Chapter 17: The Dragon Boat Festival Feast

The weather grew hotter. On the day of the Dragon Boat Festival, the palace was busy before dawn. Mugwort and calamus hung at the gates of each palace, and charms against the five poisonous creatures had been posted. Servants carried wooden buckets back and forth, preparing herbal bathing water. Its scent filled the imperial city, pleasant enough in the cool early-summer morning.

Bitao dug Shen Zhiyi out of bed early. Half asleep, Zhiyi sat up to see Qingluo waiting with a First Attendant’s festive robe decorated with the five creatures and a mugwort tiger. Bitao held a steaming bronze basin of water steeped with mugwort leaves.

“Wake up, my lady! It’s the Dragon Boat Festival, and there’s so much to do.” Bitao’s voice crackled like beans frying in a pan.

Zhiyi rubbed her eyes and resigned herself to getting up. These past two months had been fairly peaceful. Li Xuandu had seldom summoned her; the harem’s attention was fixed on Noble Lady Ye, and few people paid much mind to a First Attendant like Zhiyi. She was happy to enjoy the quiet: eating and drinking, tending flowers, taking walks, and occasionally chatting with the system. Life had been very pleasant.

The child in her belly was nearly three months along, and she still had few symptoms. No vomiting or dizziness, and an excellent appetite. At times she wondered if her pregnancy was imaginary. The system said her good constitution, combined with its protection, had reduced her morning sickness to a minimum. Whatever else one might say about the system, Zhiyi thought its user experience was excellent.

Qingluo dressed her in the festive robe. Bitao added a scented sachet, tied on five-colored silk threads, and placed a mugwort-tiger pin in her hair. Zhiyi looked in the bronze mirror. Her features were lovely as a painting, the vermilion mark between her brows vivid; the festival clothes gave her a suitably festive air.

“You look beautiful, my lady,” Bitao said sincerely.

Once ready, Zhiyi joined the others at Kunning Palace. The empress wore deep crimson ceremonial dress and a phoenix crown. Dignified and imposing, she stood before the hall counting the women in an even voice. When all had arrived, she led the large procession to the Empress Dowager’s Shoukang Palace for the festival greetings.

Shoukang Palace was especially lively. Incense curled through the hall; the offering tables were laden with all kinds of rice dumplings, fresh fruit, and five-creature cakes. The scents of glutinous rice and mugwort filled the air. The Empress Dowager sat high on her couch in a dark blue festive robe, her hair arranged without a strand out of place and her makeup so precise and dignified that her age was impossible to guess.

The empress led the women in a formal salute, and they presented their festival offerings in order. The empress gave a pair of five-creature sachets, exquisitely embroidered on fine Shu brocade, their tiny stitches bringing the designs to life. The Noble Consort presented five-colored longevity cords woven with gold thread, work that had clearly taken considerable effort. The other women offered sachets, colored cords, and similar objects, all carefully made.

Zhiyi, last in line, presented two sachets she had made over the previous days. The original owner had not been skilled at needlework, and Zhiyi was worse. After great effort, her embroidery was still crooked; Bitao had corrected it several times before it became barely presentable. Fortunately, there were many women in the harem, and the Empress Dowager paid little attention to those of low rank. She didn’t examine the gift closely. Relieved, Zhiyi returned to her place.

After the greetings, everyone went back to their palaces for an herbal bath. Honored Consort Rou had ordered Changchun Palace’s bathing water prepared with mugwort, calamus, thoroughwort, and other herbs. Hot water released a fresh fragrance through the room. Zhiyi enjoyed a comfortable soak, washing away much of her fatigue, then changed into fresh clothes and felt considerably more awake.

Once the festival blessings were complete, eunuchs arrived with the emperor’s gifts, distributed according to rank. As a First Attendant, Zhiyi received rice dumplings, a palace fan, a five-creature sachet, and five-colored longevity cords. There wasn’t much, but every item was finely made. The fan bore a detailed, brightly colored festival design for driving away pestilence. She waved it twice and found the cool breeze quite practical.

In the Hall of Mental Cultivation, Li Xuandu sat behind his desk with a memorial open before him. One glance darkened his face. The Imperial Clan Court had submitted it: more than a thousand words of quotations and arguments that came down to one request—His Majesty should adopt a child from the imperial clan to secure the succession.

Adoption. Again! He had heard the word for five years. From his fifth year on the throne, officials had raised it at court, tentatively at first, then openly discussing it, and finally submitting memorials without restraint. This year was worse than ever. The Ministry of Rites, the Imperial Clan Court, and even several idle members of the imperial clan had joined in, sending memorials every few days as if afraid he might forget he couldn’t produce a son.

He flung the memorial onto the desk with a dull thud. He was only thirty-one! In the prime of life! Why had every one of them decided he couldn’t father a child?

His gaze darkened. Beside him, Zhao Quan’an hardly dared breathe. Head lowered, eyes fixed down, he wished he could shrink into a ball.

“Are there more?” The emperor’s voice was icy.

“Your Majesty, all the memorials submitted today are here.”

Li Xuandu looked at the stack. Without opening them, he knew what they would say. He drew a deep breath and forced down his anger, then stood, his voice regaining its usual calm. “To the feast.”

Relieved, Zhao answered at once and followed him out.

At noon, the Dragon Boat Festival rice-dumpling feast opened at Chonghua Palace. A dozen or so tables filled the vast hall, arranged by rank from the innermost seats outward. The Empress Dowager, emperor, empress, and high-ranking consorts sat furthest inside; Concubines, Jieyu, and Ronghua occupied the middle; Noble Ladies, First Attendants, and Attendants sat on the outside.

The tables were laden with dumplings of every kind: horn-shaped, tube-shaped, and nine-linked varieties, filled with date paste, sweet bean paste, salted egg yolks, or ham. Sweet and savory, northern and southern flavors were all represented. There were also five-creature cakes and seasonal fruits—mulberries, cherries, and green plums—filling the tables.

Zhiyi was seated toward the back of the middle area, among low-ranking First Attendants and Attendants. Noble Lady Ye sat in the row directly ahead. When Zhiyi looked up, she saw only a quiet profile, sitting straight without chatting or looking around. Attendant Liu and First Attendant Qian sat at the table opposite Zhiyi, glancing toward her now and then across plates of dumplings and fruit.