Chapter Text
“My Lord, how long shall I expect your absence?”
“I’d like to assure you that it won’t be long... but given that my general is requiring assistance, I cannot say,” says Luo Binghe from atop his throne. “Mingyan, I trust you to look after the harem while I am away, as usual.”
Liu Mingyan cups her hands and bows in acknowledgement to her husband’s words. As Head Consort she is given minor authorities over the harem, such as settling and judging disputes, and if need be, dispatching mild punishments to parties involved in said disputes.
Luo Binghe, Emperor of the Human and Demon realms, was leaving to join his general, Mobei-Jun, in battle against the forces of a purist rebellion that refused to swear fealty to a half-blooded ruler.
“Yes, my Lord,” Liu Mingyan answered. Luo Binghe didn’t have to leave the palace very often, but even when he did, little difference was felt to Liu Mingyan. Many a shrill complaint could be heard carrying through the halls from various pining wives, who were called to the Emporer’s bedchambers twice a quarter, or if they were highly favored, once a month, but to Liu Mingyan, whether her husband was here or lightyears away, life continued as normal.
As to why this was the case is to one puzzling reason: her husband never indulged in intimacy with her.
Out of nearly one hundred wives who satisfied Luo Binghe’s voracious sexual appetite, he had never once attempted such a thing with Liu Mingyan. In fact, the only physical intimacy she had ever received from him was the occasional chaste kiss, never lingering for long.
At first it had really bothered her. She wasn’t blind to her own attractiveness; she knew where she stood in beauty amongst the harem, so she had never questioned whether or not she was desirable, but only as to why her husband seemingly deemed her unfit for her marital duties. Years later, as Luo Binghe grew colder and more enigmatically enamored with his past shizun—or at least, what remained of him—she found herself utterly dispassionate of their lawful relationship, simply spending most of her days sparring with her martial sisters, training alone, and fulfilling a sort of management role amongst the girls.
“Mingyan wishes the Emperor a safe excursion,” she bowed again as Luo Binghe pulled his cloak around his shoulders and took Xin Mo in hand. He replied with a disinterested hum before flicking open a portal and stepping into it, and just like that, he was gone.
Liu Mingyan’s lip curled in distaste as she raised herself from her bow. What an unpleasant man her husband had become! She turned and strode through the elaborate double-door entryway to the throne room and made her way to the gardens.
It was fair weather in the Demon Palace, with plenty of delicate flowers and pink buds covering the pale-bark trees. The spring was still young, so when the breeze blew, it carried a slight chill. This pleased Liu Mingyan. With her ice affinity in cultivation, she wasn’t too fond of hot temperatures.
“Greetings, Consort Liu,” came a mocking and coquettish voice from behind her. Liu Mingyan had nearly had enough flower-induced catharsis to recover from Luo Binghe’s rude dismissal, but hearing this tone of voice… It was clear that she hadn’t suffered enough disrespect today.
“Good day, Consort Sha,” she replied curtly without turning around.
“Aiyah! I’ve told you to call me Ling-er so many times; this one’s feelings will be hurt! Fellow wives should be filial, no, Mingyan?” Sha Hualing sneered.
Liu Mingyan let out a tired sigh. She and Sha Hualing’s relationship was unusual in that Mingyan was indifferent towards her and Sha Hualing was incessantly sending mixed signals. Liu Mingyan really couldn’t tell if she was jealous of her and her position as Head Consort, or if she was just bored and habitually liked to push others’ buttons. The former would make more sense; Sha Hualing felt herself deserving of the title as she was the most frequently called upon by Emperor Luo. However, just when Mingyan thought she had her figured out, she would turn around and offer to fix her hair, play chess together, or prepare her a breakfast that always went uneaten out of suspicion.
Liu Mingyan didn’t like Sha Hualing entirely because she was neither likeable nor unlikeable.
“Consort Sha… I will not mince words with you. I’m not in the mood for games at the moment, and unless you absolutely need me for something, I’d like to be left alone.”
Now Liu Mingyan had a voice as soft as the winter sunrays, but still filled with the confidence and firmness of an immortal cultivator, and a woman who is sure of her position. Somehow these properties were supremely effective in gaining respect from anyone she talked to, simultaneously placating and chastising the addressed party.
A sly smile spread on Sha Hualing’s scarlet lips.
“Hmm… Ling-er understands. I do hope you get to feeling better, Mingyan,” she said flippantly. “I will leave you to your introspection, but I’m sure Consort Liu will not neglect to pay me a proper visit later,” she said, and with that, she swept away.
As the patter of bare feet and the tinkling of small bells and jewelry grew quieter, Liu Mingyan let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, and her shoulders visibly relaxed, thankful that Sha Hualing was ready to let the matter go so easily. Of course, this atypical action could be explained by the expectation of compensation by Liu Mingyan to visit her later. Of her own volition.
Probably not.
Liu Mingyan continued her stroll through the palace gardens, her deep, silver gaze scanning the various spring blossoms. Myriads of yellow narcissus, white snowdrops, and generous splashes of violet crocus and hyacinths, all resting under the proud and gentle canopy of plum and peach blossoms.
Liu Mingyan broke into a soft smile. She was a woman of combat, a serious person, and generally found garish clothing and adornments to be distasteful, but she had always loved flowers ever since she could remember. To this very day, few things could bring her peace in the way that flowering plants could.
When she’d had her fill of the gardens, she followed the winding pathway back into the palace halls for her midday meal. The harem, being so extensive, had its own communal dining hall. She heard they were serving pork buns today and Liu Mingyan never missed a chance to eat pork.
She arrived early, wanting to grab the food at its peak of freshness. A handful of other women were also there early—probably fellow pork lovers—and their playful discussion was interrupted by a cough, then abruptly changed to unconcerned whispers as soon as they spotted Liu Mingyan walk in with her flowing amethyst robes. (She had been dressed to send off her husband; normally she dons a much more practical robe with silk pants, allowing her mobility.) Her robes were further embroidered with lavender lotuses, and elaborate accents of winding, white threads to depict flowing water. Her hair was done up in her signature style: two braids on either side of the face joining at the back in a braided half-bun, resting atop the remainder of her sleek midnight hair, like a silk curtain down her back. In front of her bun was wedged a simple silver comb, adorned with a single tasteful sapphire in the center, and pinned to her right side braid, a small clip of a silver dragon. Complete with the veil draping off the bridge of her nose and covering her lower face, she made quite an unapproachable image.
She was long used to the effect her presence had on the ladies in the harem. Never mind; she didn’t really care to be a part of frivolous discussions or senseless laughter.
There was, however, one face that never ceased to laugh with her, or greet her in mirth with that dazzling smile and uplifting countenance.
“A-Yan!” Ning Yingying chirped brightly before skipping over to sit next to her. “A-Yan, did you know,” she lowered her voice as if sharing a secret, “they’re serving pork today!”
Liu Mingyan couldn’t help but grin back at Ning Yingying. This girl would always be her sweet little shimei, no matter how many years may pass.
“Yingying, good day. Yes, I did hear,” she said fondly.
“Oh,” Ning Yingying’s smile drooped, deprived of the joy of giving her shijie some pleasant news. The disappointment didn’t stall her for long, though.
“A-Yan, the seamstresses are coming this afternoon. We get to pick patterns for new robes! Hmm, I wonder if they’ll have one with swans on it. Swans would suit you, A-Yan!”
Oh. Liu Mingyan had totally forgotten this troublesome detail. She’d be happy if she was picking out patterns for new training outfits, but the seamstresses would no doubt plop piles upon piles of intricate robe designs in front of her, filled with frills, brocade, and embroidery, and utterly unfit for anything of interest to her, while she would get an earful of comments like, “Ah, it is improper for the Empress to be dressed so casually!” or, “Deary, you don’t need to cultivate anymore, you should focus on the fine arts; every woman of your status is at least expected to be versed in the arts!”
“A-Yan? A-Yan?” Ning Yingying’s voice snapped Liu Mingyan back to the present.
“Yes?”
“Do you have anything in mind for your new robes?”
Liu Mingyan smiled with her eyes, a skill she has perfected, allowing her to fake a big bright smile at anyone at any time, being that her lips and cheeks are always covered.
“I’ll have to wait and see. What about you, Yingying?”
Liu Mingyan halfway listened to her excitedly chatter about all the colors, fabrics, and birds she wanted to add to her wardrobe as the servants came out with the clattering trays of pork buns and clear-broth soups, setting a bowl of peanuts between them to share. If Liu Mingyan was listening to her shimei at all before, she definitely wasn’t anymore as she lost herself in the taste of her meal.
Of course the chefs would have to be superb at the palace. Luo Binghe’s promise to “cook for them every day” gradually became void, and as the harem grew it was apparent that some chefs were in order. Naturally, cooking for the Emperor of two realms, who happened to be a master cook himself, was left only to the finest chefs in the land.
After they finished their meal, Ning Yingying waved goodbye and skipped off with the Qin sisters, leaving Liu Mingyan to herself. She retired to her room and decided against changing out of her better robes, in hopes of convincing the seamstresses that she’d turned a new leaf, and needn’t hear all their complaining.
She took to her unfinished embroidery—a simple scene of a crane upon a white handkerchief. Xian Zhu peak did not teach the arts aside from poetry, believing it a waste of time for any girl training in cultivation, so Liu Mingyan had recently tried to pick up embroidery, music, and painting, in attempts to fill her free time.
Embarrassingly, it really wasn’t her niche.
She could never get the spacing right on her embroidery. If she sat down to paint she would inevitably cut the session short, frustrated over her clumsy and crude brush strokes. Sometimes she would sit down with her guqin, a beautiful and fine instrument, truly fit for royalty, and pluck a tune out. Music she didn’t mind quite as much, though she would often break a string pulling it too hard.
As she thought, she was much more fitted to slicing her sword through the air—to feeling against her skin the crystals of ice Shui Se left in its path. She was born to be a cultivator. Somehow when she married Luo Binghe, she didn’t think that would end. She never thought she would find herself here.
She finds palace life to be banal and meaningless. There are countless villages calling upon cultivators for exorcisms, for beast and demon exterminations, and for other matters. Liu Mingyan misses being someone’s hero. She misses being the peerless and respected beauty of the cultivation world, striking down her foes with grace and ease.
What could be so bad about being Empress of the realms?
What is good about it?
For her, there is no merit. She wants to fight evil. She wants to save the helpless. She wants to contribute to a cause again. Sometimes she wonders what would become of her if she requested to leave the harem. What would Luo Binghe do?
She daren’t ask herself this question too seriously. Despite the lack of affection in their marriage, she has a gut feeling that Luo Binghe would never let her leave. Besides, as much as she wants to go back to her old life, she isn’t sure that she could stand to start over. Life as a lone cultivator is, well… lonely. At least at the palace she has Yingying and a scant few other women that are capable of having a polite conversation with her without being overcome in trepidation.
After a couple hours of piddling with her sure-to-be-doomed embroidery, she hears a knock upon her door.
“Consort Liu, the seamstresses have arrived,” says a eunuch outside the door.
She sets down her project, unsure of which is less appealing to her at the moment.
“Send them in,” she says.
In a few minutes the bustling ladies burst through her door and escort themselves up to her tea table with excited mutterings. They plop down, expectedly, papers upon papers of patterns in front of Liu Mingyan.
“Consort Liu, please have a look at these; they are our newest drafts, perfect for the spring months!”
“Consort Liu, this robe would suit you perfectly, we can even add some cranes!”
“Esteemed Consort, do you prefer haitang or apricot blossoms?”
“Consort Liu!....”
And so Liu Mingyan desperately tried not to pinch her brows together as two hours of fussing over which colors and cuts were more fashionable finally passed her by. In compromise, she chose a few white brocades, subtle blue and purple robes of simpler styles, and one fancy black robe covered in gold designs, using up far too many yards of fabric to be sensible.
Her training robes were getting really worn. Maybe she could find a seamstress somewhere that would make her a few simple, white or purple, more practical options. Better yet, maybe she could buy them ready-to-wear from a small shop.
Just kidding. She wasn’t permitted to leave and enter the palace without the Emperor’s explicit permission, and that was unlikely. Luo Binghe really wasn’t doing well these days. He seemed listless and elsewhere. Sometimes he would break out in hysterical laughter for no apparent reason, and it was beginning to be concerning. Liu Mingyan has to believe visiting that excuse of a living person chained to the ceiling in the dungeon so often just can’t be good for his health. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’d start taking his meals down there soon.
Liu Mingyan sighed and went back to the dining hall for dinner.
Just like that, another meaningless day passed doing absolutely pointless and unimportant things. As she made her way back to her room, maybe to sit down with a book and have tea, the unmistakable noise of bells caught her ear, and a curvy figure clad in draping red gauze and silk filed in beside her.
“I hope you are feeling quite better, Consort Liu,” Sha Hualing says, again, with a hint of some sort of subtle mockery. Maybe it just sounds that way because she’s the one saying it.
“Yes, thank you, Consort Sha,” Liu Mingyan replies brusquely. She’s still worn out from all the energy the seamstresses siphoned from her, and she’s just not ready to deal with Sha Hualing. Not tonight.
“Ling-er is glad to hear this,” Sha Hualing’s inflections roll smoothly, a masterful impression of true concern. “she looks forward to visiting with Consort Liu this evening…presumably later, after our food has settled?” It’s more of a statement than a question. Liu Mingyan ignores her and turns away in the direction of her room.
“Well then, Consort Sha,” she dismisses herself before gliding away several more meters and disappearing into her bedchambers.
Sha Hualing quietly giggles and turns away with a much less graceful canter. That bitch Qiu Haitang challenged her to chess and thinks she can win. She’s got business to take care of before Liu Mingyan comes to see her later.
Liu Mingyan puts down her book and calls for a servant to ready her bathwater. There’s a communal hot spring, for those socialites like her shimei, but she always prefers the privacy of her own room.
There, she feels comfortable to remove her vale, too. It’s not like she has to hide her beauty from others in fear of enchanting men. There’s no danger of that in the harem. Liu Mingyan is aware that she’s blessed in terms of looks, and being that most ladies despise her for her position and her lofty attitude, she doesn’t feel like lifting the veil would do anything but arouse more jealousy and hatred.
After the servants have brought the hot water and been dismissed, her handmaiden works on getting her out of her elaborate robes, which she is more than ready to shed.
Ruan Jiao, her handmaiden, is a respectable young woman. She is scarcely younger than Liu Mingyan, but very cultured, talented, and demure. Her soft, sienna hair was woven into a simple, thick side braid. The color of her hair greatly complimented her round, dark brown eyes, always filled with warmth and a mysterious air of understanding. She was a sharp girl and would make decent company if Liu Mingyan knew how to talk to others better. At the least, she didn’t mind her presence.
Perhaps the most pleasant thing about Ruan Jiao was that she didn’t fear Liu Mingyan.
Ruan Jiao hummed a happy tune as she carefully removed the comb and ornament from Liu Mingyan’s hair, setting them back in a jewelry box across the room before resuming taking down her mistress’s hair. Once Liu Mingyan is left in her inner robes, Ruan Jiao excuses herself from the room.
Liu Mingyan sheds the last of her robes and sinks down into the fragrant bathwater, feeling the heat sink into her muscles. She allows herself a contented smile. She’s chosen to use a lily soap for the evening—a strong and sweet scent.
As the bathwater cools and reminds her how long she’s been soaking, she reluctantly gets out, dries off, and dresses in her sleeping robes.
She’s so relaxed. Forget about Luo Binghe. Forget about harem life. For today, pork buns and a bath have fixed all her problems. She’s pretty sure she could fall asleep right now.
Liu Mingyan yawns and slips into her sheets, laying her head, finally, upon the soft comfort of her pillow.
Oh, she forgot to turn the lights off.
She gets up to put out the candles when she hears a ruckus outside her door.
“Consort Sha, you can’t just go inside! The Consort Liu has already retired!”
The eunuch’s efforts obviously failed as the door bursts open and Liu Mingyan is faced with an irate Sha Hualing.
“Mingyan! You never visited me! It’s unlike you to lie! Did you not consider that I might have been waiting for you all day?” She huffed.
Liu Mingyan just stared in annoyance at her. She supposes she should have known her night couldn’t end that peacefully. She sighed deeply and pinched her brows.
“Consort Sha—“
“Ling-er!” she reminds.
Liu Mingyan’s eye twitches.
“Ling-er,” she grits out, “I don’t recall having lied to you.”
Sha Hualing gives her an incredulous look.
“You said you would visit me today.”
“I said nothing of the sort.”
“What? You dare deny?”
“Out of my own mouth, when did I say that I would visit you?”
Sha Hualing opens her mouth to retort, then stalls for a while. She widens her eyes in a brief moment of realization before anger overtakes her again.
“I can’t believe you! Then why didn’t you say you wouldn’t visit? Mingyan… you played me!”
Liu Mingyan is so done with this interaction—so done with Sha Hualing right now. She just wants to go to bed. What good will explaining do when this girl gets angry? There’s really nothing to explain anyway, aside from the fact that she didn’t want to previously explain, which is why she never verbally told her no.
“Consort Sha, it’s late. We’re both tired, I am sure. I would appreciate if you would allow me to retire for the night. You, too, should retire.”
“You!—“Sha Hualing stops and looks Liu Mingyan up and down, some sort of realization dawning on her features. Her cheeks flush slightly, much to Liu Mingyan’s bewilderment. What is she doing feeling awkward seeing her in her sleeping robes? Liu Mingyan is pretty sure she’s been in multiple orgies with Luo Binghe and his other wives.
Oh, right, she’s not wearing her veil. Maybe she’s flushed because she’s overtaken with a new jealousy and anger against her for her beauty. Whatever, she really doesn’t care that much.
“Fine. Be that way. Liu Mingyan, you heartless woman!”
Sha Hualing whipped around and jingled away muttering under her breath as she passed an already kowtowing eunuch, to whom Liu Mingyan quickly assures that everything is okay, and not to resign.
As the door closes again she puts out the candles and lies back in bed.
Except this time, she’s not sure she can fall asleep.
Liu Mingyan, you heartless woman!
She’s not sure why that phrase keeps playing over and over in her head, and even less sure why it sets off a sting in her chest.