Chapter 3
I believed another person had taken up residence inside Jiahe’s body.
It was not mere suspicion. Before entering the palace, Consort Chao had once tumbled down a flight of stairs. Her temperament changed completely afterward. A quiet, dutiful young lady raised in seclusion suddenly became flamboyant, dazzling, and capable of composing poetry at will.
She constantly declared that she was a person from the future who had transmigrated through time. She claimed to understand heaven and earth and was forever saying strange things or behaving in bizarre ways.
I still remembered how, when she first entered the palace, she was always talking to the Emperor about the equality of all people. She even forbade palace maids and eunuchs from kneeling before her.
I found the idea strange and impractical, though not entirely without reason.
Later, however, she stopped saying it as often. The palace had its rules, and they would not change for any one person.
After waking, Jiahe made none of those treasonous pronouncements. She merely studied her surroundings in silence. Her gaze was wary and vigilant when she looked at others, and she observed palace etiquette with obvious unfamiliarity.
The old Jiahe would cling to me and sweetly call me Mother. She would gather flowers with a carefree, foolish grin and bring them to me, or demand that the Emperor hold her in his arms.
This Jiahe rarely smiled or spoke. With me, she scrupulously observed the rules and always addressed me as Lady Rong.
Lady Shi visited twice. The first time, Jiahe lay in bed and gave her a perfunctory, polite smile. The second time, she pretended to sleep, though her lashes quivered constantly.
I could only laugh and say, “The child had a terrible fright. She still has not recovered.”
Shi Hua loved Jiahe more than anyone. Hearing this, she sent over still more precious medicines, including a rare snow lotus her elder brother had obtained while fighting in the north.
When the Emperor arrived, Jiahe was eating. Refusing her wet nurse’s assistance, she had climbed onto a stool and was quietly spooning sweet eight-treasure custard into her mouth when a servant announced, “His Majesty has arrived!”
I immediately rose and bowed with the others. The Emperor helped me to my feet, then turned to his daughter.
Jiahe appeared momentarily dazed. Only after staring at him for some time did she remember to say, “Imperial Father.”
The old Jiahe would already have bounded into his arms. Believing she was still ill, the Emperor reached out to feel her forehead.
“Are you feeling better, Jia’er? Imperial Father—”
What happened next stunned everyone.
The instant he raised his hand, Jiahe threw both hands over her head. Her tiny body curled in on itself as she trembled violently atop the stool.
“Jia’er, what are you doing?”
The Emperor was bewildered, but judging by my observations over the past several days, this Jiahe was no longer my daughter.
Tears spilled from my eyes, and I sank gracefully to my knees.
“Your Majesty, Jia’er must have been terribly frightened. It is all my fault for failing to notice sooner that she was missing. Had I discovered it earlier, she would never have suffered like this.”
I wept as I spoke. Jiahe glanced at me, understood at once, and hurried down to bow.
“Imperial Father, it was this daughter’s fault. Please do not blame Moth—please do not blame Lady Rong.”
How could the Emperor bear such a sight? He immediately helped both Jiahe and me to our feet, then lifted his daughter and bounced her gently in his arms. Even his eyes reddened.
The little princess had endured so much, yet she could not even bring herself to call me Mother.
Jiahe’s choice of Lady Rong was perfect. She was only six, her voice soft and childish, and illness had lent it an extra frailty. How could anyone fail to pity her?
As expected, the Emperor issued a decree on the spot, promoting me to Consort Rong. He granted us many rewards and tonics in consolation, then spent several nights in succession at Changle Palace, keeping mother and daughter company.