Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang had welcomed the news of her parents' death the way she would have welcomed the Emperor into her chambers. With voluptuous nonchalance. Oh, in front of the little eunuch who had brought the announcement, she had let her hand shake. She had even lowered her head. Not something she was known to do much.
But as soon as she had retired into her chambers, Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang had slid back against the silky covers of her bed and laid there, on her side. At her demand, a maid, long used to her ways, had brought a small box. A small box that the lady favored. That the lady caressed with the tip of her finger whenever she was seated in front of her bronze mirror.
And that she never opened.
However, after having received the announcement scroll and shed her robes, she had demanded the box. And opened it with a flick of a finger.
The maids had almost gasped in shock. And curiosity. How many of them had wanted to know what it was that the lady kept hidden in that simple, black box! None had dared ever open it for, though the lady was lenient when she willed, she could be a frightening fury when provoked. A maidservant in the harem, whatever her allegiance, could live a most comfortable life under Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang's patronage. And so could a court lady. As long as they respected the written laws of the palace. The unwritten ones did not hold with Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang.
What a disappointment they experienced. There was nothing really in that box, beside a bracelet. A bracelet woven in red and gold string, delicate and elegant. Presenting one numismatic charm. The type of bracelet one would have given a child to ward evil spirits off and bless it with a long life. The maidservants all blanched, staring at it with fear.
Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang had just received saddening news from the Longxi Commandery and she had immediately demanded that bracelet to be brought to her. Before that, the servants had considered whether they should shed a few tears for the form. Now however, they knew better than to do something as dangerous. Because, three years ago, all the servants of the newly made Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang had been executed after bad news had been brought her.
"Withdraw."
When one described a favored concubine's voice, one spoke of lightness, one spoke of tenderness. The voice of a favored concubine had to have a special ring to it. Something melodious. Like bells in the wind. If such was to be the voice of a favored concubine, what about a beloved consort?
Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang's voice would never have been called dainty, tender, ringing like bells in the wind. No. Her tone was brusque and assured, like that of a soldier. When she mocked, she enraged one. When she praised, her words never sounded like praises. She did not lose her time uttering unnecessary words in daily life. With her, 'Withdraw' never was 'You may withdraw'. Her voice was husky and deep. She never raised it. At least never had in the Palace. If one wished to hear her words, one had to be silent by oneself.
Though this voice was as far-removed from the standards of beauty of their time as could be, there was a certain charm to it. A certain something that women could not name and that men could just feel in the core of them. Her voice was vulgarly seductive. It had that grating barbarian lilt that had seeped into the elegant Hua language. Eating at it. Destroying it. She had indeed come from the steppes where she had mingled with the barbarians. Such a horrid accent would have caused any other woman's downfall. Not hers.
A knocking sound echoed throughout the chamber. The woman was hitting the scroll she had received against the wooden frame of her bed while toying with the small bracelet. Her eyes were cold. Her parents had died. She did not cry. She did not seem to mourn either. Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang was made of something stern.
A soft rustle came from behind a hidden side-door.
"Miaolan."
This was the voice one would have expected from a favored concubine. It was fresh and cool, like water. Tender and melodious, like a bird's chirp. A small woman appeared from behind the silk wallhanging that concealed the side-door. She stepped forward. One would have likened her to the branches of a willow. Pliable and lithe.
"What will you do now?"
The woman let herself fall at the foot of Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang's bed. She looked up. Such eyes! Narrow and long. So small one would have mistaken them for dark slits carved into that snow-white skin. There was only one word for such eyes, such thin, fine brows and that luxurious black hair arranged in a simple bun. Perfection.
There never was and never would be a woman more beautiful, so Miaolan thought, looking down on Xiaorou. Her Xiaorou. It was just unfortunate that half of that glorious face was covered by a veil.
The irritating tapping sound of the scroll hitting the bed frame grated on Xiaorou's nerves. Now was not the time to be pensive. It was her duty to think things through for Miaolan. Miaolan's duty was to act. Truth was that Xiaorou felt fear whenever this strange stillness took over Miaolan. She had seen it once, three years ago, after the fifth imperial son had been found dead in his crib. Miaolan's son.
The tapping was driving her insane. In a movement of utter anger, Xiaorou seized the scroll and tore it from Miaolan's fingers, her eyes blazing. It elicited no reaction other but a fine, dark eyebrow being raised at Xiaorou. Since when did the cool, composed, calculative Xiaorou have such a reckless side to her?! But Miaolan understood it. Her old man had never liked Xiaorou. He had always viewed her as a sort of particularly disgusting beast. It was not surprising, seeing how easily Xiaorou had bitten the hand that had fed her. But even this beast, so thirsty for power and recognition, had some remnants of humanity left to it.
Miaolan started twirling the little bracelet about her index finger. Xiaorou's eyes flew to it. Her eyelashes fluttered.
Indeed, such stillness had last been seen when the fifth imperial son had been found dead in his crib.
"Do you know how she killed herself, Rourou?"
Miaolan's deep voice reverberated through Xiaorou's body. She did not wish to know. Xiaorou was a block of ice. She truly was. Ambitious. Ruthless. Willing to lap up all the mud between Miaolan's dwelling and the Empress Consort's. She would erase the humiliation of her birth. By her own means. She did not care! She would not listen.
Miaolan looked at Xiaorou bending her neck. She had changed. The Palace had changed the ten-year old child Miaolan had dragged into this elegant drudgery that was the life of an imperial concubine. Just that unlike Miaolan, Xiaorou did not need to spread her legs for the selfish pleasure of an absent, emotionless and deeply dangerous ruler. No. She had that veil always concealing half of her face to protect her.
"She hung herself on that tree in the courtyard. Do you remember that tree? It never made beautiful leaves. We would wait for spring hoping it would become green, but it never did. Mind you, it was always full of crows. Do you think the crows had time to feast off of her carcass before she was discovered?"
"Stop!", Xiaorou hissed.
Miaolan shot her a cold glance.
"Isn't it late to act like you cared? You left her behind seven years ago. Without turning back. Don't think I am blaming you, Rourou. You were very clear about what you wanted from age eight."
Softly sliding against the silk covers of the bed, Miaolan came to rest her head at its edge. Her and Xiaorou's eyes were at the same level. It was strange, was it not? For the last seven years, she had waited for it. Every day she had expected for the news to come. And yet, it was Xiaorou who lost her legendary cool about it.
Xiaorou had always been Madam Liang's favorite. Unlike Miaolan, she had had a thin, pliable body. Though Miaolan had more talent for it, Xiaorou had the silhouette needed to learn dancing. Where Miaolan's movements were tawdry and vulgar, Xiaorou's were graceful and gentle. She had an impressive memory and recited poems with ease. And she was beautiful. One should never underestimate the power of beauty.
The Liang family had been a strange one, Miaolan knew. Even she, of all people, knew! Her father had favored Zongzan over them all. Which was no wonder, taking into account Zongzan had been picked up before her mother had even given birth to Airu and herself. As for her mother, she had favored Xiaorou. Strangely, Airu and Miaolan had not truly cared, though they were legitimate children. Xiaorou wasn't even adopted, so to say. As their father would have said, she was a stray. Rich coming from a man who had dragged Zongzan and his grandmother out of an obscure hole and pulled them into their family.
And thus, it ended up with their father taking Zongzan everywhere he went whereas Xiaorou had always kept her little face hidden between the pleats of Madam Liang's skirt. Two little strangers that had latched onto what should have been theirs. The twins had been left to their own devices most of the time.
Airu was running about the fields, associating with Hūna children. Wrestling them to the ground. Learning to lasso sheep, tame falcons and whatnot. Miaolan was spying on her father until, overcome with irritation, he motioned for her to come out of her hiding spot so he could teach her his craft. She could punch one in the gut like none other, thanks to her old man.
In the end, whatever may have been said, they had not been an unhappy family. Poor, though their father could have been rich. Wild, though they could have had all the advantages of education. When their father did not drink, he was amiable enough towards the children, almost kind towards his wife and useful around their dwelling. Things had not been bad then. But time flowed by, circumstances changed.
"You are right, Ah-Lan. I was very clear about what I wanted from age eight. Do you remember when I told you? Do you remember what had happened?"
Before she had the time to continue with her questioning, Xiaorou felt her jaw being caught in a death grip. Had she not been wearing her smooth veil that made Miaolan's fingers slip, Xiaorou would have truly felt the power of her anger.
"Don't you dare! Don't you dare speak of that!"
And that is when it happened. Again. Xiaorou felt the guilt. She had been feeling that guilt for a long time now. Maybe … maybe had it not been Miaolan, it might have been Xiaorou who would have experienced that frightening anguish, ten years ago. Maybe she would have been his target. Maybe she would have been the one to whom he would have whispered those horrifying words:
'I love you. I love you to the point of madness.'
It was the privilege of beautiful women to believe themselves the target of evil intent. And how could Xiaorou, hidden as she always was under that veil of hers and very aware of her own beauty, not believe that if circumstances had been different, she might have been a victim herself?
She gagged. Xiaorou had seen much of it, when she had been no older than four. Back when she lived in one of those red tents at the outskirts of the military encampment. Just that no one had ever spoken such words. Filthy words. And to think … She felt guilt. Guilt for having seen it. Guilt for having looked at it. Guilt for having kept silent.
'We are forever separated. We could never be together in this life.'
Xiaorou reached out her hand and grasped Miaolan's wrist, slowly tearing it from her face. She was not forceful. Miaolan's hand trembled.
'So, just this once … I will not ruin you … but just this once …'
Xiaorou had been eight years old. And she had looked. The same was she had been used to look at her mother. In one of those red tents, on the outskirts of the military encampment. She remembered the tears in Miaolan's eyes. She remembered her dishevelled state. This was the world women lived in. Men considered perdition and ruin to be something so great. To them it implied blood and pain. But to a woman … to a woman a simple kiss could lead to ruin.
There had been no blood, thus according to him, there had been no ruin. There had been tears, thus according to them, there had been perdition.
But how could they understand, Xiaorou wondered. How could they, the men, understand?! The worst were those that shrouded themselves in an aura of virtue and piety. The worst were those who paraded on their military horses, their armors shining under the sun, their bearing heroic, their eyes cold. She had seen many of those. Mostly in the red tents. But one also had wormed his way into Miaolan's chamber, when she had been but twelve.
Xiaorou hated the clean ones the most.
"He will kill you."
Four simple words that fell from Xiaorou's lips. Whom she meant, they both knew. Only one man in the Palace could kill at will. And they had both known such a day would come. In fact, so had Protector General Liang. However, to that man who seemed lost to all reason, there had still been some things holy. Some things he would not have sacrificed in the name of his daughter. Thus, though he had known Miaolan was being sent to her death, seven years ago when she had left the Longxi Commandery to return to her native Dai, he had not as much as tried to avert the disaster.
The Emperor's desires were supreme. Not to Protector General Liang, they were not. However, though he might not have cared for his own head, Protector General Liang had very much cared for that of his soldiers. He would never have sacrificed their wellbeing, their lives, their futures for some daughter of his. If to ensure the grain reserves were replenished, armors and weaponry were dispatched Protector General Liang had to send his own daughter as a tribute to that arrogant, spoiled, cowardly whelp that called itself emperor, then he would indeed send her. And he had. He had seen the present Emperor as a child. He had seen him once more as a young Emperor. Dangerously petty and treacherous, that Rong Fengli.
"Oh, I do count on him killing me. He would greatly disappoint me if he did not."
Xiaorou lowered her eyes to look at the scroll that was still between her fingers.
"You once told me that the only thing you wanted was to live. And now, you just lie around, waiting for death."
"This", Miaolan lifted her hand in a sweeping motion, "All of this … is His Majesty's. Every thread of silk on this bed, every grain of powder in those pots by the mirror, every strand of hair on our heads, every breath we take. All of that is Rong Fengli's. You have forgotten yourself for a moment, Rourou. We have schemed, we have plotted, we have killed in this palace. It has made you believe that you have power. You do not. Only he does."
Yes. Only Rong Fengli had power in this Palace. In this world that was the Hua Empire. They had killed, Xiaorou and her. They had schemed and plotted. Just to gain one more day of life. No, Miaolan had done it just to live. Not to simply exist, waiting for a death that was sure to come. And she had lived. Oh, she had lived. The way her father had told her to. With the knowledge that the worst that could ever befall her being death.
But the truth was, lying on this soft bed of hers, nonchalantly playing with that bracelet and provoking Xiaorou, Miaolan was terrified. She was terrified of this death that had been prophesized seven years ago by her own father. He had told her that Rong Fengli would let her live. Would let her live until the instant of her father's death. Whatever she did, whatever outrageous ideas she got, she would live. But before Protector General Liang's body would turn cold, Rong Fengli would come for her.
And she had lived. She had lived with frightening hunger and thirst. She had been outrageous. She had been demanding. She had done the unimaginable. And she had never, not once, been happy. She had never, not once, been content. But she had not cried either. This had been her life in the Palace. A state of complete emotional dormancy. She had lived at the rhythm of Xiaorou's ambitions.
'One day … One day, I will be Empress. And then, no one will be allowed to hurt Big Sister. Rourou promises.'
It had been so long ago. So very long ago.
The hand that had previously cruelly oppressed Xiaorou came back. Caressed her cheeks through the veil. That hand had lost most of its callousness. Xiaorou had loved those callouses in her childhood, when they had tickled that sensitive spot below her ear. But the Emperor had not. So many senior servants had been dispatched to rid Concubine Liang of them. It would not be said that an Imperial Concubine had coarse hand, as if she had toiled. Though she had.
Slowly, Miaolan's fingers slid behind Xiaorou's ear, removing the veil. Taking a look at that tender, beautiful face. With a horrible scar disfiguring it. A profanity, a sacrilege that such perfection would be marred. Xiaorou had gotten better at this. If ever someone had the bad idea of tearing her veil from her face, they would be welcomed with quite the sight.
"I will not go to my death with you."
The veil slipped from Miaolan's fingers. She smiled. That noncommittal, shallow smile. The practiced smile of a court lady.
"Who asks you to, silly? You are nothing but a servant. It is a wonder you were suffered to stay by my side for so long, taking your origins into account. Do not get carried away with self-importance. Ah-Li has, has always had, little interest in you. Though he might have compromised our plans had he ever seen you without that horror you like to paint onto your face, he would never have given you a title in the palace or killed you. He does not go to the trouble of killing the maidservants he has fleeting fancies for. He just has them displaced."
Rong Fengli was a methodical man who, though he might have been petty and treacherous, did not exhibit a penchant towards cruelty. When he killed, he did it elegantly, without involving himself. And most importantly, he only killed when it was necessary. Thus, he only killed those with power and might. Killing or having maidservants killed was beneath him. If he liked them, he took them, for the few that needed, he ordered abortion and in the end, had them displaced from his sight for he disliked whatever reminded him of his own weakness.
"Go to the Empress Consort. Through these years, she has become too dependent on us. She does not know how to manage the harem without my support. And she is sure to become panicked as soon as Ah-Li betrays his intentions towards me. All of her children are young. There is many a slip between the cup and the lip. Who knows whether they will survive without my protection? We have cleaned the Inner Palace up, it is full of stupid women you should be able to take care of by yourself. Know that as soon as I disappear, Ah-Li will most probably begin disregarding the gracing laws. He will bestow his favor as he seems fit. Which means that it will be more difficult for you to control the births. Avoid pregnancies by keeping a tight watch on the meals. Abort if necessary … And kill if ever the need arises."
This was how one lived in the Imperial Palace. There was no place for weakness, pity, empathy. If Xiaorou truly wished to elevate herself, she needed first to create an environment conducive to such an ascent.
"Aim for the Eldest Imperial Prince. He is six, you are eighteen. You are at a disadvantage. By the time he is of age, you will be old. But this is not without a precedent. Luigui has little affection for the boy. And Ah-Li even less. He will not be made crown prince. Keep by him, guide him, teach him. Become indispensable to him. And remove the other ones. Slowly, with care. Beware not to have them killed too rapidly unless you want Ah-Li to get flustered and start fearing he will not leave descendants behind. And once he reaches the age of reason …"
Miaolan lifted her head, leaned into Xiaorou, her warm breath caressing Xiarou's neck.
"And once he reaches the age of reason, get rid of Emperor Xinlong. If you can, that is."
A shiver ran down Xiaorou's spine. She knew all of that. When it came to plotting, scheming, killing … Xiaorou had done it all. She had devised the plans. She had found the people to carry them out. Miaolan had only been a façade, she had only been the source of the means Xiaorou employed.
"Why did you kill him?"
Yet, there had been one life Xiaorou had not taken. One small, very small, life. Miaolan moved away from her, their eyes locked. Why had she killed him? Because she had wanted to live. To live just a little longer.
"The only reason Ah-Li tolerated my existence for so long was because he believed father cared for me. And that through me he could control father. He wanted that child desperately so he could pressure father into obedience. But we know the truth, Xiaorou. Father never truly cared. About any of us. Mother, Airu … me. At some point or another, Ah-Li would have tried using the child to lure father in. And when that would have failed, he would have realized how wrong he had always been to bear my disrespect, my vulgarity and outrageousness. He would have realized that all of the humiliations I made him suffer were for naught. In the end, for me to live another day and for you to stabilize your position among the servants, the child had to die."
She threw the little bracelet up in the air, catching it as it fell back down.
"And he was a great tool to get rid of Noble Consort Wu. I can still remember her screams. Her screams …"
At that moment, voices behind the doors leading to Imperial Noble Consort Huihuang's chambers proclaimed the arrival of a most illustrious personage.
"His Majesty, the Emperor."
"His Majesty, the Emperor."
Xiaorou quickly fumbled with her veil, fixing it over her face once more and stood up in a flutter of silk. Miaolan for her part simply turned a bit to lie on her back, staring at the ceiling.
"This is where we part, Rourou. Succeed, if you can. Fail, if you cannot."
This was the end to it all. Or was it? For something to end, it had to have existed before.
Love. What love? The love between master and servant? The love between siblings? Between parents and child? Between husband and wife? Between the Emperor and the Imperial Noble Consort?
For it to end, it had to have existed before.