Inside Qingque Convent, a plump woman with her hair bound up in mourning style and dressed in coarse hemp robes knelt earnestly before a memorial tablet, chanting sutras, devoutly seeking to deliver a departed soul to peace.
Ninety-nine recitations of the White-Robed Guanyin Sutra every single day had been her devotion these past ten-odd days.
Ever since Empress Dowager Zheng had passed, this woman had become the most devout, single-minded sutra-chanter in all of Daliang.
Since Empress Dowager Jiang wished to chant sutras, the nuns of Qingque Convent—having long since been quietly indoctrinated by the imperial household—naturally chanted along with her in apparent devotion.
Deliverance rites were deliverance rites; their daily devotions were much the same anyway. But ever since the day before yesterday, when Empress Dowager Jiang had let slip her wish to become a nun herself, every nun in the convent had felt disaster looming over her head, and their chanting inevitably lost its sincerity.
When it came to shrewdness, when it came to reading a room, Empress Dowager Jiang was second to none—she could hear the insincerity in the nuns’ voices from their chanting alone.
She gently closed the sutra book before her, pressed her palms together, and called Qiu Le over to instruct him: “Let the nuns go back to their quarters. Tomorrow I’ll chant alone—their minds are elsewhere, and a thousand recitations from them won’t match the effect of a single one from me.”
Eunuch Qiu acknowledged the order but didn’t leave, saying cautiously instead, “Ancestress, someone has come from the palace.”
Empress Dowager Jiang’s expression stayed indifferent. “Who is it?”
Eunuch Qiu watched her carefully. “Jingfu Hall.”
In the Daliang harem, from the Empress down to the several ranking consorts of the main palaces, each had her own private seal. Noble Consort Xiao’s was called Jingfu Hall; whenever the Empress issued a decree, besides the Empress’s official seal there was also one called Shou’an Hall.
Empress Dowager Jiang had lived outside the palace for years now, occasionally even going down the mountain to stay a while with the sisters from the incense-burning pilgrimage group. In such settings it wasn’t convenient to speak of “the Empress” or “the Noble Consort” outright, so people referred to them by their private seals instead.
Empress Dowager Jiang had no wish to see Noble Consort Xiao—nor, for that matter, did she care to see even her own beloved son or grandson anymore. She no longer wished to see any of them.
The woman had died, and before her death she had arranged everything that needed arranging with perfect clarity. Aside from securing one marriage for the younger generation of her bloodline, she’d let go of everything else.
She had wanted for nothing, desired nothing, to the point that Empress Dowager Jiang felt utterly hollowed out—she didn’t even know anymore what she herself had spent all these years fighting for.
The woman hadn’t cared for the old Commander-in-Chief at all, insisting on being buried alone. She hadn’t cared for power either—she’d quietly sold off all her wealth in life to fund His Majesty’s military campaigns, and only after she stopped breathing did her son discover his mother had left behind no fortune at all, not a single string of cash.
She hadn’t even wanted the title of Empress Dowager—she’d requested to be buried according to the rites of an ordinary consort.
In doing so she’d cut off her own path back—the vacant palace of Daliang, would she return to it? She never could again!
And yet, now that she’d died, her son suddenly thought everything about her had been perfect.
A few days ago some elders from the clan had come to persuade Empress Dowager Jiang to swallow her pride one more time in this life—after all, she was the Emperor’s birth mother, and there were still proprieties to observe; she ought to show the deference of a concubine before the deceased… at least see her off at the end.
Empress Dowager Jiang had left without a word!
Fifteen days later, they’d only just noticed that this birth mother of the Emperor had a grievance of her own.
No doubt they’d go back to muttering privately, as they always had, that she simply didn’t understand how things were done, didn’t know her place.
Empress Dowager Jiang said to Eunuch Qiu, “Tell her to go back.”
Eunuch Qiu knelt. “But what if Her Highness refuses to leave?”
Empress Dowager Jiang smiled faintly. “Tell her: a person only dies once in this life, and this is the last chance to fulfill one’s filial duty. Whether she comes or not makes no difference to me. I’ve always been the one who won’t listen to reason anyway. Everyone else is already up front weeping at the memorial hall—what does it say if she alone is missing? Why go handing anyone else a knife to use against her? Tell her: go back. Whatever else was between mother- and daughter-in-law, seeing it through to the end properly is best.”
Eunuch Qiu went out for a while and returned to report that Jingfu Hall had gone back.
Empress Dowager Jiang murmured a prayer to Buddha, then opened the sutra once more and resumed her devout chanting.
The Ancestress seemed almost to be punishing herself, tormenting herself to the point that Eunuch Qiu was pacing in circles with worry. Under ordinary circumstances he’d have already rushed back to the palace to send word—but he was powerless here. The Ancestress’s own son was ruler of all under heaven… and was currently keeping vigil for his legitimate mother, Empress Dowager Zheng. Who would dare disturb him with this?
What terrified Eunuch Qiu was the thought that His Majesty might return from the imperial tombs in half a month to find the Ancestress had already shaved her head and taken her vows.
Qiu Le had served Empress Dowager Jiang for so many years now that he, better than anyone, knew whether she truly meant to become a nun or was merely saying it to frighten people…
What frightened him more was the thought that if His Majesty returned and flew into a rage, he might not touch the nuns at all—but as head eunuch here, he himself would likely have a very hard time of it.
Eunuch Qiu stood outside the convent hall, pacing anxiously. Truth be told, he’d been pacing like this for fifteen days now, ever since Empress Dowager Zheng had died.
Today was the day Empress Dowager Zheng’s coffin was to be moved for burial, and his own spirit felt as though it too had been lifted right out of him—he simply couldn’t go on like this.
At noon, a nun brought in a bowl of thin gruel and a dish of pickled vegetables. Buddhist practice called for mindful moderation in eating, and the Ancestress wouldn’t allow more to be sent in—for fifteen days now she’d been sustaining herself on nothing more than this.
Thinking of the old Empress Dowager’s age, and looking at that meager meal, Qiu Le thought there was no need to wait for His Majesty to return from the imperial tombs at all—if things kept on like this, Daliang might well lose two Empress Dowagers in a single month.
Perhaps from standing before the Buddha so long, or from following the old Empress Dowager in worship so much, Qiu Le’s mind had grown rather particular these days; a wicked thought crossed his mind, and realizing it was wrong, he turned to kowtow toward the temple and began slapping himself across the face, left and right.
Just as he was really getting into the rhythm of it, he heard someone behind him ask in surprised, somewhat hoarse tones: “Well now, isn’t this Steward Qiu? What in the world are you doing, slapping yourself silly at the temple gate?”
In that instant, Eunuch Qiu’s anxious, helpless heart felt as though a spring breeze had blown through it. He spun around, delighted, to see the somewhat haggard Old Madam of the Chen family being helped forward by a servant.
Ah, yes—how could he have forgotten this living Bodhisattva? The Ancestress might listen to no one else in this world, but she’d always listen to this one.
Two lines of tears streamed at once down the old eunuch’s orange-peel wrinkled cheeks. He leapt up and rushed over. “Oh, Buddha be praised! Ancestress! What in the world brings you here? Weren’t only titled ladies of rank supposed to attend the funeral?”
The Old Madam, leaning on Yiyue’s arm, said with some pride, “Of course I went to see her off—these past half-month nearly wore this old body out. Luckily His Majesty took pity on the poor and the elderly; when the coffin was moved, he issued a decree that, to accumulate merit for the old Empress Dowager, any elder who needed a cane could go home.”
Eunuch Qiu nodded, then asked in surprise, “Such boundless imperial grace, boundless grace indeed—then why haven’t you gone home to rest?”
The Old Madam looked at him strangely. This old turtle’s grandson of a steward, ordinarily so full of himself he practically tilted his nose up to catch rainwater—why was he acting like this today?
She’d scolded him plenty in the past, so she scolded him just the same today.
The Old Madam shook her head, giving him a look that said she wouldn’t bother arguing with a fool. “Go home? Who dares go home right now? Never mind anywhere else—in Qinwei Lane alone, how many little ones haven’t even turned three yet, their roots not even settled? Coming back from a funeral this enormous, an old Empress Dowager returning to Heaven—who knows how many civil officials, military officers, and little ghosts she might drag along to lead the way before her? And you want me to go home? Look at you, dressed up like a proper person, yet you don’t understand the simplest truths of this world. Not enough slaps to knock some sense into you…”
Eunuch Qiu was extraordinarily meek today. He helped the Old Madam inside, and once they’d entered the convent hall, he wouldn’t even let her go rest in her usual meditation room—he insisted on taking her to sit with her old sworn sister instead.
The Old Madam yanked her arm free of his grip, raised her own cane, and struck him with it, scolding, “Such nerve! Since when do you get to decide where I go?”
These past few days she too had knelt and wept properly on the formal stage of mourning, surrounded on all sides by ladies of the highest rank. Everyone had wailed together, and the Old Madam had reeled off string after string of laments—she had ten volumes’ worth of grievances bottled up inside her, and she hadn’t dared weep them out at home for fear her deceased kin’s spirits might see and refuse to be reincarnated.
Now, at last, she’d finally been given her chance, and she’d wailed her heart out, poured out every grievance—when she worked herself into true anguish, she could move everyone around her, men and women alike, to weep along with her as though the heavens themselves were falling.
At first she’d wept in the back rows; later, once many of the noblewomen’s voices had gone hoarse, the Old Madam had somehow become quite the talent, respectfully escorted to the front to lead the wailing.
She’d truly stolen the show that day—His Majesty had even sent her meals repeatedly, worried the Old Madam of the Chen family might exhaust herself.
The cane in the Old Madam’s hand was an imperial gift, so when she struck Eunuch Qiu with it, he had to kneel and take it. After a few blows, he begged pitifully, “Old Madam, please, persuade my Ancestress for me! She, she truly insists on becoming a nun…”
The Old Madam froze, her eyes going round.
Eunuch Qiu stared at her hard and nodded emphatically. “She truly means to take her vows.”
Empress Dowager Jiang had finished her meal and, after a brief rest, was about to resume her chanting when she suddenly heard someone outside calling her in a hoarse voice: “Oh, my dear old sister, these past days have worn your little sister out something terrible—open the door, quick! Have some pity on me…”
That voice was very familiar. Empress Dowager Jiang’s circle of acquaintances was small, and Sister Jiang—as she called her—was one of the few people she genuinely, wholeheartedly cared for.
Even so, she finished her chanting properly, closed the sutra book, and only then rose to open the door.
“What’s the matter, asking me for pity like that… oh my, how did you get so thin? And your voice has gone hoarse too?”
“Ah! Old sister, we haven’t seen each other in a few days and you’ve turned into a bundle of firewood!”
The two of them spoke over each other, each fretting over the other’s condition, then fell silent, then both burst out laughing.
Once the laughter died down, the Old Madam leaned in, sniffed at the smell of incense filling the hall, and shook her head, pleading, “Old sister, I’ve spent these fifteen days steeped in incense smoke day and night. Won’t you at least come out and get some fresh air with me, let me eat a proper meal in comfort? Please?”
What was there to refuse? Especially when it was this particular person doing the asking.
Empress Dowager Jiang nodded readily and, remarkably smoothly, stepped out of the prayer hall she hadn’t left in fifteen days, following the Old Madam to the dining hall nearby. Quietly, without a word, the attendants brought out two full vegetarian meals. Once it was set before her, how could she not eat it?
With someone beside her wolfing down her own food with great gusto, Empress Dowager Jiang found herself forced to eat a bit more too—mainly because she didn’t dare leave a single bite unfinished.
After the two old women finished their meal, the Old Madam pulled her along to a room with a heated brick bed to rest. Once they’d half-reclined, rather than asking her old sister why she wanted to become a nun, the Old Madam simply launched into bragging.
“Heh! Dying is dying, but that woman certainly didn’t die for nothing—even people just barely breathing were stirred up over it, and the crowds, you couldn’t even count them… the everlasting lamps laid out before her spirit tablet stretched on and on, couldn’t count those either… truly the imperial family, so much money! Even the lamp-tending was done so thoroughly—I quietly watched a few of the lamps myself, thinking, surely with that many, some must go untended eventually!
Heh! But those were sharp ones gathered there, all right—the moment a lamp had barely half a finger’s width of oil left, out from somewhere would pop a few little eunuchs to quietly top it off. Truly, not the smallest detail was neglected, tsk tsk tsk… The Empress runs that household so well, so truly capable! I used to think our own Qian’er was the most capable one around—heh heh, when I get back I’ll have to bring this up, give her a good ribbing over it, that little wretch never holds her tongue…”
Empress Dowager Jiang was rather curious about all this excitement, unable to go see it herself, and no one else would ever gossip with her like this—so she listened closely.
She feigned indifference. “Well, that’s… rather good, then. Not entirely wasted, at least…”
The Old Madam handed her a soft cushion to prop behind her lower back, helped her settle comfortably, and only then began rolling her eyes.
“Old sister, listen to yourself—what do you mean ‘rather good’? I won’t lie before the Buddha, but if you ask me, another day alive is worth living. Once you’re dead, who suffers for it? All this grandeur now, and the dead—what do they even know of it? It’s all just for the living to see.
Heavens, hundreds of people wailing away like that—you can’t say this to just anyone, but between us, I honestly think… hmph, that old woman was a pitiable soul. Counting myself included, there wasn’t a single person there who wept for her out of true feeling…”
Empress Dowager Jiang was startled. “Surely not—the old Empress Dowager was upright in character. Never mind Yandu, back in Shaoshang countless people benefited from her protection. How could no one have wept for her sincerely?”
The Old Madam wasn’t one to mince words with her—in her eyes, this was simply her dear old sister, someone she could tell every last thought to.
She patted Empress Dowager Jiang’s leg and said, “Heh, I don’t know about anyone else, but plenty of people around me were dabbing something onto their handkerchiefs to fake it. In this bitter cold, the memorial hall only had a few flames going, cold and damp as could be—even genuine grief would’ve been driven right back inside a person in that weather, oh…
Her own Zheng family relatives, I thought were all rather ordinary too, so how could you expect outsiders to weep with real feeling? My sworn in-law pointed a few out to me—dabbing ginger juice on their handkerchiefs to fake tears? Heh, ungrateful, black-hearted wretches, tsk—can’t even claim her as their own blood and still won’t bare their hearts before the Buddha’s all-seeing eye for her sake. You think Buddha can’t tell black from red? Hah?”
Empress Dowager Jiang’s fingers twitched, and the corners of her eyes reddened.
Seeing her tear up, the Old Madam hurried to wipe her tears, saying, “Ai-yah, sister, look at you, what a heavy heart you carry. If soft-heartedness could win you first place in the imperial examinations, you’d surely take the top honor. That old woman deserves pity, sure, but did you see the burial goods sent along with her?”
The Old Madam let go of her own arm and declared in an exaggerated tone, “I—damn it, pardon my language, pretend you didn’t hear that!—when I heard from my own Qian’er that she’d be dressed in thirteen layers for burial, I thought, dying right then and there would’ve been worth it! And look at her, that old Empress Dowager, sleeping amid piles of gold and jade, a whole room of porcelain, a whole room of money! Silks and brocades each in their own separate room! That’s not a grave she’s sleeping in, that’s a whole grand town buried underground! Not like us—the moment we die, dig a hole, toss the body in feet-first, and be grateful to Heaven for even granting us that pit to lie in…”
The Old Madam had her laughing and crying at once. She grabbed her hand and patted it twice, saying, “Now don’t talk like that—are you thinking of them again?”
But the Old Madam shook her head. “No, I finally got my chance, and I’ve been weeping for them for fifteen days straight now—it’s been such a relief, truly!”
Empress Dowager Jiang glanced toward the door, coughed once, then pointed at the Old Madam, scolding her with a laugh, “Watch your mouth.”
The Old Madam paid it no mind. “Aren’t I right here with you? My own Qian’er puts it well—live a few more years, we’ve got food and drink enough, so why not… cough… right? Eat what you can, wear what you like, and when death comes you’ll have no regrets. Isn’t that right, old sister?”
Empress Dowager Jiang only smiled. “Everyone’s different.”
The Old Madam glared, arguing back, “Impossible—when it comes to eating and drinking, everyone’s the same deep down. It’s just you, stuck in this temple day after day, thinking too much.”
Empress Dowager Jiang rolled her eyes. “You’re sitting right under the Buddha’s eaves, and at your age you’ll say absolutely anything, won’t you?”
The Old Madam refused to admit it. “I haven’t said anything wrong. I’m completely honest with the Buddha, and the Buddha loves me for my honesty. I was just thinking… today, in the carriage, I asked why there weren’t any burial goods being carried out along with the procession, and they laughed and told me it had all been placed in the imperial tomb ahead of time. That’s when I realized—the wealth of this world is different for everyone, but death itself is the same for all, isn’t it?
However rich you were, everyone else knows it—except you, the one who died. You’re gone, you don’t know anything anymore.
My own Qian’er put it well—that old Empress Dowager spent her whole life managing things on His Majesty’s behalf, and even after he became the wise and enlightened Son of Heaven, she still worried herself over affairs, still wanted a hand in managing things.
A person has only two eyes and one mouth—how much can you really take in and carry in your heart? See too much, and you burn yourself out like oil in a lamp. What was the point, really… isn’t that right, old sister? What are you thinking about?”
The Old Madam always managed to leave Empress Dowager Jiang speechless. She herself hadn’t seen much of the world before, and had later been kept by the Yang family simply to bear children.
Obedience, submission—that was what she’d been bound to follow her whole life. The greatest rebellion she’d ever managed was simply: I can’t defeat you, so I’ll leave, and never see you again, is that all right?
Hearing the Old Madam call her name, Empress Dowager Jiang finally roused from her thoughts. She took the Old Madam’s hand and said, “Sister, shall the two of us go for a walk?”
The Old Madam smiled, sat up, and nodded. “Sure, let’s go for a walk…”
After the snow, Qingque Convent had been swept spotless everywhere by unnamed hands.
The two old women supported each other, speaking their hearts before the Buddha.
“Sister.”
“Yes, sister—this is really weighing on you, isn’t it?”
“Ah… mm… these past few days I’ve been thinking… in this life, why do I always lose? How is it that even in the matter of life and death, I’ve lost too? I feel so stifled, so miserable, I just want to end it all once and for all…”
The Old Madam took Empress Dowager Jiang’s hand and patted it silently.
“What use is dying? None at all, old sister. What’s winning, what’s losing? Useless, all of it! Money jingling in your pocket—that’s the only real thing there is. Everything else is nonsense. My daughter-in-law, and those other women’s affairs—remember?”
“Amitabha, I remember, I remember…”
“Dying by the roadside, eyes still open, body left out to dry—the living’s sense of shame has nothing to do with the dead. Whether it’s your own flesh and blood or not, when you’re just trying to survive, you don’t dare cry, don’t dare fight for anything—that’s what real suffering looks like.
I’m not exaggerating, but caring so much about all this really isn’t worth much… Back in the day, my Ding Xiang and I used to go clean up battlefields—every single time, there were thousands of strong young men lying there, and the old soldiers passing by would sometimes spot one who hadn’t quite stopped breathing yet and finish him off with another stab, treating him like he wasn’t even human anymore…
Every one of them was just a young boy, not even grown. I remember thinking then—this too was some mother’s flesh and blood, some child whose father waited by the door for him to come home, and he’d never make it back. Once you’re dead, you’re just gone—but I had to keep living, I had to get through that winter somehow. What did it matter to me who he was or what he’d been? What mattered was that thick padded coat on his body—bloody as it was, I had to strip it off to keep myself warm… Look out for yourself. Everything else is false.”
Empress Dowager Jiang looked at the Old Madam, murmured another prayer to Buddha, and after they’d walked a while longer together said, “In a few days, let’s hold a rite of deliverance for all those lost, wandering souls.”
The Old Madam nodded eagerly. “Yes, we should, we should. I’ve karmic debts of my own from the past—I ought to do some good deeds. This life has been bitter enough as it is; at the very least, I can pray for a better one next time. The Buddha’s watching over us, isn’t that right?”
Empress Dowager Jiang looked back at the great hall behind them and nodded with a smile. “Yes, pray for a good next life—escape into a man’s body, get an education early, leave home early, go see how vast this world really is.”
The Old Madam clapped her hands. “Then I’ll have to work twice as hard! Old sister, my own Qian’er says the elderly and the young have such a hard time in winter, and the beggars in the old city are struggling badly this year… The two of us old women, how much can we really eat or drink? I keep thinking, I used to be so obsessed with my own troubles, tangled up over the past, over old grudges—but then I realized, they’ve long since forgotten all about it!
You, an old woman with one foot in the grave already, can’t even chew anything hard anymore with those teeth of yours! If the ungrateful ones want to be ungrateful, then let them be ungrateful—what can you do about it? If someone wants to forget you, they’ll find a thousand excuses to justify it. What you want to ask for, you can’t get no matter how hard you beg, and crying yourself to death won’t change a thing… good or bad, it’s all the same…”
The Old Madam took Empress Dowager Jiang’s hand and said with a smile, “Let’s just leave it all to the Buddha, let the old fellow arrange things for the two of us as he sees fit, shall we? Is that all right?”
Empress Dowager Jiang looked down at the snow-covered world below the mountain, then knelt devoutly before heaven and earth, and there made her vow from that day forward to deliver all sentient beings and give aid to the old and the orphaned.
As for that palace of Daliang—she never returned to it again, not until the day she died.