Chapter 274: Private Desires (II)

Meanwhile.

Xue Jie poured a cup of wine for Xiang Zheng and gently advised, "Your Majesty, drinking to drown your sorrows on an empty stomach is harmful to your health."

Xiang Zheng said nothing, only lifting the cup, just filled to seven-tenths, to Xue Jie's lips.

A gift from the emperor can't be turned down.

Xue Jie took the cup, downed it in one shot, then smoothly replaced it with a new one, not forgetting to thank him: "Thank you, Your Majesty, for the honor."

Xiang Zheng reclined on the couch, his hair slightly disheveled, with a touch of that wild, free-spirited elegance of the Wei-Jin era's eccentric scholars.

Even though he had aged and his skin had sagged, you could still see traces of his striking youthful looks.

"...Xue Jie." In his drunken haze, he asked a question much like the one Le Wuya had asked: "What is your impression of Empress Rong?"

Xue Jie thought hard for a moment, then showed a trace of shame: "Your Majesty, this old servant's memory just isn't what it used to be; I can barely even remember what the Empress looks like."

"You sly old fox." Xiang Zheng chuckled, half-scolding, leaning against the soft pillow, staring up at the faded painted ceiling, and murmured, "I still remember."

...

He'd known since he was thirteen that Grand Scholar Rong's granddaughter—about his age—would marry him three years down the line.

That was a solid family to marry into.

Despite his title, Grand Scholar Rong had no real talent, but he was great at writing fancy Daoist prayers, which pleased the current emperor greatly and shot him up the ranks.

His father valued Grand Scholar Rong, and while the Rong family boasted noble lineage, they were in truth a family of mediocrities with no luck in their offspring.

Marrying his granddaughter meant no worry about the in-laws getting too powerful, and it would please the emperor—killing two birds with one stone.

That was all Xiang Zheng expected from this marriage.

And sure enough, just as he'd predicted, Rong Wan was a total bore.

She was, as they say, carefully raised by a rich, prestigious family.

It was said that Grand Scholar Rong had raised her strictly, soaking her in poetry, etiquette, and rules since childhood, carefully molding and refining her until she became a beauty as exquisite as a painted silk scroll, every move oozing grace and poise.

...But that was it—just grace and dignity.

Seeing Xiang Zheng was like visiting relatives and noticing a fancy vase on a shelf—no different.

A nod, a smile, a perfectly timed look of admiration, a word of praise, then she'd look away and say nothing more.

Xiang Zheng hadn't expected much from marriage, but this was a little too dull.

After two or three years of icy, polite coexistence, Xiang Zheng's useless old grandfather-in-law, Grand Scholar Rong, finally croaked.

As a prince, Xiang Zheng still had to go pay his respects.

He took Rong Wan back for the funeral and ran into Zhuang Lantai—daughter of Ji Province's garrison commander Zhuang Xun—who'd come to pay her respects.

As she lifted the curtain and stepped out of her sedan, she said, "Grand Scholar Rong was a master of prose in his lifetime, composing countless Daoist prayers—I wonder if he wrote himself a nice eulogy."

To put it nicely, Grand Scholar Rong's reputation had never been great.

But to be that harsh even after the guy was dead—that was just rude.

Xiang Zheng glanced over and was instantly hooked.

Picking out a concubine at his father-in-law's funeral—that didn't look good.

Xiang Zheng waited a whole year before asking the emperor's permission to bring Zhuang Lantai into his home.

At first, Xiang Zheng was curious whether his overly proper wife would get jealous over the new arrival.

But Xue Jie, who was still serving Rong Wan back then, knew the prince would probably be disappointed.

The day after she moved in, Zhuang Lantai ran up to Rong Wan, greeted her cheerfully, and asked, "Do you know how to play polo?"

Rong Wan shook her head, all dignified.

Zhuang Lantai: "Shall I teach you?"

Rong Wan thought for a moment, then shook her head.

Zhuang Lantai: "Come on, come on, just learn it!"

Xiang Zheng was away on official business for three months, and when he got back, Rong Wan had already gotten pretty good at polo.

When they heard he was back, Rong Wan and Zhuang Lantai raced back to the mansion from the training grounds, side by side.

Rong Wan in a blue riding outfit, riding next to Zhuang Lantai in pomegranate red.

Her cheeks were flushed, her temples damp, and her jade-cold expression had come alive—she no longer looked like some aloof Guanyin statue.

Xiang Zheng was surprised and delighted. He didn't scold them for being improper, but instead waved his hand and generously rewarded Zhuang Lantai.

That spark of life was rare, and even Xiang Zheng, never one for warmth, felt something subtle and indescribably beautiful in it.

In his spare time, Xiang Zheng joked, "This concubine of mine seems like she was brought in for you."

Rong Wan said gravely, "Your Highness, mind your words."

Xiang Zheng, having seen another side of her, took her slight blush for shyness and laughed, pulling her closer.

Xue Jie watched from the sidelines—this was indeed the time Xiang Zheng was most like a normal man.

It was the time of his most intense affection and greatest happiness.

Xiang Zheng and Rong Wan's only child, Xiang Zhi Ming, was conceived during this time.

Consort Zhuang had never been particularly fond of the prince, and Xue Jie saw this clearly.

She had always followed her own whims, indifferent to others; no matter how noble the person, she would turn her face away on a whim.

Xiang Zheng had been angered by her arrogance, threatening to cut off her provisions and dock her allowance to temper her spirit, but Rong Wan secretly used her own funds to support her, which only made her plumper and rounder.

Discovering that his wife and concubine were in cahoots, Xiang Zheng laughed in exasperation: "You are truly magnanimous."

Rong Wan said sternly, "As the 'Admonitions for Women' says, gentleness and obedience are the virtues of a woman."

During that time, Xiang Zheng's household was harmonious, his wife and concubine got along, and his only son was obedient and talented, with no faults except a temperament resembling his mother's—somewhat gloomy and reserved.

Outside, Xiang Zheng dominated the court, commanding the winds and clouds, merely waiting for the emperor to ascend to heaven so he could leap to the highest pinnacle, legitimately inheriting the throne.

From this day forth, all eyes turn to the new sun, and talents aplenty gather as the king's guests.

How long did Xiang Zheng's smug good days last, exactly?

It was about a year before the late emperor's passing. He was lodging in Zhuang Lantai's chambers, woke up thirsty in the dead of night, and went to get a drink, only to hear Zhuang Lantai muttering in her sleep, softly calling out, "Awan, Awan."

Xiang Zheng stood there frozen, teacup in hand.

At first, he just thought it was funny.

But when Zhuang Lantai began tenderly stroking the still-warm blanket beside her, he began to feel that something was off.

Xiang Zheng stood still, unmoving, his gaze slowly turning cold and menacing.

...

Who'd have thought that not long after he told someone to look into it quietly, the two of them would get found out?

During that period, the emperor's health had already taken a serious turn, with frequent fevers and seizures.

Xiang Zheng came back from tending to the emperor, tired and cranky, only to find the prince's estate all decked out for a celebration, with even Xue Jie having been sent away.

That's when he remembered—tomorrow was Rong Wan's birthday.

Something stirred in Xiang Zheng's heart, and he walked toward Rong Wan's residence.

And on that day, he saw something he'd never forget:

His wife, always so proper and refined, with a tender, pitying look, her slender, jade-like fingers gently twirling the hair of the sleeping Zhuang Lantai.

Round and round.

Then she leaned down and pressed a deeply affectionate kiss into those strands of hair.

Only then did she notice Xiang Zheng, whose face was ashen.

She hesitated, then actually raised a finger to her lips: "...Shh."

Don't make noise.

Don't wake A Lan—she's sleeping.

Xiang Zheng strode over, grabbed Rong Wan by the hair, and yanked her off the dead-drunk, unconscious Zhuang Lantai.

He was choked with grief and fury, but as his eyes flicked to Zhuang Lantai's face, he couldn't help lowering his voice: "What are you doing?!"

Rong Wan didn't cry or shout, still radiating that innate dignity and composure from the very marrow of her bones: "My husband, you're so learned—have you ever heard of 'Lian Xiang Ban'?"

...

The next day, when Zhuang Lantai woke up from her drunken haze, the first thing she saw was Xiang Zheng sitting by the bed, looking all gentle, staring at her without blinking—it gave her a real fright.

Xiang Zheng asked her, in a kindly tone, what had happened the night before.

According to her, Rong Wan had invited her to her quarters for a drink.

The wine was a tribute from the Western Regions—fruity, sure, but it packed a serious punch.

After she blacked out, she didn't know a thing.

Hearing this, the weird look on Xiang Zheng's face eased up quite a bit: "I see. You've had a rough night of drinking—rest a bit before you get up."

Zhuang Lantai, clueless as ever, still tried to get up, saying matter-of-factly, "Today's Awan's birthday."

Xiang Zheng gently touched her forehead.

He liked that she knew nothing about all this.

It meant the blame fell entirely on Rong Wan—only Rong Wan.

Not his beloved Lantai.

Lantai was just too open and innocent, spending every day with her and getting fooled by her. She might not even have known about Rong Wan's filthy intentions—calling her name in her sleep was just because they spent so much time together and were so close.

The one truly guilty at heart, the one who betrayed him—there was only one person.

For Xiang Zheng, that was the only conclusion he could live with.

And Zhuang Lantai, still in the dark, went happily to see Rong Wan with a gift in hand, only to be turned away at the door.

Xue Jie said the prince and princess had had a fight, so she naturally figured Xiang Zheng had gotten upset out there and come home to take it out on Awan.

No big deal—Awan wasn't feeling well, so she could just come see her later.

Little did she know that from then on, she'd never get to see Rong Wan alone again.

...

Rong Wan was put under house arrest.

But Xiang Zheng wouldn't just cast her off.

For a woman who was unfaithful to her husband and unfit as a mother, he absolutely refused to take on the reputation of abusing his lawful wife over her, nor would he let this private household scandal leak out and ruin his own reputation.

So when he took the throne, Rong Wan stayed empress.

But she was an empress in a cage, a jewel in the palm of his hand.

In the dead of night, Rong Wan would always play and sing her own little tunes in the cold, lonely Renming Palace.

Only now did Xiang Zheng learn that her pipa had been taught by a national master that Grand Scholar Rong had specially hired.

Before this, she'd never played a single note in front of him.

Her singing was incredibly sweet: "In vain I envy the paired orioles, singing neck to neck, singing neck to neck, their harmonious cries envy the graceful beauty, envy the graceful beauty... Ah! From this parting, both our temples pile with snow, alone facing the cold quilt..."

Xiang Zheng flew into a rage, and had people take away her pipa, her poetry books, and even tore out every flower and plant in the palace.

He was set on letting her waste away slowly in the Renming Palace.

Yet Rong Wan was remarkably tough, stubbornly refusing to die.

It wasn't until Xiang Zhi Ming died that she fell ill and finally ran out of steam.

Xiang Zheng made time to go see her, and said coldly, "Empress, do you have any regrets?"

Rong Wan lay pale and frail on the bed, yet her hair was still perfectly in place and her bearing remained dignified: "May I ask Your Majesty—what exactly should I regret?"

Xiang Zheng couldn't believe his ears: "A madwoman who's done such absurd, depraved things—and you don't know what to regret?"

Rong Wan's expression remained calm: "Your Majesty, you enjoy having a house full of wives and concubines, and you delight in the pleasures of a full household. I rejoice in whatever pleases you and admire whoever you admire. I've been a model of feminine virtue—so how does that make me wanton and licentious?"

Xiang Zheng, who had never known a single setback in his life, had never suffered such a blow. He nearly broke down right then and there, pointing a trembling finger at Rong Wan in a rage: "You... you..."

Rong Wan braced herself and slowly got to her feet:

"Your Majesty, there are a few things I've wanted to say to you for years."

"I despise you."

Rong Wan laughed between ragged gasps.

All her life she'd been serene, like a figure out of a fine painting—except when she was cursing Xiang Zheng—then her eyes sparkled with fierce life: "I've been waiting for you to die—waiting a full twenty years. But alas, I can't wait any longer. ...Yes, I owe Ming'er an apology, guilty for bringing him into this world, for letting him suffer for nothing. They say a dying woman's words are kind; you might as well... take them in."

With that, Rong Wan collapsed back onto the bed: "That said, I still have one last wish. If you don't grant it, it doesn't matter."

Not surprisingly, her last wish was to see Zhuang Lantai one final time.

Xiang Zheng recalled the story of Emperor Wu of Han and Lady Li, and in a rare burst of generosity, allowed Zhuang Lantai to come see her one last time.

He wanted Zhuang Lantai's final memory of Rong Wan to be of a bitter, sickly woman spitting venom and curses.

Over the years, Zhuang Lantai had protested and fought with Xiang Zheng over his imprisonment of Rong Wan.

Eventually, she went quiet and lifeless, becoming a shadow of Rong Wan.

When she got the order, she briefly showed flashes of her old self, hurriedly dressed in the pomegranate-red riding outfit she used to wear when they rode side by side, and rushed straight to Renming Palace for an audience.

Xiang Zheng was set on staying nearby, to hear whatever treasonous words they might say.

But unexpectedly, Rong Wan's condition took a sharp turn for the worse. By the time Zhuang Lantai got there, she was already at death's door.

She looked at Zhuang Lantai and reached out her hand: "A Lan..."

Zhuang Lantai rushed to her bedside, clutching her wrist, so thin it was all bone, and rasped, "Awan, I'm here... Why? Why did it come to this?"

"It's my own fault," Rong Wan said softly. "That year you asked me if I'd take up polo. I never really wanted to learn polo—I just wanted to learn to ride... If only I could learn to ride, then the two of us could have roamed the world together..."

"Stumbling into the imperial household was never what I wanted..." Rong Wan gasped, her voice a sobbing rasp like a bellows: "I wanted to leave from the second day I set foot in the Prince's mansion. I hated it, I hated it, I wanted out... I jumped from one fire pit into another..."

"A Lan, but if I'd left, I'd never have seen you again."

Beside them, Xiang Zheng's face turned crimson, as if he'd been slapped a dozen times.

Zhuang Lantai held her hand, staring at her in a daze: "Awan, what are you saying?"

A death rattle rose from Rong Wan's throat.

She suddenly grabbed Zhuang Lantai's hand and screamed in a hoarse voice: "A Lan! Come with me... come with me!"

But Xue Jie, standing off to the side, saw it clearly.

Her eyes said only one thing: "Don't leave. Live well."

So what kind of woman was Rong Wan?

Xue Jie, as her trusted attendant, had always known.

She seemed dignified and gracious, but underneath she was the least proper, most extreme, most stubborn soul you'd ever meet.

Beneath her skin ran magma, iron bones, a lifetime of pent-up hatred and resentment.

The Crown Princess loved Consort Zhuang.

And Consort Zhuang loved her back.

Only, Consort Zhuang had never realized her own feelings.

As Xiang Zheng had said, she was truly simple and direct—even in her dreams, she never caught on to romance.

Rong Wan was quieter than her, smarter, loved more deeply, and had spent far more time with Xiang Zheng.

She'd planted her own spies among Zhuang Lantai's maids, to always keep tabs on how her A Lan was doing day to day, and to personally pickle the plums A Lan loved, just to feed her.

So when Xiang Zheng started investigating Zhuang Lantai, Rong Wan began scheming how to clear her name.

If A Lan's feelings were ever found out, no matter how much Xiang Zheng loved her, he'd have her quietly done away with.

She was just a Secondary Consort.

Besides, she had no children—not even a protective charm to keep her safe.

Once Xiang Zheng's love for her faded, with A Lan's personality, how could she ever survive?

So Rong Wan put on a performance, drawing Xiang Zheng's hidden wrath onto herself.

Xiang Zheng was a master of self-deception.

He could never accept being betrayed by two people at once; he'd surely come up with some excuse to convince himself otherwise.

Xue Jie, who knew the truth, couldn't stand it and begged her to reconsider:

What if things didn't go the way she expected?

What if Xiang Zheng hated them both, threw all decency to the wind, and had them both killed—what then?

Rong Wan said calmly, "Then we die together."

Xue Jie was rendered speechless for a moment.

In that instant, he had a strange feeling.

The "die together" Rong Wan meant wasn't about being meekly executed alongside Zhuang Lantai.

It was the "die together" of a common man's rage that turns the whole world to mourning white.

Even at death's door, Rong Wan was still worried, and sent Zhuang Lantai one last protective charm.

She kept insisting it was her own delusion, her own madness that made her crave this forbidden love, and that even at the end she was stubbornly pulling Zhuang Lantai down with her.

And only at that moment did Zhuang Lantai understand Rong Wan's feelings—and her own.

And once she knew, Rong Wan told her with her eyes: live well.

And she'd lived all the way to now, to the day Consort Xi came bearing gifts for her birthday.

...

Outside the hall, Xi Ying stood on her toes and peeked inside for a bit. When she saw the figure by the window had disappeared, she let out a careless sigh, twirled her handkerchief, and turned to go.

Creak—

The main hall door of Qingxi Palace creaked open, and the beauty who had materialized from the smoke stood at the threshold: "Since you've come, stay for a cup of tea."

Xi Ying: "...Huh?"

Zhuang Lantai turned her back: "The sun is too strong; you might get heatstroke. Besides, your makeup is smudged."

These two reasons successfully persuaded Xi Ying.

She touched her cheek: "Then... Imperial Consort, I'll be intruding on your hospitality, then."

Zhuang Lantai asked coldly: "What about the incense burner made of gems, the very expensive one?"

Seeing that Zhuang Lantai remembered her words, Xi Ying's face lit up even more: "You heard that?"

Zhuang Lantai: "Mm. Bring it in too—I'll make an offering to the gods."

With that, Xi Ying, under the stunned looks of the Qingxi Palace attendants, happily ducked into the cool main hall to beat the heat.

When Zhi Jie walked into Qingxi Palace with gifts in hand, what he saw was the attendants exchanging bewildered looks.

...It had been ages since they'd hosted outsiders; their etiquette had grown rusty, and they couldn't even figure out when to go in and top off the tea, so they just huddled together, whispering among themselves.

Zhi Jie raised an eyebrow at the sight: "What's the matter?"

Dan Qiong hurried forward, tense: "Sixth Prince, the Consort seems to have... offended some kind of deity..."

Zhi Jie: ...?

Seeing that he didn't understand, Dan Qiong put it more bluntly: "She's acting possessed!"

Zhi Jie squinted up at the blazing sky and said, deadpan: "If the Consort can get possessed in this brutal sun, then this deity must be a big deal with serious power—we'd better start brewing some talisman water."

Dan Qiong: "..."

She suspected the Sixth Prince had never let go of that time talisman water was dumped on his head.

But she couldn't prove it.