Flowery Hair: A Maidservant

Chapter 480 Consort Chun's Childbirth (2)

The door to the palace was covered by a thick cotton curtain, blocking out most of the sounds of wind and rain outside.

It has been three hours since Consort Chun was helped into the delivery room.

Meng Shu stayed by her side, repeatedly wiping her sweat-dampened forehead with a handkerchief dipped in warm water, while muttering to herself. She tried to keep her voice gentle, but her fingertips turned white from the force. She was afraid that if she stopped, the stench of blood and medicine filling the room would engulf her.

Consort Chun was only in intermittent coma, occasionally awakened by excruciating pain, letting out a few broken cries of agony.

The midwife knelt before the bed, her voice filled with barely concealed urgency, "Your Majesty, push harder! You're only six centimeters dilated. We've already used the labor-inducing medicine twice. If we keep going like this..." The rest of her words caught in her throat, and she dared not say them.

Consort Chun's unfocused gaze met Meng Shu's. Her lips moved, but she could only manage to utter half a sentence: "Shu'er... I can't go on..."

"Nonsense!" Meng Shu gripped her hand tightly, her palm burning hot. She spoke incoherently, "Have you forgotten our promise to take the baby to Taiye Pond to release lanterns next Mid-Autumn Festival? Have you forgotten those little clothes you embroidered? Wan'er, give it your all, you're almost there!"

Even so, her heart was already in turmoil. Consort Chun had already suffered a miscarriage due to the shock, and after all this time, even her breathing was labored and labored.

Zhang, the maid sent by Empress Dowager Zhou, quietly tugged at Meng Shu's sleeve and whispered, "Your Majesty, this can't go on like this. I just asked Physician He and Physician Li. If the cervix is ​​not fully dilated to ten centimeters, we can use a bowl of labor-inducing medicine."

Meng Shu suppressed the tears welling up in her eyes, leaned close to Consort Chun's ear, and said in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Tang Qingwan! You've been waiting for this pregnancy for so long. This is the last hurdle on our journey from Lin'an to the capital!"

Before the words were finished, Consort Chun seemed to be pierced by the name, and suddenly let out a shrill cry of pain. Her whole body convulsed violently, and her knuckles gripped Meng Shu's wrist tightly.

"Quickly!" Meng Shu quickly pressed down on her shoulder, took the medicine bowl from Aunt Mei's hand, and leaned slightly to press the medicine into Consort Chun's mouth. However, Consort Chun's jaw was loose, and the brown medicine dripped down her chin, most of it spilling onto the bed covered with a brocade quilt with phoenix patterns.

Upon seeing this, Meng Shu's eyes sharpened, and she promptly stuffed a prepared ginseng slice under her tongue.

The midwife bent down to check and called out urgently, "Almost there, Your Highness, push a little harder!"

Mengzhu also took half a step forward, staring at Consort Chun's face and crying out, "Your Majesty, please hold on! The young master is waiting to see you!"

Consort Chun seemed to have squeezed all her strength from her very bones, and a heart-wrenching cry of pain burst from her throat. The sound was not like a human voice, but rather like the roar of a trapped beast in a desperate situation.

Meng Shu felt a sharp pain in her wrist, followed by a loud shout from the midwife: "Almost fully dilated, Your Highness, gather your strength, it'll be over soon."

The rain continued to fall intermittently, pattering against the glazed tiles like drumbeats hanging over people's hearts.

Outside the Chan Pavilion, in the Huining Hall's flower hall.

The Emperor and the two Empress Dowagers rushed over upon hearing the news and had been waiting there for a long time.

Empress Dowager Zhou looked sickly, sitting on a cushioned rosewood chair with her brows furrowed. Her face was flushed with anxiety, and she coughed softly every now and then, clutching her chest. Her gaze kept glancing towards the delivery room.

Rongxiu followed the instructions and stood guard in the corridor outside the maternity ward, tiptoeing to watch for any movement behind the cotton curtain.

Empress Dowager Jiang was equally worried and paced back and forth in the flower hall.

Consort Shun, Consort Qi, Consort Yun, and other concubines stood outside the hall with their hands at their sides. Their palace attire cast low shadows in the dim light, and none of them dared to utter a sound.

Only the Empress knelt alone in the hall, her face still streaked with tears, choking back sobs as she pleaded for forgiveness: "It was all my oversight. I only instructed Granny Gui to send over some nourishing medicinal herbs, but that unruly servant had no tact and actually said some things to my sister..."

Her shoulders trembled slightly as she shifted all the blame onto Granny Gui.

The Emperor's eyes were like ice, and he never asked the Empress to get up.

Hearing her words, he finally spoke: "Consort Chun has a history of liver stagnation, and this pregnancy is already difficult. If something happens because of this, for her sake and to appease the Marquis of Lin'an's family, I will not let you off lightly."

These words struck the Empress like a heavy hammer, causing her to stagger slightly. However, she quickly regained her composure and said, "I know I have failed in my duty of disciplining my concubine. I only hope that Consort Chun will be blessed with good fortune and give birth to the imperial heir safely."

Seeing that the Emperor was angry and the Empress was kneeling on the ground, Consort Shun and the others dared not stand any longer. They quickly followed the rules and knelt down behind the Empress in turn, keeping quiet.

Hearing the cries of pain coming from inside the birthing chamber, Yun Baolin's face was streaked with tears, her nails digging deeply into her palms, her eyes fixed on the Empress's retreating figure...

Perhaps the ginseng slices had taken effect, and after another half hour of simmering, a faint yet clear cry pierced the heavy atmosphere of the room like a thunderclap.

Meng Shu's heart, which had been hanging in suspense, suddenly settled down. Her legs went weak, and if Meng Zhu hadn't been there to support her in time, she would have almost collapsed to the ground.

She watched as the midwife wrapped the tiny infant in a clean cloth. The baby was wrinkled, its eyes closed, and its cries were weak, but to everyone's ears, they were more beautiful than any celestial music.

"Your Majesty, it's a young prince!"

The midwife, beaming with joy, brought the swaddled baby closer, her voice brimming with barely concealed excitement, "We, your servants, congratulate Consort Chun! Congratulations, Consort Chun!"

Jingming and Rongxiu, who were guarding outside the door, relaxed upon hearing this. Rongxiu called out through the curtain, "How is Consort Chun's health at this moment? Please, the two imperial physicians, go in immediately to examine her and do your utmost!"

Jingming, holding a whisk, jogged to the flower hall to deliver the message.

Inside the maternity ward, Consort Chun was utterly exhausted. Upon hearing this, her eyes brightened, but the light quickly dimmed again. "How...how could this be..."

She weakly tugged at the corners of her mouth, tears streaming down her face, whether from pain or some other feeling hidden in her heart, it was hard to tell.

Meng Shu wiped away her tears, her voice hoarse with lingering fear, and said softly, "Wan'er, like Yu Nu'er, is a little prince."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The author, leaning on his elbows in front of the computer with dark circles under his eyes, said, "Yes, after careful consideration and a sudden inspiration, the question of whether Consort Chun gave birth to a prince or a princess was revised three times."

“There’s nothing I can do…” the author murmured to the empty room. “Dramatic conflict requires the most extreme contradictions.”