The thirty-seventh year of Kangxi, early summer.
A new batch of mutton had just arrived at the Imperial Kitchen. A passing young eunuch noticed it and remarked nosily, “It’s already the Summer Solstice, yet they’re still delivering this much mutton? How unusual.”
“What do you know, you monkey cub?” said the eunuch in charge of inventory. “This is mutton sent as tribute from Khalkha Mongolia. Even the Emperor praised it, so he specifically ordered some to be sent into the palace.”
Khalkha Mongolia… Associating this with the rumors that had been spreading like wildfire through the palace lately, the young eunuch nodded with a look of realization. He was about to slip away when he was called back.
“I see you’ve got nothing to do, so here’s a task for you. This large portion of mutton is designated for Yikun Palace. Make a trip there and see how the masters want it prepared.”
The young eunuch wished he could slap his own mouth. Why did he have to speak up!
Normally, running an errand to Yikun Palace was a stroke of good luck. After all, the lady of Yikun Palace was Yi Fei, who deeply held the Emperor’s heart. One trip could earn a reward, and perhaps even a chance to be noticed. However, at this particular juncture, with mutton sent from Mobei of all things, it was hard to say whether it was a blessing or a curse.
Seeing the Yikun Gate from a distance, the young eunuch put on a forced smile and performed a salute to the two gatekeepers. “Greetings, elder brothers. I am from the Imperial Kitchen. Fresh mutton from Khalkha Mongolia arrived today, and I’ve come to seek instructions from Mistress Yi on how to properly prepare it.”
A gatekeeper on the right curled his lip upon hearing this. “Wait here.” Another with a long face lazily walked inside.
The young eunuch bowed and scraped, standing aside with a smile and his hands lowered.
After waiting for about the time it takes for a stick of incense to burn, two more young eunuchs arrived, carrying a red-lacquered bucket. They stopped before the Yikun Gate and gave their greetings as usual. “We are from the Fruit Room.”
the gatekeeper chuckled. “Oh, what a coincidence today. Why, do you have fresh tribute from Khalkha Mongolia too?”
“No,” the eunuch from the Fruit Room said, somewhat puzzled. “The Emperor has pacified the Dzungars, and Hami has sent melons as tribute. There are only a few in this batch. The Emperor specifically ordered that, aside from the Empress Dowager’s palace, a portion be sent to Yikun Palace.”
As they spoke, the eunuch who had gone in to deliver the message strolled back out and understood the situation. “Fine, one person from the Fruit Room come with me. I’ll lead you both inside.”
The young eunuch followed him in. After a winding path, they first reached the side rooms behind the west wing, which served as the resting quarters for the palace staff on duty. Upon crossing the threshold of the first small room, they saw a eunuch sitting and drinking tea. He wore a mandarin jacket and high-topped boots—attire reserved for head and chief eunuchs in the palace. A young apprentice stood beside him, fanning him.
The gatekeeper spoke with great respect, “Grandfather Zhang, this is the person from the Imperial Kitchen I mentioned.”
Zhang Qiyong, the head eunuch of Yikun Palace, nodded and said, “Her Ladyship is currently copying sutras. You all wait here.” While they waited, he questioned the two in detail about the quantity of the rewards, whether other palaces had received any, and how much they had been given.
They waited for a while until a young eunuch came running in a hurry, saying, “The door curtains of the hall have been rolled up.” This was the signal that the master in the hall was taking a break.
Upon hearing this, Zhang Qiyong immediately set down his tea bowl, straightened his attire, and led the eunuchs from the Imperial Kitchen and the Fruit Room, along with his apprentice, toward the main hall.
Once he crossed the threshold of the bedchamber, the young eunuch from the kitchen dared not look around, keeping his head bowed low. The central room was covered with a pale yellow “twin lotus” palace carpet, which felt soft underfoot and muffled every sound.
“Mistress, the Emperor has you in his thoughts. Fresh Khalkha mutton has arrived at the Imperial Kitchen, and the Fruit Room has received new melons. Both were sent specifically to our Yikun Palace. How would you like them prepared?” Zhang Qiyong asked.
A golden hairpiece jingled softly, followed by a pleasant female voice speaking at a slightly brisk pace: “Chill the melons with ice; we’ll have them as a late-night snack later. As for the mutton, go ask Fourth Girl.”
the “Fourth Girl” Yi Fei spoke of was her foster daughter and biological niece, the Fourth Princess of the Kangxi Emperor. Since the death of the Fourth Princess’s birth mother—Yi Fei’s sister, Guo Guiren—the Fourth Princess had been raised in Yi Fei’s palace.
Zhang Qiyong acknowledged the order, dismissed the person from the Fruit Room, and led only the eunuch from the Imperial Kitchen toward the rear hall.
Yikun Palace was a two-entry courtyard complex. The Fourth Princess lived in the eastern side hall of the second courtyard.
Just as they rounded the narrow passageway, a faint fragrance wafted toward them, growing stronger as they moved forward. It was the scent of lilies.
Zhang Qiyong, who was leading the way, suddenly stopped and performed a palace salute. “Blessings to the Fourth Princess.”
This Fourth Princess rarely moved about the palace except during festivals. It was the first time the young eunuch had the chance to see this lady, so he couldn’t help but feel curious and stole a quick glance.
The window frames of the eastern side hall were all wide open. The early summer sunlight filtered through the lattice, shining upon the young woman. The Fourth Princess, Muxue, sat by the window with her back perfectly straight. She held a book in her hands, reading with deep concentration. On the rosewood square table she leaned against stood a white-glazed “double-six” vase holding lilies in fresh water. No wonder the entire hall was filled with their fragrance.
She wore a moon-white surcoat with subtle patterns, and her hair was done in a very simple coiled braid. Aside from three small pearl hairpins tucked into the braid, she wore no other jewelry. She possessed a hazy beauty, like moonlight shimmering on water—a simple impression that wasn’t particularly striking, a beauty that seemed almost plain.
Zhang Qiyong repeated the report he had given to Yi Fei to the Fourth Princess.
She will probably say “anything is fine,” Zhang Qiyong thought absentmindedly. When the Fourth Princess first moved to Yikun Palace, he had been ordered to ask her many times what she wanted to eat or what she wanted for entertainment. This mistress would only reply in a thin voice, “Anything is fine.” Over time, that procedure had been dropped. Everything was simply arranged for her.
Muxue set down her book and said slowly, “If we must eat mutton, let’s have a dish of mutton noodles.”
“Mutton noodles?” Zhang Qiyong was slightly stunned. This was not a standard dish prepared in the palace.
He turned his gaze toward the young eunuch from the Imperial Kitchen. “Did you hear that clearly?”
The young eunuch bowed even lower. “Does the Fourth Princess mean rice noodles?”
“Yes,” Muxue said. “Take southern tribute rice and grind it into flour, wash and soak it to make a slurry, then form it into the shape of noodles. Use a well-simmered broth, add thinly sliced mutton and a few drops of sesame oil. The most important thing is the chili oil; it must be fried in sheep fat over a low heat until it is crispy and fragrant. Finally, sprinkle a handful of sesame seeds over it and pour it into the mutton noodles.”
The young eunuch memorized this carefully and agreed, though he felt a bit overwhelmed.
Muxue sensed his slight hesitation, likely fearing he would be punished if he failed to prepare a new dish correctly on short notice.
To put his mind at ease, Muxue added another sentence: “It’s alright. Just give it a try. As long as it’s edible, it’s fine. Don’t feel burdened.”
The young eunuch naturally understood her meaning. He bowed and kowtowed gratefully before withdrawing.
Once the outsider had left, Zhang Qiyong took two steps closer to the window and smiled. “The Princess is in good spirits today; I rarely see you order a specific dish.”
Muxue pursed her lips slightly. “It’s nothing. I just suddenly thought that before leaving the palace, I might as well try the Imperial Kitchen’s skill. Later on, it might be hard to taste it again.”
The day before yesterday, the Empress Dowager had summoned the Fourth Princess to Ningshou Palace to deliver a message. She was to be betrothed to the Khalkha Mongol Prince, Dondob Dorji. Once Khan Father returned in triumph from his campaign, the formal decree would be issued.
It was standard practice for princesses to be sent for Fumeng. However, the Khalkha Mongolia where Muxue was to be wed was exceptionally far compared to the princesses who had previously married into the Khorchin—it was in the distant Mobei. A journey of three thousand li, where no old friends remain beyond the pass. Because of this, the palace servants around Muxue were somewhat indignant. Her nurse, Nanny Xu, had been weeping in private at night—for her young mistress, the Fourth Princess; for her late mistress, Guo Guiren; and for herself.
As a member of Yikun Palace staff, Zhang Qiyong feared inviting bad luck upon hearing the Fourth Princess mention the Fumeng marriage. He shifted the topic with a smile. “The lilies in your hall are blooming beautifully, Princess. The fragrance can even be smelled faintly in the front hall. Her Ladyship also said it smells wonderful.”
Muxue glanced at him and followed the change of subject. “Is Mother Yi busy?”
“Her Ladyship was copying sutras just now; she should be free by now.”
Muxue nodded and stood up to walk out of the room. “I shall go pay my respects to Mother Yi.”
Although they lived in the same palace, Muxue rarely went to the front hall. Firstly, Yi Fei enjoyed great favor and often had to attend to the Emperor; secondly, Yi Fei had raised three princes of her own and had limited energy. Muxue was very conscious of her status as someone living under another’s roof and did not wish to trouble Yi Fei. Furthermore, Muxue had never wanted much involvement with the people or affairs of the Forbidden City.
In the ten years since she had transmigrated to this Kangxi era, she had been like a tourist who had lost her way in the night. With an indifferent and nonchalant attitude, she had woven a veil of green gauze around herself, watching all people and events through its indistinct haze. One day, one year, ten years—countless monotonous and boring days overlapped, feeling like an isolation with no end date.
Yet even such a life would not let her be.
On the day she heard the news of the Fumeng marriage, Muxue’s face had been calm. She had expressed her gratitude in the Empress Dowager’s palace without a ripple of emotion, as if the one being sent far away for a political marriage was not herself, but some unrelated stranger.
Only at night, when the entire Forbidden City was deep in sleep, did she hold a small silver knife to her throat behind her green gauze curtains. The only word screaming frantically in her mind was “die.”
If she died, could she go home?
To be mysteriously thrown hundreds of years into the past, to be locked in this palace for years, forced to suppress her free heart to act out this nonsense of sovereign and subject, father and son, and now to be married off to a man she had never met in a completely foreign place—why bother continuing to exist here?
The cold blade pressed against the warmth of her neck. Her pulse jumped like a small drum, beat after beat.
She wanted to die.
She thought expressionlessly.
Just die and be done with it. A voice in her head screamed wildly.
But why was she so slow to press the blade down?
The desperate stalemate lasted for an unknown amount of time. In her daze, she suddenly caught a scent of flowers—faint at first, then growing stronger.
It was probably the lilies blooming, Muxue thought.
In that instant, the fragrance seemed to travel through distant time, descending wrapped in memories: the lilies swaying in the yard of her old home, the azure sky, the resident school dog lounging lazily in the sunlight—its expression didn’t seem much different from the palace cats basking in the sun…
All those insignificant, fragmented, and beautiful moments pelted her like a summer downpour, eventually causing her to lower the knife in exhaustion.
She wanted to die, but the lilies of June kept her alive.
Let it be like this for now.
Hold on a little longer; perhaps something good will happen? If it really doesn’t work out, then so be it.