Why does the Forbidden City feel so strangely familiar to me?
Why am I left in tears before the gate of Yikun Palace?
Why is my long-lost copy of Selected Poems of Li Qingzhao in the Imperial Garden?
The wind howls, snow falls over the palace walls. So that was my previous life…
I was once a young palace maid in the Laundry Bureau. One day, she took pity on me, and from then on, I stayed by her side for the rest of her life.
But in this new life, I still can’t change history, even though I’m a history prodigy renowned far and wide in the modern world.
“Is your name Zhiyi, as in ‘The south wind knows my heart, and blows my dreams to Xizhou’?”
“Your Highness, n-no… It’s Zhiyi, as in ‘How much spring has Zhiyi seen?’”
“Zhiyi, you alone understand the willows dyed with green.”
The setting sun melts like gold, twilight clouds gather like jade. Where is my beloved? Willows grow thick with spring haze; a flute laments a plum blossom tune. How much spring is left? The Lantern Festival brings mild weather, but could there not yet be wind and rain? Friends come to call in fragrant carriages and fine horses. I thank my companions for the wine and poetry.
In the capital, in days of old, a girl had plenty of leisure behind her gate, and remembers how she loved the Lantern Festival most. Jade-green crowns, golden snow-willow ornaments, everyone dressed up in splendid finery. Now I am haggard, my hair disheveled and streaked with frost. I dread going out at night. Better to stay beneath the curtains and listen to people laughing.
(Readers sensitive to tragedy, beware: everyone gets a bad ending, and the historical fate of Qianlong’s empress is unchanged. This is intended as a tragedy and draws on some official and unofficial historical sources, though many details differ from history. This is fiction, not a history book, so historical accuracy purists should steer clear!)
Derived from historical facts but not limited to historical facts, the true feelings can still be seen in the tragedy