“Did you make these especially for entertaining that Lady Cheng?”
The Emperor smiled as he looked at the few pastries and sweets Duke Jin’an had pushed before him.
“No, the ones I made especially for Lady Cheng have already been eaten. These are made especially for Your Majesty and the consorts – and I even added and adjusted the ingredients under Lady Cheng’s guidance. Please, Your Majesty, have a taste,” Duke Jin’an replied with a smile.
The Emperor laughed heartily. After seeing the eunuch who sampled them show no ill reaction, he picked up his chopsticks and took a piece to taste.
“Not bad,” he praised.
“I will take my leave,” Duke Jin’an said with a bow and a smile.
“You’ve been away for days and this is your first visit – stay a while longer,” the Emperor said.
“With Prince Qing at home, I cannot rest easy,” Duke Jin’an replied with a smile.
The Emperor nodded.
“And what did Lady Cheng say?” he asked.
“Your Majesty, I did not invite Lady Cheng to treat Prince Qing’s illness,” Duke Jin’an said, kneeling again, a trace of hesitation showing on his face.
The Emperor watched him, a faint smile appearing at his lips.
“And what was it for, then?” he asked.
“Your Majesty, I grew up in the palace, and all my brothers and sisters here are much younger than I am – I’ve hardly known anyone my own age…” Duke Jin’an thought for a moment before continuing. “Back then, when I took Prince Qing all the way to Jiang-zhou to ask her to treat his illness – to be honest with Your Majesty – her attitude was very blunt, even ruthless… and the things she said were truly unpleasant to hear…”
The Emperor smiled slightly. Though he hadn’t known the details at the time, he had experienced for himself that this young lady was proud and headstrong; her words, he imagined, would not have been gentle.
“At the time, I was furious – I nearly wanted to have her executed on the spot, and I even said some harsh things,” Duke Jin’an went on. “Later I thought it over and realized I had taken my anger out on her, so I’ve always felt somewhat guilty about it.”
“Guilty, hmm?” the Emperor asked with a smile.
“…Yes. Your Majesty, I think she’s a very straightforward person – she is exactly what she appears to be. When I threatened her back then, she didn’t take it to heart, and now when I apologize, she still doesn’t take it to heart… It made me think she’s a very… very…” Duke Jin’an trailed off, seemingly unable to find the right word.
The Emperor’s smile deepened.
“Very sincere?” he prompted, finishing the sentence for him.
Duke Jin’an clapped his hands at once.
“Yes, yes – exactly what Your Majesty meant,” he said eagerly.
The Emperor laughed again.
“You rascal, how did it become my meaning now?” he said with a chuckle, then looked at Duke Jin’an with a teasing smile. “So, you think this person is quite good?”
Duke Jin’an nodded.
“Quite good – simple, easy to get along with,” he said. “Like a child untouched by the ways of the world – sometimes rather amusing, sometimes rather infuriating.”
“A young lady,” the Emperor added with a grin.
“A young lady? I hadn’t really noticed – are all young ladies like that? None of the sisters I’ve met are anything like her,” Duke Jin’an said with a laugh. “If anything, I think she’s rather like Liu Ge’er.”
The Emperor chuckled and nodded.
“Yes, quite alike,” he said with a touch of sighing amusement. “One used to be foolish, and the other is foolish now…”
The last words were murmured to himself, barely audible. When he finished speaking, he picked up his chopsticks again and took another piece of pastry.
“Your Majesty should eat less,” Duke Jin’an said. “Too many sweets will upset the stomach.”
The Emperor laughed and set down his chopsticks.
“Then I truly take my leave,” Duke Jin’an said, winking playfully at the Emperor before bowing low in farewell.
It was nearing dusk, and the light inside the hall had grown dim.
The Emperor watched as Duke Jin’an slowly backed out of the chamber; for a moment, he found himself strangely reluctant to let his gaze follow him out.
After a brief daze, he lowered his head and noticed the food box before him, so he reached out and picked up his chopsticks again.
“Your Majesty,” an attendant hurried forward. “His Highness said you mustn’t eat any more.”
“You people really do listen to him,” the Emperor said.
The remark might have sounded intimidating, but the attendant showed no fear.
“We don’t listen to His Highness, Your Majesty – we listen to you,” he said cheerfully, and without hesitation lifted the food box away. “Please don’t blame the Duke for not keeping you company longer. Using Prince Qing as an excuse was just that – an excuse. Now that he’s formally part of the imperial clan, he can’t enter the palace so freely anymore. The censors would impeach him if he did – it’s not like before.”
“He’s only been made a clan prince for a few days, and already there’s talk of impeachment?” the Emperor said with a laugh, unconcerned.
Before his words had faded, a eunuch’s voice came from outside the doors:
“Your Majesty, the Imperial Consort has arrived.”
The Emperor raised his hand, and the eunuch by the door quickly opened it.
The Imperial Consort entered with a bright, smiling face.
“Oh, has Duke Jin’an already left?” she said in mild surprise.
The Emperor nodded.
“So soon? I was hoping to go with him to visit the Empress Dowager and the Empress,” the Consort said sweetly. “It’s not like before anymore – it’s rare for him to come to the palace, why not stay a little longer?”
She hadn’t finished speaking when the Emperor rose to his feet.
“How is it ‘not like before’? Why would it be difficult for Wei-lang to come to the palace now?” he said slowly.
The Consort hadn’t expected the Emperor’s mood to turn so suddenly; for a moment she was stunned.
“No – no, Your Majesty, I only meant – I was only sighing…” she said hurriedly.
“Sighing that he’s now part of the imperial clan, and that if he enters the palace as before he’ll be impeached, is that it?” the Emperor cut her off coldly. “I’d very much like to see who dares to do such a thing!”
With that, he swept his sleeve and strode out.
The Imperial Consort, both embarrassed and furious, stood frozen on the spot – neither able to stay nor to leave. At last, she covered her face and fled.
“I’ve been in the palace for thirty years, and His Majesty has never once raised his voice at me…”
“…In front of so many people, for His Majesty to speak to me like that…”
“…And the most unjust thing is, I didn’t even say anything wrong…”
“…I might as well just die…”
In the Consort’s palace, the maids and eunuchs outside all kept their heads lowered, not daring to glance inside. From within came nothing but the sound of her continual weeping.
“This is indeed Your Ladyship’s fault,” Attendant Scholar Gao said.
“How is it my fault?”
The Imperial Consort sat up abruptly from the couch, her voice rising.
“What did I even say? I only went to see him out of kindness – to thank him! Who knew he’d lay a trap for me first!”
“Your Ladyship,” Attendant Scholar Gao said with a frown, “it’s not that others are too vile – it’s that we are not clever enough.”
“What do you mean by that?” the Consort snapped angrily. “I knew that brat was up to no good! Sweet-talking in the palace, setting snares for Prince Ping in front of the Emperor – and now that he’s out of the palace, he’s not the least bit restrained, he’s even worse than before!”
Attendant Scholar Gao shook his head.
“Your Ladyship, you must look at the larger picture, not get caught up in trivialities,” he said. “Right now, whether it’s Prince Qing, Duke Jin’an, or that Lady Cheng – they’re all minor matters.”
“How could it be? If this is a small matter, then what counts as a big one?” the Consort demanded anxiously. “What if Prince Qing is cured?”
“Even if he is cured, what of it?” Attendant Scholar Gao replied. “First, Prince Ping is older. Second, even if Prince Qing recovers, he will still be known as someone who was once feeble-minded. For these past years, Prince Ping has been raised and trained as the heir apparent. Does Your Ladyship really think anyone would overlook an elder prince who’s already being tutored in state affairs – and instead choose one who’s been witless for three years? Three years, Your Ladyship!”
But what if – just what if – that prince being raised as the heir turned out to be lacking in virtue?
The Imperial Consort’s hands, resting on her knees, clenched tightly.
Attendant Scholar Gao glanced at them, then lowered his gaze.
“Your Ladyship is overthinking,” he said. “I’ve said before – who would ever believe the words of a child who was once feeble-minded?”
That was true. The Consort exhaled in relief.
“For now, what matters most is ensuring that Prince Ping remains steady,” Attendant Scholar Gao continued. “We don’t need him to be exceptionally learned – as long as his conduct is upright, that’s enough. As for the Duke – the better he becomes, the worse it is for him. For a member of the imperial clan to shine too brightly… is not necessarily a good thing.”
Only then did the Consort let out a long sigh. But at the thought of what had just happened, she raised her hand to wipe away her tears.
“Then what am I to do now? His Majesty suspects me, and he turned his face against me in front of everyone – I can’t even show myself anymore,” she wept.
“Your Ladyship need do nothing,” Attendant Scholar Gao said. “Just go on as usual. Remember this: if you don’t care, others won’t care; but the more you care, the more others will.”
Having said this, he quickly rose to his feet.
“Your Ladyship must not act so rashly again – don’t summon me this late at night.”
The Imperial Consort had been about to offer a few words of thanks, but at his remark she only gave a sharp humph and sat back down.
“You’re not a minister yourself – no need to imitate Chen Shao, staying out all night and never returning to the palace,” she said.
At that, Attendant Scholar Gao smiled.
“But Your Ladyship is, after all, not the Empress. I must be cautious,” he replied.
When Prince Ping ascends the throne, the Empress will become the Empress Dowager – rightfully placed, with the authority to admonish the Son of Heaven and discipline the harem. The Imperial Consort, even as the Emperor’s birth mother, would find that when trouble comes, the court officials will not stand on her side.
Thus she could not afford to be without a minister who could help secure her position and prevent her from being easily outmaneuvered.
Even if by then Attendant Scholar Gao were no longer serving in court, the power base he had built and nurtured would still serve that purpose.
The Consort understood this well enough. She gave another faint humph and waved her hand dismissively.
Attendant Scholar Gao bowed and strode quickly out.
The sun set and rose again – a new day had come.
“Shi’san, Shi’san.”
A voice called from inside the house. Standing under the eaves watching the caged birds, Qin Shi’san-lang quickly responded and turned around.
He saw that his parents, brothers, and sisters were already seated.
“Coming, coming,” he said hurriedly, stepping inside and kneeling at his usual place before his table. The dishes before him were more plentiful than usual.
“Thank you, Father, Mother,” he said, bowing respectfully.
The mood in the room grew bright and cheerful.
“Let us congratulate our Qin Hu on turning another year older,” said Qin An with a smile.
The brothers and sisters all raised their wine bowls in turn. Qin Shi’san-lang returned their gesture with a smile, and everyone drank together.
Because he was still young, it wasn’t a formal birthday celebration – a meal a little richer than usual was enough. Before long, everyone had finished eating and dispersed.
Qin Shi’san-lang then received the gifts his brothers and sisters had brought and carried them back to his own room, where a pile of presents was already waiting.
A young servant stood to the side, murmuring the names of who had given what.
“What did Zhou Liu send?” Qin Shi’san-lang asked directly. “Don’t tell me it hasn’t arrived yet?”
“It has, young master – it came early this morning,” the servant said with a grin, pulling out a large gift box from the pile.
Qin Shi’san-lang smiled – for the gift to arrive today, it was clear the timing had been carefully planned.
He reached out and opened the box, finding inside nothing more than a rough-looking short knife.
“Who knows which unlucky fellow he snatched this from this time,” he said with a laugh, turning the blade over in his hands with interest.
“It’s not as fine as the one you gave him back then, young master,” one servant remarked.
“What do you know?” another servant shook his head wisely. “It’s not about quality – what matters is the thought behind it.”
Qin Shi’san-lang burst out laughing and tossed the knife to the servant.
“Hang it in the study,” he said.
“Yes, young master,” the servant replied and went to do so.
Qin Shi’san-lang turned and took a few steps toward the pile of gift boxes.
“And what about Lady Cheng’s?” he asked.
“It’s here too,” one of the servants said, hurrying over to look through the boxes.
Qin Shi’san-lang let out a small sigh of relief.
“Why wasn’t it set aside separately?” he said, watching as the two servants rummaged through the pile.
“Found it!”
One servant called out excitedly, holding up an item with a note attached.
The moment Qin Shi’san-lang saw what the servant was holding, he understood why it hadn’t been found right away.
Among the birthday gifts, there were usually three kinds: writing supplies such as brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones; decorative items like jade pendants, charms, and sachets; and the rare, peculiar things like those Zhou Liu-lang would send.
What the servant held now had been dug out from among the pile of writing supplies – ordinary and proper, easily overlooked.
Qin Shi’san-lang reached out to take it. It was an inkstone – a fine piece, made by one of the capital’s most renowned artisans, worth a considerable sum, no less than the ones sent by others.
Qin Shi’san-lang smiled, his grip on the box tightening slightly.
“This must have been chosen personally by Manager Ban Qin,” he said. “Manager Ban Qin is always very particular when it comes to gifts.”
