Chapter 6: Empress Dowager

This palace maid was equally as unfamiliar; presumably, she'd stayed the entire time in the palace, and it was only today that she was sent to wait on Lu Pingwan.

Hearing this, Jiang Changbai's expression cooled. The two of them, mother and daughter, in the palace absolutely didn't have no relation; even if at the moment, they were Emperor and Dowager Empress, everyone still knew that the true power was held within Song Juguang's hand. Even more, to say nothing of the fact that Lu Pingwan had always had a gentle character, putting together all the circumstances, Jiang Changbai had a very hard time believing the one-sided statement of this palace maid.

"Let Us pay respects along with the Empress Dowager."

As she spoke, she raised her leg, about to head towards the Cining Palace; that maid hurriedly stepped in front of Jiang Changbai to stop her. "Bixia, if you're to enter, this servant will receive a punishment." The palace maid, when she spoke, was distinctly pitiful, as if in the next moment tears were to begin to fall.

Jiang Chanbai, seeing this appearance, felt even more gloomy. With the wave of her hand to brush aside that palace maid, she extended her other hand to push the door open. Although the Cining Palace's doors were heavy, Jiang Changbai, her heart under worry, unexpectedly expressed a shocking strength. In an instant, not only were the doors pushed open, they even slammed against the wall with a muffled sound.

Without thought, Xun Zhu helped up that palace maid that Jiang Changbai had knocked over, and then hurried after Jiang Changbai. The courtyard was empty, and besides the two of them, there wasn't even a third person. The suspicions in Jiang Changbai's heart grew even deeper, and her steps couldn't help but grow a bit larger. But before she could make it to the ritual hall's doorway, she saw that small wooden door at that side be pushed open, a familiar figure emerging from within.

"Bixia," that person who had walked before Jiang Changbai gave obeisance.

Jiang Changbai's steps stopped, and she asked coldly, "An Lian-gugu, are even you trying to stop me?"

An Lian was the serving girl who had been part of Lu Pingwan's dowry, and by now she was already in her forties. Jiang Changbai had always felt that she was loyal and devoted towards Lu Pingwan, and so she didn't push her aside the way she had pushed aside that palace maid just before.

"Bixia," when An Lian spoke, there was some hesitation, and her gaze, which had fallen onto Jiang Changbai's figure, flashed with a degree of embarrassment, "the Queen Dowager said that she doesn't want to meet you now."

Jiang Changbai, hearing this, was first startled, and then, almost bellowing, said, "Doesn't want to see me? What's the reason she doesn't want to meet me? We are Emperor now, none of you can stop Us."

Having spoken, she circumvented An Lian, heading for the ritual hall, the brush of her sleeves against the air letting out a rustling sound. But Jiang Changbai had only took a few steps when she heard Lu Pingwan's voice come from the ritual hall. "Leave!"

Jiang Changbai stopped in an instant, yet she said, still unwilling to give up, "Niang, it's me, I'm A Bai."

"I know it's you," Lu Pingwan's voice came from the ritual hall once more, "I don't want to see you now."

Jiang Changbai was thoroughly stunned, the rims of her eyes stinging faintly. For a while, it seemed as if the world had lost its lustre, and she simply felt that she herself had fallen into an endless darkness. The scorching, high sun which had originally enclosed around her body had also disappeared, and what took its place was a piercing, winter chill. Since Beijing had been surrounded until now, it was the first time that Jiang Changbai had felt herself to be alone.

The amount of time that passed wasn't clear; a rustling sound dragged her back to reality bit by bit. Jiang Changbai vaguely heard the palace maids behind her unevenly calling out "Guoshi", and then afterwards, a warm source of light came up behind her, raising a hand and pressing down on her shoulder. "Bixia."

It was Song Juguang's voice. The corners of Jiang Changbai's lips stiffened, and she erased it with a smile. By the time she turned around to face Song Juguang, not a trace of a state of loss could be seen. "How is it that Guoshi has come?"

At this moment, the setting sun was in the sky; Jiang Changbai simply felt that the orange light dazzled the eyes. So, she'd unconsciously already stood at the Empress Dowager's doorway for almost a shichen, such that the evening had almost already passed. Song Juguang, standing with her back to the light, made her way towards her, her lapels seeming to even have been dyed golden. It was only that her face vanished gradually in darkness, and it was somewhat unintelligible.

Song Juguang hadn't answered her question; her gaze swept across Jiang Changbai's face, and she said, "How come Bixia is still standing? It's almost night."

Jiang Chngbai had suffered humiliation at all sides today, and her heart couldn't help but have accumulated an unknown amount of grievances. However, when the words came to her mouth, they were pulled back by her rationality, and she only said, "We will leave in a moment."

"That wouldn't be as good as this minister accompanying Bixia back." As she spoke, Song Juguang headed towards the doorway, and extended her hand, having the attitude that, if Jiang Changbai weren't to leave, she wouldn't leave either.

Jiang Changbai suddenly raised her head, yet her gaze collided with the palace maid waiting at the doorway. At this, that palace maid hurriedly lowered her head, and couldn't help but keep her gaze fixed on her own toes.

She sighed silently in her mind, and followed in the direction of Song Juguang's extended hand. As a result, the group of people returned from the Cining Palace to the Yangxin Hall as majestically as when they'd come; the only difference was that there was an extra person in comparison to when they'd come. The setting sun stretched out the shadows on the palace walls, the oranges and vermilions smudging in layer after layer; a cool breeze, rarely found in the summer, dispelled the heat, and the cloth of the sleeves made a rustling sound, linking the advancing procession together.

The two of them, Jiang Changbai and Song Juguang, walked at the forefront, shoulder to shoulder, their gaits hurried. The group behind also tactfully slowed their steps, only Xun Zhu at a slightly closer position. Song Juguang said, "Bixia, the Yangxin Hall still has a good deal of memorials^[1] waiting for you to act on."

Yet Jiang Changbai's complexion was chilly, and she appeared impatient. "Then I'll trouble Guoshi to act on all of them on my behalf." It was just that, although these words didn't have any care within them, when she spoke them, Jiang Changbai's gaze vaguely glanced at Song Juguang's face.

"What sort of words is Bixia speaking? The memorials written to you naturally can only be properly acted upon by yourself." Song Juguang shook her head, and continued, "Besides, this minister doesn't know how."

Jiang Changbai only took it as Song Juguang saying it for the spectacle. "But I heard that during the previous emperor's reign, it was you who read and evaluated the memorials; how is it that, having come to this time of mine, there's only the two characters of 'don't know how'?"

"The previous emperor was the previous emperor; you're you. From what this minister has seen, the ability of Bixia to govern far exceeds the previous emperor's; this minister doesn't dare to overstep, going beyond the sacrificial altar and taking over the kitchen."

On hearing this, Jiang Changbai didn't say anything, but she continued to walk forward, yet Song Juguang continued to leisurely and freely follow behind her. By nature, Song Juguang hadn't had any military elegance, and at this moment, wearing an outfit of plain white, a folding hand held in her hand, unexpectedly she looked like a secluded wild crane who lived deep in the mountains and idled in the clouds.

Song Juguang quickened her steps to Jiang Changbai's side, and moved her head near Jiang Changbai's ear, the two's bodies so close as to be pasted togther, and in a light voice, she said, "It would be better if you taught me."

What had been offered up by the multitude of officials were called memorials, but the majority of them were missives of respect and wishes for good health, superficial and perfunctory; to call them expressions of congratulations would actually be more accurate. Jiang Changbai went over tens of them in succession, feeling they were uninteresting, and then simply placed her cinnabar brush to the side, her entire person sprawling in the chair, and she tilted her head, looking out at the stars outside the window, covered up one after the other by the clouds.

Song Juguang, on sseeing this, set the inkstick down, minding her own business and moving a chair across from Jiang Changbai to sit down. "Could it be that Bixia is tired?"

"A bit," Jiang Changbai's reply was honest, and her gaze passed through the swaying candle flames to sweep across Song Juguang, and then she said, "it would be better for Guoshi go over all of them for me; from left to right, they're all simply some meaningless well wishes."

Song Juguang nodded without comment, and stood up, walking to where the memorials were piled up. Then, in the next moment, with a sweep of her sleeves, she swept them all away with an incessant clattering sound. When Jiang Changbai's spirit returned, only three memorial letters remained on the desk. "Since they're all memorials wishing for good health, then this minister replying to them for Bixia is alright. It's just that these three memorials still need to be replied to by Bixia personally."

Jiang Chanbai's eyes flashed with a few threads of surprise, but she didn't ask anymore, and merely raised her hand to open one of them. At the moment, the time was already late, and the candle which had already been lit on the desk by now had already become somewhat dusky. Just then, when Song Juguang had entered, she had stopped Xun Zhu outside, and so at this moment, there were only the two of them in the hall.

Jiang Changbai, in this respect, had never bothered about trifles; with some discomfort, she blinked, and then shortly after wanted to look for a pair of scissors to trim the candlewick. It was just that she had only turned her head when she saw Song Juguang was carrying a newly lit candlelamp, standing by her side, about to replace the candle of just before.

Song Juguang had naturally noticed Jiang Chanbai's line of sight, but as she was still putting the new candle in place, she also brought the old lamp before Jiang Changbai's face. Jiang Changbai only felt that the steady flow of heat was rising from the lamp and heating her, and her entire person felt somewhat broiled.

The candle flame still flickered; Song Juguang's also leaned forward. So, the distance between the two once more shortened, their breaths faintly striking against that tenaciously burning candlewick, the push causing the flame to sway even more exaggeratedly.

Jiang Chanbai could only see Song Juguang's smile towards her, separated by the candle flame, and assumed that she wanted her to blow out the candle. However, she'd only blown a single breath when Song Juguang also intimately blew a breath out at the same time. The two converged, and that small flame finally wasn't able to stand up anymore,a nd in a flash, all traces of it disappeared. Jiang Changbai felt her face was inexplicably somewhat scalded, and thinking it over, only felt that it had been burnt by the flames. But Song Juguang seemed to have also realised something, and, taking advantage of this moment of effort, spread the other two memorials open.

The three memorials were all spread out on the desk, and the one closest to Jiang Changbai was enscribed with that person who had, in the broad daylight of the throne ascension ceremony, had turned a good deal of heads.

The Minister of Revenue, Lin Yingqing, wrote a countless amount of characters, flowing and voluminous, but the implied meaning within them could be summed up in only two characters—no money.

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Translator's notes:

[1]: Despite the name, in this case "memorials" (奏折, zou zhe) weren't for the deceased, but rather memorials to the throne, a type of official communication from individuals, usually ministers and officials, to the emperor.