After returning home, Cheng Yunxiang carefully went through the small items she had bought, one by one, before wrapping them up, ready to bring them into the palace the next day for her elder sister.
That night, she slept soundly in the first half, but in the latter half she could no longer fall asleep, drifting between drowsiness and wakefulness. As a result, she rose before dawn and sat before her dressing table.
Outside the window, the morning breeze stirred the willows.
She opened the wardrobe carved with daylily patterns, revealing rows of splendid garments in bright colors, made from fine materials and embroidered with exquisite craftsmanship. After scanning them, she chose a light goose-yellow cross-collared top, paired with a pleated skirt patterned with painted butterflies, and added a green shawl. She had her maid arrange her hair into hanging loops and adorned herself with a plum-blossom-patterned set of ornaments. The gold hairpiece set with red gemstones had been custom-made by her at a jewelry shop. In the bronze mirror, the reflection of a graceful lady appeared at once, her brows delicate and her features refined, leaving the maids staring in admiration.
“Miss is truly beautiful.”
Among all the noble ladies they had seen, the two young ladies of the Cheng family were the most beautiful. Consort Chen’s breathtaking beauty needed no mention, and Cheng Yunxiang, at twelve or thirteen, had once had a round face like a small silver basin, with bright, dark eyes. As she grew, her face lengthened into an oval shape, her pupils like the finest ink-black pearls resting in a pool of autumn water, lively and radiant with every glance.
No wonder the people of Lin’an said that both daughters of the Cheng family possessed peerless beauty.
In the front courtyard, Old Madam Cheng and Chen Baomiao changed into their formal court attire, fastening their fourth-rank gold pheasant hairpins. Once they were properly dressed, they had someone summon Cheng Yunxiang, and the three women boarded a carriage adorned with silver ornaments, heading toward the imperial palace together.
As they set out, a maid mentioned that Cheng Hanxiang and Cheng Lixiang had been crying, lamenting that they were born of concubines and not from the main wife’s womb, that they were unloved and could not even see their elder sister.
Cheng Yunxiang was left speechless.
Was this really about legitimacy? It was simply that their mothers were foolish and scheming. Who else could they blame?
The carriage rolled along the long avenue, and through the thin gauze curtain, the bustling prosperity outside came fully into view.
The streets stretched in all directions, orderly and interconnected, with countless pavilions and towers rising in staggered rows. Shops displayed a dazzling array of goods, while Persian merchants moved among them, busy transporting wares overseas for profit.
It was truly a scene of dazzling wealth and extravagant splendor.
After about the time it took to burn an incense stick, the outer gates of the imperial city came into sight. The palace was divided into inner and outer sections, constructed at the beginning of the late Emperor Song Ting’s reign, and had stood for nearly forty years.
Magnificent and resplendent.
Though this was not Cheng Yunxiang’s first time seeing the palace, she felt the same awe each time.
The carriage circled the main gate from afar and stopped at a side entrance on the western side. Once the gates opened, Old Madam Cheng presented their calling card, and a young eunuch immediately led them inside. Upon entering the palace, they changed to a palace carriage, which carried them slowly and steadily toward the inner city.
A Golden Water River wound gently around the vermilion rooftops and jade tiles of the inner palace.
Within it shimmered golden reflections, for this was near the Imperial Workshop, where skilled craftsmen produced items and ornaments for the royal family. Tiny golden fish, silver fish, and jade-carved lotus leaves were placed there for display, making for a pleasing sight along the way.
At the southwestern gate of the inner city, a palace attendant named Kong Yu was already waiting. As soon as they descended from the carriage, she stepped forward to greet them.
“Old Madam, Madam, Miss, you have finally arrived. Her Highness has been thinking of you since last night.”
After leading them inside, they transferred to sedan chairs and were carried deeper into the palace. The inner palace was divided into three main sections. At the front lay Jianzhang Palace, which contained fourteen halls, including Mingluan Hall where the Emperor held court. Behind it to the east was Weiyang Palace, with seven halls where the Crown Prince and adult princes resided. To the west stood Changle Palace, with eleven halls housing the Emperor and his consorts.
Lush greenery filled the palace grounds, with glimpses of grand halls appearing among the trees. Walking within, one encountered a tower every few steps and a pavilion every ten, corridors winding like silk ribbons, eaves rising sharply. At a glance, it resembled a maze, which was particularly unfriendly to someone as directionally challenged as Cheng Yunxiang.
Upon reaching Changle Palace, Kong Yu gestured toward the largest hall. “That is Changle Hall, where the Empress Dowager resides.”
Empress Dowager Shen was the late Emperor Song Ting’s Empress and the birth mother of Emperor Song Yu. After his ascension, she was honored as Empress Dowager.
Kong Yu then pointed to a nearby hall to the left. “That is Zhaoyang Hall, where Consort Fan resides.” As there was no Empress yet, Consort Fan was temporarily managing the affairs of the six palaces.
The Cheng family women expressed their thanks.
After crossing an arched bridge, they saw peonies in full bloom, with bright butterflies fluttering among them. On the plaque above the palace gate were the words “Jiaofang.” The Cheng women felt their hearts tighten slightly.
This was the place.
Consort Chen, Cheng Zhixiang, resided in Jiaofang Hall.
“Lower the sedan,” Kong Yu said. “Her Highness resides here.”
The Cheng women descended with composure and followed her inside.
The further they walked, the steadier Cheng Yunxiang’s step became, her movements composed and dignified. The palace maids glanced at her, thinking that the Consort’s younger sister carried herself with remarkable grace.
Old Madam Cheng noticed as well and was thoroughly pleased.
“Your Highness, Old Madam, Madam, and Miss Cheng have arrived,” a maid announced, the faint sound of ornaments chiming as she walked.
Behind the swaying crystal curtain, Consort Chen, with cloud-like hair, snow-white skin, a slender waist, and captivating eyes, wore a golden-patterned gauze gown. She was idly playing with newly presented red and blue gemstones from the eastern regions, but upon hearing the announcement, she immediately rose and came out to greet them.
“Grandmother, Mother, Yunxiang—”
Before the Cheng women could bow, she quickly supported them and led them inside, holding their hands. “Was your journey into the palace smooth?”
“Very smooth,” Old Madam Cheng replied, taking her granddaughter’s hand and examining her closely. “Zhuru, are you fully recovered?”
Cheng Zhixiang answered lightly, “I am better today.”
Chen Baomiao held her arm, her voice trembling. “Mother thinks you have grown thinner.”
She looked as though she might burst into tears at any moment.
“You say that every time you see me,” Cheng Zhixiang said with a smile.
Chen Baomiao was left speechless.
Standing nearby, Cheng Yunxiang observed her sister’s radiant complexion, like freshly blossomed peach flowers, her skin glowing and full of vitality. All her previous worries melted away, and she silently prayed in her heart that her sister was truly well.
A gentle breeze carried the scent of early spring flowers into the hall, mingled with a faint trace of wine.
It was plum blossom wine, Cheng Zhixiang’s favorite.
It seemed that the previous night, she and Song Yu had been drinking, composing poetry, listening to music, and watching performances in Jiaofang Hall.
There was not the slightest sign of illness.
Cheng Yunxiang glanced at her again, a thought suddenly arising. Perhaps her sister had not been ill at all, but had simply used it as an excuse to summon them into the palace.
But why?
Was she homesick, or had she encountered some difficulty?
After exchanging a few pleasantries, before they could ask further, a maid suddenly announced, “His Majesty has arrived.”
The Cheng women quickly rose to welcome the Emperor.
The young emperor entered gracefully, dressed in a black dragon robe embroidered with gold thread. His features were striking, his hair like lacquer, his skin fair as jade, and his bearing refined and noble.
Truly, he possessed an exceptional appearance. No wonder he had been famed since youth as the most charming man in Lin’an.
Especially with that overly relaxed expression, as though the words “the most carefree nobleman under heaven” were written plainly across his face.
A supreme ruler who need not trouble himself with governance, his fortune was almost enviable to the point of resentment.
As for why Song Yu was so fortunate, one had to begin with his father, the late Emperor Song Ting.
Song Ting had ruled for thirty-eight years, a strong and strict ruler who tightly controlled power and governed both state and officials with skill. Just when everything seemed perfect, his most favored eldest legitimate son, Song Shi, died suddenly of illness twelve years ago. Left with no choice, he turned to his younger son Song Yu, who was fond only of poetry, music, and wine, and elevated him to Crown Prince. Knowing his son lacked the ability to rule, he carefully selected four regent ministers before his death: Fan Ying, Left Chancellor and Minister of Revenue; Pan Renzhi, Right Chancellor and Minister of War; Xie Qi, Minister of Personnel; and Liu Yi, Chief Minister of the Court of Judicial Review. All four came from great aristocratic families, loyal and capable, ensuring stability for the new Emperor.
At the time, many doubted this arrangement, predicting conflicts and power struggles among the four.
Yet since Song Yu’s ascension, they had each performed their duties well, maintaining order and silencing critics.
They had also allowed the Emperor himself to live as a carefree nobleman, free of worry.
With the country at peace, he attended court perfunctorily each day, then spent the rest of his time in Jiaofang Hall, indulging in refined pleasures with Consort Chen, living a life akin to immortals.
He had no worries, but others did. Some scholars feared that over time he would become a mere figurehead while the four ministers consolidated power. They frequently submitted memorials urging the appointment of more officials to balance authority.
Most of these remonstrations never reached him, and even when they did, he paid them little mind. His interests lay in poetry and romance, not governance.
…
“Your Majesty, fresh waxberries from Dongkui, picked at dawn, have arrived at the palace gates,” a young eunuch reported from outside the curtain.
Song Yu looked at Cheng Zhixiang with deep affection. “Zhuru, I had some fresh waxberries brought in. Would you like to try them?”
He sat casually, leaning slightly forward as he spoke, his gaze level. There was none of the imposing authority of a ruler, but rather the gentle demeanor of a noble young master with a hint of indulgence.
Waxberries were Cheng Zhixiang’s favorite.
Several palace maids entered gracefully, carrying crystal dishes filled with plump, dewy waxberries, likely picked in the middle of the night and transported swiftly by boat.
Cheng Yunxiang thought silently that such luxury must consume immense resources.
The maids first presented the fruit to Song Yu. He picked one up with his long fingers and offered it to Cheng Zhixiang. “Zhuru.”
She seemed momentarily distracted before accepting it, lowering her gaze as she took a bite. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Cheng Yunxiang noticed something unusual in her sister’s expression and grew more certain that something was on her mind.
She quietly picked up a waxberry and tasted it, its sweetness tinged with a hint of tartness, delicious beyond compare.
But then—
“Your Majesty—”
“Report from Runzhou: envoys from the Emperor of Beicang have passed through Runzhou and may arrive in Lin’an as early as tomorrow…”
The words came from a young eunuch in worn attire.
The Beicang envoys had arrived.
The lingering sweetness vanished instantly.