Title: The Jade Princess

Genre: Romance, Historical Drama

Ratings: All ages

Part: Seven/Seven

//

Summer. June 5, 657.

The sky paints itself a murky grey, ominous black clouds swallowing all the white ones in its midst. Deep rumbles of thunder echo through the inwardly tumultuous city of Chang’an to aggravate lighted fires before extinguishing them whole. It is the beginning of the end and the end of the beginning; no conclusion rushes the impatient and no starting waits for the patient. There are only smudged jade pieces waiting to be polished and white doves waiting to be released, and only then will Chang’an be free.

Qian stows away the newly-washed robes before the rain begins to fall. This year’s summer doesn’t begin very pleasantly, and for a moment she wonders if the sun will ever make an entrance. To think she had spent the past twenty-three years chasing every other season but summer; now summer seems to contemptuously envelop the city with its convolutedly appropriate revenge. She’s taken too much for granted and there’s no more light to shine past the rain.

Amidst the distressing weather, Qian thinks of Jiaheng. She hopes he doesn’t get wind-chills, she hopes he will rest well and eat well, and she hopes that despondency doesn’t get the better of him. So this is what it’s like to be in love, she thinks to herself. It’s so cliché, so brainless, but it provides her with warmth on a cold day. The acid rain erodes the soil and tarnishes good jade, and the jade seems to lose its iridescence. Warmth is like jade these days – difficult to acquire but priceless when acquired.

Whilst Qian enervates herself with the ghosts of the past, Sunyoung carefully treads over the wooden plank and plops herself next to her sister-in-law. They’ve never been bosom buddies but they both know what it feels like when love debilitates them. Indirectly, Qian is a foe. But Sunyoung isn’t one to contend, and she doesn’t intend to. Better to have friends than foes, having foes may reap more benefits but there’s no security, no compassion, no care.

“It’s cold, Qian-jie. You shouldn’t be sitting out here. You’ll catch wind-chills,” Sunyoung advises thoughtfully.

Qian chortles in response, “Then you shouldn’t be here either, Sunyoung. Getting sick will only decrease your chances of getting pregnant.” She tries to lift the tension off them by nudging Sunyoung teasingly, but the attempt becomes so blatantly futile. “I’ve heard Mother’s been nagging since she’s not yet gotten a grandchild.”

“I don’t think I’d like to have a child yet,” Sunyoung sighs. “Mother won’t carp too much after a while. She’s glad you’re home,” she pauses abruptly and tries to smile. “We’re all glad you’re home.”

This sickening feeling wells up at the pit of Qian’s stomach, regurgitating over and over. She had been entrapped in her little cocoon of pretended amour so perpetually, that all memories of her family, the family that has been waiting for her, sadly erased themselves and dissipated as dust. The sad truth glares at her – a girl who chased nothing yet left behind everything.

“I’m sorry, Sunyoung,” Qian mutters.

Sunyoung knits her brows together, “Qian-jie, why are you apologizing? You don’t have to. At least not to me. Besides,” she inhales, “I don’t blame you for what you did. You fell in love, like most women in Chang’an do. I don’t think it’s wrong.”

“Falling in love with a person who’ll never love you back,” Qian says bitterly, “is almost useless. You’re chasing the sort of love that you’ll never catch, wanting happiness that you’ll never acquire. You’re left behind with nothing.”

Sunyoung, bless her soul, rests her hand on Qian’s and gives her a comforting look.  “I don’t know much about love, Qian-jie, so maybe I’m not supposed to give you advice. But just know that as your younger sister-in-law, I want you to be happy with whatever choices you make in the future. And if things don’t work out, you can always come home.”

“How do you wait, Sunyoung?” Qian blurts, “How do you manage to keep waiting?”

Sunyoung shrugs good-naturedly, “It’s a part of life to be patient, I guess. Waiting’s not that hard if you’ve done it long enough. If you’ve got something to wait for, then waiting becomes worthwhile.” She pats Qian on the back, “I’ll wait for you too, Qian-jie. You’ll come back soon.” It’s not mocking, it’s not sarcastic; it’s somewhere between genuine kindness and love, and for Qian who’s been deeply deprived of it, Sunyoung effectively strikes her chords.

Qian’s insides begin to corrode, and Sunyoung wraps her in a soft embrace before her tears cascade down her cheeks.

//

Summer. June 7, 657.

Love between Luhan and Yoona is outwardly defined to be rebellion against the stringent society they live in, rebellion against every damn moral they’ve both lived for, and rebellion against time. Sibilant gossips circulate the palace swifter than news of death and destruction, and all repeat the same – the empress has begun a forbidden relationship with her lowly subject. Seasoned scholars elucidate with flowery prose of ‘a breach of moral conduct’ and ‘a sin against the heavens, sin beyond sin’. The Yoona of the past would be suffocated by chagrin, but the Yoona of the present doesn’t bat an eyelid.

Simply put, she doesn’t give a damn.

Barely paying heed to preposterous remarks, Luhan and Yoona instead begin a battle against time. They treat each second like a gold coin, cherishing each moment to the fullest with leisure walks in the garden, endearing banters and somewhat chaste skin contact. They delve deeper into each other not with physical contact but with five-hour conversations. Conversations about palace politics, about Chinese history, and sometimes about some unfulfilled desires they have. And during the remaining hours, they’ll sit next to each other, let their fingers touch, let their cheeks be suffused with light crimson and sometimes laugh at how audacious they’re being. Time isn’t very generous but they make the most of it, and to them, that’s all that matters.

They are two people who have spent their lives chasing nothing. They’ve filled life with unnecessary excuses, unnecessary hurt and unnecessary veneers. When gazes are exchanged, love allows all those unnecessary objects to dissipate. All Yoona has to do is rest her head on his shoulder and for him to clasp her hand in his, and they realize they’re just left with simple contentment. And for two idiots who’ve never been satisfied with all they’ve acquired, it feels good to let contentment satiate them.

Another day is spent at the pavilion, where Luhan copies edicts and Yoona blows flower petals to his face. She laughs blithely at his occasional scribbles, she reads the words aloud to , and he laughs too. He chides her, tosses the flower petals back at her and some stick to her hair. He tells her that she’s beautiful and she tells him that he’s an idiot. They laugh some more and affirm that yes-

Their simple love defines simple happiness, and yes they’re happy like that.

Not-too-far away, Jiaheng watches with his eyes nearly bulging out of his sockets. What had been a depressing, hazy hue of dark blue dissolves and ignited is a flame of deep maroon. The grassy meadows and tranquil oceans become battlefields with mutilated limbs and blood strewn on top of dried sand. Little arrows continue flying at him, stabbing his heart viciously and letting the blood trail down his chest. Jiaheng doesn’t bother to stop the bleeding.

“Are they having an affair?” Jiaheng questions, his eyes glinting dangerously. “How long has this been? How long have they…”

Minseok bows, “Your Majesty, I hardly stick my nose into the matters of Her Highness.”

“You serve her!”

“But I’m not her confidante and don’t wish to act as one,” Minseok replies tactfully. “I am not in a position to spread false rumors about Her Highness. Perhaps Your Majesty could ask her.”

Minseok’s cautious decline causes Jiaheng to grit his teeth. He is numb to nails piercing through skin when his fists clench, and when he realizes he’s drawn blood, Jiaheng wishes he could draw his blood.

Luhan’s blood.

//

Summer. June 8, 657.

Luhan’s late. He dashes through the corridors and hopes that he’s faster than lightning. The rain’s coming, and thank god he’s spent the earlier hours tactfully clearing up his scrolls or Yoona would be the one to do it. It distresses him to keep letting her do things for him, because he’s pretty sure she’s done enough and he hardly gets chances to reciprocate her actions. Time runs faster than he does, however, and there’s never enough damned time for him to-

“Madam Choi, Officer Xi has arrived,” one of the servants announce, and Luhan bolts in. His feet practically screech to a halt, and he rushes to tidy his tassels before the statuesque lady turns her head.

Sooyoung chuckles, “You’re early.”

“Nice sarcasm, Sooyoung,” he responds, and the servants clamber out of the room. “It’s not my fault I got held back. Work’s rather demanding nowadays, and even Yoona-“ he pauses, remembering who he’s speaking to. “Her Highness,” Luhan corrects, “is beginning to chide me for tardiness as well.”

She nods in acknowledgement, folding the few robes that are strewn on the table. The sitting room of Sooyoung’s residence is immaculately tidy, with her knick-knacks and quaint ornaments stowed in the wooden boxes at the corners. Luhan finds it unusual but he’s heard the news about her leaving, and thus doesn’t further question. He knows not to rub salt into wounds.

“You do set your priorities straight,” she remarks.

He raises his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

Blatantly avoiding his eyes, she gently places the neatly folded robes in boxes. “The whole palace is buzzing about your relationship with Her Highness. Initially I was surprised that you both would be so bold, but your audacity isn’t exactly unfamiliar,” she teases, and he responds with a snort. “On the contrary, I’m glad that you’re taking it seriously. At least you’ve finally found someone.”

“I don’t really expect your support, Sooyoung,” he replies wittily, a little too wittily for his own good. “You’re being chased out of the palace because of her. I know about that, and the whole palace knows about that too. Your aversion towards her doesn’t come as a surprise either.”

His words are pointedly harsh, but Sooyoung swallows them down complaisantly. “I’m not emotionally affected by what Her Highness has done. I won’t berate you for it. It’s not that unscrupulous. Knowing you, I doubt you both would commit certain deeds behind closed curtains.” She whips her head around and gives him a kind smile. “To a certain extent, I trust you, Luhan. You’ve got faith in your own decisions and you won’t do anything morally wrong.”

“To a certain extent?” He bursts out in cheerful guffaws. “I’d expect more from a childhood friend.”

“Glad you still consider me as one.”

He’s oblivious to the tartness of her words, and continues naively, “And so, why have you summoned me today? I suppose you have a few last errands you need me to run before you leave the-“

“I love you.”

He stops dead in his tracks. “What?”

“I said, I love you,” Sooyoung murmurs. “That’s all I needed to say.” Sullen silence ensues, and the temperature takes an infuriated dive down.

Amidst the haunting coldness and the unmitigated vitriol that consumes her, Luhan begins to get chills both physically and emotionally. His mind conjures ghastly images that seem improbable to him, yet at the same time his suspicions lurk, engulfing him whole. The satin curtain, the wooden tables and the hardwood floors begin to crash down, and the serrated pieces assemble, constructing a painting of horror, an apparition of death. 

“You can leave now,” she tries to break the silence. “I just needed to say that before I left. You seem like you need to go to Her Highness, right? Might as well go now-”

He brushes past her, towards the door leading to her bedroom. With a ferocious kick, the door gives out and crashes to the ground with a deafening bang. He sweeps his gaze over the uncannily empty bedroom, trying to catch signs of- His pupils dilate.

Hanging from the ceiling is a long piece of cloth, tied at the end to form a sort of noose.

“What the , Sooyoung,” he spits out, whirling around. Her fingers are quivering and the remaining robes are splayed on the floor.

“It’s for the best,” she mutters inaudibly, but he catches every word.

“What do you mean? It’s for the best? The best for who, Sooyoung? You? You kill yourself in the palace, let the whole world know that you’ve been driven to suicide and you think that it’s for the best? Oh, so that’s the better way of dying? Keeping your body in one piece and receiving bloody pity from everyone else?” Luhan rambles on unstoppably, his voice ringing with violent acrimony. “Oh god, Sooyoung. I didn’t know you were this selfish.”

Tears brim her eyes. “I’m not doing this for myself! I don’t care whether I die in one piece or not, but I care about everyone else-“

“And how’s your family going to react to this, huh? You think they’ll be all fine and happy after you die? You think you’re going to lessen the burden on their back? You’re a part of your family’s noble lineage, Sooyoung. You’ll be tarnishing your family’s reputation and your deeds are going to be etched on every damn page of their future history. You think this will be an easy way out for everyone and that the palace will compensate your family’s losses? You know the ing palace better than I do, Choi Sooyoung. You-“

“I’m doing this for Qian, for myself and for… you.”

Luhan’s brows are knitted together, his expression contorted with distress. “What?”

“Qian isn’t exactly safe though Mi has arranged for her to move to Jiao’ao. The palace never truly releases a person that it has its hands on. And you, you actually think that your life is safe just because Her Highness favors you? Being with her, you’re putting your life on the line.” Sooyoung pauses, inhaling slowly to steady herself. “If I die, it will make an impact so big that Her Highness will be prevented from causing other deaths in the palace. For the first time, there’s someone who takes her own life instead of waiting for her life to be taken from her.”

“But Sooyoung-“

She heaves a sigh, and the tears trickle down her cheeks. “For the twenty years of my life, I’ve been useless, Luhan. His Majesty never favored me so there’s nothing much for me to bring back to my family. I while my days away making useless embroideries and engaging myself in useless gossip with the other concubines. I’m superfluous; Luhan, no matter where I go I will be superfluous. But if I go out of this earth, lives will be spared. There will be people who realize that these deaths have to stop occurring. And for once, I won’t be worthless anymore.”

“Your life will be lost, Sooyoung. Your death won’t be for a good cause. You’re not superfluous and you’ve never been-“

“You’re just saying nice words,” Sooyoung dismisses. “Even to you, I’m superfluous. In your eyes, the only girl there is to love is your beloved empress, isn’t there? Now, I shouldn’t be wasting your time. You don’t have all the time in the world to entertain someone you don’t love and don’t care about, and you don’t give a whether I live or-“

“Sooyoung, stop it,” Luhan hisses. “I care for you, and I do give a ing about your life. You’re going to stop bullting right now. You’re going to pack up and move home, or move somewhere else to live a happy life. You’re going to write damn letters to me and I’ll visit you whenever I can. That’s how things will pan out. That’s how-“

“I’m sorry, Luhan,” she interjects softly. “My mind’s set. You can’t change anything.”

He feels like his stomach is being squelched, his insides imploding. And everything comes hurtling back all at once – the times they’d romped around the meadows when they were kids, the times they’d bicker relentlessly and neither would win, the times they’d sit and have long conversations about the most trivial things. Sooyoung may not be the one his world encircles, but she is one that is part of his world.

“Please go out now,” she orders. “I don’t want you to watch this. I want you to remember the girl who stepped on your feet to be able to see the coronation. I want you to remember the girl who laughs over the stupidest things. I want you to remember the girl who teased you about love and smiled when you fell for someone else.” She stops and then places her hand on his. “Don’t remember this wreck of a woman… Don’t remember today. Don’t remember the me you see today. Please don’t.”

His fists begin to tremble. “No, Sooyoung. No.”

“Please.” And she begs him for the very last time.

Soon, the tears stream down his cheeks as well and his initial cheerfulness completely dissipates into the air. “I’d let you step on my shoes for the rest of my life, Sooyoung. I’d be willing to help you see everything you can’t see on your own.”

She wraps him in a warm hug. “You don’t have to, Luhan. Do it for the one you love, and I’ll be happy.” She releases him and gives him a weak push towards the door. “You and your stupid head,” she repeats, and he’s momentarily transported to the past. “You’re blocking me.”

“Don’t fall,” he whispers.

“Don’t catch me,” she replies.

He reluctantly steps out the door and he closes it. Regrets nauseate him, stripping his veneers bare. He wants to turn back time. Turn back time and make time for her. Listen to her fears and her sorrows and her humorous words. Bask in warm autumn and honey gold leaves. And maybe fly kites. They’ll watch coronation after coronation, let the palace politics be mere figments of all that doesn’t need to be understood. She’ll step on his feet and they’ll bicker nonsensically all day long. They’re friends and when you screw up, there’ll still be that one friend standing there, calling your screw ups triumphs.

He stands at the doorway; he hears fearful gasps and steady heaves. He clenches his fists even tighter, and he begins to hear time pass. One, two, three – the seconds pass brutally, painfully, and he wishes they could pass slower, just a little slower-

No more breaths.

Luhan’s too late.

//

Summer. June 9, 657.

The arrow slashes through the air, whizzing past the feeble-spirited eunuchs and piercing the cloth. Jiaheng shot a bull’s-eye, and the people within the vicinity begin applauding, showering him with exaggerated accolades. Yoona’s mind drifts far away, so when she agitatedly pulls the arrow backward and lets it dive, the string cuts through her flesh and the arrow pierces white cloth. The magnitude of the impact is large – she nearly ends up on her knees.

Jiaheng demands cloth from the servants, concernedly wrapping Yoona’s injured fingers with it. Her eyes glint fury into his, “My lord, you mock me. You wound my pride with triumph and bandage my wounds. It seems that you have acquired a sense of humor.” Her words are silky, yet highlighted by unmistakable disdain.

“I would not dare,” he replies. “It is hardly funny to see you hurt.”

“Oh, really? You mock me again, my lord. I hope you are satisfied.” Acerbity contains her, and pierces him deeper than the arrows pierce cloth. The servants retreat at the signals of impending storms.

Jiaheng’s chest rises, then falls. “I hope you’re satisfied, Yoona.”

“What are you trying to imply, my lord?” It isn’t a question. Rhetorical.

“Madam Choi committed suicide,” Jiaheng relays bluntly. He doesn’t bother to don any armor. “She told me she would leave and I consented. I did not predict that she would take her own life,” he sighs. “Too much bloodshed has enveloped the palace, my Empress. Do you desire it to continue?”

She laughs caustically, “My lord, it is a wonder that you still ask me this question!” Her expression becomes livid. “If misleading words could result to another death, this time it is your defeat, my lord. Excuse my boldness, but I suppose this matter hardly concerns me. It concerns you and your inadequate psychological skills, my lord. I doubt I can aid you with any of that.”

She pushes him to forbidden limits, and he pulls her close before she can dart away. “Your affair with Xi Luhan is not exactly unknown, Yoona. Madam Choi used to fancy Xi Luhan, and her servants have circulated that.”

“You trust rumors over your own wife?”

“When the situation exacerbates, there are certain consequential, stereotyped routes of thinking,” he responds, drawing her even closer. “I saw your head on his shoulder, Yoona. Right now the servants’ words seem more credible than yours. In whatever situation, I will listen and believe you but not now. Not right now.”

Yoona glares viciously in return. “I could care less whether you believe me or not, Jiaheng. I don’t give a damn about this entire matter. You touch a single hair on Luhan’s head and I will ensure that you can’t even step into court. Watch me.”

“I’m the Emperor of Tang, Yoona!”

“And I’m the Empress! Would you like to contend?”

Jiaheng is rendered speechless. “…Infidelity is a crime. You can be executed and deposed!”

“Fine,” she seethes. “Then I’ll drag you to hell too. We’ll both burn in hell. It’ll be a bloody beautiful war.”

Hatred burns in Yoona’s eyes, and she wrenches her hand off his. Never mind if the world presumes her to be a devious vixen manipulating and misusing the power whirling in her palms. Li Jiaheng has been playing Yoona’s strings for the seven years of their marriage, and she will not be his puppet any longer. To hell with rules and regulations. To hell with the damned monarchial system. To hell with formalties. She’ll make her own damned rules and she’ll live by them.

Jiaheng doesn’t know who hit the bull’s-eye.

Before Luhan leaves for the funeral, he drops by Yoona’s residence. There are fumbling palms, urgent kisses and afterwards she gets to properly revel in the warmth. It feels so dangerous, so haphazard and so not Yoona. He deadpans about how exhilarating it is, but they both know that ‘exhilarating’ is probably the last adjective they should be utilizing. Time’s running away and the building pressure is pounding them both. End, end, end – the chanting doesn’t cease.

“Will you take this to her family?”

She hands him a clothed pouch; the weight is exceedingly unfamiliar to his hands. “Why are you taking responsibility for her, Yoona? It doesn’t concern-“

“Please tell them that this amount will be given to them each month,” Yoona continues. “Directly or indirectly, her death is my fault. I hurt you, Luhan.”

“Yoona-“

“Don’t forgive me,” she tells him. “Then you can leave the palace. Then all of this can end.” Her whispers become croaks and it makes her entire chunk of words translate to blatant opposites. Luhan stops her before tears flow like waterfalls and morbid wails enshroud the warmth.

He holds her hand tightly, “You know I can’t do that.”

He locks her in a warm embrace and lets her lie in his arms until she falls asleep. He carries her to her bed, tucks her underneath the thick blankets before heading towards the door. He earns an admonishing glare from Minseok but trudges away without hurtling defenses.

There’s no more time.

.//

Summer. June 10, 657.

Qian’s heart is jabbed by swords when her eyes latch upon the wooden coffin. Her insides are regurgitating then set aflame, burning remorse and producing dismal ash. She can’t even open because she doesn’t want to remember the last few words she said to Sooyoung. Half-hearted apologies for a full-blown betrayal, that’s what it was. In hell’s eyes, Qian knows she’s probably deader than Sooyoung.

She hears Luhan’s unintentional coughs; she spins around, grabbing him by the collar and shakes him violently, like it would shake the remorse ou