10 Paper Kites

When Yu Yan returned from the Palace of Eternal Longevity to the courtyard of the Southern Third Residence, Fourth Prince had just finished his lessons.

His mood was less than cheerful. Today, the Emperor had generously bestowed titles upon the princes who had accompanied him on the campaign in the thirty-fifth year of Kangxi’s reign. Even the youngest, the Eighth Prince, had been granted the rank of Beile, while his two elder brothers held the higher titles of Prince of the First Rank and Prince of the Second Rank respectively. Yet, for him, only the title of Beile remained.

Such a disparity would unsettle anyone, even those with the best temperaments—and his temper was hardly gentle. Returning home, he was seething inside, having to gulp down a full cup of bitter herbal water just to quell the restless heat within.

Finally calming somewhat, a message arrived from the Consort’s quarters: Lady Song had given birth prematurely.

This pregnancy had been much like when she was expecting the eldest princess. Despite being seven months along, the fetus had failed to thrive. The face remained thin, the waist showed no growth. The imperial physicians said it was because her body had never fully recovered after the birth of the eldest princess, and even after three or four years, the aftereffects lingered.

Matters of childbirth were delicate, especially for a child of Yu Yan’s age; she was not allowed to see the newborn. Everyone feared that if anything went wrong during birth, the heavy atmosphere in the delivery room might upset the young mistress.

Thus, the Consort, Lady Li, and Lady Wu gathered around Lady Song’s courtyard, while Yu Yan had to rely on secondhand reports from Yue Tao and Shan Zhi, which were neither immediate nor complete.

After all, she was still a child; some things could not be spoken of openly before her. Yue Tao and the others could only vaguely say that Lady Song had given birth to a little princess who was rather weak.

As for how weak, no one told Yu Yan.

In truth, the newborn princess was thinner than a nursing kitten. Even when Hongfu was first born, he was not this frail. At a glance, the little princess looked even weaker than the eldest princess who had died soon after birth. In every way, she seemed unlikely to survive. On the day of the birth, Fourth Prince glanced at the little princess and immediately instructed the wet nurse to take the child away.

To be honest, it was not that Yinzhen was cold-hearted and indifferent; he could see that the child was plainly unlikely to grow. He did not want to invest so much emotion only to be left mourning bitterly.

In the vast courtyard, the only one to weep genuinely for the little princess was Lady Song herself.

“Princess, no matter how distressed you are, you mustn’t cry like this during confinement. If you develop wind-induced tears, it will trouble you for the rest of your life,” Du Juan advised gently.

Lady Song closed her eyes tightly, biting her lips, tasting the bitterness of her tears.

She began to doubt herself. Had she not harmed the eldest prince before, would this little princess have been so frail at birth—less robust even than her eldest sister?

But, oh heavens, if there truly was retribution, she, Song Wanru, would bear it alone. Why must her child be implicated?

The small Buddhist shrine in the Consort’s courtyard remained lit. She knelt quietly on a mat, slowly placing each page of the Amitabha Sutra, handed to her by Dongqing, into the charcoal brazier.

The sparks touched the paper and turned it to ash. Amidst the flickering candlelight, the Consort’s compassionate round eyes hardened with a fierce resolve.

“Consort—”

Before the wet nurse could speak, Bai Su grasped her sleeve and hushed her.

“Shh.”

The Consort bent down to retrieve a sheet of paper that had floated out of the brazier. “The wind is strong tonight. Wet nurse, go check if Honghui has kicked off his quilt.”

A dog that bites does not bark. She had always thought the fiercest opponent in the courtyard was Lady Li, but it turned out that the two misfortunes suffered by Honghui had been caused secretly by Lady Song.

Yet no matter how she pondered, she could not fathom Lady Song’s motives... But now, her reasons mattered little.

She had sent someone to harm Honghui. Though the Consort could not stoop to such dirty deeds, having people whisper rumors to Lady Song day and night, causing her to worry incessantly throughout her pregnancy, leading to poor appetite, premature birth, and loss of the child—this was within her power.

“Namo Amitabha,” the Consort bowed sincerely before the Buddha statue, praying that Lady Song’s little princess might find a good home in the next life.

Lady Song sat holding the little princess all night. At dawn, the child’s breath ceased.

Yu Yan had also been cradled by Lady Li throughout the night. Perhaps because she had never known what it was like to be held by her mother, she slept soundly, only awakened by Hongfu’s silly laughter as he learned to walk.

“At this age, Hongfu still hasn’t spoken,” Lady Li fretted, patting her son’s small bottom, which drew an unhappy protest.

Aunt Chen comforted her. “As the old saying goes, noble children speak late. Perhaps little brother is one of those noble children. It’s not uncommon for some children over a year old not to talk yet. You should not worry.”

Lady Li still felt a pang of sadness. Perhaps this was the way of motherhood: when a child was weak, the whole heart wished only for health, caring little for anything else. But when the child grew stronger, the wish shifted to hoping for intelligence—not necessarily as sharp as his sister, but even half as clever would suffice.

Yu Yan, helped by Yue Tao, dressed and washed, braiding her newly grown hair and pinning a pale yellow silk flower atop. By the time they finished, the breakfast was laid out dish by dish.

The palace rice was always green-husked millet, the kind spoken of in Dream of the Red Chamber, green and glossy, steaming with a rich fragrance. Yu Yan sipped the millet porridge in small mouthfuls, occasionally scooping a slice of pickled radish from the white porcelain bowl, finishing her meal with gusto.

“Did the princess like the water chestnut cake I brought yesterday? If she did, I’ll bring more next time,” said Lady Li.

Though she herself did not care much for food, watching her daughter eat was a delight. As Yu Yan grew older and began to gain some flesh and height, she thought she ought to eat more.

Aunt Chen smiled, taking the water chestnut cakes and fried tea pastries from Pearl’s hands. “Don’t worry, young mistress. The Empress Dowager in the Palace of Eternal Longevity often sends treats to the princess. She will never go hungry.”

Lady Li knew well that nothing would go amiss in the palace, but as long as Yu Yan was not misbehaving in front of her, she worried the child might be cold, hungry, or worse.

Sighing, she looked at Hongfu, wishing the child could stay this young forever—just learning to walk, slow and unsteady, always clinging to his mother, safely under her watchful eyes.

But children do not remain children forever.

Lady Li gently stroked Yu Yan’s cheek. “Since you study under your Fifth Aunt, you must not be naughty in the Palace of Eternal Longevity. You must listen to her.”

Yu Yan nodded earnestly.

Amid the sparse shadows of apricot blossoms and fresh green willows, beneath the red walls and golden tiles of the corridor eaves, the spring breeze scattered a few apricot petals onto the Fifth Princess’s lap. She sat quietly before a stone table where the bamboo frame and painted paper of a kite lay ready. Soon she reached out, using glue to affix the paper to the bamboo frame, then carefully bound layer upon layer of the kite’s tether.

“Auntie!” Yu Yan’s keen eyes spotted the kite at once. She ran joyfully to the Fifth Princess, her chubby little hands pressing on the dry painted paper. “It’s a kite!”

The corner of the Fifth Princess’s mouth, previously downturned, curved slightly. She bent to lift Yu Yan onto her lap. “Yesterday you watched someone else’s kite so intently. Would you like to fly a kite with me today?”

“Yes!” Yu Yan cheered, throwing off the serious airs of a grown child. She had never experienced flying a kite before and was thrilled.

The Fifth Princess stared at the kite in her hands, while a nearby wet nurse frowned and warned, “Second Princess is still young and running around causes no harm, but if the princess acts in such childish ways, it may sully her womanly grace.”

Yu Yan’s face scrunched in confusion. How could running a few steps make her lose her grace? Was this wet nurse not too strict?

Just as she was about to protest, the Fifth Princess smiled lightly. “Since when did a girl’s grace mean she cannot run or jump? Wet nurse, you can take that complaint to the Empress Dowager and see how she rules on it.”

The wet nurse was silenced. Everyone knew the Empress Dowager was of Mongol descent, skilled in horseback riding and archery on the steppe. Complaints like that would find no favor before her.

The Fifth Princess knelt to Yu Yan’s level, handing her the kite string. “Here, A Linzhu, hold the string and slowly let it out as you run.”

Yu Yan blinked, confused. “Auntie, aren’t you running?”

The Fifth Princess shook her head. “This kite is for you to play with.”

But her unwillingness did not mean she could not run, especially when others were watching.

Yu Yan took a running start. Aunt Chen watched anxiously, fearing the little one might stumble. Yet Yu Yan’s steps were quick yet steady, nimble and sure. She followed the Fifth Princess’s instructions, gradually releasing the string as the kite soared into the sky.

Excited, she ran back to the Fifth Princess. “Look, Auntie! The kite’s flying!”

Lifted by the wind, the kite soared higher into the vast sky.

“Linzhu, do you want to be the kite?”

Yu Yan, lost in the joy of releasing the string and watching the kite climb, suddenly looked up at the Fifth Princess at her side.

The princess’s gaze was fixed on the soaring kite, her face etched with an indescribable sorrow.

“I don’t want to,” Yu Yan said, handing the string back to the Fifth Princess, feigning childish stubbornness. “Kites need strings to be pulled. Linzhu doesn’t want to be pulled by anyone.”

At first the Fifth Princess looked puzzled. Then a faint smile transformed her confusion into acceptance. She murmured softly, “You don’t want to be the kite either…”

Moments later, she picked up the scissors used for crafting the kite and handed them to Yu Yan. Holding the child’s small hand, she snipped the kite’s tether. The kite, freed from its string, floated upward on the breeze, becoming a tiny, indistinct black dot in the sky.

“Linzhu, then we won’t be kites. We will be the kite flyers.”

The Fifth Princess drew the daydreamy Yu Yan back onto her lap. “The kite soars to the heavens, the fish leaps in the deep… Linzhu, Auntie hopes you become one who battles the vast skies, with all your wishes fulfilled.”

She no longer had the chance to be the kite, but Linzhu still did.