Many years later, even after Mu Fulan had grown into an adult, she still could not forget the scene of her final farewell with her aunt at Fengyi Palace in the year she turned six — the moment of parting as her aunt lay dying, and every single word her aunt had spoken to her that night.
Her aunt had been the foremost beauty of the Kingdom of Changsha. Beyond her looks, she was celebrated far and wide for her virtue and her literary talent. She was later chosen by the Empress Dowager and installed as the mistress of the central Fengyi Palace, becoming the Empress of the reigning dynasty.
On the surface, what an extraordinarily glorious thing that seemed to be.
The current dynasty had been founded over two hundred years ago. At its inception, great enfeoffments were made across the realm. In addition to the imperial princes stationed in various territories, several clans of meritorious subjects were exceptionally granted the title of princes of different surnames by virtue of their extraordinary accomplishments.
The Mu Family’s ancestors were honorably counted among them. For their unparalleled contributions, they were enfeoffed as Prince of Changsha, governing the territories of Yuezhou and Tanzhou. From that point on, the Mu Family relocated to the south and made their home on the shores of Dongting Lake for generations.
Each successive Prince of Changsha held fast to the teachings of their ancestors. Outwardly, they fulfilled their duties to the throne — presenting themselves at the spring court audiences and offering tributes in autumn. Inwardly, they governed their territory with care, cherishing their people as a parent cherishes a child.
As the dynasty continued to the present day, the few remaining princes of different surnames had, for various alleged offenses, either been demoted or had their kingdoms abolished entirely. Those few who remained were themselves in precarious standing.
The Kingdom of Changsha alone endured. Small as it was, through generations of diligent and benevolent governance by its successive princes — who had practiced restraint and concealed their strength — combined with its remote location in the south, and protected by the eight hundred li of Dongting Lake and the natural barrier of the Yangtze River, the kingdom had not only remained far removed from the conflicts and intrigues of the Central Plains, but had flourished as a peaceful paradise. Even now, the sister of the deeply beloved Prince of Changsha had been chosen by the imperial family in the distant capital of Shangjing to take her place as mistress of the central palace.
For the people of the Kingdom of Changsha, what a source of honor and pride that was.
The year her aunt left the city of Yue on the shores of Dongting Lake to be escorted north to the capital as Empress, Fu Lan had not yet been born.
But from the moment she was old enough to understand things, she had heard the elderly nannies in her household say more than once that she looked very much like her aunt. When they reminisced about the magnificent scene of the princess departing Dongting all those years ago, every one of their faces still carried traces of the pride that glorious day had brought.
Though her aunt had never met little Fu Lan, she had apparently heard something of this small niece who resembled her so closely, and had always shown Fu Lan deep care and concern.
From the moment Fu Lan was born, gifts arrived from the capital without interruption through all four seasons. The young Fu Lan, for her part, was filled with longing for that legendary aunt — the Empress residing in the imperial palace far away in Shangjing — and had always harbored a deep hope in her heart that she might one day meet her.
She often knelt before the Great Emperor of Junshan in earnest prayer, making her wish known in secret.
The gods seemed to have heard her plea.
In the year she turned six, her heart’s desire was at last fulfilled.
That year, the Empress was joyfully with child, and the Prince of Changsha and his consort were granted permission to travel to the capital to present their congratulations.
Fu Lan was brought along by her parents, together with her elder brother. They crossed mountains and rivers, man and horse alike wearied by the journey, and after nearly a month on the road, they finally arrived at Shangjing.
Fu Lan had originally believed that Yue City, where she had grown up, was the most prosperous city in the world. She had thought that the place her family called the “royal palace” — her home on the shores of Dongting Lake — was the finest place in all the world.
It was not until she came to Shangjing, witnessed the boundless splendor of the Son of Heaven’s capital, and laid eyes upon the place where her aunt lived — called the “imperial palace” — that Fu Lan understood just how narrow her former perspective had truly been.
The imperial palace before her eyes stretched on and on — upswept eaves and inverted ridgelines extending without end, impossible to take in with a single glance no matter how far one looked.
Such an expanse of glazed tiles in every direction, white jade steps and vermilion courtyards. Resplendent gold and jade, painted rafters and soaring gables beyond all description.
The Fengyi Palace where her aunt resided was all the more exquisitely appointed — carved railings of jade, golden door fixtures bent and curved in intricate patterns.
Amid a dazzling brilliance of gold and emerald that dazzled the eye, Fu Lan at last beheld her own aunt — the most revered woman in all that palace.
Her aunt was dressed like a celestial maiden from the heavens, and was indeed as beautiful as one. With a gentle smile on her face, she brushed aside Fu Lan’s mother’s protests and let the tiny Fu Lan climb up onto her lap, pressing a warm kiss to her cheek.
Her aunt was exactly as Fu Lan had imagined her to be.
Her aunt adored Fu Lan, and Fu Lan adored her aunt just the same. Later, when her parents brought her elder brother back to the Kingdom of Changsha, Fu Lan was kept behind to remain in the palace as her aunt’s companion.
In the company of Fu Lan’s playful affection, her aunt’s belly grew larger with each passing day, until at last the day of the birth arrived.
What Fu Lan had never anticipated was that her aunt would suffer a prolonged and difficult labor, followed by a hemorrhage.
The imperial prince, not long after he came into the world, could not be saved either.
Her aunt lay upon the phoenix bed of Fengyi Palace, having been unconscious for three or four days.
Throughout those three or four days, Fu Lan never ceased praying from the depths of her heart to the Great Emperor of Junshan back in her homeland by Dongting Lake, pleading with the gods to bless her aunt and allow her to safely pass through this ordeal.
The Great Emperor of Junshan was, in the heart of young little Fu Lan, the most powerful and the most compassionate deity between heaven and earth.
Each year at the spring equinox, her parents would prepare the five sacrificial offerings and lead Fu Lan and her elder brother, along with the officials of the Kingdom of Changsha, to set aside their carriages and walk reverently on foot from the base of the mountain up to the summit, to offer sacrifices to the Great Emperor of Junshan.
It was through the protection of the gods that the Kingdom of Changsha enjoyed favorable weather and abundant harvests.
And it was through the answering of her prayers that she had been able to travel to the capital and meet her aunt face to face.
Yet this time, the gods of Junshan would not answer her prayers.
Late that night, worn out from weeping and having dozed off beside her aunt, she suddenly woke.
A song drifted to her ears — she could not tell from what corner of the vast palace it came.
“…To the southwest lies Kunming, where the sea yields the Gold-Spitting Bird… True pearls and tortoise brain it consumes, spitting gold dust fine as millet…”
“…Without the Cold-Repelling Gold, how can one win the Emperor’s heart… Without the Cold-Repelling Hairpin, how can one win the Emperor’s tender care…”
The young Fu Lan did not understand at the time what those words meant. Only when she grew older did she come to understand.
Legend had it that the kingdom of Kunming possessed a Gold-Spitting Bird that soared above distant seas. During the reign of Emperor Ming of Wei, that kingdom presented the bird as tribute. Fed on true pearls and tortoise brain, the bird would spit gold dust as fine as millet; this gold was crafted into hairpins and earrings, and the beauties who wore them were doubly enhanced in their appearance, causing the Emperor to pause and turn his head in admiration. The palace women accordingly competed to use the gold spat by the bird for their own adornments. This gold was called Cold-Repelling Gold, because the bird feared no cold.
The palace halls lay deep in silence. The song drifted in fragments, accompanied by the swaying candlelight nearby that was stirred by the night wind — mournful and grievous, as though it came from the underworld, hauntingly unsettling in the desolate depths of the palace on that quiet night.
During the half year she had lived in the palace, Fu Lan had once heard a young palace maid whisper to her in secretive tones that in a place called the Cold Palace, which could not be seen from where they were, the wandering souls of women who had died there over hundreds of years still lingered. Sometimes, in the dead of night, palace attendants with gloomy spirits clinging to them could even hear the sorrowful song coming from that direction.
Fu Lan had not believed it at first.
How could a place as magnificent and upright as the imperial palace harbor such unquiet spirits?
Yet at this very moment, she discovered with alarm that something resembling that strange melody had truly drifted into her ears.
What alarmed her even more were the palace attendants and female officials standing night watch at her aunt’s side.
They showed not the slightest reaction. Some, exhausted beyond their limits, leaned against the pillars dozing in secret. Others stood before the phoenix bed with tears running down their faces, keeping vigil over the Empress of the Mu clan from the Kingdom of Changsha — who had always treated the palace attendants generously, yet now lay unconscious.
The mournful song at her ear came and went in fragments, as though it continued still.
At that moment, Fu Lan saw her aunt — who had been unconscious for several days — her draped lashes trembling faintly, and then slowly, she opened her eyes.
Her aunt’s gaze was blank as she stared up at the embroidered satin canopy above, its phoenixes descending among peonies. A moment later, Fu Lan saw her lips part slightly, murmuring something under her breath.
Her voice was so weak it was nearly inaudible, yet Fu Lan could see clearly: her lips were repeating the words of that drifting song.
Without the Cold-Repelling Gold, how can one win the Emperor’s heart, Without the Cold-Repelling Hairpin, how can one win the Emperor’s tender care.
“Aunt!”
Fu Lan called out and threw herself before the phoenix bed, seizing her aunt’s hand, eyes brimming with tears and tinged with surprise.
The nearby palace attendants and female officials were stirred, gathering around in a flurry.
Her aunt’s face was as white as the pale, pale snow that settled atop the peaks of Junshan.
After a moment, she slowly turned her face. Her icy fingers rested gently on Fu Lan’s small hand, and in a faint voice, she commanded everyone around her to leave the room.
The palace attendants and female officials withdrew without a sound from the inner chamber.
The faint song at her ear had come without a trace and departed without one.
All sounds faded into silence. Her ears were clear.
Her aunt said softly: “Lan’er, sing one of the songs our Changsha people sing when your royal father climbs Junshan to offer harvest sacrifices to the gods… the songs I haven’t heard in so many years. I want to hear one…”
Fu Lan hurriedly wiped her tears, nodded her head vigorously, and sang out the song she knew by heart:
“How great is the Supreme Emperor, his wisdom like the gods, who divides the flowering seasons and sustains our living people.” “How great is the Supreme Emperor, his merits like the heavens, who balances the four seasons and brings forth our years of plenty.”
The child’s voice swirled through the vast and deep chamber of Fengyi Palace — childlike and crystalline, like the purest sound of nature.
Her aunt’s lips slowly curved upward at the corners.
Fu Lan sang again and again — and when she finished that song, she sang another for her aunt.
Her aunt had been listening intently at first, but gradually she seemed to grow tired and closed her eyes.
A moment later, Fu Lan heard her murmur: “…Yuan the Chancellor… is he well these days…”
Fu Lan paused, and stopped singing.
She had heard her mother speak of Chancellor Yuan of the Kingdom of Changsha with a tone of fond remembrance — her father’s right-hand man — but he had died of illness several years ago.
Chancellor Yuan had never married. He left behind only an adopted son, whom it was said had been found in his early years abandoned near a wolf den in the deep mountains, and was given the name Handing. After the Chancellor’s death, her mother had brought the child to the royal household to be raised as her own. He was a few years older than Fu Lan, indulged her in everything, and was like another older brother to her.
“Aunt… Chancellor Yuan… he has already died of illness…”
Fu Lan did not understand why her aunt would suddenly ask about Chancellor Yuan. She hesitated briefly, then answered in a small voice.
Her aunt did not stir. Suddenly her lashes trembled again, and she slowly opened her eyes, seeming to regain her clarity once more.
“…Yes, he has already passed on… I had forgotten…”
She murmured to herself in a voice so low it was barely audible.
“Aunt! You must get better!”
A sense of foreboding, like a tide, swallowed little Fu Lan whole.
She pressed close, her small hand clutching tightly to her aunt’s soft, cold, and damp hand, tears streaming as she called to her over and over again.
Her aunt lifted one hand with great effort, her fingertips gently wiping away the tears that rolled ceaselessly down Fu Lan’s face. A pair of beautiful eyes fixed themselves upon her, and in a low voice she said: “They all say your aunt is the foremost beauty of the Kingdom of Changsha — yet from the very first moment your aunt laid eyes on you, she knew: when Lan’er grows up, she will be the true foremost beauty of our Kingdom of Changsha.”
She smiled, and spoke word by deliberate word: “Lan’er, this life of yours will certainly be more fortunate than your aunt’s. Your aunt will pray for you and watch over you.”
She gripped Fu Lan’s hand tightly.
As though only by doing so could she convey the wishes of her heart to the hearing of Heaven.
From behind, the female official rushed in with the imperial physicians.
In the end, her aunt could not hold on through that final trial. Not wishing Fu Lan to witness her last moments, she had people forcibly carry away the weeping child.
When dawn came, Fu Lan heard a palace maid say that her Empress aunt had passed away — very peacefully, her appearance as serene as in life, as though she had merely fallen asleep.
In the blink of an eye, ten years had passed.
Perhaps far more than ten years.
So many years — time had slipped by just like that.
She was no longer the little girl who had once sung songs for her aunt.
Yet every word, every single character her aunt had spoken to her that night — Fu Lan could still hear them clearly when she thought of them now, as vivid as if they had only just been said.
And yet the beautiful blessing her aunt had bestowed in her final moments had, in the end, come to nothing.
People of the time said: among the Mu clan women of the Kingdom of Changsha, each generation would produce one of unrivaled beauty.
Peerless looks — and yet a fate of hardship and misfortune, never reaching a good end.
Perhaps this was the destiny of the women of the Mu clan.
……
Traveling from Dongting into the Yangtze River, journeying upriver westward past Jiangling, Xiazhou, and Guizhou, through Badong, cutting through the Wushan Gorges, beside the treacherous Sichuan roads, lay Kuizhou. Beneath its jurisdiction was an ancient county that, according to its annals, could be traced back to the very founding of the current dynasty — a branch of people bearing the surname Xie, who had fled their native place during the fall of the previous dynasty and relocated there after much wandering, slowly multiplying and settling down together. To this day, the county remained home to many with the surname Xie, and had thus been given the name Xie County.
The morning light filtered through the latticed old window — its paper panes somewhat aged, carved with a pattern of ten-thousand-character motifs — and gradually illuminated the interior of the room.
In the main hall of the Xie Family’s ancestral home, on this particular day, Xie’s mother, Shen Shi, sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed as she did every morning, waiting for her daughter-in-law Mu Fulan to come offer her morning greetings — and then help her put on her shoes, comb her hair, and thus begin the new day.
Mu Fulan was the royal daughter of the late Prince of Changsha, who had died three years ago, and the royal younger sister of the current Prince of Changsha.
Having entered her husband’s household, regardless of one’s original status, paying morning and evening greetings was naturally expected — this was the filial duty a daughter-in-law owed her mother-in-law.
But to personally help her mother-in-law put on shoes and comb her hair each and every day — for a woman of Mu Fulan’s station as a royal daughter, it was impossible not to seem a condescension.
And so at first, when the new bride had voluntarily served her in such ways, Shen Shi had been completely unprepared, and had felt somewhat awkward and constrained.
Now, more than half a year since the Mu clan woman had entered the household, she had proven gentle and virtuous, scrupulously respectful toward Shen Shi, and thorough in her attentions — with not the slightest air of a royal daughter to be detected anywhere about her. Xie’s mother had thus transformed from her initial awkward restraint into gradually accepting it as the natural order of things.
Shen Shi was accustomed to rising early, and her new daughter-in-law had followed suit — rising every day before the sky had fully lightened, always waiting outside the main hall by the middle of the mao hour. Today it was already past that time, and still the Mu clan woman had not appeared. Her attendant Nanny Mu, who had come with the new bride to serve her, had only sent a maidservant over, saying that the mistress had risen a bit late this morning and wished to offer her apologies to the Old Madam in advance, and would come to pay her respects shortly. Shen Shi’s heart began to feel a growing discomfort, and gradually her brow furrowed.
Beside her, a maidservant named Qiuju — whose given name was in fact Qiulan, a girl of some beauty who had come from the Qi Family several years earlier, and had changed her name to Qiuju to avoid matching her mistress’s name — observed her mistress’s expression and began to mutter under her breath: “Old Madam, it’s not for this servant to speak out of turn, but though the mistress came here from the Kingdom of Changsha, things are not what they once were. Three years ago, when the engagement was first announced, the Kingdom of Changsha was still doing well enough. But since the old Prince of Changsha passed away, the Kingdom of Changsha has been going downhill year after year. And our household’s master, on the other hand, has been rising steadily in these past few years. Why, just at the beginning of this year, when he married her, he had already been appointed by the court as Military Governor of Hexi. This servant has heard that even the current Empress Dowager Liu, when she encounters our master, has to greet him with a smile and speak pleasantly to win his favor. Once the master returns triumphant from suppressing this rebellion, promotions and honors are surely bound to follow.”
A smile spread across Xie’s mother’s face.
“Old Madam, you treat the mistress like she were your own flesh and blood — you care for her and take pity on her difficulties in marrying so far from home, treating her better than a true daughter. Yet she has only been married here such a short time, and already she has stopped keeping you in her eyes. Making the Old Madam wait this long!”
She pressed the tip of her tongue against her palate and gave a quick, nimble click — producing a crisp “tsk.”
“This servant has only ever known that a daughter-in-law serving her mother-in-law is the natural way of things; this is the first time she has ever seen a daughter-in-law use her own family’s backing to make her mother-in-law wait to see her face.”
The smile on Shen Shi’s face disappeared. Her expression shifted to one of mild displeasure. “Go over there and see what has happened. The sun is already high enough to warm one’s back — surely she can’t still be in bed?”
Qiuju responded briskly and set off with quick steps, passing through the covered walkway, and before long arrived at the east wing.
The Xie Family’s ancestors were the direct descendants of that branch of Xie clan members who had relocated here from the previous dynasty. During the era of the great-great-grandfather, they were still local strongmen; to say they owned ten thousand mu of good farmland — nearly half of all the land in Xie County — was no exaggeration at all. This ancestral home had once been among the most magnificent residences in the entire county. But later, the great-grandfather had developed a gambling habit, and the Xie Family began to decline. By the time of Xie Changgeng’s father, the family patriarch had sunk to the position of a postal relay station official, scraping by on a meager salary to support the family. After Xie Changgeng got into serious trouble and left home at the age of fourteen, the Xie ancestral home had even fallen into a state of abandonment for a time. It was not until a few years ago, when the Xie Family’s fortunes revived and Shen Shi moved back in, that the house was repaired. The east wing here had been renovated again when Xie Changgeng married the Mu clan royal daughter at the beginning of the year.
Xie Changgeng had welcomed the Mu clan royal daughter of the Kingdom of Changsha as his bride in early spring.
More than half a year had passed since then, and now it was autumn. The double-happiness red characters pasted on the windows and doors still remained, but unable to withstand the wind and sun, the original deep red festive color had gradually faded, becoming a pallid, lifeless hue.
“Nanny Mu, the Old Madam has been up since early morning, waiting and waiting, with no sign of the mistress. She sent me here to have a look. If the mistress is suffering from some ailment — a headache or a fever — please do let me know, so I can go back and tell the Old Madam and spare her from waiting in vain.”
Qiuju stood at the bend in the covered walkway leading to the east wing, addressing Nanny Mu, who was knocking at the door. Her tone sounded respectful on the surface, but carried an undercurrent of insolence.
What manner of person had Nanny Mu once been?
The royal daughter had crossed mountains and rivers to honor her marriage contract and wed into this bitter and remote Badong land. On the very night of the wedding, Xie Changgeng had barely entered the bridal chamber before a ten-thousand-li urgent imperial edict arrived, and he stripped off his wedding robes and left home in haste through the night, heading off to suppress the rebellion of Prince Jiangdu — and had not returned to this day.
Throughout these past six-plus months, she had watched with her own eyes as the royal daughter — who had been cherished and doted upon at home — served Xie’s mother morning and evening with endless care, attending to every matter personally without once uttering a word of complaint.
This Xie’s mother, had she been a perceptive and considerate person, it might have been bearable. But she was a narrow-minded woman — and seeing the royal daughter’s gentle compliance, bolstered by a little confidence in her son’s rising status, had been growing increasingly presumptuous, becoming more and more comfortable and thinking nothing of treating the royal daughter without due regard.
Nanny Mu knew that the royal daughter’s whole heart was bound to the Xie household’s young master — that she loved him, and so by extension bore all hardships gladly. Though she felt aggrieved inside, the matter touched on the young mistress’s relationship with her husband, and there were things she could not say plainly. She could only gently drop hints to the royal daughter in private, and seeing that she paid little mind, Nanny Mu had no choice but to swallow her resentment.
For all these six-plus months, the royal daughter had risen early every single day, rain or shine, unfailingly waiting at the door of the main room first thing each morning to enter and attend to Xie’s mother.
Yet today — for the very first time — the royal daughter had for some unknown reason not yet risen, and Nanny Mu had already sent word ahead so as not to keep Xie’s mother waiting.
Not even the time it takes to drink a cup of tea had passed before the summons came. And not only that — even this lowly maidservant who had come from the Qi family had the audacity to come here and speak in such a manner.
Back in her younger years, Nanny Mu would have long since raised her hand and delivered a slap.
The several maidservants waiting at the door to attend the royal daughter upon her rising all showed expressions of indignation at what they had heard.
Zhuyu, who had the most fiery temper among them, could barely contain her anger, and said coldly: “First thing in the morning, perfectly unprovoked, she’s here cursing our young mistress. What is the meaning of a base and contemptible creature — today I have finally seen it for myself.”
Qiuju choked on her words, her face immediately flushing red. She was just about to speak again and regain her footing, when Nanny Mu opened her mouth: “That we have kept the Old Madam waiting is our own negligence, but word was sent in advance, so it cannot be called an outrageous breach of propriety. Even in the imperial court, the Son of Heaven permits his subjects to request leave when it is inconvenient — let alone between a mother-in-law and her daughter-in-law under the same roof?”
Having said this, she turned her face and instructed the more composed of the maidservants, Danzhu: “You go, convey what I have just said to the Old Madam, and offer her our apologies on our behalf. I trust the Old Madam will not take issue over such a minor matter.”
Danzhu acknowledged this and turned to leave.
Qiuju had always been somewhat wary of this Nanny Mu from the royal household of Changsha. Hearing her speak thus now, with those two eyes boring heavily into her, the words at the tip of her own tongue could no longer be uttered. She swallowed them back, lowered her head, and turned to leave — when she heard a “creak” from the east wing. She looked up, the door had opened, and the Mu clan woman appeared in the doorway.
Her complexion was pale, her beautiful eyes faintly reddened and swollen, yet her expression was utterly composed.
Clearly the same person — yet for some reason she seemed entirely different from the day before. It was as though she had become someone else overnight.
Her gaze fell directly and steadily upon Qiuju.
“You are just the right person. Go and inform my mother-in-law that I intend to set out for home today. Once I have finished packing, I will come and bid her farewell in person.”
Having said this, she turned toward the visibly stunned Nanny Mu and the maidservants waiting at the door.
“Pack everything as quickly as possible, prepare the carriages and arrange the staff — we set out today. I am returning to Dongting.”
Her instructions given, she turned and went back inside.
Nanny Mu came to herself as if waking from a dream, quickly stepped forward, and followed her in.