Title: The Jade Princess

Genre: Romance, Historical Drama

Ratings: All ages

Part: One/Seven

//

Year 650

Chang’an exists as the halcyonic capital of the Tang Dynasty. The empire is rising in prosperity, and it is said that when a dynasty heads towards its peak, it will begin to disintegrate. Surrounded by enemies – the neighboring Eastern and Western Goturks, the Mongol tribes, and the Tibetan Empire, the Tang is thrown into jeopardy of being torn down during its most prosperous period. Amidst the tumultuous war with Goguryeo, the adroit Tang Emperor swiftly forges a concord of marriage with Shilla, to rid the empire of a possible new threat. Chang’an thus hostilely welcomes a young Shilla princess to marry the Crown Prince of Tang. But with a merger inimically formed, they fail to foresee the future pandemonium that would engulf the entire capital.  

 Spring. February 2, Year 650.

“Don’t let go of my hand, Qian!”

She indistinctly hears her brother’s voice over the rumbles of the rambunctious, teeming throng that has formed along the town square, haphazardly swarming in every little corner possible. With her height, she cannot contend with them for the view of the impending procession, so she tightens her grip on her brother’s hand, attentively following behind his every footstep.

They stop in between an elderly couple and a bunch of the neighborhood children, who deliberately back off when they see the jade bangle around Qian’s wrist. She bows politely, but they do not reciprocate her thankful gesture, dashing off quickly before she can befriend them. “Why are they running?” she asks her brother innocently, puzzled by their palpable evasion. “Do they hate us, ge?”

“Social ranking, Qian,” Mi replies briskly, concerned that his elucidation would upset her. “Not everyone can possess jade.”

Qian’s initial expression is contorted with perplexity and doubt, for she has not been a part of the aristocratic society long enough to conform to each of its petty whims. Mi may be her soi-disant brother, but he tolerates her blatant detachment and constantly attempts to patch up the differences between Qian and society. So Qian makes herself comprehend his words. 

“Oh,” she nods, acknowledging his answer. She sweeps her curious gaze over the crowded town square, her inner inquisitiveness heightening. “Why are there so many people, Mi-ge? Are they all waiting for the Crown Princess to arrive?”

Mi chuckles blithely, his patience accustomed to the unending number of innocuous questions she would shower him with. “Well, it’s not every day that a princess comes to the city, Qian. The royal family stays within the palace, usually.”

“And they don’t go out?”

“Nope.”

“What if they want to buy things like rice and jewelry?”

“They order their servants to buy it for them.”

“But aren’t they curious of what’s outside?” Qian continuously prods him with her questions. The curiosity of a sixteen year old girl could not be subdued, after all. Her days are boring and repetitive; she gets grooming classes from day until night, teaching her how to embroider silk and how to wrap dumplings – Qian’s enthusiasm is no longer amplified by that. “Don’t they get tired of seeing the same things over and over again in that diminutive palace? Don’t they want to see the world?”

“Well, the palace is a huge place,” Mi begins, scratching the back of his head to invent a rational explanation. “Qian, some people have the world in their hands. They don’t need to see it to know that they have it.”

Before she can pound him with another question, she hears shrill bells, the sonorous sound of trumpets and drums, and the raucous cheers of the mob. She whips her head to the right, latching her eyes upon the approaching procession. She sees a procession of people all dressed in matching beige silk, carrying flags with a word she distinctly reads as ‘xin-ra’,  trudging through the dirty, ridged pathway, flanked by crowds of the townsfolk. 

There is a carriage transported by four stocky men, and when it passes her, Qian catches a glimpse of the girl inside. Young, much younger than her; with raven-black hair and milk-white porcelain skin, rosy-red cheeks and peach-pink lips. Clad in precious silks and rare jewels, her beauty is more radiant than the items brocading her. Despite merely obtaining a glance, Qian cannot deny that the girl is beautiful, a visionary of beauty.

But in the girl’s eyes is an ocean of desolation; deep, dark desolation that masks her beauty in a veil of melancholy. The atmosphere becomes strangely rigid, and Qian grips her sleeve for warmth though there are no cold winds blowing past her.

“Is that the new Crown Princess?” Qian manages to ask, after the noise subsides.

Mi nods, his eyes still focusing on the back of the procession. “They say she’s only thirteen. Comes to Chang’an with her entourage but not her family.”

“The Emperor of Shilla cannot even leave his palace to attend his daughter’s wedding?”

“Like I said, being in the palace, being on top of the palace is like having the world in your hands, Qian – you can only get out when they force you out. And when that time comes, you can’t go back in.”

She only catches a few of his words, and the rest of her attention is fixated on the leaving procession. “I want to go to the palace one day. I want to ride on that carriage and have people carry me everywhere I want to go.”

“You’ll have to be a princess, Qian.”

“I will!” She jocundly dangles her jade bangle in front of him, twirling around childishly. “I’ll be a princess, the jade princess!”

Mi laughs at her puerile statement; but for Qian, it becomes a dream.

//

Spring. April 29, 652.

Qian feels her feet float through the dusty air; the stalls of corn silk, dumpling skins and coarse sand paper all seem to fly past her, and it takes her a moment to realize she has sprinted through the bustling wet market. Her eyes dart to her left, to her right, scanning the hoard of people for one stringy, brown-eyed man- Ah!

“Ge!” she shrieks, bounding towards him. When he fails to acknowledge her scream, she raises her pitch, squealing past an agitated flock of cabbage farmers. “Ge! Mi-ge!”

His ears perk up, and the next second, she catapults into his unsuspecting arms. “Qian!” he exclaims, indubitably astonished at her untimely arrival. “I told you to stay at home, Qian,” he admonishes, narrowing his eyes at her skeptically whilst remembering her earlier promise. “There’s no way I’m allowing you to accompany me to the palace.”

“But Mi-ge, you said I could come with you to deliver the jade pieces-“

“No ‘buts’!”

“Qian!” A shrill call momentarily divert their attention away from each other, their eyes latching upon a dark-haired, olive-skinned and cherry-lipped young maiden a few years younger than Qian. Draped over her shoulders is a fox-fur cloak and sewed to her slippers are iridescent little pearls. Yet she runs; as unbecoming as it is, she runs. “Qian, I nearly lost you in the crowd! Why d’you have to be so tiny?”

Mi arches his brow questioningly, “Sooyoung? Why are you here? Didn’t Lady Choi organize for you to have painting lessons today?” His tart reminder causes guilt to flit through her eyes, before a cheeky, rueful little grin forms along the contours of her lips. Mi’s pupils dilate in exaggerated horror. “If she finds out you’re with us, she’ll skin us alive-“

“Ssh!” Sooyoung stabs a finger to his lips, glaring warningly into his eyes. “I am not ever painting another stupid lily flower in my life! I took all the trouble to get Sunyoung and Jinri to cover for me, so you’re not going to foil my plan again!”

“But you’ll be getting into a lot of-“

Qian bats her eyelids and gazes at him sweetly from underneath her black, dark lashes. “Please, Mi-ge?” She clasps her hands together, eventually causing Sooyoung to mirror her actions. “Come’on, take us to the entrance, just the entrance? We won’t follow you in; I promise!”

Her witty negotiations coupled with his complaisant nature do not have a very satisfactory product – he reluctantly agrees with his lips curved into a frown. “You will be the death of me, Qian. If Mother slices us, I’ll make sure you get sliced first!” He trudges forward but still turns back to ensure that Qian is following close behind.

Two naïve, exhilarated girls trail the footprints of the stripling young man, cherubically pointing and giggling at every little object their eyes fall upon. A dove lapping water from a shallow puddle, a magpie stealthily stealing a ruby, a handsome musician fiddling with his worn erhu, a seasoned soldier taking a swig of rice wine; they see nature’s contrasts basking in the daylight, and Qian wonders whether she too, is a part of it.

They reach the towering stone walls of the palace before sundown. Sooyoung has become restlessly fidgety and her interests are not piqued by the intricate carvings on the near the entrance nor the embossed halberds arming the guards, but Qian’s eyes are latched to the double doors, the brass handles, then the sky; she wonders if the sky is the same on the other side.

She maintains her composure but the gleeful, exuberant little girl within her squeals. Fascination creeps over her mind and the desire to enter the ‘forbidden’ palace intoxicates her. Mi stands staunch and firm by the entrance, looking at her expectantly. Qian knows she has to leave but not yet, she does not want to leave yet.

“Go home,” Mi orders, creasing his brows and pointing mercilessly towards the road back to the house. Sooyoung tugs on Qian’s sleeve – Sooyoung is disinterested, no, she has no fondness for the palace. It seems formidable in her eyes and she wants to go home. “Qian, you promised me that you’d go home after we reached the entrance.”

Qian bobs her head, complying with his strict order, but she stands there and stares a while before she takes a step backward. She inhales slowly and sweeps her gaze over the fluffy, white clouds on the sky. Her gaze reaches the top of the looming walls, and she silently makes a wish.

One day, I’ll be in there, she tells herself.

I’ll see how the sky looks like on the other side.

//

Winter. January 15, 654.

Beneath the cowl of the night, Qian stares at the stars. Her perception of stars being the source of hope shining on the vulnerable human beings below has not changed, not even the slightest. She counts the stars- One, two, three, and then she carries on, her tone laced with sanguinity, until her breath finally hitches and she gets tired of counting. But she’s happy; she’s reached an uncountable number, and that would probably mean that hope would be perpetual.

She needs hope, not for her but for the man who has his hands wrung, burying them deeply in his crimson robes. She shuts the hanji windows and throws a pointed glare at her brother. “Go out there, ge,” she prompts him eagerly. “They’re all waiting for you!”

“It’s not too late to run, actually.” His statement leaves her gaping and she prods him impatiently, clawing viciously at the hems of his robe to force him up. “Qian, Qian- Don’t do that.” He wrestles her hands away from him, before the cloud of severe solemnity returns to his expression. “Being married isn’t a trifling matter, Qian. I don’t even know this girl.”

“All the marriages in the kingdom happen like that! What you’re doing right now is going against filial piety, that’s what it is,” Qian deadpans, demonstrating her ability to be pensive. “And you do know her, you do; you’ve just never bothered to interact with her, that’s all.”

He emits a coarse, bitter laugh, “You’re always on Sooyoung’s side.”

“Sunyoung is Sooyoung’s baby cousin, after all,” Qian shrugs her shoulders, shrugging off her momentary pensiveness as well. Realizing she might seem complaisant, she quickly adopts a grim glare to sway him from his socially-unacceptable intents. “Marry her, Mi. Or I won’t forgive you. Ever. I’ll burn all those beloved books of yours and I’ll cut all ties with you. I will. I really will. Don’t laugh!” She clouts him when he bursts out in peals of laughter at her futile attempt at conforming to austerity. “I’m not kidding!”

He doesn’t heed her warning and more laughs, bickers and warnings swirl around the room; Qian clamps a hand over his mouth to ensure that suspiciousness do not creep over the people waiting outside. And then they stare at each other, having one another reflecting in their deep, dark orbs.

Care. Concern. Adoration. Fun. Quibbles. Inky brushes. Jade bangles. Green meadows. Fragrant chrysanthemums. Burnt porridge and “you burnt your own zhou!” – It all hurtles back into her mind like rocks being catapulted, and then she wonders what life would be like with her brother married to someone else. Adoptive or not, he’s still her brother. And they’ve shared all of the warmest moments she’s had in her life.

“I want you to be happy, ge,” she tells him, earnest laden in her eyes. “Sunyoung’s the sweetest girl I’ve known. She’s sweeter than any other lady in Chang’an. I can vouch for that!”

He gazes at her, before heaving a defeated sigh, standing up and pressing a kiss to her smooth, dark waves. “Nothing will change between us. You know that.