Maomao unable to sleep in the middle of the night, Emerald Palace — slipping out was purely by chance.
Tomorrow, Consort Shuku would leave the Inner Palace.
She had gone outside on a whim, wandering aimlessly. It wasn't quite freezing, but winter's chill had long since settled in, so she'd layered two padded undergarments before heading out.
As ever, the Inner Palace was brimming with unsavory displays of affection, and she had to be careful not to accidentally glimpse what was happening behind bushes or screens.
When she happened to glance up at the half-moon in the sky, Fuyou Princess came to mind, and on a whim she decided to scale the outer wall. She would have liked to make it a moon-viewing sake affair, but the Emerald Palace had none, so she gave up on that idea.
Viper wine — she was craving a taste after so long.
She planted her foot on a protruding brick at the corner of the outer wall and hauled herself up.
Her long skirt was something she needed to watch out for, or she might catch it on something.
It was not the most graceful ascent, but heights always felt wonderful—the moon and faint starlight illuminated the city. The bright lights in the distance must have been from the pleasure district. True to a night on the town, the flowers and the bees were surely beginning their whispered courtships.
Not intending to do anything in particular, she sat on the edge of the wall, let her legs dangle, and gazed up at the sky.
"My, a previous visitor?"
A voice neither high nor low reached her ears.
She turned around.
Wearing formal robes, a handsome young man stood there.
No, he may have seemed young, but that was Ada She had been a consort. Her hair was tied in a single knot trailing down her back, with a large gourd slung from her shoulder.
"No, it'll be empty, so—"
"No, come on, have a drink with me."
Shown the sake cup, Maomao could not find a reason to refuse.
Normally, Gyokuyou she would have held back out of deference to Consort Gyokuyou, but she was not so stuffy as to refuse the last evening drink in the rear palace.
She raised the sake cup in both hands and drank the unfiltered sake.
It tasted sweet, with low alcohol content.
Without saying anything in particular, she sipped away at her drink. Consort Ada was also drinking straight from her gourd with great gusto.
"I seem rather like a man, don't I?"
"You do appear to carry yourself as one."
"Haha, you're an honest one."
Consort Ada propped up one knee and rested her chin on it. Her well-formed bridge of the nose and eyes rimmed with long lashes seemed faintly familiar. Maomao thought they reminded her of someone, but her thoughts were muddled.
"Ever since my son was taken from these hands, I've been a friend to the Emperor. Or perhaps I simply went back to being his friend."
She didn't act as a consort, but stayed by his side as a friend.
As a childhood companion who had been with him since they were infants.
She never expected to be chosen as a consort.
She was only supposed to have been chosen as his first guide — nothing more than that.
That she had spent over a decade as nothing more than a decorative consort out of pity.
That she had wanted to hand things over sooner.
That she wondered why she had clung on.
Consort Ada's monologue continues.
Whether Maomao was there or not, whether anyone was there or not, it would have continued all the same.
A consort who would be gone by tomorrow.
No rumors swirling through the rear palace could matter anymore.
Maomao simply listened in silence.
When Consort Ada's words finally trailed off, she rose to her feet, turned the gourd upside down, and spilled its contents over the wall into the moat.
Watching the sake pour out like a parting gift, Maomao recalled the maid who had taken her own life just days ago.
"The water must have been cold."
"Yes."
"It must have been painful."
"Yes."
"
Fool , huh?"
"…Perhaps."
"Fools. All of them."
"Perhaps."
She understood, somehow.
That maid really had taken her own life, after all.
And Consort Ada must have known it all along.
When she said "everyone" — that included Fuumei She must be included in that as well.
Regardless of Ada's own wishes, there were those who would lay down their lives for her.
(What a terrible waste.)
She possessed both the talent and the qualifications to stand above others.
If she had been by the Emperor's side not as a consort, but in some other capacity, wouldn't governance have gone more smoothly?
Musing over such idle thoughts, Maomao gazed up at the white moon.
A large crowd of spectators had gathered at the main gate.
The consort who had been in the rear palace the longest— the original consort— was, unlike the night before, again wearing the voluminous-sleeved robe and trailing skirt that did not suit her at all.
Among the ladies-in-waiting around her, some bit their handkerchiefs to hold back their tears.
A consort with the bearing of a dashing young man—she must have been something of an idol to the young ladies-in-waiting.
Jinshi stood before Ada, receiving something. It was the crown that marked her status as Gracious Consort— the proof of her rank. But it was already decided that it would not stay with her for long before moving to another woman.
(They should just swap outfits.)
A celestial maiden's features and a dashing young man's features. Those two, which should have been completely different, somehow seemed strangely alike.
Last night, when Maomao had thought Ada resembled someone—it must have been Jinshi she was thinking of.
If Ada had been in Jinshi's position, what would have happened?
It was a completely pointless thought.
Ada's conduct had never been that of a pitiful woman cast out of the inner palace.
She stood proud and dignified, radiating an air of accomplishment, as though she had fulfilled her duty.
Before she knew it, an irresistible speculation had surfaced in her mind.
How could Ada have been so composed?
Without ever having fulfilled her duties as a consort.
"After my son was taken from these hands—"
Ada's words from yesterday echoed back.
(After he was taken away? Not after he died?)
Depending on how one interpreted it, it could mean he was still alive.
The reason Ada had been unable to bear any more children was that it overlapped with the Empress Dowager's delivery. The Imperial Brother and the consort's child would be uncle and nephew, and given that they were born at nearly the same time, they might have looked alike, like twins.
(What if they had been switched?)
During the birth, Ada would have felt it keenly in her bones—which of the two infants would be raised with care going forward.
If the greater protection lay anywhere, it would be with the Empress Dowager, not with Ada, a wet nurse's daughter.
Perhaps, with her poor recovery after childbirth, Ada had been in no position to judge what was right.
However, if the switch had meant that her own son was saved, that would have been Ada's wish.
If it had been discovered later— If it was after the real Imperial Brother had died— It made sense why not only her parents were exiled, but also received corporal punishment. They hadn't noticed the switch.
The Imperial Brother being cornered in such a difficult position.
The reason the noble Ada had continued to stay in the inner palace.
(Truly pointless.)
Maomao her head She shook her head.
It was an utterly ridiculous fantasy.
Jade Palace Even the three girls of the Jade Palace wouldn't jump to such extravagant conclusions.
(There's no point in looking any further.)
As Maomao turned to head back to the Jade Palace, she spotted someone approaching in a hurry from the front.
A young girl with a cute, childlike face— Risu.
The consort.
Without so much as noticing Maomao, she ran toward the main gate.
Behind her, the poison-tasting woman followed, gasping for breath.
And behind her, the remaining attendants trudged along with no apparent intention of running, looking thoroughly put out.
(Same as always. Except for one.)
There was nothing Maomao could do about it. These were family matters—if you couldn't sort them out on your own, there was no way you'd survive in this woman's garden.
Still, at the very least, she wasn't alone right now.
That alone should make things a little better.
When Consort Risu stepped in front of Consort Ada, she thrust out her right hand and right foot simultaneously in a puppet-like motion. She must have stepped on her hem, because she went face-first into the ground.
As the sounds of suppressed laughter came from all around, Consort Risu looked ready to burst into tears—so Consort Ada wiped her face for her with a hand towel.
The consort's face, so stoic and dignified it could pass for a young man's, looked like a mother's face.