CH 32

The palace was brightly lit with lanterns on New Year’s Eve. The Emperor and Empress sat at the hosts’ seats on a raised platform, smiling at the Imperial wives and princes seated before them in the main hall. They both raised their winecups in unison, signalling that the banquet could begin.

The concubines sat facing the east, and the princes sat opposite them, facing the west. The princesses were allowed to sit with their mothers. They were all seated according to their rank, and within their ranks, their age. The lower ranked or the younger one was, the further away they were seated from the Emperor and Empress. 

As one of the youngest few princes, Chen Ziqi’s seat was close to the main door. It was customary for the Imperial family to bestow New Year’s gifts to the nobility in the Capital, and the first part of the New Year’s banquet was dedicated to announcing the gifts and sending them out. The palace door was kept open whilst this was happening because the gift-bearing couriers kept moving in and out. The cold wind gusted in through the open door, turning the dishes on the table to ice.

The dishes were not the only things that were frosting over. Ah Mu sat on the very last seat, the one nearest to the door, and he was shivering uncontrollably in the cold.

Chang Er sat opposite them, and when she saw the two children’s plight, she instructed Fuyuan to bring two thick cloaks to them.

“Niangniang, it’s not proper to wear cloaks in the main hall,” Fuyuan cautioned quietly. 

“The children are freezing to death! Is this the time to care about what’s proper or not? They’re going to fall sick if they carry on like this. Go on, get the cloaks – I’ll take the responsibility if the Emperor gets angry,” Chang Er said vehemently, her eyebrows raised.

Fuyuan had no choice but to obey. Before long, he returned carrying two thick foxfur cloaks.

Chen Ziqi was hugging the little red bird close as he shivered violently from the cold. He thought he was going to freeze to death. His eyes rolled in their sockets as he seriously considered saying that he was having the runs so that he could escape to the side palace for a short while. Dan Yi pressed his fluffy little body to the shivering Chen Ziqi and transferred some warm neili into Chen Ziqi’s meridians.

“Eh?” Chen Ziqi exclaimed softly, surprised at this sudden warmth. He looked down at the little red bird at his chest. This divine chicken even had the ability to repel the cold – it was really quite the useful creature!

At this moment, Fuxi thrust a thick, fluffy cloak on him from behind. Chen Ziqi immediately pulled the cloak close, wrapping it tightly around himself as if the cloak were a blanket.

Dan Yi looked on a little helplessly; he had originally thought to induce Chen Ziqi to use his own neili to warm himself up, but now that Chen Ziqi had a cloak, was he just going to treat him as a hand warmer?! Dan Yi stopped transferring neili to Chen Ziqi and poked his head out of Chen Ziqi’s clothes. The grey foxfur coat was so thick that his little head couldn’t poke out of it fully, and all that could be seen from the outside was his pastel yellow beak.

Chen Ziqi pinched some cake and fed it to the little bird.

“Achoo!” The Eighth Prince sneezed, shivering. He was sitting next to Chen Ziqi, and looked enviously at his warm cloak. He then turned to look pleadingly at his own mother. 

The Eighth Prince’s mother was Hui Pin. She glared at her son, silently telling him to sit still. The Seventh and Eleventh Princes were all raised by that village bumpkin Chang Er, so of course they didn’t have any sense of propriety. Her own son absolutely could not follow their terrible example. She was sure that in a bit, the Empress would see that the two boys were clad in cloaks and would throw a fit; she and the Eighth Prince would certainly have the last laugh.

Meanwhile, the Empress was waiting with bated breath for something else to happen, and didn’t notice what was happening at the end of the main hall at all. When the gifts were all sent out, the banquet proper began. “At today’s family banquet, we have a theatrical troupe here to perform for us. I was originally hoping that some of the consorts could put up a sword dance, but it seems that they are indisposed, so I arranged for a performing troupe to come instead,” she said, smiling.

Everyone sat up on hearing that a theatrical troupe was here to perform for them. This was much more interesting than just listening to musicians or watching a dance.

“Could I ask which play they are performing?” the Guifei couldn’t help asking. She felt that there was something very suspicious about the way the Empress smiled. 

“This play is called ‘A Peach Masquerading as a Plum’. It’s also my first time watching it,” the Empress said, throwing a meaningful look at Cheng Jieyu, who was sitting a seat down from Chang Er. She raised a hand to indicate that the troupe could start their performance.

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The first half of the play was about a girl named Red Plum, who went to serve a nobleman on the master of house’s orders. The young girl was besotted with the nobleman at first sight, and was utterly dismayed when he left. She then discovered that she was pregnant, and prepared to raise this child on her own.

Chang Er found the premise of this play rather distasteful. She pursed her lips, and whispered to Cheng Jieyu next to her. “What’s there to be happy about in serving a nobleman…” she began, before trailing off abruptly. She realised that this Cheng Jieyu very likely wasn’t the same girl who had been sent to service the Emperor, and probably didn’t understand how she felt at all. She decided not to continue, and remained silent after that. 

Cheng Jieyu didn’t respond. The fabric of her sleeves twisted as she gripped them tighter and tighter, her hands hidden within the sleeves. Why did the events in this play seem rather familiar?

“Meimei, I’ll give you this opportunity to enter the aristocracy. My only request is that you raise this child properly on my behalf,” Red Plum said, her originally joyful face now reduced to tears as she pleaded with her younger sister, Red Peach.

“On this earth, there’s only one Red Plum, and if you’re still alive, they will be able to see through me,” Red Peach said, flicking her sleeves dismissively. She was wearing a colourful, elaborate theatrical costume. “Wealth, honour and glory are easy to get. Passing off a plum as a peach is the best solution. You are of lowly birth, why try to fight with me? It’s best if you go to sleep at the bottom of the cliff. I’ll burn three sticks of incense for you during the Qingming Festival.”

Cheng Jieyu’s face was suddenly as white as sheet. She clasped her hands together tightly, trembling uncontrollably. 

In the end, Red Plum was strangled to death in her home, and Red Peach stepped into her place, taking the bright future that should have been Red Plum’s.

“We’re celebrating the New Year – why is this troupe performing a tragedy? How inauspicious,” the Guifei said, very displeased. She didn’t reward the theatrical troupe at all.

“Guifei doesn’t understand. There’s a big issue being portrayed in this play,” the Empress said, carefully enunciating every syllable. Her gaze fell on the pale, stricken-looking Cheng Jieyu. “Cheng Jieyu, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Pinqie…” Cheng Jieyu stammered, her voice trailing off. She didn’t want to answer, but the Empress had directed the question at her personally, and she couldn’t very well remain silent. She began to get to her feet, but before she had fully stood up, her eyes suddenly rolled back in her head, and she keeled over in a dead faint. 

There was chaos in the main hall after that. The Empress instructed servants to carry Cheng Jieyu to the side palace to rest. The Zhenlong Emperor noticed that something was amiss, and he turned to face his Empress. “What is going on here?” he asked.

The Empress had originally wanted to show up Cheng Jieyu on the spot so as to disgrace the Qi sects, but on seeing Cheng Jieyu’s reaction, she suddenly thought of an even better idea.

“Chenqie also isn’t very sure, but this play is from Cheng Jieyu’s hometown. It might have triggered some memories of home,” she said.

This New Year’s Eve saga thus drew to a close in an abstruse fashion. The next day, Cheng Jieyu went to the Fengyi Palace and knelt before the Empress. 

“Does your Shifu, the Abbess Wuyin, know that she took in such a heartless, unscrupulous disciple?” the Empress asked in a lofty manner, slowly sipping her tea.

“This position was indeed given to me by Cheng Jiayao, but I know nothing of why or how she died,” Cheng Jieyu said. There were dark circles under her eyes. She had probably spent a sleepless night thinking about how to explain herself. “I took her place, and therefore had to carry out her duties, including entering the palace. My martial arts powers were dispersed, but I haven’t complained even once…”

“You haven’t complained even once?” the Empress sniffed derisively, then unceremoniously splashed the tea in her teacup onto Cheng Jieyu’s face. “If you really have no complaints, where did the injuries on the Sixth Prince’s body come from?”

Cheng Jieyu resisted the urge to wipe the liquid off her face. She took a deep breath, then kowtowed. “I am ever grateful that you didn’t expose me in front of everyone yesterday. I believe that Niangniang did so because I am still of some use to you. If there is anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to say so. I will walk through hell and high water for you if you give the command. I only ask that you do not tell the Sixth Prince about this,” she said. 

Now, Chen Zimo was her only hope. He was the only one who could take revenge for the Cheng family.

The Empress looked at her and smiled in a cold, jeering manner. She threw a document down in front of her. “Sign this. As to how I will use you, I still need to think about it,” she said.

The document was a statement of admission, and its contents set out clearly how the Cheng family had caused Cheng Jiayao’s death, as well as how Cheng Jiazhen had taken all of the benefits due to Cheng Jiayao. It was more or less accurate, even though there were some minor factual discrepancies.

Cheng Jieyu had no choice but to sign the statement of admission with a shaking hand even though she had not received any confirmation from the Empress that what she asked for would be granted. In response to her request, the Empress’ non-committal reply was, “We’ll see how you perform.” Which also meant, if she did not behave herself and do as the Empress demanded in future, she would tell all to the Sixth Prince. 

After Cheng Jieyu left, the Empress summoned the Second Prince over, and gave that signed confession to him. “Take this and go to the Suxin Sect. Make a copy as well,  and give the copy to the Qi Confederate Leader, Luo Hongfeng. Don’t say anything when you send it over,” she instructed.

If news of this got out, the Suxin Sect would lose face big time. That old abbess heading Suxin Sect certainly had to show some sincerity.

The Second Prince’s eyes brightened. “Mother is most wise,” he said.

The most frightening thing in the world was not being given a death sentence; it was living in constant fear and not knowing when you would be killed off. Cheng Jieyu suffered like this for a few days and eventually fell ill from the strain. 

In her nightmares, everything was pitch black, and she was running frantically in the darkness. Her body grew weaker and weaker, and her legs felt heavier and heavier as she ran.

“Aunty, why are you running?” the adult Chen Zimo asked her, hefting Cheng Zhou’s huge axe on his shoulder. He looked ominously at her, then raised the axe and brought it down on her head. “Return my mother to life!”

“AH!” Cheng Jieyu screamed. She came fully awake in that instant and looked around, trembling, trying to collect herself.

In the shadows of her room, someone watched her from under the window. She couldn’t see the facial features of that person clearly. “Aunty…” 

“AHHHHHHH!” Cheng Jieyu shrieked like a banshee when she heard the shadowy person address her this way. A few palace maids and eunuchs scurried in to see what was wrong.

“Jieyu niangniang, are you alright?” the palace maids asked. They were also frightened by her screams.

“Chen Zimo!” Cheng Jieyu shouted, staring at the shadows in her room. “What did you call me just now?”

Chen Zimo walked out of the darkness, his face expressionless. “Concubine-mother,” he said flatly. 

Cheng Jieyu glared at him, then exhaled suddenly. “What weird form of address is this? Who did you learn it from? You’re not to call me that in future,” she snapped.

Shrill screams from Cheng Jieyu’s room continued to pierce the night over the next few days. The palace staff all whispered that she had gone mad.

The Second Prince suggested that it was best for the Sixth Prince to move into Chaoyang Palace, as she had gone insane and constantly beat the Sixth Prince. The Zhenlong Emperor didn’t think that Cheng Jieyu was crazy, but the Empress coaxed him into looking at the Sixth Prince’s injuries.

The shocking black and blue bruises criss-crossed all over Chen Zimo’s body. The Zhenlong Emperor threw his teacup down in a rage. “This mad woman! Get the Imperial Physicians to look at her, and if she’s really unwell, lock her up in Yeting Palace,” he ordered. 

Yeting Palace was in the remote northwestern corner of the palace grounds. Very few people went there ordinarily.

Chen Zimo got his wish to stay in Chaoyang Palace, and was finally able to eat his fill and dress warmly. It was also convenient for him to go to the external palace to learn martial arts from Cheng Zhou when he stayed at Chaoyang Palace. He looked visibly healthier and livelier.

“I’m going to keep her alive. When I’ve grown up, I’ll bring her to my mother’s grave to admit her wrongdoings,” Berry Brown said. He offered some new snacks he got to Chen Ziqi. “Everything really worked out as you said it would. How did you manage to frighten her to this extent, though?”

“There’s a saying that if you don’t have a guilty conscience, you won’t be afraid of ghosts knocking on your door at night. She has a guilty conscience, so of course she’s scared,” Chen Ziqi said, raising his chin arrogantly. 

Dan Yi perched on Chen Ziqi’s shoulder and pecked some of the snack that Chen Ziqi held up to him, thinking to himself that this round, the saying was certainly spot on.

Winter turned into spring, and seven years passed, just like that.

—

Author’s note: Mini-theater 

Qiqi: What? Seven years have passed just like that?

Birdie Gong: What? Only seven years?

Qiqi: I haven’t fully enjoyed my childhood yet!

Birdie Gong: You still can’t do X-rated things at fourteen years old! 

Qiqi: →_→