7. Mid-Autumn’s Blessings

15 September 1745

[Yongqi's POV]

"No, no, no!" I shouted desperately into Elizabeth's ear.

"Don't believe a word of it."

"Elizabeth, stay with me, don't believe it."

"Don't you dare listen to any of it."

But my words scattered into silence, swallowed by a force I couldn't fight. I felt myself slipping out of her world and back into mine. The scent of agarwood greeted me first, soft and steady from the incense burner nearby.

My eyes fluttered open.

I was in my bedchamber again.

"Fifth Prince!" came the emotional voices of Fuk'anggan and Eunuch Li.

"Arrgh..." I groaned, the soreness in my spine flaring as I attempted to move my arms and legs.

"Young Master Fuca," Eunuch Li said, bowing to Fuk'anggan, "this humble servant shall take his leave to inform Consort Yu and summon the Imperial Physician."

"You're awake!" Fuk'anggan moved closer, cradling a porcelain cup filled with lukewarm water.

"How long was I asleep?" I asked, my voice rasping.

"Fifteen days, Your Highness," Fuk'anggan replied. "Here, take a sip."

I drank slowly, the water strangely sharp against my tongue. "Who else has been here?"

"His Majesty and Consort Yu visited often," Fuk'anggan said. "The Head Imperial Physician was instructed by verbal edict to ensure your recovery. A full-scale investigation into the incident was also ordered."

"You've been calling out for Yi Li Sha Bai in your sleep. I've bribed Eunuch Li and the chambermaids to remain silent."

"Between us, we are not monarch and subject," I said, locking eyes with him. "You are like my brother, K'anggan." 

"But not within palace walls, Your Highness." His eyes widened slightly.

"You've done more than enough," I said, the image of Elizabeth burning bright in my mind. "Father Emperor and Mother Consort do not need to worry over her."

"Her?" K'anggan raised an eyebrow.

I covered my mouth and looked away.

If word of Elizabeth ever reached Father Emperor or Mother Consort, they would launch an investigation at once, tracing her clan, her origins, her standing. And if they discovered that she did not exist within this world at all... they would know I had crossed into a realm far beyond ritual and reason.

They would realise I had violated a taboo that even the Son of Heaven might fear.

* * *

[Fuk'anggan's POV]

I had come with the intention of offering sincere allegiance to the Fifth Prince. Born into the Imperial Yellow Banner under the Fuca family name— in short, Fu — I had witnessed firsthand the ugliness of politics and schemes that men and women alike would exhaust themselves in, all in the name of imperial favour. At court, each day was a battlefield. One survived by discernment and silence, not by virtue. 

"Between us, we are not monarch and subject. You are like my brother, K'anggan." The Fifth Prince's words echoed in my mind.

"You are my brother too, wu ge (fifth brother)," I whispered, smiling as softly as I could. All the effort I had made to guard his flank was worth it, for I knew, one day, he would guard mine in return.

I had just withdrawn to a quiet corner of his chambers when Consort Yu was announced. Not long after, came the arrival of His Majesty and Consort Chun, with the Head Imperial Physician scrambling into the room to examine the Fifth Prince.

"Congratulations, Your Majesty," the physician declared after a round of careful inspection. "The Fifth Prince has recovered well from his injuries."

"Congratulations, Your Majesty. Congratulations, sister Yu," Consort Chun added with a wide smile, dipping into a dainty curtsy.

"It is surely a sign from Heaven that — through Your Majesty's blessed fortune — the Imperial household can enjoy a proper reunion for this year's Mid-Autumn Festival. The Empress Dowager will be greatly pleased."

"Very well said, Consort Chun," the Emperor said with a laugh.

"Take good care of the Fifth Prince," he added, turning to Consort Yu. "I will visit Mother Dowager and bring her this glad news."

Consort Yu lowered into a deep curtsy. I made a low bow with my hands clasped as the Emperor and Consort Chun took their leave.

"Your Majesty!" Consort Chun's voice turned sweet and coaxing.

"Regarding the project… the conversion of the Palace of Harmony into a Buddhist temple…"

The Emperor paused, his eyes shifting toward her.

"It is for the future blessings of Your Majesty's royal sons," she continued, gently. "Isn't today proof from Heaven?"

The Emperor gave a small nod.

I bowed my head further and slipped back into the shadows. Contrary to common belief, women in the Inner Court wielded no small influence. The Emperor may be the head, but the women were the neck — and the neck, ever so subtly, turns where it wills.

Consort Chun was no simpleton. An Imperial Edict inscribed on a commemorative stele for the temple conversion would bring peace among the Empire's Mongol tribes, and win her clan — the House of Su — lasting favour. It would also strengthen her claim for elevation to Noble Consort, especially now that she had borne the Sixth Prince last year, and was once again heavy with child. 

* * *

28 October 1994

[Elizabeth's POV]

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and days of auld lang syne?"

The children of Pearson's sang at the top of their voices while the music teacher played the piano.

There weren't enough lyric sheets to go around, so the children had to share in groups of four or five. Unlike other junior schools, graduation at Pearson was a low-key affair, starting with the principal's address and ending with the singing of Auld Lang Syne. There were no graduation robes or hats, no photographers to capture the moment, and no graduation bears or bouquets of flowers.

"Well, that marks the end of your graduation ceremony," Mrs. Pereira announced through the microphone as the children cheered.

"Please remind your parents that enrolment into a Middle School is part of the compulsory education programme. All the best for your future, children."

Her gaze lingered on the children, a glint of pride slipped through her usual iron mask.

 "You have one hour to say your farewells to your friends and your teachers. Your parents will arrive shortly for dismissal."

For the past two weeks, the entire country had been abuzz with nonstop news coverage about the middle school enrollment crisis. Daily newspapers sent to my home were all about school placements, splashing headlines with racy scandals, outrageous stories, and the occasional whisper of corruption.

My parents, my neighbours, my teachers — practically every adult on the street — would talk about the news the moment they saw each other.

But no one would tell me anything.

From what I could gather, students who entered top-tier middle schools were more likely to progress to elite high schools, and from there, gain entry into the nation's top universities or even the most prestigious institutions abroad. This created intense competition among parents desperate to secure the best future for their children.

The pressure was only made worse by the fact that these prestigious schools quietly reserved half their places for children of alumni. The remaining seats were allocated through a public ballot — a process so contentious that sleepless parents resorted to lawsuits, anonymous complaints, and shouting matches at school gates, fuelling even more national headlines.

For the poor children of Pearson's, any school willing to take them in was considered a blessing.

My parents, on the other hand, never said a word about school enrollment to me, and I was starting to worry.

"Which school are you going to?" I asked the children in my group as we shared the lyrics sheet.

"Johansson's Public School"

"Yeah, me too!"

"Me, three!"

"I'm going to St. Paul's," said the blonde-haired girl beside me.

"Wow! My mummy and daddy say that it's an excellent school!" chirped a blonde girl from another group, leaning over.

"What about all of you?" I asked her friends.

"Johansson's!" they replied, almost proudly.

I looked around. Most of the children from Pearson's were accepted at Johansson's. Maybe it wasn't the best, or the most prestigious, but it seemed... reachable. At least for people like us.

In my mind, the thought quietly settled:

I'd probably have the best luck trying for Johansson's.