The Moon in the Palace (The Empress of Bright Moon Duology)(2)

His long sleeves waving, Father showed me the undulating land that stretched to the edge of the sun—his land, my family’s land. “Will you promise to safeguard our family’s fortune and honor?” he asked me, his eyes glittering.

Clenching my fists, I nodded solemnly, and he laughed. His voice melted into the warm air and echoed on the tops of the distant cypresses.

The pleasure of pleasing him wrapped around me when I caught a pair of yellow bulbous eyes peering out of the bushes. The forest fell still, and all the chirping and rustling vanished. A shower of leaves, fur, and red drops poured down from the sky, and a scream pierced my ears. Perhaps it came from me, or Father, I was not sure, for everything turned black, and when I came to my senses, I was at the table with Mother and my two sisters, eating rice porridge with shredded pork.

One of our servants rushed into the reception hall, his chest heaving and his face wet with perspiration. There had been an accident, he said. Father had fallen off a cliff and died.

On the day of his funeral, a feeble sun blinked through the opaque morning haze that hovered above the mountain tracks. Slowly, I walked toward his grave. A blister broke on my toe, but I hardly felt it. In front of me, a priest wearing a square mask painted with four eyes hopped and danced, and near him, the bell ringers shook their small bells. The tinkling faded to the distant sky but lingered in my heart. Desperately, I searched my mind to find any clue that might hint at the nature of Father’s death, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not remember the details of the day he had died. I knelt, my face numb and my hands cold, as the hearse bearers pushed Father into the earthen chamber, burying him.

I thought my life was over. I did not know it had just begun.





2


When we returned home, a group of men waited in front of my house, their torches roaring in the night like flaming trees, and the black smoke stretching in the sky like the shadowy cobweb of a monstrous spider.

I recognized the magistrate, wearing my father’s hat. My heart sank. He had taken Father’s position. I knew the law well. No matter how much Father loved me, I was not his son, and thus I could not inherit his governorship. But there had to be another reason the magistrate was there. I stopped Mother and my two sisters, holding them close to me.

“Old woman,” the magistrate said to Mother, his hands on his hips, “take your worthless girls with you and get out of here.”

I could not stand this man or his utter disrespect of Mother. I stood before him. “Do not speak to my mother like this. If anyone needs to leave, it’s you. This is my home.”

“Not anymore.” He sneered. “It’s mine now. Everything belongs to me: the house, the treasure, and all the gold. Now, I order you to get out of my sight.” He waved, and his men lunged toward us, pushing us to the road.

“How dare you.” I struggled, trying to free myself from the arms that clamped on my shoulders. “You scoundrel!”

A sharp pain stabbed me as the magistrate drove his fist into my stomach. I was stunned. No one had ever struck me before. I dove toward him and kicked with all my might. But another blow fell on my back, and I tumbled to the ground, my vision blurred with pain. For a moment, I could hear only the echoes of loud slaps and my sisters’ frightened cries. I shook my head and struggled to rise, because at that moment, I saw that Mother, her hand on her face, fell beside me and gasped. Instinctively, I leaned over and wrapped my arms around her, shielding her as more blows rained down on me.

? ? ?

Finally, all the kicks and commotion died off, and the gates of my home closed behind me. From inside came loud laughter and cheers.

Our servants came to us, all one hundred of them, bearing sacks on their shoulders. They helped me sit up, and then one by one, they bowed, weeping miserably. As they turned around to leave, I watched them, a lump in my throat. I had known them since I was born and called them aunts and uncles, but they had to leave. It was just as the proverb said, “When a tree falls, wretched monkeys have no choice but to scatter.”

Pushing back my tears, I turned to my mother and sisters, who sobbed beside me. I held them, trying to comfort them, and I swore I would protect them and take care of them, but I knew there was nothing I could do to take back our home. I could beg the nobles who had served Father to help me, but the greedy magistrate, whose words were law, was their superior, and no one would dare to defy him.

I did not know where we could stay either. All the family members on Mother’s side had died in the war, and Father had no relatives in Wenshui. I could ask to stay with neighbors, but we would be like beggars, relying on people’s charity. In the end, Mother said we should go to Qing, my half brother, who lived in Chang’an, the city where Emperor Taizong’s great palace was located. The eldest son from Father’s previous marriage, Qing was a greedy gambler who hated me and the last person from whom I would seek help.

But I decided to listen to Mother. We would go to Chang’an, for once I got there, I would seek every opportunity to see the Emperor and beg him to return our house and belongings to us.

The night grew cold. We huddled together under a tree to keep warm. I was hungry, exhausted, and my body was sore from the beating, but I could not shut my eyes as the night’s wind whipped my cold face.

At dawn, Mother sought out a traveling caravan that passed our town and paid them with my jade bangle. Together with my two sisters, I limped to the carriage and climbed in.