When meeting Empress Zhangsun again, Wei Shubin felt more nervous than ever before.
The Mother of the Nation, supported by her maids, appeared dignified yet delicate. Her attire was neat and proper, with light makeup that effectively concealed her true condition. While all noble ladies had gathered at Wanshan Temple in formal dress, they couldn’t wear celebratory or bright clothing since the Former Emperor’s coffin was still en route to burial. The Empress wore only simple hairpins and changed into a dark cyan-colored plain robe with wide sleeves.
The noble ladies attending on the upper floor of the temple mostly wore plain clothes with formal headpieces. Wei Shubin particularly noticed that the former Sui Dynasty’s Empress Xiao—who had been secretly living as a nun named Ji Nan in this temple for many years—and Princess Dehua Yang Guanniang both wore false hairpieces, formal caps with ribbons, and official robes for the ceremony. Empress Zhangsun showed them special courtesy, having seats placed on either side of her and inviting the two noble ladies of the former Sui royal family to sit with her.
Among the gathering of elegantly dressed noble ladies, the Empress stood out with her refined speech, composed demeanor, and impeccable etiquette that transcended worldly matters. No one could find any fault with her. But the closer Wei Shubin stood and observed her, the more frightened she became, feeling that this flawless woman seemed less than human.
Her voice was soft, her smile ethereal, and her eyes often seemed lost in bottomless dark pools. When her wide sleeves occasionally swept back, they revealed bony wrists as delicate as jade. Her appearance, barely maintained by clothing and makeup, seemed to lack substance, resembling more the beautiful women Wei Shubin had seen painted on screens in noble houses or the palace.
Yes, thought Minister Wei’s eldest daughter, the Empress was like a screen painted with stories from “Biographies of Exemplary Women”—specifically a translucent summer screen that could tear at the slightest touch and collapse with the gentlest shake.
Yet as long as it remained undisturbed, such a screen could stand and serve its purpose for quite some time. Wei Shubin stood behind Yang Guanniang—now renamed Princess Xihai and granted the surname Li by the Tang court—listening to her quiet conversation with Empress Zhangsun as they watched the polo game on the street below.
Wei Shubin still didn’t know how to console Yang Xinzhi’s birth mother, despite many attempts. To ensure her only son could grow up in his ancestral home in the Central Plains, Guanniang had endured humiliation, assumed false identities, lived in obscurity, and suffered hardships for over a decade. She had even attempted suicide—how could such resolute determination be swayed by mere words of persuasion?
Empress Zhangsun didn’t try to “persuade” her either. The Empress made no mention of past events, but sat behind the balcony railing watching the polo field, first praising “your son’s fine appearance,” then commenting that with his physique, looks, loyal nature, and superior martial skills, he would excel anywhere and surely win his father’s love and popular support.
What mother doesn’t love hearing praise for her son, especially when every word rings true? Standing behind Guanniang, Wei Shubin couldn’t see her expression but heard her responses grow more animated, and noticed her back straightening, even the ornamental flowers on her formal cap seemed to perk up.
This was good, at least Yang Xinzhi would feel better. Yesterday, Wei Shubin had helped him carry his unconscious mother to the Honglu Temple guesthouse. After the treatment and care were finished and everyone else had left, the tall strong man sank to his knees in exhaustion, laying his upper body across his mother’s sickbed with his face buried. Wei Shubin had meant to leave them alone, but as she rose, she heard Yang Xinzhi’s muffled voice:
“Lady Wei… from what you’ve heard in the palace, must I… truly…”
He raised his face, which was surprisingly wet with tears:
“Am I… really… must I go?”
Though his voice was thick with emotion and his words jumbled, Wei Shubin understood what he meant. She sat back down by the bed and softly confirmed:
“You are. You must go.”
“It’s not that I fear hardship… I just… don’t want to be…”
Yang Xinzhi choked back a sob and buried his face in his arms again. Wei Shubin waited a moment, then boldly reached out to pat his shoulder in comfort.
He was Murong Shun’s only son and had to go to Tuyuhun to reunite with his birth father, taking his birth mother with him. From then on, they would live in that distant frontier land of wind and sand, far from his familiar friends and the prosperous Central Plains. The hardships he could endure—he had already prepared himself to accompany Li Yuangui to Gaochang on official business, expecting to be away for years. But he couldn’t accept his true identity. No matter how much mistreatment he had endured, he had always considered himself a son of the Guanlong nobility—how could he suddenly become… a barbarian prince?
“Young Master… Yang, try to look at the bright side. At least you and your mother can be reunited, and she won’t have to endure the austere life of a temple anymore. When you reach your homeland, your mother will be properly installed as queen, living in luxury, and you’ll have the opportunity to demonstrate your talents. With Master Fourteen in Gaochang and you in Tuyuhun, you can support each other and achieve great things…”
Wei Shubin exhausted herself trying to console him, and whether because her words had reached him or he had simply cried himself out, his breathing gradually steadied. As night was falling, Wei Shubin took her leave to return to Zixu Temple. The next morning, she brought supplies and hurried to the guesthouse early to accompany the mother and son to Xixiang Ward.
What comforted Minister Wei’s eldest daughter was discovering that her approach to consoling Yang Xinzhi closely paralleled Empress Zhangsun’s method of persuading his mother. After praising “your son” at length, the Empress went on to discuss Tuyuhun’s customs, people, royal city, and army, describing its vast territory and extensive pastures, noting that even royal women frequently rode horses and joined hunting parties, unlike the confined lives of noble ladies in Han territory. Though the tribal people were warlike, they were straightforward and generous and had always revered the Murong royal family. When mother and son reached Fuyi City, they would surely live comfortably and freely, far better than their days of depending on others in Chang’an or living with temple lamps and Buddha.
“In the eighth year of Wude, the Former Emperor sent Li Anyuan, Duke of Guangde, as envoy to Tuyuhun. The two countries were at peace then, and when old Khan Fuyun requested to establish a border market at Chengfeng Fort, the Former Emperor agreed,” the Empress’s tone carried a note of yearning. “At that time, China was in turmoil, people lacked oxen and horses for farming, while Tuyuhun herders were short of grain and clothing. When the two countries opened trade, supplementing each other’s needs, merchants flocked there. Within a few years, the valleys around Chengfeng Fort were filled with livestock, the people prospered, and songs and dances filled the streets. Even in Chang’an, I heard His Majesty and the ministers praise those conditions. Later, Murong Fuyun listened to slander and raided our border counties, souring relations between our countries, and ultimately bringing about his downfall. Now as you go to Fuyi City to assist your husband in ruling, if you can focus on the people’s livelihood and maintain peaceful relations between our nations, restoring the former prosperity of the border region, wouldn’t that be wonderful? Though we are women, if we can serve the state and its people wholeheartedly and achieve such merit, our lives will not have been lived in vain.”
She had said all this in one breath and was somewhat short of breath by the end. Former Sui Empress Xiao, seated on the Empress’s other side, continued: “The Palace speaks truly. During the previous dynasty, when Guanniang was first selected to be a princess for the marriage alliance, this old nun—this guilty one—also encouraged her thus… Ah… this guilty one has spoken out of turn…”
Wei Shubin looked at the former empress, current empress, and Tuyuhun queen before her, then couldn’t help glancing at the Wanshan Temple’s guest-receiving nun standing nearby—the last empress of Northern Zhou, Sima Lingji—feeling a complex mix of emotions.
The procession wasn’t complete: another empress—the future Mother of the Nation and current Crown Princess Su Lingyu—lifted her robes to climb the stairs, approaching them as noble ladies along her path bowed and made way. She walked up to Empress Zhangsun, curtsied, and whispered a few words. The Empress nodded and said, “Good that you’ve brought it. Place it in the cabinet first; we’ll deal with it after watching the polo match.”
Crown Princess Su acknowledged the instruction and, after directing the servants, took her place standing behind her mother-in-law, next to Wei Shubin. The two women couldn’t formally greet each other but exchanged quiet glances, each seeing encouragement and comfort in the other’s eyes.
Su Lingyu’s gaze then dropped to the square package in Wei Shubin’s hands. Her gaze seemed to have physical weight, making Minister Wei’s eldest daughter’s arms ache. This package was the reason Wei Shubin had actively sought an audience with Empress Zhangsun today.