Zhen Huan gave birth to a princess. The Emperor doted on the little girl from the first breath she drew—on the very day she was born, he bestowed the title "Longyue." I had assumed having a child would soften his heart toward Zhen Huan. Instead, she chose to leave for Ganlu Temple without looking back.
I sent Songzhi to find out why. The answer came in three words: "Wan-Wan resembles you."
Songzhi didn't grasp the meaning. I did.
And Wan-Wan is hardly the only one who "resembles."
For a long stretch after Zhen Huan's departure, the Emperor did not set foot in the inner palace. When he did come, it was only because the Empress Dowager had pushed him. Even then, he visited no one beyond Concubine An or Concubine Qi.
The rest of us women found ourselves with nothing to do. Concubine Qi and Concubine An vied for his favor with tireless invention, but since both answered to the Empress, their rivalry was a pair of scissors cutting the same cloth. Nothing would come of it.
For the first time in my life, I realized how peaceful this sort of existence could be. No more exhausting myself to dream up new dishes for the Emperor. No more lying awake, seething over which palace he had chosen for the night.
* * *
Then my brother wrote to say the Dzungars appeared to be mustering. Good times for the Nian family might be returning.
I no longer cared about "good times" or "bad times." But my brother was still beyond the frontier, and Nian Fu and Nian Xing remained unaccounted for. If my brother could swallow his pride for years on end, then I was willing to gamble once more.
"Songzhi, when is the imperial retinue expected back?" I asked.
"All the palace halls have begun cleaning," she calculated silently, "two or three days at most. No later than month's end."
I acknowledged this, then continued: "I heard the Baijun Stables sent several fine horses?"
"Yes, all broken in," Songzhi confirmed.
"Come with me."
Songzhi looked confused. I didn't explain. Once I learned the Emperor used to take the late Empress riding, I had understood that what he saw in me—beyond the Nian family's power—was my boldness, my spirited edge.
The pity was that I was a flawed shard. I carried the late Empress's fire but none of her tenderness.
It had been years since I'd last ridden. The horse and I spent three full days getting reacquainted.
On the fifth afternoon, while I was cantering through the imperial gardens, I ran into the Emperor.
* * *
Three years had passed, and the Emperor looked noticeably older. When he saw it was me, he didn't walk away. I had counted on exactly that. I pressed the hidden needle into the horse's flank.
The horse bucked. I went flying.
The Emperor caught me before I hit the ground—quick hands, steady arms. Those eyes of his glistened like water about to spill.
"Your Majesty…" My voice cracked. To say I felt nothing for him would have been a lie. But to say I could smile sweetly and fawn over him the way I once did—that would be an even bigger one.
"You've lost weight."
After three years of silence, those were the first words he chose.
"This concubine has been unworthy. It is not proper for me to appear before Your Majesty…"
His arms tightened around me. I could feel his heartbeat—strong, rapid.
We were both stirred. I knew it, and he knew it.
"We haven't seen each other in three years, and that's all you have to say to me?" he said.
I had no idea what he wanted to hear. I didn't have the energy to guess.
So I said nothing. He set me back on my feet.
* * *
"Every one of your offenses was unforgivable. And yet—did I not know that Concubine Xiang had a hand in every single one of them?" he said.
I knelt before him and bowed my head. "This concubine is guilty."
He pulled me up. "Concubine Xiang is dead, and I have neglected you for three years. I often wonder—did I spoil you into becoming what you were?"
I had prepared myself for this moment ever since I decided to face him again. And yet, the ache hit harder than I'd imagined. My breath shuddered.
After years by an emperor's side—especially after learning the truth about the Huanyi Incense and that bowl of pregnancy medicine—I could no longer tell which of his words were real and which were performance.
He was the one who killed my child. He was the one who gave me the incense. And now he was the one who stood here saying he had spoiled me.
It was only many years later that I understood: the person who truly spoiled me was never the Emperor. It was my parents. My brother. All the Emperor ever gave me was a longer leash—and a higher cliff to fall from.
He indulged me. He indulged my brother. And that indulgence was exactly why the Nian family rose so high before it shattered.
* * *
The Emperor stepped inside Yikun Palace for the first time in three years.
It was no longer the gilded hall it had once been. The woman who used to insist on gold-trimmed teacups was now scraping by on an Attendant's stipend—there was barely enough for food, let alone décor.
"You—" The Emperor took in the bare walls, the plain furnishings. He paused, then let out a breath so faint I might have imagined it. "I have been unfair to you."
Unfair? I laughed softly. Before I knew it, my vision had blurred.
These three years—unfair didn't begin to cover it.
Since the day I learned about the Huanyi Incense and the tainted medicine, there had been countless nights when I wanted to end it. But a concubine's suicide was a capital crime that would drag her entire family down with her.
The Nian clan still had people who were alive. How could I afford to be selfish?
"If Your Majesty knows this concubine has been wronged," I wiped my tears and placed a cup of tea before him, "then this concubine considers herself not wronged at all."
That night, the Emperor stayed in Yikun Palace.
* * *
I knew that after that one night, three years of laying low had come to nothing.
The Empress was suffering another bout of her migraines. The Emperor had been summoned by the Empress Dowager.
What surprised me was that the Empress Dowager herself took the initiative to raise my rank—two steps at once—to Noble Lady. And I wasn't the only one. Shen Meizhuang, who had attended the Empress Dowager faithfully for years, was elevated to Concubine Hui.
A double promotion was startling. But once I turned it over in my mind, the picture came into focus.
The Empress Dowager had spent a lifetime behind silk screens, watching empresses rise and fall. With the current Empress growing too powerful, she needed a target—someone to draw the Empress's fire. That target was me.
I let out a breath so quiet no one noticed, and thanked her for the grace. In the old days, I would have believed the Empress Dowager was simply fond of me.
* * *
Sure enough, the moment the edict naming me Noble Lady Hua was announced, the Empress summoned me to Jingren Palace.
It had been three years since I last set foot here, nearly three years since I'd seen these familiar faces. Consort Duan was still tethered to her medicines and excused from paying respects. Consort Jing and Consort Qi sat in the honored positions to the left and right. Below them, in order, were Concubine Qi, Concubine An, Concubine Zhen, Noble Lady Xin, and Attendant Kang. Concubine Hui had not come—she probably couldn't bear to look at me.
I couldn't blame her. I had once nearly taken her life. That kind of hatred was not something a few polite words could dissolve.
Well. Of everyone here—the ones who showed up and the ones who didn't—not a single one is glad to see me.
"Noble Lady Hua rarely leaves her palace. It's only natural that Attendant Kang and Concubine Zhen wouldn't recognize her," the Empress explained with a gracious smile. After Attendant Kang and I exchanged courtesies, I caught her whispering to Concubine Zhen, asking whether I was really the once-legendary Consort Hua who had made every woman in the six palaces tremble at the sound of her name.
Once I was named Noble Lady, the Emperor began visiting Yikun Palace regularly. The Empress's people never stopped needling me, but since they couldn't find a single misstep, their barbs remained toothless.
I knew I was overmatched, so I played the part—docile, soft-spoken. Strangely enough, once I stopped caring whose bed the Emperor occupied on any given night, performing gentleness became much easier.
* * *
When the Emperor visited, I still poured him tea, though I no longer had it cooled to perfection in advance. I still murmured tender words, but how much of it was real even I couldn't say.
One day, the Emperor sent Su Peisheng to deliver a lacquered box of incense. "His Majesty knows my lady is fond of fragrances and had this brought specially."
I knelt to receive the gift, then opened the box and inhaled. "This doesn't smell like Huanyi Incense."
Su Peisheng smiled. "It's a Western tribute blend. His Majesty personally selected calming herbs and mixed them with ambergris. He said the old incense wronged you—it was never truly joyful. You needn't use it anymore."
I thanked the Emperor again and had Songzhi show Su Peisheng out. Then, quietly, I sent for a physician from the Imperial Medical Bureau.
None of the physicians there were mine anymore. As long as it wasn't Zhen Huan's confidant Wen Shichu, anyone would do. I lied—told the physician the incense was a gift I planned to present to the Empress and asked him to check for anything harmful.
He examined it carefully and confirmed it contained no musk or any body-damaging ingredients—only soothing, sleep-inducing herbs. I didn't bother pressing further. Back then, countless physicians had taken my pulse, and not one of them had mentioned that the Huanyi Incense was laced with musk.
The Emperor's visits grew more frequent. The Empress was clearly losing her composure. Concubine Qi provoked me again and again, and each time I swallowed it. I knew how many eyes were watching me. One slip, and everything I had rebuilt could crumble to dust.