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action seeing as we had an ocean for our southern border. Jing-lung would be a fine match for a minister’s daughter, or perhaps one of my cousins, but not for a princess. It would have helped if he was also a geomancer. The gift was not always passed on to one’s children, but bearing such a blessing would surely enrich any household.
    Ten days later, Mung-laan was beaten for allowing me to so openly consort with a man in public. Never mind anything that might have happened in the private room at Madame Wu’s, though my maids had been in earshot the entire time and Sek-fung had not leaped to my defense. Jing-lung was sent away to fight on the western frontier. Imperial Father did not punish me himself. He knew what had happened to Mung-laan and Jing-lung would hurt deeper than any blow.
    On the day of my twenty-sixth birthday, Eunuch Lei dared to suggest to the Emperor that it was time for me to marry. Unlike a son, my reproductive years were limited, and as a woman I could not increase my chances for a child by taking concubines. Imperial Father silenced him with a glare so sharp Eunuch Lei fell to his knees and apologized for his impertinence. I had no doubt the Emperor was very aware that a held daughter could only wait so long before she was no longer of any use for the purpose she was held.
    For a period of time, Imperial Father had hope that he would no longer need me. When one of his concubines became heavy with child, the geomancers prayed daily around her, asking the Five Gods to deliver a healthy boy, but the palace was soon graced with a sixth princess, much to the chagrin of the Emperor. I could feel his black mood just walking past the door to his study.
    “What do you think of Minister Wing-gat’s son Chi-ji?” he asked me one night as we pored over a new proclamation.
    “He is quick to speak,” I said, “and like a charging bull he does not easily stop, but he has a sharp mind. We can use him.”
    Imperial Father nodded with approval of my assessment, but I thought I saw a shadow darken his face. Perhaps he had not been considering a government appointment and instead a son-in-law. But Chi-ji was not fit to be the consort of a wongdai . An empress must let her husband rule, and so must any consort of mine should I be formally named heir. It was a reversal a man would find difficult. Some men answered to their wives regardless through force of personality, but for me, my husband would answer as well to the Daughter of Heaven.
    “How about Magistrate Chung-ping of Ying Ga?” said the Emperor.
    “The Ying Ga corruption was investigated by him, but I have heard that he was a part of the scandal and covered his involvement by turning against the officials beneath him.” I grimaced. “And he already has a wife.”
    Imperial Father gave me a sharp look and I realized I had spoken out of turn. Magistrate Chung-ping was surely not for me. A wongdai would never be concubine to another man.
    Jing-lung married during this time, and though I was disappointed, I knew it would happen. His family would not allow him to remain unmarried forever. He had redeemed himself out on the frontier and come back with victories enough that Imperial Father named him sub-commander to the General of the West. He was a man to be proud of, but when I next saw him in the palace I found I didn’t want to ask him about his campaign, or hear the story from his own lips, about how he had saved the wounded General Song from the barbarians and rallied his undermanned battalion to hold their fort.
    So when I saw him, walking out from the audience hall and into the courtyard, I just asked him, “Are you all right?”
    And I watched him standing there, knowing who I was, but uncertain of himself. He looked splendid in his formal robes with the lion insignia of his rank emblazoned on the front, and I thought the red and black felt cap of an official suited him especially well. He lifted his arms, then dropped them to his sides and bowed.