Chapter 4 Miscarriage

It is hard to be a woman, even harder to be a woman of the emperor, and hardest still to be a woman who wishes to bear the emperor a son.

On this night, in the mid-spring of the eighth year of Eternal Peace, the Ganquan Palace was ablaze with light. Scores of imperial physicians hurried through its halls with silent, swift steps. The entire inner palace was as quiet as on any other night; only the occasional chirp of unknown insects echoed from hidden corners, giving the illusion of peace. Yet in the shadowy corridors, furtive figures glided by—servant girls or eunuchs, ghostlike and noiseless.

The news of the empress’s miscarriage at Ganquan Palace spread before dawn. In the deep of night, the mistresses of several palaces had already heard.

At Yao Hua Palace, Consort Shu, who held authority over much of the harem, was the first to receive word. An informant arrived as she lay in bed, pondering the Yous’ family lineage. At the tidings, her entire being transformed, as if suddenly invigorated by spring itself. Though no lamps burned in her chamber, she seemed to glow with vitality; her eyes sparkled, shining with life.

“Karma, truly,” said the female attendant kneeling by Consort Shu’s bed, her tone filled with glee after delivering her report.

“Ronghe, hush,” Consort Shu replied, her voice calm but unable to conceal a note of lightness.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Ronghe answered crisply, joy plain on her face.

The room was shrouded in darkness. Mistress and servant remained thus—one lying, one kneeling—for the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea. After a while, Consort Shu asked, “Aside from this, is there any other movement at Ganquan Palace?”

Ronghe’s smile faded, and she frowned. “No further news, Your Grace. But the messenger said His Majesty was displeased. You know the empress brought four loyal maids from her own family, and our people dare not probe too deeply for fear of exposure.”

Consort Shu picked at her bedding and sighed, “We have too few people we can truly rely upon, and fewer still who are both loyal and capable. Ganquan Palace… never mind. Noble families are always formidable; their abilities should not be underestimated. So be it—neither too close nor too distant, neither attracting the empress’s suspicion nor His Majesty’s displeasure. Enough. Go now. It’s late—we should all rest. Tomorrow we shall visit our mistress, bereft of her child.”

No matter how composed Consort Shu was, she could not help but smile upon hearing of the empress’s misfortune—a smile of such satisfaction and relief that, had the empress herself seen it, she would surely have torn the woman’s face apart.

Consort Shu was not alone in her power. The Empress Dowager, long dissatisfied with the empress, also received word promptly. Her joy was unconcealed; she immediately sent someone to inform the Noble Consort, her own niece. With the empress confined for over a month after her loss, now was the perfect opportunity. If, during this time, the Noble Consort could conceive, it would be even better.

Compared to these two, the Noble Consort’s reaction was rather intriguing. Awakened from deep sleep, she was dazed at first, but upon hearing the news, she clapped her hands and laughed, cursing You Daidai roundly in her own chamber. Her spirits soared, and she did not sleep the rest of the night, eagerly awaiting to witness the empress’s humiliation come morning.

In Ganquan Palace, a large folding screen and layers of curtains separated Ji Ye from the bedside. He sat, while dozens of imperial physicians knelt, listening to You Daidai’s cries of pain from within. Ji Ye’s face was as cold as frost.

After a while, a middle-aged woman’s voice called out, “It’s done.” Soon, a woman who appeared to be a nurse emerged, carrying a basin of bloody water in which floated a clot.

Such blood and filth were not fit for the emperor’s eyes. The nurse tried to shield the basin with her wide sleeves, intending to slip past, but Ji Ye, lost in thought, raised his hand and commanded, “Bring it here.”

“Your Majesty, it is inauspicious…”

“Bring it here!” His tone brooked no refusal.

The emperor was grieving his lost son; none dared defy him. The basin was brought before him.

Like the mangled body of a mouse, Ji Ye thought, his heart growing cold. For a moment, all seemed void. From behind the screen, You Daidai’s faint moans could be heard. With a wave, he said, “Take it away.”

In this palace, such unformed, stillborn children were not uncommon—a simple casket and burial would suffice.

“What’s done is done. You may all leave. Yang Tiandong will remain.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Though they had failed to preserve the imperial heir, the emperor laid no blame; the imperial physicians, sweating with relief, hurried away.

On the bed, Qing Dai was awake. She had endured the ordeal of miscarriage, grimacing with pain. Once a great demon who ruled the Flower Valley, she had never suffered such torment. She cursed all the gods beneath the sky and swore: if ever she discovered the one who had plotted against her, she would pursue them even to the Buddha himself!

In a side hall of Ganquan Palace, after dismissing the others, Ji Ye drew a white silk handkerchief from his sleeve and handed it to Yang Tiandong. “Examine these bloodstains.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Yang Tiandong was born into a family of physicians, identifying herbs since the age of two. At a glance, he recognized the black blood on the handkerchief. He sniffed it carefully, his expression changing abruptly. “This is a powerful poison!”

Ji Ye had his suspicions, but confirmation still filled him with fury. Yet, after years on the throne, he had mastered the art of concealing his emotions. His hand gripping the teacup turned white, his lips pressed into a thin line. After a tense pause, he asked, “How can we be sure?”

“Without direct testing, I dare not speak lightly, but Your Majesty may soak this poisoned blood in water and feed it to a cat or dog. In my experience, however, this is certainly a deadly poison.” Yang Tiandong’s mind churned. He had taken the empress’s pulse—it bore the signs of residual toxin.

The source of the poisoned blood was now apparent.

The empress’s father, uncle, and cousins were fighting for the nation at the front, while at the rear someone had tried to murder their only daughter, threatening the empress’s position. Such treachery was a crime against the state, punishable by extermination of nine clans.

“You alone have my permission to take your mistress’s pulse. Tell me her current condition.” Ji Ye’s voice was as cold as water. He gritted his teeth. “No matter what, before General-in-Chief returns triumphant, you must keep her alive.”

Yang Tiandong was astonished. “Why do you say this, Your Majesty? I examined Her Grace and found she is not in serious danger. Only some residual poison remains. In fact, I wondered if Your Majesty had used some secret medicine to save her.”

Ji Ye was surprised. “You said it was deadly poison. How is she still alive?”

His expression darkened at once, and he glared at Yang Tiandong, making his meaning clear: Are you toying with me?

“Your Majesty, please understand!” Yang Tiandong dropped to his knees with a thud, swearing an oath. “In my judgment, this is definitely a most potent poison. Forgive my earlier omission—it smells just like red-crowned crane’s venom.”

That poison is lethal upon entering the blood. Even Ji Ye could not remain calm. His face turned to iron. “Summon someone to bring a large dog from the precious animal quarters.”

Li Fuquan, Ji Ye’s trusted chief eunuch, was waiting outside. At the order, he quickly dispatched an apprentice to fetch one.

Within the hall, Ji Ye could no longer contain himself. With a sweep of his sleeve, he shattered a fine tea set.

“Calm yourself, Your Majesty,” Yang Tiandong urged. To serve as Chief Imperial Physician and earn Ji Ye’s trust, one must be keenly perceptive. That poison—crane’s venom—killed instantly at the slightest contact. Used today to kill the empress, who could say it wouldn’t be turned on the emperor tomorrow? It was colorless and tasteless, deadly in the extreme. No wonder the emperor was furious; Yang Tiandong himself was drenched in cold sweat.

“If I discover who did this, I will exterminate their entire clan!”

Yang Tiandong reflected that the empress had many enemies; such a trail would not be easy to follow. He ventured, “With respect, though the court strictly forbids this poison, it is not hard to procure. The great families of the capital possess it—should the Empress Dowager, Noble Consort, or Consort Shu wish it, a single word would suffice.”

Ji Ye knew this well enough; his own stores held similar poisons. That was why he was so enraged—someone had dared to poison his woman in his own harem, brazenly challenging his authority, treating him as if he were nothing.

Li Fuquan was efficient; soon, the dog was brought in and the test left no doubt.

Fury was inevitable, but this was not the time to make the matter public. Ji Ye had to endure. He had ascended the throne eight years prior, spending five as a puppet emperor. Only three years ago, after marrying You Daidai, had he begun to reclaim power. The kingdom had since been plagued by war, the treasury depleted, soldiers frequently conscripted, and the people resentful—many accused him of warmongering. His popularity was low, his throne unsteady, and emboldened courtiers thought him easy to manipulate.

Ji Ye laughed coldly to himself. Very well, let them wait and see.

He was only twenty-three; he could afford to play the long game with those old regents.

But this battle he must win. It was his first decree after assuming full power, and there could be no turning back, no matter the obstacles. Therefore, You Daidai must survive. The child was lost, but she—she must live freely, boldly.

“You are a man I trust. Speak of this to no one. You are now fully responsible for your mistress’s recovery. See that you return to me a healthy, long-lived empress.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I will not fail you.”