The Moon in the Palace (The Empress of Bright Moon Duology) (34 page)
Read The Moon in the Palace (The Empress of Bright Moon Duology) Online
Authors: Weina Dai Randel
The story of Wu Mei is based on a historical figure, the one and only female ruler in China, Wu Zetian, also known as Empress Wu. All the male characters in the novel, except the eunuchs, are actual historical figures; some of the female characters, including the Noble Lady and Mei’s mother, are real women who lived and were recorded in history as well. Others, such as Jewel, Plum, Daisy, and the other Ladies, are fictional.
The birth date of Wu Mei was not recorded. It is likely that she was two years older than Pheasant, but in the novel, I chose to portray them as the same age. It is also unknown whether Mei had a romance with Pheasant while she was serving Emperor Taizong.
The formal name of Emperor Taizong’s firstborn son, the heir, was Li Chengqian, but I chose to use Taizi, which means “the crown prince” in Chinese. It is unknown whether he was homosexual, but records showed he was rather attached to his Turkic heritage.
The assassination attempt on Emperor Taizong and the rebellion of Li Chenqian and Prince Yo appear in historical records, but the two princes’ plots were planned separately and were discovered before they caused damage to the palace.
All the quotes from Sun Tzu’s
The Art of War
were translated by Lionel Giles (1875–1958), with one slight change in the line “
ju qiu hao bu wei duo li
.” Giles translated it as “To lift an autumn’s hair is no sign of great strength.” I changed it to “To lift a feather is no sign of great strength,” as “
qiu hao
” refers to a very fine down feather in the autumn in archaic Chinese.
I used the modern pinyin system for the majority of the Chinese names, but I used the names of Confucius, Lao Tzu, and Sun Tzu as they are commonly known to English readers.
The city Chang’an is now known as Xi’an. The kingdom Koguryo is now the modern North Korea.
1. How much did you know about the palace women in ancient China before you read this novel? In what ways do you think the palace women in China were similar to those in Europe?
2. Discuss the many facades of love in the novel and how it manifests itself in the following characters: Mei, Pheasant, Jewel, Emperor Taizong, Taizi, and the Noble Lady.
3. Discuss the theme of deception. How does the Emperor deceive the kingdom? How does Jewel deceive the Emperor and the other women?
4. The novel opens with the monk’s prediction of Mei’s destiny. How would you define the concept of destiny? How does Mei perceive her destiny?
5. Compare the relationship between Mei and Jewel and the relationship between Mei and the Noble Lady.
6. For nearly two thousand years, Confucius’s instruction of five virtues—filial piety, tolerance, courtesy, faith, and wisdom—determined the values of ancient China. Describe how filial piety is demonstrated in Mei and how it motivates and suppresses her.
7. Have you heard of Sun Tzu’s
The Art of War
? Do you think the master’s insight in strategies set up a tone for this novel? Do you think the master’s teaching helps Mei in the Inner Court? How?
8. Silkworm farming was an important industry in ancient China, and silkworms were often revered, but Mei is forced to destroy them in the novel. Do you agree with what she did?
9. Discuss the relationship between Mei and Pheasant. When does their relationship begin to grow? At what point does it begin to deepen and change?
10. How would you describe Jewel’s character? Do you consider her to be a sympathetic figure or an evil one?
11. Discuss the intricate relationships within the imperial family. How do these relationships affect the Emperor and his sons?
12. What do you think the title
The Moon in the Palace
means?
13. The descriptions of nature, animals, birds, and sceneries are very rich in this novel. Discuss the symbols of the sun, snow, and rain. Where do you see them? What do you think they symbolize?
14. If you were one of the Emperor’s hundreds of concubines confined in the Yeting Court and Inner Court, how would you attempt to rise within the palace hierarchy?
Read on for an excerpt from
the
Empress
of
Bright Moon
Available April 2016 from Sourcebooks Landmark
1
Would he die tonight?
The thought flickered in my mind as I dabbed at a brown stain on the Emperor’s chin. He did not respond, not even to twitch his lips or blink. He lay there, his mouth open, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. The right side of his face was a ruinous pool of skin, and his good left eye was opaque, like a marble that the light of candles failed to penetrate. Now and then, there seemed to be a spark in that eye, as though his old valor was struggling to come to life, to surface, to fight the fate that conquered him, but the light flashed like a fish in a murky pond. It was there, swimming, but it did not come up to the surface, not even for a breath of air.
He did not see me. He was gone, I could tell—a once-powerful whirlwind of wrath and will, now a bag of slackened skin, a shell of vaunting vanity.
I straightened, and an ache shot through my back. How long had I been kneeling at the bedside, watching him? I could not remember. All of us—the Talents, Graces, and Beauties, once the bedmates of the Emperor—had been his caretakers for the past ten months. Every day, we took turns feeding him, cleaning him—for he had long ago lost the ability to control his fluid—and carefully we watched him, listening to his every labored breath and every painful groan.
When the Emperor had announced Pheasant as the heir of the kingdom last year, he had been frail, and he had collapsed a few days later, shaken by the mysterious hand that had tormented him all these years. Writhing, gushing white foam from his mouth, he fell out of a stretcher on the way to his bedchamber and had not wakened since.
The water dropped in the water clock beside me. Nine. Where were they? They must hurry…
I rose, patting the side of my Cloudy Chignon, the elaborate hairstyle I had finally mastered. A few strands had fallen on my shoulders, and the loose knot that should have sat on top of my head had slumped sadly to my right ear. I wished I could make myself look more presentable, but we were not allowed to leave the chamber. The physicians had ordered me and the other Talents to stay with the Emperor at all times. I had not bathed for two months, or looked at myself in the bronze mirror, or put on my white face cream. My hair, which had once been soft and fragrant, now felt heavy and lumpy on my neck, and the green robe I wore had turned brown, stained with splashes of herbal remedies.
The thought whispered to me again. I peered at him. What if he died tonight? What would happen to me and the other women who served him when he did die? I quickly smothered the thoughts. I should not think of those questions, for it was treason to ponder on the Emperor’s mortality…
But all the titled women in the Inner Court must have wondered about their fate these months while he lay there unresponsive. After all, it was the unspoken law that we, as the Emperor’s women, should never feel the warmth of another man’s arms again after the Emperor’s death. There must have been a plan for us. Yet no one openly talked about it, even though the ladies gathered together in the courtyard every morning, whispering, their eyes misty with tears.
I wished I could listen to the Duke and the Secretary, the two highest-ranking ministers, when they came to visit the Emperor. But they had many important matters to discuss and did not seem to pay attention to us. And Pheasant. He was busy too, and I had not yet had an opportunity to ask him about our fate.
But no matter what the plan was for us, I knew one thing was for sure: after the Emperor’s death, Pheasant—my Pheasant—would be the ruler of the kingdom. He would look after me and my future.
And he had promised…
The empress of bright moon
, he said…
My heart warm with joy, I glanced at the doors. Pheasant and the Duke should have arrived by now. I wondered what the delay was.
A soft drizzle fell outside, light, persistent, carrying a pleasing rhythm that reminded me of the sound of baby silkworms devouring mulberry leaves. It was the fifth month of the year, a good time to have some rain. I yearned to go outside, feel the raindrops on my face, and smell the fresh air, for the bedchamber was veiled with the thick scent of incense, ginseng, musk, clove, dried python bile, and the unpleasant odor of death. I had been inside for so long, I supposed I smelled just like the chamber. I knew my fellow Talent, Daisy, did, as well as the others who yawned in the corner. Each time one of them passed me, I could name the herb in her hair.
Footsteps rose in the dark corridor, and red light from many lanterns poured through the doors. Finally, Pheasant and the Duke entered the chamber, their wet robes clinging to their chests. The physician, Sun Simiao, followed behind.
I retreated to the corner, giving them space, as they had asked each time they came, although I wished to stand right beside them and listen to what the physician had to report. When he examined the Emperor earlier, he had sighed heavily.
The men whispered in low voices, their eyes on the Emperor. The Duke sighed and sniffed, running a hand over his face. Pheasant, surprisingly, looked somber, although his eyes glittered.
“Crown Prince,” the physician said, stepping aside to the screen, and Pheasant and the Duke followed him. “We have done the best we could. But I’m afraid I must tell you the dreadful news. The One Above All will not see the dawn’s light.”
My heart jerked. I tried to remain motionless.
“I understand.” Pheasant’s voice was soft and sad, and I stole a look at him. His eyes sparkled in the candlelight near the screen. His face was thinner, his jawline more refined than ever, and he had grown a beard.
I remembered how grief-stricken Pheasant had been when he learned the Emperor had become ill last year. For days, Pheasant had stood by the bedside, with us women scurrying from the physicians’ herb chamber to the courtyard, carrying bowls of medicine. When we fed the Emperor, Pheasant, careless of his own life, would taste the liquid first, to ensure it had not been mixed with any pernicious ingredient by a vicious hand. When some of us fell down in fatigue after days without sleep, he would tell us to rest and watch the Emperor himself. He was a dutiful son, and I was not sure the Emperor deserved him.
“If there is anything you need, Crown Prince,” the physician said, “we’re here to serve you.”
“You have my gratitude, Physician Sun.” Pheasant nodded solemnly. His gaze swept past me. A swift look, but long enough to warm my heart. We had seen each other more often recently, as he came to visit his father almost every day. Sometimes, when the other Talents were not watching, he would brush my arm or hold my hand, and sometimes, when he went to use the privy chamber, I would follow him. There we would share some precious private moments, and it would be the highlight of my day. “Uncle?”
The Duke bowed slightly. “Nephew.”
The old man looked his usual self, his face long and hard and his gaze arrogant. I wondered how the Duke managed to stay in good health. He was the Emperor’s brother-in-law, and they were the same age, but while the Emperor was in the throes of death, the Duke still stood strong. For the past three years, he had been the Emperor’s close assistant, taking direct orders from him, writing edicts for him when he lost control of his arm. Since the Emperor had become ill the year before, the Duke had acted on the Emperor’s behalf, giving orders to the ministers. At the moment, he was the most powerful man in the kingdom.
“I must prepare for the inevitable,” Pheasant said. “I would like you to arrange a meeting with the astrologers, Uncle, and report to me the auspicious dates for burial in the coming months. Also, summon the mausoleum’s mural painters for me, as well as the craftsmen who will build the four divine animal statues for the burial. I would like to examine their works and make certain all matters regarding the funeral are taken care of.”
His voice was loud and steady, full of command and authority. I was proud of Pheasant. During the past months, he had shown a strength that was unknown even to himself. He had learned the rituals of worshipping Heaven and Earth and the judicial and penal processes, and familiarized himself with the governments of the sixteen prefectures of the kingdom. He had gathered ministers together, charmed them, and even won the support of the General, the commander of the ninety-nine legions of the Gold Bird Guards, who safeguarded the palace.
“Of course, Nephew,” the Duke said, looking hesitant, “yet I would advise you not to tell the women of this devastating news at the moment.”
“Why?” Pheasant looked surprised.
The Duke coughed, and when he spoke again, his voice was so low I had to strain to hear. “For the women are most petty minded and troublesome… If they know their fate…”
“What fate?”
“Naturally, your father’s women shall never be seen or touched by any other men, and he has ordered that those who have borne him children must dwell in the safe Yeting Court for the rest of their lives.”
Pheasant frowned. “I see. But what about the women who have not borne a child?”
“They will be sent to the Buddhist monasteries around the kingdom, where they will pray for the Emperor’s soul. This is for the best and a fine tradition that dynasties follow.”
I froze. Buddhist monasteries? He was banishing us. He was demanding we become Buddhist nuns, the ones who severed their secular ties to the world, the ones who forsook joy and desire, the ones with only past and no future. If we were banished there, scattered to the remote corners of the kingdom, we would hear nothing but the sound of misery, feel nothing but sorrow, see nothing but death. Our lives would end.
A chill swept over my body. The Emperor’s death would be my noose.
