Chapter 6

Lord Zhang and I were poisoned in the same place at nearly the same time.

The culprit’s intent was obvious.

Unfortunately, they had chosen the wrong victims.

Zhang Han had studied bitterly for more than a decade, placed first in the imperial examinations, then swallowed his pride as a live-in son-in-law while scheming tirelessly for advancement.

They had greatly underestimated how far he would go to rise.

They had equally underestimated my determination to keep living, however wretchedly.

Nothing could make people like us throw away our lives—not even a poison that stole reason.

When we encountered each other at the rockery entrance, one glance told us everything.

He pulled back the hand already reaching for me and tried to knock himself unconscious against a stone.

Unable to judge the force and afraid of actually killing himself, he kept testing it with little bumps.

I drew the gold pin from my hair and cut my palm, using pain to hold the poison at bay.

Then I dragged him to a lotus pond nearby.

Before kicking him into the water, I warned him repeatedly that once he was in, he must use any means necessary to send Prince Chen to the rockery.

If they wanted to see me disgraced, I would turn their plan to my advantage.

His Highness had always missed that cave in the hills.

I would broaden his understanding of caves.

I knew he would come.

At the banquet, his eyes had already told me how badly he wanted to pounce on me.

Huddled alone at the grotto entrance, cutting my palm again and again to remain conscious, I worried only that Zhang Han might fail to deliver the message.

He did not disappoint me.

Prince Chen arrived just as my reason was about to break.

One look at him, and I knew I would overturn the entire game.

His obsession with me would only deepen.

So I surrendered to the poison and gave him an experience I could never have offered while sober.

What choice did I have? His favor was my only stake in the world.

Until I found another, strengthening his attachment to me had to come first.

After that night, the whole capital whispered that Prince Chen kept a bewitching concubine who lured him into every sort of absurdity.

The words were ugly. I did not care.

Whether people who could give me nothing called me good or wicked meant nothing.

What mattered was that Prince Chen’s affection burned fiercer than before.

No matter how busy he became, he could not pass a day without seeing me.

Once, an imperial banquet was to keep him in the palace all night. That afternoon, he crawled beneath the covers during my nap and tormented me awake.

Whenever he was home, whether he read, practiced martial arts, or met with officials, he insisted that I remain beside him.

When he had leisure, he drew me into his arms and taught me to read and write himself.

Looking at me, he said, filled him with peace.

I did not understand why, but I was pleased to be of service.

I did not, however, abandon my efforts to befriend the princess consort.

I did not want her to kill me, and I lacked the power to kill her.

Though I knew my presence infuriated her, whenever His Highness left and I had time, I appeared before her.

My purpose was simple.

I wanted her to understand that I did not intend to compete with her.

I asked only for one place in the residence where I might live safely for many years.

At first, she met me with polite insincerity.

Then the summer heat came. Pregnancy made her vomit everything she ate, and at last I found an opening.

I prepared a bowl of mung bean soup and offered it to her.

She looked exhausted. Jingzhe pointedly remarked that every summer, a pot of mung bean soup simmered all day in the servants’ quarters for anyone to drink.

Her meaning was clear: do not insult the princess consort with something so common. My attempt at flattery was embarrassingly poor.

But mine was a Suzhou specialty.

I began with cooked glutinous rice and mung beans, then added red and green candied shreds, winter-melon sugar, and dates before pouring in chilled mint water.

It was light and refreshing, restored the appetite, and was especially suitable for pregnancy.

After much urging—and after watching me taste it myself—the princess consort, who had barely kept down food or water for days, reluctantly agreed to try.

Perhaps she only wanted to send me away faster.

Yet one taste became another, until she finished the entire bowl.

I offered to massage the proper pressure points.

This time she did not refuse. Beneath my hands, she slept peacefully for the whole afternoon.

I had said before that I possessed vast experience as a child bride.

That experience involved more than avoiding beatings. Twice I had cared for my former mother-in-law through pregnancy until she bore two daughters.

Then I raised one girl to six and the other to four with my own hands.

I was useful to the princess consort now, and I would remain useful later.

After sleeping deeply, she reclined against her cushions, bright eyes fixed on me.

“I have always thought the rank of concubine beneath you,” she said. “The prince can be so thoughtless. Why has he never considered raising your position?”

Because he had left that favor for you to grant, in exchange for peace in his household.

That day, I rose from a seventh-rank concubine to a fourth-rank Beauty.

My advancement nearly matched Lord Zhang’s, for all his labor and scheming.

But I worked harder.

From the moment I opened my eyes each morning, I circled either the prince or his consort, serving the pair with such devotion that my feet scarcely touched the ground.

All I wanted was a lasting place in Prince Chen’s residence.

Whether master or mistress, as long as one of them needed me, I would have a path to survival.

I thought I performed well. They seemed satisfied too.

Just when I believed I had finally won a peaceful life, terrible news came from the frontier.

The Western Yi had broken a ten-year nonaggression pact and launched a violent surprise attack, killing three generals in a single night.

To steady the army, His Majesty resolved to send an imperial prince to command the defense.

The eldest prince had died young, the second was disabled, and the fifth and sixth were still children.

Only the third prince, Prince Chen, and the fourth, Prince Huai, could be chosen.

One of Prince Chen’s strategists mentioned that the emperor had initially intended to send Prince Huai.

The late empress’s legitimate son, Prince Huai was less talented and younger than Prince Chen, but he had always been the Empress Dowager’s darling.

The old woman constantly urged His Majesty to give him opportunities to prove himself.

The moment she heard that he might be sent to war, however, she stormed into court with her dragon-headed cane and declared that any harm to Prince Huai would be the death of her.

So Prince Chen, who had believed the opportunity lost, immediately volunteered to share his father’s burdens and defend the realm.

But this opportunity would be won with his life.

The smallest misstep could erase everything I had worked so long to build.