29. The Council in the Imperial Garden

Afternoon, Imperial Palace, Imperial Garden

There was a lake in the imperial garden. In summer, countless lotuses bloomed there, a beautiful contrast of red and white, while in winter, the scene was entirely different—a thin layer of silvery ice covered the surface, as if pearls had been strewn across the water. In spring, the flowers along the shore cast their reflections onto the lake, enticing the fish to glide beneath them, and in autumn, this was the perfect place to admire the moon. Gazing at the full moon mirrored on the water, it was as though two moons existed. Because each season brought its own unique charm, Xuanyuan Ren’s father had ordered a bridge to be built, leading directly to a pavilion at the lake’s center, allowing visitors to feel as if they were truly part of the scenery.

Xuanyuan Ren sat in the pavilion, conversing with a young woman wearing a phoenix coronet—his empress, Du Haiju. Du Haiju was gentle and refined, born to a prominent family, descended from a founding general. Although her father and brother now served as civil officials, their influence in court was formidable. She was Xuanyuan Ren’s first wife, though certainly not destined to be his last, yet she held a special place in his heart. He confided everything to her, and today he even told her about having fallen for another girl. In the end, he asked, “Tell me, should I summon Yue’er to the palace?” What sort of marriage was this, where a husband could ask his wife whether he should keep another woman in his life? Unthinkable in modern times, yet in the ancient world, especially within the imperial household, nothing could be more ordinary.

Du Haiju seemed quite accustomed to it by now. Though there was a trace of discomfort in her heart, as empress she had long prepared herself for such things. On their wedding night, Xuanyuan Ren had told her that though he could not promise she would be his only woman, he could vow she would be his only empress for life. In his heart, Du Haiju held an irreplaceable place. All Du Haiju asked was his lifelong honesty; anything more, he could never give, and that was the price of being mother of the nation. After hearing about Xuanyuan Ren’s feelings for Hui Yue’er, Du Haiju offered a faint, gentle smile. “To be chosen by Your Majesty is her good fortune. I’m sure she will gladly enter the palace. But how can a commoner girl possibly be admitted?” Good heavens, what kind of woman was this? Hearing her husband liked someone else, she still considered how to help him keep that woman. Such was a woman of ancient times, who regarded her husband as her world.

In truth, Xuanyuan Ren often felt Du Haiju was a confidante rather than a wife, forgetting she was his spouse. Perhaps it was because she was too gentle, never opposing anything he said—he had been spoiled by her tolerance. At that moment, the Empress Dowager approached, a eunuch announcing, “The Empress Dowager arrives!” Xuanyuan Ren and Du Haiju’s maids immediately knelt, crying out three times, “Long live the Empress Dowager!” Such was the sorrow of those who served: to kneel at the mere sight of the powerful.

Xuanyuan Ren and Du Haiju turned to greet the Empress Dowager. Xuanyuan Ren performed a formal salute, while Du Haiju offered a deep curtsey, both saying in unison, “Greetings, Mother. May Your Majesty be blessed with peace and health!” The Empress Dowager, graceful and dignified, motioned with authority for them to rise. Xuanyuan Ren and Du Haiju approached with smiles to help her sit, and Xuanyuan Ren respectfully said, “Mother, you are in fine spirits today to come strolling in the imperial garden!” Although she was his birth mother, she had not raised him. He felt a certain distance—after all, he had been delivered into the care of palace matrons at the age of three, by royal decree, and saw his mother only once a month. Since she had not been the late emperor’s empress, only a favored consort, she had been denied the right to raise her son daily.

The Empress Dowager regarded Xuanyuan Ren with maternal affection. “The weather is lovely today, so I thought to take a walk. Emperor, what were you and the empress discussing just now?” As he was her only son, she longed for more conversation with him, but royal protocol had kept them apart since his earliest years.

Xuanyuan Ren decided to tell the Empress Dowager about his feelings for Hui Yue’er, believing she had experience in such matters and could offer counsel. After he finished, he glanced at Du Haiju, hoping she would speak on his behalf. Understanding, Du Haiju addressed the Empress Dowager, “Mother, as long as it makes His Majesty happy, I think it would be good to have the young lady enter the palace. As for her lack of family background, perhaps Prince Jun could acknowledge her as his sworn sister, so she may participate in this year’s consort selection with proper status. What do you think, Mother?” No one bothered to ask the young woman’s opinion, of course. In the face of an imperial decree, Hui Yue’er would have no choice but to enter the palace. Xuanyuan Ren believed Yue’er did not dislike him, and besides, he had never been denied anything since childhood. He was accustomed to getting his way, seldom considering others’ feelings. He already knew Hui Yue’er did not wish to enter the palace, but he did not care. This was not truly love for another, but rather love for himself.

Since the empress had spoken, the Empress Dowager agreed, “Very well, let it be as the empress suggests.” After all, one more person in the palace mattered little to them. Yet they never considered whether the woman was willing—just a few words from them would alter the course of someone’s life.

Ladies and gentlemen, young and old, and all those in between, hurry and shower me with golden medals, red envelopes, and gifts—hold nothing back! Let the storm rage even fiercer!