On the day the old emperor was laid to rest, I went with the palace consorts to guard his tomb.
White funeral banners fluttered, and paper offerings filled the sky like snow.
Qu Wangshu, clad in a crow-black robe, sat atop a tall sedan chair.
When he saw me, he raised his eyes and smiled mockingly.
"Have you thought it through? You really don't want to stay?"
I shook my head, utterly dejected.
I had been in the palace for twelve years, but Di Wangshu had tormented me for ten of them.
I was probably the first consort in all of history to give herself to a eunuch.
The palace maids and attendants knelt in rows, while the consorts accompanying us didn't dare make a sound.
The power of life and death in the palace now rested in the hands of this chief eunuch.
Yet the man before me, though incomplete, had once been a gentle young man, as warm as jade.
I still remember clearly how, beneath a sky full of willow catkins,
he stood in a simple blue robe, his eyes shining like stars.
"Yaoyao, once I pass the imperial exams, I'll come to your family and ask for your hand."
