CHAPTER 1 A Wife at the Empty Table
CHAPTER 1 A Wife at the Empty Table
The first snow of the season arrived on the evening of Shen Qingwan's second wedding anniversary.
It began as a scattering of white flakes beyond the carved windows of Kunning Palace, settling upon the tiled roofs and the bare branches of the plum trees. By nightfall, a thin layer covered the stone path leading to the main hall.
Inside, the lamps had been lit.
The dining table was arranged for two.
Qingwan had chosen the evening's dishes herself. There was steamed mandarin fish, braised bamboo shoots, lotus-root soup, and a small plate of candied chestnuts. The Emperor had once mentioned that he disliked food that was excessively sweet, so she had instructed the kitchen to reduce the sugar.
She had remembered that remark for nearly two years.
She wondered whether he remembered making it.
"Your Majesty, the soup will grow cold," Lian'er said.
Qingwan looked at the clock.
The second watch was approaching.
"Have the servants replace it."
Lian'er hesitated. "Should we send another message to the Imperial Study?"
"No. His Majesty has already received the invitation."
The answer sounded composed, even to Qingwan's own ears.
She had learned to speak that way.
When she first entered the palace as Empress, she had believed that patience was a form of affection. If Chengyuan was too busy to attend dinner, she would tell herself that governing a kingdom required sacrifices. If he forgot a festival, she would remind herself that his responsibilities were greater than hers. If he spent the evening discussing state affairs with ministers instead of visiting her, she would insist that a good wife should understand.
She had spent two years understanding him.
Sometimes she wondered whether he had ever tried to understand her.
"Your Majesty," Lian'er said gently, "you could eat first."
Qingwan glanced at the second place setting.
"If I eat now, the kitchen will have prepared too much food."
Lian'er did not argue.
She knew that her mistress was not concerned about wasting a meal.
At the beginning of the marriage, Qingwan had waited because she hoped Chengyuan would come.
Later, she had waited because she could not bear to admit that he might not.
Tonight, she had waited because she had not yet learned how to stop.
A soft knock sounded at the door.
Qingwan straightened.
"Enter."
Eunuch Gao stepped into the hall and bowed.
"Your Majesty the Empress, His Majesty sends his apologies. An urgent matter concerning the northern provinces has arisen. He will not be able to attend tonight."
For one brief moment, the room seemed to become very quiet.
Qingwan looked at the dishes.
"Has he eaten?"
Eunuch Gao appeared surprised by the question.
"His Majesty is still in the Imperial Study."
"Then have the kitchen send him something warm. The roads are cold tonight."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
She paused.
"Did His Majesty mention when he might finish?"
"No, Your Majesty."
Qingwan nodded.
"Then you may go."
The attendant withdrew.
Lian'er stood beside the table, her lips pressed together.
Qingwan could feel her maid's anger more clearly than her own.
"Put the food away," she said.
"Your Majesty—"
"Please, Lian'er."
The maid lowered her head.
The servants removed the second place setting first.
The sound of porcelain touching porcelain seemed painfully loud.
Qingwan remained seated until the table was empty. Only then did she rise and return to her bedchamber.
On the dressing table lay a small wooden box.
Inside was a jade pendant she had purchased months earlier. It was modest compared with the treasures usually presented to an emperor, but she had chosen it carefully. The carving depicted a pine tree growing from a cliff, a symbol of endurance through hardship.
She had intended to give it to Chengyuan tonight.
She lifted the pendant from its silk wrapping.
The jade was cold against her fingers.
For a moment, she imagined the conversation she had rehearsed while the servants prepared dinner.
She would tell him that the past two years had not been easy, but she was grateful that they had managed to maintain peace between their families. She would ask whether they might begin spending more time together, even if only for a meal each week.
She would not ask him to love her.
She would only ask him to stop treating her as though her presence were an inconvenience.
The imagined words died before she could speak them.
What if he accepted the pendant with the same polite indifference with which he accepted reports from his ministers?
What if he thanked her, placed it in a drawer, and never thought of it again?
Qingwan returned the pendant to its box.
"Put this away," she told Lian'er.
"Should I place it in the treasury?"
"No."
She closed the lid herself.
"Keep it here."
She could not yet bear to throw it away.
The next morning began before sunrise.
Qingwan washed, dressed, and sat before the mirror while Lian'er arranged her hair. Her formal robes were dark blue, embroidered with restrained patterns of clouds and phoenixes.
As Empress, she could not afford to appear exhausted before the court.
Her personal disappointment was not a matter the officials needed to see.
After breakfast, she reviewed the household accounts.
The winter clothing allowance had increased. Two servants had requested transfers to different departments. The palace infirmary needed additional medicinal herbs, and the steward had reported that the price of firewood was rising.
Qingwan examined each matter before making a decision.
The infirmary would receive its supplies first. The clothing allowance would be adjusted according to the number of servants in each residence. The request for transfers would be approved only after the affected departments confirmed that the changes would not leave them understaffed.
These were ordinary duties, but they mattered.
A poorly managed palace could become a place of hunger, resentment, and quiet cruelty.
Qingwan had no intention of allowing that to happen under her authority.
When the reports were finished, Lian'er brought her a cup of warm tea.
"Your Majesty should rest for a while before the morning audience."
"I have the palace accounts to finish."
"They can wait an hour."
Qingwan looked at her maid.
"Do you think I look tired?"
Lian'er immediately regretted her words.
"No, Your Majesty."
Qingwan smiled faintly.
"That was a very poor lie."
For the first time that morning, Lian'er laughed.
The sound eased the tightness in Qingwan's chest.
It reminded her that her life still contained small moments of warmth, even if the one she wanted most remained absent.
At the morning audience, Emperor Xiao Chengyuan listened to the Minister of Revenue report three missing shipments of grain.
The official knelt at the center of the hall.
"Your Majesty, the missing quantity is approximately twelve thousand measures. The shipments were intended for the northern depots before the first severe snowfall."
Chengyuan's expression hardened.
"Why was I not informed earlier?"
"The ministry initially believed the delay was caused by the condition of the roads."
"And now?"
"An examination of the transport records suggests that the Shen family's warehouses released the grain, but the receiving depots never acknowledged its arrival."
Several ministers exchanged glances.
The Shen family had considerable influence in the grain trade. Its warehouses supplied merchants, provincial offices, and military contractors.
It was also the family of the Empress.
Chengyuan noticed the brief silence.
"Produce the original release authorizations," he ordered. "I want the names of the officials who approved each shipment and the identities of the carriers responsible for transporting them."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"The investigation must be conducted without regard to family connections. If the Shen family is innocent, the records will establish it. If someone has committed fraud, I will not protect them."
The ministers bowed.
Chengyuan turned to the next petition.
Yet the name Shen remained in his thoughts.
He had never fully trusted the political marriage. Qingwan's father had supported his accession to the throne, and the marriage had strengthened the alliance between the imperial family and several commercial houses.
Chengyuan had accepted the union because the empire needed stability.
He had never promised himself that he would love his wife.
He had simply assumed that she understood the terms of their marriage.
He had not considered that she might have entered it with hopes he had never intended to fulfill.
That afternoon, Qingwan was reviewing the winter supplies when a palace attendant arrived with a sealed report.
It was a copy of the grain investigation's preliminary findings.
The document stated that the Shen family's warehouses had released the three shipments.
Qingwan read the report once.
Then she read it again.
The report did not establish where the grain had gone after leaving the warehouses. It did not identify the person who had received it, nor did it explain why the transport records contradicted the gate registers.
Yet the wording made the Shen family appear responsible.
Qingwan placed the document on the table.
"Who prepared this report?"
"The Ministry of Revenue, Your Majesty."
"Was the original evidence attached?"
"No, Your Majesty."
"Then request the original records, including the warehouse receipts, transport authorizations, and the signatures of the receiving officials."
The attendant bowed and withdrew.
Qingwan sat motionless for several moments.
She was not afraid of an investigation.
If the Shen family had made a mistake, the matter needed to be examined. Her position as Empress should not place her family above the law.
But she knew her father's business practices well enough to recognize that the report was incomplete.
The grain leaving a warehouse was not proof that the grain had reached its destination.
Someone had to account for what happened next.
She rose and walked toward the window.
Snow still covered the courtyard.
Beyond the palace walls, ordinary families would be preparing for winter. They would have no idea that the grain intended to protect them from hunger had disappeared into a maze of official documents and private contracts.
Qingwan returned to the table and opened a fresh sheet of paper.
She wrote to her elder brother, requesting the Shen family's original warehouse records.
Then she added a second request: the names of every carrier who had collected grain during the previous month.
She sealed the letter.
For the first time that evening, she felt something other than disappointment.
She felt a responsibility she could act upon.
If someone had stolen the grain, she would find out who.
And if someone had used her family name to conceal the theft, she would not allow them to succeed.
Even if the Emperor himself suspected her.
