As midsummer arrived, the May sun became unbearably scorching. Ming Tan, sensitive to heat, spent most of her days in the cool room by the lotus pond. Qi’an Hall was never without ice.
Fortunately, the day for the Emperor’s move to Yongchun Garden was approaching.
Yongchun Garden, the royal summer retreat, lived up to its name – “Eternal Spring.” Emperor Taizong had once designated ten scenic spots as the “Ten Views of Eternal Spring.” When renowned scholars of the previous dynasty visited, they composed ten poems praising these views, which later became widely circulated.
Even a simplified imperial move involved a grand procession. Jiang Xu, averse to the commotion, brought Ming Tan to the garden two days after the imperial entourage’s departure.
Emperor Chengkang had reserved a place called “Spring Star Pavilion” for Jiang Xu.
As they arrived, Ming Tan gazed up at the plaque. The calligraphy was striking, with a familiar quality she couldn’t quite place.
She smiled in admiration, “”Dark waters flow…, spring stars adorn the grass pavilion.’ What a beautiful name, and exquisite calligraphy too.”
Hearing this, Jiang Xu glanced at her.
The guide, grinning, chimed in, “The prince is highly talented. Naturally, his choice of name is excellent, as is his calligraphy.”
Ming Tan’s smile froze.
Her husband had named this place? And the calligraphy… Ah, she finally realized why it seemed familiar. She had once seen her husband’s writing in his study – it had the same sharp strokes as the plaque.
She had intended to subtly compliment the Emperor in front of the attendant, given how the Emperor always thought of her husband when something good came along…
Jiang Xu, seemingly seeing through her intentions, addressed the attendant coolly, “Convey our thanks to His Majesty on behalf of myself and the princess.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
After the attendant left, Jiang Xu strode forward, hands clasped behind his back. Ming Tan followed, taking in her surroundings. “Husband,” she asked curiously, “have you stayed here before? Why is it called ‘Spring Star Pavilion’?”
“The night view is quite lovely.”
The night view? Ming Tan looked up at the sky. She imagined a clear night, stars twinkling, a brook gurgling nearby. She pictured herself playing the qin in the pavilion, with her husband accompanying her on the flute or xiao. What a beautiful scene. Oh, right – could her husband play those instruments?
She hurried to ask him.
“No, but I can wield a sword,” he replied.
Ming Tan was speechless.
Seeing her silence, he asked, “Didn’t you once say that sword dancing accompanied by qin music was a form of marital harmony?”
“Well, being skilled with a sword and performing sword dances aren’t quite the same thing, are they?”
She hadn’t forgotten his feat of slicing a green calyx from ten zhang away when demonstrating his skills.
Now it was Jiang Xu’s turn to fall silent.
Spring Star Pavilion was located in the northern part of Yongchun Garden, an area typically reserved for the imperial clan.
The western side housed the imperial consorts. Ming Tan had heard that some consorts had already quarreled over their accommodations. She initially didn’t understand – weren’t there only five consorts? How could there not be enough rooms?
Later, she learned that the Emperor had originally planned to bring only five, but the palace women were alluring. One would coyly seek favor one day, and another would appear pitiful the next. The Emperor, being a passionate man, had doubled the number of accompanying consorts in just half a month.
During her conversation with the Empress, Ming Tan had only glimpsed the tip of the iceberg regarding harem conflicts. But that glimpse was enough to make her want to keep her distance.
She resolved to avoid the western area of Yongchun Garden during their stay if at all possible.
After two uneventful days, Empress Zhang sent for her to watch a play at the theater pavilion, mentioning that fresh lychees from the south had arrived.
Ming Tan set aside her book, thinking that watching a play, sipping tea, and eating lychees would be enjoyable. She had heard the theater had been fitted with cooling rooms, so the heat wouldn’t be an issue.
She didn’t refuse, carefully prepared herself and left at the appointed time.
On her way, she encountered the Third Prince, a mischievous child who ignored his nanny and attendants, insisting on climbing a treacherous rockery. Concerned for his safety, Ming Tan patiently tried to dissuade him.
She was about to send for the Empress when, to her surprise, the little boy, charmed by her beauty, heeded her words. He obediently came down, shyly ran up to her, planted a quick kiss on her cheek, and scampered off.
Ming Tan was delighted, thinking to herself that she must be quite popular with children.
However, this delay meant Ming Tan arrived at the theater after everyone else. She paid her respects to Empress Zhang and explained her tardiness.
The Empress, of course, didn’t mind. She was selecting plays and, seeing Ming Tan arrive, smiled warmly and beckoned her over. “Come, look at the program. Is there any play you’d like to see?”
The plays Ming Tan usually watched with Bai Minmin were mostly about eloping lovers, but such themes were forbidden in the palace. So she conservatively chose a play with a happy ending.
After Ming Tan made her selection, Empress Zhang passed the program to Noble Consort Jiashu for her choice.
Ming Tan was surprised. In just half a month, Jia Guiyin, who wasn’t originally supposed to accompany the Emperor, had not only joined the trip but had been promoted to Noble Consort Jiashu.
She glanced at the radiant Noble Consort Jiashu, who barely skimmed the program before touching her hair and saying, “I’ve grown tired of these plays. Why don’t we perform ‘Mencius’ Mother’s Three Moves’? Can you perform it?”
“Yes, Noble Consort, we can,” came the reply.
Satisfied, she closed the program and turned to Empress Zhang. “I’m not sure why, but since I’ve been carrying this little prince, I’ve been constantly thinking about the future, even considering how to educate him. His Majesty visited yesterday and said that with such an anxious mother, the prince in my womb might turn out to be quite impatient too.”
So she was with child. That explained it.
But to assert it was a prince when even the royal physicians couldn’t determine the gender – her intentions were far too transparent.
Sure enough, another consort soon chimed in, “How can Noble Consort Jia be so certain it’s a prince? What if it’s a princess?”
Noble Consort Jia’s face darkened. She didn’t respond directly but exchanged a glance with a beautifully dressed woman beside her.
The woman quickly interjected, “A prince or princess, both are blessings. After all, they’re all for expanding His Majesty’s lineage. Besides, being able to conceive is Noble Consort Jia’s good fortune. It’s certainly better than some who can’t conceive at all.” As she finished, both she and Noble Consort Jia glanced at Consort Lan.
Consort Lan, dressed in moonlight-white palace robes, remained focused on the stage, her expression impassive.
Though she remained silent, other consorts spoke up in her defense.
Ming Tan delicately peeled lychees, eating as she listened to the consorts’ back-and-forth. Her face betrayed nothing, but inwardly she found this drama far more entertaining than the one on stage.
Objectively, Ming Tan could understand why Consort Lan was favored. Her beauty and talents were exceptional, and her composure in the face of Noble Consort Jia’s clamor was admirable.
Midway through the performance, Consort Su arrived late. She explained that the Fourth Princess, under her care, had been spitting up, and she’d stayed until the princess fell asleep.
Empress Zhang, of course, didn’t mind. She had the program sent over and kindly said, “We saved a slot for you. See which play you’d like.”
Consort Su accepted the program with a smile. After perusing it, she suddenly turned to Consort Lan beside her. “Sister, which do you prefer – ‘Rain on the Wutong Tree’ or ‘The Round Moon’?”
Consort Lan pondered, “”Rain on the Wutong Tree’ is a bit sad.”
Consort Su nodded, “Then let’s go with ‘The Round Moon,’ as Consort Lan suggests.”
As soon as Consort Su finished speaking, Noble Consort Jia laughed, her tone loaded with implications. “So Consort Lan likes this play. Well, it’s about Lady Wang’s betrothal and deep love with her husband. It’s indeed enviable. I wonder if the Princess of North Ding likes this play?”
Ming Tan inwardly sighed. Even watching a play wasn’t peaceful.
‘The Round Moon’ was a famous play from the previous dynasty. It told the story of Lady Wang, whose husband went missing in battle. She refused to remarry, caring for her elderly mother and young son alone. Years later, her husband returned in glory, and they lived happily ever after.
Noble Consort Jia’s mention of the betrothal was accurate, but it was only briefly mentioned in the play. Most people admired Lady Wang’s loyalty and kindness. By singling out the betrothal, Noble Consort Jia’s intention to stir up trouble was obvious.
Consort Lan hadn’t considered this angle. She paused her fan-waving and instinctively looked at Ming Tan.
Others followed suit. As the Emperor’s chosen Princess of North Ding from a prominent family, if Ming Tan took a dislike to Consort Lan, it could lead to interesting developments.
However, to their disappointment, while Ming Tan enjoyed watching plays, she didn’t enjoy being the subject of one.
“It’s a wonderful play,” Ming Tan said with a smile. “Lady Wang’s unwavering loyalty and her husband’s patriotism and integrity are admirable. It seems Consort Lan and I share similar tastes.” She raised her lychee wine in a distant toast to Consort Lan.
Consort Lan, slightly taken aback, nodded in acknowledgment and took a sip.
Noble Consort Jia, frustrated by Ming Tan’s deft deflection, couldn’t help but remark sarcastically, “I didn’t realize the Princess had such a good capacity for alcohol and an even better capacity for forgiveness.”
Ming Tan replied with a gentle smile and voice, “Noble Consort Jia is fortunate. When my elder sister was with her child, she would feel nauseous after just three sentences. Her morning sickness was quite severe.”
The implication was clear: unlike you, who can’t stop talking despite being pregnant.
“By the way, does Noble Consort Jia read daily? I’ve heard that whatever a mother reads and says, the child in her womb will imitate after birth.”
This suggested that: stop spreading gossip and set a better example for your unborn child.
Noble Consort Jia clearly understood, her face turning sour.
Though initially wary of Ming Tan’s status, Noble Consort Jia had grown up pampered and hadn’t faced much adversity in the palace. Emboldened by her pregnancy, she spoke impulsively.
“For someone who hasn’t been pregnant, the Princess seems to know a lot. I hear the North Ding Prince’s mansion hasn’t produced an heir yet. Perhaps the Princess should focus on that. If it’s too challenging, maybe consider sharing the burden. After all, His Highness is our kingdom’s war god, and continuing his lineage is crucial.”
While Noble Consort Jia spoke without thinking, she had touched on Ming Tan’s sore spot. As Ming Tan was about to respond, two tall figures entered the cool room.
Jiang Xu glanced at Noble Consort Jia before his gaze settled on Ming Tan, whose cheeks were flushed from the lychee wine. His voice was cold, as if steeped in ice, with a hint of nonchalance: “I wasn’t aware that a mere Noble Consort could make decisions for the North Ding Prince’s household.”