Now that the realm was at peace, the court and nation alike seemed renewed and full of promise. The Empress Dowager, who had spent half her life fretting over the Fu clan’s ancestral legacy, now felt at last that she could lay down her burdens, leave the palace, and devote herself to the Buddha in peace.
Yet if she were to name a regret, there was one: the emperor still kept hold of the prince, and who knew when he might let him go.
In the past, everyone had been terrified the emperor might hold a beauty selection. At every palace banquet, the noble ladies would dress themselves in drab, aging styles, dreading the chance of catching the emperor’s eye.
But now, some members of the imperial clan had come to ask: shouldn’t it be time to choose consorts for the emperor?
The Empress Dowager thought: what’s the use?
Throughout history, there had been many emperors with male favorites, but that never stopped them from keeping a harem full of wives and concubines. An emperor devoted to just one spouse—let alone a man—was almost unheard of.
Yet she believed that this emperor was capable of it.
She even suspected that he loved so deeply he might spend his life guarding Prince Huan, content to remain a celibate emperor!
Terrifying—absolutely terrifying!
And as for the prince, wasn’t he now the most desirable catch in the empire?
So many coveted him.
Kind-hearted, exquisitely handsome—just look at him today at the banquet, radiant with spirit and charm. Whether it was high ministers, seasoned nobles, or newly risen officials, who didn’t admire him?
No one dared propose this directly to the emperor. All they could do was speak to her.
If the emperor wouldn’t take a wife, then let the prince marry!
The prince was of age, after all!
She deeply suspected these old foxes never intended to offer brides to the emperor at all.
Their true target had always been Prince Huan.
And really, with his character and looks, where could one find his equal in all the world?
The emperor—heroic, brilliant, yet dark of temperament—was utterly bewitched by him!
How could ordinary men and women not be?
Indeed, the court had grown restless of late. With the empire pacified and honors bestowed, many new nobles had risen in the capital. The old lords and princes felt overshadowed, but they still had one advantage: lofty birth. They were the natural candidates for marriage alliances with the imperial clan, and now they sought to bind themselves to Prince Huan.
Concubine Fang had sent her most beautiful princess to serve as a court lady—no doubt hoping to secure shelter for her family.
Everyone wanted to use the Empress Dowager to sound out the emperor’s heart.
She herself had thought to go with the flow. Yet she knew full well: this matter did not rest with her, nor with the prince—it rested with the emperor.
That was why she had summoned the least likely candidate for princess-consort—Princess Jinhua—to meet the prince today, just to test the emperor’s mind.
If the emperor relented, ah! Such boundless love and magnanimity—she’d light incense and pray for him forever!
If not, well, nothing lost—they could wait.
But now, watching the emperor’s sedan, she thought: enough. There was no need for further testing.
The emperor’s intentions were all too clear.
He, following behind so silently, was more terrifying than if he’d come charging into her palace with sword drawn!
Had her little trial angered him, and would it bring harm to the prince?
The Empress Dowager’s expression changed dramatically.
Sun Gongzheng quickly tried to soothe her. “Your Majesty, don’t lose your composure.”
No one knew whether it was the cold or something else, but Sun Gongzheng’s voice trembled slightly as she spoke, glancing back at the emperor’s sedan chair. In our realm, black is the imperial color. By day, that black lacquered sedan looked stately, but at night, when it was all black and gold in the dark, it was truly fearsome.
It looked like the King of Hell himself was out on procession.
The north wind howled through the palace lanes, and snow flew in great swirls along the ground. The ladies of the Ci’en Palace stood at the gate with plum-blossom lanterns, waiting for the Empress Dowager’s return. They saw her golden-topped sedan gliding in the front, and behind it, the emperor’s black sedan followed close, like dark clouds swallowing the moon.
The emperor’s golden-lacquered roof rose a full foot higher than the phoenix carriage’s. The two lines of palace attendants holding plum lanterns hurried to make way, watching as that black sedan, shrouded in snow and wind, swept past the vermilion gates like a storm.
All bowed and paid their respects, welcoming both sedan chairs into Ci’en Palace.
When the Empress Dowager alighted, she nearly stumbled.
She truly was old now. Once, she had feared Fu Huang too—but with love and hate mingled in her heart, she’d had the courage to stand her ground against him. But now that she had forgiven all his past deeds, with no hatred left in her heart, she found she no longer had that old strength.
The emperor, in the prime of life, master of all under heaven, only made her feel more aged and powerless.
The only thing keeping her upright now was her concern for the prince.
The imperial sedan halted beneath the eaves, and out stepped Fu Huang.
Clad in black with golden dragon robes, he was the very image of majesty and might.
Sun Gongzheng thought silently: now he really looks like the King of Hell.
The emperor’s aura was stronger than ever, nothing like the sickly, petulant figure of old. His arrogance and supremacy made all who saw him shrink in awe.
Sun hurriedly bowed. “Your servant greets Your Majesty.”
“I have matters to discuss with the Empress Dowager. Wait outside,” Fu Huang said.
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Sun lowered her head.
The Empress Dowager’s drunken haze had cleared. She turned and went inside.
Fu Huang followed her in.
Palace maids and guards came rushing forward, but Sun stopped them. All stood waiting beneath the eaves. The north wind drove snow into the walkway. A few braver, sword-bearing women started toward the hall, but Sun quietly scolded, “Stand down.”
Inside, the candlelight flickered. The Empress Dowager leaned on one hand, seated upon the lotus couch.
“What do you want to tell me?” she asked.
Fu Huang sat across from her at the brazier table. “I think the Empress Dowager can already guess.”
The Empress Dowager froze.
“I wasn’t really trying to arrange a marriage for the prince,” she said quickly. “If Your Majesty dislikes the idea, no one will mention it again.”
Fu Huang was silent for a time. Then he said, “I know the Empress Dowager cares for him sincerely. And he truly honors and respects you. That is why I’ve come to say these things to you today.”
The Empress Dowager didn’t want to hear more. She interrupted, “Your Majesty, the Buddha teaches: Love, founded upon compassion, grants joy; pity removes suffering. Love is not to possess for oneself—that is true great love.”
But Fu Huang looked at her and said, “He and I are already husband and wife.”
The Empress Dowager: “…”
“!!”
Fu Huang continued, “You need not concern yourself with how it came about. What matters is: my mind is set. Things are as they are; there’s no turning back.”
He looked her straight in the eye. “I have a wife. He has a husband. We have offered sacrifice to Heaven and our ancestors. If the Empress Dowager can accept this, we will serve and honor you as ever. If not—you may leave the palace and live apart.”
The Empress Dowager sat dumbfounded, unable to take it all in at once.
He finished speaking and rose to his feet without delay.
He knew well the Empress Dowager couldn’t accept this all at once—but he had no wish to stand there listening to lectures about propriety and the natural order. His mind was set on safeguarding Fu Ye’s future accession to the throne, and he had no intention of disclosing Fu Ye’s true parentage to her… nor did he need to. He had come here to inform, not to seek her understanding.
In the past, though he had governed the realm, the Empress Dowager’s position carried weight. She was cherished by the nobility, revered by the world. His own reputation had been poor; his claim to the throne, dubious. Back then, the Empress Dowager hadn’t been entirely without the means to oppose him. The balance between them had been maintained by a tacit understanding—a fragile truce both sides had been willing to uphold for the time being.
But now? His name resounded across the land. With Fu Ye’s support, his throne was unshakable. The Empress Dowager’s influence was no more than that of an ant beneath his feet. This truth—he knew—would become clear to her tonight.
He emerged from the palace, the court ladies parting to clear a path, silently watching as he passed among them.
Snowflakes drifted down upon him, but Fu Huang felt no chill—only an indescribable sense of relief and release.
These past ten years had been a storm of rises and falls, life and death by a hair’s breadth, betrayal from kin and comrade alike. Even after ascending the throne, he’d lived willfully, but in truth he’d been like a wounded dragon, chained and bleeding, forced to dance madly as the world looked on—waiting for him to collapse and die.
And deep down, he had always known it.
But now, at last, those chains lay shattered. He soared above the imperial court, free at last, a true emperor beyond all contest, unopposed by any living soul.
