Held in the Lonely Castle Chapter 11

 

 Held in the Lonely Castle  

 Chapter 11

Translated by : DANMEI HEAVEN

    Shadows of Clouds

The following spring, Consort Zhang’s daughter Youwon’s condition worsened. By the fourth month, the imperial physicians declared her beyond saving. The emperor, frantic, first named her Princess Deng, then elevated her to Princess of Qi, ranking her above Princess Fukang. But these honors couldn’t avert tragedy—Princess of Qi passed away soon after.

Upon hearing the news, Princess Fukang burst into tears. Though she disliked Consort Zhang, she held no animosity toward her daughters, even enjoying their company. Her grief was genuine.

Between sobs, she said, "I want to see Youwon."

I hesitated, recalling the witchcraft incident.

She seemed to read my thoughts. "Brother," she said solemnly, "I never cursed Youwon."

I nodded, offering a gentle smile. "I know."

But Consort Zhang might not. When I conveyed the princess’s wish to Consort Miao for guidance, the consort sighed. "If Huirou goes now, won’t she be walking into Consort Zhang’s wrath?"

She discreetly consulted Wang Zhaoming for the emperor’s opinion. The emperor decreed the princess should visit the next day and observe mourning rites for Youwon.

Children who died before eight weren’t traditionally mourned, but the emperor’s order for the elder princess to observe mourning for the younger was unusual—elevating Youwon’s funeral while slighting Princess Fukang. Yet the princess complied without complaint, donning mourning attire to pay respects the following day.

Consort Zhang’s Xiangluan Pavilion was thick with incense, monks chanting around the small coffin. Consort Zhang, slumped beside it, seemed drained from weeping, her eyes swollen and vacant. The emperor stood by, offering comfort while wiping his own tears.

When Consort Zhang saw Consort Miao and Princess Fukang, she stirred to life, her lips twisting into a cold smile. "Third time. Still not satisfied?"

I followed the princess in, puzzled by her words until Consort Zhang’s glare struck the mother and daughter. "First Ansou, then Baohe, now Youwon! I know you hate me—have the emperor execute me! Why harm my daughters?"

Princess Ansou and Princess Baohe, Consort Zhang’s third and fourth daughters, had also died young. Her implication was clear—she believed all three had been murdered. The cloth doll incident had cemented her suspicion of the princess and Consort Miao.

Her rage mounted, and she lunged at the princess. The emperor swiftly restrained her.

Tears streamed down the princess’s face as she shook her head. "I never harmed Youwon, never harmed any of my sisters…"

Consort Zhang ignored her protests. The princess’s presence fueled her fury, and she railed on, cursing those she blamed for her daughter’s death before collapsing against the emperor, recounting each daughter’s final moments.

As she spoke, her anger ebbed, her tone softening. "…Youwon was so good. She didn’t want me to grieve, never cried out in pain. When she saw my tears, she’d wipe them and say, ‘Don’t cry, Sister. Your decal will smudge.’… Toward the end, she could barely breathe, her face flushed, but she still smiled at me… I held her, held her, her cheek against my chest, her hand clutching my robe, but she grew colder…"

The emperor embraced her, turning away so we couldn’t see his face, though his trembling shoulders betrayed his grief.

Her final words moistened even my eyes. Beneath her brash exterior, she was just a grieving mother.

The princess wiped her tears and stepped forward to light incense, but Consort Zhang coldly interjected, "Leave. Youwon wouldn’t want to see you now."

The princess approached, looking up at her with uncharacteristic earnestness. "Consort Zhang, I—"

"Out!" Consort Zhang cut her off mercilessly.

The princess turned pleadingly to the emperor. "Father…"

The emperor sighed. "Go back."

The princess stood her ground. "Father, listen—"

"Get out!" Consort Zhang roared, eyeing the princess’s mourning attire. "And take off that hypocritical garb! Even if you wore ten layers of sackcloth, could it atone for your sins? Bring Youwon back?"

This provoked the princess. She straightened, frowning. "I’ve done nothing to atone for."

"Enough, Huirou!" the emperor suddenly snapped. "Leave. Now!"

The princess stared at him, stunned by his uncharacteristic harshness. Her lashes fluttered, tears falling anew before she spun and fled.

Han, several attendants, and I chased after her, but outside the pavilion, she whirled and ordered, "Stay! Anyone who follows will be beheaded!"

They halted helplessly. Han nudged me, gesturing toward the princess’s retreating figure. Understanding, I pursued alone.

The rear palace wasn’t vast. After wandering, she ended up at the garden again, sinking onto a rock to weep openly.

Knowing she needed to vent, I didn’t interrupt, standing silently behind her until she noticed and moved away to cry elsewhere. I followed, and after a glare, she stayed put.

She wept for a long time, unrestrained as a child, tears and snot mingling. Having no handkerchief, she wiped her face with her sleeves, soon soaking them. When she reached for her nose again, I stepped forward, offering my clean sleeve.

She took it without hesitation, blowing her nose unabashedly.

The casualness of the gesture made me laugh.

She huffed, her dark eyes glaring. "Why do you follow me like a shadow?"

"I’m not like a shadow," I replied after a pause. "I am your shadow. Wherever the princess is, there I’ll be."

She studied me silently, then suddenly brightened, darting to an open area devoid of shadows. Standing straight, arms at her sides, she looked up at me triumphantly. "Look at the ground!"

Bathed in sunlight, she cast no shadow. At high noon, in that posture, she was nearly shadowless.

"Where’s the shadow? Where’s Huaiji?" she teased.

I smiled, silent.

"Silly!" she declared, then supplied her preferred answer: "You should say, ‘The shadow is at the princess’s feet, and Huaiji is in the princess’s heart.’"

She grinned artlessly in the sunlight, oblivious to my shock. She hadn’t sensed the intimacy in her words, stating them as fact—like clouds floating over misty waters, willow catkins drifting past palace walls.

(To be continued)