Extra Chapter 1: Asking You About the Magnolia Blossoms, You Say They Have Already Faded. (2)

In the spring of my third year in the Eastern Palace, An Baolin passed away. We clung to one another and wept bitterly. Apart from ordering a grand funeral, His Highness the Crown Prince showed no other expression on his face.

At that moment, I thought to myself, if I were to die, perhaps the Crown Prince wouldn’t even furrow his brow.

Because my mother fell ill, I returned to the Lu family to care for her. On the day the Crown Princess accompanied Her Majesty the Empress to Wuxing Mountain, I was unable to see her off.

Not long before, she had asked me to embroider a few sachets. I thought that once I finished them, they would return from Wuxing Mountain.

But I waited in the Eastern Palace and waited, only to receive the news that the Crown Princess had fallen from a cliff and died.

Sister Cheng wept until she fainted. I thought I was the most sorrowful, yet in the end, I was the one tending to her.

The royal family gave the Crown Princess the most solemn and lavish funeral, yet the Crown Prince’s face never smiled again. After her coffin was laid to rest in the imperial mausoleum, he journeyed to the western border and never returned.

Sister Cheng and I held the titles of consorts in the Eastern Palace, living like invisible shadows within the imperial city.

Her Majesty the Empress was gravely ill most of the time and had no energy to concern herself with us. Her beloved son was gone, and her favored daughter-in-law had died—she aged considerably all at once.

Sometimes when I returned home, my father would look at me with eyes full of guilt and kept his distance, while I found I had little to say to him. Once, I had loved to cling to him, coquettish and playful.

After the downfall of the Noble Consort’s maternal clan, the Nangong family, the court was dominated by the Cao and Lu families. My father finally realized his long-cherished dream of restoring the Lu family’s prestige.

He said he could die without regrets, except for his remorse toward me and my mother.

I listened without a flicker of emotion and returned to the Eastern Palace.

At some point, I began to consider the Eastern Palace my home. Though my husband never drew close to me, I still had the Crown Princess and Sister Cheng. Now, only Sister Cheng remained.

After the Crown Prince returned from the western border, I had met him but twice, always following behind Sister Cheng.

He treated us with polite courtesy, never harsh, never caring—like distant cousins from afar.

I knew the Crown Prince was scheming, but I dared not ask. Sister Cheng could have, but she showed no interest in him.

Her heart was entirely elsewhere.

After assuming the role of Regent Crown Prince, he brought back a woman who looked exactly like the late Crown Princess Xu. Sister Cheng told me she was the second young lady of the Marquis Wu Jing’s household.

The Crown Prince treated her like a precious pearl, as if afraid she might fly away from his hands or melt away if held too close.

I had never seen him cherish any other woman so dearly. I felt a twinge of jealousy, but since her face was that of the Crown Princess, my heart found some balance.

After the Crown Prince ascended the throne, he bestowed upon me the title of Worthy Consort and ordered Sister Cheng and me to oversee the inner palace.

My mother told me I must live up to the meaning of “worthy,” to be virtuous and gentle among the palace women, especially with the young lady of the Pei family.

Even if she didn’t say it, I understood clearly.

The young lady of the Pei family was titled Lady Jinghong, ranking above Sister Cheng and me. Her attendants were the same women who had once served Crown Princess Xu in the Eastern Palace.

I could no longer restrain myself and asked Sister Cheng whether Lady Jinghong was the former Crown Princess Xu.

Upon hearing this, tears streamed down Sister Cheng’s face in an instant. I was frightened and quickly said, “Dear sister, I won’t ask anymore—please don’t cry.”

In truth, I already had my answer; only a few doubts lingered.

At the beginning of spring, Prince Huai and Grand Princess Yongqing rebelled. The Duke of Cheng also raised troops and failed to return. The situation was dire, and I had not seen His Majesty for over a month.

Lady Jinghong said all I needed to do was manage the inner palace; affairs of the court were in the hands of His Majesty and my father, and I need not worry.

I smiled and played her a new melody on the qin, unaware that it would be the last time I ever played for her.

I transplanted all the magnolia trees from the Eastern Palace to the Rouyi Hall. Mother advised me to act cautiously and avoid gossip so as not to incur His Majesty’s displeasure.

I thought to myself, such a trivial matter—His Majesty would never mind. Aside from the affection a man bestows upon a woman, he would scarcely withhold anything from me.

Because of my passion for music, on a birthday one year, the Crown Prince gifted me a peerless qin, said to have been found in a prosperous capital of Da Xiang, acquired with great effort.

I treasured that qin as a precious jewel and often played it for Crown Princess Xu.

On another occasion, I accidentally shattered a rare exquisite jade wine cup while His Highness was present. He said nothing then, but two days later, he ordered a complete set of Lantian jade wine vessels to be delivered to my residence in Zhongnan Garden.

I loved magnolia trees, and the Crown Prince sent for some from the south for me.

Though he spoke little to me, he regarded me as part of the Eastern Palace. It was this faint kindness that sustained me through every lonely night.

In the first spring after his enthronement, when the magnolias bloomed again in Rouyi Hall, I happily went to Jinghong Hall to invite Lady Jinghong to admire the flowers with me.

If only His Majesty could be there too—it would have been even better.

I waited in Jinghong Hall, sipping a bowl of rose honey water, for half an hour. She did not return.

So I went back alone.

Looking at the magnolia tree in the courtyard, I wondered if it could be made into honey as well. Suddenly, a sharp pain gripped my abdomen. Jin Xiu was terrified and ran crying to summon the imperial physician.

Lying in bed, my eyes already losing their light, I could still hear the physician telling His Majesty and Lady Jinghong that Consort Xian had been poisoned and was beyond saving.

Suddenly, I longed for my father and mother. In this lifetime, I would never be able to care for them in their old age.

I also yearned for the days in the Eastern Palace—there was the Crown Princess, Sister Cheng, and An Baolin.

And His Highness the Crown Prince.

But I knew there was no going back.

Neither the Eastern Palace nor the Lu family could be returned to.

I heard Lady Jinghong weeping and calling my name while holding me; His Majesty comforted her. They all surrounded me, yet I never heard Sister Cheng’s voice.

Her residence, the Hehuan Hall, was not far from my Rouyi Hall.

After I died, besides ordering a grand funeral, would His Majesty furrow his brow even once?

I had a secret I had never told anyone. Long ago, before I was even of age, I had seen His Majesty.

That autumn, I accompanied my mother to the Marquis of Yongjia’s manor to offer birthday respects. Passing by the rear garden, behind the rockery and pond, I saw a young lord with blue-black hair standing there. He laughed aloud:

“Shen Yu, this exquisite qin is truly wasted on you. If you have no talent, don’t force yourself.”

“Brother Crown Prince, I come from a military family. As long as I can hold a sword, that is enough. None in my entire family can match your qin skills.”

From that moment, I gave up the pipa I once excelled at and began to diligently practice the seven-string zither.

My mother was surprised and asked why. I said I didn’t know.

During my years in the Eastern Palace, only Jin Xiu knew I could still play the pipa so well.

Once, as I was about to leave the valley, I spent several days facing the magnolia trees.

Leaning against the tree, cherishing the fragrant intent,

Clutching a branch, lamenting the passing years.

In the cool shade, I must rest for a while,

The beauty worthy of longing.

Awaiting the day to wield gold coins,

Diligently offering a feathered cup.