Placing the cold armband on her arm, Bao Zhu walked step by step toward the stage. The many details of that palace banquet began to emerge from the depths of her mind like strings of bubbles gradually floating to the surface.
After Princess Dongyi’s marriage alliance, the court and Tibet underwent difficult negotiations and finally reached a treaty to lay down arms and cease hostilities. This ancient capital of Chang’an was able to break free from the shadow of the Western Region wars. To celebrate, the emperor issued a special decree to increase the ancestral temple sacrificial ceremonies, thanking the ancestral spirits for their protection and praying for national peace and eternal tranquility.
At the same time, the Purple Forbidden Palace in the Eastern Capital should hold sacrificial ceremonies of the same scale. At this moment, the emperor suddenly remembered he had an elder brother in Luoyang whom he hadn’t seen for many years. To demonstrate his magnanimous and filial imperial bearing, he graciously allowed Prince Qi to return to Chang’an once, to participate in the ancestral ceremonies with other royal relatives, then return to Luoyang the next day.
Therefore, the palace banquet after the sacrificial ceremony was Li Yu’s only opportunity in this lifetime to meet the Imperial Consort face to face.
“Don’t panic, steady your steps,” Mi Moyan whispered beside her.
After the two mounted the stage, they stood shoulder to shoulder, assuming their starting positions, and the musicians immediately began playing. “Spread flat the brocade mat in one fold, strike three times the painted drums to urge.” The Zhezhi dance that had been performed countless times in Prince Qi’s mansion was being performed once again.
“Why has it become a duet?” Li Yu asked with a frown.
The training matron hurried forward and respectfully answered, “Time was too rushed. She hasn’t memorized the dance steps yet and needs someone to lead and demonstrate.”
Li Yu gave a noncommittal grunt. Before him were two young performers, a boy and girl, but what floated up in his mind was the graceful, enchanting figure of that peerless beauty from the palace banquet many years ago.
“In the north there is a beautiful woman, peerless and independent. One glance topples a city, another glance topples a nation.” No man could escape the Imperial Consort’s city-toppling, nation-toppling charm, to the extent that many inhuman rumors quietly circulated. He had originally thought she would be a seductive demon consort with natural charm, but never expected her to be as sacred and noble as a bodhisattva.
From that day forth, the beauty’s graceful dance left an indelible mark in his heart. “The sun and moon constantly gaze at each other, turning and winding, never leaving the heart. Seeing where you walk and sit, it’s like fire burning the body.” After the sun encountered the bright moon, from then on his soul was haunted by dreams.
The maiden’s dance steps were out of sync with that barbarian boy’s. Li Yu sighed, thinking that in just a few short days, it indeed wasn’t working. Over these years, the countless substitutes he had searched for everywhere could not ease the lovesickness burning like fierce fire in his heart—they could only serve as outlets for venting.
Another misalignment. Li Yu thought darkly: perhaps both of them needed a lesson to improve their memory.
When the third mistake occurred, Li Yu was about to call out to stop them, but suddenly a familiar feeling struck him. For the same dance piece, every musical troupe and lineage of instruction had different choreographed movements, and the styles of the two capitals Chang’an and Luoyang were even more varied.
Though Danniao’s dance steps were awkward, they were closer to what he had seen that night at the palace banquet. Was it because she came from Chang’an? Li Yu suppressed his displeasure and patiently continued watching.
Mi Moyan on stage was already so terrified that red sweat was flowing. Was she too nervous? Why did she keep moving on her own? If she angered their master today, then in the remaining days left, they would have to endure torment and suffering.
At this moment, Bao Zhu decided to take a gamble, to bet big.
Prince Qi harbored forbidden desire for her mother—this was the conclusion she reached after sorting through all the clues. Though this emotion was disgusting, it was quite reasonable. Those who had seen the Imperial Consort without being enchanted by her were truly rare. But she was the emperor’s exclusively favored consort, and most people knew how to restrain their desires.
Li Yu, far away in the Eastern Capital, could easily obtain the privilege of commissioning murals and statues by donating large sums anonymously to temples. Having lived in Luoyang too long, even without military or political power, he could form an intricate network of relationships through his royal status. In his own mansion, he was even more of a king who could control life and death.
Just now, with one casual remark, she had nearly lost her ears. Bao Zhu knew well that between her and Prince Qi stood many accomplices like Aunt Zhao and Xu Shiyi who could inflict torture on her at will. “People are the knife and cutting board, I am the fish and meat”—she must immediately establish a connection with the power holder at the top and increase her own importance in order to protect herself.
The common saying goes “accompanying the ruler is like accompanying a tiger,” but people in the world still desperately crowded toward imperial power. The closer to the center of power, the more opportunities and resources one could grasp. Prince Qi yearned for the heavenly mandate foretold by auspicious omens—she would fabricate one for him. In this isolated and helpless difficult situation, her only advantages were her understanding of the aristocratic mindset and her vague impressions of that palace banquet.
Drawing on memory, Bao Zhu interspersed her mother’s dance steps into Mi Moyan’s choreography, making her shackled performance even worse. Bao Zhu knew in her heart that Prince Qi must have already appreciated performances by all the famous dancers around Luoyang. Even if she practiced bitterly for several more years, she could never perform better than professional dancers.
The Guanyin statue, jade armband, fingernails dyed red with balsam flower juice—all these unspeakable trivial details proved one thing: what Li Yu’s heart desired was not a perfect Zhezhi dance, but the Zhezhi dance as interpreted by her mother.
Every time she made movements different from the lead dancer Mi Moyan but similar to her mother’s, sparks of surprise would flash in Prince Qi’s eyes.
The dance performance gradually reached the midpoint, and that crucial moment was about to arrive. After a large lateral step and turn, Bao Zhu extended her right arm diagonally upward, making a special movement that belonged uniquely to her mother—Eagle Soaring. Imitating the posture of a falconer releasing a hunting falcon perched on the wrist, the Tang Dynasty’s top dancer had incorporated this movement into her choreography, adding a touch of heroic spirit to the bright rhythm of the Zhezhi dance.
And she held all her movements at this moment, maintaining the Eagle Soaring for one breath, then ended the dance, lifted her skirt hem, and walked off stage.
Mi Moyan’s face was deathly pale, the musicians looked at each other in bewilderment. The training matron was terrified, rushing over and scolding, “Are you rebelling, girl? Who told you to stop?!”
Bao Zhu answered calmly and unhurriedly, “I don’t know the rest, so I can only dance to this point.”
The training matron was so frightened that cold sweat poured down, wondering how to severely punish her to escape their master’s blame. But just then, Prince Qi on his seat suddenly rose and called out loudly, “Excellent! This dance should end at exactly this point!”
Bao Zhu sneered coldly in her heart—everything was as she had predicted.
That night’s Zhezhi dance had stopped abruptly in the middle. It was because Princess Wangshou, completely absorbed in watching her mother’s dance, accidentally cut her wrist with a dining knife. The wound was small but bled considerably, and the always pampered princess immediately began sobbing.
First Prince Shao Li Yuanying noticed his sister was injured, then the surrounding maids and eunuchs all crowded over. When the Imperial Consort noticed the chaos, she instantly switched from her roles as favored consort and dancer to that of mother, anxiously running toward her.
The outcome of this small accident was the emperor bestowing bright pearls, gifting fine horses, and telling jokes to coax his most beloved precious daughter from tears to laughter. The princess snuggled in her mother’s warm embrace, enjoying the loving favor of her imperial father and consort mother. At that time, she thought life would always be so perfectly happy.
“Who taught you this? Who told you to stop at this point?” Li Yu moved with agility that didn’t match his age, striding quickly from the pavilion toward the maiden, asking question after question.
Bao Zhu said firmly, “I often dream of a celestial being radiating light, dancing gracefully. She said ‘Celestials have their own celestial gifts.'”
Li Yu felt molten lava-like hot currents flowing through his chest cavity. He felt himself radiating brilliance, as if transformed into a true sun. Due to excessive excitement, waves of dizziness struck his mind, requiring attendants to step forward and support him to stand steady.
This was the omen he had dreamed of—the mysterious traces ‘she’ had left in the mortal world after ascending to heaven.
Prince Qi’s joy overflowed beyond words, that excitement seeming ready to burst from every pore. Everyone thought he would keep the new Guanyin slave to serve in his bedchamber, but Prince Qi ordered her to return to Rainbow Garment Pavilion. For such an auspicious person, he wanted to carefully select an auspicious day, and he still needed to wait for a divine medicine to restore him to his peak.
Bao Zhu returned to her room and threw the bestowed silk like discarded garbage, hurling it violently into a corner.
Mi Moyan turned to close the door, saying excitedly, “The master likes you! He has never spoken so many words to any Guanyin slave!” His words revealed joy for her.
Bao Zhu vigorously patted her clothes, trying to remove the bad luck. At this moment, all her long-suppressed disgust rose to her face. Everywhere that had been looked at by Li Yu’s revolting eyes felt contaminated with filth, making her uncomfortable all over.
“That perverted old dog who goes against the natural order! I only regret that today’s performance wasn’t with a pipa.”
Mi Moyan hurriedly advised, “Being old has its advantages—he can’t torment for very long. You must seize the opportunity and do your utmost to win his favor. Like Jade Pot—as long as you gain one master’s favor, there’s hope.”
Hearing these words, Bao Zhu’s eyes blazed with fury, “What hope! I only want to gouge out his eyeballs!”
“Hope of staying alive!”
After these words escaped his lips, Mi Moyan was shocked to realize that in his momentary urgency, he had inadvertently revealed the truth he had been concealing, and immediately felt deep regret.
Bao Zhu looked at him in surprise, then remembered that when he mentioned other Guanyin slaves, he always used words representing the past like “formerly” and “previously.” During these days, she had never seen any Guanyin slaves besides him.
“They’re all dead, aren’t they?” she asked in a trembling voice.
Mi Moyan seemed to have all strength drained from his body, sitting dejectedly on the couch with his head lowered.
“Speak quickly! I must know in advance what will happen next,” Bao Zhu urged anxiously. “Tell me in detail!”
Mi Moyan was silent for a long time, staring fixedly at the ground, then said in a low voice like narrating a ghost story, “After the city patrol, he sends experts to abduct the Guanyin slaves, leaving only their clothes behind to fake the appearance of ‘ascending to immortality.’ Once the Guanyin slaves arrive at the pavilion, he forces them to learn the Zhezhi dance, plays with them for some days, and when he grows tired of them, he holds a banquet…”
Bao Zhu murmured, “The Golden Osmanthus Banquet.”
“This year the city patrol was delayed until Mid-Autumn, so the theme is osmanthus flowers. In previous years there were ‘Cherry Blossom Banquets,’ ‘Flower Morning Banquets,’ ‘Peony Banquets,’ and so on—just finding an elegant excuse to call friends together, including several of his sons… Many people participate, and those girls don’t live to see the next day.”
Mi Moyan paused, then continued in a guilty voice, “Except for me. He seems to be pursuing a perfect Guanyin image. I was the only boy among previous years, not fitting his requirements. So he only had me castrated and kept in the rear quarters to teach people dancing.”
Bao Zhu’s mind was in chaos, shock like surging waves completely submerging her reason and composure.
This person’s deranged cruelty was far more terrifying than she could have imagined. Unable to obtain her mother, he sought substitutes as second best, but because the substitutes weren’t the real person, he quickly grew disgusted. Female entertainers were legally comparable to livestock—giving them as gifts, beating and torturing them to death was like discarding old furniture for someone of his noble status, merely a trivial matter.
Mi Moyan earnestly pleaded, “As long as he favors you, you have a chance at life. Don’t mention the pipa anymore, please?”