Within Kunning Palace, the air was warm as spring.
The hall bore no gold or jade adornments; no sumptuous silks hung upon its walls.
In a niche in the corner, a white jade Guanyin lowered her eyes in compassion.
On the desk, a stick of aloeswood incense sent fine wisps of smoke into the clear sunlight.
Empress Zhou sat in her seat, wearing a newly tailored pale yellow Beizi with a subtle woven pattern, its lapel edges embroidered with sprays of peonies in silver thread.
Beneath it she wore a plain silk bandeau and a long skirt of vivid red gauze.
A pair of white jade pendants hung at her waist, and Phoenix-Head Silk Shoes graced her feet.
Her dark hair was swept into a high-reaching bun. She wore no floral crown, only a Mutton-Fat Jade Phoenix-Head Hairpin, with a few tiny kingfisher-feather ornaments beside her temples.
The virtue of an imperial consort lay in neither jealousy nor extravagance.
Empress Zhou's dwelling alone revealed hers.
Without ornate embellishment, it possessed its own splendor; without ostentation, its own dignity.
All the spring light filling the hall could not rival the tenderness in the empress's eyes.
In the Palace of Earthly Tranquility, Princess Luyang sat close beside the empress.
She peeled a loquat, glancing toward the hall entrance from time to time as she worked.
By palace custom, an audience with the emperor or empress required the rites of purification.
Empress Zhou had not wished to bind her with cumbersome formalities, but Fu Niang knew where propriety lay.
She knew well that she would one day become a wife of the Wei family, and every lapse in word or deed would draw watchful eyes.
A breach of etiquette today might become ammunition for others' attacks tomorrow.
Thus, though the empress