Chapter 57: The Little Nun (Part One)

He returned to the palace and resumed his role as emperor, living as he had before—rising, sitting, sleeping, all unchanged. He did not drown his sorrows in wine, nor did longing gnaw at his bones, and never did he break down in inconsolable tears.

It was as if what he had burned to death with his own hands had been nothing more than a grotesque beast he had always feared.

Dusk was approaching, another day passing. Li Fuquan, ever cautious, stepped forward and observed him closely for a while. Seeing Ji Ye’s expression was indeed calm and composed, his heart lightened and he said, “Your Majesty, it is time for supper.”

Ji Ye set aside the last memorial, pinched the bridge of his nose, and for a moment his mind was blank, limbs stiff, unsure of the day. He closed his eyes, regained composure, and reopened them, all as usual. Suddenly, he said, “I wish to have a banquet of snake dishes tonight.”

Li Fuquan uttered a soft gasp, quickly masked his surprise and went to relay the order, his heart pounding.

He had served Ji Ye for many years and knew well that the emperor kept a snake garden not out of fondness for those cold creatures, but out of fear. Ji Ye’s temperament was such that the more he feared something, the more determined he was to confront and overcome it. Take the snake banquet—he had ordered the imperial chefs to develop it and promote it throughout the land, yet he himself had never eaten it. Even when feasting with his ministers, he barely touched it, merely tasting for show.

Now, with no apparent reason, he requested this snake banquet. Wasn’t that odd?

But imperial orders could not be refused, so Li Fuquan sighed and hurried the chefs to prepare the meal anew.

The imperial kitchen served only the emperor, separate from the harem. Thus, even at dinner hour, preparing a new table of dishes was possible.

In Qianyuan Hall, the lamps glowed, palace maids and eunuchs stood ready, and the table was lined with snake-based dishes. Ji Ye sat in his chair, chopsticks moving swiftly, with Li Fuquan relegated to mere decoration.

Ji Ye fished a whole snake from the Dragon and Phoenix Soup, began eating from the head, swallowing bones whole, never pausing. The fried snake meat, snake meat stew—none were spared.

More than ten dishes vanished within half an hour, leaving Li Fuquan and the dozen attendants stunned.

“Take it away,” Ji Ye said calmly, wiping the soup from the corner of his mouth.

Li Fuquan was momentarily dazed, then quickly bowed and replied, “Yes, Your Majesty.”

They were all well-trained, quickly regrouping, and softly cleared the table. At this moment, a delicate-featured female official came forward with a golden basin, her voice sweet: “Your Majesty, please wash.”

Li Fuquan had arranged for her. With the concubines withdrawn from court and the noble consort bedridden after her family’s demise, the empress dead, and with the high-ranking consorts gone, jealousy among the ladies had faded. It was the perfect chance for talented and beautiful women of influential families to rise, and some had directly petitioned Li Fuquan, under the pretense of relieving the emperor’s burdens. Li Fuquan had gladly agreed, hence this female official.

Ji Ye did not lift his eyelids, washed his hands, and suddenly felt the urge to vomit. As the water in the basin rippled, he abruptly began to retch.

“Your Majesty!”

Li Fuquan was terrified, hastily pushed aside the female official and took the basin himself, lowering his voice to instruct, “Quickly summon the imperial physicians.”

Ji Ye could not stop vomiting, his stomach surging like waves, yet his mind was clear.

Everything he had eaten, he expelled.

“What do we do? Why are the physicians not here yet?”

Ji Ye waved his hand, took a cloth from the female official and wiped his mouth, saying, “Do not alarm anyone else.”

Li Fuquan’s eyes were red, choking out, “It is all my fault, I should have stopped Your Majesty from eating the snake banquet.”

Hearing the word “snake,” Ji Ye felt a sweet, fishy taste rise in his stomach, and with a retch, vomited a mouthful of blood into the golden basin.

Li Fuquan stood rigid, face pale, unable to speak.

The maids and eunuchs all knelt in panic.

“I am fine,” Ji Ye said, then bent over the basin again, retching blood in great gulps, turning the water in the basin crimson in an instant.

The imperial physicians arrived late, seeing the emperor’s bloodless face, each held their breath and began to take his pulse in turn. Meanwhile, Ji Ye continued to vomit blood, unresponsive to any medicine.

The physicians broke out in cold sweat, knocking their heads on the floor, crying out, “We are incompetent.”

At that moment, chanting from outside the hall heralded the arrival of the abbot of the Grand Buddha Temple, who entered serenely.

Ji Ye closed his shadowed eyes, dismissed the physicians and other attendants, and said coldly, “Master, please recite sutras for me through the night.”

Yet his illness did not abate, only eased somewhat. Five years passed in a blink, and he became thin as a skeleton.

At last, Li Fuquan understood the crux of the matter. In the five years since, Ji Ye had not stepped into the harem, and as he approached thirty, he remained without an heir. The imperial clan began to stir, urging ministers to petition for adopting a clan child; the youngest son of Prince Ning was the favored candidate.

Li Fuquan, loyal to the bone, fretted until his mouth broke out in sores, secretly sending men to search the populace for women who resembled the late empress.

But these women only had the empress’s appearance, none her spirit. Each time, they left weeping under the emperor’s indifferent gaze, and Li Fuquan was punished three times, each leaving him battered and bruised.

Autumn arrived. In the morning, white frost covered the rooftops. The monks of the Grand Buddha Temple were already following the abbot in morning prayers, among them a guest of supreme status. Because of this guest, the temple became the national temple of the Dayan Dynasty, and their abbot was now granted free access to the palace as the imperial preceptor.

The irritating sound of chanting and wooden fish finally ceased, and Li Fuquan, waiting outside, exhaled greatly, his face much relieved. He held onto the door frame, peered inside, and saw that the emperor had no intention of leaving yet.

Whatever question the emperor asked the old abbot, the abbot put on a solemn air, chanted a Buddhist phrase, and said, “You cannot attain what you desire simply because you have never had it. If you once possessed it, you would not be attached. Your Majesty is too caught up in appearances—better to follow your true heart.”

“Thank you for your guidance.”

Li Fuquan pursed his lips, withdrew from his spying, stamped his feet, blew warm air into his hands, and instructed a young eunuch, “Serve carefully. I’m going for a walk.”

The young eunuch grinned and accepted.

Meanwhile, in the garden of the Prince of Loyalty and Righteousness’s mansion, a boy of about five years, fair and delicate as carved jade, was leading a group of little children, their eyes fixed greedily on the golden pears hanging from the tree.

A golden-yellow, flat-necked snake was coiled on the branch, and as it lashed its tail at the largest pear, with a slap, the fruit fell and splattered juice everywhere. The little boy snorted, “Foolish,” tucked his robe into his gold-and-jade belt, and climbed the tree with swift agility.

The flat-necked snake, appearing aggrieved, tucked its head into its coiled body, stubbornly refusing to budge. The boy snorted again, picked a pear, and whistled to the pangolin lying at the base of the tree. The pangolin moved at his signal, catching the falling pear with its body so it landed undamaged on the ground. The waiting children cheered in delight.

A chubby little girl with her hair in buns drooled and mumbled, “Brother Lotus, pick more, pick more, there’s not enough to eat!”

An older boy snatched the pear from his younger brother and stuffed it into the girl’s mouth, patting her hair indulgently, “Eat, they’re all yours.” With a fox-like grin, he swept his gaze over the younger boys, who immediately straightened up like soldiers.

“Very good.” The boy on the tree, his face stern, resumed picking pears.

“Oh heavens, young master Lotus, that’s dangerous!” An old nurse appeared from some corner, looking up with alarm at the boy in the tree.

“Silence,” the boy commanded with innate authority, impressive for one so young.

The nurse, cowed, turned to seek help. The boy snickered, grabbed a thick branch and shook it hard, causing a shower of pears, to the delight of his companions. Only the five-foot-long pangolin suffered, flailing its clumsy tail, confused and exhausted.

The golden pears spun on its back before dropping to the ground, as if dancing, making the would-be catcher, You Wu, laugh gleefully.

The chubby girl, seeing him approach, thought it was trouble, mouth full of fruit, dashed into You Wu’s arms, drooling and mumbling, “Daddy.”

Qinglian slid down from the tree ahead of her, brushed off the leaves and dust, clasped his hands and bowed with great courtesy, “Sixth Uncle, good morning.”

The other children hurried to imitate, calling him daddy, sixth uncle, or sixth elder, in a noisy jumble, their childish voices lively and cheerful.

You Wu was not as strict as You Wufeng; he always doted on the boys. Seeing his eldest and fourth brothers were absent, he quickly shushed them and whispered, “The situation’s not good, time to retreat.”

The children cheered, clutching pears as they scattered.

Qinglian smiled, beckoning to the chubby girl, “Jin’er, come, Lotus brother will take you to the Grand Buddha Temple.”

“Mm-hmm.” The girl kicked her own father aside and ran happily to Qinglian’s small chest.

Under the pear tree, an autumn breeze swept away the leaves, leaving the foolish father standing alone, his face dark.

Author’s note: For the eighth.