The Origins and Historical Context of Gantang Garden

Gantang Garden, with its breathtaking autumn scenery, was a place where Lady Huayang would often wander among the trees, losing herself in its beauty. The term “Gantang” refers to the tangli tree, also known as the wild pear tree in ancient times. Though called a pear, its fruits were small, astringent, and sour, making them largely unsuitable for eating except for brewing wine. Despite its unremarkable fruit, the Gantang tree possessed two extraordinary qualities: its wood was exceptionally versatile—its leaves could dye fabric, its timber could craft bows, and its fruit could ferment wine—leaving no part wasted. Moreover, its blossoms were stunningly beautiful, with white flowers resembling snow and red ones as vibrant as blood. In the golden hues of August, these blossoms would blaze brilliantly across the landscape, their petals and yellow leaves scattering in the autumn wind, painting a poignant yet enchanting scene.

The Gantang trees were most abundant in the former capital of the Shang dynasty, Zhaoge. Legend has it that when King Wu of Zhou led his crimson-armored troops to battle the white-clad forces of the Shang dynasty on the outskirts of Zhaoge, the clash of red and white was so intense that the Shang people likened it to a sea of Gantang blossoms. This gave rise to the saying, “like a raging fire,” which became a folk adage. After the Zhou dynasty conquered Shang, the benevolent minister Duke Zhao often lingered under the Gantang trees outside the charred ruins of Zhaoge, conversing with farmers and craftsmen. The common people, moved by his kindness, composed the widely circulated poem “Gantang”:

“Lush is the Gantang tree,
Do not cut it down or prune it,
For Duke Zhao rested beneath it.

Lush is the Gantang tree,
Do not break its branches,
For Duke Zhao took shelter under it.

Lush is the Gantang tree,
Do not harm its leaves,
For Duke Zhao found solace here.”

Since accompanying Queen Dowager Xuan into the state of Qin, Lady Huayang had grown fond of the Gantang blossoms of the Central Plains. Each autumn, as she strolled through the woods, admiring the fiery blossoms and falling leaves, a myriad of emotions welled up within her. Among the wives and concubines of the Crown Prince’s household, Lady Huayang stood alone in her solitude. Her isolation stemmed not only from her reclusive nature but also from a peculiar predicament. By status, she was the principal wife of the Crown Prince. By rank, she held the title of “Lady.” By both propriety and tradition, she should have been the undisputed mistress of the household, with all other women under her authority. Yet, one fatal flaw had turned everything upside down.

After twenty-three years of marriage, she had not borne a single child.

The rules of propriety were clear: the principal wife’s sons were the legitimate heirs, with the eldest son as the rightful successor. Children born to other concubines, even if older, could not replace the legitimate heir. If the principal wife had no children, a son from another concubine would be selected as the heir to inherit the family’s legacy and honor. Due to her childlessness, Lady Huayang’s position in the Crown Prince’s household gradually became precarious. During the time when Ying Zhu was not yet the Crown Prince, everything had been calm. She had even encouraged him to take more concubines and produce more sons to ensure a worthy heir in the future. However, once Ying Zhu became Crown Prince, the stakes grew exponentially: as the principal wife, she was poised to become the queen, while the concubines, unless they could secure titles like “Lady,” “Gentlewomen,” or “Eighth Rank,” would forever languish in the cold palace as neglected widows. The distinction between legitimate and illegitimate heirs meant the difference between becoming the heir apparent and a mere subject toiling for merit. With such vast disparities in fortune, the latent tensions erupted like a flood.

The concubines, each stunningly beautiful and mostly with one or two children, began to covet her position, scheming to replace her. During the Warring States period, the rules of propriety had already loosened, and the status of women in the court, like that of ministers, was not fixed, with personnel changes occurring frequently. It was entirely normal for those of lowly status to replace high-ranking nobles. Without delving into distant examples, the Qin court after Duke Xiao of Qin had undergone one upheaval after another, defying all logic.

Duke Xiao had a son with a Hu woman, who became King Huiwen of Qin. Had the Hu woman not left on her own, she would have become the queen. King Huiwen’s principal wife, Queen Huiwen, was talented but childless. She adopted Ying Dang (King Wu of Qin), the son of a Hu concubine, as her legitimate heir and made him Crown Prince. The Hu concubine then mysteriously fell ill and died. Another concubine of King Huiwen, the Chu woman Lady Mi Bazi, gave birth to Ying Ji. Due to conflicts with Queen Huiwen, both mother and son were sent as hostages to the state of Yan. When Ying Dang (King Wu of Qin) died suddenly after lifting a cauldron, Queen Huiwen, who had dominated the court throughout her life without a single defeat, mysteriously passed away shortly after Lady Mi Bazi and her son returned to Qin. Lady Mi Bazi, originally a distant relative of the Chu royal family sent to Qin as a gesture of goodwill, had held the lowly rank of “Eighth Rank” in the palace. However, her exceptional talent, quick wit, and boldness in stabilizing the state during turmoil earned her the illustrious title of Queen Dowager Xuan. Thanks to her, the Qin court henceforth saw an influx of Chu women, who, along with Hu women, became the two dominant groups in the Qin palace. King Zhaoxiang of Qin had six Chu concubines, and his queen was naturally a Chu woman of the Mi clan. The first Crown Prince he appointed, Ying Cuo, was the biological son of the Chu queen (Queen Mi).

Ying Cuo died of illness at thirty. Many years later, Ying Zhu, enfeoffed as Lord Anguo, was made Crown Prince.

From an illegitimate son to Lord Anguo, and from Lord Anguo to Crown Prince, Ying Zhu’s meteoric rise was entirely due to his mother. Ying Zhu’s mother was another anomaly among Qin palace women. Originally a woman from the state of Tang, she held the lowly rank of “Eighth Rank” and was known as Lady Tang Bazi. Petite and delicate as a jade figurine, intelligent and well-educated, with a charming disposition, she was deeply favored by King Zhaoxiang of Qin. However, mere favor was far from enough to propel the frail Ying Zhu from an illegitimate son to Crown Prince. After all, in terms of charm and talent, the palace women vied fiercely, each excelling in their own way. Faced with the unrestrained Hu women and the passionate Chu women, the diminutive Lady Tang Bazi, as small as her homeland, displayed extraordinary resilience. First, her literary talents earned the respect of Queen Dowager Xuan. Then, her supervision of the princes’ studies won the praise of King Zhaoxiang. When Prince Hui of Shu repeatedly caused trouble, she maintained a dignified tolerance and restraint, never engaging in overt confrontations. More remarkably, amid the court’s tangled conflicts, Lady Tang Bazi remained as charming and pure in the old king’s eyes as ever, never voicing grievances or disputes unless asked, devoting herself entirely to the king’s comfort. She had no dealings with powerful ministers, focusing solely on guiding her son Ying Zhu in self-cultivation and learning, nurturing the future king. The old king was deeply moved, often telling his concubines, “Lady Tang Bazi’s talents may not match the Queen Dowager’s, but her virtue surpasses it. If you all were like her, the court would be at peace!”

Thanks to Lady Tang Bazi, there was Lord Anguo, and then the new Crown Prince. With Lord Anguo and the new Crown Prince, the future Queen Dowager Tang seemed all but certain. Did the son rise due to the mother’s honor, or did the mother gain honor through the son? In the treacherous depths of the palace, with its sea of grudges, who could say for sure?

Lady Huayang’s predicament was even more challenging than those of Queen Huiwen, Queen Dowager Xuan, and Lady Tang Bazi.

Though Queen Huiwen and Lady Tang Bazi faced difficulties, they had sons to rely on. Lady Huayang had none. Queen Huiwen, though childless, had the foundational support of the old Qin nobility and a reputation for virtue and talent that resonated throughout the court and beyond. Lady Huayang had neither. Yet, as the saying goes, extraordinary circumstances call for extraordinary measures. Lady Huayang possessed unique qualities that set her apart; otherwise, she would have long since lost the standing to worry about securing an heir. Lady Huayang’s uniqueness lay in the delicate, gentle, and unhurried charm characteristic of women from Wu. Apart from her lack of interest in state affairs, she excelled in poetry, music, dance, and possessed innate talents in all these arts. In the bedchamber, she was endlessly alluring, and Crown Prince Ying Zhu found great pleasure in her company.

But what truly made Ying Zhu inseparable from her was her medical skills. As if by some mysterious decree, Lady Huayang’s father had also been frail and sickly, and from a young age, she had grown familiar with the sickbed. Unconsciously, she had learned numerous emergency medical techniques from the elderly physician in her household, mastering them with remarkable proficiency. Upon first entering the Crown Prince’s household, her keen intellect had already detected the scent of medicinal herbs in the air and the peculiar odor of illness on her husband.

On their wedding night, as Ying Zhu labored vigorously over her tender, fertile virgin soil, he suddenly collapsed weakly onto her bosom. Ignoring the blood beneath her and the indescribable pain and joy, she quickly turned over, pressing her damp body against his, breathing deeply into his mouth. As soon as her husband showed signs of recovery, she inserted two slender silver needles into the Zhongfu and Yinlingquan acupoints, then placed a large honeyed pill into his mouth with her tongue. Within half an hour, Ying Zhu was once again vigorous and energetic, throwing himself upon her. That night, she screamed herself hoarse. Later, Ying Zhu, reflecting on the incident, was astonished and asked if she hadn’t feared not summoning the royal physician. She merely smiled softly and said, “Naked and entwined, should we call the royal physician to witness? You must understand, while physicians treat illnesses, emergency care is something I excel at beyond their reach.” Ying Zhu was immensely relieved and from then on issued a secret directive to his attendants: in case of any mishap outside, they were to inform his wife immediately.

Thus, Lady Huayang felt little threat to her position as the principal wife. What truly weighed on her heart was the matter of securing an heir. Without a satisfactory heir, she would ultimately have no legacy…

“Ah! Little sister, you’re in high spirits! I’ve been searching for you everywhere!”

Lady Huayang turned abruptly to see a figure in嫩绿 emerging from the depths of the snow-white and blood-red Gantang grove, approaching with a smile. “Sister, you have time now? You must know, I was just thinking of you.” The woman in the green skirt was none other than Lady Huayue, who laughed loudly and said, “Ah! You’re so sweet-tongued, always knowing how to please your elder sister.” Lady Huayang smiled coquettishly, “Who told you to be so capable? If you’re not happy, who can I rely on?” With that, she affectionately took Lady Huayue’s hand. “Come, sister, sit in the thatched pavilion. I’ll play the qin and sing for you. I’ve written lyrics for ‘Gantang.’ What do you think? Would you like tea or wine?” Lady Huayue entered the pavilion, hastily wiping her forehead and flushed cheeks with a snow-white handkerchief, and laughed, “No tea, no wine, no songs—another time. Today, your elder sister rushed here for a word and must leave soon. I don’t have time for your leisurely chatter.” Lady Huayang pouted playfully, “Since when have I ever decided anything? I’ve always followed your lead. When have you ever needed my opinion?” Lady Huayue giggled, pressing Lady Huayang onto a stone stool: “Ah! Who told you to have such a good husband! For trivial matters, your elder sister can decide. But for your important affairs, who else should I listen to but you?” Lady Huayang mischievously stuck out her tongue: “Yah! It’s not like I monopolize my good husband. Sister, you’re the one who shares him.” “You little minx!” Lady Huayue blushed, tapping Lady Huayang’s smooth forehead with a finger, then suddenly lowered her voice, “Is there no one else in the woods?” Lady Huayang shook her head repeatedly: “No, no, no, just the Gantang trees and me. Speak freely!”

Lady Huayue whispered for half an hour, then smiled and said, “Well? It’s up to you now.”

Lady Huayang bit her lip, silent for a moment, then sighed deeply: “Sister’s plan is sound. At this point, this is the only path left, whether it works or not, we must try. In judging people and assigning tasks, I’m not as capable as you. If you trust this person, then it’s him.”

“Your elder sister trusts him!” Lady Huayue slapped the stone table. “Such matters are better handled privately than officially. Old Cai Ze would only tie his own hands and feet. As long as this man uncovers the details of Yiren’s situation, we can devise a plan for his return to Qin. Even if he deceives us, your elder sister has a backup plan.” With that, she whispered another secret.

“Sister, you’re too ruthless.” Lady Huayang laughed. “Very well, I leave it to you.”

“If he’s honest, I’ll have no issues. Your elder sister knows how to handle things.” Lady Huayue stood up. “You just wander off, no need to see me out slowly.” With a light breeze, her嫩绿 skirt disappeared into the snow-white and blood-red Gantang grove.

The next morning, a light frost covered the ground, and a thin mist enveloped the plains of Guanzhong.

As the sun climbed the mountain peaks, the landscape was bathed in an endless朦胧 golden-red. Amid the hazy autumn scenery, a small black-sailed boat leisurely drifted out of the Fengjing Valley, heading southeast. After traveling about thirty li, the vast waters ahead came into view, where the Feng River merged into the mighty Wei River. A short while later, the watchtower of Xianyang’s south gate faintly appeared, and a long white stone bridge spanned the Wei River, resembling a celestial palace in the light frost and mist. On either side of the bridge, boats gathered like clouds, their masts like a forest, with four piers stretching along both banks, extending over twenty li, turning the entire plain into a vast water city. As the light boat approached from the east, the sounds of unloading cargo, shouts of docking and departing, calls of ferry passengers, and the clamor of carriages and horses on the bridge created a bustling, lively atmosphere. Despite the chilly autumn wind and misty haze, there was no sense of desolation.

To the west of the bridge was the upstream dock, where boats were slightly稀疏. A large ship with high masts and white sails stood out conspicuously. The black-sailed boat gradually approached, and from its bow came three clear notes from an ox horn—one long followed by two short. The large ship immediately unfurled a white flag and responded with two melodious horn blasts. A small white-flagged boat swiftly detached from the large ship’s side and rowed toward the black-sailed boat. In moments, the two boats met, and a figure in green crossed the gangplank. The white-flagged boat quickly returned to the large ship.

Three long horn blasts sounded, and from the large ship came a chorus of shouts: “Welcome, our esteemed guest! May our hearts unite across the seas!”

“Ah! Such a grand welcome, sir. Your rules are quite elaborate.” A woman in a green cloak laughed on the ship’s bow.

Lü Buwei clasped his hands and smiled, “Old merchant customs: whenever a guest arrives, the entire ship greets them with courtesy, fostering harmony and prosperity. In haste, I didn’t alter the tradition. Please forgive me, my lady.”

“Fresh and lively, it’s the merchant’s true nature. Why change it?”

“Please, my lady, enter the cabin and be seated.” Lü Buwei stepped aside, and a young woman in Chu attire approached with a bow, saying, “Please follow me, my lady,” leading Lady Huayue into the main cabin, while the old steward Ximen guarded the door.

Inside the cabin, without any instruction from Lü Buwei, the Chu-attired young woman swiftly arranged everything and quietly left. The简洁密闭 cabin was filled with the aroma of tea. Lady Huayue looked around and smiled, “Sir, your merchant ventures are quite impressive. Even a maidservant is so capable—rare indeed.” Lü Buwei smiled, “This girl excels in the tea ceremony. My lady, please taste this震泽 green tea.” Lady Huayue then noticed the teacup on the table. The羊脂般的 white jade cup held a柔和碧绿 liquid, soothing to the eye. She took a sip and exclaimed in admiration, “Ah! Excellent tea! Fragrant and pure,醇厚温润,醉人的 green!” Lü Buwei laughed heartily, “My lady is a connoisseur! You’ve captured the essence of震泽绿春. I am impressed.” Lady Huayue waved her hand dismissively, “These words I learned from others, they don’t count. To truly appreciate震泽绿春, no one surpasses my little sister. It’s a pity she can’t enjoy this.” Lü Buwei smiled, “Merchants specialize in circulating goods. Such matters are easily arranged. I’ve prepared a basket of fresh震泽绿春 for you,