Chapter Text
Imperial funerals are circuses and feeding grounds. The world turns up not just for the spectacle of vast armies of weeping mourners, miles of white sashes and white paper offerings strewn to the winds. They also turn up, like vultures, to watch for signs on how they might snatch an opportunistic bite as they welcome in a new Emperor.
The death of the late and very-much-lamented first Emperor of the Ming Dynasty is no exception.
Lady Te’Muer and her brother, Lord Te’Muer, are here together in a show of neighborly solidarity in time of crisis- but also, everyone assumes, to establish relations with the young Crown Prince and his reagent.
Wuji, you can’t die. I forbid you from dying. You hear me?
They are in a line, thousands long, to walk from the gates of the Forbidden City into the inner courtyard, where they will, in batches, pay their last respects.
You said you would do three things for me. I told you to stay and live. You promised me!
It is customary to ritualistically and sporadically wail and cry while in line to show your grief.
Wuji, everything’s become topsy-turvy since I heard the news. My whole world is not what I thought it was. Come back and turn it right way up again for me?
But Lady Te’Muer moves in total silence. She looks neither left nor right, nor at the other mourners but straight ahead.
Do you remember Wuji? I once told I would always win because I was more ruthless than you but as it turns out, I was wrong about that.
You left me behind without a whisper, a note, or even a backward glance. When did you learn to be so hard-hearted?
Occasionally silent tears will trail, as if unbidden, unnoticed down her face, but she doesn’t bother to either cover or wipe them.
I told you not to come to me, and that I wouldn’t be waiting, but I’m not made of rock or wood, I’m not heartless, if you had said something, anything, I would have come to say goodbye. Oh Wuji, how could you?
In her unadorned, white Han gown, she was the very picture of a grieving Han-lady-widow. By-standers approved of her culturally correct stance.
You told me you felt like you knew nothing when you were with me. As it turns out that was wrong too. It is I who knew nothing of us two. I never knew love could be so lasting, longing so sweet. I didn’t know that you being alive and well, even if far away, was what kept me going.
Lord Te’Muer’s presence is also a great honor- he is after all now Grand Commander of the Khan’s vast army.
If only I could have told you how proud I have been of you. How it was knowing that you were here, trying, pushing that kept me going too in the bleakest, most hopeless moments. How it was loving you, knowing you were well, you were alive, that kept me sane.
Today though, Lord Te’Muer appears to be mostly here as the supportive brother. As occasional tears trail down the Lady’s face, Lord Te’Muer would sigh deeply, lean over and gruffly wipe at her face for her. As if Lady Te’Muer were his six-year-old baby sister again.
Is there an afterlife Wuji? I was never sure, but all I can do now is hope there is one. Because if there is, wait for me there.
They arrive at the inner courtyard. This is the closest that mourners not of the Imperial family will be allowed to get to the coffin. Although they will not even get to see it, they do see a large painting of the Emperor on view.
Once my work is done, I’ll come and keep you company. If you wouldn't stay, then at least wait to take me with you!
And it is to this painting that she makes her ritual last bows. Slowly, deliberately, she touches her head to the ground once.
I’ll beg the Jade Emperor. I’ll bribe Erlik Khan. I’ll bargain with the King of Hades.
Twice.
No matter which heaven or hell you are at, no matter what it takes, I’ll find you. I’ll come to you. I wouldn’t let you walk your path alone again.
Thrice.
Just wait for me.
And it is then, that an odd thing happens.
Out from the Great Hall where the coffin lies, walk two figures dressed all in white trailed by a few Eunuchs. Both figures, one tall and one short, are clearly, even from afar, opulently dressed and moving with great grace.
The murmuring in the watching crowds increases many fold when the leading shorter figure is revealed to be the 12-year old hereto Crown Prince, soon to be crowned Emperor.
Although he is pale, the Prince’s wide eyes are bright and his gaze is steady and proud.
He has your beautiful eyes Wuji.
The figure that follows after draws even more startled glances: Minister Regent Yangxiao is effectively, until the young Crown Prince is of age, the most powerful man in the Ming Empire.
The murmuring around them increases again when it is clear that the duo are making straight for the Mongolian delegation.
Mourners throw themselves to the ground in formal bows as the Prince-soon-to-be-Emperor, walks past them. The Prince stops right in front of Lady Te’Muer and signals for the Eunuchs to help her stand.
“My Lady Te’Muer, your presence and your grace do much honor to this funeral. My tutors have spoken to me often about your great work, and my Ah Ma once told me that you are not just a pillar of Yuan but of the Ming Empire as well.”
Behind the Crown Prince, Regent Yang looks thoughtfully at Lady Te’Muer’s tear-stained, drawn face and at Lord Te’Muer supporting her gently. Only Regent Yang is paying enough attention to her when the Crown Prince says “My Ah Ma told me…” and sees her gaze dart at the Prince hungrily, her eyes wide, at his words.
“It is in honor of that, that my departed Ah Ma left me special instructions about yourself. Lady Te’Muer, I would be honored if you would come with me to the inner sanctuary to pay your respects.”
Mourners around them gasp aloud at this. Gossip-mongers will be kept busy for weeks speculating about how it is that Lady Te’Muer is accorded this singular honor. But in this case, gossip will fall well short of the surprising truth.
Lady Te’Muer lets go of Lord Te’Muer’s arm, then, slowly, she drops to her knees, burying her head in her arms. It is such a classic Han posture of grief and gratitude that everyone is briefly startled and touched.
Regent Yang smiles a mysterious smile.
As they step over the threshold from the Courtyard into the Great Hall, Regent Yang is seen to graciously assist the lady by holding her hand and whispering to her, presumably cautioning her about the tall steps ahead.
No one sees the note he passes to her as he does so.
No one will see her tears of relief, anger, joy, when she reads the note.
Lady Te’Muer is recorded to have died just a few months after she returns from the funeral of the First Emperor of the Ming Dynasty.
She leaves behind just one brother, the formidable Lord Te’Muer.
Oddly Lord Te’Muer refused to attend his beloved sister’s funeral.
When pressed, his cryptic, gruff, and presumably religious comment was “She’s finally where she damn-well wants to be, doing what she damn-well wants to do with the damned person she wants to do those things with! Why should I go wail at her 'grave'?”
Somewhere deep in Mongolia there is a grassland.
On this grassland ride two silhouettes on two beautiful horses, running, side-by-side, splashing through streams and racing the winds, chasing stars and calling out to each other, laughing.
If no history books ever record their true story, nor anyone recognize the sacrifice they made for people they will never see, it matters not in the least to them as they wander, free at last, beyond where there are such things as right or wrong, good or evil, us or them.