Page 53 of Forest of a Thousand Lanterns

The ordeal of her first month having passed, Xifeng found herself in a better situation among Empress Lihua’s ladies-in-waiting. The other women—whose names she did not know, as they all insisted she call them Madam—were too old to harbor resentment toward her. They taught her to perform their duties: arranging flowers, ensuring the smooth running of the household, and stitching emblems on Her Majesty’s ceremonial robes. This last task occupied most of their time, with the Festival of the Summer Moon days away.

“Your embroidery is beautiful,” one of the ladies told her as they sat working on the balcony. “That rabbit looks real enough to jump out of the fabric.”

Xifeng glanced up, taking care to keep her cheek concealed. It had healed well, thanks to Bohai’s salve, but she felt certain everyone pitied her and talked about it when she wasn’t there. “I’ve had practice.” She smoothed the ocean-blue festival skirt on which she was stitchinglucky rabbits in silver thread. “It was difficult to satisfy my aunt. Her needlework is superb.”

“It must be, if yours is of such quality,” the woman said, and Xifeng returned her smile.

“The Empress has a different outfit for all seven days,” a rosy-cheeked lady told Xifeng. “Three for the prayer days, one for the moon-viewing party, and three for the carnival days, which are my favorite. It’s a tradition Emperor Jun bestows upon the city. The markets expand, and people come to buy and sell, eat, and drink. The Imperial Army even gives a demonstration.”

Xifeng stopped sewing. “The Imperial Army? Do all of the soldiers attend?”

“Of course. His Majesty wants a large spectacle. There’s music and parades, and the Emperor and Empress award prizes to the best performers.”

The ladies continued discussing the carnival, but Xifeng didn’t hear a word. She picked at a snagged thread, her heart lifting as she thought of Wei. They hadn’t seen each other for eight weeks, and she was ashamed she had to work to remember details: the way he laced his fingers through hers, his teasing laughter, and the slow, warm smile he saved just for her.

“We’re to accompany the Empress to the gates of the main palace,” said a woman with steel-gray hair. “Wait until you see the dragon dance.”

“We won’t be there long if Madam Hong has anything to say about it,” grumbled the rosy-cheeked lady. Xifeng watched her companions hush her and giggle like schoolgirls, amused that even these senior ladies hated Madam Hong. “I can’t wait to see what Lady Sun will wear. She’ll probably strap her son to her back as her costume, to remind the Emperor.”

“And squeal like a pig about how she deserves the Empress’s apartments,” another woman added, grinning. “Like that tart could ever grace these walls.”

Xifeng’s needle slipped, and she winced as it stabbed her thumb.

She hadn’t seen the concubine in weeks, but still the unspeakable hunger haunted her. She pushed it deep down and focused instead on her anger.The Fool, the Fool, the Fool.Lady Sun was the enemy, and no other; she would stop at nothing to destroy Xifeng. Had she succeeded in having Xifeng whipped to death, her path to the throne would now hold one fewer obstacle. If the game was kill or be killed, she would strike again and Xifeng’s hesitation would cost her.

But unlike the concubine, Xifeng would not shed blood again if she could help it. The creature might whisper as many evil thoughts as it liked, but she would hold fast to thetengaruqueen’s words. Violence wasn’t the only means by which to deal with Lady Sun.

“The way she speaks to Her Majesty,” one woman growled, yanking her needle as though she were pulling the concubine’s hair. “If I were the Emperor, I wouldn’t let her treat my wife that way. But men are all the same: they think not with their brains but with...”

“Watch your mouth,” the gray-haired lady scolded her.

“It’s true. He’s the only reason she can do and say whatever she wants.”

Xifeng kept her eyes down, listening intently. It seemed Emperor Jun would forgive almost anything where his lover was concerned. If she wanted to discredit Lady Sun, it would have to be a public spectacle... an embarrassment. Everyone at court despised the woman, even her own informants. Xifeng imagined them pointing and whispering as Lady Sun stood red faced and humiliated, and the Emperor livid...

“Hush, all of you,” the rosy woman hissed. “Look who’s here.”

Lady Meng approached them, clutching needlework in her thin hands. “I thought I might join you,” she said awkwardly.

Xifeng noticed the young concubine still spoke with the messy, slurring accent of the village commoners, which Guma had beaten furiously out of Xifeng. It grated her ear after months of hearing the cultured, educated tones of the court ladies. Once again, she found herself feeling sorry for the girl she had envied, with whom she would have gladly traded places once.

The girl sat down with a shy, diffident air. She was younger than Lady Sun, with a lovelier face, but one had only to observe the way she carried herself to know the difference in their positions at court. Her health, too, did not seem as robust as Lady Sun’s; the girl had a slight, delicate frame and narrow hips and shoulders like the Empress. Whereas Lady Sun was a tiger waiting to pounce, Lady Meng was a doe among predators.

“We’re glad to have you, Lady Meng,” the rosy lady said. “I was about to tell the fable of the moon tree. Xifeng doesn’t know the story behind the Moon Festival.”

The concubine’s vague eyes turned to Xifeng and sharpened. “Oh, yes,” she said slowly, as though struggling to search for words. “You’re the maid the Crown Prince brought to court.”

“I’m one of Her Majesty’s attendants, my lady,” Xifeng said after a pause, wondering whether Emperor Jun regretted taking such an odd, awkward girl for his concubine, despite her beauty. Lady Meng continued staring fixedly at her as the rosy woman began her story.

“Once there was a rabbit who was attacked by a dog. It lay near death with its leg broken. A boy found it and brought it home to his mother, and together they nursed it back to health and shared what food they had with it, though they were poor. The rabbit soon healed, and when the boy set it free again in the field, it dropped nine seedsinto his lap. He gave them to his mother to plant in her garden, and that night, a beautiful tree sprouted from the earth, its branches growing nine white fruits that glowed like the moon.”

Xifeng put down her needle to listen and noticed Lady Meng doing the same.

“The boy and his mother were overjoyed, thinking the fruit would be delicious. But when they opened them, they found not sweet nectar, but gold, silver, and jewels, more than enough to make them wealthy for the rest of their lives. Their neighbor saw their good fortune and decided to earn it for himself. So he went into the fields and broke the leg of the first rabbit he found.”

“Imbecile,” said the steel-haired woman, and they all laughed.

“This rabbit gave him nine seeds, too, after he nursed it back to health. But the tree that grew for him was much taller and bore only one enormous fruit. When he cut it open, an old man jumped out and told him to follow. Together, they climbed the tree all day, and when night fell at last, he saw that the old man had taken him to the moon. There, they found another tree in which jewels grew like fruit. ‘If you can cut this tree down,’ the old man said, giving him an ax, ‘everything on it will be yours.’ But as it turned out, the tree was enchanted and couldn’t be cut down, and the greedy man spent eternity in vain. So you see, the lesson of the fable is to...”

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