by Zoey Gong
Yanmei leaves me and I do my best to sleep. The rain and thunder grow louder, and then softer again, and I toss and turn. Sometimes I feel light as a feather, other times I feel the weight of a stone on my stomach. I’m drifting, somewhere very near sleep but not quite there, when I feel a sharp pain deep inside. I cry out as I sit up and throw back the covers. I pull up my sleeping gown and cry out when I see it.
Blood…so much blood.
18
The midwife’s face is grim as she speaks in low tones to Nuwa. Yanmei sits next to me, her arm around my shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” I demand. “What happened to my baby?”
When I saw the blood, I panicked. I screamed. I thought I was going to die just like Empress Caihong did. Nuwa immediately sent for a midwife while she and Yanmei did their best to calm me down.
“Your majesty,” the midwife, a middle-aged woman I have never met before, sits on the bed, facing me, and pats my hand. “There never was any baby.”
“What?” I ask, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Your maid tells me that you never had any signs of being pregnant other than the lack of your monthly bleed, is that correct?” “Umm…yes,” I say. “But Nuwa told me that not all women have symptoms. That it was normal.”
“Yes,” the midwife says. “It can be. But pregnancy is far more complicated than many people realize.”
I rub my temple. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t believe you were ever pregnant,” the midwife says.
“Then why am I bleeding?” I ask. “Am I not having a miscarriage?”
“Your monthly has merely returned,” she says. “It appears a little heavier than normal, considering the months that were missed. But you were never with child, your majesty. I’m sorry.”
I feel as if the breath has been knocked out of me. I suddenly feel as if something has been taken from me, something very precious. My child. My own dear wanted—needed—child is gone. And this horrible woman is saying that there never was any baby to begin with.
Part of me believes her, knows that she is right. But by the same token, she must be horribly wrong.
“No,” I say. “No, I don’t believe you. Why would I suddenly miss my monthly for so long? One month, yes, maybe. That is why we waited to tell his majesty—” My voice catches in my throat. Honghui. He is going to be so disappointed. Tears fill my eyes, and if I keep talking, I fear they will break free.
“Things such as this sometimes happen,” the midwife explains to me. “During times of great stress. Or have you started eating or drinking something new? Some foods or teas can cause a woman’s monthly to stop.”
“You have been very stressed ever since…she arrived,” Yanmei whispers to me.
“I’m always under stress,” I snap at her. “You don’t know my life!”
Yanmei leans back as if I might bite her and her eyes go big. She’s clearly hurt by my words, and I regret that, but if a little stress was enough to stop my monthly bleed, then I should have stopped having it a long time ago. No, that can’t be what happened. I had to have been pregnant.
“I’m sorry,” I force out. “But you must be wrong,” I say to the midwife. “I must have been pregnant. Or there must be something else wrong with me.”
“I checked the blood,” the midwife says. “There is no…no sign of a baby. And it is not still trapped inside. There is nothing in your uterus other than a bit of blood, and that will pass over the next few days, I’m sure of it.”
“Then get out!” I yell. “You are useless to me!”
“Yes, of course, your majesty,” the woman says as she stands and bows her way out of the room.
“Shall I send for someone else?” Nuwa asks me as she nervously twists a handkerchief in her hands. “A physician perhaps? Or a different midwife?”
“No,” I say, my anger subsiding and giving way to grief. The tears I had been holding back start to fall down my cheeks as I come to terms with the fact that the midwife was right. I was never pregnant. I’ve seen miscarriages before. I know how bloody and painful and dangerous they are. Other than a little mild cramping that is typical for my monthly bleed, I feel nothing abnormal.
Yanmei puts her arms around me and hugs me tightly. “I’m so sorry, Daiyu. I know how important this baby was to you, to all of us.”
“How?” I manage to choke out. “How did this happen? I was so sure…so sure…”
She nods, her eyes glassy. I’m not the only person who lost the baby, but the entire court did. I look to Nuwa and see that she is wiping tears from her own cheeks. I reach out to her and summon her to my bedside. She collapses to the floor.
“I’m so sorry, your majesty,” she says. “I’m so stupid! This is all my fault. I should have known better.”
“No,” I say. “You were in earnest. You had no reason to think I wasn’t pregnant.”
“I shouldn’t have ignored the signs,” she says. “I mean, the lack of them. I should have realized—”
“Stop this,” I say. “None of us could have known. We were simply mistaken.”
There is a knock on the door and another maid sticks her head into the room. “My lady, Emperor Honghui is here. He heard that a midwife was summoned and is concerned for your well-being.”
I let out a heavy sigh. He’s going to be so disappointed with me. But there is nothing I can do to make the situation better.
“Send him in,” I say. I then dismiss Nuwa and Yanmei. I don’t wish to have an audience for such a personal conversation.
Honghui rushes into the room and sits on the bed, facing me. He takes my hand and kisses my cheeks.
“My darling,” he says, looking me over. He then looks at my stomach, but he seems afraid to touch it. “What’s happened. Did you lose the baby? I’m so sorry!”
“No,” I say stupidly. I wish I’d had time to think of a better way to tell him what has happened.
“So, the baby is all right?” he says, and I see relief flood over his face.
“No,” I say. “No. There…there never was any baby. I was never pregnant.”
“What?” he asks, sitting back, almost pulling away from me. “What do you mean you were never pregnant?”
“Just that,” I say. “I-I-I misread the signs. I made a mistake. I’m sorry.”
He lets go of my hand and turns away, resting his elbows on his knees, rubbing his face. “You made a mistake? How? How is such a thing possible?”
“My monthly had stopped,” I try to explain. I reach out and lightly touch his shoulder. “And that usually means that there is a baby on the way. But I never had any of the other signs.”
“Other signs?” he asks. He stands up and walks away, beyond my reach from my place in the bed where I lay like a sick woman. “So you should have known, then.”
“I…I guess so,” I say.
“You have the best maids,” Honghui says. “Access to the best midwives. You should have known. Should have made certain before telling me. What am I to tell the rest of the court?”
His words hurt like a knife in my chest. “That’s what you are worried about?” I can hardly believe what I am hearing. “You are worried about what to tell your advisors and counselors? What about me? What about our—” My words catch as I start to sob again.
“Our what?” Honghui asks. “Our son? There never was a son. You lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie to you!” I say. “I made a mistake. I would never—” I want to say that I would never lie to him, but that in itself would be a lie. Our whole marriage is based on a lie. All I have ever done is lie to him. But that is the only lie I have told. Everything else I have ever told him has been the truth. Other than the first lie, my great secret, I would never lie to him, never deceive him.
“You know me,” I say, trying to calm myself down. “You know how much I wanted this child. It was a mistake. An honest mistake, I swear to you.”
He shakes his head and looks away from me for a mome
nt. He seems calmer when he faces me again. “I…I believe you.”
“You do?” I ask hopefully. In truth, I’m not so sure. There is something in his tone that I can’t quite interpret.
“Yes,” he says. “But you must understand, I am worried about how the rest of the court will react. There are still people out there who think I should not be emperor. Who think that you should not be empress. A child—a son—would have legitimized everything.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I did not realize that we were still in a precarious position.”
“It’s not a serious threat,” he says. “I’m not going to be deposed. There isn’t really anyone to take my place. But some people at court just do all that they can to undermine me, to make things difficult for me. A child would put everyone in their place.”
“A child could still come,” I say. “We can keep trying.”
“Yes,” he says, forcing a smile to his lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Of course. We must keep trying.”
I open my mouth to say something else, but there is a knock on the door. Nuwa sticks her head inside.
“Lady Liling is here, your Majesties,” she says. “I tried to send her away, but she insists on seeing you both.”
I groan and don’t try to hide it. She is the last person I want to see right now. If it were anyone else trying to push their way into my room at such as time, I’d summon the guards and have her dragged away. But since it is Lihua, I have to be careful not to make her too angry. I look pleadingly to Honghui, hoping that he will send her away. She can’t retaliate against the emperor. But he misinterprets my look and tells Nuwa to admit Lihua.
“Your Majesties,” Lihua says, entering the room and then bowing to us. “I’m so sorry about what has happened. We had all hoped so much that it was true and a little prince was on the way.”
“Yes,” Honghui says. “It has been a disappointing morning.”
“I’m sure,” she says. “Which is why I have come, especially while the two of you are together. I thought it would cheer you to know that while the empress is not with child…I am.”
“What?” Honghui and I both ask at the same time.
“Yes!” Lihua says, her face beaming. “It is true. I am with child. More than a month gone.”
“Are you sure?” Honghui asks. It is clear that he is excited, but he is trying to restrain himself. He doesn’t want to be disappointed again.
“Yes,” she says. “I have all the signs: morning sickness, odd food cravings. I confirmed it with the midwife before she left.”
Honghui lets out a long sigh of relief and looks to the ceiling. “Thanks be to heaven!”
Lihua does not yet have a pregnancy belly, but still she puts her hands around her stomach protectively. “Are you not happy, your majesty?” she says to me.
In truth, I’m furious. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to jump out of bed and throttle her. How dare she bring such joyous news to me while I am still mourning the loss of my own child. I was never pregnant, I understand that, but I thought I was. I hoped I was. I thought that the symptoms would come. That I would soon feel the flutter of life within me that would confirm the belief that I was indeed pregnant. I might not have had a miscarriage, but I feel the loss just the same.
So, no, I am not happy. I am angry, and also fiercely jealous. I am the empress. I am Honghui’s wife. I am the one who faced death just to be here. I am the one who upheld the secret that Lihua and I carry for years while she was in hiding. I am the one who should be pregnant. I have earned it.
“Get out,” I mutter.
“What?” Lihua says as if she didn’t hear me.
“Get out!” I yell.
“But…your majesty,” she says as though wounded.
“Daiyu,” Honghui says. “This baby belongs to all of us.”
“Get out!” I yell again. I grab a pillow and throw it across the room at Lihua. Honghui catches it.
“I’m sorry,” Lihua says. “I thought the news would bring you joy, but it seems I am in error.” She bows her way out of the room.
“Daiyu!” Honghui says. “That was poorly done. Don’t you see? A baby truly is coming. You should be glad of it.”
“Don’t tell me how to feel,” I say, and I can feel hot tears slipping down my cheeks. Tears of anger and sadness. Everything is going wrong.
“Fine,” he says. “I will leave you until you are able to celebrate this pregnancy rationally.”
“Then you’ll leave me forever!” I yell at him as he leaves the room, slamming the door closed behind him. It was a stupid, hateful thing to say. The last thing I want is for a rift to form between myself and Honghui. But I can’t explain to him why I feel the way that I do without telling him everything, and this is certainly not the time to do that.
19
“It was an honest mistake,” Yanmei says, trying to reassure me. “It could have happened to any of us.”
“I know,” I say, trying, and probably failing, to disguise the bitterness in my voice. It has been a couple of weeks since I… I want to say since I lost the baby, but that is not what happened. It has been a couple of weeks since my monthly cycles resumed. Honghui has sent me gifts of jewelry and sweets and bolts of silk, and I have thanked him earnestly, but he has not summoned me to his bed, and I am not sure that I would go if he asked. I am not angry with him. It would not be fair of me to be so. But I am not ready to start trying to get pregnant again. In truth, I am not sure I want to have a child of my own. Oh, I understand the importance of a child, of the symbolism of one. If I were to fall pregnant, I would love it as much as possible. But I don’t feel the innate desire to give birth the way other women do. I didn’t feel it with Guozhi, and I still don’t feel it with Honghui. I thought that I would. That being with a man of my choice would change my feelings on the matter, but it hasn’t. In truth, I am content with being the mother of all the children born into the harem.
“I’m glad you’re not pregnant,” Dongmei says, not looking up from her paper cuttings.
“Really?” I ask, a little surprised. “Don’t you want a little brother?”
“Of course,” she says, still not looking up at me. “But I don’t want you to die.”
“Me neither,” Jiangfei says. Jiangfei looks at me with big, wet eyes while Dongmei stays intent on her work. I place my hand on Jiangfei’s back and kiss her head. The girls have still held me at a distance, but I believe their words are a good sign that they are learning to trust me again.
“That makes three of us,” I say. “I am content to be your mother.”
“Indeed,” Yanmei says. “Let other women take the risk of childbirth. You have enough to keep you busy.”
“My lady,” a maid says, rushing to my side and kneeling.
“Yes?” “Lady Liling is here,” she says. “She wishes to see you.”
“Of course,” I say. As she goes to admit my guest, I have another maid clear off the table and bring over another chair. I stand to greet Liling, but when I see her, I nearly fall back into my seat.
“How is that possible?” I ask Lihua.
“What?” she asks innocently.
“That!” I say, pointing to her stomach.
“Oh!” she giggles and puts her hands around the slight but clearly visible round form that has already developed. According to her midwife, she is only around two months pregnant. Even my own mother did not show until she was four or five months along.
“My son seems to be developing quickly,” Lihua says. “He will be healthy and strong, I’m sure.”
“Maybe it is twins,” Jiangfei says.
Lihua laughs again. “Two sons? That would surely be a blessing, wouldn’t it?”
“Truly,” I say through gritted teeth. But inside, my jealousy grows. Not jealous that another woman should be pregnant with two sons by my husband. If the prospective mother in question were Yanmei, I would be nothing but joyful. Truly, should any of my husband’s concubines
fall pregnant, I would celebrate more loudly than anyone.
But why should it be Lihua? Why have the gods blessed her after all the turmoil she and her mother have put me through? If she does have a son, she will become a rank-two consort. When Honghui dies, she would be considered my equal as the new emperor’s birth mother. In actuality, she would probably outrank me in the eyes of our son. I would become as Fenfeng, a mother in name only.
“I have brought you some tea, your majesty,” Lihua says, motioning for her own maid to come forward with a tray of tea things. The maid places them on the table and sets to work preparing the tea for us to drink.
“Thank you,” I say as I retake my seat, though I am not sure I can stomach anything right now. I’m not sure what it is, but I suddenly feel a bit nauseous. We were drinking tea and eating fruit before Lihua joined us, so I am sure it is not the tea that is making me feel unwell. It is surely Lihua herself that upsets me. Seeing her growing baby is surely not helping.
“Please, sit,” I tell her, motioning toward the empty seat out of politeness, not because I actually want her to stay.
“How are you feeling?” Yanmei asks Lihua. I am glad that, as my chief lady-in-waiting and rank-three consort, she is able to take the lead in being polite and chatty when I cannot. “You look well.”
“I feel fine,” Lihua asks. “Well, I mean, there is always a bit of nausea when I wake up, but that passes after I drink some hot water. And it is already becoming difficult to walk on my pot-bottom shoes. I am afraid I shall have to switch to slippers soon.”
“You should do so immediately,” I say more harshly than I intended, but I am earnest in my words. “We would not have you fall and risk injury to yourself or his majesty’s son.”
