Date Night
Everything is terribly ceremonial with us. Rigid rituals and formal etiquette define palace life. Every move, from casual family dinners with Haoyu to our monthly full moon bedding, is precisely arranged step by step leaving no room for spontaneity. I can’t recall him or I ever acting on a whim until now.
Tonight is different. It’s an adventure.
My white mare, Fēi yún, Flying Cloud, is beautiful and powerful. She was born in my parent’s stable. I am her only rider. We leave the palace together. Her hooves hit the ground with a rhythmic thud. The sound echoes through me. As she gallops, I feel the vibrations in her muscles beneath me. The wind’s force against my face pulls my hair free from its bun. It’s exhilarating and freeing. I feel as if I am running myself, connected to her graceful movements.
Jingyuan is revealing an unknown part of his personality that is unexpected and intriguing to me. He has let his hair down figuratively and literally. Moonlight glints on his long, silky black hair, which flows behind him, as dark as his black stallion. He appears relaxed, wearing his hair styled like an unmarried man of his age, with only the front portion secured in a smaller topknot using a simple wooden hairpin. It makes him look younger, almost un-emperor-like. Dare I say, he even emanates a dashingly rebellious aura.
We have been married for five years, and during that time, we have fulfilled our duties as emperor and empress with unwavering dedication, but there’s never been romance or any sense of courtship between us. We have never experienced the simple pleasure of going on an outing as lovers. But this festival marks a special occasion.
It’s our first official date as a couple.
The emperor, forsaking his extravagant golden dragon garment, now wears Jinghua’s proper but unpretentious olive green robe. The shimmering crosswise diamond patterns, woven into the thick winter fabric with silver thread, accentuates his tanned complexion. His gold brocade fragrance pouch, which I made and which he always wears, with its dragon embroidery, is eye-catching, swinging gently from his Gedai leather belt. The crisp white collar of his under shirt highlight the contours of his muscular neck, drawing attention to his distinct Adam’s apple.
His presence commands attention, emanating a palpable aura of masculinity. The sight of him is captivating, his chiseled features and confident stride and stance drawing gazes from all directions. Even with the loud festival noises, the whispers and sighs reach my ears as women, powerless to his charisma, openly swoon. They stare at Jingyuan wantonly, with lustful gazes like stray dogs gawking at a meaty bone. I was his wife moments ago, but now in my place stands the vexed and offended green-eyed monster of jealousy, shooting hostile glares at the other women.
“Are you feeling ok, Yueli?” Jingyuan asks seeing me press my lips into a thin tense line. “Mhmm. I’m fine.” I reply shaking off these jealousies. Green has never been a good color on me. I don’t enjoy feeling this pointless emotion that will only ruin our precious stolen time. I must work on controlling my rude facial expressions before he mistakenly thinks I’m making them at him.
Pretending to brush away stray hairs, I look away from him, trying to regain my composure. There was a time, my white hair brought me instant recognition. I had to wear heavy wigs or use a temporary herbal hair color to hide my distinct tresses when I wandered around incognito. But it’s become fashionable in the capital for women to cover their heads with rice powder copying my style. While I think this trend is silly, it’s also pleasing, since imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
“Which one does my little wife want?” He asks with a mischievous grin, raising an eyebrow as he waves two colorful festive masks in front of my face.
The masks, adorned with bold patterns and playful hues, are the ones children love to wear this time of the year. The idea of wearing animal masks proves to be an ingenious solution, allowing us to blend into the crowds without catching unwanted attention.
One mask is a whimsical panda, while the other captures the charm of a mischievous rabbit. “Definitely the panda for me.” I reach out to claim it and tell him. “The rabbit mask is more suitable for you, Tuzi.” Jingyuan gives me a subtle frown. He doesn’t appreciate being compared to Haoyu’s amorous male rabbit. His frown vanishes behind the rabbit mask when I place it over his face.
Hidden behind masks, we aren’t the emperor and the empress, but Jingyuan and Yueli. Two people who can step out into the lively streets filled with the energy of a vibrant festival like everyone else. The excitement and festiveness washes over me and makes me feel like a different version of myself. In fact, this is like what we could have been had we not been born into the imperial family.
He doesn’t show affection in public. I’ve never seen him show any until now with me as he takes my hand. His hand, large and inviting, beckons me closer. It envelops mine, its touch radiating a soothing heat that seeps into my skin. As our fingers gently intertwine, a soft warmth blankets us, creating a delicate electric sensation that tingles through my fingertips. It’s not just a simple hand meeting, but a profound connection that engulfs me.
It may sound immature, but the moment his hand touches me; It awakens desire in me. A kaleidoscope of emotions swirling in my chest steals my breath. My marriage, which transcends mere appearances, has profoundly impacted me, painting my previously gray world with vibrant color.A forgotten passion is rekindling, blazing like a hidden fire, and pulling me to him despite my reservations.
I press into him as Jingyuan keeps me close to his side as we navigate through the bustling labyrinth of festival-goers. The sounds of laughter and chatter surround us. The mouthwatering scent of candy and fried treats lingers in the air, teasing our nostrils with their sweet and savory notes. The crowd is growing larger, but I feel a sense of security and calm, knowing that Jingyuan is here, effortlessly guiding me. He uses the broadness of his physique to part a clear path for me.
He pauses and leans closer. “Yueli, there are so many women with white hair wanting to look like you.” He bends to my ear close enough so his rabbit mask caresses my ear as he speaks louder because the surrounding noise, “No one is as beautiful as you.”
“Stop trying to seduce me. You’ve already impregnated me.” I reply brushing off his flirtatious compliment. I notice a lantern vendor, and my eyes are immediately drawn to a splendid white fox lantern. “Jingyuan, I want a closer look at the fox lantern! There’s only one left. If I love it, you must buy it for me.”
The lantern is up high on display with the others. Its intricate design and ethereal glow captivates me instantly. I lean in, standing on my tiptoes so to see it better when I feel myself floating up in the air moving closer to the lantern. Jingyuan has his hands around my waist, lifting me effortlessly, as if I weighed next to nothing. There isn’t a hint of exertion in his straight arms as he holds me high, patiently waiting for me to decide. Jingyuan’s display of power is thrilling to me, but the lamp vendor, whose wife is quite taken with Jingyuan, is not pleased.
The man’s face contorts with a grumpy sneer, his voice filled with annoyance as he exclaims, “Why didn’t you just ask to see the lantern?” The sharpness of his tone is cutting. He blurts. “I could have taken it down for you. Your boy friend is obviously showing off his muscles for female attention.” The lamp seller’s eyes shoot daggers, a silent display of disdain at Jingyuan when he silently pays for the lamp.
The jovial atmosphere, the animal masks, the lantern, and our secret outing makes me giddy. I’m more joyful and grateful for this small present than I would be for pearls from the Dōnghǎi Eastern Sea. Jingyuan watches me, hopping around with glee, then points to his cheek with his index finger showing he deserves a kiss in return. I giggle and poke his side where I know he’s ticklish, causing him to cringe away from me. I don’t need to see his face under the mask to know when he wags his finger at me like a scolding parent; He’s grimacing at me.
“Lets go, Jingyuan! There’s more to see!” I shout. With the fox lantern hanging over my shoulder, we continue our leisurely stroll through the bustling festival, our hands intertwined, the energy of the event enveloping us in its magic.
While we drift past the different tables, a tempting aroma of a sweet treat fills the air, leading us closer to a candy seller. He is making animal-shaped candy painted with malt sugar. The golden amber color catches my eyes and an old memory surfaces.
It had been the last lunar new year before I was kidnapped. Jingyuan, Jinghua, and I were together in the same courtyard for the dragon dance and celebrations. I recall my feet had grown tired from walking around. Jingyuan was twelve. He was carrying me around on his back, piggyback style, as he often did when we came across sweet hawthorn berries covered in malt sugar.
How enchanting those red glossy candies had been. They looked like treasures finer than rubies to my child’s gaze. My mouth had watered at the sight of the glazed hawthorns on a bamboo skewer, piled one on top of another in a tantalizing tower. We didn’t have money, but Jinghua had traded his jade ornament for the candy then got punished by the empress for trading his jade ornament.
Maybe Jingyuan remembers too, because he tells the candy seller, “I’ll take everything you have here.”
“Aya? Everything here? Mister, do you understand how much that will cost..Are you sure…” Jingyuan sets the coins on the table before the man finishes speaking.
The candy vendor’s jaw slackens and his mouth hangs open, showing his buck teeth. He grins broadly, grabbing the money with unnatural speed, as if he’s afraid Jingyuan might change his mind. Eager to close the deal, he excitedly gives us the candy sticks and sets a sign on his table stating his stall is closed.
I ask, “What are you going to do with all that candy? Take it back to the princes and princesses?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Yueli,” he replies and turns towards a group of children lingering nearby. Longing like honey drips from their glassy eyes, fixated on the mouthwatering collection of candies in Jingyuan’s hands. Some lick their lips, their saliva-covered mouths glistening with anticipation.
Jingyuan waves his hands, extending an invitation and encouraging them. “Kuài lái, Come quick.” He says.
Uncertainty holds them at bay, keeping them back from their hearts’ desire. Eyes flicker swiftly back and forth. The children exchange unsure glances. They are initially hesitant and distrustful of us, as they should be.
Jingyuan, for his age, has a fatherly presence about him. “Come, children, I’m not a dangerous person.” He assures them, and one brave child pushed forward by the other’s steps up. There’s always one that is braver than the others. He is taller but barely comes to Jingyuan’s waist.
Jingyuan gives the brave child a malt candy in the shape of a coy fish, a symbol of good luck. He affectionately messes up the child’s hair and tells him, “You’re good and brave. You have courage in your eyes. Maybe one day, you’ll become an imperial guard.” The boy happily licks the candy and looks up at Jingyuan with pure admiration.
Then, we are instantly surrounded by a wave of youngsters—a joyful throng of excited children, their hands clasping the cherished malt candies. Innocent laughter that tickles my ears fills the air as the children revel in their newfound delights, their radiant smiles mirroring the joy in my heart.
This time I lift just the lower part of my mask to expose my lips and press a tender kiss on the side of his neck, since his face is covered.
“Emperor’s grace is immeasurable. That was lovely, you know?” I whisper in his ear and he replies, “That was nothing. Just wait and see. Now I’m going to truly court and impress you. You might fall deeper in love with me.”
He pulls me by the hand as we navigate through the crowd, searching for a game to play in the energetic carnival atmosphere. We pass by various stalls offering enticing challenges and colorful prizes until we stumble upon a game in which participants test their aim by throwing arrows into a vase.
The grand prize is a pair of charming carved wooden mandarin ducks. These ducks symbolize love and are traditionally given to newlyweds since they mate for life. However, I don’t want Jingyuan to feel obligated to do something that he’s not good at.
Jinghua has always been the athletically talented twin. On the other hand, Jingyuan was more interested in knowledge. He spent all of his time reading, studying, and pursuing academic activities. Nonetheless, he seems determined to give this game a try. I can’t help but express my concern, cautioning him about the deceptive nature of these games.
I suggest. “Jingyuan, have you noticed that the vase has a narrow opening, and the arrow is considerably broader than average arrows? If we go down further, we can find another stall with the same game but with a bigger vase. You know, these games may seem easy, but they are often rigged to ensure we end up losing.”
“You have little faith in me,” he confidently tells me. “I am skilled at driving big things into small spaces.”
Just like that.
I’m consumed by the green-eyed monster of jealousy that resurfaces from the depths of my possessive soul. What did Jingyuan just say to me? I’m glad I’m wearing a mask to hide the outraged expression on my face. Did he, the man who has deflowered eighty-three women, just brag about fitting large things in tight compact places?
I can’t recall the last time I felt this offended and provoked. I’m suddenly blinded by my resentment. The sight of his obliviousness leaves me speechless, silent as my emotional unrest engulfs me. It’s as if a cyclops is stirring within me, filling the air with a thick, suffocating tension.
Surely, he’s not this dense? Clearly, he can’t be this obtuse? Much to my chagrin, he certainly is, because he says. “Prepare to be dumbfounded by my expertise. I’m a professional. I can do this with my eyes closed.”
Even through the mask, I can see his eyes gleaming with determination. Without breaking his gaze from me, he effortlessly flicks his wrist, the arrow slicing through the air with a faint whoosh. The arrow hitting its target makes a soft sound, as the small vase delicately rings when the arrow lands perfectly inside it, leaving me speechless. I can’t dispute he is an expert, as he states.
“Aya! We have a winner here!”
“How did he do that?”
“We are in the presence of a real man!”
Gasps of awe escape the onlookers’ lips, their faces lighting up with wonder. Applause erupts, a symphony of Ooooos and Ahhhhs, resonating through the air. Jingyuan is immediately surrounded by admirers, their hands slapping his back in congratulatory gestures. Men approach him with their hands extended, eager to shake his hand and offer words of praise.
He’s basking in the moment. Meanwhile, my mind races, performing swift mental calculations:
Jingyuan has eighty-three wives. I have been with him for five years as his empress. He spent a minimum of five out of a seven-day week with his other wives, which means he had two hundred and sixty sexual encounters in one year. During our marriage, he has had one thousand three hundred trysts, not counting the times he visited two women on the same day.
Our date night is definitely over, and I’m heading to my parents’ place because I might punch Jingyuan if I spend any more time with him.
Eunuch Bo~
“Bobo?” The emperor calls from his bed, his voice tense and strained.
I quickly rush to his side, concern etched across my face. Kneeling respectfully, I bow my head and respond, “Your servant Bobo is here. Does the emperor need something?” I can’t help but notice something is consuming him. Something is amiss.
The emperor’s behavior has been far from his usual composed self tonight.
Just a moment ago, he turned away Lady of Reverent Gentleness, who had come to serve him in his bedchamber. Instead, he requested solitude, opting to immerse himself in reading in bed. However, the solace of literature has failed to ease his troubled mind. For the past hour, he has been tossing and turning restlessly, emitting heavy sighs.
The emperor and empress left early for the festival. Normally, the emperor stays out late when he switches places with fourth prince. But this time, he came back earlier than expected, and alone.
It’s also strange because the empress went to her family’s home instead of returning to the palace. She sent a messenger to tell us she’ll be at the Bai manor until the new school opens. She didn’t mention any of this to the emperor, even though they were together most of the night.
The emperor says, “This man I know has been getting along wonderfully with his wife. She’s even pregnant with their first child, but suddenly she left him. Why would she do that?”
Choosing my words wisely is essential. “Emperor, perhaps this lady’s happiness is blinding her, and she requires a quiet moment of reflection.”
Lost in thought, his thoughtful eyes drift past me, over my shoulder. He replies, “It could be true, but why would she choose to return to her family’s house and distance herself from her husband, given their seemingly strong relationship?’
“Emperor, she may have gone home to tell her parents—soon-to-be grandparents—more about her pregnancy and show them her baby bump,” I replied, fluffing the emperor’s pillows.
The emperor appears pleased with my response. He settles back down, puts his arms behind his head, and yawns widely. He speaks, but his soft voice drifts away as if he were about to sleep.
He mumbles faintly, “That is absolutely possible. The baby is indeed a blessed event for everyone.”
The emperor surprised me by complimenting me. He said, “Bobo, you can be insightful occasionally. I think you might be on to something, and my friend is worrying for no reason.”
I arrange the luxurious blankets around the emperor, who has closed his eyes. I casually inform him that the empress wants her bedroom redecorated. I suggest it would be nice if the emperor gave his opinion, since he will be visiting her more often than once a month.
He is half asleep. He mumbles, “Yueli mentioned nothing about that. She usually avoids unnecessary spending, so I’m pleased to see her spoiling herself, but hmm, I wonder why?”
I reiterate Gugu Min’s information from the Empress’s palace, preempting my own cognitive processes. I blurt out without thinking. “Gugu Min said the remodel was because the Empress has been thinking about the times the emperor used her bed with other women and plagued with these obscene memories that won’t leave her mind.”
He opens his eyes wide and stares at my face. He sits up fast, like someone getting out of a coffin. He scoffs and defensively says, “I only did it twice. The empress told me to, and I hoped it would make her jealous or maybe even aroused… so she would join. I was running out of ideas, so I acted out in desperation.”
I chuckle openly, unable to hide my amusement, realizing once in a blue moon the emperor lacks common sense. I explain, “Haha! Even Bobo knows better! The empress wouldn’t appreciate that happening in her bed, or would she want to join a three-some? The emperor shouldn’t blindly obey every command from the empress. Would the emperor jump off a cliff if the empress told you to?”
The emperor’s face turns a deep shade of crimson, his eyes bulging out of his head like two fiery orbs. His wiry mustache twitches twice in agitation. With a pointed finger, he unleashes a thunderous roar, his voice echoing through the room like a booming cannon.
“Fàngsì! How dare you! You’ve grown too daring. Too bold! You’ve forgotten your place, freely saying things you shouldn’t, and your insolence has no bounds! Go to the hall of punishment instantly!” He may yell at me, but I understand his anger is self-directed.