The Forbidden City, Beijing - April 30th, 1940
Princess Changning had not left her residence the entire day. It had been raining since dawn—a steady, persistent spring rain that drummed against the curved tiles of her roof and created small rivers in the courtyard's ancient stone channels. The sound of raindrops was soothing in its constancy, a natural rhythm that seemed to slow time itself. The patter on the ground outside her residence created a gentle percussion that would have been meditative under different circumstances.
She sat near a large window, her favorite position in the whole residence, gazing out at the rain-soaked gardens. The usually vibrant colors of spring flowers appeared muted and subdued through the veil of falling water, as though the weather itself shared the melancholic mood that had settled over the inner courtyards. She was lost in thought, her mind wandering paths she wasn't entirely comfortable acknowledging.
There had been an almost oppressive solemnity in the Forbidden City ever since the wedding ceremony concluded eight days ago. The elaborate celebrations, the foreign dignitaries, the spectacle and grandeur, all of it had vanished as quickly as morning mist, leaving behind only an unsettling quiet. Her thoughts continually drifted to her eldest sister, Ankang, now a Princess of Japan, living in a foreign land among strangers who would forever see her as Chinese rather than truly one of them. She wondered how Ankang must be adjusting to her new family, whether she felt welcomed or isolated, whether the formal courtesy she undoubtedly received masked genuine warmth or merely diplomatic necessity.
The calligraphy brush and expensive paper she had prepared earlier in the day lay untouched beside her, the ink in its stone well slowly drying. She had intended to practice, to lose herself in the meditation of forming characters, but found herself unable to concentrate. There had been too many things occupying her mind, too many concerns that resisted being organized into coherent thoughts. The atmosphere in the Forbidden City simply hadn't been the same since the wedding ended or perhaps it was she herself who had changed, who now perceived familiar spaces differently.
A gentle knock came at her door, pulling her from her reverie. Princess Changning slowly turned her head toward the sound. "Come in," she said, her voice barely rising above the sound of the rain.
The door creaked slowly open and a small figure appeared at the threshold, bowing with grace. It was Xinyi, her lady-in-waiting, a young woman who was of the same age and someone who had been in her service since they were both children.
"Your Highness, would you like me to prepare some milk tea to warm you?" Xinyi asked with another bow, her voice carrying genuine concern. "The day has grown quite cold."
Only now did Princess Changning become aware of the chill that had been creeping into the room as afternoon wore on toward evening. Her exposed forearms, visible beneath her sleeve cuffs, carried goosebumps she hadn't consciously noticed until Xinyi's question drew her attention to the physical sensation. The rain had brought with it unseasonably cold air from the northern steppes.
"No need, Xinyi," Princess Changning replied, rising from her seat by the window with a rustle of silk. She moved toward an ornate wooden chest and retrieved a long, elaborate fur coat—white fox trimmed with ermine, a gift from her father on her eighteenth birthday.
"Are you going somewhere, Your Highness?" Xinyi asked, noting with some surprise that the Princess was preparing to venture out rather than simply warming herself by remaining indoors with tea.
"Yes. Come with me, Xinyi. I am going to pay a visit to my aunt," Princess Changning said as she fastened the coat's silk frogs.
Xinyi's eyebrows rose slightly, visits to Dowager Wenhui were not uncommon, but venturing out in this weather suggested the Princess felt some urgency to the call.
As Princess Changning walked through the courtyards of the Forbidden City with her lady-in-waiting, she noticed how profoundly quiet everything was today. Perhaps it was simply the rain, which discouraged outdoor activity and muffled the usual sounds of palace life. Or perhaps it was something else, a tension that had nothing to do with weather and everything to do with the political currents swirling across East Asia.
How she wished, with an intensity that surprised her, that everything could remain as peaceful and tranquil as the Forbidden City appeared in this moment. The rain, the quiet, the sense of being suspended outside ordinary time, if only this could be the permanent state of things rather than a temporary illusion created by weather.
The rain had diminished somewhat as they walked, transitioning from steady downpour to gentle drizzle. By the time Princess Changning and Xinyi arrived at the Ancestral Hall, only scattered droplets continued to fall, creating delicate ripples in the puddles that dotted the ancient stone pathways.
The hall predated the current dynasty, surviving multiple renovations. Centuries of exposure had darkened the wood, softened the carved decorations, and given the roof tiles a distinctive patina. Yet inside, the space remained meticulously maintained. An incense stick burned perpetually before the ancestral tablets, its fragrant smoke rising toward the rafters, carrying prayers to those who had come before.
"Xinyi, you can wait around here. I'll be inside for some time," Princess Changning instructed as they reached the hall's entrance.
"Understood, Your Highness," Xinyi replied simply, taking up a position beneath the covered walkway where she would remain dry while maintaining her vigil.
Princess Changning stepped across the threshold into the ancestral hall, and immediately the atmosphere changed around her. The smell of incense, sandalwood mixed with other rare aromatics filled her nostrils with familiar comfort. The air inside felt charged with something beyond architecture—the weight of memory, of countless ceremonies performed over centuries, of grief and reverence crystallized into sacred space.
She began walking slowly through the hall, her footsteps nearly silent on the polished wooden floors, hoping to locate her aunt among the various chambers and alcoves. Then a voice emerged from an adjoining room.
"Xuan'er, is that you?"
The use of her personal name rather than her title made Princess Changning smile. Only family used that name, and even among family, only those closest to her.
"Yes, Auntie. I have come to pay you a visit," Princess Changning replied with genuine cheerfulness, moving into the main hall and gracefully settling herself on the floor cushions arranged for meditation and prayer.
A woman emerged from the side chamber, and despite having seen her aunt countless times, Princess Changning always felt a moment of appreciation for how Dowager Wenhui carried herself. Her hair was arranged in elaborate fashion despite her seclusion, old habits from decades at court died hard—held in place by simple jade pins rather than the elaborate golden ornaments she would have worn in her youth. She wore a long green traditional dress that occupied the middle ground between magnificence and shabbiness, quality fabric and excellent tailoring, but without ostentation or excess decoration.
Her face bore the lines of five decades of life, yet her skin remained remarkably clear and well-maintained. The fundamental features of her face remained striking—long, narrow eyes that seemed to see more than they revealed, plump lips that suggested sensuality even in old age. It was immediately evident that in her youth, Dowager Wenhui must have been a considerable beauty.
This was Dowager Wenhui, widow of the late Prince Cheng, who had been Emperor Xianhe's younger brother. Since Prince Cheng's death fifteen years ago, she had chosen to live in semi-seclusion adjacent to the Ancestral Hall, withdrawing almost completely from court life and the political intrigues that consumed so many at the palace.
"Xuan'er, you have not visited my humble residence for quite some time. I was beginning to worry you might have forgotten about your old aunt entirely," Dowager Wen said with a gentle smile, placing her hands affectionately on Princess Changning's shoulders, a gesture that would be unthinkably familiar from anyone else but was cherished coming from this woman who had been like a second mother to her.
"It's not like that at all, Auntie," Princess Changning protested, looking up into her aunt's eyes with an expression that was almost pleading for understanding. "There have been so many events at the palace recently, the wedding preparations, the ceremony itself, all the diplomatic functions. And I've also been trying to improve my calligraphy skills. I simply haven't been able to find time to visit as often as I would like."
She was being honest. The wedding had consumed weeks of preparation, and in its aftermath, she had thrown herself into calligraphy practice with unusual intensity, using the discipline required for proper brushwork as a way to organize thoughts that otherwise threatened to spiral into confusion.
"What brings my dear Xuan'er here on such a dreary day, then?" Dowager Wen asked, her smile widening as she studied her niece's face with the eye of someone who had spent decades reading the subtle expressions of court ladies. "It is not every day I receive visitors, especially when the weather makes travel so unpleasant."
The question was gentle but probing, Dowager Wen knew that her niece had not ventured out in the rain merely for a social call.
Princess Changning turned her gaze toward the courtyard visible through the hall's open side, watching raindrops create expanding circles in the puddles before responding. "Auntie, I don't know if you've noticed from your seclusion here, but things feel different at the palace these days. There's a tension I can't quite identify. I don't understand why everyone seems so anxious, why even Father seems to be avoiding all his children recently."
Her voice was soft, almost vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed herself to be with anyone else.
"They must have their reasons for discretion, dear Xuan'er," Dowager Wen replied slowly. "You cannot always demand to know everything immediately, no matter how frustrating the uncertainty feels. You are a princess, yes, but you are also young. Eventually, when the time is right, you will learn whatever truths they are currently withholding. Trust in that."
She spoke gently, but Princess Changning could detect something in her aunt's eyes, not quite sadness, but perhaps a kind of resigned understanding of uncomfortable realities.
"But Auntie Wen, it doesn't feel good, this sense of being kept in darkness," Princess Changning continued, a slight pout forming on her lips, a childlike expression she would never show in formal court settings. "Everyone around me seems so solemn these days, walking around as though carrying heavy burdens they cannot share. Even Father, who has always been open with me, now avoids my questions with vague reassurances. It's like he's deliberately avoiding me."
"I understand completely, Xuan'er," Dowager Wen said sympathetically, moving toward a side room and emerging moments later carrying a tray bearing a teapot and several porcelain cups. "Your father is naturally an extraordinarily busy person, the entire empire rests on his shoulders. It is perhaps simply that he has not yet found the right moment or the right words to explain whatever is troubling the court. When has he ever deliberately kept you in darkness about matters that concern you directly? Have faith in his love for you."
She set the tray on a low table between them, then poured tea into the two cups with precise movements. "Come, have some tea. It will help with the chill."
"Thank you, Auntie," Princess Changning smiled, accepting the cup with both hands in a gesture of respect. She took a careful sip, the tea was indeed warming, its heat spreading pleasantly through her chest.
"Auntie, why didn't you attend the wedding?" Princess Changning asked after a moment of comfortable silence. "It was such a grand spectacle, foreign dignitaries from across the world, ceremonies that hadn't been performed in generations. Everyone said it was the most magnificent wedding in living memory." She paused, and her voice dropped, losing its brightness. "I miss Sister Jia Ling terribly though. The palace feels emptier without her."
There was profound sadness in her voice as she spoke of her eldest sister, now permanently gone to Japan.
Dowager Wen closed her eyes briefly, and a slight smile appeared on her lips, though whether it was truly a smile or merely an expression of acceptance, Princess Changning couldn't quite determine.
"Xuan'er, I haven't left the grounds of the Ancestral Hall since your uncle departed this world fifteen years ago," Dowager Wen explained quietly. "For me, the active political and social life of the palace belongs to a different existence entirely, one I chose to leave behind when I lost the person who made it meaningful. Watching the ceremonies, the intrigue, the careful diplomatic dances... it would feel like observing life through glass, present but not truly participating."
She paused, considering her next words carefully. "Your sister offered herself for the nation, and that represents a kind of courage and selflessness I'm not certain I could have demonstrated at her age. I didn't attend the wedding because..." Her voice became heavier. "Because I couldn't bring myself to watch her leave. Seeing her dressed in wedding finery, knowing she was departing for a foreign land where she would spend the rest of her days among strangers... I simply lacked the strength to witness that particular sorrow."
Princess Changning felt her eyes beginning to sting with unshed tears. "I don't know if she'll even be treated well in Japan. I worry about her constantly, whether she's lonely, whether they respect her position, whether she regrets her sacrifice. The reports we receive are always so formal and proper, but they tell us nothing about how she actually feels."
Dowager Wen reached over and gently stroked Princess Changning's hair in a gesture of comfort. "Xuan'er, I understand your worry, and it is completely natural for a sister to feel such concern. But remember that Ankang is a princess of the Jin Dynasty, she carries herself with dignity and strength. She will be treated according to her rank, and the Japanese court, whatever their other faults, understands the importance of honoring such alliances. The only thing we can truly do from here is wish her well with her new family and trust in her resilience."
"Auntie, I do want her to be happy," Princess Changning said, looking directly into Dowager Wen's eyes. "But I cannot help feeling that she must be profoundly lonely in that foreign country, surrounded by people who speak a different language, follow different customs, whose entire way of seeing the world is different to our own."
"Of course it is not beyond possibility—indeed, it is quite likely that she feels lonely, especially in these early months," Dowager Wen acknowledged. "But this is the life of a princess, dear Xuan'er. We are born to serve the dynasty and the nation, and sometimes that service requires great personal sacrifice. Your sister understood this when she accepted the match. And I am confident she will adapt to her new life, she has been raised with the education and strength of character necessary to flourish even in difficult circumstances."
Princess Changning pondered her aunt's words for several long moments, listening to the rain that had begun falling more heavily again outside. The sound of water on tiles and stone created a rhythmic backdrop to her thoughts.
"Do you think my fate is the same as Sister Jia Ling's?" Princess Changning asked finally, still gazing out the window rather than meeting her aunt's eyes. "Will I too be sent away to secure an alliance, to live among strangers in service to the empire?"
The question hung in the air between them, heavy with implications neither wanted to fully examine.
"I cannot say for certain, dear Xuan'er," Dowager Wen replied with careful honesty. "There are forces and circumstances far beyond our control, great currents of politics and power that sweep individuals along regardless of their preferences or desires. For those of us born to the imperial family, this is even more pronounced. Our roles and our personal lives cannot be easily separated, they are fundamentally intertwined. That is why I counsel you not to dwell excessively on questions of fate. Instead, focus on the present moment, on fulfilling your current duties with grace and excellence. You have been blessed with birth into the highest position in the realm by the mandate of Heaven, this brings responsibilities, yes, but also profound meaning and purpose."
She spoke with the quiet conviction of someone who had spent decades contemplating these exact questions.
Princess Changning continued staring out at the rain, watching individual droplets fall onto the stone surface of the courtyard and bounce upward before settling into growing puddles. The patterns were random yet somehow soothing in their constancy.
"What are you thinking about so intently, Xuan'er?" Dowager Wen asked after allowing her niece several minutes of silent contemplation. A look of concern flickered across her weathered features as she sipped her own tea.
Princess Changning slowly turned her head away from the window to face her aunt. "Nothing in particular, Auntie. I was simply reflecting on the wisdom of what you said about focusing on the present rather than worrying about an uncertain future."
Dowager Wen reached over and petted her niece's hair again with gentle affection. "Is something specific bothering my dear Xuan'er? I have known you since you were a small child, and I can sense when something weighs on your heart beyond the normal concerns of daily life."
She studied Princess Changning's face with the particular intensity, trying to read beneath surface expressions.
"Not at all, Auntie," Princess Changning replied, but even as the words emerged, she wasn't entirely certain they represented truth. Because there was indeed something bothering her, something she couldn't quite articulate even to herself.
Her thoughts kept returning, unbidden, to a foreign officer who had seemed so respectful and dignified despite being in an unfamiliar environment. The Hanseatic Captain had left an impression she couldn't quite understand or dismiss. The way he had stood perfectly still when she brushed a leaf from his shoulder, the careful way he maintained proper distance and protocol, his evident struggle to use chopsticks rather than request familiar utensils—all of it suggested someone of genuine principle.
"Xuan'er, do not overburden yourself with thoughts that bring no peace or clarity," Dowager Wen advised. "You are an imperial princess, and from what I observe, you have carried your responsibilities with admirable grace and competence. You do honor to our family."
"Auntie, I want very much to fulfill my responsibilities as a princess," Princess Changning replied thoughtfully. "I don't see duty as a burden exactly, but rather as... as the purpose for which I was born. It gives meaning to my existence."
"Then what could possibly be making my Xuan'er so unusually introspective today?" Dowager Wen pressed gently, her tone carrying curiosity mixed with loving concern. "You seem to be wrestling with something beyond ordinary concerns." She paused deliberately before adding, "Or perhaps your thoughts are occupied by something... or someone... ?"
The room fell completely silent for several long moments after Dowager Wen posed this question. The only sounds were the rain outside and the faint crackle of incense burning before the ancestral tablets.
Princess Changning felt something jolt inside her chest—a sudden acceleration of her heartbeat that she couldn't entirely control. Was the Hanseatic Captain truly making her introspective? She tried to examine the question objectively. He was certainly handsome in a foreign way, tall by Chinese standards, with strong youthful features and those striking dark eyes. He had demonstrated impeccable manners throughout their limited interactions, showing awareness of hierarchies and protocols despite being in an unfamiliar culture. He carried himself with quiet dignity rather than the pompous self-importance many foreign officials displayed.
But they lived in completely different worlds, separated by thousands of miles of ocean and mountain. For him to be affecting her thoughts seemed absurd. Her concerns should be focused on her sister Ankang, on the mysterious tensions at court, on her own duties and development—not on a foreign officer she had spoken with for perhaps a few hours total during that wedding ceremony.
"Auntie, what are you even suggesting?" Princess Changning protested, scrunching her nose in a playfully defensive gesture. "I'm simply worried about Sister and concerned about the atmosphere at court. Nothing more mysterious than that."
"I simply observe that my dear Xuan'er is growing into an ever more beautiful and thoughtful young woman with each passing season," Dowager Wen replied with a knowing smile. "And not every man who might seek your attention is worthy of it—most, in fact, are not. Of course I want Xuan'er to eventually be matched with a responsible, honorable man who will treat her with the respect and devotion she deserves. As it happens, I know of several wonderful potential suitors whose families have expressed interest..."
Princess Changning felt her face flush with warmth at this direction of conversation. "Auntie! I'm still far too young to be thinking seriously about such matters. There's no need to be discussing suitors and marriage matches, that can wait for years yet."
She quickly raised her teacup and took a long drink, using the gesture to avoid meeting her aunt's eyes and hopefully conceal the color she could feel rising in her cheeks.
But when Dowager Wen had spoken those words—"responsible and honorable man"—an image of Kylian had involuntarily appeared in her mind. She saw him bowing with perfect form, maintaining respectful distance even when she had stepped close to remove that leaf, standing motionless in the moonlight with disciplined stillness. The memory came with surprising clarity and unwelcome intensity, and she felt her cheeks growing even warmer.
Dowager Wen let out a small laugh, barely audible but unmistakably amused, as she watched her niece's reactions with the perceptive understanding of someone who had observed countless young women navigating first awareness of romantic possibility.
Suitors? This was probably one of Dowager Wen's gentle teasing tactics, her way of trying to lift her niece's spirits. Yet those words—honorable, responsible—continued echoing in Princess Changning's mind, and with them came the unbidden memory of that foreign captain who had demonstrated exactly those qualities despite being so far from his own culture and support systems.
"I am simply saying, dear Xuan'er, that these are considerations that will become relevant sooner than you might prefer to acknowledge," Dowager Wen continued casually. "You seem quite flustered by the mere mention of the topic. Did you perhaps have someone particular in mind when I spoke of honorable men?"
The question was asked with deliberate casualness, but Princess Changning could hear the genuine curiosity beneath it.
"Auntie! What kind of question is that?" Princess Changning turned her head to the side, deliberately avoiding Dowager Wen's penetrating gaze. "You're making assumptions based on nothing."
But she felt something in her heart, a flutter of confused emotion she couldn't quite identify or explain. She thought of the Hanseatic Captain again, but surely that was only because he had been a well-mannered and respectful person she had encountered recently. That was the entirety of it, wasn't it? Or was there something more, some connection she was afraid to acknowledge because doing so would force her to confront impossibilities?
She couldn't quite tell. When she tried to examine her feelings directly, Kylian appeared in her mind only in fragments—the precise way he bowed, the controlled stillness of his posture, the slight smile when she had teased him about the chopsticks, the careful words he had chosen when they discussed philosophy and governance. The pieces wouldn't quite assemble into a complete picture, as though her mind was protecting her from seeing something too clearly.
Dowager Wen simply stood up with a soft chuckle, moving toward her private chamber. "I am very much looking forward to that day when you bring someone to introduce to your old aunt, dear Xuan'er," she said as she disappeared into the adjoining room. "The joy in your eyes when you speak of someone you've come to care for, that will be a precious gift to witness."
Princess Changning remained sitting on the cushion, watching her aunt retreat into the other room, the sounds of rain in the background growing louder as the spring storm intensified once more. She continued gazing out at the falling rain, at the way it transformed the familiar courtyard into something slightly mysterious and otherworldly.
She hoped that things would become clearer with time, that the confusion she felt would resolve itself into simple understanding, that the strange persistence of certain memories would fade into normal forgetting, that the questions her aunt had raised would find obvious answers that didn't complicate her life or her duties.
But as she sat there watching the rain and remembering fragments of moonlight and conversation and brief, electric moments of connection, Princess Changning suspected that clarity might not come as easily as she hoped. Some questions, once raised, resisted simple resolution. Some memories, once formed, refused to fade regardless of how inconvenient their persistence might be.