Chapter Four: The Legendary Cold Palace

Ling Zetian questioned Eunuch Sun, and upon learning that Feng Qiuji had run off, the flames of rage surged within him. This woman, after slipping away, still refused to return to the palace—she truly held him in no regard. Did she truly believe he would indulge her just because of her father's power?

"Announce my decree. The Empress is to be sent to the Cold Palace."

"Yes, Your Majesty." Sensing the emperor’s displeasure, Eunuch Sun responded with utmost obedience, while Xiao Hui, in that moment, panicked.

"Your Majesty, please don’t treat my lady this way. It was only a moment’s carelessness that led to her mistake. Please don’t punish her so harshly..." With a thud, Xiao Hui fell to her knees before Ling Zetian, kowtowing in desperate plea.

"Eunuch Sun, prepare the palanquin for Lingyue Palace." Without so much as a glance at Xiao Hui, Ling Zetian strode out of Chaoyun Palace. No matter what the old ministers might say tomorrow in court, he would ensure that unruly woman knew this was the imperial palace, and he alone was its master.

About half a cup of tea’s time later, Feng Qiuji finally returned to Chaoyun Palace, led by a palace maid. As she entered the courtyard, she saw Xiao Hui kneeling on the ground, her head bowed low in an unknown act.

"Xiao Hui..." Feng Qiuji called out weakly, nearly collapsing from exhaustion. After all she had been through, she finally realized the palace was a dangerous place—she never wanted to run wild again.

"My lady," hearing the familiar voice, Xiao Hui looked up abruptly, overjoyed to see Feng Qiuji had returned. Rushing over, she embraced her tightly.

"There, there, I’m back..." Feng Qiuji was on the verge of tears from relief, but noticed Xiao Hui’s face was streaked with tears. "I’m back, aren’t I? Is there any need for all this crying?"

"No, my lady..." Xiao Hui said through her tears, "I’m crying because you’ve been sent to the Cold Palace..."

"What?!" At those words, Feng Qiuji’s vision darkened, and she nearly fainted. Her money, her life of luxury and splendor—was it all to be lost in vain?

With trembling hands, Feng Qiuji grasped Xiao Hui’s. "Why am I being sent to the Cold Palace..."

"Because you left the palace without permission..."

"And where is the emperor? Where is he? I must confront him..." Feng Qiuji could not swallow this humiliation. She could not let herself be buried in the Cold Palace. She still wanted to live well, to be Empress, to eat, sleep, and enjoy life...

"The emperor has gone to Lingyue Palace..." Sighing behind her hands, Xiao Hui was at a loss. Her lady truly was pitiful, but it was too late—what could be done now?

"Lingyue Palace?" At that, Feng Qiuji suddenly recalled that tonight was her wedding night. If she had stayed in Chaoyun Palace, would that not mean she would have been favored by Ling Zetian? She patted her chest in relief—thank goodness she hadn’t been there. She was in no way prepared to share a bed with a man she had only met once. It was utterly preposterous! "Come, Xiao Hui, let’s go to the Cold Palace."

Thus, the next day, the entire world knew that the Empress had been sent to the Cold Palace on the very day after her entry into the imperial palace.

And so, among the people, countless versions of that night’s events circulated.

Version one: It was said the Empress was abducted that night and lost her virtue, hence her banishment to the Cold Palace, never to be redeemed.

Version two: It was said the Empress refused to submit, chose to flee, and in his wrath, the emperor cast her into the Cold Palace, never to be redeemed.

Version three: It was said the Empress, displeased that the emperor had gone to another consort’s palace that night, berated him for his wantonness, and thus was punished by banishment to the Cold Palace, never to be redeemed.

...

With countless versions, the conclusion was singular: the emperor was no good, and the Empress became a tragedy.

Time slipped by. Unbeknownst to her, Feng Qiuji had spent more than half a month in the Cold Palace. During this time, she busied herself with tending flowers and watering trees, living with surprising ease. In this secluded, desolate place, there was no one but her and Xiao Hui, not even a fly to be seen. Feng Qiuji suspected that if she stayed a few more days, she could escape the palace and no one would care.

Yet, early one morning, Eunuch Sun arrived to inform her that she must clean the Cold Palace thoroughly by day’s end. The reason? The emperor would be visiting that night. Why the emperor would come to the Cold Palace, she did not know.

When Ling Zetian arrived, Feng Qiuji was eating from a rice bowl. But since the leader had come for an inspection, she had no choice but to set aside her meal and accompany him on a slow circuit of the Cold Palace.

After one turn, Ling Zetian suddenly halted, and Feng Qiuji, lost in her own thoughts, walked straight into him. Turning around, he saw her rubbing her nose, a hint of dissatisfaction on her face, as if blaming him for stopping so abruptly.

"Do you know why I came today?"

"No idea." Feng Qiuji yawned, wiped her eyes, and smacked her lips. After all, the entire palace was his domain—he could go wherever he pleased. What did that have to do with her?

Seeing her utterly indifferent manner, Ling Zetian’s irritation flared again. Why was she always so nonchalant toward him? He was the emperor, revered and pampered since childhood. Everyone he met treated him with utmost deference, currying favor—everyone but this woman. Not only did she not try to please him, but she left him nothing with which to fault her manners.

"Your Majesty, Consort Lian seeks an audience."

No sooner had Eunuch Sun spoken than Feng Qiuji saw a beauty enter the Cold Palace, dressed in a light yellow, high-waisted gown, with a maid in palace attire trailing behind. The woman’s smile was radiant, her makeup exquisite, her figure alluring—clearly, this must be Consort Lian.

"It’s quite late, Consort Lian. What brings you here?" Ling Zetian watched her enter with an icy gaze, his expression unchanged.

"I noticed that Your Majesty had not come to Lingyue Palace tonight and grew worried. Upon hearing you had come to the Cold Palace, I specially came to check on you." As she spoke, she glanced at Feng Qiuji with unconcealed disdain.

Hearing the words Lingyue Palace, Feng Qiuji vaguely recalled that on her wedding night, the emperor had not come to Chaoyun Palace but had gone to Lingyue Palace instead. So Consort Lian was its mistress—yet another favored consort grown arrogant with her status.

"Well then, has Consort Lian finished her inspection?" Feng Qiuji regarded the proud and aloof beauty with equal contempt. She was not someone to be trifled with—if Consort Lian gave her the cold shoulder, she saw no reason to return the courtesy.

Consort Lian was briefly taken aback by this, then nodded. "I’m finished."

"Then please, see yourself out."

Feng Qiuji coldly issued her guest’s dismissal. A flash of embarrassment crossed Consort Lian’s face. She cast her gaze toward the silent Ling Zetian, gracefully stepped to his side, and tugged at his wide sleeve, speaking softly, "Your Majesty...why must you sleep here? This Cold Palace is dilapidated and desolate, long uninhabited—there may even be unclean things. You are the Son of Heaven; how can you suffer such indignity..."

"Oh my, this Cold Palace is so deserted that even flies are scarce, yet tonight both the emperor and his consorts are flocking here. Consort Lian, you’re absolutely right—this place is far too bleak for a Bodhisattva like yourself. You’d best take care of your noble health and hurry back to your palace," Feng Qiuji declared, arms folded, leaning casually against the doorframe, clearly amused by the spectacle.

"Your Majesty, I’ve made your favorite pastries. Let’s return to the palace together," Consort Lian said, shooting a glare at Feng Qiuji before resuming her coquettish tugging at Ling Zetian’s sleeve. Everyone knew that his favorite was Qin Ruyan; what did it matter if Feng Qiuji was Empress when she was not favored, perhaps not even as much as Consort Lian herself.

"Get out." Having listened long enough, Ling Zetian’s patience was at an end. He despised women who could not discern the occasion for their coquettishness, and Consort Lian’s foolishness had sorely tried him.

"Your Majesty..." Stunned by his icy rebuke, Consort Lian faltered.

He offered no further response, irritably pulling his sleeve from her grasp.

"Your Majesty..." She seemed about to say more, but Ling Zetian’s patience was exhausted. With a wave of his hand, she was sent flying out the door.

"Marvelous, Your Majesty! Your martial skills are truly impressive..." Feng Qiuji applauded with genuine delight. Consort Lian really was dim—not understanding Ling Zetian’s temperament after all this time. Even Feng Qiuji could see his growing impatience. Now she didn’t even need to dirty her own hands to clear the room.

"You..." With her maid’s help, Consort Lian staggered to her feet, her eyes blazing as she glared at Feng Qiuji’s schadenfreude.

"Sister, one must learn from one’s mistakes. As the saying goes, ‘A fall into the pit, a gain in your wit.’ You must reflect on this so you’re not thrown out again next time," Feng Qiuji said, barely containing her laughter and giving Consort Lian a look of encouragement.

"You, you... I have nothing to say to someone as lowly as you," Consort Lian spat, shooting one last glare before storming away with her maid’s assistance.

"Take care, noble Consort Lian. Don’t bottle up your anger, or you’ll harm your health..." Feng Qiuji called after her, voice ringing.

Consort Lian stumbled at the words, nearly falling.

"My lady..." her maid hastened to support her.

"Hmph, I don’t need your help!" She angrily shook the maid off and stormed out of the Cold Palace.

"Ha, what a delightful night." Feng Qiuji turned, smug and content, only to meet Ling Zetian’s cold, piercing gaze.

"So, the Empress finds revenge quite satisfying, does she?"

"I’m going to bed," Feng Qiuji replied, swiftly stifling her glee for fear of sharing Consort Lian’s fate.

"Stop. Who gave you permission to leave?"

Hearing the displeasure in his tone, Feng Qiuji forced a smile. "Your Majesty, it’s late. You should return to your palace and rest."

"So, the Empress finds life in the Cold Palace quite comfortable?" Ling Zetian’s anger flared anew. He had thought that, after neglecting her for so long, she would be moved to tears upon his visit and beg to be released. Yet here she was, living at ease and content.

"It’s not bad, just a bit lonely. There aren’t many people around, but otherwise, I’ve adapted. Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty." Hearing Ling Zetian’s words, Feng Qiuji even felt a hint of gratitude—he did have some conscience, after all. She was no pampered noble lady; as long as she had a clean place to live, she was content, unlike those consorts spoiled by the grandeur of palace life who needed servants at their beck and call.

"I see," Ling Zetian sneered, casting her a disdainful glance before turning and leaving the Cold Palace. "Then the Empress can continue staying here."

Detecting a trace of anger in his tone, Feng Qiuji scratched her head in puzzlement. Had she said something wrong to offend the emperor?

(A small aside—the Cold Palace is every heroine’s inevitable destination!)