Disclaimer: Chang Ge Xing belongs to Xia Da. Special thanks to xNightDreamerx for the beta.
Truth in Wine
© 2015
Study to improve oneself, not to impress others.
Into her mother's personal chamber she snuck, after specific orders to the attendants and Ah Yun to let no one intrude. Chang Ge had clandestinely approached the room in silence, careful in her brightly dyed foreign dress, accentuated an abundance of dangling ornaments on the hems of the dress and woven into her hair, braided unfamiliar to the Han's common style.
"Mother," little Chang Ge called in Uyghurian, startling Li Jin. She knew she was ready when her mother glanced at her.
Without preamble, she floated into a fluid dance. The dangling ornaments jingled with every step and stroke, the vivid colour of the dress dyeing the air in its wake matching the dramatic, festive jigs. Chang Ge danced and danced, a huge smile on her face as she infused all the grace and power in every flight and flutter. Only when the dance receded did she dared to find her mother's eyes.
She stopped when she saw her mother, her beautiful mother, agape with relentless tears running down her face. Chang Ge immediately dropped all she had done, and rushed to the lachrymose woman.
"Mother," Chang Ge urged, small hand shaking her shoulders, "Mother.. Mother! Are you alright? Are you hurt anywhere? Did I do something-"
Jin Liangdi sobbed even louder with every Uyghurian word.
"..Mama," Chang Ge pleaded, switching to Han. Her small face was contorted in devastation, feeling atrocious for every drop of salty tears to escape her jaw, for upsetting her mother, whom despite her despair and pitiable state, expressed no extremities of solidly physical expression like tears of sadness.
"Ma—Mother,"
She wished to reach out for the weeping figure, but her mother did not seem like she would appreciate further breaches in privacy after she cruelly prodded a sensitive matter to her.
"Mother," she said, swallowing as she felt her voice cracking, keeping her gaze down in shame. "I am sorry."
Before her own tears could break out from its thick walls on her eyes, she turned away vehemently.
"I promise to never do it again," she choked, reassuring her mother as she dashed out of the unwelcoming chamber. Dancing shadows on the lacquered wooden walls flicked and jumped, twining into hands that chased her out. Chang Ge shook and shuddered, feeling cold on her fingers and dizzyingly feverish on her face. Her legs ached to run out. Run, go out, away—far, far away from the room, frigid and distant as her own mother.
"I'm sorry,"
She had sobbed long and hard that night, biting her fingers to mute the excruciating wheeze of her voice. Ah Yun stood outside her door, curtly sending away concerned maidservants. She stayed for hours with nothing to say, sleeve against her lips to catch involuntary tears. At dawn, Chang Ge found a bowl of half-melted ice and a piece of cloth. Sniffling, she gathered the ice with the cloth and dappled them on her swollen eyes, warming them with rivulets of fresh tears.
Ignoring her breakfast, she dismissed all the Uyghur linguists and ceased her ardent practicing of Uyghur dances. Schedule cleared, she drowned herself into other studies; swapping the Uyghur language to history of the dynasties and its trade and its scholars, trading dance classes for swordsmanship practise and war strategies. The Princess of Yongning carried on as if nothing was amiss. Reluctantly, so did the rest of the palace.
Stoic as a statue, Chang Ge would walk past Jin Liangdi's room with easy grace, catching the streaks of gold at the corners of her eyes.
As usual, Li Jin spared her no glances.
She breathed no word about that night again.
*Liangdi: the wife of the Crown Prince.
