Chapter 11: Farewell, and No Need to See You Off

What is an empress? What does it mean to be an empress beloved by all, who lives out her days in honor? Such a woman must embody every quality befitting the mother of the nation, possess every virtue and ability demanded by that station. Even if she lacked them before ascending the throne, she must hold herself to the strictest standards once she becomes empress. She must constantly scrutinize her words and actions, striving to ensure that her every gesture serves as a model for all the women of the realm. This self-awareness seems to have become inseparable from the role itself.

Many believe that to be an empress is to emulate Empress Zhangsun—a paragon of wisdom, whose virtue was celebrated by all. Yet not every woman can become a Zhangsun; not all are destined to be that gentle maid known as Guanyinbi, who wrote the ten volumes of “Rules for Women,” a figure of legendary grace.

Since the moment Yu Daidai learned she would be empress, she too yearned to follow in Zhangsun’s footsteps. The empress—the mother of the nation—holds the highest honor among women, her name written into history. Who does not harbor a touch of vanity? Who does not wish to be praised by future generations? Yet, striving to paint the tiger, one often ends up with a dog.

Yu Daidai was, in the end, only Yu Daidai. Indulged and spoiled, she acted on her whims, and after falling in love with the emperor, how could she hope to become the virtuous Guanyinbi? Guanyinbi could treat the emperor’s other consorts with equanimity, free from jealousy or resentment—a standard Yu Daidai could never dream of reaching. Imitating others, she lost even the memory of her original self.

Tethered to the throne, unable to dismount, she could only sit there with pride, locked in a life-or-death struggle with herself, the emperor, and all the women of the inner palace. The outcome was never in doubt.

Consort Shu fancied herself the cleverest woman in the harem. She believed she had seen through the empress, had the empress’s fate thoroughly in her grasp. Yet today, as she heard the beads of the curtain stir, she set down her teacup with a self-satisfied air, rose to greet her guest with scant courtesy—and then, what did she see?

Their gazes met in midair. The other’s eyes were languid and proud, coldly beautiful and noble, just as Yu Daidai had appeared the very first time Consort Shu had seen her. Back then, Yu Daidai had been the darling of the illustrious Yu family, surrounded by admirers, while Consort Shu herself was merely the daughter of a provincial official—a country girl.

In an instant, that old shame, envy, and self-consciousness swept over her. Her once-glowing face seemed to lose its luster, turning flushed and chapped and awkward. That was so long ago—her father had brought her to call upon the Yu family, hoping to secure a post in the capital. It was on that day, in her naivety, that she first became aware of the gulf between them.

“Country bumpkin”—that was what the young ladies crowding around Yu Daidai had called her in their mockery. A name she would never dare forget.

This was Ganquan Palace, Hall of the Noble Consort, the place where the empress received the ladies of court. The peacock-plumed, gold-inlaid screen behind the throne was carved with soaring phoenixes. The vermilion phoenix chair sat alone atop a dais two steps above the rest, crowned by a curtain of emerald beads. Crimson pillars and silken drapery bound with sashes lined the hall.

Words like “resplendent” and “ornate” failed to capture the grandeur here. The true majesty of the hall lay not in its decor, but in what it represented: the empress’s domain, the seat from which she summoned and judged the women of the court, where decrees were drafted and dispensed.

The Hall of the Noble Consort—a place of endless fascination and nightmares for countless women.

Yet to an ancient demon who had lived for a thousand years and cultivated the Dao, such things held no allure. Famous in the demon realm for its laziness, it was nevertheless born with the rare gift for immortality. It possessed little desire, no obsessions—without obsession, there was no inner demon; without an inner demon, one would not defy heaven’s order; and never having defied heaven, the will of the heavens could only glance at it in vague irritation.

Little demon, will you become a celestial or a devil? Will you enter the Buddha’s way or fall into ruin? You must choose, for if you do not hurry, the heavens themselves will grow impatient.

As far as Qingdai was concerned, the best thing about that phoenix chair was its size—big enough to curl up and take a nap.

Below the dais, only the Noble and Virtuous Consorts curtsied; the rest of the concubines knelt—an array of bright silks and slender waists, a feast for the eyes. The great demon yawned, stretched out on its pillow, and said lazily, “Rise.”

At that moment, a pair of embroidered shoes was kicked off—one landing at Consort Shu’s feet, the other striking a bronze crane lamp and snuffing out the flame.

Qiuyun’s face paled, her pupils contracting. She hurried to say, “Your Majesty, please forgive me. I’ll go fetch you another pair of shoes at once.”

Chunmo stiffened, then quickly chimed in, “Your Majesty must have suffered. Are your feet sore?” As she spoke, she shot a look at Qingdai.

“Mm, all right.”

The reply made little sense, but at least it smoothed over the sudden mishap.

Consort Shu had regained her composure. She bent to pick up the embroidered shoe and handed it to Qiuyun, her face full of concern. “Your Majesty must take care of your health. Choosing the right shoes is so important.”

The Noble Consort let out a cold laugh. “May I ask, Your Majesty, what offense have we sisters committed to deserve such humiliation?”

“You came too early,” Qingdai replied bluntly, eyelids drooping as she drifted back toward sleep.

The Noble Consort’s face stiffened. After a moment’s struggle, she retorted, “We came early out of concern for Your Majesty.” She glanced at the blazing red sun outside, then sneered, “So it seems Your Majesty has kept us waiting as punishment. If arriving early is a sign of respect, who would have guessed it would bring Your Majesty’s anger? If you think this punishment too light, why not issue a decree and have us kneel outside the hall for several hours to appease you? Would that satisfy Your Majesty’s wrath?”

“As you wish,” Qingdai replied, adjusting the stiff pillow beneath her head.

By now, she was already half-dreaming.

Though her words were slurred with sleep, the two consorts standing close heard them clearly.

The Noble Consort’s expression changed at once. Consort Shu narrowed her eyes. The lesser concubines murmured in shock, but none dared raise their voices.

“We obey Your Majesty’s command. We shall kneel outside and see how Your Majesty explains this to the Empress Dowager and His Majesty!” The Noble Consort was notoriously domineering. With the Empress Dowager and the emperor as her backers, she had little reason to show deference to the empress.

“Your Majesty, please say something!” Chunmo, seeing the Noble Consort on the verge of creating a scandal, grew anxious and pinched Qingdai discreetly.

“Yow—!” Qingdai sat up with a start, startling the Noble Consort into whirling around, eyes blazing.

“Your Majesty, you’re finally awake,” Chunmo said with a wry smile. “The Noble Consort is about to kneel outside. Please stop her, or His Majesty might misunderstand and think it was your order.”

“What a cunning wretch! What do you mean by this? Are you saying that obeying Her Majesty’s command is somehow wrong?” the Noble Consort snapped.

“I dare not. I speak only as the situation demands. Everything depends on Your Majesty’s judgment.” Chunmo lowered her gaze and dropped to her knees.

As a lady-in-waiting to the empress, Chunmo was subject only to the empress’s authority. The Noble Consort could not touch her, unless Chunmo openly defied her.

Qingdai felt wretched. All she wanted was a good nap—her only pleasure since her life as a snake had been upended. Yet even sleep had become a luxury.

Did they really think a great demon would suffer such indignity without protest? Did they mistake her for a house pet?

“Disturbing someone’s sleep is immoral!” she declared, her voice ringing with righteous indignation.

Consort Shu was taken aback, then smiled and gently reminded her, “Your Majesty, we were talking about your order for us to kneel.”

Qingdai thought, You humans are sly indeed. Fortunately, I am a demon who has seen much of the world, or I would have been trapped by you. She replied, “My beautiful lady, don’t falsely accuse me. She insisted on kneeling outside—it has nothing to do with me. Offering her my own hall to kneel in is already a great favor. I haven’t even complained about her trampling my flowers, so why is she grumbling at me? It’s spring; if she’s feeling frisky, she should go find a mate. There’s a saying you humans have: three-legged toads are hard to find, but two-legged men are everywhere.”

Qingdai stroked her chin, turned her head with some difficulty, and spoke in an academic tone: “But that saying isn’t quite true. With all my experience, I can tell you, I’ve never seen a three-legged toad. I seriously doubt such a creature even exists, so of course it’s hard to find. Really, it’s nearly impossible.”

She swept her gaze over the gathered women as if to advise them to give up hope.

After this long-winded speech, Qiuyun—just coming in from the back hall with a new pair of shoes—paused in blank confusion.

Chunmo’s jaw dropped, wide enough to swallow a walnut.

Consort Shu’s smile froze on her lips, her eyes dazed—she truly didn’t know what to say next.

The Noble Consort opened and closed her mouth several times, unable to recall what she’d been arguing about.

Most of the lesser concubines were stupefied; the rest managed faint sneers, cold laughter, or expressions of schadenfreude.

“Heh, Your Majesty does love a joke,” Consort Shu said at last, rising to curtsy. “We came with good intentions, but ended up disturbing your dreams. That was our fault. I’ll take my leave now.”

Qingdai was delighted, waving her off. “Go well. No need to see you out.”

With Consort Shu gone, her allies followed suit. The Noble Consort, realizing she had nothing left to say, bit her handkerchief in vexation and left in a huff.

They had come lightly and left in a flurry.

Qingdai chuckled to herself, very pleased, and closed her eyes to resume her sleep.

Qiuyun and Chunmo exchanged rueful glances. They longed to ask what their mistress really intended but couldn’t bear to disturb her rest. One fetched a light blanket; the other sat quietly on guard.

In moments, tranquility returned to the hall, the incense curling in the air—a perfect time for sleep. Yet just as she was about to doze off, the little demon opened her eyes and asked Chunmo in confusion, “You humans are amazing. Can you really find three-legged toads if you have no man? Is that kind of cross-species mating really all right?”

Heaven and earth create yin and yang; surely every species comes in pairs by design. Could a woman and a three-legged toad really fit together?

Hmm, this was worth investigating someday.

Truly, humanity is vast and profound.

On the edge of sleep, the little demon mused thus.

“…,” said Chunmo.