She reached out and gently stroked it, murmuring to herself, “Starting tomorrow, you won’t see me anymore.” The peony seemed to sense something, drooping even further, as if exuding a quiet sorrow.
Consort Su straightened, lifted her skirt, and hurried back inside. Along the way, a maid came to urge her, and she only replied, “Soon, I just need to change my shoes.” The maid waited impatiently outside. After another incense stick’s time had passed, a eunuch came to press her. “Oh my, why hasn’t Madam entered the palace yet? His Majesty is growing anxious.”
A palace maid knocked on the door. “Madam…” Inside was deathly still, not the slightest response.
Sensing something wrong, the eunuch pushed the door open abruptly. “Madam!”
“Ah—!” A shrill, hoarse scream rang out, making the palace maids tremble. “Madam… she… she has hanged herself…”
The maids instinctively looked up. The more timid ones fainted on the spot at the sight. The eunuch stumbled out, scrambling as he called to the attendants below, “Why aren’t you helping me up? Oh, Madam…” He wiped his tears. “Why did you choose such a path… how am I to answer to His Majesty…”
Two months after being relocated to Yanzhou, the peerless beauty of Shu, Lady Dingxiang, Consort Su, hanged herself. In the aftermath, countless storybooks about her spread far and wide. The surviving erotic painting of Lady Dingxiang was collected, admired, and lamented over by many, who sighed at the fleeting fate of beauty.
That very night, upon hearing of Consort Su’s death, Pei Hui flew into a rage. The Second Prince, Pei Shu, who had never supported the First Prince Pei Tai as crown prince, seized the opportunity to insist that she had taken her own life out of shame after the painting was leaked. His implication was clear: the painter from the First Prince’s residence had gone too far and driven Lady Dingxiang to her death.
Pei Hui sighed and said to Chancellor Zhang Xiliang, “Tai’er grew up without the guidance of his birth mother and does not know the weight of his actions. From now on, he need not remain confined to the study hall learning governance. Let him stay in his residence and cultivate his character through calligraphy.”
With those words, the First Prince was effectively removed from consideration as heir.
Upon hearing this, the First Prince removed his princely robes, bound thorny branches to his back, and knelt outside the study hall to plead for punishment. Pei Hui said indifferently, “I have nothing to say to him. Tell him to return.”
He also ordered the Ministry of Rites to arrange a grand burial for Lady Dingxiang. Yet counterfeit copies of the erotic painting continued to circulate among the people, sometimes even displayed and discussed openly in the streets. In a fit of fury, Pei Hui executed the painter Hu Jun.
But no matter how many lives were taken in recompense, the beauty’s life could not be restored.
The matter of appointing a crown prince in Beicang was also put on hold due to the eldest legitimate son’s misconduct.
When Mei Yan, far away in Lin’an, heard the news, he finally let out a deep breath of relief, thoroughly satisfied with his handiwork.
He had not even taken his seat at the table yet, and they already wanted to establish a crown prince. Dream on.
…
On the twenty-first day of the fourth month, Cheng Yunxiang passed by Sweetwater Alley and, on a whim, sent her visiting card into the Mei residence.
“My lord, Daoist Cheng has sent in her card,” a servant reported.
Cheng Yunxiang. Yunniang.
Mei Yan’s lips tightened slightly as he straightened his robes. “Quick, invite her in.”
Zhao Cheng grew alert. “My lord…”
“Wenchang, go wait in the study for a while,” Mei Yan said, already striding briskly toward the front courtyard to greet his guest.
Watching his back, Zhao Cheng sighed. Perhaps he should find someone to calculate whether his lord was fated to encounter a calamity of beauty.
Cheng Yunxiang had only intended to drop off a card in passing and arrange a meeting for another day, but unexpectedly, Mei Yan himself came out to receive her, impeccably dressed. The surprise made her steps falter slightly. “Young Master Mei, I have been presumptuous.”
“Not at all,” Mei Yan said with a faint smile. “Daoist Cheng’s visit brings honor to my humble home.”
He looked at her, and in that fleeting moment, his gaze held three parts joy, three parts helplessness, and four parts fervor. Cheng Yunxiang followed him into the reception hall and sat with composure. “It was only because Master Fan mentioned Young Master Mei a few days ago that I dared to seek your acquaintance. I did not expect you to be so gentle and approachable.”
“You flatter me,” Mei Yan said. “My courtesy name is Xifeng. If you do not mind, you may call me.”
Cheng Yunxiang felt slightly embarrassed. “…I would not dare to be so forward, Young Master Mei.”
“It does not matter,” Mei Yan replied warmly. “Does Daoist Cheng have a courtesy name?”
She smiled and shook her head. “I have never taken one.”
“By the way, Young Master Mei,” she said, steering the conversation to business, “I recently visited Master Fan, who said you are his most outstanding student, especially skilled in matters of governance. Lately, I have been reading a text, Xie Xuan’s Memorial on the Strategy for Hebei, and there are many points I do not understand. I hope to seek your guidance.”
Her plan was simple. She would listen to Mei Yan’s insights, and if she heard anything remarkable, she would probe whether he possessed ambitions like Xie Xuan. If he did, she would further inquire whether he intended to enter official service.
Cheng Yunxiang’s visit filled Mei Yan with delight. In that moment, there was no empire, no struggle for the crown prince’s seat, only the stirring of a gentleman captivated by a graceful lady.
Yet upon hearing her words, it was as though he could not believe his ears. The affectionate smile on his lips froze, and his expression tightened. “You overpraise me, Daoist. I am fond of poetry and prose, especially Tao Yuanming’s line, ‘Plucking chrysanthemums by the eastern fence, I gaze leisurely at the southern mountains.’ As for the memorial you mentioned, I have only skimmed it and have no insights worth sharing.”
Cheng Yunxiang fell silent. Now she understood what Fan Dun had meant by saying Mei Yan might not be the person she sought. She forced an awkward smile. “Young Master Mei is truly modest.”
She understood now. He had no ambition whatsoever to serve the country. There was no point in continuing the conversation. After a few polite exchanges, she rose to take her leave.
It seemed the Seven Lights Inkstone would not find a recipient anytime soon.
After seeing her out, Mei Yan said to Zhao Cheng, “So there are people in Later Yue searching for someone like Xie Xuan, hoping to prolong the state’s fate.”
Zhao Cheng replied, “This time, who could be behind Daoist Cheng?”
It could not possibly be Cheng Yunxiang herself. What could a young lady understand?
“Last time it was Fu Xian,” Mei Yan said. “Could it be him again?”
Zhao Cheng nodded. “They were seen riding in the same carriage not long ago, and servants from the Fu residence have visited Ganquan Temple several times. It is not impossible that this is his idea.”
Mei Yan let out a cold laugh. “He dares to dream.” He then urged Zhao Cheng to deal with the man as soon as possible.
…
Two days later, at dusk toward the end of the fourth month, light rain tapped softly against the window lattice. The palace attendant Kong Yu arrived at Ganquan Temple and said to Cheng Yunxiang, “Daoist Cheng, Her Highness requests your presence in the palace.”
Cheng Yunxiang was startled. “At this hour?” Would they not need to coordinate with the Palace Affairs Bureau?
During her stay at Ganquan Temple, though she longed to see her elder sister, the formalities of passing through the palace administration were cumbersome and conspicuous. She feared bringing trouble upon Consort Chen, so she had restrained herself.
Instead, she spent her days reading or crafting hairpins from loose beads she had brought. To her surprise, she had developed quite a knack for it, producing two or three delicate silver hairpins adorned with beadwork.
Kong Yu smiled and nodded. “His Majesty has granted permission.”
“Please wait a moment,” Cheng Yunxiang said. “I will change at once.”
She soon emerged in a fresh Daoist robe. Liufang held a large oil-paper umbrella. “Let’s go.”
As they left Ganquan Temple, the spring rain had swollen the waters. Along the riverbanks, shaded by willows, small boats drifted leisurely. The breeze stirred the boatmen’s sleeves, and the scenery felt lively yet tranquil.
By the time her shoes were lightly damp with rain, they had reached the Golden Water Bridge outside the inner palace. Raindrops fell sparsely upon the river’s surface, where gold and silver carvings of fish and dragonflies seemed to shimmer and move with the ripples.
“A few days ago, the third young lady of the Cheng family entered the palace to visit Her Highness,” Kong Yu said softly. “She is staying here for a short while. You will see her soon.”
Her tone was gentle, yet it caused Cheng Yunxiang’s heart to skip. Why had Cheng Hanxiang come to the palace?
She no longer admired the scenery and quickened her pace toward the Jiaofang Hall where her sister resided.
As soon as she entered, she saw Cheng Zhixiang standing under the corridor, dressed in a pale purple blouse embroidered with peonies in gold thread, paired with a plain pomegranate skirt that accentuated her slender waist. Her hair was styled simply with a single jade plum blossom hairpin, and there was a trace of worry on her face.
“Elder Sister,” Cheng Yunxiang called softly.
Cheng Zhixiang smiled and beckoned. “Come inside.”
The two sisters sat in the warm chamber of the side hall. Cheng Zhixiang reached out to touch her Daoist robe. “Did you get wet?” She ordered a brazier to be brought in to dry it and dispel the damp.
Cheng Yunxiang wore the attire of a novice Daoist: a brown cross-collared robe, plain skirt, gray outer shawl, and dark boots, with her hair bound under a cap.
Feeling the slightly coarse texture of the robe, Cheng Zhixiang’s eyes reddened. “You have suffered, Yunniang.” At such a splendid age, she should have been dressed in fine garments, not living this austere life.
Cheng Yunxiang smiled. “Elder Sister, once I cultivate for a few years and deepen my practice, I’ll be able to wear the hibiscus crown. That one is beautiful.”
“You…” Cheng Zhixiang could not help but laugh. “You always act as though it does not matter.”
“Elder Sister, you suddenly summoned me,” Cheng Yunxiang said, noticing Cheng Hanxiang was not present. “Is something the matter?”
Cheng Zhixiang nodded faintly and called beyond the beaded curtain, “Where has Hanxiang gone? Go fetch her.”
Before Cheng Hanxiang arrived, Cheng Yunxiang asked, “Why did the Third Sister enter the palace?”
Cheng Zhixiang replied, “Father said he found a highly effective fertility prescription and had her deliver it.”
Of course, it was only a pretext.
Cheng Yunxiang fell silent.
Soon, Cheng Hanxiang entered. Seeing Cheng Yunxiang seated beside Consort Chen, she lowered her head, appearing slightly uneasy. “The Second Sister has come.”
Cheng Yunxiang looked at her carefully. Having come of age, Cheng Hanxiang had grown even more beautiful, her features soft and alluring. She wore a lotus-colored blouse, a lake-green pleated skirt, and a light outer jacket that accentuated her delicate figure, evoking tenderness in anyone who saw her.
Cheng Yunxiang glanced at Cheng Zhixiang, her eyes asking silently: She… was she sent by the Cheng family to bear an imperial heir for you?
Calculating the time, it had only been a little over a month since Cheng Zhixiang had confided her plan to borrow a womb. Before Cheng Yunxiang could even dissuade her, the Cheng family had already acted and succeeded.