Dou Zhao felt she might not live much longer.
The older generation often said, “Dream of death, you’ll live; dream of life, you’ll die.”
Lately, she had been dreaming of her childhood, sitting under a trellis full of wisteria, swinging her chubby little legs. Her plump, white wet nurse, resembling a steamed bun, was feeding her.
A breeze would blow, and the hanging wisteria vines would cluster together. The layers of purple flowers rustled, like a group of young girls whispering among themselves.
She found it amusing and ran over giggling, grabbing a vine, and plucking a blooming wisteria flower.
The wet nurse chased after her: “Fourth Young Miss, be good. Eat this bite, and the Seventh Master will return from the capital. He’ll bring many delicious treats for you, and shoes and socks…”
She ignored the wet nurse, avoiding the extended silver spoon, and plucked another wisteria flower.
A clear, melodious woman’s voice came from nearby: “What’s this? Is the Fourth Young Miss misbehaving again?”
Upon hearing this voice, the wet nurse immediately turned and curtsied in its direction, respectfully calling out “Seventh Madam.”
She ran over, clutching the wisteria flowers: “Mother, Mother…”
The young woman gently embraced her.
She proudly showed her mother the wisteria flowers in her hand.
The spring sunlight shone on her mother’s golden hairpin and bright red gold-threaded jacket, reflecting a dazzling light. Her mother’s body seemed coated in gold leaf, stinging her eyes. Her mother’s face melted into that golden halo, making her expression unclear.
“Mother, Mother…” She strained against the ache in her eyes, tilting her head high, trying to see her mother.
But her mother’s face became increasingly blurry.
A young maid ran over, excitedly reporting: “Seventh Madam, the Seventh Master has returned from the capital!”
“Really!” Her mother stood up, both surprised and delighted, lifting her skirt and rushing out.
She pattered after her mother on short, chubby legs: “Mother, Mother!”
But her mother walked faster and faster, about to disappear into the spring light.
She grew anxious, calling out to her mother’s retreating figure: “Mother, Mother, Father didn’t come back alone! He brought a woman! She’ll take your place as the principal wife, driving you to despair and suicide…”
But for some reason, this crucial message kept circling in her mind and on her tongue, unable to make a sound. She could only watch helplessly as her mother’s figure faded from view.
Frantic, she ran around searching for her mother.
In the white light, there was a group of adults arguing incessantly.
She ran over.
While pushing through the crowd, she anxiously asked: “Have you seen my mother? Have you seen my mother?”
They were all too busy arguing to pay her any attention.
Mother, where had she gone?
She looked around, bewildered.
Suddenly, she saw a flower hall with doors inlaid with colorful glass. The door was half-open, and it seemed there was a figure moving inside.
Could her mother be hiding there?
She ran over joyfully and pushed open the door with a creak.
Half of a bright red, gold-threaded Xiang skirt swayed in the air. Below the skirt, two feet were visible. One foot wore only a snow-white silk sock, while the other wore a red silk embroidered shoe with mandarin ducks playing in the water…
She woke up from the dream with a piercing scream, drenched in sweat.
The familiar octagonal palace lamp still stood quietly in the corner, emitting a bright yet soft glow.
The room was silent. The head maid, Cui Leng, was dozing on a small stool by the bed.
Dou Zhao took a deep breath.
So that scream was also in the dream!
She suppressed the panic and unease in her heart.
Her illness had thrown the household into disarray, especially her maids who took turns watching over her day and night, not daring to blink. They must be exhausted.
Dou Zhao didn’t disturb Cui Leng. Looking at the lamplight in the corner, she couldn’t help but think of her recent dream.
Her mother had died when she was only one year and eleven months old. She remembered nothing. If it weren’t for her mother’s loyal servant, Tao Niang, finding her later, she wouldn’t even know how her mother had died. How could she possibly know these details?
This was all her imagination, born from her daily thoughts and Tao Niang’s stories, conjuring up scenes in her dreams!
Dou Zhao felt a heaviness in her chest, a suffocating discomfort. She couldn’t help but turn over.
The rustling of fabric seemed particularly clear and loud in the quiet night.
Cui Leng was immediately startled awake. Realizing she had fallen asleep during her night watch, she called out “Madam” in alarm.
Dou Zhao smiled reassuringly at her and said, “I’m a bit thirsty.”
“I’ll get you some tea right away.” Cui Leng jumped up, sighing in relief.
After drinking some hot tea, Dou Zhao asked, “What time is it now? Has the Marquis returned?”
“It’s just past midnight,” Cui Leng stammered, “The Marquis… hasn’t returned yet.” She seemed very uneasy.
Dou Zhao’s gaze darkened.
She had caught a cold while viewing chrysanthemums at her cousin’s – Princess Consort Wei Yanzhen’s – residence on the Double Ninth Festival. Afterward, she developed a fever. At first, no one took it seriously, including Dou Zhao herself. They thought a few doses of medicine from the imperial physician would cure it. Unexpectedly, after several doses, not only did her condition not improve, but it worsened. Ten days ago, she became bedridden, which finally alarmed the household. They called for doctors, performed rituals, and prayed to Buddha, causing a great commotion. Her husband, Marquis Jining Wei Tingyu, even had the maids set up a couch behind a screen, where he slept every night to attend to her needs.
Yesterday afternoon, the Fourth Master of the Ding’an Marquis’s family, Wang Qinghai, came to see Wei Tingyu. They whispered for a long time, and Wei Tingyu left with Wang Qinghai, using the excuse of having dinner together. He hadn’t returned since.
Wang Qinghai, courtesy name Dahe, came from a noble family like Wei Tingyu. They grew up together, both fond of horseback riding and cuju (an ancient Chinese football game). They were particularly close, often going polo playing, cuju, hunting, and horse racing together. Under normal circumstances, Dou Zhao wouldn’t have minded and would have continued sleeping soundly. However, just half a month ago, Wang Qinghai’s father-in-law, Earl of Dongping Zhou Shaochuan, had been imprisoned in the imperial jail for embezzlement, with his title stripped and property confiscated. Wang Qinghai was running around trying to help his father-in-law, and Dou Zhao feared Wei Tingyu might get involved.
“Ask the woman on duty at the second gate to check if the Marquis is resting in the study,” Dou Zhao said worriedly. “If he’s not in the study, tell the person on duty at the main gate to ask the Marquis to return to the main chamber as soon as he comes back.”
Cui Leng left to carry out the instructions.
In less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, she hurried back: “Madam, the Marquis has returned!” She paused slightly, then added, “The Marquis just came back from outside and is heading straight to Madam’s chambers.”
“I see,” Dou Zhao struggled to sit up.
As Cui Leng was about to help her rearrange her hair, Wei Tingyu entered the inner chamber.
Although past thirty, Wei Tingyu didn’t resemble other nobles of his age who lived in luxury, either appearing listless from overindulgence or bloated from an easy life. He was tall and straight, with handsome and refined features. His movements were agile and full of vitality. He looked even more spirited than in his youth, appearing no more than twenty-five or twenty-six at first glance. He was known as one of the capital’s most handsome men.
Seeing Dou Zhao sitting up in her robe, he asked in surprise, “Why aren’t you asleep yet?”
Dou Zhao, however, asked, “What did Fourth Master Wang want with you?”
“Oh!” Wei Tingyu’s gaze shifted slightly, “Nothing much, he was just feeling down and wanted to have a drink with me…”
“My Lord!” Dou Zhao raised her voice, cutting off Wei Tingyu’s words unceremoniously, “Fourth Master Wang came to ask for your help, didn’t he? Have you carefully considered why the Earl of Dongping was imprisoned? If you get involved in this mess, do you realize what trouble it could bring? Even if you don’t care about me, your mother is getting old, and the children are still young. Are you going to disregard them all?”
“Don’t treat me like a three-year-old child,” Wei Tingyu smiled. “The Earl of Dongping merely said a few careless words while drunk, offending His Majesty. That’s why he was imprisoned. Not just me, but everyone in the capital knows this. Don’t worry, I have my plans for this matter. I won’t implicate you or the children.” His tone was rather dismissive.
The current Emperor had ascended to the throne through a palace coup and was most wary of people privately discussing this matter. The so-called drunken ramblings of the Earl of Dongping were likely related to this.
After more than a decade of marriage, Dou Zhao knew Wei Tingyu’s temperament well.
His words made her even more worried, and she insisted on getting a promise from him: “…You must not get involved in anything related to the Zhou family!”
Wei Tingyu’s anger rose at her words. He said displeased, “What do you mean? Dahe is my closest friend. If he’s in trouble and I do nothing, what kind of person would that make me?” Then he sneered, “It’s a good thing Dahe didn’t ask me to plead with your father. Otherwise, wouldn’t you be turning your back on me?”
Dou Zhao’s father, Dou Shiyying, was the Director of the Hanlin Academy and Deputy Director of the Chancellery, only a fourth-rank official, but highly valued by the Emperor. He was often summoned to the palace to lecture the Crown Prince and other princes.
Hearing these cutting words, she nearly fainted from anger.
Seeing this, Wei Tingyu felt guilty and said in a low voice, “Do you know why Dahe came to me?” His eyes widened in anger as he continued, “That dog Song Mo has taken the Zhou family’s Thirteenth and Fourteenth Young Misses into his household!”
Dou Zhao was shocked: “What about Madam Zhou?”
“She’s in the household too,” Wei Tingyu said, his voice barely audible and his expression awkward.
Dou Zhao gasped.
Madam Zhou was the Earl of Dongping’s second wife, the niece of Cao Jie, the Commander of the Miyun Guard. She was only thirty-two years old and exceptionally beautiful. The Thirteenth and Fourteenth Young Misses of the Zhou family were Madam Zhou’s daughters, a pair of sisters even more beautiful than their mother. Though not yet of marriageable age, suitors had already been lining up at their door.
“He abandons virtue and abuses his power so blatantly, yet His Majesty does nothing?” Dou Zhao asked.
Wei Tingyu laughed coldly: “He killed his father and brother, and His Majesty only punished him by withholding three years of salary and removing his official position, letting him atone for his crimes through meritorious service. Do you think His Majesty would reprimand him for this matter?”
Dou Zhao fell silent.