Chapter 13: The Jade Carving Tool
Night had fallen once more, and the palace was aglow with lanterns. The evening meal had just been cleared away in the Palace of Jade Radiance. After rinsing his mouth and washing up, Ji Ye reclined against a pillow, assisted by the Lady of Grace, to aid his digestion.
Ji Ye had always kept silent during meals since childhood; thus, even when his displeasure was evident, no one dared utter a word until they moved from the hall into the inner chamber. Only then did the Lady of Grace sit beside him, gently smoothing his thick, dark brows, and asked softly, “Are you upset with someone, Ye?”
Ji Ye took her hand in his, lowered his gaze, and let out a cold laugh, “The Yous are far too arrogant. This noon, I summoned Lady Xing to the palace in the Empress’s name. Do you know how she replied? She said: ‘An orange grown south of the Huai River is an orange; grown north, it becomes a trifoliate orange.’ Such a shrewd woman, she bested me before I could speak.”
“I’ve heard something of the matter,” the Lady of Grace replied gently. “I understand Lady Xing claimed illness and could not come. That’s not unreasonable. The You clan has rendered great service; Ye, you must be tolerant.”
“Yes, great service,” Ji Ye echoed, feeling even more ill at ease. Yet he was no tyrant swayed by pillow talk; the Yous’ merit was fact, not flattery, and he could not, in good conscience, deny it. He continued, “Lady Xing is usually courteous and sensible. Today’s conduct isn’t her fault. The blame lies with You Daidai. You know, the You clan has produced only one daughter in three generations, and they dote on her endlessly. Whenever Daidai is involved, Lady Xing loses her composure. Her words—‘An orange grown south is an orange; in the north, a trifoliate orange’—on the surface are a rebuke, suggesting the harem has spoiled her girl, and she washes her hands of it. But in truth, she means Daidai has been transplanted into my harem, and its atmosphere has shaped her. Thus, the consequences are mine to bear—an indirect plea for my tolerance. In Lady Xing’s eyes, it’s never Daidai’s fault; the blame lies with me. Tell me, isn’t Lady Xing unreasonable?”
“I think—” The Lady of Grace began, but Ji Ye cut her off, propping his head on his hand as he spoke, “In that case, Daidai’s reckless nature truly isn’t her fault; it must be Lady Xing and You Hai, You Jiang, and the rest who spoiled her.”
“You’re right, Ye. But I recall a story: twin sisters were separated at birth. The elder was raised in luxury, cherished and pampered; the younger grew up in hardship, working daily. Years later, they met again, and both had become gentle and virtuous, their natures much alike.”
“Is that so?” Ji Ye tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, regarding her with a half-smile.
The Lady of Grace blushed, hastily adding, “It’s just something I heard from the servants—I don’t know if it’s true.”
“I understand. The servants flatter their mistress, saying whatever pleases. Don’t let them spoil you.”
“No need to worry, Ye. I know my own mind,” she replied, shaking his hand and feigning a pout.
“You always please me, Yinyin. If only Daidai had half your understanding, I wouldn’t be troubled. Enough—Daidai is destined to be mediocre, so I must be more forgiving. It’s late, Yinyin; you should rest.”
Seeing Ji Ye about to leave, the Lady of Grace hurried to her feet. “Ye, won’t you stay here tonight?”
“No. I’ve already sent word to the Noble Consort—I’ll spend the night in her palace. Tomorrow, I’ll have lunch with you. Li Fuquan, prepare the carriage for Yongle Palace.” With that, he strode away, hands clasped behind his back.
“Farewell, Your Majesty,” the Lady of Grace said, kneeling to see him off.
Only when the faint scent of dragon incense on his robes had vanished did she rise, her eyes filled with doubt. “He only spoke a few words to me, yet mentioned Daidai nine times. The Empress, Daidai—have I underestimated you?”
“My lady…” Fenghe hesitated.
“It’s nothing,” the Lady of Grace replied, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with practiced calm. “Let’s watch and wait. Our Noble Consort isn’t one to let matters rest easily. For the son she lost—a nearly full-term boy—she’ll never let the Empress have peace. The Yous are powerful and untouchable, but who can predict disaster or fate? Life and death are ordained, fortune granted by heaven. Even the most cherished treasure can be shattered—who’s to blame then?”
“Indeed, my lady,” Fenghe agreed, adding, “Had that boy been born, he’d be the eldest prince. The Noble Consort must regret it bitterly and will never reconcile with the Empress. Let them fight. Now is the perfect time for you to nurture your health and strive for a son.”
“Who doesn’t wish for a son? If I could bear one, I wouldn’t need my dear sister in Qianyue Pavilion. Enough—let’s not speak of it. Help me to bed.”
“Yes, my lady.”
The nights grew shorter, and at dawn, Ji Ye awoke punctually. The Noble Consort attended him as he dressed and washed before heading to morning court.
Magpies perched on branches. The Noble Consort, Lady Lü, leaned against the railing, gazing into the distance until Ji Ye’s figure vanished. Her face showed no joy; though she was scheduled to receive his favor that night, she hadn’t. In truth, though she could win six or seven nights a month, she was truly favored only one or two.
She consoled herself that her cousin was busy with affairs of state and too weary for intimacy. Seven years in the palace, outsiders believed she was more favored than anyone, but only she knew his heart belonged elsewhere—to the Lady of Grace, Liu Yuying.
Lady Lü’s lips twisted into a grim smile, her scarlet nails gouging five white marks into the red pillar as she thought: Wretch, don’t think you’re the only clever one in the harem. Others are not fools. Don’t get too pleased with yourself. Once I deal with that harlot Daidai, I’ll turn on you next.
In the Palace of Sweet Springs, a certain spirit, dizzy with sleep, was being dragged from bed by four lady officials, nagging her to copy “The Rules for Women.” Pitiful for a creature that had lived a thousand years but never touched a brush; to be suddenly made to write was torture indeed.
Her face, pale as a magnolia blossom, twisted in frustration, her tiny cherry lips pursed high to show her discontent—a new skill she’d mastered herself: pouting like a hanging oil bottle to express anger. In this regard, human faces were more expressive and amusing; she liked them.
“I won’t write!” After ruining the fiftieth sheet of paper, the spirit went on strike, collapsing into a pile of ink-soaked paper, turning her radiant face into a rag.
Qiuyun sighed, “If my lady won’t write, so be it. You may play chess with Dongcang, or play music and paint.” She laid a clean sheet on the table, lifted her sleeve, and began copying herself.
The spirit grumbled happily, “That’s more like it. I don’t write because it’s natural; you do, because it’s natural. Each follows their fate—that’s true beauty.”
Xiaji, cleaning up the mess, laughed, “It’s just copying a book—how does it relate to nature and fate? My lady is simply lazy.”
Why not? You force the snake into hardship, Qingdai muttered, resting her chin on the table, blinking. “Can you expect a mouse to play music, or a human to dig holes? That’s what I mean.”
Qiuyun stared, her heart pounding, forcing a smile. “My lady, how can you compare yourself so randomly?”
Chunmo hurried to add, “My lady, please listen: Don’t speak carelessly before outsiders—it could cause great trouble.”
Qingdai’s eyes dimmed; she drooped, murmuring, “Let me think. I’m muddled from sleep—my head isn’t working.”
A drop of ink bled into the paper; Qiuyun quickly replaced it. Chunmo clenched the chess piece in her palm, her face pale. Xiaji’s smooth forehead broke out in cold sweat, her smile forced.
The room fell silent.
Qingdai grew bored, wriggling her hips as she wandered off to the sleeping chamber.
How she wished she could wake up in her own nest again. Though the Flower Valley was lonely and desolate, she knew it well. There, she was the invincible little tyrant snake.
At noon, Ji Ye came again, claiming he was there to inspect the punishment he’d imposed the day before. Yet she felt she’d done nothing wrong.
She simply disliked wearing those fabrics—whether to wear them or not should be her own choice. Why should she care about others’ opinions?
Shameless means lacking a sense of shame, not caring about face. But she never had such peculiar feelings, nor such a peculiar face.
On the vermilion bedding, her jade body lay in a seductive pose, tempting enough to make one swallow their tongue. Such was the scene Ji Ye found upon parting the white gauze curtains in the inner chamber.
Beneath his seemingly ascetic face, his desire stirred restlessly.
Good—his empress had once again ensnared him with her charms. That was the only explanation he could offer for his unruly emotions.
The papers he held behind his back drifted to the floor. He leaned down, lightly caressing Daidai’s back—smooth as silk, fragrant to the bone—tracing upward along her spine, gripping her fragile neck before daring to meet her gaze.
Her eyes, black as obsidian, lashes curling like butterfly wings, shone with a lonely brilliance, as if lit by the eternal spring moon over countless rivers.
Perhaps it was his imagination; what hurt was not his heart.
Desire faded silently. He sat beside her, uncontrollably stroking her long, dark hair.
Who could resist giving a gentle caress to a beautiful porcelain vessel that had wandered through millennia, never finding its true master?
In this moment, his empress was a carved jade artifact.
Even spirits have moments of sorrow; Daidai didn’t wish to speak, not even to a king.
She turned away, rolled over, and retreated into her own sadness.