The Moon in the Palace (The Empress of Bright Moon Duology) (5 page)

Soon the Selects heard of the birthday as well. So excited, they spent day and night discussing what gifts they would give to the Emperor. The discussion intensified as the date of the Emperor’s birthday approached. One night, a Select mentioned consulting her family; the next night, another declared her family would send her gold and silver to present to the Emperor. It seemed there was no limit to what they would give.

Some Selects worked on their embroidery fervently. They fought over the colorful threads and tried to hide their designs as they labored, afraid the others would steal their inspirations. I often awoke in the midnight hours and saw shadows crouching by the hemp oil lamp, the threads flying between their fingers.

Sitting in front of my bronze mirror, I stared at my reflection. This was perhaps my only chance to get noticed, and I had to choose a good present, an unforgettable present.

What should I give to the Emperor?

There were no exotics he had not seen, no finery he had not touched, no prizes he had not won. He could have had anything he wanted, and he would not care what treasure he received or who gave it to him. And if I was right about the court protocol, the only people who would see the presents would be the court recorders, who might neglect or misreport the items, and the Emperor would never know, or care, who gave him what.

Perhaps I should have considered him not as the Emperor, who owned the kingdom’s extravagance, but simply a man.

What would a man want?

Many things: big or small, expensive or cheap. But there was nothing I could afford.

I thought of Sun Tzu. What would the master advise me to do if he were me? “All warfare is based on deception,” he had said. That did not help. I needed only a suggestion for a gift. Gift giving was not warfare, and his strategies of attacking were not relevant to my need. But wait…did he not say that prior to attack, one must hold out bait to entice the enemy?

Bait…

I had an idea.

A week before the Emperor’s birthday, the eunuchs came to collect the gifts. There were handkerchiefs lined with silver threads, belts encrusted with jade, fragrance sachets embroidered with flowers and love ducks, and vests with images of dragons and phoenixes. The Xu Girl had the most precious present—a pair of rhinoceros horns with gold tips. She wrapped them in a piece of red silk she had embroidered and handed her package to the eunuchs with care. I slipped mine into the bottom of the pile.

Then we waited.

“What did you give to the Emperor?” I asked Jewel in the pavilion that afternoon.

She leaned over the table to paint. “Myself.”

I stared at her. “You gave him a portrait.”

How clever. She was a beautiful lady, and I could imagine how attractively she had painted herself.

She nodded. “What present did you give him?”

“I can’t paint, and I do not have anything valuable.” But wealth and treasure would not be what the Emperor sought, if he sought anything among us.

“You did give him something, didn’t you?”

“Yes.” I cleared my throat and recited:

“I have no beginning nor an end,

I have no mother nor a friend.

Seldom do I give you warning or fear,

but when you think of me, you shall shed a tear.

“So fair and just I’m known,

Like the wind and air that you cannot own,

On and on I shall continue,

When your heart hardens to a stone.”

Jewel arched her painted eyebrows. “What is that?”

“A riddle.”

She paused for a moment. “You gave the Emperor a riddle for his birthday?”

It was a good choice, I saw it in her eyes, for she looked surprised and then almost rueful, as though regretting why she had not thought of it. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

“I like it. An ingenious thought. But I have never heard of the verses. Where did you find the riddle?”

“I wrote it.”

She was quiet again. “I certainly did not expect a girl of your age would have such an inspiration—a riddle for the Emperor!—and express it so poetically. But I wonder. Are you not worried you would offend him? It is rather bold, isn’t it?”

It was risky. The Emperor owned everything and beyond, and what I said in the riddle could certainly be read as a challenge. “I took my chances.”

“So what is the answer?”

I told her.

“My sweet friend,” she said. “I hope this will earn you a summons.”

If she was distressed by the possibility that I would be summoned instead of her, I did not see it on her face.

The Emperor’s birthday came, and the celebration started. There were musician troupes, parades of floats, and festivals on the dragon boats, but none of us in the Yeting Court had the honor of attending. The Emperor did not summon the Xu Girl, Jewel, or me. Jewel was disappointed. “I should have known,” she said. “The Emperor is surrounded by beauties. My picture will not attract him.”

I shared her distress. It seemed my efforts were no better than drawings in the water.

• • •

Weeks passed. One day, a eunuch led me to the entrance of the Yeting Court, where two ministers—one old, one young—wearing black hats stood. They verified I was the sender of the riddle and then explained the reason for the interview. When they recorded the gifts, they said, some of the court scribes were intrigued by my riddle. They looked through the classics and consulted many books and songs, but they were unable to decipher it. The ministers wanted to know the answer.

“It’s time. The answer is time,” I said. It was a good sign. The ministers had noticed me. Perhaps the Emperor would notice me too.

“So where did you find the riddle?” the old minister asked.

When I explained I wrote it, he looked shocked. “Where did you get the idea to compose a riddle like that?”

I had to be careful. Anything I said could be my undoing. I replied, “I have the immense honor of serving the Emperor in this palace. Every morning, I rise from bed, checking my appearance in the bronze mirror. I look different from how I was at home. I thought of how wondrous time was and its mighty power to transform what we are and what we see. That is where I got my inspiration.”

The two ministers exchanged looks. The old one frowned while the young one’s face remained as blank as a swept courtyard. Then they left.

I wrung my hands. Were they going to report me to the Emperor? Had I offended him?

• • •

That night, the Selects were chattering about the Emperor again.

“I certainly hope a summons will come to us very soon,” one of them said. “He’s bound to like our gifts, isn’t he? Those gifts are expensive and unique.”

The others agreed. Certainly the Emperor would love the vests with the satin stitches, one said. Or rhinoceros horns, another added. Then they leaned over to the Xu Girl and murmured something.

“Yes, what a shame,” the Xu Girl said. Her voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. “When you’re poor and inept, what else can you give as a gift other than a stupid riddle?”

She was mocking me. She must have heard me explaining the riddle. I let her be. Criticism would not hurt me.

“I have so many peasants at home who act just the same, and they cannot afford to wear a pair of decent shoes,” she continued. “Speaking of them, I don’t like peasants looking at my shoes. They always think about stealing them. But I daresay it’s her mother’s fault. She forgot to teach her. But perhaps she is ignorant as well. You know the saying goes, ‘Like mother, like daughter’?”

I rose from my pallet and walked to her so she had to look at my face. It was fine if she mocked me, but not my mother. “You may have a thousand pairs of shoes, but it does not make you a thousand times better than the others. If I were you, I would keep my eyes on my shoes and keep my mouth closed.”

She growled. “Who needs your advice? You’re no better than a peasant’s daughter.”

Peasants were the lowest social class, and it was the worst insult she could give me. “I would like to tell you my mother is a cousin of an empress and my father was a governor—”

“Peasant!” she spat at me.

I raised my hand to slap her. She had gone too far.

Something smacked my head. I staggered backward and stepped on something soft. A pillow? No. Someone’s leg. “I fell, and before I could get up, fists, spits, taunts, and scorn rained down on me. Someone yanked my hair, another girl pounded on my back, and yet another kicked my arms and legs.

“What’s going on there?” someone shouted from outside.

They stopped.

“Coward, that’s what you are,” the Xu Girl hissed.

I did not have strength to speak. My head was hurting. I lay down on my pallet and curled up. I was angry, yet there was nothing I could do. For the rest of the night, I stared at the swirling lattices of the window. They seemed to whirl and spin out of control.

• • •

The morning light shot into my eyes. I rose stiffly, my body sore. In front of me stood the head eunuch, the Xu Girl, and the other Selects. They were smirking.

My heart tightened. I ignored my headache and bowed. “
Zao an
.” Good morning.

The Xu Girl pointed at me. “Here she is. She slapped me!”

I straightened and turned to the eunuch. “You shouldn’t listen to her. She is lying.”

The eunuch scowled, waving his hand. “The guards heard your voice. The girls here confirmed what happened.”

“But they are all lying.”

“There’s no point in denying it. You, the daughter of the Wu family, attacked your fellow Select and disturbed the court peace. You must be punished. Guards, take her to the Ice Palace.”

I felt chilled. The Ice Palace. The last place where a palace lady would want to go. “No…please don’t… I can’t… I… What about the Emperor? He will not allow it!”

“There is no need to bother the One Above All.” He waved at the female guards behind him. “Take her now.”

Like vultures, they dove at me. I drew back to the corner of the bedchamber, but their hands came anyway. I threw them off. “Get away from me. I will walk myself.”

I hurried out of the bedchamber, passing the girls quickly so they would not have the satisfaction of seeing my tears. It was my own fault. I had underestimated them and let this happen.

“Wait,” a voice called out when we turned on the pebble path outside of the compound where I stayed. The air was cold, and the sun spread its golden rays through the thin branches and reflected on the bare garden rock beside me. But I did not feel the warmth. “Where are you going?”

Jewel.

“To the Ice Palace,” the eunuch replied.

“What?” Jewel’s fan paused in midair. Behind her, some girls who were pounding their laundry with flat wooden clubs at the bank of the canal stood up, craning their necks in my direction. A group of older Selects, who were on the way to fetch water, came around the pavilion to watch me.

“What happened, Mei?” Jewel asked.

“I…” I stared at the treetops in the Forbidden Park, unable to bring myself to recount last night’s story. The wind whipped my loosened hair around my face. I gathered it in front of my chest and held it there, but still the wind plucked at the strands and sent them flying. I wished it could blow me away.

“Was there a fight?” Jewel said, glancing at the Selects on my left, who had followed me. “My respected head eunuch, perhaps you may not wish to rush into decisions. She is only thirteen. So young! She does not deserve to be punished in the Ice Palace. Perhaps you may wish to ask more questions?”

“Stay out of this, Jewel. I do not like people questioning my judgment.” He looked down his nose at us.

Jewel sighed. “Yes, my respected head eunuch, I shall not question you, lest you throw me into the Ice Palace too. I do wish, and kindly beseech, that you will give this incident some thought and give her another chance.” She pulled me beside her, and before I knew what she wished me to do, she bowed. Deeply. Three times. “If there is anything I can do to make you change your mind…” she said.

I was grateful to her. She was the only woman who dared to help me.

“I have made up my mind.” The eunuch waved at the guards. “Take this disobedient girl now. Let’s go.”

They held my arms and pushed me. All Jewel’s pleadings were wasted.

“Halt!” An elderly man scurried along the trail toward us. I recognized him—the old minister who had asked me about my riddle. “My lady,” he said courteously to me when he approached. “I have been searching for you. The servants told me to find you here. I’m to deliver you a message.” He unfurled the scroll, which was colored in imperial yellow. An edict.

“Is this from the Emperor?” Jewel sounded surprised. She tucked her fan into her girdle.

“Yes,” he replied.

So the Emperor had heard of the fight. I was doomed. Despair and regret expanded inside my chest.

The minister cleared his throat and began to read. It sounded like something I had heard before, but his words pelted me like heavy raindrops that wet my head but could not penetrate it. When he stopped, gasps rose around me, and Jewel clutched my hand, her eyes as large as lanterns.

“Mei, I cannot believe it!” she cried out.

I stared at the minister. “What…what? Did you…did you say the Emperor summoned me?”

The minister gave me a firm nod. “Yes, Select. After our interview with you, the court ministers had a heated discussion about the riddle. The Emperor happened to pass by and overheard it. He was intrigued. He would like to honor you by meeting you.”

It was true. The Emperor had summoned me, but I continued to stare at the minister, not knowing what to say.

“Can you believe it?” Jewel tapped my arm. She looked delighted too, her cherry-red lips widening to a lovely curve. “For seven years, not one of the ladies in the Yeting Court has had the honor to see the One Above All’s face. You sent him a riddle, and now he wants to see you.”

“I know, I know. I am fortunate.” My heart sang. Finally, I would meet the Emperor! I would tell him what happened to my family, and Mother would have a comfortable life again…

“Yes, indeed you are.” Jewel smiled. “Now, I think you should get busy. We shall not waste time.”