“If there is anything you need, Crown Prince,” the physician said, “we’re here to serve you.”
“You have my gratitude, Physician Sun.” Pheasant nodded solemnly. His gaze swept past me. A swift look, but long enough to warm my heart. We had seen each other more often recently, as he came to visit his father almost every day. Sometimes, when the other Talents were not watching, he would brush my arm or hold my hand, and sometimes, when he went to use the privy chamber, I would follow him. There we would share some precious private moments, and it would be the highlight of my day. “Uncle?”
The Duke bowed slightly. “Nephew.”
The old man looked his usual self, his face long and hard and his gaze arrogant. I wondered how the Duke managed to stay in good health. He was the Emperor’s brother-in-law, and they were the same age, but while the Emperor was in the throes of death, the Duke still stood strong. For the past three years, he had been the Emperor’s close assistant, taking direct orders from him, writing edicts for him when he lost control of his arm. Since the Emperor had become ill the year before, the Duke had acted on the Emperor’s behalf, giving orders to the ministers. At the moment, he was the most powerful man in the kingdom.
“I must prepare for the inevitable,” Pheasant said. “I would like you to arrange a meeting with the astrologers, Uncle, and report to me the auspicious dates for burial in the coming months. Also, summon the mausoleum’s mural painters for me, as well as the craftsmen who will build the four divine animal statues for the burial. I would like to examine their works and make certain all matters regarding the funeral are taken care of.”
His voice was loud and steady, full of command and authority. I was proud of Pheasant. During the past months, he had shown a strength that was unknown even to himself. He had learned the rituals of worshipping Heaven and Earth and the judicial and penal processes, and familiarized himself with the governments of the sixteen prefectures of the kingdom. He had gathered ministers together, charmed them, and even won the support of the General, the commander of the ninety-nine legions of the Gold Bird Guards, who safeguarded the palace.
“Of course, Nephew,” the Duke said, looking hesitant, “yet I would advise you not to tell the women of this devastating news at the moment.”
“Why?” Pheasant looked surprised.
The Duke coughed, and when he spoke again, his voice was so low I had to strain to hear. “For the women are most petty minded and troublesome… If they know their fate…”
“What fate?”
“Naturally, your father’s women shall never be seen or touched by any other men, and he has ordered that those who have borne him children must dwell in the safe Yeting Court for the rest of their lives.”
Pheasant frowned. “I see. But what about the women who have not borne a child?”
“They will be sent to the Buddhist monasteries around the kingdom, where they will pray for the Emperor’s soul. This is for the best and a fine tradition that dynasties follow.”
I froze. Buddhist monasteries? He was banishing us. He was demanding we become Buddhist nuns, the ones who severed their secular ties to the world, the ones who forsook joy and desire, the ones with only past and no future. If we were banished there, scattered to the remote corners of the kingdom, we would hear nothing but the sound of misery, feel nothing but sorrow, see nothing but death. Our lives would end.
A chill swept over my body. The Emperor’s death would be my noose.
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The Empress of Bright Moon
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A Conversation with the Author
What inspired you to write this novel?
I first had the idea of writing about women when I studied No Name Woman in Maxine Hong Kingston’s The Woman Warrior: Memoirs of a Girlhood among Ghosts in graduate school. Because that story was so depressing, I wanted to show my classmates that not all women had that kind of fate in China. I decided to write stories of Chinese women who succeeded in controlling their destinies. And who controlled her destiny better than Empress Wu? But I realized Empress Wu was so misrepresented, to understand her better, we had to start from her earlier years. That’s where The Moon in the Palace begins.
If you could spend one day with an author, dead or alive, who would it be and why?