Chen Yu furrowed his brows, all but entranced by his sister’s performance. But every other member of the Chinese Imperial Court latched their eyes onto her movements, unable to look away. When the sprightly young girl had declared to the Emperor her dancing was the greatest in the land, she did not exaggerate.
Matching each pluck of the zither, she turned in sweeping arcs. In each outstretched hand she fluttered a golden fan, and they moved like butterflies around a fragrant flower. The zither player sped up, pulling at the strings in immediate succession, challenging the young dancer. Yet the girl continued undaunted, moving quicker and quicker until the soft white of her shoes peeked out from underneath her dress. The spectators cooed, speaking to one another in hushed tones.
“Lady Hualin is the plum blossom floating in a spring breeze,” one official stated, in an attempt to gain some respect with an elegant phrase. He succeeded, as a few others made soft noises of agreement.
Some officials looked over at Chen Yu, and he forced himself to smile back. While Chen Yu was one of the latest scholars honored with the role of magistrate, everyone believed that his younger sister was his greatest blessing. While Hualin wore outstanding silk dresses, he kept things simple. That day he wore the stiff black robes of a magistrate, the only embroidery consisting of a rising sun over an ocean, placed square in the middle of his chest. His plainness made a stark contrast to her overwhelming allure, and people often marveled at the fact that the two were related. But he never cared about the exterior-based thoughts of these people. Chen Yu had been born into this world to protect his sister, and no other man would ever worry about her as much as he did. While everyone else was enthralled with her beauty, only he stopped to think about the consequences her recklessness wrought.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Chen Yu gazed around, his eyes shifting from his sister to the Emperor. He wished to himself that the Son of Heaven would find his sister a pretty little trinket that only merited a few moments’ glance. But the Emperor was thoroughly captivated. His whole being leaned in towards her spiraling figure; there was no way out of it now.
Of course Hualin could simply stumble – just one slight misstep – and the spell would be released, her freedom secured. She was talented enough to make just the right mistake, one that wouldn’t ruin her performance yet end the magic of her dance. But the girl was stubborn and flighty, always had been. And Chen Yu was the complacent older sibling— a quality many people chided him for. In the guidelines of the great philosopher Kong Fuzi, the sister obeyed the brother, and the younger complied with the older. This was the way things were meant to be. But Chen Yu could never muster the strength. Hualin certainly was like a flower traveling in the wind, beautiful and carefree, hindered by none. Chen Yu was naught more than the roots of the tree; he only watched as she soared higher, away from his homely position near the earth.
“Do you not understand what risk you would be in, inside the Imperial Court? You would have to fight every day for His Majesty’s attention. Lies, manipulation, attempts at your life: meimei, do not put yourself in such danger!” He recalled his words to her back home only a few weeks ago and suppressed a sigh. Each day those words ran over and over in his mind, becoming clearer and more ominous each time. If only he had been able to dissuade her from her plan. If only he had told the Emperor that his humble sister had no talents, instead of allowing her to say that she was a dancer…there were so many things that he could have done. Perhaps fate would have changed its path.
Chen Yu’s eyes met Hualin’s. The focus of her inky eyes flickered, momentarily replaced with the same look she had given him when she replied to his pleas. Watch me, brother, watch me dance into happiness.
Yet he could see no happiness in her future. The Emperor was cunning and charismatic, traits fine for dealing in politics. When Chen Yu had still been a scholar, he had hailed the Emperor as one of the Middle Kingdom’s greatest rulers, keeping peace and prosperity in the land. But as magistrate, Chen Yu had heard the rumors of harem women driven insane, screaming in the night for the Emperor’s love as they were dragged away. If Hualin managed to survive the Son of Heaven’s toying with her mind, the Empress or other concubines would get to her. Hualin was dancing not to happiness, he knew that.
The zither let out one last, twanging note and Chen Yu could not help but think of the sound of arrows as they hit their target. Hualin spun into a curtsy, her eyes downcast. The Emperor stood up from his throne and clapped his hands together, proclaiming, “I have chosen the fourth Imperial Concubine!” The whole time, his dark eyes never left her.
Even from his place in the back, Chen Yu could see the smile that graced her painted lips as she murmured her gratitude. The court thundered with the resounding applause of the officials, approving despite the suddenness of the decision. Apparently no discussion was needed.
The official who had made the poetic comment earlier noted, “Look, her brother sheds tears of joy. He is a new magistrate and already he is kin to the Son of Heaven. With fortune’s blessing, young Chen Yu shall soon be the uncle of the next Emperor. Continued prosperity to you, child!”
Chen Yu placed another smile on his face, grateful for the excuse to weep openly. The tears spilled down his face unchecked, making dark splotches on the black silk of his robe. An image came into his mind and he could not help but make it audible, even if it was hardly more than a whisper.
“Rising to the heavens, the jaws of the mighty dragon crush the dance of the plum blossom.”
