In the spring of Jing Hong’s tenth year, an unknown epidemic broke out. Emperor Jing Hong repeatedly dispatched imperial physicians from the Imperial Medical Bureau and sent important ministers among the common people to respectfully invite renowned doctors, yet the epidemic could not be brought under control and even showed signs of spreading.
Faced with the epidemic, everyone was in danger. There were few pedestrians on the streets, and even the most prosperous capital became more desolate than usual. Whenever anyone coughed or sneezed, passersby would flee in panic and anxiety, afraid that if they ran a step too late, they would contract the disease.
Although Emperor Jing Hong dispatched renowned physicians and medicinal materials to the hardest-hit areas of the epidemic, as the epidemic could not be effectively controlled, some rumors began to spread. For instance, they said Emperor Jing Hong had obtained his position improperly, so heaven sent down punishment, making the common people suffer.
Some also said that when Kong Hou Xianzi was in Emperor Jing Hong’s harem, she was abused by the emperor and empress—she couldn’t eat her fill, couldn’t dress warmly, had to do embroidery work until the third watch every day, and was often beaten and scolded. Ordinary common people didn’t know how the nobles in the palace lived, so they could only imagine Kong Hou as a little girl tormented by a stepfather or stepmother. Thinking of it this way, they suddenly felt Kong Hou was pitiful.
In regions not infected by the epidemic, the common people hid in their courtyards, slapping their thighs and cursing that the current emperor was unkind—he himself drank meat porridge and ate noodles with three spoonfuls of oil added, yet wouldn’t even give Kong Hou Xianzi leftover food. They had finally lived a few good years, and now misfortune was upon them again.
When the rumors reached the officials’ ears, these officials dared not report them upward, only mentioning “slight popular resentment” in their memorials. How could Emperor Jing Hong not guess that rumors would spread wildly among the people? But now was not the time to be concerned about such things, nor was there any way to be concerned.
During these days, he had invited renowned physicians, gathered medicinal materials, and even written a self-reproaching edict to burn as an offering to heaven, yet the epidemic still had not been alleviated. After several consecutive days of being unable to eat or sleep, Emperor Jing Hong had become quite haggard. But on the second day of the fourth month of Jing Hong’s tenth year, before the hour of yin had even arrived, he began bathing and burning incense, dressed in a black dragon robe. He didn’t ride in a carriage or have palace attendants support him, but stopped every three steps and bowed every nine steps as he came before the altar established by the Imperial Astronomical Bureau.
The altar had been constructed overnight by three major departments—the Imperial Astronomical Bureau, the Palace Administration, and the Ministry of Works. Though it lacked some solemnity, all the proper specifications and etiquette were complete, not missing a single element.
“Father Emperor.” Seeing Emperor Jing Hong’s haggard appearance, the Crown Prince wanted to step forward to support him but was pushed away by Emperor Jing Hong: “No need.”
Seeking the gods required sincerity in one’s heart. He and Ji Kong Hou already had old grievances between them. If he showed disrespect during the great sacrificial ceremony, Kong Hou would probably be even less willing to manifest her divine presence. After descending the sacrificial platform, Emperor Jing Hong swept aside his robe and knelt down.
“Father Emperor!”
The various imperial princes reacted very strongly upon seeing Emperor Jing Hong kneel. In their eyes, their omnipotent father had actually knelt down just like that?
“No clamor before the altar!” The Crown Prince’s expression also looked unpleasant, but thinking of those common people trapped in despair, he bit his teeth and knelt down as well. The deposed Emperor Ji had been tyrannical and cruel, plunging the common people into misery. He and Father Emperor had overthrown the Ji family’s rule—there was nothing wrong with that.
But why was heaven so unjust? Since Father Emperor ascended the throne, he had worked himself to exhaustion, eliminating tyranny and cruelty, executing corrupt officials, killing bandits, letting the common people live peaceful and prosperous lives. He had not violated the way of a monarch. Why then could heaven not tolerate him?
If kneeling could obtain heaven’s forgiveness and make the heavens spare the innocent common people, what did it matter to kneel?
The other imperial princes, who were still indignant and resentful, saw the Crown Prince kneel and resentfully put away their dissatisfied expressions, kneeling down in small groups of twos and threes.
Military generals, civil officials, guards, and eunuchs all knelt down one after another. The entire scene fell completely silent.
The sun gradually reached midheaven. The azure sky was cloudless. As time passed bit by bit, everyone’s hearts sank bit by bit.
Emperor Jing Hong tremblingly crawled on his knees to the sacrificial table, took out a book of self-reproach from his sleeve, lit it, and threw it into the tripod. Facing the jade stele on the altar carved with Kong Hou Xianzi’s name, he performed the great rite of three bows and nine kowtows.
An emperor would not easily perform the great rite of three bows and nine kowtows unless an elder had passed away or during sacrifices to heaven. By performing this great rite before the jade stele now, he was placing Kong Hou in a position of supreme honor while he himself was a person of lowly status.
When one has stood in a high position for a long time, it becomes very difficult to lower one’s head and bend one’s knees to a former loser. Emperor Jing Hong was also unwilling, but for the sake of this realm, for the sake of the imperial dynasty, personal honor and disgrace were no longer very important.
One day later, one hour later—both meant countless lives.
He was not the deposed Emperor Ji who viewed the common people as fish and meat. He could not afford to gamble, could not afford to be willful.
The self-reproaching edict burned completely. After the wind passed, the last wisp of green smoke dissipated between heaven and earth. Looking at the empty sky, Emperor Jing Hong seemed to age ten years in an instant.
He knelt there quietly, like a withered tree that had sunk to the bottom of the water. Because people feared the water, they dared not approach, nor could they salvage him from the water.
If the epidemic continued to spread, perhaps more and more people would become infected, and even more than half the country would be unable to escape this calamity. He had tried surrounding the cities where the epidemic had broken out, but this method hadn’t worked. As long as there was wind and water, the epidemic could spread to more places.
Could he really kill and burn every person who had contracted the disease?
Emperor Jing Hong could not accept this cruel choice.
The sun climbed bit by bit. The hour of chen passed, the hour of si passed. Emperor Jing Hong’s back was already swaying as if about to collapse. The Crown Prince crawled on his knees to his side and tearfully urged: “Father Emperor, your dragon body is important. My brothers and I will kneel here.”
He wanted to say that it was almost the hour of wu now, and Kong Hou Xianzi showed no signs of manifesting her divine presence—she probably wouldn’t come.
Perhaps immortals and mortals were different realms, or perhaps Kong Hou Xianzi still resented them for taking the imperial throne from the Ji family. But no matter what, even if Kong Hou Xianzi didn’t come, they still had to think of other methods. All things in the world mutually generate and restrain each other. If there were people who fell ill, there would be medicine to treat them—they just hadn’t found it yet.
“If I had known it would come to this, perhaps I should not have taken this realm back then.” Emperor Jing Hong said dejectedly. “Even if ruled by the tyrannical and cruel deposed Emperor Ji, the common people of the realm could at least survive barely. It would be better than now, with them suffering the torment of the epidemic while I am powerless to help.”
Emperor Jing Hong, now over fifty years old, had knelt for so long that his spirit had long since flagged. Now with hope shattered, his entire vital energy and spirit had collapsed, so he no longer referred to himself as “zhen” but as “I.”
“Father Emperor, please don’t think this way. Even if the deposed Emperor Ji were in power now, when the epidemic was meant to happen, it would still happen. The deposed Emperor Ji was muddled and incompetent, only knowing pleasure. If the infected common people were ruled by him, wouldn’t they suffer even more?” The Crown Prince wiped his tears and said, “Father Emperor, please, you must take care of your body. The common people of the realm are still waiting for you.”
Emperor Jing Hong smiled bitterly. As a ruler, he couldn’t do everything either.
When he plotted to seize the imperial throne back then, the deposed Emperor Ji’s empress stood before Fengyang Palace, looking down at him from her high position, and said to him: “May the new emperor treat the common people of the realm well. One day you will understand how difficult it is for a ruler not to change his conduct and not to alter his virtue.”
At that time, he was in high spirits and only thought the former dynasty’s empress was cursing him.
Now he finally understood—the former dynasty’s empress hadn’t deceived him. Being an emperor was easy, but being a good emperor was difficult.
“So be it.” Emperor Jing Hong sighed deeply, extended his hand to the Crown Prince, and prepared to rise and return to the palace. But he had knelt for too long. As soon as he stood up, his entire body ached, and he fell awkwardly to the ground.
At precisely this moment, the sky suddenly blazed with rosy light. Multicolored auspicious clouds tumbled, and a jade boat, crystalline and translucent with an ethereal immortal aura, emerged through the clouds.
“An immortal!” The Director of the Imperial Astronomical Bureau shouted, losing his composure. “The immortal has manifested!”
Everyone looked up toward the sky. They saw ten thousand zhang of auspicious streamers in the air, rosy light flashing, gentle wind blowing slowly. The immortal boat descended slowly, incomparably sacred and divine.
“The immortal!”
Everyone kowtowed and bowed, so overjoyed they wept.
“The common people are saved!” An official with white hair and beard kowtowed tremblingly, tears streaming down his aged face. “Saved.”
When the jade boat descended to midair, it suddenly stopped moving. The people, overjoyed to the extreme, noticed this change and no longer dared to cry out loudly in supplication. They only kowtowed continuously, hoping the immortal wouldn’t abandon them.
“Your Majesty!” On the palace wall, a female official pointed at the sky. “An immortal has emerged from the jade boat.”
The empress raised her head, staring blankly at the sky, unable to recover her senses for a long while.
In the rosy light, a young maiden with fluttering sleeves came riding the wind. Her black hair danced, her skin was whiter than snow, transcendent and without a speck of dust. The kind of beauty on her body made people overlook her features, overlook everything, only feeling that even the most beautiful woman in the world was nothing more than this.
The young maiden came treading on the wind. The moment her pure white shoes touched the sacrificial platform, the sash on her body fluttered, and her eyes shone brilliant as the stars.
“Your Majesty.” The young maiden walked forward a few steps, looked at Emperor Jing Hong who appeared extremely disheveled on the ground, and nodded with restraint: “Your Majesty need not be so formal. Please rise quickly.”
“You, you…” Emperor Jing Hong looked at the immortal maiden before him, unable to form coherent sentences.
“Nearly seven years have passed since we last met. Is Your Majesty well?” The young maiden lightly raised her delicate hand, and the emperor who had been slumped on the ground involuntarily stood up, all the aches in his body instantly disappearing. He looked at the young maiden in shock, stepped back one pace, and bowed deeply to the ground: “This mortal person greets Kong Hou Xianzi.”
Apart from Ji Kong Hou who had left with an immortal back then, there was no one else who could say to him that seven years had passed since they last met.
The others were greatly shocked. In their impressions, Kong Hou had a small face, with only a pair of eyes that were bright and round. Even knowing she had become an immortal, it was difficult for people to clearly imagine her appearance.
The immortal maiden standing on the sacrificial platform was beautiful from head to toe without any flaw. The robes and garments on her body even more so flowed with light and shimmered, making people not dare show half a measure of disrespect. She was completely different from the fallen princess of that year—like two different people.
Standing on the high sacrificial platform, Kong Hou looked around in all directions. The majestic palace buildings were all beneath her eyes. As a woman, she had never had the opportunity to set foot here, whether before the fall of her country or after.
She hadn’t expected that her first time setting foot here would be with everyone kneeling to welcome her.
She turned to look toward the base of the sacrificial platform. There knelt imperial princes and grandsons, civil and military officials. Among them were imperial princes and grandsons who had bullied her, and former dynasty officials who had turned a blind eye to her.
Yet at this moment, her heart was calm as still water.
All past events truly had nothing to do with her anymore.
“Xianzi has come from afar—would you be willing to follow this one to rest in the palace?” The Crown Prince performed a great bow to Kong Hou, wanting to invite her to temporarily stay in the palace.
“Wait a moment.” Kong Hou looked toward the jade boat in the sky. “I have two friends traveling with me. I wonder if Your Majesty and Your Highness would mind?”
“Xianzi’s friends are our honored guests. We welcome them with utmost sincerity.”
“That is good then.” Kong Hou nodded and turned to look at the jade boat.
While everyone was still in a daze, they saw a white-robed immortal lord arrive riding a sword—truly graceful as jade, with unparalleled appearance.
Other than immortals, who else in the world could possess such perfect features?
**Author’s Note:** Lin Hu: Oh, so I’m the one dragging down the average appearance value of immortals?
A male reader expressed in the comments that every time I say “Hah, men,” his heart fills with sadness. I thought about it and felt this wasn’t quite right—it’s the 21st century after all, we should have gender equality.
So today I want to say about Kong Hou making her pretentious entrance: Hah, women.