Little Princes Fuguo and Kaitao had more than doubled their birth weights. They knew how to roll over, and when they were arranged to sit up they could stay in those positions without support. They reached for and sometimes held interesting things. They played and mimicked facial expressions. They rolled around on the floor, often with a woman rolling around with them.
And, despite how coarse and inelegant as it was, Miseo and Wen both had moments where they rolled around with the babies. Often, Miseo would bring her own little child to the Ginger Steam Palace, and she would also roll around with the babies.
Miseo even told Eunhe, "It's good to live well with your little brothers. Remember to protect them, and perhaps when they're older they'll be able to protect you."
Wen was absolutely thrilled. She could regularly see her children again. She was certain that they even recognized her face and voice. But what secretly repeated in her mind was the fact that the Emperor still didn't come to the Ginger Steam Palace. Whenever he wanted to visit the baby boys, he'd purposely tell Miseo to make sure they were at her palace.
Wen had no right to be upset that he didn't want to see her. But she worried that thanks to his personal insistence on not seeing her, the Emperor would spend less time with his little princes. It was a legitimate concern.
Certainly, she shouldn't be upset about not seeing the Emperor.
She shouldn't ...
And yet ...
On some hours, instead of practicing dancing or writing, instead or playing a zither or working on some embroidery, Wen stared out a window and held one of the Emperor's boots in her lap. She'd tug on the strings. She'd pinch the leather tongue. She'd run her thumb against the tough, ridged bottom.
And a peculiar aching was in her heart. Empty but not unfeeling, more like ... raw from scratching. She couldn't think of another way to describe her emotions.
She thought of the Emperor holding her hand. Putting his other one on her belly. Laughing at something she said. Walking with her somewhere. Asking about her writing. Tranquilly smiling down at her. Kissing her. Holding her. Whispering unbelievably inappropriate things. Moaning her name.
Wen knew she was now the sort of woman that pined and hoped, gazing out a window, waiting for what would never come.
Miseo once had a servant pull a chair near Wen, and she sat down. Closing and pinning a flap of her thin coat, Miseo looked out at the garden outside and said, "I remember when that shoe was fresh and crisp. I saw it on the Emperor's foot years ago."
A sparking kind of pain popped in Wen's chest and her face heated. But her back straightened.
"I suppose it's very sensible for that shoe to be haggard and forgotten," Miseo sighed out.
Wen nodded.
Haggard and forgotten.
Very sensible indeed.
It was going to happen eventually.
Wen had known it, had expected it, had accepted it.
And yet, there was a pressure in her fingers, visibly making indentations in the boot's material.
***
Miseo purposely invited the Emperor, the Empress Consort, and little Princess Masami to come to her Morning Dew Palace. Tea, cakes, music, and dancing on a patio, all that was the apparent lure. Miseo's adorable Princess Eunhe had grown a little bit this year. She was taller than Masami. That body was well suited for more dancing, and why shouldn't the guests enjoy Eunhe's cultivated refinement?
It was so terribly obvious to Miseo that the Empress Consort was highly, highly unnerved.
Her pretty little nostrils flared every few moments. Her breath would puff up her cheeks and then rush out like steam from a kettle. Her fingers drummed on tables and teacups, making near constant tapping and chiming noises. Her eyes would furiously fly to Miseo's face as if she was close to demanding an explanation for something.
Miseo was pleased to see this. She understood why she was so riled up.
This was the first time in a long time that Miseo agreed to see the Empress Consort aside from the monthly meetings. And during the monthly meetings she'd only speak when required. Miseo had been purposely avoiding and even ignoring her on occasion.
And here Miseo was, openly having them at her palace, silently bragging to the Empress that she was the one in control, she did what she pleased. The Empress couldn't do anything.
But something truly bothered Miseo.
Princess Masami was fidgeting in the Emperor's lap, even whining a little. The Emperor tried using gentle words to calm her, but that little princess was too fussy. Eventually, she slipped out of her father's arms and put her feet on the floor. Then, with a frown, she marched over to her mother, looked up at her, and asked, "Royal Mother, may I have a bowl of rice crackers?" She might've been hungry.
Miseo had been wanting to make the Empress Consort do something rash, but she hadn't been wanting the next event to happen.
Not even looking down at the child, the Empress Consort's fingers dug into Masami's shoulders, making her peep and whimper. Then, within a second, she'd thrown the small child across the patio, knocking her against a thick fence.
No more music. No more dancing. Everyone but the Emperor, the Empress Consort, and the dazed and crying Masami knelt down. The Emperor ...
Well ...
Enraged was a word that couldn't fully describe what Miseo saw.
Not only did his face turn red, but his ears and hands did too, fingertips included. His hollering sounded like a disarray of foreign words. He sprung out of his seat and rushed to Masami. He cradled the little one in his long arms and pressed his cheek to hers.
As if she was only just then beginning to realize what had happened, the Empress Consort's expression gradually changed from livid to emotionless, bit by bit. Her path from seated to kneeling down was just as slow. She looked as if she was traumatized by something.
When the Emperor started calling her every single filthy name he seemed to know. Some of those names were so vulgar, so obscene, that Miseo didn't even know what they were. She was surprised that he knew them, to be honest. One would normally have to socialize with the lowest of the low to have heard those words, or at least read something terribly coarse. Or that's what Miseo assumed.
She hadn't wanted this to happen. She'd wanted the Empress Consort to, perhaps, lash out at her instead, or something else.
But not this. Never this.
***
Princess Masami was promptly taken away from the Empress Consort and handed off to Seed Consort Miseo. Now, this well adored concubine had the custody of all four of the Emperor's children, and only one was hers by nature.
Seed Consort Miseo's position was the most desired in the Imperial Harem.
And now, the Empress Consort was being confined. People were free to visit her, but none did, not even the Empress Dowager ... well ... except for one occasion. The Empress Dowager went to the Moonlight Pearl Palace just long enough to slap the Consort's face a few times. According to the rumors, the Empress Consort hardly reacted to the strikes. She was as calm as a snowy morning. In fact, some have claimed that her average day now mostly consisted of staring at a wall.
As for the monthly meetings with the Empress Consort, those were done away with. The concubines weren't required to pay any respects to her. The management of the harem temporarily fell into the Empress Dowager's hands.
Miseo was feeling almost proud of how it all turned out, although she regretted the fact that Princess Masami had suffered. After some time living with Miseo, Masami had confessed that her blood mother had indeed lashed out at her a few times before, although these moments were rare. On many days, the Empress Consort had no interest in her and had left all the decisions of her care to the nanny.
For a time, Masami showed a significant amount of jealousy towards Eunhe, but Eunhe didn't seem to pay her distaste much mind. Eventually, Masami was willing to become a sort of tutor under Eunhe, to learn everything of dancing, or everything Eunhe knew. That excised whatever bad feelings were left. Masami even learned to enjoy playing with her little prince brothers, and she was often brought with the rest of the children to see Wen.
One day, as the air turned a little chilly, Masami pranced up to Wen and said, "Mother Wen, oh Wood Consort Mother Wen! Why doesn't Royal Father let you have your sons? This child," she was referring to herself, "can't imagine that Mother Wen ever acted as hotly as Royal Mother did."
Wen turned away, avoiding the child's curious eyes. She didn't give an answer.
Miseo told Masami not to bother Wen anymore and come play a card game with her sister.
***
"Father! Royal Father! See what Eunhe taught me?!"
Despite the Emperor's weak little smile, and despite the approval swirling in his eyes, Miseo gave a cold scolding to the dancing child, "It's impolite to shout while dancing unless it's part of the performance!" And such a thing would be quite rare.
Masami's nose wiggled but she noticed that her father wasn't upset. And so, she continued dancing to the light music. For once, Eunhe was sitting down. Masami was swaying and spinning like a perfectly manipulated puppet but with the joy of a playing puppy.
The Emperor was so pleased to see Masami moving with such confidence.
He was almost able to hide the bitterness twitching in his jaw.
Perhaps, Miseo thought as she put a sleeve to her lips, perhaps the Emperor was pining over his long abandoned Wen, but he was too proud to go to her on his own?
