After the new Emperor’s accession, there was the customary process of welcoming new officials and dismissing old ones, crowning meritorious ministers and eliminating dissidents.

In this power transformation, the most enviable figure was an unremarkable minor official from Prince Shao’s mansion – Yang Xingjian. Though born to a prestigious family, his official career had been unsuccessful, and by middle age he had only achieved a sixth-rank sinecure position.

During Prince Shao’s most difficult period when he faced the late Emperor’s suspicion and fell from favor, even Princess Consort Cui’s family had betrayed their trust. Only Yang Xingjian showed unique insight, insisting on forming a marriage alliance with him. Although his daughter Yang Fangxie died of illness before entering the palace, after Li Yuanying’s accession, he still posthumously honored her as Virtuous Consort. With the late Emperor’s death requiring three years of mourning during which imperial children could not marry, this already-deceased young woman became His Majesty’s only officially recognized consort.

Everyone understood clearly that this wasn’t because Li Yuanying had feelings for a concubine he’d never met, but to repay his father-in-law’s virtue of recognizing talent and remaining steadfastly loyal. As father of the Virtuous Consort, Yang Xingjian rose meteorically, receiving the title Duke of Wei and the substantive position of Military Administrator in Princess Imperial Chengtian Wanshou’s household, enabling him to ennoble his wife and benefit his sons, bringing glory to his family name.

At the celebratory tail-burning feast for his promotion, this newly-created Duke excitedly performed the Central Asian whirling dance before relatives and colleagues, his movements so vigorous and agile that he appeared nothing like a man in his forties.

As for Yuan Shaobo, Li Yuanying unexpectedly appointed him Military Commissioner of Youzhou, planning to dispatch this childhood companion and trusted confidant to the northern frontier.

Upon closer consideration, this was reasonable and proper. During Li Yuanying’s unknown exile period, he and his sister had together eliminated Liu Kun and Wang Chengwu, who had entrenched themselves in Hebei. The new Chengde Military Commissioner Liang Shiji had sent his eldest son as hostage in advance to demonstrate submission. The hundred thousand Lulong Army troops in Youzhou were critically important and had to be entrusted to a reliable general’s control.

Two of the three Hebei circuits had now been restored to imperial authority, making the end of separatist turmoil imminent. This achievement alone was sufficient to inspire patriotic poets to compose endless laudatory verses.

Meritorious officials received rewards one by one, but only the assassin who eliminated deposed Crown Prince Li Chengyuan remained mysteriously untraced. Even after searching every inch of Chang’an, that person remained nowhere to be found.

Princess Bao Zhu was annoyed by his silent departure without farewell and ordered artists to create wanted posters for the man in blue and the young monk. But she feared local officials’ overzealous pursuit might deploy crossbow formations against them again. After much hesitation, she ultimately didn’t issue the orders.

With the two sages governing together and the Princess establishing her own administration, her staff gradually expanded and succession disputes quickly subsided. Li Yuanying suffered from stroke symptoms – any slight exertion would cause him to fall ill, hardly appearing long-lived. Most court sessions and governmental affairs were handled by the Princess. Learned scholars defended her right through scriptural interpretation: the Princess was surnamed Li, making her succession more legitimate than Empress Wu’s enthronement years ago.

Naturally, the debates then shifted to future concerns: what would the Princess’s heirs be surnamed? What rank should her consort hold? Court officials and scholars argued until red-faced and spittle-flying, nearly coming to blows.

Bao Zhu simply issued an edict declaring her intention to join the Daoist order.

Since the Tang founding, they had honored Daoist patriarch Laozi (surnamed Li) as their ancestor, posthumously titled Sacred Ancestor Xuanyuan Emperor. Many previous dynasty princesses had become female Daoist priests, so this wasn’t particularly unusual.

However, Princess Imperial Chengtian Wanshou’s entering religious life while holding supreme power was naturally different from ordinary princesses. With her celestial identity of spirit liberation and immortal ascension, she immediately became a Supreme Purity Great Cavern Three Scenes Master upon taking vows, holding transcendent status.

Just as Empress Wu had used Buddhism as a ruling instrument, the Princess serving simultaneously as governmental leader and Daoist religious head obviously had political purposes. Primarily, this clarified her non-marrying stance, ending endless court debates about the next generation’s succession.

With His Majesty divorced and the Princess entering religious life, obviously no new people would enter the imperial harem during the lengthy three-year mourning period. The siblings calculated palace treasury accounts and decided to send all the late Emperor’s consorts back to their natal families for care, while releasing all palace women and eunuchs who wished to leave.

This single decree reduced Daming Palace personnel by five thousand, dramatically cutting expenses while establishing the siblings’ governing tone of streamlined administration and frugal austerity. His Majesty’s everyday clothes were reportedly washed repeatedly rather than replaced, reaching almost miserly levels of frugality.

With fewer people, the palace buildings stood largely empty. Bao Zhu demanded her younger brother become self-sufficient while she sought more suitable quarters befitting her status, though governmental duties kept her too busy to decide.

This day Li Yuanying sent word that he had matters to discuss in Penglai Hall.

Penglai Hall was where the siblings had grown up together. After their mother’s death, it had remained unoccupied. Bao Zhu found this strange and hurried over, setting aside her current tasks.

Li Yuanying had already ordered servants to clean away years of accumulated dust and air out the halls. Entering her former residence, Bao Zhu saw furnishings and decorations exactly as remembered from childhood, flooding her with past memories followed by deep melancholy. After the late Emperor’s guilty conscience following the Noble Consort’s death, he had sealed her residence, permitting no one to enter.

With only her brother present in the hall and no others, Bao Zhu understood he had matters to discuss and dismissed her attendants.

The gorgeous beast-patterned Persian carpet was newly replaced, with a small square table placed on it where Li Yuanying now sat cross-legged drinking tea. He wore half-new, half-old brownish-yellow casual clothes, and even his tea was weak and tasteless to help him sleep more peacefully at night.

“How is your leg wound?” Bao Zhu kicked off her shoes and sat down, asking with concern.

“Finally healed – walking presents no difficulties,” Li Yuanying replied.

Bao Zhu noticed only tea on the table, not even her favorite pastries, finding this strange.

“Why did elder brother think to clean up Penglai Hall?”

“Aren’t you selecting new quarters? I thought you might consider our former residence. Also, I wanted to return and see the scene of her death.”

Mentioning their mother, Bao Zhu’s heart tightened. Looking at Li Yuanying’s haggard face with dark circles under his eyes, she advised: “You should let this matter go. We’ve already avenged her.”

“For me, that incident might as well have happened yesterday,” he smiled bitterly. “She lay in a pool of blood with something like intestines hanging by her leg. Since then, I can’t touch animal organs or blood products.”

Bao Zhu closed her eyes and sighed. When their mother died, she was only ten years old, and the birth chamber scene had gradually blurred. But for Li Yuanying with his perfect memory, every detail of past events remained vivid. Sometimes excellent memory was a flaw – physical wounds could heal, but heart wounds always remained open.

“Taking this opportunity, I also have something to discuss with elder brother, concerning Yuan Yi. Since his birth, except for mandatory occasions like sacrifices, you always avoid meeting him. After returning to the palace, you’ve never mentioned him voluntarily. I understand you harbor resentment toward Yuan Yi because of Mother’s death, but that’s not his fault – infants have no say in their conception and birth.”

Li Yuanying’s fingertips rubbed the teacup, not responding directly, only saying flatly: “Though he lost his mother young, he had your protection – his luck was better than ours.”

Bao Zhu was helpless. After their mother’s death, Li Yuanying had left the palace, rarely seeing his brother with no opportunity to develop affection. She could only ask: “What exactly do you wish to discuss today?”

“Rather than discussing, it’s more about new discoveries I must inform you of,” Li Yuanying paused, his voice suddenly dropping. “Concerning that incident from years ago.”

Hearing his grave tone, an ominous premonition immediately filled her heart. Bao Zhu said: “Speak.”

“After returning to Chang’an and completing the most urgent matters, I finally had leisure these past days to re-examine intelligence about Mother’s death. Even though evidence was deliberately destroyed, more clues naturally remained in the palace.

Over these years, her trusted female officials have been eliminated by the late Emperor, and eyewitnesses have gradually disappeared. But carefully reviewing personnel records from the Palace Women’s Bureau, I discovered one person present in the birth chamber is still alive.”

Bao Zhu started, sitting bolt upright: “Someone’s still alive?! Who is this person? What did they see?!”

Li Yuanying said: “Her name is Chang Lanfang, serving as lamp-tender in the Palace Women’s Bureau. Having worked as a midwife outside the palace for many years in her youth, she was always called to assist when imperial consorts gave birth. Her name wasn’t in Penglai Hall’s personnel records, nor in the female physician archives – probably one reason she escaped disaster.

Second: One month after Mother’s death, Chang Lanfang’s son Niu Xiu obtained a secretary position in the Yiwu Circuit military administration. Chang was sixty years old, and Niu Xiu petitioned to release his mother from palace service so his children could support her in filial duty. The palace naturally encouraged filial piety and considered the old woman too feeble for heavy work, so quickly approved.

The great purge had just begun then. Chang Lanfang’s early release accidentally saved her life – she left unknowingly and happily followed her successful son to his posting.”

Bao Zhu murmured: “She was a midwife and must have closely attended Mother that day. How did you locate this witness?”

Li Yuanying said: “I searched all records. When Mother died in difficult labor, no one received rewards. But before Yuan Yi’s birth, there were records of one prince and two princesses born successfully, with Chang Lanfang’s name listed among reward recipients. I surmised this person likely participated in deliveries, wrote to inquire, and confirmed it. I immediately sent people to bring her to the palace for detailed questioning.”

Bao Zhu’s heart pounded. She knew her brother’s methods – if Chang Lanfang’s testimony contained nothing significant, Li Yuanying wouldn’t have summoned her so solemnly.

She asked tremblingly: “What did Chang say?”

“Breech birth. Labor pains lasted eight full hours with the feet presenting first. Chang said this was very dangerous for both mother and newborn. After consulting with several experienced female physicians, they risked pushing the feet back to adjust the position for re-delivery. This time the head emerged first – normal circumstances – and the baby was born alive.

Chang explained that delivering the child was only the first step of birth; an extremely important step followed. The mother had to expel the placenta wrapping the baby to truly complete delivery. The placenta connects to major blood vessels in the abdomen through the umbilical cord linking to the infant. If not delivered promptly, the mother would hemorrhage. That bloody thing I saw resembling intestines was the umbilical cord.”

Bao Zhu looked at her brother in confusion, and Li Yuanying showed the same expression. Clearly, these matters exceeded both siblings’ knowledge, appearing like heavenly script.

“Then what?”

“After prolonged labor pains and breech delivery, Mother was utterly exhausted, unable to deliver the placenta. The physician could only cut the umbilical cord first, continuously massaging her abdomen and using moxibustion, but nothing worked – the placenta wouldn’t detach. Mother bled profusely, gradually losing consciousness and speaking incoherently. That man… entered the birth chamber under these circumstances.”

Bao Zhu urgently asked: “Did she see the late Emperor pour out the blood-stopping medicine?!”

Li Yuanying shook his head: “Chang didn’t notice. She only regretfully said that at that point, even immortal elixirs would be useless. Until Mother bled to death, the umbilical cord still hung by her leg and the placenta never emerged.”

Hearing the day’s events from another perspective, Bao Zhu’s heart felt pierced by knives as she choked out: “How credible is this person’s account?”

Li Yuanying said: “I separately sent people to question civilian midwives – seventeen people gave identical answers. Once the placenta fails to descend and the mother hemorrhages, even celestial immortals couldn’t stop it. Ten deaths from ten cases, no surviving exceptions.”

Bao Zhu’s eyes filled with tears: “So… so that bowl of blood-stopping medicine… whether she drank it or not, the outcome would be the same…”

Li Yuanying’s eyes reddened, his voice hoarse: “To completely verify the truth, we’d have to open her coffin and have coroners examine… that placenta should still remain in her body…”

“No! No! No!” Bao Zhu collapsed into screaming, “No one may touch her remains! I forbid it!”

Her desperate roars echoed through Penglai Hall. This was where the Noble Consort had lived and died – the siblings sat opposite each other weeping.

Bao Zhu finally understood. Childbirth was women’s private chamber business – those inexperienced couldn’t know its procedures and dangers. She and her brother were thus, as was the late Emperor. The difference was that man, guilty in conscience, continuously concealed evidence, while Li Yuanying, trapped by memory, repeatedly tortured himself with facts.

The late Emperor had poured out the blood-stopping medicine, thinking he’d personally killed his wife. Hearing of palace ghosts, he grew fearful and lived in daily terror. If he had honestly fed her that medicine that day, Mother would still have died from hemorrhage, but that would be natural death, not murder. He could have buried his wife with clear conscience, holding the newborn while remembering her, instead of fearing vengeful spirits to the point of aberrant behavior.

“But why? Why did he pour out that medicine? Was it impulse? Premeditation?”

Li Yuanying controlled his emotions, explaining as calmly as possible: “After that man’s enthronement, Mother strategized behind every major decision. She did it cleanly – even when ennobling maternal relatives, she only placed the most incompetent relatives prominently. You never heard rumors of Mother interfering in government.

She was a supreme dancer and excellent politician. Hidden behind the title of virtuous consort, she paved my path. Then, Li Chengyuan had already been removed from crown prince position by Mother. When the child in her womb was born, she would officially receive empress title and helping me ascend to crown prince would be effortless – everything proceeded smoothly according to her plans.

But the late Emperor’s paranoia finally erupted. Hearing rumors questioning my bloodline, he felt he’d been under his wife’s control for twenty years – loving yet hating, respecting yet fearing her.

Normally, Mother was impeccable in behavior and reputation. He depended on her greatly and lacked courage to resist. But that birth day was Mother’s most vulnerable, powerless moment. I think, holding that medicine bowl, he suddenly realized this was his only chance to escape her control.

He did it, and Mother died in difficult labor as he wished. He just hadn’t anticipated such terrifying consequences.

On Mother’s seventh night after death, I stole her pomegranate skirt as keepsake. When leaving, I noticed something strange in the flower soil and felt uneasy. I happened to encounter Golden Guards on night patrol and, fearing exposure, panicked and threw the pomegranate skirt over my head while fleeing. They saw a red figure floating from Penglai Hall, didn’t dare pursue, only shouted about ghosts. From that day, blood-smeared ghost rumors spread through the palace.”

Bao Zhu stared blankly at her brother: “So it was you…”

Li Yuanying lowered his head: “Yes, the rumored blood-smeared ghost was me. There were never real ghosts in this palace, only a man with guilty conscience seeing phantoms born from remorse and fear. Mother’s spirit should have ascended to heaven the day she departed. From now on, you need not fear darkness or ghosts.”

As his words ended, suddenly a refreshing strong wind swept into Penglai Hall, making pearl curtains rustle while dispersing all the dark gloom and shadowy phantoms accumulated in the deep palace over years.

Li Yuanying wiped away tears, speaking from his heart: “Your data collected from the Ministry of Revenue and Court of Judicial Review was correct – women of childbearing age are far more likely to die from childbirth than spousal persecution.

No matter how brilliantly talented a woman or how promising her career, it could all be suddenly taken by one delivery, just to exchange for an unknowing infant. Please don’t attempt this path – I… I cannot endure watching another loved one bleed to death before my eyes.”

Truth like a blade again cut open wounds. Bao Zhu wept like rain, her heart aching until she could barely breathe.

Author’s Notes: Modern medicine divides childbirth into three stages: First stage – cervical dilation; Second stage – fetal delivery; Third stage – placental delivery.

Placental delivery occupies an entire stage, showing its importance. Retained placenta causing massive hemorrhage had no treatment in that era.

“Zi guan” (imperial coffin) – coffins for emperors, empresses, or high ministers.

This term sounds the same as “zi gong” (uterus), creating an accidental pun.