The Ant Woman Ch. 16

Little Princes Fuguo and Kaitao had more than doubled their birth weights. They knew how to roll over, and when they were arranged to sit up they could stay in those positions without support. They reached for and sometimes held interesting things. They played and mimicked facial expressions. They rolled around on the floor, often with a woman rolling around with them.

And, despite how coarse and inelegant as it was, Miseo and Wen both had moments where they rolled around with the babies. Often, Miseo would bring her own little child to the Ginger Steam Palace, and she would also roll around with the babies.

Miseo even told Eunhe, "It's good to live well with your little brothers. Remember to protect them, and perhaps when they're older they'll be able to protect you."

Wen was absolutely thrilled. She could regularly see her children again. She was certain that they even recognized her face and voice. But what secretly repeated in her mind was the fact that the Emperor still didn't come to the Ginger Steam Palace. Whenever he wanted to visit the baby boys, he'd purposely tell Miseo to make sure they were at her palace.

Wen had no right to be upset that he didn't want to see her. But she worried that thanks to his personal insistence on not seeing her, the Emperor would spend less time with his little princes. It was a legitimate concern.

Certainly, she shouldn't be upset about not seeing the Emperor.

She shouldn't ...

And yet ...

On some hours, instead of practicing dancing or writing, instead or playing a zither or working on some embroidery, Wen stared out a window and held one of the Emperor's boots in her lap. She'd tug on the strings. She'd pinch the leather tongue. She'd run her thumb against the tough, ridged bottom.

And a peculiar aching was in her heart. Empty but not unfeeling, more like ... raw from scratching. She couldn't think of another way to describe her emotions.

She thought of the Emperor holding her hand. Putting his other one on her belly. Laughing at something she said. Walking with her somewhere. Asking about her writing. Tranquilly smiling down at her. Kissing her. Holding her. Whispering unbelievably inappropriate things. Moaning her name.

Wen knew she was now the sort of woman that pined and hoped, gazing out a window, waiting for what would never come.

Miseo once had a servant pull a chair near Wen, and she sat down. Closing and pinning a flap of her thin coat, Miseo looked out at the garden outside and said, "I remember when that shoe was fresh and crisp. I saw it on the Emperor's foot years ago."

A sparking kind of pain popped in Wen's chest and her face heated. But her back straightened.

"I suppose it's very sensible for that shoe to be haggard and forgotten," Miseo sighed out.

Wen nodded.

Haggard and forgotten.

Very sensible indeed.

It was going to happen eventually.

Wen had known it, had expected it, had accepted it.

And yet, there was a pressure in her fingers, visibly making indentations in the boot's material.

***

Miseo purposely invited the Emperor, the Empress Consort, and little Princess Masami to come to her Morning Dew Palace. Tea, cakes, music, and dancing on a patio, all that was the apparent lure. Miseo's adorable Princess Eunhe had grown a little bit this year. She was taller than Masami. That body was well suited for more dancing, and why shouldn't the guests enjoy Eunhe's cultivated refinement?

It was so terribly obvious to Miseo that the Empress Consort was highly, highly unnerved.

Her pretty little nostrils flared every few moments. Her breath would puff up her cheeks and then rush out like steam from a kettle. Her fingers drummed on tables and teacups, making near constant tapping and chiming noises. Her eyes would furiously fly to Miseo's face as if she was close to demanding an explanation for something.

Miseo was pleased to see this. She understood why she was so riled up.

This was the first time in a long time that Miseo agreed to see the Empress Consort aside from the monthly meetings. And during the monthly meetings she'd only speak when required. Miseo had been purposely avoiding and even ignoring her on occasion.

And here Miseo was, openly having them at her palace, silently bragging to the Empress that she was the one in control, she did what she pleased. The Empress couldn't do anything.

But something truly bothered Miseo.

Princess Masami was fidgeting in the Emperor's lap, even whining a little. The Emperor tried using gentle words to calm her, but that little princess was too fussy. Eventually, she slipped out of her father's arms and put her feet on the floor. Then, with a frown, she marched over to her mother, looked up at her, and asked, "Royal Mother, may I have a bowl of rice crackers?" She might've been hungry.

Miseo had been wanting to make the Empress Consort do something rash, but she hadn't been wanting the next event to happen.

Not even looking down at the child, the Empress Consort's fingers dug into Masami's shoulders, making her peep and whimper. Then, within a second, she'd thrown the small child across the patio, knocking her against a thick fence.

No more music. No more dancing. Everyone but the Emperor, the Empress Consort, and the dazed and crying Masami knelt down. The Emperor ...

Well ...

Enraged was a word that couldn't fully describe what Miseo saw.

Not only did his face turn red, but his ears and hands did too, fingertips included. His hollering sounded like a disarray of foreign words. He sprung out of his seat and rushed to Masami. He cradled the little one in his long arms and pressed his cheek to hers.

As if she was only just then beginning to realize what had happened, the Empress Consort's expression gradually changed from livid to emotionless, bit by bit. Her path from seated to kneeling down was just as slow. She looked as if she was traumatized by something.

When the Emperor started calling her every single filthy name he seemed to know. Some of those names were so vulgar, so obscene, that Miseo didn't even know what they were. She was surprised that he knew them, to be honest. One would normally have to socialize with the lowest of the low to have heard those words, or at least read something terribly coarse. Or that's what Miseo assumed.

She hadn't wanted this to happen. She'd wanted the Empress Consort to, perhaps, lash out at her instead, or something else.

But not this. Never this.

***

Princess Masami was promptly taken away from the Empress Consort and handed off to Seed Consort Miseo. Now, this well adored concubine had the custody of all four of the Emperor's children, and only one was hers by nature.

Seed Consort Miseo's position was the most desired in the Imperial Harem.

And now, the Empress Consort was being confined. People were free to visit her, but none did, not even the Empress Dowager ... well ... except for one occasion. The Empress Dowager went to the Moonlight Pearl Palace just long enough to slap the Consort's face a few times. According to the rumors, the Empress Consort hardly reacted to the strikes. She was as calm as a snowy morning. In fact, some have claimed that her average day now mostly consisted of staring at a wall.

As for the monthly meetings with the Empress Consort, those were done away with. The concubines weren't required to pay any respects to her. The management of the harem temporarily fell into the Empress Dowager's hands.

Miseo was feeling almost proud of how it all turned out, although she regretted the fact that Princess Masami had suffered. After some time living with Miseo, Masami had confessed that her blood mother had indeed lashed out at her a few times before, although these moments were rare. On many days, the Empress Consort had no interest in her and had left all the decisions of her care to the nanny.

For a time, Masami showed a significant amount of jealousy towards Eunhe, but Eunhe didn't seem to pay her distaste much mind. Eventually, Masami was willing to become a sort of tutor under Eunhe, to learn everything of dancing, or everything Eunhe knew. That excised whatever bad feelings were left. Masami even learned to enjoy playing with her little prince brothers, and she was often brought with the rest of the children to see Wen.

One day, as the air turned a little chilly, Masami pranced up to Wen and said, "Mother Wen, oh Wood Consort Mother Wen! Why doesn't Royal Father let you have your sons? This child," she was referring to herself, "can't imagine that Mother Wen ever acted as hotly as Royal Mother did."

Wen turned away, avoiding the child's curious eyes. She didn't give an answer.

Miseo told Masami not to bother Wen anymore and come play a card game with her sister.

***

"Father! Royal Father! See what Eunhe taught me?!"

Despite the Emperor's weak little smile, and despite the approval swirling in his eyes, Miseo gave a cold scolding to the dancing child, "It's impolite to shout while dancing unless it's part of the performance!" And such a thing would be quite rare.

Masami's nose wiggled but she noticed that her father wasn't upset. And so, she continued dancing to the light music. For once, Eunhe was sitting down. Masami was swaying and spinning like a perfectly manipulated puppet but with the joy of a playing puppy.

The Emperor was so pleased to see Masami moving with such confidence.

He was almost able to hide the bitterness twitching in his jaw.

Perhaps, Miseo thought as she put a sleeve to her lips, perhaps the Emperor was pining over his long abandoned Wen, but he was too proud to go to her on his own?

Miseo wondered ... even if he didn't want to admit that he still cared for this Wen, how furiously would he protect her if he knew she had been abused?

Late that night, she knelt before him in her bedchamber, and she quietly said, "Your Majesty, It should be said that Wood Consort Wen has truly behaved well. This Seed Consort of yours believes she should no longer be confined to her palace, and she should have as many visitors as she likes."

The Emperor literally turned his whole body around, showing her his back. His fingernails tapped and scratched at some embroidery on his gown. Then those fingers clutched up a section of the fabric. When his voice came, it was terse and defensive. "I care not. Do as you please."

"Your Majesty wouldn't mind?" Miseo reached back to pull her thin shawl over one shoulder. It was a lovely thing with a color like nacre. The Emperor had given it to her years ago. "You've always been a thoughtful person, and appropriately so. A ruler should be very thoughtful. Would Your Majesty truly not care what is done with the Wood Consort?" When she thought she heard a snapping, near rip in the Emperor's clothes, where he pulled with his hand, Miseo knew she'd poked a nerve. "Then, would you allow the little princes to return to their loving mother?"

The fabric ripped.

Miseo made a dramatic gasp. "Oh, Your Majesty! Your gown's been torn! How distressing!" Shuffling her knees, she carefully moved close to him and reached up to lightly put her fingers around his wrist. "If you aren't satisfied with the seamstresses, I could patch your gown for you."

His fingers released the fabric, then, let it fall back down. It still looked very wrinkled in the firelight. Miseo let his wrist go and put her hand on her lap. The Emperor's next words were very eagerly listened to.

"If Wen wants her sons, then give them to her, but be certain that she knows I won't visit them at the Ginger Steam Palace. Instead, the boys will be brought to me on occasion."

Nodding her head, Miseo said, "Then in her place, I will thank Your Majesty." She shuffled back and prostrated herself. "Thank you for returning the princes to their mother."

"Yes ... I ... well," the Emperor sighed here and took a step away from her, "fine ... that's fine. I'll leave you here."

***

The nursery was truly a nursery. It wasn't an empty, cold room. It was lively and warm.

Two wet-nurses were playing with the princes. Wen was watching in a corner, smiling and sighing. Thankfully, the babies didn't think of her as a stranger. They'd never looked at her with confused fear. They'd only coo and go on with their little lives when Wen picked one of them up.

Life was now so much better than before, or she thought so. Even with a lack of attention from the Emperor, even with the Empress Consort looming in her mind, Wen thought life was much better.

When the Emperor or Empress Dowager wanted a visit with the princes, they'd order Wen to send them off to their palaces. Wen, along with her eunuchs, would escort the wet-nurses and babies as far as the palaces' gates. Then she'd walk off when she was certain everything was fine. The babies would later on be escorted back to her palace by some other eunuchs.

It seemed that no matter how disliked Wen was, her children were cared for. That was the most relieving thing of all. And now they were in her custody! Glory or not, that wasn't her concern. Wen had a mother's joy and full heart instead.

Pollen Lady Hayun visited for a little while. They chatted and played music together. She'd recently been found to be pregnant, which was good news. The Emperor needed more heirs, and Wen couldn't think of a reason why Hayun didn't deserve her own slice of happiness. The Emperor had been spending most of his time with both Hayun and Miseo, it seemed.

At one moment, Harun whispered to Wen, "Oh why has the Emperor been treating you so coldly? Weren't you once his favorite?"

Wen couldn't find the heart to be defensive. She only sighed and admitted, "I've done something he has difficulty forgiving." She wouldn't say what she'd done, however.

Adjusting her fingernail guards as if they were rings, Hayun sighed and said, "Well, he might forgive you soon. Sometimes distance renews one's affections."

Perhaps, but Wen didn't think she had the right to hope for renewed affections. The Emperor had so many other women, beautiful women, women that had been his longer than Wen had. They needed their chances.

On the day after that, Seed Consort Miseo visited, and she was as friendly and peaceful as always. She sat down in the office and started some quiet but colorful work on a sample of embroidery while Wen wrote some short stories.

Yuwei approached at one moment to put a tray of light, smooth snacks on the desk. It was then that Miseo asked the maid, "Aren't you known for your skills with threads?"

Half-kneeling, Yuwei said, "Beautiful Seed Consort, this maid is only a maid, nothing more."

Wen looked up from her writing and said, "Yuwei is quite skilled."

Her eyelids lowering a bit, her lips soft and even looking a bit plumper, Miseo said, "Then come here, Little Yuwei, and tell me if you have any suggestions for this piece."

Pretty blonde eyelashes fluttering, Yuwei politely insisted, "This low servant would never dare to order an Imperial Consort about."

"Don't be difficult, now." Miseo waved her hand to try to convince the blonde to come closer. "If I'm acknowledging your talent, that means you have talent. Come and show me some techniques."

Wen didn't think much of it. Yuwei was a very talented maid. The more she pleased the high ranks the better.

Some hours later, Miseo had a private conversation with Wen. It was actually quite fruitful.

"If you were to try to visit the Empress Consort," Miseo said, holding her fan over her lips, "she'd be furious, so furious that not only would she let you into her palace, but she'd abuse you the first chance she had."

Wen picked up a little mirror and took a moment to admire her reflection. She had whimsical little symbols painted and glued to her white face. She was able to hide her disgust well. Her pretty visage seemed very emotionless. "That isn't an experience I'd like to have again."

"I know," Miseo said in a low whisper, "but would you be willing to do so if you knew it would lead to her destruction?"

"Destruction?" Wen sighed and carefully put her mirror on a table. "How could such a thing happen?"

"Well, I know the Empress Consort's favorite little room is a suffocating place. There's a triplet of shutters with a love story painted on them." Miseo's brightly colored fingernails tapped on her fan's handle. "Isn't that where your incident happened?"

An eyelid twitching, Wen said, "That is so."

"Well then," Miseo said as she leaned in closer, her eyes playful and thrilled, "imagine for a moment that a few of the Empress Consort's maids and eunuchs had been bribed with a sinful amount of money. Now, imagine that if a certain Wood Consort was forced into that suffocating little room, those maids and eunuchs would hang sheets of bright red out certain windows of the Moonlight Pearl Palace's second floor, where anyone could see them."

It took Wen five seconds to understand what Miseo was saying.

This was almost too easy.

***

Two days later ...

Seed Consort Miseo knelt before the gates of the Plum Aroma Palace. She'd heard the Emperor was inside, and that was perfect, so much better than what she'd hoped to achieve. She begged and begged to be heard. It didn't take long for someone to let her into the palace. The fact that Miseo had begged was certainly noted. Normally, she didn't need to beg. Normally, she'd be let inside without any trouble.

In the palace's reception room, Miseo made a show, prostrating herself and imploring with the most dire of tones that the Empress Dowager and Emperor follow her to the Moonlight Pearl Palace. The Emperor and Dowager would both be admitted in without permission from the Empress Consort. Both of them were highly concerned, but the Dowager seemed much more upset. Her nostrils flared and she said, "What's that crazed woman doing now?!"

The trio all got into their sedan chairs and were carried off to the Moonlight Pearl Palace. They all demanded to be let past the gate. Then, Miseo led the others to an area in a garden, where a certain triplet of shutters were visible. Then Miseo cried out a single word.

"Now!"

The shutters were slammed open as if someone was in a hurry to do it, afraid that someone would put a stop to it.

The Empress Dowager gasped. The Emperor's jaw fell.

Wood Consort Wen was mostly nude, looking rather bruised on her face, throat, and arms. Between her exposed thighs, the Empress Consort had her claw-like hand, and two of her fingers were ... well ... not in the air.

Wen seemed to have been the one to unlock and open the shutters.

This had to be stopped.

***

The documents with the bloody palm prints were taken out to be read by the Emperor. Before him, in his office, Empress Consort Shungjahe Atsuka was kneeling. Her face was cold.

The Emperor's face wasn't cold. It was red hot, and his belly was sour.

Back then ... when he saw Wen kneeling at the Empress Consort's palace, he hadn't really examined her appearance. Coldly, he'd turned his eyes away without realizing she'd been abused. The signs were right there at his feet, and he'd been too prideful to see them.

And the abuse had happened again when Wen had apparently tried to reconcile with the Empress Consort, or that's what seemed to have happened. Poor, dear Wen! She'd tried to be a loyal, understanding concubine, always willing to please the husband's wife, but this had happened again!

Miseo had admitted she'd committed a sin by bribing the Empress Consort's servants to send signals about it, but the Emperor pardoned both her and those servants. Their intentions had been good. They'd wanted to reveal a monster to the world.

He kicked his chair back. The chair's legs scraped against the wooden floor. He stomped around the desk and stood in front of it, and he looked down at his calm but very tired looking wife.