Chapter 20
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Within the palace, Empress Song received a message from an attendant that the Emperor would be coming for dinner shortly. Having been married to the reigning sovereign for many years, having endured the most difficult times together, they understood each other deeply. Now, with many youthful and beautiful concubines in the palace—none summoned without reason—the Emperor’s special visit signaled some troubling matter at court.
When Empress Song was appointed as consort to the imperial prince, none had imagined he would one day ascend the throne. After all, the Emperor’s birth mother had been but a low-ranking concubine of the late sovereign, of unremarkable lineage, little favored, bearing the title “Shun.” At that time, when Consort He and Consort Pei contended for the position of Empress, the conflict spilled over, affecting many. To seek stability, Shun Concubine had early arranged a marriage for her sole son to the daughter of an equally obscure official from the Ministry of Rites.
Who could have foreseen that Consort Pei would resort to such cruelty, causing the tragic death of Consort He’s son? To appease the He family, the late Emperor had the current ruler adopted by Consort He, who had little base of power. After the death of her own child, Consort He’s temperament changed drastically, her suspicions grew deep. Seeing the close relationship between the Emperor and Shun Concubine, she framed Shun Concubine for attempting to harm Consort Pei, killing two birds with one stone.
The reason was all too convenient: Shun Concubine bore a grudge against Consort Pei for causing the death of Consort He’s son, which had led to her own child’s abduction. Consort He did not hide these machinations from the Emperor himself, who was already over ten years old and well aware since his early memories that his birth mother had fallen from favor, and that they had survived together through hardship—how could he not harbor resentment?
Moreover, after ascending the throne, the Emperor had been held hostage by the He family under the pretense of “guiding the young ruler,” their control over court affairs lasting several years. He lived like a puppet, fortunate only for the loyal and upright Chancellor Guo Hong, who, aligned with Prime Minister Cui, provided some reprieve. The Emperor regarded both Chancellor Guo and Prime Minister Cui as mentors. But when Chancellor Guo approached retirement, he was schemed against by the He faction and exiled to the malarial southern lands of Dian; Prime Minister Cui, now aged, saw his sons and grandsons repeatedly targeted by the He family’s vengeance. How could he not seethe with hatred?
Empress Song pondered this, ordering the servants to prepare the Emperor’s favorite dishes, warmed wine, and fragrant incense to calm the nerves. Only then did she smile with satisfaction. The Emperor arrived in the evening, his face weary as expected.
“Zitong, do you know that the He family intends to hold that ‘Thousand Elders’ Banquet’ for the Empress Dowager?” he asked.
Empress Song nodded gently, replying, “It is but a charlatan’s trickery, nothing to fear.”
If such mystical arts truly existed, the late Emperor would not have passed away so abruptly. The Empress Dowager’s health was declining, and this was merely a desperate attempt at quack remedies.
The Emperor sneered, “The He family knows they have sinned too much these years. I fear once the Empress Dowager passes, they will be purged.”
They shared the same thought and allowed their words to fly freely. The He faction’s arrogance had already lost the hearts of the people; when the east wind blows, they can be swept away root and branch.
Empress Song comforted him gently, waiting for his mood to improve before asking, “Your Majesty, when you visited Prime Minister Cui’s eldest grandson today, did you learn how his illness fares? I heard it resembles little Azhan’s condition. It is truly painful to hear.”
The Emperor sighed, shaking his head, then added, “I intend to summon Liu Miao back to the capital to examine him.”
Empress Song was surprised. “Liu Miao? Didn’t he resign and return home?”
In front of Cui Yuan, the Emperor could entrust matters solemnly, but with his long-time wife—the one who knew him best—it was difficult to speak openly.
“Jingniang, I…” The Emperor’s voice softened under Empress Song’s puzzled gaze. “Before Azhan left, I had a premonition and was troubled… that night, I spoke with Prime Minister Cui and drank some wine…” His words were cut short by the Empress’s palm to his mouth.
She understood. Her own father had once spoken similarly to her mother, though for reasons of political frustration. The birth mother had raised that maid’s child at her knee; the maid was promoted to a concubine, preserving appearances for all but herself, who swallowed tears in silence.
But Empress Song was no longer a young girl. Her husband was the ruler of all under heaven, with thousands of beauties, yet his offspring were few—only two sons and one daughter in the palace. She earnestly wished for more consorts to bear the Emperor heirs.
For an Empress, the prosperity of the palace’s progeny bore on her legacy in the annals of history. The Emperor’s merit lay in peace across the realm; the Empress’s honor was the tranquility of the imperial harem.
Perhaps the only discomfort was the timing of this child’s arrival—when her son was gravely ill.
“This is a good thing,” she said quickly. “Where is the child? Why not bring her back to the palace? The Empress Dowager is old and no longer a force.”
The Emperor replied softly, “She is lost.”
Empress Song was stunned.
Lowering his head, the Emperor stirred his food with chopsticks. “I entrusted Ruan Xian, Liu Miao, Yun Niang, and Xu Qi to her care, hoping she would grow up safely…”
Indeed, she had grown safely—until she was abducted this spring.
Empress Song’s lips twitched.
The Ruan family were retainers left by the Emperor’s birth mother; Xu Qi was an instructor at the Imperial Academy; Zhang Yun Niang worked in the kitchen, and Liu Miao served in the Imperial Medical Department—all capable and loyal. The Emperor’s love for this child was evident, though he had never even seen her. What he placed upon her was the stable life he himself never had.
The Emperor had long been oppressed; his body and mind had declined over the past two years. He was barely holding on, enduring only to outlast the Empress Dowager.
When the child was born, recalling the precedent of the Spirit King, he feared she might be his only child.
He truly did not want her bound by palace rules or harmed in his struggle to break the He family’s grip. He preferred she live freely and simply, even if it meant never recognizing her as kin.
Empress Song comforted him, “Your Majesty, do not worry too much. Since you have sent people to search, she will surely be found. When she returns, bring her into the palace and make amends properly. As for the child’s birth mother, though a maid of the Cui family, she should be brought into the palace and granted a title for propriety. What do you think, Your Majesty?”
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The Emperor closed his eyes. “…She is dead.”
“Died in childbirth, complications,” he said. “When the child is found, you may decide her rank.”
Empress Song was stunned.
If earlier she had only worried that imperial blood should not be scattered outside, now she truly felt sorrow for the child.
The food had cooled; the Emperor barely touched his meal.
He had long forgotten the face of that maid, even why he had been so bewitched at the time. He was not usually impulsive. With his child gravely ill and the anniversary of his birth mother’s death approaching, he ought to have been deeply sorrowful…
How could it be?
How could it?
Perhaps the maid had ambitions and drugged him?
But no matter the speculation, it was he who caused her death. He would repay this child well.
After the guests left, the young lord grew eager to fish. Chongyun prepared the tackle and bait, watching eagerly by his side.
The air had turned cooler recently, the chill near the water sharper. Yeying brought out a tea stove and crouched nearby to boil water, so they could make some warm tea.
Earlier, during the jasmine bloom, she had picked flowers and made scented tea, storing it all in a jar. Now brewing it, the fragrance was rich and delightful. Chongyun and Cangwu praised it, but still preferred the sweetened milk tea with brown sugar.
Cui Yuan drank the delicate jasmine tea and complimented, “Not bad.”
Yeying smiled softly, her eyes narrowed in pleasure.
Fish swam slowly in the stream beneath a clear, sunny sky. Distant green mountains stretched serene, white clouds drifting lazily. Cui Yuan glanced at Yeying, who crouched fanning the small stove, mood very good.
He once found convalescence dull and unbearable, but now he was content—this was a godly life.
He had yet to realize this change within himself, especially how naturally his hand reached out to touch the snacks.
Seeing no treats on the tea tray, he beckoned Yeying over. “Where are today’s snacks?”
Before she could reply, her eyes twinkled as she covered her mouth and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Cui Yuan asked, puzzled.
“You said, sir, to eat fewer snacks,” she teased, her voice clear and bright, sparkling like autumn light, full of mischief.
Cui Yuan was speechless.
“I meant you,” he muttered, pursing his lips.
Arguing about diet with a young maid was unfamiliar—and yet not unpleasant.
Yeying said, “Sir is the patient; all the more reason to restrain diet. Heavy, greasy, sugary foods—leave those to us to handle!”
“…”
Cui Yuan raised an eyebrow.
Next moment, Yeying relented, “I’ll go get some!”
And off she ran.
No manners at all. Truly spoiled by country life.
Cui Yuan shook his head.
Chongyun covered his mouth tightly, amazed—the young lord had actually smiled!
Yeying never expected the eldest master’s fishing skills to be so poor!
Half the snacks were gone, not a single fish caught. Had this been Master Xu, she would have laughed herself silly.
But this was the kind, handsome eldest master, so she couldn’t help but offer advice.
“Sir, you didn’t chumming the water, and the bait’s too little. With just one hook, the fish aren’t dumb.”
Cui Yuan glanced. “Still too little?”
Seeing he was receptive, Yeying took charge. “Like this… here, you cast like so… watch!”
The warm breeze brushed the nape of his neck, making Cui Yuan momentarily uneasy, his back stiffened. Fortunately, her focus remained on the rod, unaware.
After half an hour, he actually caught a large crucian carp.
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“Tonight we have fish soup!” Yeying exclaimed happily.
Cui Yuan: “…”
Looking at the first fish he had caught himself, he had initially thought of keeping it in a glass jar indoors, but then considered sharing soup with everyone in the courtyard. That seemed better.
Yeying’s enthusiasm grew. Previously, she had only admired Cui Yuan; now, she had the rare chance to teach the scholar!
“Sir, cast with strength, don’t hold it so lightly, like a celestial being. Celestials live on smoke and wind, but we must eat fish,” she said, standing behind him, confidently instructing.
“…”
Luckily, Cui Yuan was always open to advice.
Following her instructions, he soon caught another large fish and two smaller ones.
Yeying lamented, “If you hadn’t wasted time earlier, we could have caught more for the fermented fish dish.”
Cui Yuan replied calmly, “There’s always tomorrow.”
Yeying grew serious. “The Ghost Festival is near; better to wait until after the holiday to go near the water.”
Otherwise, the water spirits might drag you down to die!
Her parents and village elders had always warned her thus.
Yeying never dared enter the river.
Cui Yuan laughed, “There are no ghosts or spirits; they exist only in the heart.”
Apparently, the eldest master was a materialist. Yeying smiled, “Then this humble servant shall ‘risk her life’ to accompany you?”
The afternoon warmth was at its peak, yet unlike summer’s burning heat, this was a gentle, sunlit warmth. After a day in the sun, her clothes seemed infused with its scent—most pleasant.
The sunlight kissed her rosy cheeks, her brows curved, her expression serene.
Cui Yuan looked at her and suddenly thought of the Emperor’s words today—about a daughter lost in exile. He tried to find the Emperor’s features in her face but found little resemblance.
The Emperor’s face was long and thin; Yeying’s was short and round. The Emperor had phoenix-like eyes, while Yeying’s were watery and almond-shaped.
It was unlikely they were related.
He had thought to send Ling Xiao, soon betrothed, to assist the palace guards in searching for the lost princess, but had to assign the task to another attendant.
Perhaps the idyllic atmosphere and strong sunlight made him lazy and disinclined to act. He was curious, however, to ask how she learned to fish so well. It must have been an interesting life.
Yeying said, “I learned from the master. He used a big fishing rod; we used small ones, sitting in a row.”
“We?”
Cui Yuan savored this word, sipping the jasmine tea lightly fragrant with blossoms.
Skilled painters often had vivid imaginations; from this single phrase, he conjured a scene of boys and girls playing by the river.
The warmth from the sun seemed to seep into him, dulling his restless thoughts.
He chastised himself for the unnecessary question.
His voice was even. “Were the village school students with you?”
Rarely able to show his competence, Yeying spoke proudly, “Their fishing skills aren’t as good as mine; I have to teach them.”
Childhood friends growing up together, fishing was a natural pastime.
Still, her words brought to mind that scene of teaching—hands together on one fishing rod.
Was that the usual way?
Cui Yuan sipped his tea again, trying to dispel the slight unease.
How laughable to feel uneasy.
“Oh, they like this jasmine tea too,” Yeying said nostalgically.
The method of scenting tea had been taught to Aunt Zhang by Master Xu, then passed to her.
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