15
Every year, the Emperor held an autumn hunt.
The children who had once been so small were all grown now, tall and handsome.
Each rode a tall horse, exuding an indescribable air of valor.
Palace Noble Ngu cracked melon seeds as she pointed at the young man riding a dark red horse on the right. “Look, isn’t my Third Son handsome?”
The Third Prince had grown up. His baby fat was gone, and he was much taller and considerably thinner.
He had the gentle bearing of jade. If only he’d keep his mouth shut...
The Third Prince looked our way and waved eagerly. “Mother, just wait! I’ll hunt down a huge one for you!”
The Emperor rode at the center. His gaze passed over the princes before he suddenly asked the ministers behind him, “Which of my princes do you think stands above the rest?”
At his words, everyone’s expression changed at once.
The Emperor had yet to name a Crown Prince, but the question sounded as though he was considering who should succeed him.
The ministers each had their own calculations, and the princes were just as preoccupied with their own thoughts.
“Father is still in the prime of life. I’m nowhere near good enough.”
The First Prince spoke up first.
The others heard him and echoed his words in unison.
The Emperor laughed and said nothing more, merely sweeping his gaze over everyone. A long while later, he burst out laughing.
“Then let me see which of my princes is the most outstanding!”
“Whoever wins this hunt will be named Crown Prince!”
As soon as the words left his mouth, everyone’s expression changed, and several ministers exchanged glances.
That position had always been a cause of conflict.
And yet, no one could have guessed that Phúc An would be the one to emerge victorious.
The young woman had grown up. Her figure was graceful, and her features bore a faint resemblance to Tạ Thư Nhiên’s.
But unlike Tạ Thư Nhiên, she wasn’t gentle. There was a proud, haughty air about her.
“At the autumn hunt, my princes couldn’t even match a little girl like you.”
Phúc An raised an eyebrow and smiled freely. “I may not be much, but I haven’t brought shame upon Father.”
Her reply had been deftly put, and the Emperor’s expression softened somewhat.
“Good! Then I ought to reward you handsomely.”
“How about granting you a husband of your choice?”
“I think the son of Minister Li would make a fine match.”
Phúc An’s expression didn’t change. She simply knelt and bowed deeply. “Thank you for the favor, Father.”
On the way back, Palace Noble Ngu kept furrowing her brows.
Only when no one else was around did she complain with a sigh. “You shouldn’t have let Phúc An show off like that.”
I understood what she meant—the Emperor had begun to grow wary of Phúc An.
I raised an eyebrow and replied calmly, “My Phúc An is a phoenix soaring high above. Nothing in this world can dim her brilliance.”
“All right, all right. Your Phúc An is the best.”
“But...”
“I hear Minister Li’s son is a sickly weakling...”
“The Emperor is cutting off every possible threat. That proves he’s afraid... He’s afraid of my Phúc An...”
“Don’t you think it’s ridiculous? The sovereign of the realm, afraid of a little girl.”
Palace Noble Ngu turned away and ignored me, leaving me to laugh by myself.
I was truly happy.
After all, she was the rose I had raised with my own hands—a thorny flower, sharp enough to dazzle the eye.
16
Phúc An was naturally unhappy with the marriage to the Li family, but she said nothing. She simply embroidered her wedding gown in silence, as if she had truly accepted her fate.
But I knew that my Phúc An had always been strong-willed, even as a child.
“Noble Consort Uyển, aren’t you curious?”
Phúc An asked, blinking at me.
For a moment, I felt as though I had returned to the past.
When she was little, she would cling to my arm and ask me in much the same tone, “Noble Consort Uyển, aren’t you curious what birthday present Phúc An has prepared for you?”
Back then, I would always smile, pat her head, and say, “All I need to know is that Phúc An has never disappointed me.”
The Emperor seemed to be in quite a hurry.
He ordered the Imperial Astronomical Bureau to choose the eighth day of this month for Phúc An’s wedding.
When Phúc An heard the news, she only furrowed her brows slightly before saying regretfully, “I haven’t finished embroidering my wedding gown yet. But it doesn’t matter...”
Lately, the Emperor had been visiting my palace much more often. I found it tiresome, but still had to humor him.
I simply couldn’t help growing colder toward him.
When people do too many things against their conscience, they grow suspicious of everything.
Just as ten years ago, when he suspected the Tạ family of plotting rebellion because they commanded the military, he schemed against them and slaughtered the entire clan.
Afraid that Tạ Thư Nhiên, who had once shared his bed, would seek revenge, he simply bestowed a cup of poison on her.
Just as after Phúc Khang married and the Emperor realized that he and the Empress were no longer close, he secretly ordered someone to poison her...
And even...
He feared the power of my Ôn family, so ever since I entered the palace, he made sure I could never bear children.
The old eunuch who had long served the Emperor kept muttering that His Majesty had been eating vegetarian and praying to Buddha lately, and had grown much gentler.
When people commit too many inhumane acts, they can only place their hopes in the gods.
But how could the gods protect someone like him?
17
On the day Phúc An was married, the sun shone brilliantly. It was a rare, cloudless day.
I looked up at the sky and suddenly found the sunlight strangely blinding.
Palace Noble Ngu teased me, asking why I was crying.
I argued that the sun was simply too bright.
Regicide, usurpation, all that bloody strife—how could a woman like me, living deep within the palace, dare even think of such things?
Triệu Minh Châu, you truly thought far too highly of me.
It seemed all I could do was watch my daughter... step by step, being pushed toward a fate already decided for her.
But the story did not end quite as everyone imagined.
The Emperor’s health grew weaker and weaker.
At court and throughout the realm, calls to appoint a Crown Prince grew louder and louder.
But people are like that: the more they care about something, the more stubbornly they cling to it.
The Emperor stubbornly refused to appoint a Crown Prince, and clung just as stubbornly to military authority.
He trusted none of those princes.
And the most surprising thing…
The Emperor handed military authority to Phúc An.
So this was what Phúc An truly wanted.
A princess who was already married—a completely harmless figure in the Emperor’s eyes.
Only then would she escape suspicion and be able to seize what she wanted without fear.
How could an arrogant man like the Emperor believe that a married princess could stir up a storm?
Who could have guessed that the Hung Nô would invade the frontier, and Phúc An would lead the troops into battle?
Everyone thought the Emperor had gone mad.
But I knew he was merely using this as an excuse to keep Phúc An under his control.
A princess raised in the silken luxury of the inner palace would surely be scared out of her wits on a battlefield, wouldn’t she?
But he didn’t know… Phúc An had been practicing martial arts since childhood.
By the age of twelve, she could wield a spear with astonishing skill.
The Hung Nô suffered a crushing defeat and were driven back, step by step.
When the news reached the capital, the Emperor was so delighted that he fainted.
The imperial physician said it was because he had overworked himself.
After lying ill for some time, the Emperor finally had no choice but to appoint the First Prince as Crown Prince.
The First Prince was the Empress’s eldest son, born in the imperial palace’s main quarters, and his claim was beyond question.
What could the ministers possibly object to?
18
Storybooks often tell of eunuchs who hold sway over the court, second only to one and above ten thousand.
Today, I finally saw it with my own eyes.
The Emperor hadn’t said a word. Yet with nothing more than a movement of his lips, Eunuch Đức Hải had the Crown Prince appointed.
In principle, Eunuch Đức Hải had served at the Emperor’s side for years; there was no reason he would betray his master.
But when he was still a young eunuch, starving with nothing to eat… it was Tạ Thư Nhiên who gave him a box of pastries.
It was also Tạ Thư Nhiên who paid to have him send his mother home and bury her.
I once said that Tạ Thư Nhiên was a good person who met a bad end.
Only now did I truly believe it.
The kindness we sow, even unintentionally, will eventually find its way back to us.
The Emperor’s illness came on suddenly, but no one dared say a thing.
After all, the courtiers had little support for this Emperor.
He had no real ability and spent all his time suspecting one person and guarding against another.
Whenever they went to court, the ministers felt as if their heads were on the line, trembling with fear at every moment.
So everyone turned a blind eye and let the First Prince govern in the Emperor’s stead.
The day Phúc An returned victorious to court coincided with the Emperor’s seventieth-day memorial.
She calmly lit a stick of incense before the late Emperor’s memorial tablet.
Behind her stood a woman dressed in white, silent and still. She was slender, with gentle features.
Before I could say anything, Palace Noble Ngu beside me burst into tears.
She cried even louder than she had on the day the late Emperor died.
It was no stranger… but Phúc Khang, who had married into the opposing court five years ago.
Phúc Khang knelt before me and bowed.
I only clutched her thin arm, murmuring over and over, “It’s good you’re back. It’s good you’re safe.”
Triệu Minh Châu… I’ve done what you entrusted me to do.
Please don’t come to me in my dreams anymore.
19
After the First Prince ascended the throne, he indeed enacted benevolent policies on a broad scale, even allowing women to serve as officials.
Phúc An and I both understood what he meant.
Through his actions, he was telling us—he held no grudge.
The Empress certainly knew how to raise her children. Her son and daughter were both just like her.
But Phúc An still refused.
“Your Majesty, I have no ambitions at court. Now, I only want to take my consort mother beyond these palace walls to see the vast world outside.”
My Phúc An’s ambitions stretched across the whole world.
As we left the Hall of Mental Cultivation, I asked her, “What about that sickly Li fellow?”
At the mention of him, Phúc An’s face suddenly turned red.
She stammered:
“He’s only a man. He won’t even eat that much, so I’ll keep him for now.”
“Besides… he’s not bad to look at.”
I felt a pang of sadness. It seemed the daughter I’d worked so hard to raise was about to become a lovesick fool.
Then I heard her continue, slowly, one word at a time.
On the day “Your Highness, Noble Consort Uyển” left the palace, I deliberately wore a brilliant crimson outfit and flaunted myself before Tạ Thư Nhiên’s memorial tablet.
“Tạ Thư Nhiên, do you regret it now? You just handed Phúc An over to me and went off to live carefree.”
“Tạ Thư Nhiên, I hate you most of all. You’re always pretending to be so virtuous, treating everyone with such sincerity…”
“Why do you have to be so good to everyone?”
“Tạ Thư Nhiên, I hate, hate, hate you most of all!”
Phúc An walked in to find me clutching Tạ Thư Nhiên’s memorial tablet, crying until my voice was hoarse.
She suddenly remembered what her consort mother had said before she died.
“Go find your Uyển nương. She was your consort mother’s very best friend…”
“She’s tough on the outside but soft-hearted underneath. Just cry in front of her once, and she’ll go soft.”
“If you really can’t cry, you can pretend.”
“Anyway, your Uyển nương is such a fool; she won’t see through it.”
Outside the window, the begonias were in full bloom.
It truly was the loveliest season.
“Uyển nương, wipe your tears. We have to get going!”
[THE END]