Chapter Sixteen Now the Mist and Moon Entwine with Lament (I)

　　It is said:

　　From the splendid Hanyuan Palace, a fine union is born,

　　Smiles and silken robes fill the spring.

　　Yet when the Nine-Tailed Fox takes human form, calamity rises again—

　　For what reason, and for whom, is life given?

　　In the first year of Shangyuan (674 AD), in spring, Pei Judao’s birthday was celebrated, and Empress Wu went to extend her congratulations. At the banquet, grateful for her favor, Pei Judao presented his family to her. When it came to his beloved daughter, he said:

　　“This little girl of mine, Pei Qiuxue, has always been shy and not good with words. Should there be any impropriety, I beg Your Majesty’s pardon.”

　　Empress Wu replied:

　　“Minister, you worry too much. The young often lack understanding; what fault could there be?”

　　Having said this, she looked upon Pei Qiuxue.

　　What she saw was a girl with jade-like skin, radiant beauty, and graceful manners. Her face shone like polished silver, her eyes sparkled like apricots in water, her gaze was full of spirit, with narrow shoulders, a slender waist, and a tall, elegant figure.

　　Empress Wu, taken with this lively young woman, thought to herself:

　　“If the world holds such a one, she should be cherished as a consort.”

　　So she asked Pei Judao:

　　“Has your daughter yet been betrothed?”

　　Pei Judao answered:

　　“In reply to Your Majesty, she has had no match. No family has yet taken interest, which has caused both myself and her mother much worry, not knowing what to do.”

　　Empress Wu smiled and said:

　　“Then perhaps fate is at hand. Would your daughter be willing to become Crown Princess, consort to the heir apparent?”

　　Pei Judao was stunned, then stammered:

　　“My little girl is unworthy—how could she dare to aspire so high?”

　　Empress Wu replied gently:

　　“In matters of affection, there is no need for such words.”

　　She turned to Pei Qiuxue:

　　“The Crown Prince is a fine young man—does Qiuxue have affection for him?”

　　Pei Qiuxue, blushing, glanced shyly at her parents and whispered:

　　“Let my father and mother decide.”

　　Seeing this, Pei Judao understood her heart and said:

　　“Then, all shall be as Her Majesty wills. I only do not know the Crown Prince’s mind—but if such a marriage could be, I would gladly play matchmaker.”

　　Empress Wu said:

　　“Since you have spoken thus, I shall ask the Crown Prince myself.”

　　The next day, she summoned Li Hong and said:

　　“My son, since the Crown Princess passed, you have been alone. Though your father and mother are by your side, still in times of hardship no one comforts you, in sickness no one tends you. Yesterday at Pei Judao’s banquet, I saw his daughter—graceful, intelligent, and radiant. I thought she would suit you well. Their family too is willing. What say you?”

　　Li Hong, touched by his mother’s concern and relieved of past suspicions, replied:

　　“Since mother has thought of me, how could I not be willing?”

　　Hearing this, Empress Wu was delighted and immediately ordered that an auspicious day be chosen by the Daoist priests in the Hall of the Three Pure Ones.

　　Soon the chosen day arrived. In Hanyuan Palace, lanterns and banners were hung, drums resounded—festivities abounded. Amid the clamor, Crown Prince Li Hong rode forth with his guards to fetch his bride. Through the streets of Chang’an the procession passed, and all the people craned to see. At Lin De Hall, Emperor Gaozong, Empress Wu, the princes, and the court waited in ceremonial robes.

　　After several hours, the prince returned with his bride. With a muffled thud the bridal palanquin was set down, and all eyes turned. From it stepped the Crown Princess in scarlet wedding robes. Minister of Rites Yang Sijing stepped forward, bowed, and proclaimed the nuptial edict:

　　In early spring, beneath golden skies,

　　On this blessed day, Heaven grants this union.

　　Within the halls of Hanyuan, fate is sealed.

　　May they grow old together, as birds paired in flight,

　　Never parted, joined like fish and water.

　　When the edict was read, Yang declared:

　　“The hour is auspicious—let the great rite begin.”

　　Li Hong led his bride into the hall, where they performed the bows to Heaven and Earth. Having received blessings, the bride was escorted to the nuptial chamber, and Emperor Gaozong held a banquet in Lin De Hall, with music composed by Ming Chongyan.

　　Yet Pei Qiuxue had long been possessed by the Nine-Tailed Fox. Failing to find clues outside the palace, it returned within. But in time, genuine affection grew between Li Hong and Qiuxue; he cherished her dearly. Truly:

　　Fate is not fate, but the weaving of human hands.

　　Knowing not human intent, yet love arises in this world.

　　One day, when Li Hong was weary from affairs of state, Qiuxue brewed tea and said tenderly:

　　“Your Highness labors day and night—I feel such pity. My father once told me of the Tui Bei Tu, the prophecy left by the founding grand astrologer. Why not follow it? Then your burden might ease.”

　　Li Hong laughed:

　　“Qiuxue knows only half. First, prophecy is but foretelling—affairs still require men to act. Second, the Tui Bei Tu remains with the national preceptor. Father and mother have sought it often, but he has always refused. It is no simple matter.”

　　Qiuxue, hearing this, thought secretly:

　　“So, it lies here! No wonder I searched in vain elsewhere.”

　　That night, when Li Hong slept, Qiuxue rose and cast her spell. Her hands moved, light gathered around her, forming into a mouse with glowing red eyes. It darted from the palace into the wells, and pestilence spread. The fox within her sneered:

　　“If this plague strikes down the Li clan, my vengeance is done. If not, it shall still confuse them, hiding my true pursuit of the Tui Bei Tu.”

　　Leaving a sliver of spirit within Qiuxue to control her body, the fox itself slipped away to the Xuanyuan Temple in search of the prophecy.

　　By dawn, plague spread through the palace. Little Princess Li Lingyue, frail and young, fell ill first. The physicians misdiagnosed it as a common chill and prescribed medicine. Lady Shangguan Wan’er dutifully prepared it, but after days, Lingyue grew worse.

　　Empress Wu summoned the chief physician Liu Shenwei. Before he could speak, she scolded:

　　“Days have passed, yet the princess shows no sign of recovery—why?”

　　Terrified, Liu thought:

　　“If I admit error, I am guilty of incompetence; if I invent excuses, I am guilty of deceit.”

　　Pressed, he said:

　　“The medicine requires more time—within three days, she will recover.”

　　Empress Wu warned:

　　“If not, you shall pay with your life.”

　　Panicked, Liu returned to the medical bureau, wrote a tonic prescription for Wan’er to prepare, and hurried off to seek his master Sun Simiao’s aid.

　　Wan’er, meanwhile, tried to feed the decoction to Lingyue. The child, weak and pale, whispered:

　　“Sister Wan’er… am I going to die? I have yet to see my benefactor…”

　　Tears welled in Wan’er’s eyes. She blew gently on the hot medicine and coaxed:

　　“Drink this, little moon. Get well, and then we shall seek your benefactor together.”

　　Lingyue sipped a few mouthfuls but soon cried:

　　“It is too bitter, I cannot drink more. Next time, please?”

　　Wan’er, fearing for her frailty, set the bowl aside:

　　“Then rest for now. When you regain some strength, you can finish it.”

　　The child lay back, staring through the bed-curtain, lost in memories of the young Taoist she once met.

　　Meanwhile, Crown Prince Li Hong, anxious after days without improvement, resolved to act. Rising early, he hastened his duties, then rode swiftly from the palace to the West Market. He had heard from his brother Li Zhe that a confectioner there made Lingyue’s favorite—cherries with cream.

　　Arriving, he found his three brothers—Li Xian, Li Zhe, and Li Dan—already there. Each chose a sweet:

　　Li Hong received cherries drizzled with secret cream.

　　Li Xian a sugared pastry shaped like mountains.

　　Li Zhe a delicate translucent cake stuffed with bean paste, named “Hidden Blossoms.”

　　Li Dan a cherry piroshki, the red fruit gleaming beneath thin dough.

　　The brothers marveled at it, teasing:

　　“Brother Dan, such a treasure tempts us!”

　　Frightened, Li Dan quickly hid it:

　　“This is for Lingyue—hands off!”

　　Together, the four brothers carried the sweets to Xianju Hall. Wan’er received them and, rising from her bow, caught sight of Li Xian. Her heart trembled—never before had she seen such grace. Though born in the palace, she had known only the stern emperor and the strict crown prince. Li Xian’s warmth was new to her. He smiled; she blushed and lowered her gaze.

　　Lingyue, overjoyed, rose weakly to greet her brothers. In the confusion, Li Xian’s hand brushed Wan’er’s. She pulled back quickly, cheeks aflame. He apologized:

　　“In haste, I meant no offense.”

　　She stammered:

　　“Your Highness is too kind.”

　　To ease the moment, Li Hong produced the sweets:

　　“See what we have brought you, Moon.”

　　Lingyue’s eyes lit up. She tasted each with delight.

　　Soon she asked:

　　“I want to see a shadow play.”

　　At once, the princes set up a stage. Li Hong played Lü Bu, Li Xian Guan Yu, Li Zhe Zhang Fei, Li Dan Liu Bei. Behind the curtain, Wan’er beat the drum. Though she tried not to, her eyes stole again and again toward Li Xian, whose calm black gaze reflected her own image.

　　The battle of the “Three Heroes against Lü Bu” unfolded, swift and fierce. Though she knew it was play, Wan’er’s heart pounded with worry.

　　At length, Emperor Gaozong and Empress Wu entered silently, watching with joy. The little princess, after tasting a few more sweets, fell asleep peacefully. The play ended by nightfall; the princes collapsed in exhaustion. Wan’er hurried to help them rise, blushing again as she touched Li Xian’s hand.

　　Together, they greeted the emperor and empress. Wu asked Wan’er about Lingyue’s condition; she answered honestly, and Wu’s joy turned to sorrow. Gaozong immediately decreed:

　　“Whosoever cures the princess shall be rewarded with a fortune and promoted in rank.”

　　As they withdrew, Wan’er lingered at the doorway, gazing at Li Xian’s departing figure. She whispered to herself:

　　“Is this the benefactor Moon longs to see?”