When Ming Yuan returned to Shouyang Palace carrying two empty bowls, the hour of Shen had already passed—several moments later than she ought to have come back.
The Empress Dowager, holding a scroll of sutras, tapped her lightly: “You grow ever more lazy.”
Ming Yuan quickly handed the food box to a maid and smiled: “I dare not, Your Majesty. While delivering the soup, I met with an unexpected incident. If Your Majesty believes I was shirking, then I shall say no more.”
The Empress Dowager: “What incident? Speak quickly.”
Seeing her interest piqued, Ming Yuan stepped closer and recounted in detail all she had witnessed while accompanying the Crown Prince to Yuhua Palace.
At that time, a young eunuch outside wished to report, but the Crown Prince raised his hand to stop him. Thus they entered Furong Pavilion silently.
Ming Yuan had long known the Emperor doted on Princess Yuning, yet even she was startled by the pavilion’s lavishness. If the Eastern Palace was like a cold, hard blade, then Furong Pavilion was a soft, exquisite sachet. The air was heavy with the fragrance of roses; carpets covered the floor; the furnishings were grand and refined. The treasure shelves were crammed with jewels, and many newly bestowed gifts lay piled on the ground, not yet registered into the storerooms.
At first, Ming Yuan thought it excessive, but upon seeing Chun Feng, she felt it almost fitting.
The room was dim, lit by shadow-play lanterns from the music bureau. When the play ended, the girl at the center seemed herself the figure from the show. Because the floor-dragon burned hot, she wore only a cloud-silk underrobe, her bare feet showing, a gauze coat embroidered with birds and flowers draped over her shoulders. Her head tilted slightly, long lashes casting shadows beneath her eyes. Her profile was tender, flushed with youthful bloom—lovelier than the begonias blossoming outside the pavilion. If not for the way she sometimes strode quickly, sometimes walked backward, she would not have lost her royal poise. Yet it was enough for others to see her failure was no act.
The Empress Dowager shook her head: “This child plays little tricks, and by chance the Crown Prince caught her at it. What did he say?”
Ming Yuan covered her lips with a smile: “Your Majesty would never guess. His Highness summoned Yuning to the Eastern Palace, saying she must henceforth learn proper conduct there.”
The Empress Dowager was indeed startled: “He called her to the Eastern Palace?”
Ming Yuan: “Yes, he summoned her there on the spot.”
Although the Crown Prince was both the legitimate heir and the eldest son, the weight of past years had already lent him great authority. With state affairs pressing, he rarely concerned himself with palace matters—least of all with his younger brothers and sisters.
After all, the Emperor and Empress were present; such duties should not have fallen to him.
Privately, Ming Yuan believed the Crown Prince bore no anger toward Yuning. Otherwise, why would he bring her into the Eastern Palace? Wouldn’t she only be an eyesore? Yet the Crown Prince’s mind was not one to be guessed at, and she dared not presume.
The Empress Dowager pondered a moment, then said: “Earlier I suspected Xuan’er might have brought this child Yuning merely to deceive me. But now, seeing how Xuan’er takes her to heart, it seems that is not the case.”
Ming Yuan agreed: “As I said, His Highness would never act so.”
The Empress Dowager: “If His Majesty spoils Yuning too much, it may ruin her temperament. It is well enough for the Crown Prince to discipline her.”
“But this matter of the princess feigning ignorance of etiquette must not spread through the palace. It would shame her. Go to Furong Pavilion and give a warning: any servants who dare gossip shall be fined three months’ pay and flogged ten strokes.”
Ming Yuan laughed softly: “Your Majesty, the Crown Prince at that very moment decreed that if word were to spread, the offender would be fined half a year’s wages and flogged twenty strokes.”
…
When Li Xuan spoke, his word was law. Since he ordered Chun Feng to the Eastern Palace, none of the attendants dared delay. They quickly changed her clothes and slipped shoes onto her feet.
And so, in a daze, Chun Feng left the Furong Pavilion, still heavy with fragrance, and with Xiang Rui at her side, set out upon the road to the Eastern Palace. She felt uneasy and whispered to Xiang Rui: “Good Xiang Rui, tell me about your old home.”
Xiang Rui had once served in the Eastern Palace, so calling it her “old home” wasn’t wrong.
Xiang Rui lowered her voice: “The Eastern Palace is strict in its rules, and the Crown Prince is generous…”
Chun Feng corrected her: “Not generous—he’s narrow and petty.”
Xiang Rui gestured toward the Crown Prince ahead, urging Chun Feng to keep her voice down.
Chun Feng quickly covered her mouth.
Now it was clear—Li Xuan was sly and treacherous. Otherwise, how could he have secretly watched her walking outside Furong Pavilion and exposed her clever ruse? Besides, her three months of docked salary weren’t even finished yet.
With all these things piling up, Chun Feng truly felt a bit afraid of him.
Both Yuhua Palace and the Eastern Palace lay to the east, so after a short walk, Chun Feng, head drooping, entered the Eastern Palace—only then realizing that the building she had seen near Furong Pavilion was part of it. Earlier she had thought it was just the gate tower at the palace entrance. Glancing at the treasure shelves and antique racks inside, with their inkstones and daggers, and at the calligraphy hanging on the walls, Chun Feng grew more disappointed. Everything seemed dull and gray, nothing like the splendor of Furong Pavilion. Even the tea tasted bitter. She took a sip, her little face wrinkling.
Chang Ying asked Li Xuan at the head seat: “Your Highness, shall we summon Nanny Hong…?”
At the thought of gentle Nanny Hong, Chun Feng quietly breathed a sigh of relief.
Li Xuan replied: “No need. Summon Nanny Huang.”
Chun Feng: “…”
Nanny Huang had once taught the Eldest Princess and the Second Princess. Stern and unsmiling, her face always stretched long, which said it all.
Now Chun Feng found herself alone with her in a side hall of the Eastern Palace, Xiang Rui having been sent away.
Nanny Huang held in her hand an old ruler, two fingers wide, and said: “Your servant greets the Princess.”
Chun Feng had never attended the academy. Pointing at the ruler, she asked: “What is this?”
Nanny Huang replied: “This is the disciplinary ruler bestowed upon me by the late emperor. He once said: if the master errs, I am to correct them with this ruler.”
Chun Feng understood at once—this was her executioner’s “imperial sword of authority.” She thought of the shadow plays, where imperial envoys wielded such a sword and did whatever they pleased. A chill ran through her heart.
Fortunately, Eunuch Kang arrived just then, hurrying along. Chun Feng quickly moved toward the doorway, only to see him enter the main hall and then emerge again without seeking her out. Wasn’t he here to save her?
She rushed after him: “Eunuch Kang!”
Startled, he smiled kindly: “Your servant greets Princess Yuning.”
Clutching at this last straw, Chun Feng whispered: “Please, tell Father—I’ve been dragged into the Eastern Palace.” Lowering her voice further, she said: “That Nanny Huang has the imperial ruler!”
Seeing the little princess so distressed, Eunuch Kang’s heart ached. Yet he forced himself to look away and said: “Your Highness, His Majesty has entered seclusion for seven days. During this time, he must not be disturbed, or his cultivation will be ruined.”
Chun Feng blinked in disbelief. Her lifeline was nothing more than a clay idol crossing the river—unable to save itself.
Meanwhile, Li Xuan had already ordered Chang Ying to investigate the imperial treasury. Though it was proper for the emperor to have private holdings, in recent years his power had waned, and gathering treasures was no easy task—most came through the influence of powerful families outside the palace. This move by the Eastern Palace carried a clear warning.
At last, Chun Feng faintly realized: in this palace, the one whose word truly carried weight seemed to be the Crown Prince. She watched helplessly as Eunuch Kang slipped away. Turning back, she saw Nanny Huang standing at the doorway, weighing the ruler in her hand, her voice cold: “Princess, please.”
When the mountain crumbles and the people scatter, one must rely on oneself. Steeling her heart, Chun Feng said to Nanny Huang: “I can learn the rules properly. Don’t frighten me with that ruler.”
Nanny Huang frowned: “Does the Princess refuse the ruler’s authority?”
Thinking of how she had nowhere to turn for help, Chun Feng grew defiant and muttered: “My father and mother never struck me.”
Nanny Huang slammed the ruler against the table with a sharp thud: “Princess, mind your words. You must not bring commoner habits into the palace. Here you must say Father Emperor and Mother Empress.”
Chun Feng froze, unable to speak for a long while. She could not explain that the “father and mother” she meant were Lin Datian and Yu Xiujun. But even their names could not be spoken in this palace—let alone their persons.
…
Within two days, Chun Feng had mastered all the courtly etiquette.
Nanny Huang’s ruler never once struck her, but lying on the desk, it carried enough weight to intimidate. She had thought Chun Feng stubborn and unteachable, which was why she expected her to struggle with the rules. Yet once she began teaching, she understood why her old colleague Nanny Hong praised this child so highly.
A clever student saves her teacher endless effort.
That afternoon, Nanny Huang had nothing more to instruct, only reminding Chun Feng once more: “Princess, when you return to your chambers, behind closed doors, you may do as you please. But outside, you must follow etiquette—never disgrace the royal family’s dignity.”
Chun Feng sat upright and answered: “Yes.”
Nanny Huang recalled how Nanny Hong had said the princess was naturally lively and fond of laughter, disliked others kneeling to her, and did not enjoy ordering people about. Yet in these two days, Chun Feng had not smiled once, as though locked in a silent contest of wills.
Seeing the golden sunlight outside, Nanny Huang said: “It is still early. Princess, why not go out for a walk and bask in the sun?”
Chun Feng replied: “In my elder brother’s palace, I dare not wander freely.”
Nanny Huang said: “The Crown Prince is not in the Eastern Palace.”
Chun Feng brightened: “Then I will go.” She was curious about the Eastern Palace, though wary of meeting Li Xuan. Hearing he was absent, her brows lifted with renewed liveliness. Without him there, she felt at ease.
The Eastern Palace had a spacious courtyard. It should have been lush with flowers and trees, but in this season many had withered. She wandered about with Xiang Rui, and in the courtyard they came upon a great stone stele. Its chipped corner looked familiar. Stepping closer, Chun Feng saw—it was indeed the very “Yang Gong Stele” that had accompanied her into the palace.
On the way to the palace, Lin Datian had heard that the Yang Gong Stele was a “good-official stele,” famous and precious. He said: “If we carve some words on it, wouldn’t our names be remembered for generations?”
Yu Xiujun laughed: “Then let’s carve Chun’er’s name.”
Lin Datian: “Does the character *Chun* have two horizontal strokes on top, or three…?”
Yu Xiujun: “Oh, Chun’er will be a princess one day. She’ll surely learn to write it herself, and then teach us.”
“…”
Chun Feng’s vision blurred in an instant. Tears spilled like broken pearls, pattering down. She leaned against the stele, shoulders shaking, and sobbed: “I miss you so much!”
Xiang Rui, flustered, her own eyes reddening, pleaded: “Princess! Don’t cry. If you’re wronged, tell me…”
But Chun Feng only wept, murmuring her longing between sobs. The stone was cold, making her grief heavier still. Glory and riches seemed hollow—what she wanted was to curl up in Yu Xiujun’s arms and be spoiled like a child.
“Wuu… wuu…”
“I miss them so much.”
“Wuu… hic… wuu…”
The autumn wind carried the girl’s hoarse lament, drifting softly into the ear, tickling, aching.
Li Xuan stood beneath the corridor, gazing toward the source of the wind, smoothing the sleeve rumpled by its touch.
Chang Ying and the eunuchs dared not make a sound. With little business that day, they had returned early to the Eastern Palace, only to find the princess crying. None knew what to do.
Chang Ying himself could find no solution. No one had ever dared to cry like this in the Eastern Palace. Even unseen, the sound alone was enough to shake its walls. As he hesitated, Li Xuan closed his eyes briefly, then gave a quiet order.
Chang Ying, startled, looked up at him, then bowed his head: “Yes, this servant will arrange it at once.”
…
That evening, Chun Feng returned to Furong Pavilion, her eyes and nose rimmed red, her spirits low and listless.
Hui’er worried: “Could Nanny Huang have struck the princess with her ruler?”
Fen’er clenched her fists in anger: “She wouldn’t dare! The princess is of noble blood!”
Xiang Rui, heavy-hearted, hushed the maids: “Shh, don’t mention it. Let the princess have her quiet.”
After supper, Chun Feng ignored the shadow play and went straight to bed. She resolved to spend the whole night in sorrow.
Hui’er tried to cheer her: “Princess, come look—this glass lamp turns on its own.”
“And here’s a jade rabbit.”
“…”
Even fine toys could not rouse her.
Then Xiang Rui thought of something and quickly said: “Men from the Western Regions brought a batch of camels. Their milk has already been delivered to the palace. This morning, our pavilion received some too.”
“That camel’s milk is wonderfully fragrant—smooth and rich, a little salty yet sweet, with a flavor beyond words.”
As Chun Feng listened, her ears perked up of their own accord, and her body sat upright without thinking. Her mouth, too, spoke on its own: “What is it like?”
Xiang Rui and the others brightened at once. They quickly sent someone to prepare a thick, steaming bowl of camel’s milk, which was soon brought in and served in a jade bowl.
Chun Feng sniffled, feeling tricked by Xiang Rui again—this stuff smelled rather fishy. But perhaps it would taste different. She lifted the bowl, just about to drink, when a young eunuch rushed in from outside and cried: “Princess, Lord Lin and Madam Yu have arrived!”
Chun Feng blinked in confusion: “Who are Lord Lin and Madam Yu?”
Before anyone could answer, Yu Xiujun had already hurried into Furong Pavilion, her face alight with joy: “Chun’er!”
Chun Feng’s eyes flew wide. Like a fledgling swallow darting back to the forest, she jumped forward and threw herself into her mother’s arms: “Mother!”