Chapter Text
Yuan Ying does not want to marry. She will make some man a competent wife, she knows, but she is far more suited to politics than marriage. She wants to be an official, if not her father’s heir. She would be better at it than any of her brothers.
But the world she lives in does not permit women to hold such dreams.
The first time she bows to her father and requests a position on his council, he laughs.
The second time, he beats her.
The third, fourth, and fifth times, he beats her harder.
The dream cannot be beaten out of Yuan Ying, because she knows she is capable. Her father and brothers are content to use her for her brain, as long as she doesn’t overstep—as long as she doesn’t dare to voice a wish to step beyond the boundaries that society has imposed upon her sex.
The marriage she has been offered is presented to her like a cruel parody of her dreams.
“You’ve always been hungry for power,” says her father. “And so I’ve given you away to the prince I think is most likely to take the throne. Never let it be said that I was an unfeeling father.”
When Yuan Ying protests, she is beaten again—just enough to hurt, because the bruises must fade before her wedding day.
In the carriage to the province of Xin that is to be her home from now on, Yuan Ying finds that there is a bright side to this travesty.
If she can make the best of her situation, then she will be Empress. She will have certain authorities over all the provinces, including her father’s.
It’s not what she’d hoped. But she has tried and failed to make a place for herself in her father’s court. Her brothers are far more self-involved and far less clever than her father—once one of them takes their father’s place, there will be no hope of Yuan Ying ever making a place for herself.
Better that she establish herself here, and make her mark. Perhaps, in time, she will even come to call this place home.
Yin Zheng’s first act on their wedding night is to ask for a divorce beneath the shade cast by Yuan Ying's cool gaze.
“I have a concubine, and I love her and she loves me,” he explains, and his demeanor is authoritative, but his eyes are desperate—a desperation Yuan Ying can recognize because she feels it in her very own soul.
“This is no matter to me,” Yuan Ying waves. “It’s a relief to me if I will be spared the indignity of wifely duties. I’m happy to be your partner in politics, and there I can promise I will be of use to you, but I’d rather not be your bedpartner.”
Yin Zheng stares.
“So…you want me to treat you as my partner, but not my wife,” he clarifies.
“Precisely.”
“But…a divorce is out of the question.”
Yuan Ying looks at him, and feels pity blossom in her chest.
There had been a time when she, too, had believed that she could change the status quo. That she could go against the powers that be and make a name for herself in her own right.
She knows better, now.
“Husband,” she says, gentle but firm with purpose, “if you were to divorce me, I would only be sold again to the next highest bidder, but this time in disgrace. I am offering you a marriage where we live in partnership, respecting each other’s boundaries. I have no wish to warm your bed, or that of any other man. Is that not enough? I will not come between you and your concubine.”
“The thing is,” presses Yin Zheng, because clearly it is not enough, “Li Wei comes from Ji province. They don’t take any concubines there, not ever. She wants—and deserves—a man who can give her the title of wife.”
“I’m so sorry,” says Yuan Ying. She puts as much sympathy into her voice as possible and does not reach out to touch him, because she does not want to send mixed signals. “But I didn’t want this either.
“Please,” says Yin Zheng, and drops to his knees before her. “Please, she’ll leave me if I can’t make her my wife.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Yuan Ying says. “I’ll explain that this marriage is a predicament for all of us. I’ll convince her to stay.”
Yuan Ying’s words do halt Li Wei from leaving, for a time.
Yuan Ying does her best to teach Li Wei etiquette and the ways of running a household, because she can see in the girl a desire to be more than merely Yin Zheng’s beloved.
The girl is empathetic and a good learner, and were her affections not fully engaged by their husband, Yuan Ying thinks she herself might have fallen for her.
But the world is not so forgiving, and Yuan Ying doesn’t even realize what emotional toll their marriage is taking on Li Wei until the banquet. Li Wei has planned it, orchestrated everything to perfection, but she is barred from attending as a courtesy to Yuan Ying.
Yuan Ying could strangle her mother-in-law.
When they come home that night to Li Wei, cold-faced and determined, a divorce letter already written, Yuan Ying’s heart plummets into her feet.
She wonders for a brief, wild moment if she could fix this by offering a divorce herself.
But Yuan Ying is too practical to turn such a thought into action.
Yin Zheng falls to his knees and begs Li Wei to reconsider.
Numb to her very soul, Yuan Ying joins him on her knees and begs.
Li Wei leaves anyway.
Yin Zheng ignores her for months afterwards, and Yuan Ying cannot fault him.
She never wanted to take Li Wei’s place. She never wanted to drive Li Wei out.
It’s in the somber cloud that falls over their manor after Li Wei’s departure that Yuan Ying realizes that she has, in her own way, loved Li Wei. She’d hoped to build a life entangled with hers.
It’s only fitting, she supposes, that like all her other hopes and dreams, this one, too, has been dashed.
But this time, Yuan Ying has no one to blame but herself. She could blame the world, the patriarchy and fathers that have forced them into this position, but to do so would be to flee accountability.
Yuan Ying is many things, but she is not one to deny her mistakes.
She accepts the air of sorrow and her husband’s silence as her due.