The Moon in the Palace (The Empress of Bright Moon Duology)

The liquid in the jug swished, wetting my palm as he pushed at me. He seemed to be having trouble, however, grunting and cursing. I stared at the ceiling. The bedposts seemed to shake, and the green balls in the dragons’ mouths appeared as if they would fall out any moment. There were two reflections, the Emperor’s back and my head. We looked small, like insects crawling…

His cursing grew louder, and his breath became heavier. I tensed, worried. I hoped he was not upset with me.

“Turn around!” he barked. A force smacked me, and his hands clamped down on the sides of my face. My ear was rubbed raw, and my jaw was nearly crushed.

What would it be like to do it with Pheasant? Would he hurt me too? I should have been ashamed. I should not have thought of him while I was in his father’s bed…

A loud sound exploded. It was the jug. I looked at my empty hands. The Emperor had snatched it from me and smashed it.

“Useless, useless!” he bellowed, flinging his arm wildly. Another crash. Then another. He breathed hard, his face crimson as though he were about to kill someone. “Get up. I said get up!”

He would not take me. I was too shocked to stand up. He did not like me? Was there something wrong with me? Was I too ugly?

“Wine! Wine!”

I jolted. Quickly putting on my gown, I went to a nearby table. There I found another jug and filled it with wine.

He drained the whole thing and tossed it away. “More!”

I gave him another, and he drank again, streams of wine trickling down his chin. I had never seen him drink in such haste and without grace.

“You, all of you, are useless,” he said. His voice was as hoarse as though a fire had burned his throat, but the fire had died, and there were only blisters and scars.

I remembered the Noble Lady had mentioned that he had trouble doing his duty. So perhaps it was not my fault after all. But I still had something to do with it. I had failed to please him. If I were more skillful, if I were like Jewel, he could have taken me. I could not hold up my head.

“Tell me,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Are you a good liar?”

I wondered what he meant, and carefully, I said, “The One Above All, when I was a child, I studied Lao Tzu. He said that Heaven and Earth encompass all things in between, like a bellows, and nourish them with their abundance, whereas a man’s utterances would sound full and pleasing, but they would soon be spent.”

“Nonsense. Say what is in your mind!”

“It is better not to lie, and a man could always avoid it by keeping silent.” And if I must lie, I would lie only to my enemies, not to myself.

“Silent? I am asking you now.” He waved his arm, and beads of wine flew to my face. “Do you lie?”

There was fury in his voice, and I knew the fire would return if I did not comply. “It depends.”

He nodded. “This sounds more like you. Go on. Why do you lie?”

Because it was convenient and it provided protection, I wanted to tell him, but I said, “I don’t know, the One Above All. I only know that truth does not die, and we can’t live without it.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, the One Above All.”

“When you’re older, you will know not to talk to your emperor like this.”

“Yes, the One Above All.”

“We always lie. We lie to our servants, we lie to friends, we lie to enemies, and we lie to ourselves. Lies are like this jug of wine. We drink it constantly to keep our essence and to fight. Who daresay it’s not good for health?” He raised the jug. A drop of wine fell on a candle, and the flame spluttered. He did not seem to notice. “And truth, who cares?”

I did not know what to answer.

“If we lie well, if we get everyone to agree to it, if we lie until our death, if we lie for a hundred years, would you not say the lies are the truth?”

That argument sounded perverted, and I did not like it, but I had to agree. Truth had value only when people cared to know, but if people were fooled for centuries, if they thought they knew, who would ask to hear the truth? Likewise, if a person pretended for his whole life, putting on a kind face and hiding his darkest secrets until his death, would people not think they had known the kind person all along?

“The hard part would be the moment when you awake from wine. Then you see his eyes.” He pointed at no one in particular. “His dead eyes.”

He froze, his head cocked to one side, his eyes distant. It looked as though he was lost in an old memory. There was sadness—yes, I was certain of it—in his eyes, and his mouth twitched as though he could not bear the pain of it, as though he were about to cry. Then he punched the air, and his face changed. There was no sadness, only hardness and coldness spreading over his face like a mask.

“But he punishes me. He is trying to make me weak! It’s him! I know it’s him!” he bellowed. “He stares at me. He even calls out my name. ‘Shimin, Shimin.’ How many years have passed? I don’t remember, but I remember the truth I made.” He stabbed his chest. “My truth, and everyone believes in it.”

I was confused. So confused. What was he talking about? Whom was he talking about?

“Do not lie to your emperor.”

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