“Sir, this way please.”
Guo Yuan, who had been looking around curiously, hurriedly withdrew his gaze.
The attendant slid open the door, and Guo Yuan lowered his head and stepped inside.
“Sit down,” said a young man’s voice.
Guo Yuan didn’t dare lift his head; he knelt down, and in his field of vision were only the intricate patterns on the floor.
“You’re Guo Fuzhi from the Bureau of Astronomy?”
Guo Yuan bowed and answered, “Yes.”
“You predicted there would be a lunar eclipse?”
Guo Yuan hesitated for a moment, recalling how he’d been scolded harshly by the Bureau of Astronomy officials that very morning – and how they had pointed out his mistakes.
“You’ve only studied for a few days! Do you already know how to predict the paths of the ecliptic and the white road?”
“I know a little…”
“A little! The ignorant truly know no fear!”
Maybe he really had made a mistake.
“It’s all right. Go on, speak. You’re just saying it, and I’m just listening.”
Guo Yuan gritted his teeth.
“Yes. I calculated that there will be a lunar eclipse on the fifteenth,” he said. “But it’s very likely to be wrong… I am not sure.”
“Not sure, eh?” the young man said. “Well, that’s easy enough – I’ll help you go ask about it, and when I find out, I’ll tell you.”
Ask?
Ask whom?
Guo Yuan instinctively lifted his head and saw a young man in splendid brocade robes step past him, the sweep of his hem brushing across Guo Yuan’s vision.
Guo Yuan turned his head in a daze toward the banquet table before him.
Such rich, magnificent dishes.
He had been studying at the Astronomical Bureau in the capital for three years, yet this was the first time he had ever seen such fine food.
He had never once set foot in such an elegant establishment.
…He wondered if that noble gentleman had paid the bill just now.
While Guo Yuan’s thoughts were still tangled before the feast, Duke Jin’an had already boarded his carriage.
“Your Highness is going to ask Lady Cheng?” the attendant asked in a low voice.
Duke Jin’an glanced at him.
“Of course I’m going to ask,” he said with a smile. “But I won’t be the one doing the asking.”
The attendant suddenly understood and nodded.
Letting someone else be clever – that’s the cleverest thing of all.
Especially when that “someone else” is the Emperor.
Lately, there had been one happy event after another, and even the morning court sessions had been unusually free of quarrels. The Emperor sat in the Hall of Diligent Governance, enjoying a rare moment of peace.
“Why not visit Consort An? It’s said she hasn’t had much appetite recently,” the attendant suggested beside him.
The Emperor nodded.
“How could she suddenly lose her appetite?” he said. “Summon the imperial doctors to have another look.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the attendant replied.
“And call for the musicians and dancers as well,” the Emperor added, as another thought came to him. “We’ll go to Consort An’s quarters together – I’ll watch with her.”
The attendant smiled and bowed, turning to leave – but unexpectedly bumped into someone at the doorway. Startled, he let out an “Ah!” and was just about to scold when, seeing who it was, he quickly bent low in salute.
“Your Highness,” he said.
The Emperor looked up to see Duke Jin’an wave the attendant aside and stride quickly into the hall.
It had been several days since their last meeting, and a faint smile appeared on the Emperor’s lips.
“Why enter the palace without a summons? Aren’t you afraid of being impeached for it?” he asked, putting on a mock-stern face.
But unlike his usual easy manner, Duke Jin’an looked solemn and moved forward in haste.
“Your Majesty,” he said, bowing, while his eyes darted about the room.
“What are you sneaking around for?” the Emperor said with a laugh.
“Your Majesty,” Duke Jin’an stepped closer, intending to whisper into the Emperor’s ear.
The Emperor chuckled and patted his arm.
“A gentleman has nothing that cannot be spoken aloud. What sort of behavior is this? Sit down,” he said.
Duke Jin’an sat down beside him.
“Your Majesty, I’ve heard some rumors,” he said in a low, serious voice, his expression still grave.
Seeing him so earnest, the Emperor grew curious.
“What is it?” he asked.
Duke Jin’an leaned in closer.
“I have heard… that there will soon be a lunar eclipse,” he murmured, raising a hand to shield his words.
The Emperor stared at him in surprise.
“A lunar eclipse?” he repeated with a frown.
Duke Jin’an quickly gestured for him to hush.
“Your Majesty, not so loud,” he whispered anxiously.
The Emperor couldn’t decide whether to be amused or exasperated.
“In my own hall, am I supposed to be afraid of being overheard?” he said, sweeping his gaze over the attendants. “Wang Laigui, is your tongue not trustworthy?”
The eunuch named Wang Laigui didn’t speak at first; he blinked at the Emperor for a moment before stepping forward a few paces.
“Your Majesty, were you speaking to me?” he asked, looking completely innocent. “When there are others present, I never hear a thing.”
The Emperor burst out laughing.
“Your Majesty, this is no time for laughter,” Duke Jin’an said solemnly.
“Where did you hear that?” the Emperor asked, half smiling.
Why was it that there were things others knew before the Emperor himself did?
Though, in truth, it wasn’t so strange – being Emperor was like that. What you got to hear and know often depended entirely on what your ministers wanted you to hear and know.
The attendants lowered their eyes in silence.
“I have lately been studying astronomy,” Duke Jin’an said with a perfectly straight face.
The Emperor couldn’t help but chuckle.
“Oh? You’ve taken an interest in astronomy again, have you?” he said.
From childhood, Duke Jin’an had never been diligent in his studies – three days fascinated by geography, two days obsessed with music or chess – never any consistency. No wonder his studies had always been poor.
It was, of course, his own indulgence and affection that had spoiled him.
“And why the sudden interest in astronomy this time?” the Emperor asked with a smile.
“It’s fun,” Duke Jin’an replied casually.
Fun? More like it was that girl who fascinated him.
Whatever the topic, it always came back to her – anything that involved her, he would suddenly find interesting.
Otherwise, why would he have gone so far as to make pastries and send them over last time?
Give it a little longer and he’d probably start brewing wine at home too.
What sort of behavior was that for a grown man!
“Fun, fun, that’s all you ever think about,” the Emperor scolded with a frown. “I let you live outside the palace, and now no one keeps you in check. What about your studies? Have you abandoned them altogether?”
Duke Jin’an rubbed his nose sheepishly.
“Your Majesty,” he said quickly, “this isn’t the time to talk about that. About the lunar eclipse – I sent someone to the Bureau of Astronomy to ask about the calendar, and they said there was an argument going on. Some claimed the calculation was correct, others said it was wrong, and they couldn’t stop quarreling.”
So that’s what it is. The Emperor let out a breath and shook his head.
“Why bother listening to them? Isn’t that what the Bureau of Astronomy is always like? Quarreling day in and day out – if it’s not about the calendar, it’s about celestial omens. And in the end?” He sighed. “I don’t expect them to calculate anything right. As long as they don’t cause trouble and then put on that ‘we’re innocent, it’s all His Majesty’s fault’ face, that’s good enough.”
“But this time is different,” said Duke Jin’an, a grin spreading across his face. “They may be foolish – but there’s at least one person among them who isn’t.”
The Emperor gave him a look and understood immediately.
“Wei-lang,” he said suddenly, “are you thinking of getting married?”
Duke Jin’an froze for a moment – then quickly shook his head.
The Emperor narrowed his eyes.
“Wei-lang, you’re not so young anymore,” he said.
“Mm, but Prince Qing is still young,” Duke Jin’an replied.
The Emperor was taken aback for a moment.
“He’s too young,” Duke Jin’an continued. “Right now, he still won’t leave my side. I don’t want him to frighten others – or be frightened by them.”
The Emperor let out a soft sigh.
“No matter how old he grows… he’ll always be this way,” he said quietly.
Duke Jin’an smiled.
“Maybe it’ll be different someday,” he said.
So, he still hadn’t given up hope.
The Emperor sighed again.
“I understand. Go and pay your respects to the Empress Dowager,” he said.
Duke Jin’an answered with a respectful “Yes,” bowed, and withdrew.
“Your Majesty, shall we still go to Consort An’s quarters?” the attendant asked quietly.
The Emperor rested his hand on the desk, lost in thought for a moment.
“I won’t go,” he said at last. “Reward Consort An with the musicians and dancers instead.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” the attendant replied.
A lunar eclipse…
First a solar eclipse earlier this year, and now a lunar one – truly…
The Emperor’s expression slowly darkened.
Surely his luck couldn’t be that bad.
“Attend me,” he said finally.
A eunuch hurried forward.
“Summon Lady Cheng,” the Emperor ordered.
But when the eunuch cheerfully arrived at the Imperial Archives to deliver the message, he was met with Chen Shao’s merciless rebuke.
“Has someone accused her again, or has she been granted official rank?”
Chen Shao’s stern voice rang out.
The eunuch was taken aback and shook his head blankly.
“If neither, then why summon a woman out of turn?” Chen Shao said sharply.
“His Majesty wishes to ask–” the eunuch began.
“Ask about state affairs? There are ministers for that. Ask about private matters? There’s the Imperial City Guard for that,” Chen Shao interrupted again. “What reason does His Majesty have to summon her to audience?”
The eunuch, cowed by the reprimand, shrank back and slunk away.
“The Emperor acts rashly – don’t you attendants know to offer remonstrance?” Chen Shao called after him.
The eunuch didn’t dare look back and hurried off at a trot.
Watching the eunuch scurry away, Chen Shao grew even more stifled with anger.
Even for a court official, being favored by the Emperor wasn’t necessarily a good thing -let alone for a woman! It might look glorious on the surface, but in truth, it was rarely a blessing.
The Emperor, having his order blocked, could do little; court protocol was court protocol, and he couldn’t very well argue.
He certainly didn’t want to provoke Chen Shao into resigning again out of anger.
Then again, even the honest and upright Chen Shao had now learned to threaten resignation at the slightest displeasure…
People really do change.
The Emperor sighed inwardly.
“She hasn’t been accused, and she holds no official rank – so I can’t summon her, is that it?” he grumbled. “Then I’ll just grant her one. Let’s see what they’ll say then.”
But that could wait – there were more pressing matters to handle first.
“Summon Duke Jin’an,” the Emperor said. “Have him go ask instead. I imagine right about now he’s either helpless under the Empress Dowager’s tears – or he’s managed to charm more tears out of her again.”
Though, more likely the latter.
…
“Ask me?”
In the Cheng residence, Cheng Jiao-niang looked up and asked.
Duke Jin’an nodded.
“His Majesty wants to know whether there truly will be a lunar eclipse on the fifteenth,” he said.
No sooner had he spoken than Cheng Jiao-niang nodded.
“There will,” she replied.
Duke Jin’an was taken aback and couldn’t help but study her face.
“You… can see it?” he asked.
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled and wiggled her fingers lightly.
“How could one see such a thing? It has to be calculated,” she said.
“By counting on your fingers?” Duke Jin’an asked, even more curious.
“No,” Cheng Jiao-niang shook her head. “It’s calculated by the calendar system.”
Duke Jin’an let out an “oh” and nodded in understanding.
“Then… may I report that to His Majesty?” he asked after a brief hesitation.
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled.
“Why not? It’s not some secret that can’t be spoken of – soon everyone will see it with their own eyes,” she said.
“I just worry it might cause you trouble,” Duke Jin’an said.
Cheng Jiao-niang smiled again, lowering her hand and smoothing her sleeve before folding it neatly before her.
“Cheng does not consider observing the heavens a shame, nor knowing the ways of heaven a fear,” she said softly.
Never has been – never feared misfortune, never avoided it, never once.
