedies too. Once, when her teeth ached, someone had presented a bitter tea from the southwestern tribes, claiming that it could soothe pain and purge toxins. She had drunk it, only to find her tongue numbed by bitterness and her whole mouth puckered with astringency.
But never before had Zhao Ji experienced this sensation of her teeth relaxing.
Relaxation was an odd word to apply to clean teeth. Yet Zhao Ji was no celebrated scholar, and she could think of no elegant phrase to describe it. She only felt as though her teeth, like her limbs after a bath, had been washed clean and set at ease.
Light. Languid. Utterly refreshed!
She spat out the powder-clouded water and could not resist running her tongue over her teeth.
So all those years of rinsing my mouth never truly cleaned them?
How else could she account for the extraordinary relief of feeling as though years of accumulated grime had finally been swept away?
She beckoned an attendant closer with the mirror. Forgetting every rule of decorum befitting a Taihou, she opened her mouth wide and eagerly inspected her teeth.
“This… this medicinal powder—this tooth powder—was really made by Yangzi? Oh! How wonderfully it works!”
“This powder reminds me of more than twenty years ago, when I first arrived at Lü Buwei’s household.”
The smile on Ying Zheng’s face stiffened. Around them, the attendants lowered their heads until their chins nearly touched their chests.
Zhao Ji glanced at her son. “Why make that face? Are you ashamed of your own mother? If Lü Buwei had not bought me, I might have starved to death somewhere. I would never even have had the chance to meet the former king!”
Ying Zheng answered in a low voice, “The past is past, A-Mu. Your son gives you his word: never again will you be subjected to such humiliation.”
“Tomorrow I must still pay my respects to your Damu,” Zhao Ji observed at her leisure.
A woman who had been “married” twice, borne the former king’s legitimate eldest son, and successfully become first Wanghou and then Taihou was hardly likely to be beloved by her two mothers-in-law. It could scarcely be helped. The positions of Wanghou and Taihou commanded enormous political resources. Zhao Ji’s sudden arrival had deprived the Chu and Han factions among the royal in-laws of benefits they had expected to enjoy.
Ying Zheng had witnessed the struggles among the three Taihou in earlier years. He knew that his mother was at a disadvantage in family standing, political skill, learning, and eloquence. Before Xia Taihou, who came from an illustrious family and had spent years cultivating her influence, Zhao Ji had often been left painfully exposed. Even so, she had exerted herself to the utmost to protect her son’s interests.
As he grew older and his position upon the throne became more secure—less and less easily overturned—Xia Taihou gradually eased her pressure upon Zhao Ji.
At least Zhao Ji was no longer liable to be met with a sudden barbed remark whenever she went to pay her respects to her mother-in-law.
Yet the humiliations of those early years had left their mark. Merely thinking of an audience with Xia Taihou made Zhao Ji miserable. When miserable, she craved sweets; and when she ate too many sweets, her teeth began to ache.
Ying Zheng had some inkling that his mother had suffered indignities at Damu’s hands, though he knew little of their full extent. He assumed that her unhappiness arose chiefly from having been outmaneuvered in the struggle for political influence.
“Once your son has undergone the Guanli and taken the government into his own hands, A-Mu will have no cause for worry!”
*Take the government into his own hands? That would be wonderful!* After enduring all these years, A-Yuan would finally govern in his own right, and she could at last rest easy!
But after that first surge of relief, a little regret crept in.
Only… ah. I have been Taihou all these years, and it is almost as though I had never held the title at all. I have scarcely tasted any of its grandeur. Unlike Xia Taihou, my own mother-in-law: when she speaks, it is an order, and no one dares offend her…
These complicated thoughts passed through her mind, while her face wore an expression of gratified maternal pride: What a filial son I have.
She returned to her earlier question. “Did Yangzi truly mix this powder herself? Surely Xia Shi must have found the recipe beforehand and had Yangzi memorize it, so that she could follow the instructions… Ah! But at four years old, to remember a medicinal formula, and to obey an adult without throwing a tantrum—that is very clever in itself!”
Having reasoned her way around the difficulty, Zhao Ji brightened.
“May the great Wu Xian protect us! My granddaughter Yangzi is so intelligent! And so filial!” She smiled in delight.
From her tone alone, Ying Zheng knew that his mother liked the tooth powder. “Yangzi did indeed prepare it with her own hands. I saw it myself; there can be no mistake.” He went on to describe the scene in which the various powders and pastes had been compounded.
As she listened, Zhao Ji suddenly raised her voice. “There was a toothpaste made with cooked honey?” She turned an accusing look upon her son. “Then why did you not bring your old mother some of that honey toothpaste?”
Ying Zheng: “……”
“A-Mu, toothpaste is not meant to be swallowed. A small amount taken by accident will do no harm, but swallowing a great deal can injure the body.”
“A-Mu, suppose your son did present you with honey toothpaste. Could you promise that you would not frequently ‘swallow it by accident’?”
“Er…” Zhao Ji faltered, then answered with a guilty conscience, “O-of course! I am a grandmother already. Would I behave like a small child?”
Ying Zheng smiled faintly and said nothing. Yet his silence made his thoughts perfectly plain.
He did not believe her.
Zhao Ji rolled her eyes in outrage, turned her back on him, and refused to speak another word.
Author’s Note
Because the palaces of the Western Han were built anew upon the foundations of Qin palaces, or remodeled from them, I have borrowed some of the names of halls and chambers in this novel from Han palace architecture—for instance, Huicao Hall, where our heroine lives~
Before the Han dynasty, there was no separate designation corresponding to “Grand Empress Dowager.” All were called Taihou.
P.S. Qin people called a living mother-in-law Jungu, but that term is rather obscure, so in the narration I have simply written “mother-in-law.” In dialogue, however, I will still use Jungu.
This is the compromise your foolish author came up with _(:з」∠)_ . In narration I lean toward modern expressions to make things easier to understand; in dialogue or a character’s inner thoughts, I use forms closer to Qin-period usage, so the atmosphere is less likely to be broken.
For female cousins, the corresponding terms are congzi and congmei~
In Qin times, nephews and nieces could be called youzi and younü, meaning “as though they were one’s own children.” Those are obscure too, so I am still weighing how best to use them.
Before Qin, terms for siblings did not always carry a fixed masculine meaning. Thus nüdi, A-Di, A-Ti, and A-Mei may be used interchangeably _(:з」∠)_ .
Translator’s Notes
250: In modern Chinese slang, èrbǎiwǔ (二百五, “two hundred and fifty”) can mean a fool or simpleton. Ying Yang’s discomfort is a joke about receiving precisely that number of points—and then a corresponding amount of gold.
Damu: A kinship term used here for Ying Zheng’s grandmother, Xia Taihou.
Guanli is the male coming-of-age capping ceremony.
Wanghou is retained as a Qin royal title.
Taihou denotes the king’s mother or an equivalent senior dowager.