The Moon in the Palace (The Empress of Bright Moon Duology) (31 page)

the
Eighteenth Year
of
Emperor Taizong’s Reign
of
Peaceful Prospect

WINTER

Soon after I returned to the palace, the Emperor finally opened his eyes. He was extremely weak and unable to speak. All of us, concubines ranked seventh degree and above, were relieved of our usual duties and ordered to stay with him day and night, caring for him. A month later, he was able to take some broth and herbal drinks and sit with assistance. Gradually, he uttered words, though with a thick and strange slur, and held his meetings in a hall adjacent to his bedchamber. He could not hold his calligraphy brush, so he met the Duke and dictated to him. The Uncle and the Chancellor were not summoned, so I did not need to spy on them.

The New Year came. The whole kingdom was immersed in celebrations, and the Emperor took an opportunity to rest, although he ordered the word spread that he was wholesome and riding horses, for fear of doubts over his health.

The Noble Lady planted trusted people to watch the Pure Lady and even her maids. Every day, their movements were reported to the Noble Lady and her son, who analyzed them carefully. “If she sends a signal, a letter, or a message, she’ll go meet Jewel’s spirit,” she said confidently.

I was not sure. A letter would certainly incriminate the Pure Lady, but what if she did not send out a letter? What if it was something that we could not see?

The Pure Lady seemed to be aware she was being watched. She did nothing more than sit in the sun, play
weiqi
with her maids, or stroll in the open, her cat in her arms. When the weather was fine, she went to the Eastern Palace to admire the plum blossoms. Once, she stopped at the stable to watch a mare giving birth to a foal. I thought it strange she would go to the stable, Taizi’s haunt, but she did not speak or spit at the heir, as I had expected she would do. She only watched the foal, they said.

Something was wrong, terribly wrong, but I did not know what.

The servants appeared at ease. Most of them believed the Emperor would live. Here and there, they greeted each other, even smiled at times, their cheeks red with holiday celebration and their stomachs sweetened by glutinous rice cakes, dried dates, and persimmons.

Plum mentioned Pheasant had wedded Lady Wang in his house outside the palace. I wished to hear more about the wedding, the bride, Pheasant, and how he thought of his new bride, but Plum did not elaborate other than saying Lady Wang was very tall.

Lantern Festival arrived. Lanterns carved in the shapes of deer, rabbits, and turtles paraded in the Inner Court and illuminated every corner. Paper artworks crafted as eagles, parrots, and swallows hung below the houses’ eaves. Everywhere, the colors of red, mauve, indigo, green, and other iridescent hues greeted me. The last day of the long New Year holiday, the festival of lights, was supposed to bring us luck for the entire year.

I was hanging two paper cardinals in the garden when I glimpsed Pheasant at the gate. He put his hand on his left shoulder to attract my attention. I was surprised. Since he lived outside the palace and was married, I seldom saw him. Sometimes I would catch a glimpse of him gazing at me when he came to visit the Emperor, and that look would stay with me for days. I would walk in the corridors thinking of the intensity of his gaze and then go to sleep, pretending he was holding me, not his wife.

But when there were people around, he rarely looked in my direction, let alone asked to see me in private.

I nodded slightly to let him know that I had seen him and then turned away, waiting for an opportunity. Finally, a group of eunuchs came over, carrying a tree decorated with gold leaves. People swarmed over to admire it. I slipped out.

I went down the bridge and found him behind a garden rock at the back of a hall.

He stood in the rock’s shadow. The lanterns cast a pool of red light near his feet. He was the same Pheasant for whom I had waited in the pavilion. But he looked solemn, solitary, and much older. I was worried.

“What’s wrong?” I walked to him.

He was not himself. He fidgeted, and his feet kept kicking the ground. At my voice, he straightened, turning around to make sure no one was watching us. “I’m sorry to put you at risk again. This is the last time I will ask you to meet me, I promise.”

“Don’t worry. No one saw me.” The Emperor, his high-ranking ministers, and the Ladies were celebrating the festival in the feasting hall in the Outer Palace, and many servants were there as well.

He placed his hand on the rock. There was a pause before he said, “I came to warn you, Mei. It’s not safe here.”

I could not help myself. I stepped closer to him. “What’s going on?”

“Something disastrous is going to happen. You must leave the hall. Now. Run to your chamber as fast as you can and bolt the door. Or”—he took off his hat and combed his hand through his hair—“go to our pavilion. Somewhere unknown and safe, and hide there until tomorrow night.”

Was the Pure Lady about to take action? “Why?”

“It’s my brother.” He inhaled deeply. “I think he’s out of his mind.”

I was relieved it was not about the Pure Lady. “Taizi,” I said. He was deeply unhappy; we all knew that. “What is happening with him?”

“I found weapons hidden away. Weapons. You know what I am saying, don’t you? Lancers, swords, armors, bows, and arrows.” He balled his hands in fists. “Bundles and bundles of them, in a stable.”

I gasped, fully aware of its meaning. The law banned people from bearing arms, even princes. “Is he planning something? Why would he amass such a large amount of weapons?”

Pheasant’s head drooped. “It’s because of the flutist. I know it. Father should never have ordered Taizi to kill him.”

“It’s too late to say that. What is he going to do with all those weapons?”

A wave of laughter wafted in the night air. I could not tell where it came from. Both Pheasant and I stood still.

“It might be nothing. He likes to try weapons. Perhaps now he wants to become a swordsman.”

His voice was raspy, and his chest heaved rapidly. I wanted to pull him into my arms and smooth his hair. I wanted to believe him, to tell him that was exactly why Taizi had bought the weapons and smuggled them into the palace. But the word
treason
pummeled my head, and I knew I could not indulge myself or Pheasant.

“Forget it.” Pheasant kicked the ground again. “I’m just fooling myself. He’s meeting a guard before dawn breaks.”

“A guard?” My body tensed.

“The leader of his army.” Pheasant smiled wryly. “I overheard him talking with his men in the stable. He arranged for his men to replace the guards posted in the Outer Palace so none of my father’s army outside can enter the palace. He even bribed the sentries in the watchtower.”

“He’s going to revolt now?”

Pheasant wiped his face. The red light reflected in his tormented eyes. “I need to talk sense into him.”

“What?”

“I’m his brother. I cannot watch him lose his head. He’s the heir, for Heaven’s sake. The kingdom is his no matter what. Why would he challenge our father?”

“Has Taizi forgiven you for the flutist?” He did not speak, and my heart sank. “He is still angry. Why do you think he’ll listen to you? You cannot go, Pheasant. Taizi has lost his mind. Talking to him will not change anything.”

“But if I don’t talk to him, who will? What kind of brother am I? He can’t revolt against my father. It’s suicide.”

Poor Pheasant. Caught between the stones of his father and brother. “Maybe you should tell the Emperor.”

“My father?” Pheasant raised his head toward the direction of the Outer Palace, where the Emperor and his people feasted. He shook his head. “I can’t! Do you remember what happened when Taizi had a fight with Prince Yo? He exiled Yo. What do you think my father will do if he knows about Taizi’s weapons? He’ll kill him!”

I grasped Pheasant’s hand. “But you can’t go, Pheasant. This is rebellion. Taizi wants revenge. He is not going to listen to you. If you tell him, if he knows you are aware of his plan, he’ll kill you. It doesn’t matter that you’re his brother.”

“I have no choice.”

I looked into his eyes. “Listen to me. Don’t rush into this. Let’s think about it. Go to your room, drink some wine, and go to bed. Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe he’ll forget this.”

Pheasant faced me, and his hand swept aside my fallen hair. A shadow crossed his eyes, and the fence of his eyelashes trembled. For a moment, his square jaw seemed to melt, but his lips tightened and his immaculate face transformed into a perfect sculpture of resolution.

He cupped my face. “I want you, sweet face. I hope you know. Only you.”

My heart softened. He loved me still, even though he had Lady Wang. “I do.”

“I’ve never regretted it. Do you?”

I shook my head, pushing back my tears.

“I have to stop my brother. I have to save him.”

I wanted to cry. “No…”

He dropped his hand and went down the corridor. His thin frame emerged into the pool of lantern light that bled like rivers of blood. Then the night’s darkness swallowed him.

I walked back to the garden, where the eunuchs had set up the golden tree. I strung the lanterns in threes and fives and hung them on the golden branches, but I hardly saw them. What would happen to Pheasant? Would Taizi listen to him? Or would he kill him? I shivered. Of course he would. He would never let Pheasant reveal his secret.

I pushed the scattered lanterns away from my feet and ran to the Eastern Palace. Behind me, Daisy called out, asking what the hurry was, but I continued to run.

The east side of the Inner Court was deserted. Almost everyone was already in the feasting hall in the Outer Palace. I ran toward the vast area near the Tongxun Gate, passed the long, arched tunnel, and entered the Eastern Palace. I banged on the gate of Taizi’s residence.

“Taizi!” I shouted.

Silence.

“Pheasant!”

No one answered.

I panicked, and with all my might, I banged and shouted. No one came. Something was terribly wrong. Even if Taizi was not inside, his servants should have answered the door.

I turned around.

I had to find help. I had to save Pheasant before it was too late.

I raced to the Outer Palace and burst into the feasting hall. Before me were heads of the ministers, colorful gowns of the ladies, and the bustling servants. The Duke was there, and so was the Chancellor. But the Emperor’s uncle and the Pure Lady were absent. Where were they? Had they sent out their signal yet? But I could not think of their revolt right now.

The Emperor was seated at the feasting table at the end of the hall. He looked well enough, but he had never quite recovered completely from the spell that had weakened him. He was slouching, his right cheek hanging low, like a piece of wrinkled calligraphy paper glued to his face.

I had to tell him about Taizi’s plot. Then he would take his men and break into the Eastern Palace and save Pheasant. I went behind the pillars, stepped away from the servants holding trays, passed the musicians playing lutes and zithers, and approached the center table.

I slowed.

Would he believe me? What should I say when he asked me about the source? I would confess it was from Pheasant. But then he would understand Pheasant and I had met behind his back.

I hid behind a pillar and steadied myself. From behind a framed lantern, I peered at the tables where the ladies sat. The Noble Lady leaned over her son, Prince Ke, and said something to him.

Perhaps I should talk to her, so she could tell the Emperor about Taizi’s plan. But then the Emperor would investigate further, and then it would come back to me and Pheasant.

I could not think of a way to save Pheasant without risking myself.

Catching sight of me, the Noble Lady raised her hand and waved, her golden necklace sparkling in the candlelight. I could not move. What would she tell me if she knew what I was going to do next? “Don’t be foolish, Mei,” she would probably say. “Are you asking for Jewel’s fate?”

But I had to do it, or Pheasant would die. I took a deep breath and walked to the feast table. Near me, Lady Obedience twirled, her long, green sleeves encircling her like an emerald ring. Noises, heavy and thick, drummed in my ears.

I reached the feast table and knelt. “The One Above All,” I said. “Forgive me that I must interrupt this halcyon moment. A terrible plot is unfolding in Taizi’s residence. Pheasant is trying to persuade the heir to abandon his foolish idea. I fear he will not be successful.”

The voices around me ceased, and Lady Obedience’s feet scuttled away from me.

“What plot?” the Emperor asked.

His voice, more slurred than ever, clamped around my head like an iron ring. I did not flinch. “It involves weapons. It is said Taizi bought many of them and hid them in a stable. He is contemplating arming his men and revolting.”

Gasps rose up behind me. I remained still.

“Revolting?”

I lowered my head.

“Who told you?”

I put my hands on the ground to support myself. “Your son, Pheasant.”

Silence.

“Pheasant? Where is he?”

“He’s in grave danger. He said he needed to stop the heir. He went to the Eastern Palace several moments ago.”

The Emperor’s feet appeared before me. Fear and dread crept up my spine, yet I could not stop. Pheasant’s life, and my own life, depended on that moment. “You must believe me, the One Above All. I speak the truth. I went to the Eastern Palace and knocked on the door. No one answered me. Please do something. Pheasant… You must save him.”

A hand pushed up my chin. “Look at me.”

No one was supposed to hold the Emperor’s gaze, but I knew why he was ordering me to look at him. He wanted to peer into my soul and excavate the secrets of my heart. Yet for the first time since I entered the hall, I had no fear. I did not care if he would punish me. I did not care if I could win his affection. It was not important to me anymore. For now, I chose the wish of my own heart, and I had no regrets. I looked up.

Dark blots spread across his face like ominous shadows, and his eyes, now hooded, were sunk deep in the sockets, and his right eye especially, dragged down by the loose skin, was small and pitiful, like a burned hemp thread lying in a pool of melted candle wax.

But they were both flickering. Still bright, still frightening.

My hands jerked, but I did not look away.

“I shall deal with you later.” He dropped his hand and shuffled to his feasting table. “Captain! Bring your men to the Eastern Palace. Break down the gates, check the stable, and bring me Taizi and Pheasant.”

The Captain answered and left. In silence, we waited. I still knelt, my back bent and my hands on the ground. But I felt relieved. Pheasant would be safe. They would find him and rescue him.

It seemed I had been kneeling for ages when footfalls echoed outside the feasting hall. They had arrived! I turned around. But there was no Pheasant, no Taizi, no Captain. Only another guard.

“The One Above All!” the man shouted.

My heart pounded. Something was wrong. He had spoken before he was given permission.

“Emergency!” he shouted.

“What is it?” the Emperor asked. “Where’s the Captain?”

“Taizi ambushed us with his men. We were surrounded.” The guard wiped his forehead. He was about to speak again when a bell tolled from outside. The strikes were loud and urgent, the warning for an approaching threat to the palace. The hall fell silent. All the ladies and ministers stood to listen, their faces ashen.

“What is it? Who is attacking the palace?” The Emperor was shaking.

Another guard raced into the hall and prostrated before him.

“The One Above All! It’s Prince Yo’s army! We’re under attack!”

A sea of gasps rose around me, drowning me, and I shuddered with fear. Impossible! Taizi was revolting inside the palace, and now Prince Yo was striking from outside.

“Take me to the watchtower!” The Emperor stood, his hand on the table for support.

“There are too many of them. It’s too dangerous,” the guard said.

“Wuji!” Calling the Duke, the Emperor shuffled to the entrance. “Come with me. Let’s squash them!”

The Duke hurried to join him. Behind them, the ministers jostled, looking frantic. Then they followed too. The Noble Lady’s son, Prince Ke, ran after them. Soon they all left, leaving the hall filled with frightened ladies and fidgeting servants. I went to the Noble Lady and stood next to her.

“Prince Yo attacked. When did the Pure Lady send the signal? How did she do that with me watching her?” The Noble Lady looked shocked, but she sat demurely, her hands folded in her lap, as though she were giving instruction to her servants.

I shook my head. We were late, too late.

“And Taizi?” She rubbed her chest nervously. “Why would he rebel against his father?”

“I was surprised too,” I said. Was it a coincidence that the two princes attacked on the same night? No, it could not be a coincidence. The princes must have conspired together. That was why the Pure Lady went to the Eastern Palace to watch the mare giving birth to a foal, and the plum blossoms. She must have passed her signal then.

But why would Taizi agree to conspire with Prince Yo? Taizi hated the prince. He must have been so grief stricken that he had lost his mind. Prince Yo, of course, would not have refused any help to break into the palace.

The Noble Lady gazed at the door. “I wish my son hadn’t left us.”

“If you wish, I will go after him.” It was my excuse. I did not want to wait there. I wanted to follow the Emperor and search for Pheasant.

“It’s better if we wait. I hope they will be back soon.”

“But—”

“We wait.”

“All right.” I began to pace between the tables, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Around me, the women looked anxious. Some sobbed; some huddled together, shivering. It seemed as if they were breathing fear rather than air.

“Could you stop pacing? You’re making me dizzy,” the Noble Lady said.

I rubbed my hot face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

She picked up a cup and sipped. “Would you like some wine?”

I shook my head. I did not have the stomach for anything.

“Fine wine—”

A clash of metal exploded outside. I froze.

Her cup crashed to the ground, and then, the hall turned silent like death.

“What is that? What is that?” someone asked frantically.

As though to answer her, heavy footsteps thundered outside and men cried out. I could not tell who those men were, but I could hear they were close to us.

“They are coming here! The rebels are coming!” someone else shouted near me.

Panic raced through the hall faster than a pack of hungry rats. The women screamed, jostling one another, knocking over the candles. The hall went dark.

Fear gripped my throat. “Are you all right, my Noble Lady?”

She did not answer. I stretched out my arms, searching for her. Something crashed onto my head. I fell to the ground.

I blinked rapidly, but it was too dark and I could not see anything. My knees grew weak, and I groped in the dark. Everywhere I touched were people: their shoulders, their hair, and even their eyes. I murmured apologies, and desperate, I turned around like a blind man. My head knocked against a pillar. I slid to its bottom and leaned against it. It was comforting to know that something supported me.

Thunderous hooves drummed the ground outside. Metal clanged against metal. Heartrending cries rose, fell, and then were abruptly cut short.

The hall trembled. Dirt and dust showered from the ceiling. Something rolled against my hip. An apple, still in its silk wrappings.

Silence descended. Just when I thought the battle was over, another wave of shrieks ripped the ceiling, and more frantic rumblings and chaotic noises resonated.

“Mei?” The Noble Lady’s voice came from somewhere. “Where are you, Mei?”

“Near the pillar, my Noble Lady.”

The people around me shuffled, and the Noble Lady’s fleshy hand touched my cheek. “Oh, you’re here. I’m so glad I found you.”

I held her hand and made room for her to sit. “Are you all right, my Noble Lady?”

“I am.” She took a deep breath, but her hand was shaking. “This is ironic. I have gone through this before.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Emperor invaded this place, the same palace, when it was still my home. I was ten years old then. I hid under a table in a dining hall, and when I came out”—her voice was faint and sad—“all my family members were dead.”

Goose bumps prickled my arms. “I am sorry. I didn’t know that.”

“All except my mother, of course, and they held her…a sword under her chin… I’ve always wanted to be like her, to be an empress. I wanted to die with her then…”

I shuddered. “This time is different. The Emperor will win. He always wins.”

“We shall hope for that. But sometimes, I would rather… He kept me. I do not know why. I never told anyone. But if I could…I would rather do something different. I would rather have a hand in my destiny…”

Her voice, thick with helplessness which I had never heard from her before, shook my heart. I felt like crying, for all the pain and sorrow she had suffered at a young age, for all she had endured these years, living under the command of the man who took her mother’s life, but I did not wish her to continue, wary of the ears around us. “Let’s not talk about this now, shall we? Soon, we will return to our chambers and rest, and in the morning, we will gather together and enjoy the warmth of the sun in the courtyard.”

“Mei, you are too young. You don’t understand, but I know how this will turn out. We will not survive.”

“My Noble Lady—”

“This is life, Mei. All these years, I did not wish to remind myself of who I was, and all these years I fought and spied on the other ladies. Now they are gone. Jewel is dead, and her baby is dead too. No more fear or threat… I put aconite in her wine, Mei. It was me. I could not stand her. I had to…”

I could not believe what I had just heard. The Noble Lady, the lady known for her benevolence and kindness, would poison her rival and abort an innocent life? What other measures would a woman take to destroy her rival?

“Shh … Someone is coming,” a voice said.

A rider. Most likely armed. I heard metal clunking. It sounded as if the rider was searching the front court of the hall. Gasping, people shrank around me. I felt the Noble Lady shake beside me.

“Don’t worry.” I put my arms around her. My mouth was dry, and my heart pounded in fear, but I tried to comfort the Noble Lady. “It could be an imperial guard, or the Emperor himself.”

“It could be anyone.” She shook her head.

“Be quiet!” someone, perhaps Lady Obedience, snapped in a low voice. “They will find us.”

They? The heavy hoofbeats pounded against the stones on the ground. It was true. It sounded like there were at least two riders. The women began to sob, pushing toward the back of the hall. I could not help it. I held on to the Noble Lady and moved to the back as well.

“Mei!” The Noble Lady’s voice cracked. “The door…”

I looked at the entrance. I could not see it clearly. “It’s bolted.” I hoped. It would take at least five men to break in with the bolted door. But if it was not… My throat tightened, and I could not breathe. And the hoofbeats ceased outside. Had the riders left?

A thunderous crash shook the hall, and the doors blasted open. I jumped, my hair standing up on my nape. But no one burst through the door. No movement either. Only silence.

“What was that?” the Noble Lady asked, her voice quavering.

I shook my head. The night’s wind rushed through the doors like a massive hand sweeping the top of my head. An animal howled in the distance. Or was it a man shrieking before his death?

“We need to close the door. Could someone please go shut the door?” It was Plum’s voice.

No one moved. The women beside me trembled violently. The Noble Lady’s eyes were closed, and with the faint light coming from outside, I could see her face was stark white.

I rose, and even though I felt no strength in my legs, I said, “I’ll close it.”

Holding my breath, I crept toward the entrance. I was going to die, I was sure of it. A sword was going to flash in the air and chop off my head before I could cry out.