The world may be tiny but the heart's enormous
Her given name was An Ran, though her life never really managed to live up to the peacefulness that the name implied. (Or the one where Yong Qi's mother lives, but not in the way that you might think.)
You believed in your own story,
then climbed inside it—
a turquoise flower.
You gazed past ailing trees,
past crumbling walls and rusty railings.
Your least gesture beckoned a constellation
of wild vetch, grasshoppers, and stars
to sweep you into immaculate distances.
The heart may be tiny
but the world's enormous.
And the people in turn believe—
in pine trees after rain,
ten thousand tiny suns, a mulberry branch
bent over water like a fishing-rod,
a cloud tangled in the tail of a kite.
Shaking off dust, in silver voices
ten thousand memories sing from your dream.
The world may be tiny
but the heart's enormous.
- Fairy Tales by Shu Ting
Part I
When Yong Qi was eight, something happened that would change his life forever.
Officially, on record, that was the year his mother died of pneumonia.
Reality, on the other hand, was anything but as simple as those records made them out to be.
The year An Ran's son turned eight, her father was caught up in a conspiracy in the political court, accused of treason and was sentenced to death.
The saga of her father's loss of favour with the emperor had been ongoing for months, and for all those months, An Ran found herself strung tight like a fiddle string. She tried to hide it from Yong Qi – the child could hardly understand – but she was never entirely sure her attempt was successful. Yong Qi would often be too perceptive for any of their own good. Her stress and worry was not only for her father but fear of what fates she and her son would suffer should the emperor turn his wrath on them. It didn't help that Yu Fei – as she was then – never enjoyed even the emperor's fickle illusions of love, and only rose through the ranks when Yong Qi was born, she had little leverage to allow her to speak on her father's behalf to the emperor.
Yong Qi was precocious, it was true, and Huang Shang had always loved him more than An Ran ever dared to hope for, but it still didn't mean that she could totally assure herself that her son's status in his father's eyes could stand stable when faced with this storm. She wished she could be sure that Huang Shang would not let the disaster disadvantage his own son in any way, but what reassurance could there be in the tumultuous imperial court? These were the days when the war between Kang Xi's nine princes, and the fall from grace of Hong Shi, Yong Zheng's third son, were still all vivid recent memories.
Yong Qi, for his part, remembered the day when the death sentence had come. His mother had ushered him out of the room when her sister-in-law came to break the news, but Yong Qi could still listen through the crack at the door. His mother had let out a cry of despair before flying out the door and running towards Qian Qing Gong, where the emperor was. Despite the maids and the nanny trying to hold him back, he followed her, and found her kneeling in front of Qian Qing Gong in the midday sun, begging to speak to the emperor who refused to see her. He came forth and knelt with her, despite her efforts to stop him, and the servants' attempt to pull him back home.
Though Yong Qi, then, did not entirely understand the circumstances behind his mother's distress – too much political intrigue and complications hid there for his eight-year-old mind – he was aware enough to realise that his mother was truly terrified, and that his father's cold treatment of her then and afterwards had little to do with her. The emperor was simply taking his rage and frustration at Yong Qi's grandfather out on his mother.
Perhaps if An Ran had meekly sat back and accepted the emperor's sentence, and only mourn in private, she could have kept her position and went on with her silent life, day after day, unnoticed. Huang Shang would not visit her again, but at least she would always have Yong Qi, and as long as Yong Qi lived, she would have protection. Lao Fo Ye was also fond of her, which would also mean that her life was never at stake, even if Lao Fo Ye could not protect her father – for that was a matter of state, and even Lao Fo Ye could not interfere there.
But she was a daughter, and could not watch idly to the side as her father was executed without attempting to beg the emperor to change his mind. When the dragon's rage first turned to Yu Fei, who truthfully had done nothing wrong other than showing a daughter's love, she was demoted down to a mere guiren.
An Ran came to realise – though hardly for the first time – that the emperor truly held very little love for her. She always knew it, of course, that it was only duty that gave her Yong Qi at all. But it never failed to break her heart when his coldness towards her manifested itself in acts like this.
Now, she was alone. Her father was dead, what was left of her family was exiled. The only reason she still lived was because Heaven once held her in enough favour to give her a son. Yet she could not help the fear that, one day, it would not be enough. Yes, she had something like a position because of her child, but it was also very possible that her own low position and lack of favour could, one day, in turn, bring calamity to this child she loved so much and tried so hard to protect. For while Yong Qi was at her side, every time Huang Shang saw him, he would be reminded of her, of her family. And the emperor was a man who learnt holding grudges at his father's knees – and Yong Zheng was the master of it.
So she came to the emperor with a proposition.
"Huang Shang, I would like to beg you to grant me a favour."
Even kneeling on the floor, eyes on her knees, An Ran could feel Huang Shang's dubious look. She had little right to ask for favours now.
"I would like to retire myself to a convent to worship the Buddha, to pray for the soul of my father and hope that one day all that he did wrong and the debts he owed will be repaid, allowing him to be set free. I do not dare to ask for Huang Shang's forgiveness, but only wish to beg for a chance to bring myself some peace of mind, and I cannot get that when I live in such luxury while my father died a traitor's death."
Of course, many of these words were what the emperor would want to hear. If there was ever time to keep her feelings and views of the matter to herself, it was now. An Ran knew her father died more as pawn in the political game men played, and while the emperor perhaps thought him guilty, the reality could never truly be boiled down to such black and white judgement.
"You wish to leave the palace? You realise I will have to strip away your title and you can never come back?"
"Yes, I understand," she said, bracing her entire body in order to make her voice not waver.
"And Yong Qi?" Huang Shang's voice was almost gentle as he spoke their son's name.
An Ran had to take a moment to get a grip on herself. She clenched her fist in her lap and fell back on her heels, closing her eyes, willing herself not to let tears fall.
It is for his own good, she told herself. He would suffer more with her as his mother.
"I will trust him to Huang Shang's safekeeping," she whispered. "Please."
At this last word, she looked up at Huang Shang through a haze of tears.
She knew they both understood the desperation behind that one last word. It would tell Huang Shang the very reason why she was leaving. So that he would never have to lay his eyes on her again – the wife he never wanted. He would then be free of her, and be freer to love Yong Qi with an untainted heart like their child deserved.
The word was a plea for Huang Shang to look at Yong Qi and see only the child, and not the mother. It didn't matter who brought him into the world, Yong Qi was too precious and she could not allow her existence to destroy his future. Even if it meant that she would have to leave him, to lose him.
"Very well, if that is your wish," Huang Shang finally answered.
An Ran took a deep breath and touched her head to the ground, murmuring her thanks.
Now, she just had to tell Yong Qi about it.
"Please don't go," Yong Qi said, clinging to her. "Why do you have to go? E'niang, please stay with me."
He was crying and so was she, but An Ran could do nothing other than hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry, my love, I know it's hard, I know you don't understand. But you will, one day. And perhaps, one day, when you are grown, you will be able to visit me. But for now, know that I love you very, very, very much."
"But why? Why must you go away?" he asked, his eyes wide and full of tears, looking up at her.
"Huang Shang wishes it so, dearest," she said.
In a way, it was true. He just didn't express the wish out loud out of consideration for Yong Qi and Lao Fo Ye. An Ran merely guessed it and granted him his wish.
"But why does Huang Ah Ma wish for you to go away? I need you, E'niang, I don't want you to go," Yong Qi cried.
"Ling Niang Niang will take care of you," An Ran could only whisper, kissing his forehead. "You must be good for her and for Huang Ah Ma."
Huang Shang had recently promoted Ling Pin to Ling Fei, and told her after she was gone, Yong Qi would be put to her care. An Ran was relieved, because both the promotion and the trust of Yong Qi's care showed that Huang Shang favoured Ling Fei greatly.
The young consort was yet without a child, inexperienced, and would not be anyone else's first choice to raise a child, especially one who would suffer such a loss as Yong Qi. However she had always been kind and respectful to An Ran, despite the fact that she got this from hardly anyone else, because the whole inner court knew she enjoyed little love from Huang Shang. Ling Fei, therefore, would be one of the few who would treat Yong Qi with kindness. If she managed to keep Huang Shang's good graces for a long while, Yong Qi would benefit from it too.
"I don't want Ling Niang Niang, I want you!" Yong Qi said stubbornly.
An Ran choked back tears and held him even tighter. She could say nothing else now but apologies and whispered words of love.
Her poor child! She wished there was another way, but for his safety, for his future, she could not find another way.
In the end, Yong Qi more or less had to be pried away from her, though Heaven knew it was breaking her heart to tear herself away from him as well.
"I love you, Yong Qi, never forget that," she choked through sobs, kissing his hand as the eunuchs grabbed him by his middle to stop him from launching back into her arms again. "Remember to be good for Huang Ah Ma, all right?"
"E'niang! No, please don't go, E'niang!"
As the eunuchs took Yong Qi away, An Ran was sure his tearful face and anguished cries would follow her for the rest of her life.
"Forgive me, my child," she whispered, only when he was no longer close enough to hear her.
Yong Qi knelt in front of Qian Qing Gong for three hours the next day, but his father did not give the orders to call his mother back.
He did, however, come out himself and sink down to Yong Qi's level, wiping away the sweat and tears from the child's face with his own handkerchief and said gently, "Go home, Yong Qi."
Yong Qi would not have obeyed, but by then, he was too exhausted to fight the eunuchs who were ordered to carry him back to Ling Fei Niang Niang's Yan Xi Gong. (It was not home.)
As he lay passed out on the bed, Ling Fei wiped at his brow gently, and said to her sister, "Poor child."
"Yes, and poor Yu Fei, too," her sister whispered – because she was Yu Fei no longer, and such sentiments could only now be whispered. "Perhaps it is for the best, though."
Ling Fei could not think of anything to say to that. She wasn't sure putting Yong Qi through this could ever be called for the best. It was definitely worse than if Yu Fei had actually died. At least if she actually died, Yong Qi would have closure, and for Yong Qi's sake, his mother would be afforded a proper funeral as befitted the mother of a prince. Yu Fei's pretend funeral (for the story was that she died) was more or less a show – and not ever a very good one at that.
She could only hope the whole ordeal would not permanently destroy the child's spirit, especially when she knew that no matter what happened between him and Yu Fei, Huang Shang still loved Yong Qi dearly. She could only pray that Yong Qi won't ever doubt that.
"Has he been…difficult?" her sister whispered.
"No," she said wearily. "I wish he was. He has every right to be. But mostly he just cries, and then tries not to, because of, you know, the stupid notion that they are all taught that princes do not cry."
Her sister nodded. "Well, if you need advice, or someone to talk to, or anything at all, let me know, all right?"
"Yes, thank you, Sister."
"I must get home, and let Er Tai know Wu Ah Ge is all right. He's been worried, you know."
"You should take Er Tai in the next time you come. It will be good for Wu Ah Ge, to have the friend and the distraction."
"Of course."
A/N: Let's not tempt fate by commenting much on my sudden bursts of inspiration, but just be glad that suddenly I stayed up an entire night writing 7,000 words…
In case it wasn't clear, my Yu Fei is categorically not the Yu Fei of the remake, who I really…really…dislike, both how she's executed as a character and as a person.