Capital City, Yu Wang’s manor.
The maids carried wooden trays with fresh incense cakes and other items. As they neared the study door, a sudden burst of laughter from inside startled them.
That laughter was full and unrestrained, like a river long frozen by winter, suddenly thawing overnight, the torrents breaking through the ice, roaring freely for a thousand miles.
“All gone! All gone! Hahaha…”
The door to the study swung open. Yu Wang stood at the threshold, a letter clutched between his fingers. A curious maid risked a glance and saw his face bright with unprecedented relief, cheeks flushed with excitement, and his handsome, affectionate eyes glistening with moisture.
The letter slipped into the wide sleeve of his robe as he strode down the steps. The newly appointed commander of the manor guards, Hua Ling, came forward to meet him.
Hua Ling, surprised by Yu Wang’s expression, recalled that two young couriers claiming to be from the Su household had earlier delivered a letter from Nanjing. Whatever was written within had stirred His Highness’ heart like a rising tide.
“Where is Your Highness headed? Shall I arrange an escort?” Hua Ling asked, clasping his hands.
Yu Wang replied, “No need. I’m going into the palace to deliver a letter, one horse alone will do.”
“Into the palace?” Hua Ling was taken aback, glancing at the darkening sky. “But it’s already the third quarter of You-hour. The palace gates will lock by Xu-hour, you may not make it in time. Perhaps you should wait until morning. Or allow me to deliver it, it’s only a letter, no need to trouble Your Highness.”
Yu Wang smiled and said, “What of the palace gates? Even if it were a mountain of blades or a sea of fire, if he but pleaded with me once in a soft voice, I’d brave it without hesitation.” He clapped Hua Ling’s shoulder, and with a gust of wind, was gone.
Hua Ling watched his figure recede, knowing full well that the “he” in question was almost certainly Lord Su Yan, the Left Shilang of the Ministry of Rites in Nanjing.
When the former guard commander Han Ben had still been around, Hua Ling had been his deputy and had heard much about his lord’s entanglement with that very Su Yan. Later, he had even been ordered to escort Su Yan and the young shizi through the markets to watch street performances.
Under the lamplight that night, he remembered how the glow had softened Yu Wang’s face and the faint upward curve of his lips. Ahead, the child held a sugar figurine in one hand and tugged at Su Yan’s belt with the other, asking to be carried. Hua Ling had thought, somewhat dazedly, that Yu Wang’s gaze upon that pair, one big, one small, had been gentler than he had ever seen, almost like that of a husband watching his beloved wife and child.
A mix of emotions welled in Hua Ling’s chest. He did not know whether such deep, consuming affection was a blessing or a curse for a man as unrestrained as Yu Wang.
But as a guard, and one without Han Ben’s close camaraderie, he knew it was not his place to give counsel. His duty was simply to obey and silently wish that his master’s heart might find its desire.
Yu Wang galloped hard, reaching the palace gates just before they locked. Learning that Emperor Jinglong was staying that night in a side hall beside the imperial study, he went directly there to request an audience.
Inside, Chen Shiyu was performing acupuncture on the Emperor.
Lan Xi softly reported the situation and suggested, “Shall I find a reason to send Yu Wang away, Your Majesty? Ask him to return tomorrow?”
The Emperor reclined with eyes closed on the couch, his head resting on the armrest, letting the physician work. The air was heavy with the sharp scent of medicinal herbs. Under the lamplight, his lashes cast long shadows over his face, his expression composed, though his lips were pale.
Lan Xi, taking his silence as consent, was just about to withdraw when he heard the Emperor say faintly, “That fourth brother of mine never comes without a reason. Let him wait. Tell him I’m bathing.”
Yu Wang waited outside for two full quarters of an hour before an attendant finally ushered him in.
In the corridor, he met Chen Shiyu carrying his medicine box. The old physician bowed. “Fourth Highness.”
Yu Wang asked, “At this hour, Elder Yu, has my royal brother’s head pain flared up again?”
Chen Shiyu lowered his gaze. “His Majesty is merely overtaxed of late. He asked this old man to prepare calming herbs and draw up a prescription for a medicinal bath.”
Yu Wang knew well how noisy the court had been recently, arguments raging over the Crown Prince and the imperial tomb affair. He himself had grown tired of all the bickering officials and had stopped attending morning sessions altogether. But his imperial brother, as the ruler of the realm, could not simply refuse to govern. No wonder he was worn to the bone and unable to sleep.
He gave a faint, amused smile. “You’ve worked hard, Elder Yu. I was just about to seek an audience with His Majesty. Please, take your time on your way back.”
Chen Shiyu hesitated slightly, then said, “If it’s a troubling matter, and not one of urgency… perhaps it would be better to wait until tomorrow. Speak of it by daylight, it will not be too late.”
Yu Wang found this odd. Not the admonishing tone itself, they were old comrades from the frontier, close enough to speak far more bluntly than this, but rather, it was the trace of concern and protectiveness toward the Emperor that he heard between the man’s words.
Since when had Elder Yu become one of his royal brother’s people? Since he was summoned into the palace and moved into the inner court?
Yu Wang turned this thought over in his mind but betrayed nothing on his face. “It is urgent,” he said evenly, “but not a troublesome matter. In fact, once my royal brother hears of it, his spirits will lift. He may not even need his medicinal bath tonight.”
At that, Chen Shiyu’s expression relaxed a little. He saluted again and took his leave.
…Strange, Yu Wang thought, stepping into the hall.
Inside, the underfloor heating made the air comfortably warm. The Emperor was not in formal attire; he wore only a loose over-robe thrown over his sleeping garments, reclining against the couch table of a Luohan bed, reading, an uncommonly languid sight.
After offering the proper salute, Yu Wang deliberately sat himself down on the other side of the couch, across the low table from the Emperor. As he expected, a faint scent of medicine hung in the air.
Such behavior, sitting as an equal before the Son of Heaven, was flagrantly discourteous, almost insolent. The attendants standing in the corners lowered their heads in alarm. Yet the Emperor said nothing, merely lifted his eyelids and gave his brother a cool, fleeting glance.
“What matter was so urgent that you had to come into the inner palace at this hour?”
Yu Wang drew a sealed envelope from his sleeve and placed it upon the low table.
At the sight of the familiar handwriting, four characters reading ‘To His Majesty, personally’, the muscles at the corner of the Emperor’s eye twitched.
Yu Wang caught that minute change, read his brother’s inner agitation in it, and felt a subtle surge of satisfaction. “A favor entrusted to me, I could hardly neglect it,” he said lightly. “Since he placed his complete trust in me, I came at once to deliver it to my royal brother.”
The Emperor put down his book, held the letter over the lamp flame to soften the wax seal, then opened it carefully and drew out several pages filled with neat characters. He began to read them with great attention.
Yu Wang idly picked up a piece of pastry from the table, chewing it without appetite. A sharp bitterness welled in his chest.
When the Emperor finished reading from start to end, he frowned slightly, pondering. Then, all at once, he brought the papers close to the lamp flame and set them alight.
Yu Wang choked on his pastry, swallowed with difficulty, and reached out to snatch the burning sheets. “A personal letter, why burn it? Even if it’s confidential, can you not find a hidden compartment to keep it safe?”
The Emperor blocked his hand. The fire consumed the papers swiftly, leaving only ash at the edges. He then touched the envelope to the flame as well, his voice deep and steady: “I do not wish to read his words any further.”
“What words?” Yu Wang asked, displeased.
“I appointed him as Left Shilang of Rites in Nanjing so that he might cultivate his conduct and learn the proper manners of serving his sovereign, not to have him idling with the Crown Prince all day, forming cliques and factions!”
The Emperor’s tone grew sharp. The attendants all fell to their knees, hardly daring to breathe.
Yu Wang frowned, his irritation mounting. “What kind of talk is this, Royal Brother? Qinghe and the Crown Prince studied and played together since childhood. Now that they’re both in Nanjing, it’s only natural they should remain close. How can that be called ‘forming factions’?”
“Do you not know what the court whispers behind our backs?” the Emperor retorted. “They call him leader of the Crown Prince’s faction.”
Yu Wang gave a derisive snort. “As if those same courtiers don’t form their own factions.”
“I thought,” the Emperor said coldly, “that since the matter of the imperial mausoleum was of great import, the Crown Prince would submit a memorial to clear his own name, to give an open explanation. But in his private letter, he does nothing but simper and whine, as though I have wronged him cruelly. And Su Yan, what has this to do with him? Yet he rushes to send a letter, pleading the Crown Prince’s case in every line. Truly…” A thin smile curved his lips. “The master frets not, but the servant cannot rest easy.”
The longer Yu Wang listened, the colder his heart grew.
He had once jested in private that his royal brother’s affection for the Crown Prince was like that of a widowed father doting on his spoiled son, a muddled ledger that could never be balanced.
But now…
When a father sees his son’s tantrums as a sign of intimacy, his affection runs deep. Yet the day that same tantrum becomes defiance, the grievance turns to manipulation, and the complaints to resentment, when all indulgence turns to intolerance, it can mean only one thing:
The Emperor no longer looked upon his son with a father’s eyes.
He now regarded him as one man looks upon another who will one day take his place. As one lion looks upon a younger lion, grown strong enough to threaten his rule.
—The gaze of countless lonely emperors through the ages, fixed upon the heir whose wings have grown too full.
—
In the cold confines of Yongning Palace, Consort Wei, still dressed in gaudy finery, though her beauty had waned, sat beneath a leafless tree in the snow, laughing softly up at the pale moon.
She was simply too bored.
Day after day, she ate, drank, slept, singing and dancing to amuse herself, staring at those icy walls while waiting for the pardon of a man who would never forgive her.
The monotony gnawed at her spirit, and slowly eroded even her motherly love for the Second Prince. What had once been a searing ache of longing dulled into numbness. Only in the dark hours, when her restlessness bordered on madness, did her son’s face, blurred by time, surface in her mind again.
What she remembered more clearly, instead, was that white-robed figure, once burning incense and plucking the zither. Even his features had faded, leaving only scattered fragments: long hair falling over his shoulder, the warmth of his palm against her chest, the scent that lingered in his sleeves, the low, hypnotic voice that had ensnared her soul,
And those words that still echoed within her:
A true emperor must guard against everyone. Tell me, do you think His Majesty is a true emperor?
An emperor’s one true love is always power. Between him and the heir closest to that power lies the most delicate relationship in the world.
The title ‘heir apparent’ is double-edged, it means future successor, but also present rival. Just as Nanjing, though it seems a mere secondary capital, houses a full duplicate of the imperial court. It feels reassuring, until the day that second court dares to rival the first. Then the throne in the capital will be the first to strike it down.
An unloved crown prince lives every day in fear of being deposed, tormented without end. A beloved crown prince must forever tread the line between unchecked ambition and cautious restraint, and that, too, is torment.
And how was that torment any different from hers, trapped here in the cold palace?
Wei Lan’s laughter grew louder and louder, until tears streamed down her cheeks.
The Emperor’s favor, false.
The tender bond between father and son, false as well.
If only she had met Mr. He, that man who saw through human hearts, a little earlier, she would have awakened sooner. But Zhu Helin? He was still lost in illusion! Perhaps only when he dashed his head against the wall and paid an even bloodier price would he finally see the truth.
The thought of her hated enemy soon to fall from grace filled Wei Lan with genuine delight, as though she had just stumbled upon great fortune.
“Zhao’er, the Empress Dowager was right to take you away,” she murmured. “If you’d stayed here with Mother, it would only have harmed you. You must be clever, be shrewd, grow up safely and smoothly, then come with the dragon carriage and phoenix sedan to bring Mother out of this cold palace… Your grandfather risked much to send a message, says the Crown Prince’s in trouble in Nanjing… Zhao’er, your chance has come!”
—
In the imperial study, Yu Wang drew a deep breath, forcing down his shock and rising anger as he tried to reason with his brother. “Royal Brother, you said it yourself, that was a private letter from a son to his father, not an official memorial to court. Such a tone from the Crown Prince surprises me not at all. As for Qinghe, you know better than I what kind of man he is. When something concerns both his friend and the foundation of the state, how could he possibly stay out of it?”
But the Emperor remained unmoved. “You may withdraw. And in future, don’t bring me any more of these pleas made on the Crown Prince’s behalf.”
To have his face slapped so openly in front of the attendants angered Yu Wang; his voice rose in frustration. “At least find out the cause and consequence first!”
“There are several memorials from Nanjing already,” the Emperor said coldly. “The cause and consequence are clearly stated. I’ve also sent men to investigate thoroughly. I must wait for their report and deal with those censorial officials who delight in impeachments, I have quite enough on my plate. As my brother, if you can’t ease my burdens, at least don’t add to them. Go!”
Yu Wang still refused to back down. “Even if the Crown Prince did err, it has nothing to do with Qinghe, he…”
“—He is my subject!” the Emperor’s voice cracked like thunder. “Not the Crown Prince’s, and not yours, Zhu Xujing’s!”
Yu Wang slammed the table and stormed off in fury.
“Ah, Wangye, please, calm down, don’t take it out on His Majesty…” Lan Xi nearly collided with him at the door, quickly stepping aside. “Wangye, take care on your way out!”
Entering the hall, Lan Xi saw the attendants still kneeling and snapped, “What are you staring at? Still standing here making His Majesty uneasy? Out, all of you!”
The attendants were aggrieved, the Emperor hadn’t dismissed them, who dared move but none dared speak before the chief eunuch. They bowed low and shuffled backward, retreating from the hall.
Lan Xi closed the doors and approached to clear the ashes from the table.
The Emperor, however, lifted a hand to stop him. Holding his breath, he gathered the ashes from the burned letter into his own palm and instructed, “Bring me an empty box.”
He poured the ashes in, it made only a small handful. The Emperor closed the lid and handed it to Lan Xi. “Put it in the drawer.”
“In the drawer with that memorial?” Lan Xi asked cautiously.
The Emperor nodded wearily.
Lan Xi carried the box to the imperial desk, opened a drawer, and placed it beside the memorial Su Yan had sent from Shaanxi last year. Then he locked it again.
“Your Majesty…” Lan Xi returned to the couch, uncertain what to say. He could only sigh. “It’s getting late, time to rest.”
The Emperor turned his gaze to the dark night beyond the window. “Time is running out. You said earlier, several censors plan to join the impeachment tomorrow?”
Lan Xi replied, “Yes, Your Majesty. The news came through Cui Canyi of the Office of Transmission, Cui Jinping, the one who took the same examination as Minister Su.”
The Emperor nodded. “I remember him. The one who wrote ‘The dragon leaps; golden scales will rise in time’ at the banquet of honors. A brilliant young man, sharp and ambitious, how could he remain unmoved by the turmoil at court? He’s made his choice of faction, seeking his chance to climb upward.”
Lan Xi asked, “Then… will Your Majesty grant him that chance?”
“That depends on his fortune,” the Emperor said. “Most in court see only that Su Yan is barely past twenty, that in two short years he’s risen from a fifth-rank Xima to a full third-rank Shilang in Nanjing. Even though he was demoted there, they still burn with jealousy, blind to his accomplishments, harping only on his youth and luck. But how many of them see the truth? That in all the realm, there is only one Su Qinghe.”
—
A rumor, no one knew from where it began, slipped quietly out of the palace and spread among officials and generals alike: that the Emperor had flown into a rage at Yu Wang for pleading on the Crown Prince’s behalf, and had voiced his displeasure toward the Crown Prince’s faction.
Ministers weighed the rumor’s credibility, each according to his own interest, some watching, some wavering, some, like turtles swallowing lead, firming their resolve completely.
And from that day, the impeachment memorials that had long sat “pending review” no longer stayed buried in the archives. Each came back with two characters penned in vermilion: “Reconsider.”
The change was… thought-provoking.
“He can’t withstand the pressure any longer!” cried Gelao Wang Qianhe, who had just been appointed tutor to the Second Prince under the Empress Dowager’s decree.
But his colleague, Gelao Jiao Yang, also a royal tutor, shook his head. “You’ve known His Majesty for fifteen years and still don’t understand? No outside pressure could ever bend him. What changes him… must come from within.”
“What illness?” Wang Qianhe asked. “The head ailment that’s plagued him for years?”
Jiao Yang chuckled. “No, the common sickness of all emperors.”
Wang Qianhe nodded slowly. “Ah… thanks to your reminder, I see it now. The tide is shifting in our favor. Then we’d best add fuel to the fire, and let it burn all the brighter.”
Jiao Yang agreed. “And one more thing, we absolutely cannot let the Crown Prince return to the capital!
“As long as he’s not around, affection will naturally fade. Countless cases throughout history prove it: once distance sets in, love withers. Let him and Su Twelve stay stranded in Nanjing. By the time the position of heir apparent changes hands, who will still care about the truth of the White Deer case?”
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