At the end of the twelfth month of the fourteenth year of Zhenning’s reign, the Late Emperor’s funeral procession began, with Yi Lang and all officials leaving the city to attend.
The construction of the Late Emperor’s mausoleum was not yet complete, but once the Inner Cabinet issued the posthumous edict, the Ministry of Works immediately scaled down the original specifications of the mausoleum, halting all above-ground construction.
At the time of Emperor Zhenning’s funeral, nearly nine levels of underground work had been completed. The Ministry of Works had originally petitioned to temporarily place the Late Emperor’s coffin in the imperial temple at Bijia Mountain, suggesting they wait until the gate towers, offering hall, side halls, and sacred kitchen were completed before entombing the Late Emperor, but Bai Yuyang rejected their request.
Without interference from the Ceremonial Office, the Inner Cabinet quickly established the funeral protocols, ordering everything to be simplified to avoid burdening the people.
Thus, Emperor Zhenning, who had lived a life of fine silk robes and pursuit of pleasure, was forced to become the most modestly interred monarch in Great Ming history.
With heavy snow blocking the roads at year’s end and Yang Wan’s illness growing worse, Yi Lang had her rest in the Hall of Mental Cultivation instead of attending.
While the palace was quiet, the Empress Dowager left instructions before departing the palace, ordering Yang Wan to lead the Bureau of Ceremonies in welcoming Consort Ning back to the palace during the officials’ attendance at the funeral.
At this time, the grand ceremonies of the inner court had not yet been established, and the Bureau of Ceremonies was hesitant about the protocols for welcoming Consort Ning back. The Empress Dowager had ordered the Bureau to welcome her back, but how could they deploy ceremonial guards during the period of national mourning? The Empress Dowager’s intention was quite clear—Consort Ning was a mad woman, and even if they temporarily welcomed her back to the palace for Yi Lang’s sake, she could not later be included in the inner court’s grand ceremonies.
Jiang Min personally went to see Yang Wan about this, apologetically saying, “I’m afraid we’ll have to slight Consort Ning.”
Yang Wan didn’t say much, only responding, “This is appropriate during the period of national mourning. Being able to welcome the Consort back is enough.”
Seeing that she wasn’t making things difficult, Jiang Min felt even more apologetic and comforted her, “The Bureau of Ceremonies has set the twenty-fourth day. Though we cannot use ceremonial guards, the personnel will be complete.”
Yang Wan thanked Jiang Min.
On the twenty-fourth, snow blanketed the city.
Yang Wan stood with an umbrella at the entrance of the Banana Garden, with the Bureau of Ceremonies personnel lined up on both sides. Though the clothes the female attendants held were newly made, they were common clothes rather than consort’s palace garments. The garden guards opened the gates and told Yang Wan, “Six people may enter to serve the Consort in grooming, the rest must wait outside the hall.”
Yang Wan turned to take the clothes from the attendants’ hands and said to Lady Jiang, “I’ll lead the original palace maids from Chengqian Palace in.”
“Yes.”
Yang Wan lifted her skirts and stepped through the garden gate.
Behind the gate was a grove of plum trees, their fragrance strong at this time, with beautiful plum blossoms like pink jade hanging in the grove.
A small path wound through the grove, and as one walked forward, the flowers grew denser.
The palace maid leading the way was an elderly aunt, very kind, who spoke to Yang Wan as they walked, “In these years when the Consort couldn’t leave the hall, she would occasionally stand by the window for a while. At first, we thought the Consort was missing His Majesty and the Crown Prince, but later we realized the Consort’s heart was distant. During spring and autumn, His Majesty would often come to the garden to feast with Consort Jiang, and each time, the Consort would lock her doors and sit quietly alone. Finally, we gradually realized that every time the Consort opened her window, it was to look at the moon in the sky.”
“The moon?”
“Yes.”
The palace maid looked up at the sky, “The Banana Garden has the most beautiful moonlight in the entire imperial city. We didn’t know how to appreciate it before, but the Consort told us that in winter, on nights when the plum blossoms are in full bloom, when you push open that window, the cold flowers and frigid moon, with their piercing fragrance at your side, create an extremely elegant scene. It’s a pity it’s still early, and the Consort won’t see it today. Ah… look at me…”
The palace maid lowered her head, “What am I saying? Now that the Consort can return to the palace, what scenes won’t she be able to see in the future?”
Yang Wan changed the subject, asking, “How is the Consort’s health?”
“Good.”
The palace maid sighed, “She’s willing to eat, sleeps peacefully, and will talk with us, it’s just… we rarely see the Consort smile. When we told her earlier that the Crown Prince had become Emperor, she just nodded.”
Yang Wan fell silent and followed the palace maid to the hall entrance.
A brass lock hung cold and lifeless on the hall doors.
Yang Wan pressed her lips together as she looked at the lock, and the palace maid hurriedly stepped forward, saying, “Miss Wan, please wait, I’ll open it right away.”
The sound of the lock opening echoed in the quiet garden. As soon as the lock was opened, the chains were pulled out, and the palace maid bowed and pushed open the hall doors. A draft immediately rushed into the hall, stirring Yang Wan’s clothes.
The palace maid called inside, “Consort, Miss Wan is here.”
Suddenly, from the silent hall came the sound of a teacup falling.
Yang Wan hurried behind the screen.
In the inner chamber behind the screen, tea bowls lay shattered on the floor, and Consort Ning was coming down from the couch, rolling up her sleeves and crouching down to clean up the mess.
She wore a plain silk undergarment, her long hair scattered over her shoulders, her face without makeup. Though she still appeared spirited, she was thin.
“Sister, don’t touch it, I’ll do it.”
Consort Ning looked up, ignoring her scalded fingers to grasp Yang Wan’s hand, her lips trembling uncontrollably.
“Wan’er…”
Yang Wan quickly grasped Consort Ning’s hands in return, responding, “I’m here.”
The charcoal fire in the inner chamber wasn’t burning warmly, and both women’s hands were ice cold. Looking at each other, they had thousands of words in their hearts, yet neither could speak.
Neither dared to cry, afraid of touching each other’s wounds.
Consort Ning had entrusted Yi Lang to Yang Wan, and two or three years had passed in a flash.
Though the inner court was full of intrigue, she had been somewhat removed from the center of conflicts while confined in the Banana Garden.
But Yang Wan had walked into it alone.
Consort Ning didn’t know how she had walked this path alone, and she didn’t dare ask if she was doing well. Because she could see that the person before her had changed much in demeanor compared to before.
This change wasn’t just a young girl’s growth.
Consort Ning vaguely sensed that she hadn’t changed in essence, but rather had her skin worn thin and bones broken, appearing more sensitive, more fragile.
Yang Wan dared not look at Consort Ning.
To Yang Wan, she wasn’t just her sister; she was also like the cold moon, the most elegant and sorrowful person in the Great Ming dynasty.