In the imperial garden, silver mist from the moonlight scattered over Soyong's beautiful white face. The Emperor was staring at her intensely while she played the shamisen. The warm breeze of summer swayed the lotus flowers floating in the pond and diffused a sweet fragrance in the air surrounding them.
Soyong possessed an outstanding aptitude for music and singing. She was dazzlingly skilled in playing the shamisen, the bamboo flute and the guqin; all of them with exquisite expressivity.
She was playing a song on the shamisen—the one who sealed their first meeting at the palace. Her pure and delicate voice caressed the notes in a way that sang with ripples of seduction and warmth, and she never failed in connecting deeply with every recess of the Emperor's heart.
The Emperor who had a keen appreciation for artistic excellence was mesmerised with the music, and her voice of an almost otherworldly beauty.
But it turned out, there was another person that night also enjoying the delicate scent of the lotus pond. Overhearing Soyong's song, Empress Yū Miko hid behind the hydrangeas trees and look at the scene mirroring the uncertainty of her future.
The Emperor took the shamisen from Soyong's hands, slowly leaned towards her child-bearing abdomen and tenderly rest his hand across it. The young woman's lips seemed to utter something amusing, and Yū Miko heard her husband laughing. It was different from the laugh she was accustomed to. The laugh he offered Soyong resonated with true honesty.
Then the Emperor linked his fingers with Soyong's hand, caressed her hair with his other hand and pressed softly his lips against hers. He pulled her head against his chest and draped his arm across her shoulders. Together, unwilling to leave each other, they stared quietly at the moon smiling upon them.
The Empress grew bitter.
Empress Yū Miko loathed Soyong—a low born who rivalled her authority. She moved into the palace merely weeks after her encounter with the Emperor, and was immediately elevated to the rank of Royal Noble Consort, and shortly after bore him a son on her first pregnancy!
Every act of personal hatred has a story. And Jealousy was the main character in Yū Miko's life.
Yū Miko only viewed the Emperor as a tool to vie for more power and influence, and he knew it. Even though he was well aware that they were contracted into a political marriage mostly for the benefit of her clan and the members of her family who were now occupying influential posts in the government; he still couldn't deny that her clan helped him in securing the crown.
Both aware of those facts, love was never a prerequisite for neither of them, and it suited Yū Miko well—until now.
Upon seeing her husband with Consort Soyong, she came to the frightening realisation that this woman had tamed his heart. Love gave this concubine greater power over the Emperor than she herself had as the Empress.
Love was truly a dangerous weapon that she feared because she had witnessed it destroying a dynasty.
Indeed, it was love for a concubine that led to the downfall of the Emperor Changzou's reign. Because of his obsession for Consort Li Lang he neglected his imperial duties, permitted her to dominate the court and make decisions regarding affairs of state.
It eventually led to the deposition of both the Emperor and his wife, and their banishment. But as for the concubine, her punishment wasn't as forgiving—public decapitation.
Yū Miko was now afraid that new characters would play out the same story. Until the moon is no more, she swore that she would not allow anyone to jeopardise her reign. The only character to act in this play would be the one of the concubine!
Yes, Jealousy was the main character in Yū Miko's story. A character not driven by the yearning of a man's love, but by the paranoia of losing her political power to another woman.
And so started her reign of terror. This Empress constantly bullied Royal Noble Consort Soyong and flogged her with scornful words.
Silencing her pride for the safety of her unborn child, Soyong had to prostrate before the Empress constantly apologising for her supposedly disrespectful behaviour.
The consort even had to bear the smirk and the harassment of the Empress's palace maids.
And Shufeng was born on the seventh month of the twelfth year of Akishino reign period, on the Xiu day—the day of Excellence. On the Xiu day it was propitious to carry on military battles and also to give birth to a child with the spirit of a warrior, who should be beautiful, tall and worthy.
On the day of his birth the strongest sunlight flooded the Imperial City. And the sun shone the longest on that day, leaving the evening moon waiting for her turn to enter the palace. Some said that brilliant light from Heavens became a part of him.
His baby eyes sparkled with intense brightness, and his smile ignited warmth in all who saw.
And the two princes grew up side by side. They were both dignified in appearance and elegant in speech and manners.
However, Shufeng's greatness came from the way he loved. He was so bold in his will to love deeply that he would climb mountains, leap fences, and break through walls to arrive at his destination.
Whereas his brother view love as an expression of one's insecurities. It was a weakness that could harm him. So he kept himself safe by not surrendering his power to this trivial emotion. He believed that loving someone meant neediness, which in turn made you accountable to this person by being willing to sacrifice anything, even if it meant walking bare feet the charcoals of Hell.
Taizong didn't want to be bound to anyone nor owe anything to anyone. Instead, he preferred to have control over the other person by being the one who was needed, wanted and loved.
Even if Taizong never asked for his brother's love, it was naturally given to him.
Shufeng grew up seeing the whole world in a way others did not, with the heart as well with the ears and eyes. He was a bright and talented son and the Emperor felt pride in his heart.
Shufeng's voice had a slowness, as if time had stopped and no other person mattered most but you alone, as if he took all the time in the world to give to you and calm your troubled soul.
From childhood to manhood, he loved the simplest things; such as drinking a good cup of tea, waking up with the songs of birds, fishing with the persons he loved, reading for the hundredth time his favourite book of poems.
Like his mother and father he also excelled in the art—music, calligraphy and sumi-e painting.*
Highly skilled, at only eleven, Shufeng moved easily with a sword. However Taizong was a naturally superior swordsman, mastering the double-edged sword with considerable skill and could best almost everyone in the Imperial Guard.
To boost his vanity, the much older Taizong would often train his superior sword with his brother under the watchful eyes of the Emperor. The First prince also showed more talent at hunting events with his impeccable archery skills, whereas Shufeng hated those hunting trips for his heart cried every time his arrow killed a deer or a rabbit.
Shufeng rather preferred to spend a considerable amount studying and pondering over the responsibilities of a prince. He thought that being born into royalty didn't make the man and that he needed to win compliments from the people and ministers to have rights with authority. But rights were not about seeking advantages and avoided disadvantages, not about being above the law and not about manipulating for personal gain.
A prince held the law in high esteem, do not follow his private whim and do not bully others.
His pure thoughts made him down to earth, approachable, and humble about his mistakes.
As for Taizong everyone else had to see him flawless. He was a polished version of his true inner self, extremely poised and self-restrained. But at times his voice quickened and his gentle eyes sparkled when he would loose himself in the moment, quite forgetting the mask his mother gave him to wear.
Taizong was given one face, but made himself another. One that he kept hidden inside, and another one that he revealed to the world.
But immediately after surrendering to the weakness of his heart, every muscle in his body tensed and the fire in his eyes was as though it had been dowsed with ice water; and it was time to crawl right back inside his well polished shell.
Then those eyes—that he knew so well how to use—along with his face, held again a calculating calm, and gave out the perfect gaze and the beautifully composed appearance that he wanted you to see. And you could not tell what emotions were beyond those walls.
But, just beneath their glaze, those eyes were warm and beautiful.
The eyes never lie—a true statement in Shufeng's case. He had the most wonderful eyes, an inky-pool of black with a steel-grey ring encircling his pupils. No matter how dark and unfathomable his eyes were, those captivating eyes held a truth that couldn't be hidden. They showed you his soul, and yet at the same time could dissect you bit by bit, like you were naked in the middle of a hailstorm.
Without a word Shufeng could communicate any emotions. And those emotions arrived at you like crashing waves, and could either despise you, unnerve you, freeze your bones or tug at your heart, radiate you with warmth, bring a smile on your face.
The strength of his gaze was such, that you either wished it would go away or keep hold of you.
But the years following his mother's passing, those eyes awaiting dreams to dance, often conveyed unshed tears, loneliness, and longing; and sold him out every time he tried to appear strong and unfazed.
Those eyes were also his weakness.
With every passing year, Empress Yū Miko felt threatened by every little mundane activity of Consort Soyong's daily life and believed that her son was at a disadvantage.
In Yū Miko's eyes, this was because the Emperor laughed more around the second prince and looked at him with brighter eyes.
It was because Shufeng's first steps and first words were at an earlier age than Taizong, therefore belittling her son.
It was because when Shufeng fell ill, the Emperor stay by his side with storytelling.
When the boy wanted to play, the Emperor would spare him time. And when he wanted to learn riding, the Emperor taught him personally on his favourite stallion.
Indeed, she believed that her son Taizong was at a disadvantage because of 'this' and because of 'that'. And life never was short of occasions to flare up Yū Miko's undue belligerence towards Soyong and her son Shufeng.
The Empress was convinced that the second prince and his mother would respectively steal her son's throne and her title. Consequently she redoubled her efforts in cunningly persecuting both Soyong and Shufeng.
Taizong tried to remind himself again and again that his mother's fears were unnecessary—After all wasn't he the only legitimate heir and first born?
But in truth, from the bottom of his heart, Taizong knew he wasn't so indifferent about it after all.
Before Shufeng came into his world, there was nobody to outshine him. But now, whenever the young Shufeng showed off his intelligence and wisdom, Taizong felt inevitably compared to him.
Confused and torn between his loyalty to his mother and his filial affection to his brother, a pivotal moment finalised the path in which First Highness Taizong would choose to walk.