This child with the pet name Mingyuezhu (Bright Moon Pearl) was formally named Li Ying by the Emperor, titled Princess Yong’an, given Guangling Commandery as her fief, and cherished immensely.
Jiang Lingye had previously believed she wasn’t a person who liked children. Unlike her elder sister, who would play with adorable children whenever she saw them, Jiang Lingye never enjoyed such interactions. She had hoped for a child because it would benefit her rise to power, nothing more.
However, everything changed while she was carrying Li Ying, and changed even more after Li Ying was born. Li Ying was extremely considerate and well-behaved. She rarely cried at night, allowing Jiang Lingye to sleep soundly. Moreover, she would smile whenever she saw Jiang Lingye and the Emperor, and would stretch out her arms wanting to be held, as if she knew they were her parents. She was quite intelligent.
How could Jiang Lingye not love Li Ying to her very core? Now she would unhesitatingly give her own life in exchange for Li Ying’s.
The Emperor’s affection for Li Ying also far exceeded that for his other princes and princesses. When Li Ying was three years old, during a palace performance of nuo opera, musicians wearing ghost and monster masks danced before the Emperor. Li Ying, who had been sitting in the Emperor’s lap watching, suddenly began crying loudly in fear. The Emperor tried to comfort her, but Li Ying wiped her tears, jumped down from the Emperor’s lap, and despite her fear, mustered her courage. She spread her arms wide, standing before the musician, and cried out:
“If you want to eat someone, eat me, not my father!”
Everyone present burst into laughter at the child’s naive words, but behind his smile, the Emperor’s eyes reddened.
He probably recalled how, in his childhood, his mother had been killed and he had been taken away. Empress Dowager Xue had never truly loved him. Everyone feared him and flattered him, but no one would stand in front of him when he faced danger, willing to die for him.
Yet this three-year-old child had done so.
She was willing to die for him, simply because he was her father, not because he was the Emperor of the Great Zhou.
From then on, the Emperor increasingly doted on Li Ying, and Li Ying was equally thoughtful. When her mother had headaches, she extensively read medical books and learned to make fragrant sachets to alleviate her mother’s pain. When her father was troubled by court affairs, she would quietly accompany him, playing chess to ease his worries. Because of Li Ying, the Emperor and Jiang Lingye completely set aside their misgivings and began to trust each other wholeheartedly.
But who could have imagined that it was also because of Li Ying that the two would gradually grow apart, eventually leading to a complete rupture.
In Shenlong Hall, the aging Empress reclined on her couch, recalling fragments of days past. She thought of her calculated seduction when she first entered the palace, the mutual suspicion and attraction during their testing of each other, and the wholehearted trust when they revealed their true feelings. For sixteen years thereafter, through storms and tribulations, she and he had worked hand in hand—removing Empress Dowager Xue together, planning new policies together, suppressing the noble families together, supporting scholars from humble backgrounds together—expanding imperial authority to unprecedented levels.
She also recalled how, after Li Ying’s death, they had grown estranged in heart and mind. In the end, she no longer called him “Third Lord,” and he no longer called her “Lingye.” Instead, they addressed each other as “Your Majesty” and “Empress.” During those ten years, she guarded against him, and he guarded against her. Though husband and wife, their dreams diverged.
Perhaps only when one is at death’s door does one recall the memories one most wishes to forget.
The officials and Crown Prince Li Zheng were reporting on arrangements for after her death. When discussing her tomb, the Minister of Rites Liang Ping cautiously asked: “Your Majesty, do you wish to be buried together with Emperor Ming in the Western Ding Mausoleum?”
Since ascending the throne, the Empress had neither mentioned being buried with Emperor Ming nor built her mausoleum. The officials couldn’t discern her thoughts, but with the Empress’s end approaching, they had to clarify this matter.
The Empress didn’t answer, but after a long daze, she finally said: “Emperor Ming… does he want to see me?”
Liang Ping didn’t know how to answer this question. Publicly, the Empress had worked diligently to consolidate the new policies, leading the Great Zhou into a golden age. But privately, she, of a different surname, had taken the Li family’s throne and executed many of Emperor Ming’s sons. So Liang Ping didn’t know whether Emperor Ming would want to see the Empress.
Perhaps Liang Ping’s silence made the Empress laugh bitterly, her smile full of bitterness. Seeing the Empress like this, Liang Ping increasingly dared not speak, but Li Zheng suddenly spoke up: “I believe Emperor Ming would want to see Your Majesty.”
The Empress looked at him, and Li Zheng continued slowly: “Emperor Ming ascended the throne as a youth, eliminated treacherous officials, seized power, and promoted new policies. Each step was extraordinarily difficult, yet each step revealed unexpected hope. It can be said that Emperor Ming was the most accomplished emperor since the founding of our Great Zhou.”
Li Zheng had always admired his grandfather the most. He continued: “Emperor Ming was naturally brilliant. How could he not have anticipated the various events after his passing? Yet he still chose to entrust the Great Zhou to Your Majesty, because he believed that Your Majesty was the most suitable choice, that Your Majesty could carry on his governance principles. Now, thirty-six years have passed since Emperor Ming’s death. The Great Zhou enjoys peace and prosperity, with foreign nations paying tribute and barbarians not daring to invade. This is sufficient proof that Emperor Ming’s trust was correct.”
The Taichang New Policies were Emperor Taichang’s life’s work, embodying all his ideals and visions. And the Empress had carried forward his life’s work. Li Zheng finally said: “If Emperor Ming could see today’s Great Zhou, how could he not wish to see Your Majesty?”
After listening, the Empress said nothing, but slowly closed her eyes: “Enough. Whether he wishes to see me or not, I will go to the Western Ding Mausoleum and be buried with him.”
“I entered the palace at fifteen and became his consort at sixteen. Now I am eighty years old, and he has been gone for thirty-six years. After all these years, from black hair to white, I still remember how he looked when I first saw him…” The Empress’s voice grew increasingly soft. She seemed to recall the scene of the beautiful young girl prostrating herself in Qifeng Pavilion, secretly raising her eyes to look at the young emperor. She murmured: “In the netherworld, he and I, as husband and wife, can finally settle all our debts of gratitude and grievance…”
By the banks of the Naihe River, the ferryman wearing a wide-brimmed bamboo hat lay on the yellow sand. The hat completely covered his face, making it impossible to see his expression.
No one knew what he was thinking at that moment—whether he was thinking about the vast empire he once ruled, the wife who had shared his ideals, or the daughter he had nearly killed?
The ferryman moved his hat down a bit more. He closed his eyes, and in a daze, he seemed to return to the sixth day of the tenth month in the thirtieth year of Taichang.
When he saw Li Ying’s body retrieved from the Lotus Pond, the immense grief made him unable to stand steadily. Faced with Jiang Lingye’s heart-wrenching cries, only one question filled his mind:
Why did this happen?
He had sent Jin Ni to stop Ji Qingyang. Why did Li Ying still drown?
Where had things gone wrong?
Jiang Lingye fell ill overnight due to her beloved daughter’s death, and he was equally devastated in body and spirit. While recuperating in Shenlong Hall, he repeatedly recalled Li Ying’s life from childhood to adulthood, thinking of her at three years old standing before the musician with the monster mask, saying sweetly: “If you want to eat someone, eat me, not my father!”
His heart was filled with both guilt and grief, preventing him from even drinking his medicine. When he sought to understand why Li Ying had died, Ji Qingyang came to assassinate him.
Shenlong Hall was heavily guarded; Ji Qingyang was no match for the Imperial Guards. After being captured, Ji Qingyang’s eyes were bloodshot as he glared at the Emperor: “Does Your Majesty want to know why the Princess died? The Princess was killed by Your Majesty!”
“Nonsense!” Emperor Taichang refused to face this fact. He coughed violently, his sword pressed against Ji Qingyang’s neck: “I ordered Jin Ni to stop you. How could Mingyuezhu possibly have been killed by me?”
With his life hanging by a thread, Ji Qingyang laughed fearlessly: “Your Majesty did have Jin Ni notify me, but the Princess still drowned. Does Your Majesty want to know why?”
Ji Qingyang said word by word: “Because the Princess chose to die herself!”
Emperor Taichang was stunned. Ji Qingyang continued: “The Princess knew Your Majesty wanted to kill her. Your Majesty was willing to sacrifice your daughter for the new policies. The Princess fulfilled Your Majesty’s wish!”
The word “fulfilled” left Emperor Taichang pale-faced, unable to utter a single word.
But Ji Qingyang continued: “The Princess didn’t let Your Majesty bear the infamy of killing his daughter. The Princess committed suicide! Ha, ha, even in death, she was thinking of Your Majesty. But Your Majesty, you wanted to kill her! What did the Princess do wrong? If Your Majesty wanted to take back her life, why did you give her life in the first place? Why did you let the Princess become the brightest pearl of the Great Zhou before taking back her life? Was Your Majesty’s love for her all false? Were sixteen years of cherishing her like a pearl, like a treasure, just to prepare her for this feast of death?”
By the end, Ji Qingyang was sobbing uncontrollably: “But even though Your Majesty wanted the Princess to attend this feast of death, the Princess willingly attended. She even told me not to stop her… This was the fate she chose herself… She calmly went to her death, using her death to fulfill Your Majesty’s new policies… Your Majesty, you don’t deserve a daughter like the Princess!”
Emperor Taichang spat a mouthful of blood onto the ground.
He gripped his sword, his fingers trembling. Ji Qingyang closed his eyes—if Emperor Taichang killed him, it would fulfill his wish to join Li Ying.
But Emperor Taichang cut the ropes binding him and shouted: “Guards!”
The Imperial Guards who had been dismissed rushed in. Some hurriedly went to support Emperor Taichang, some to restrain Ji Qingyang. But Emperor Taichang wearily said: “Release him.”
“Your Majesty…”
“I said, release him!”
The Imperial Guards were confused, as was Ji Qingyang. Emperor Taichang closed his eyes and said slowly: “Ji Qingyang, go. You cannot kill me.”
He said: “But my patience has limits. Do not challenge my bottom line again.”