“As if afraid there’s a soul out there who doesn’t know what she’s done!”
Eunuch Jing grumbled as he stepped into the main hall.
The gust of wind from his hurried pace stirred the steam rising from the tea bowl on the table, scattering it into the air.
“Ah, my tea!” Master Gu exclaimed in haste, reaching out to shield the bowl with his hands.
A cup of tea in the afternoon was his daily ritual – finest tea cakes, roasted and brewed, seasoned with salt, its essence distilled through three boils before being poured steaming into the bowl.
What Master Gu loved most was the rich, warm aroma of the tea.
“At this rate, you won’t even have a moment for tea in the future,” Eunuch Jing snapped irritably, flicking his sleeve as he took a seat. “We’re already hemmed in from all sides, and now she’s stirred up fresh trouble.”
Master Gu drained his tea in one gulp, but remained silent.
“We should have seen this coming,” Eunuch Jing continued. “She spared no expense for that Cheng Si-lang back in the day, even in the brothels. Now that Chen Dan-niang is being forced to marry the Crown Prince, of course she’s resentful. It’s hardly surprising she’d go and beat someone up.”
As he spoke, he also picked up a bowl of tea and drank it all in one go.
“His Highness even defended her, saying something like – if he’s unhappy, he can kill someone and dump the body at someone’s door; so if she’s unhappy, it’s only natural she can beat people too. No big deal.”
“No big deal indeed, but what’s the use? Did venting her anger help? Does beating someone up stop the Crown Princess from marrying? All it does is give others leverage, making them more eager to spread word of her true intentions.”
Hearing this, Master Gu set down his tea bowl.
“What intentions?” he asked.
Eunuch Jing glared.
“What intentions?” he frowned. “What else could they be? Treacherous intentions, of course.”
“Treacherous intentions…” Master Gu said slowly, holding his tea bowl thoughtfully, as if lost in contemplation.
…
“Father, she cannot stay in the capital.”
Chen Shi’ba-niang said, her words slurred from the injuries to her face and mouth.
Chen Shao glanced at her.
The beating had been truly vicious.
But not vicious enough.
If she had truly intended to harm, a single slap from her could have laid Chen Shi’ba-niang out, never to rise again.
Those were hands that could snap a man’s neck.
“Father!”
Chen Shi’ba-niang’s voice suddenly sharpened, her gaze flashing with irritation at Chen Shao.
Chen Shao pulled his thoughts back and nodded.
“Go back and rest. Recover your strength. As for the grand wedding preparations, we don’t need to trouble ourselves too much – the palace has it all arranged,” he said, his voice tinged with weariness.
Chen Shi’ba-niang looked at him.
“You think I want her gone simply because she beat me?” she said.
Chen Shao remained silent.
“She struck me for Dan-niang’s sake,” Chen Shi’ba-niang continued. “How deeply she cares for Dan-niang, I understand. What happened to Dan-niang was indeed my doing, and it caused her great harm. Mother beat me and refuses to see me. Grandfather has abandoned our entire family. Even though you supported my actions, I know deep down you resent me for it.”
“I don’t resent you,” Chen Shao said.
If there was any resentment to be had, he could only resent himself.
“The reason I want her driven from the capital is because of what she said,” Chen Shi’ba-niang went on.
“Angry words. Just let them pass,” Chen Shao replied.
“Father, when I said that Duke Jin’an could never be adopted, those were angry words on my part. But her answer wasn’t spoken in anger,” Chen Shi’ba-niang insisted.
Chen Shao frowned.
“Father, she replied: ‘What others lack will forever stay out of their reach.’ Her meaning was – even if the Crown Prince holds the title now, he will never ascend the throne in the future.”
“Shi’ba-niang, that is your interpretation,” Chen Shao said, waving a hand dismissively. “These are words spoken in anger. Such reckless talk must not be repeated from now on.”
Chen Shi’ba-niang laughed, though the motion tugged at her wounds and sent a sharp pain through her. She raised a hand to cover her face.
“Yes, that is my meaning. But, Father, when I asked her what she meant, she said it was exactly what I thought it was,” she replied, lifting her head again to look at Chen Shao. “Father, what kind of person she is – you understand very well too, don’t you?”
Chen Shao lowered his gaze, tightening his grip on the tea bowl in front of him.
“Has she ever spoken in anger before?” Chen Shi’ba-niang asked.
No.
She was a lady of few words, who seldom spoke lightly. But once she did, it was always…
“I am not acting for myself. Whether she stays or goes has little to do with me personally. If she were still the person she used to be, even if she spoke such words, it wouldn’t matter. But now – she is the Princess Consort. Behind her stands a duke, a member of the imperial clan.”
“Father, over all these years, how many astonishing things has she done? Father, this time – do you still wish to wait and see?”
Chen Shao fell silent, the tea bowl held tightly in his hand.
Try?
To speak of trying in front of that girl?
He couldn’t help but glance back. A folding screen stood quietly nearby.
Old Master Chen had left, taking nothing with him. Chen Shao had kept the old man’s room exactly as it was, except for this single screen, which he had moved into his own study.
The dots and circles on the screen stood out vividly.
There were already so many who had wanted to “try” their hand against that girl.
They tried to see if she was afraid, tried to see if she would dare fight back, tried to see if she would surrender and retreat…
Whether it was that small-time provincial landowner, or the steady, composed capital official; whether it was that traveling monk – a complete stranger – who swindled wealth and gathered followers, or the low-level clerks in the courier station who intended to set a fire – none of them, at heart, had initially meant to fight her to the death. They had merely wanted to try.
But they made the girl raise her hand. And with that one move, their spirits scattered like dust.
Now, to let her “try” again…
Chen Shao set down the tea bowl.
“Attendant,” he said slowly.
…
“Drive him out! Issue the decree at once.”
The Empress Dowager held the imperial seal in her hand, urging the eunuch to stamp it onto the document.
“How dare he come here to interfere in the Crown Prince’s wedding? What does he intend to do? Line up a row of corpses as gifts at the ceremony?”
The eunuch’s eyes darted nervously toward Gao Lingjun, trembling and afraid to take the seal.
“Your Majesty,” Gao Lingjun spoke up, “you are overthinking it.”
With the Crown Prince’s marriage settled – the Crown Princess being a daughter of the Chen Shao family – Chen Shao was now firmly bound to the imperial family, no longer able to posture as an incorruptible minister who could point fingers and dictate at will. The Empress Dowager’s mood had improved greatly, and so had her health. Her voice was strong and full of vigor.
“How am I overthinking it? I tell you, I know exactly what they’re scheming in their hearts!” she said, slapping the desk.
“Since Your Majesty is well aware, then we absolutely must not let him leave,” Gao Lingjun replied. “I have said before: his reputation in the capital is already ruined, held firmly in Your Majesty’s grasp. He cannot stir up trouble. But if we let him go… well, it’s hard to say.”
“I cannot bear to see him for another day,” the Empress Dowager said angrily.
“There’s no hurry, no hurry,” Gao Lingjun said with a smile. “As I said, the Crown Prince’s matter is the priority. First, let the Crown Prince marry, and then it will be his turn.”
When speaking of the Crown Prince, Gao Lingjun’s expression grew somewhat more solemn.
“How is that matter?” he asked in a lowered voice.
The Empress Dowager gestured to a eunuch, who quickly turned and went out. Shortly after, he returned leading a young woman and a imperial doctor.
“How was last night?” the Empress Dowager asked.
The young woman kept her head lowered.
“N-no, not successful,” she whispered.
“How can it not be successful? It’s not that the Crown Prince cannot…” The Empress Dowager frowned, trailing off as she struggled for words, then fell silent again.
“The Crown Prince… the Crown Prince can… can… but… entering… not… not possible…” The young woman’s head nearly sank into her collar, her voice growing so soft it was almost inaudible.
Though her words were jumbled and stammered, everyone in the room understood perfectly.
The Empress Dowager sighed with a sense of helplessness.
“Still not possible. Perhaps he’s still too young,” she said.
“After the New Year, the Crown Prince will be thirteen – not young at all. Outside the palace, boys his age are already fathers to three children,” Gao Lingjun replied, frowning. He turned to the imperial doctor. “Is there truly a problem with His Highness’s health?”
“By all reasoning, there should be no issue,” the physician said. “Perhaps… due to His Highness’s incomplete mental faculties, the stimuli he receives are not quite so… sensitive or intense…”
“Will it improve as he grows older?” Gao Lingjun asked.
The doctor’s eyes flickered slightly.
“It likely will,” he said, quickly adding, “We will also strengthen the tonic medicines to help regulate His Highness’s constitution.”
Gao Lingjun looked at the physician.
“Since that’s the case, you must put all your effort into this. Regulate His Highness’s health – as quickly as possible,” he said slowly. “Don’t talk about ‘with more nourishment it will improve.’ What counts as ‘more’? Ten days or half a month? A year or three years? There are matters in this world that do not grant you endless time to wait. It is always more urgent to focus on the present.”
The doctor gave a slight shudder.
No time to wait. As quickly as possible. Focus on the present. What is urgent in the present? The birth of a royal heir – ensuring the continuation of the imperial bloodline. As for the Crown Prince’s future…
“Yes,” the doctor replied, bowing his head.
