What Could Have Been
Jingyuan~
I had been arrogant. When I heard Ye Hua had blinded Bai Qian during their love trial, I recall thinking to myself, what a damn fool he had been. What a juvenile mistake he made. He had failed her most heinously, and I couldn’t fathom how he could let such a tragic event unfold. In that moment, I believed that had I been in his place, that would never happen to me and her, for I would be prudent and cautious.
I was convinced regaining my immortal memories had given me an advantage, a false sense of confidence, as I considered I already knew all the pitfalls to avoid. I arrogantly believed that I wouldn’t make the same mistakes my brother did, and I thought as long as I was careful following this trial’s current path that seemed too simple, all would end as I hoped. However, destiny has a way of playing its hand, and it wouldn’t be a love trial without such a twist.
When I woke up the next morning, I found someone in bed with me who I thought was young Bai Qian. There were signs of her lost chastity on my bedding and my skin. It didn’t hit me right away how serious the situation was until I saw a stranger lying beside me. This girl looked completely different from Seventeen the night before. It was then I realized I had made a big mistake. The girl was a distraction, a test for me which I failed.
I had doubted Yueli’s identity as the true Bai Qian, but in my heart, there was no uncertainty. I was fixated on someone who resembled the one I lost and someone I once had. The one who loved me slipped away from me. I failed a major test in this trial because of my arrogance, vanity, and greed.
When Bobo ran into my bedchamber before I coughed, our usual signal that I’m awake, he didn’t need to say anything. I didn’t need to see the pile of broken ceramic, Yueli’s message or be told she had removed and burned her name tag, exercising her empress’s right not to serve me in the future. I recognized something much more terrible had happened, and I knew in my heart I had ruined everything between us because Bai Qian, as it was for Seventeen when Second Prince Li Jing broke her heart and betrayed her with Xuan Nu.
She never forgave him because she keeps love and hate very distinct.
Little Min, with pure hatred in her eyes, revealed to me Yueli had stood outside in the cold waiting for me most of the night. The empress, though tired, had woken up for breakfast with Haoyu when Noble Consort Shao sent a message. Min Qian Ju and her unborn child had been killed during a burglary when Shao Qing Yuan wasn’t home. Upon hearing Yueli had collapsed and fought a fever, the doctors said might kill her and our unborn children if she couldn’t overcome it.
In her delirious state, she cried out for her immortal children, A-li, A-Chang, Ying’er, and Yingpei constantly, leading me to believe she was closer to death than recovery. I was certain she was dying as I sat by her bedside for days, weeping and offering my apologies. I desperately asked for her to come back to me. I vowed to dedicate my life to atoning for my error. I told her that her forgiveness was unimportant, all I wanted was her return and on the fifth day, she opened her eyes and asked why it was so dark.
This calamity. Fate had turned Yueli into SuSu again. Her and Ye Hua’s story’s ending is known to me.
She abandoned him and their infant son.
=========
Yueli~
My sight has been gone for a few months. Although it shouldn’t, pregnancy while blind feels strangely similar to something I’ve experienced before. The pain is there, as it should be, yet the missing freshness makes it seem like an old wound.
Only my family has visited my palace because they know the truth. The others, including courtiers, officials, and acquaintances, have stayed away by the emperor’s order, spreading a false narrative that I have been afflicted with a contagious but treatable form of coughing disease.
Aunt empress dowager and Consort Chu during my absence have taken over handling harem matters. Surprisingly, however, not all the harem women have abandoned me. I think they realized how fair I had been to them as the mistress of the inner palace. Some of them, displaying unexpected loyalty. Each day, they gather at my front gate and bow as they did during morning gatherings
The children, especially Haoyu who’s living in the empress dowager’s palace, write me letters daily, filled with words of affection, telling me how much they miss me. The other wives, perhaps out of a sense of duty or perhaps out of genuine concern, send various foods and gifts as gestures of goodwill. However, their offerings are promptly discarded by the emperor’s command. His actions show a lack of trust in his other wives, believing they could hurt me.
I have asked the emperor to allow me to return to my maternal home until I give birth. I yearn for the comfort of familiar surroundings, the support of my family, and the freedom to move about without restrictions. Yet, the emperor remains steadfast in his refusal to grant my request. The emperor has implemented what he calls a “protective order” around my palace. Nevertheless, this so-called protection feels more like a prison. The walls that surround me serve as a constant reminder of my captivity, as if I am nothing more than Haoyu’s long tails, a broken bird in a gilded cage.
The emperor is concerned that if the other harem women were to discover that I have lost my sight, their families would demand to depose me instantly. He believes I’ll get better. The emperor thinks by bidding his time and ignoring the inevitable, this will somehow prevent it from happening. I understand his concerns, which I secretly wish would come into fruition. I’m fatigued with harem life.
He’s here again. I don’t understand why he bothers.
The emperor knows that I am awake, but he pretends he doesn’t. I can sense the emperor sitting nearby while pretending to sleep until my heavy pregnant body grows tight, stiff and I need to flip over on my other side. When I shift around, I feel his hands reaching out, trying to help me get comfortable. However, I recoil from his touch and push his hands away.
“The emperor must be busy. Surely the assembly is taking place now.” I say softly, my voice barely audible, but it sounds loud in the total silence of the hushed palace.
Pushing myself up from the softness of the comforter, I feel its warmth against my skin. I carefully position myself away from the emperor, my movements stiff and mechanical, as if I were a marionette being controlled by invisible strings. As I adjust myself in the bed’s corner, I cover myself up to my neck with the blanket, even though it’s growing warm because I don’t know where he’s looking.
The emperor’s voice is tired and defeated. “Yueli, it’s nighttime and I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Ignoring my body language, he adjusts the covers around me and holds a teacup to my lips, which I push away shaking my head even though my mouth is parched. Then we fall into the silence that has become us.
The emperor has always been a quiet man of a few words. In the past, I, like a bird, chattered more to entertain and make him laugh, but now I have little to say and even less that I want to hear.
As much as I try to close out the inner palace, news always reaches my ears. Just recently, I learned that Noble Consort Shao has given birth to yet another daughter. It seems she is disappointed with this outcome and is already seeking a fertility prescription, hoping to become pregnant again, but this time with a prince.
But that is not the only news that has been circulating.
A few days ago, I overheard about lady Wan…no concubine Wan was now carrying the emperor’s child after serving him that night. Later, I learned that concubine Wan had suffered a miscarriage. I heard her crying at my gate for hours wanting to meet with me.
Concubine Wan’s return the next day was met with disapproval from the empress dowager, who had become aware of her recent behavior that was in my aunt’s eyes distressing to me. As a result, the empress dowager decided to confine concubine Wan to her residence until further notice. It is truly a pity that concubine Wan failed to comprehend the significance of the freedom I had bestowed upon her. Such opportunities are exceedingly rare, ones that very few of us will ever experience. Now, trapped within the confines of her residence, she will spend her days waiting for the emperor’s elusive visits, which may never come to pass. Time will become her sole companion, offering little solace in her desolate existence.
Concubine Wan believes other palace women killed her child. But she doesn’t know it was actually the empress dowager aunt or the emperor who ordered the doctor to give her an abortive tonic. They probably tricked her by saying it was prenatal treatment. Maybe it’s better for the child not to be born, as it would be treated poorly among the imperial children. The child would constantly remind the emperor of his weakness and what he now considers as his betrayal to me.
Perhaps it was done for my sake, to protect my feelings or to save me face. Or maybe it was a feeble attempt to erase the memories of that fateful night. Not that it signifies anything. None of these issues carry any importance, but what does matter is the emperor is more blind than I am. He holds onto the hope. Things between us could somehow return to how it was before because the imperial doctors have told him it’s a slight possibility for me to regain my sight over time. After I give birth, I’ll be able to take medicines and get the treatments I couldn’t during pregnancy.
I break the uncomfortable silence and say. “The emperor should consider letting the court know of my illness. Deposing and removing me from power for the stability of the nation would be the best option.”
“That will not happen. Ever.” He replies and clears his throat.
I hear him shift. The bed creaking under his weight as he sits on the corner of my bed. I pull my folded knees into my chest as much as possible, which isn’t much when his fingertips caress the side of my taut stomach over the blanket. My lips tremble, and I fight the urge to shove him away when he strokes my cheek. Gestures that used to be warm and tender now feel empty, meaningless.
“Yueli, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I let you down.” His faint voice is full of regret. I hear his misery and the old me would have wavered. My heart would have been touched by such sentiment, but now I perceive his pain as nothing more but fleeting, a whim, a passing fancy. In time, he’ll forget about me and when he doesn’t feel such pity for the petalless flower, I’ve become. He’ll return to being the bumble bee pollinating his many other flowers in bloom.
He apologizes for the one hundredth time for fulfilling his role to extend his branch in the imperial harem. He says sorry for being a man; I don’t blame him, but I blame myself. I regret ever considering another romantic relationship after my last one failed. If anything, I should thank him for this much needed dose of reality and for saving me from what could have been. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t pregnant, so my relationship with the emperor could return to being superficial like before.
My life’s second-biggest regret is getting romantically involved with him.
I tell him, “The emperor has nothing to be sorry for. If anything, it’s my fault for putting the imperial fetuses at risk and making the emperor worry. The emperor is overthinking things.”
The emperor wants to know what he can do to make things better. He’s questioning what he ought to do, and I wonder why I’m this numb? When I resolutely tell him to go back to the one he chose over me that night, it doesn’t hurt as much as it should. This lack of feelings makes me question if I truly loved the emperor as I had believed. I know he will wonder the same when he hears what I’m about to say. I speak clearly and confidently, with no trace of hesitation in my voice.
“The emperor should not ignore his newest youngest concubine, Wan, especially after she’s just suffered a miscarriage of an imperial fetus. The emperor shouldn’t be sitting in the dark with me. Rather, a benevolent man would go to her, hold her hand, let her fall asleep in your arms, and offer her condolences in this time of immense grief and physical pain. In a few weeks, after she’s recovered, she can resume serving you, and I’m sure the heavens will bless her with another pregnancy.”
My words hang heavy in the air. I can feel the tension in the room as the emperor processes the weight of my statement. “I’m.. tired again. You should go.” I lie to him, my voice barely above a whisper, feigning exhaustion. I create a barrier between us and avoid further confrontation. Since he is still sitting on my bed, I lie down closest to the corner away from him and pull the blankets up to my chin.
More silence, but I hear the faint sound of his jaw clenching. He doesn’t leave right away. Only after I hear him go and his footsteps become distant, then fading, a shuddered breath I had been holding back escapes my lips. My hand instinctively rubs the damp cloth around my eyes, and I recede back into my dark world, trying to recall the last. The last day, I could see.
Min Qian Ju and I had lunch. The little sweet chestnut cakes we ate had been yellow like the fine pollen that falls from pine trees in the fall. The yellow and pink-colored dress was what she wore reminded me of a primrose. She told me she thought Qing Yuan was having an affair or had a mistress. She had been clutching her long creamy pearls, saying he had been moody, and she found an old handkerchief with a faded flower in his study, along with some pictures of a woman he had drawn, which she had not seen before. Because he came home early and was furious to find her going through his things, she said she couldn’t get a good look.
“You’re being suspicious over nothing,” I told her. “Qing Yuan doesn’t keep lovers. The handkerchief was old, maybe belonging to his late mother. Seeing you pregnant might trigger emotions he hasn’t dealt with. Perhaps he’s missing his mother.”
It was snowing heavily, so I asked Min Qian Ju to stay the night. If she had, she would be alive today with a newborn. Instead, she is cold in the ground. I regret not insisting that she stay. I should have insisted harder.
“Empress tea.” Little Min helps me sit and holds the cup to my lips. I recognize this tea. It’s fresh and light on the tongue. Refreshing. Mrs. Ma sent it from Qingshui City as she does every year. “Grand Princess sent your favorite foods, as usual. Empress barely ate today. You should force yourself to eat more even when you’re not hungry. The little princes in your stomach need to eat to grow big and healthy.”
I nod but reach out and catch her hands with mine. “Little Min.” My lips twitch. She is loyal. She barely sleeps anymore, and when she does, it’s on the ground, leaning against my bed. “I’m sorry that you have to work so much harder now, but meeting you is one of the greatest joys in my life. I’ll understand if you’d like to find another to serve, but if you’ll stay with me, we need a chaise brought in so you can sleep beside me closer than on the cold ground.”
Her voice is shaky and genuine as I hear her weeping. That’s the thing. I have lost my vision, but I see clearly than before. “Meeting and serving the empress is little Min’s greatest honor and life’s purpose. My beautiful empress will live one thousand years, and Little Min will serve you until my death.” Her tears wet the back of my hand when she presses her forehead to it and weeps.
“I feel fortunate that we found each other,” I say to her. Then I ask, “Is it warm outside? Can we sit there?” I rub my enormous stomach, which is making it difficult for me to breathe because the babies are pressing against my diaphragm and lungs.
“Yes, empress.” She replies. “Take my arm and go slowly.”
Little Min leads me outside and helps me settle into a comfortable rocking chair in the tranquil courtyard. The gentle breeze brushes against my skin, carrying the sweet scent of newly blooming magnolia flowers that fills the air. It’s a refreshing change after being cooped up inside during the long winter months. She covers my lap with a soft, lightweight blanket, ensuring my comfort. She assures me she will fetch something delicious for me to eat. Today, my mother prepared a heartwarming pine nut congee, a soothing and nourishing dish that always brings back fond childhood memories.
I try to remember what it was like before I lost my sight. The vibrant colors of the world, the beauty of a sunset, the vastness of the sky – all memories that I cling to dearly. Tonight, as I sit in darkness, I can’t help but wonder what the sky looks like above me. Are the stars shining brightly? Is the moon casting a gentle glow?
I long for the warmth of the sun on my face, wishing it were daytime so I could feel its comforting rays. Lost in my thoughts, I should have heard the soft footsteps approaching, even with the chorus of crickets in the background. But it’s only when he whispers near my ear that I realize someone is here.
“How damn sick and contagious is your plague that Jingyuan has forbidden me from coming here? Your most despised cousin had to climb the rooftop and sneak in like a…”. Jinghua’s voice suddenly trails off, and I can sense the tension in the air. I strain to hear his next words as he is holding his breath, which comes back with a shuddered inhale of disbelief. I feel the warmth of his nearness as he bends, his fingertips lightly tracing the fabric blindfold as if it were a delicate infant.
“A-li, what the hell has happened? What is going on? This is not a coughing disease.. ” He whispers and swallows hard.
I stumble with my clumsy pregnant body to get out of my chair, struggling to maintain balance because of the added weight, changes in my center of gravity, and blindness. As I attempt to stand, the chair wobbles precariously beneath me, threatening to topple over. Just before disaster strikes, he reaches out and steadies both the chair and me with a swift and sure movement.
“What are you doing here at this hour? You shouldn’t be here, Jinghua. Go before anyone notices.” I mutter.
Another’s lighter footstep, one I recognize as Little Min, hurrying towards us, interrupts our conversation with an urgent tone in her voice. She gasps for breath and blurts out the shocking news that leaves him stunned. “My poor empress is blind.”
She reveals my humiliation. “It happened because she stood outside for hours in the bitter cold snow, waiting for the emperor, who didn’t come as he had promised. Instead, he was too busy indulging himself with his newest concubine.”
Shame washes over me like a suffocating blanket, making it hard to breathe. I hiss, gasping for air, my chest heaving with the weight of my emotions, and every sound amplifies in my ears. “Little Min, be quiet!” I snap, my voice trembling with disgrace. “Not another word from you,” I warn her.
I turn abruptly, my heart pounding, as I plead in earnest. “Jinghua, you must leave immediately,” I implore, my hands waving wildly in the air until I feel him trembling as I push him away.
I can feel the cold sweat on my forehead, my palms damp with fear. “Please,” I beg, my voice barely a whisper, “you know that no men are allowed in the harem after dark. Go now, before things get twisted and misunderstood.”
Jinghua’s voice breaks the way it does when he is furious or crying. “I’ll go, but tell me, A-li, what can I do for you?”
Blindly, I fumble with clumsy seeking hands, desperately reaching out into the air, my heart pounding nervously. Both of my hands stretch out until I feel his strong, reassuring grip as he takes them and holds them tenderly between his own.
“It can’t be rushed,” I whisper, my voice barely audible, “or he’ll become suspicious. Try to convince the emperor to grant me just one day of freedom outside of the palace. Just one precious day where I can walk where there aren’t any suffocating walls surrounding me.”