At the time when the sun was slanting westward, clear light filtered through the patterned wooden windows inlaid with translucent panes, spilling onto a bed covered in red silk.
So-called “translucent panes”, in wealthy households, were often made from thinly polished shell, or from sheep horn boiled into liquid and then pressed into sheets after cooling, set into the window lattice. Both types allowed far more light than paper windows, but indoors, the daylight still came through softly, giving everything the tinted glow of dusk.
The main house of the Su residence used natural mica sheets for its windows, making the interior brighter. Yet from outside, because the mica’s texture was misty and opaque, one could only make out vague silhouettes.
Shen Tongzhi, now he should be called Commander Shen, had spent part of the renovation funds on perfecting this detail.
Originally, Su Yan rather liked these staggered translucent panes, finding them to have a certain poetic charm, like “a mica screen with deep candle shadows.” Now, however, he wished he could hang thick blackout curtains to cover them completely.
As if that could conceal everything that had happened in this room from morning till evening, everything too unbearable to recall.
Su Yan lay sprawled half-dead on the red silk bedding, his long hair loose. Even when he heard Jinghong Zhui deliberately making noise as he entered, he kept his eyes closed and didn’t move.
Jinghong Zhui set down the basin and cloth, sat at the edge of the bed, and looked at the mottled marks covering Su Yan’s body, from his neck down to his toes. A trace of guilt immediately appeared in his eyes.
He knew that although Su Yan looked as if he had suffered greatly, he wasn’t actually injured. It was just his naturally delicate skin, any slight force would turn it from smooth white to multicolored bruising. Under normal circumstances, he would recover after two or three days of rest.
But because the sight was so striking, Jinghong Zhui couldn’t help feeling both guilty and resentful. Even though Shen Qi had pulled back from the brink of losing control, he was still, in his view, a reckless mad dog.
The basin held hot water mixed with mugwort. Jinghong Zhui dampened the cloth and gently wiped Su Yan’s body.
Su Yan let him do as he pleased, then spoke irritably, his voice a little hoarse: “Are you deaf? I called you so many times and you didn’t hear once? Don’t tell me you weren’t home today!”
Jinghong Zhui had heard, he had been standing right outside the door.
More than once he had wanted to grit his teeth and walk away, yet again and again he found himself rooted in place, wanting to know whether Su Yan truly had any entanglement with that Oirat man; wanting to know how someone as concerned with dignity as Su Yan could be made to abandon all restraint and say such blush-inducing, pulse-quickening words.
So, for the first time ever, he ignored Su Yan’s calls. Because those calls sounded less like pleas for help and more like invitations, even the cries and pleas seemed like resistance laced with desire, only stirring stronger impulses in the listener. He feared that if he burst in at that moment… what followed would leave Su Yan so ashamed upon regaining his senses that he would have nowhere to hide.
Jinghong Zhui pressed his lips together and said nothing, continuing to wipe him down.
That only made Su Yan angrier. He tried to shake off the cloth and sit up, but halfway through he sucked in a breath and collapsed back onto the bed, snapping, “You and Shen Qi used to fight each other every day like enemies, since when did you become birds of a feather, ignoring even what I say?”
“…Since I learned that you still want to rekindle old feelings with that Aletan,” Jinghong Zhui said calmly, his expression dark. “You attract people, whether intentionally or not, I have no right to object. But Aletan is not acceptable.”
“He would have been one thing if he were still merely a prince of a foreign tribe as he was back then. But in recent years he has grown increasingly ambitious, annexing the Tatars and unifying the Northern Steppe. He is clearly not someone easy to deal with. I do not believe he has no designs on Great Ming. If the two countries were ever to go to war, and Your Excellency were found to have ties to him, how would you maintain your footing at court? How would you conduct yourself?
“And if we think even more deeply about it, if he knows full well the immense pressure this matter places upon Your Lord and yet still insists on maintaining contact with you, that only proves his intentions are impure. He is likely seeking to use you to obtain intelligence or influence Great Ming’s political situation, paving the way for his southward expansion.”
Su Yan was slightly startled and countered, “Is that your own conclusion, or Shen Qi’s?”
Jinghong Zhui replied, “On this point, Shen Qi and I share the same view. Aletan is by no means a good man. Becoming too deeply entangled with him may one day become a great calamity in My Lord’s official career.”
Su Yan fell silent for a moment, then suddenly let out a derisive laugh. “So after one of you tortured me under criminal interrogation and the other sat in the hall listening in, after tormenting me half to death, you still insist on believing I have a romantic relationship with Aletan?”
Jinghong Zhui said, “If My Lord truly has no feelings for him at all, then why have you kept the sheepskin leg wraps and the leather wineskin that once held mare’s milk wine that he gave you all those years ago? Don’t think I don’t know, you stored both items in that wooden chest beneath your bed.”
In an instant, Su Yan looked as though he had been struck in the knee by a stray arrow. He closed his eyes again, collapsed face-down onto the bedding, and resumed playing dead.
After wiping him dry from head to toe, Jinghong Zhui dressed him in fresh clothes.
At that moment, Shen Qi entered the room. He had already changed into a fresh set of clothing. Seeing Jinghong Zhui crouched on the footboard by the bed putting socks on Su Yan, he could not help frowning.
Deep down, he did not want anyone other than himself touching Su Yan. Yet he did not explode in anger. First, because Jinghong Zhui’s martial arts were exceptionally high while his demands were few; as a bodyguard, he truly provided tremendous protection for Su Yan’s safety. Second, because compared to the other powerful figures eyeing Su Yan covetously, Jinghong Zhui’s background and temperament left him with relatively little possessiveness. If he absolutely had to find an ally, even a paper ally to be discarded afterward, there was no one more suitable.
After repeatedly convincing himself to suppress the murderous intent in his heart, Shen Qi walked expressionlessly to the bedside and bent down to scoop Su Yan up in his arms.
That immediately put an end to Su Yan’s act. Opening his eyes, he cried out in alarm: “–What are you trying to do now?!”
Shen Qi replied, “The meal is ready. It could have been brought in here, but you dislike food odors in your bedroom, so I’m carrying you to the reception hall.”
Su Yan struggled and threw himself back onto the bed. “I’m not going! I don’t want to eat! Just let me keep lying here!”
Shen Qi felt somewhat helpless. He knew the several hours of “interrogation” in bed earlier had thoroughly worn the other man out. Su Yan would remain angry for quite some time, and it would not be easy to coax him back into a good mood.
Jinghong Zhui crouched down on the footboard again and patiently asked, “If My Lord doesn’t want to eat dinner, what would you like to eat instead? I’ll go buy it.”
Casting a sidelong glance at the two accomplices standing by his bed, Su Yan answered mischievously, “I want roast lamb dipped in chive flower sauce, accompanied by authentic Northern Steppe pot tea and mare’s milk wine.”
As expected, both men’s faces turned green at the same time.
Su Yan grumbled, “What’s wrong? A person who’s thousands of miles away and whom I haven’t seen once in over two years, you don’t trust him. And now you don’t even trust the food?”
“How about this? Give Ah Zhui an official title too.” He curled his lips at Jinghong Zhui. “Then he’d satisfy the conditions written in the diplomatic document as well. When the time comes, you can attend the ceremony and use your peerless swordsmanship to kill Aletan outright. Then everything will be settled once and for all. The smoke of war along Great Ming’s northern frontier will disappear forever, and I won’t have to keep getting soaked in one giant vat of jealousy after another. What do you think?”
Jinghong Zhui was so embarrassed by the teasing that the tips of his ears reddened. He lowered his head and said nothing.
Shen Qi gazed steadily at Su Yan. “You don’t want him to die. Besides, if Aletan were to die so pathetically at the hands of a ceremonial envoy, the Northern Steppe would mobilize its entire nation to retaliate against Great Ming. But we also do not want anything to happen to you, because the path you have chosen is already full of compromises and difficult decisions. This ill-fated attachment cannot be allowed to override your convictions.”
Su Yan said nothing.
After a long while, he sighed softly. “Qilang, Ah Zhui, both of you are right to remind me. I understand now.”
Rolling over, he turned wearily toward the wall and spoke as though giving a casual instruction: “Ah Zhui, go open the chest and throw those two things away.”
Both Jinghong Zhui and Shen Qi knew which chest he meant, the large locked wooden trunk hidden beneath the bed.
When Su Yan had been away from home, Shen Qi had helped him move. He had carried the trunk from the old residence and placed it beneath the bed again. Though somewhat curious, he had never opened it to see what was inside. Later, after Jinghong Zhui dispersed his martial arts and departed, leaving behind the sword Oath, Shen Qi had roughly learned that the sword had also been stored inside the chest.
Back in Shaanxi, Jinghong Zhui had seen that Su Yan had always kept the two small gifts Aletan had given him. Although Su Yan had now ordered him to destroy them, Jinghong Zhui felt the root of the matter lay in Su Yan’s heart, not in those two lifeless objects. As long as Su Yan clearly understood the stakes involved, what harm was there in keeping them?
So Jinghong Zhui said, “The objects themselves are not the key issue. As long as My Lord understands the situation in your own heart, that is enough. So… do you still want roast lamb and pot tea?”
After some hesitation, Su Yan smiled bitterly. “Forget it. Just make me a pot of clay-casserole rice porridge.”
—
Su Xiaojing was not at home.
He had left before dawn, while Lord Su was still staying overnight at the palace and had yet to return. Tucked inside his robe was a swaddling cloth that felt like a branding iron against his chest.
…Whether what that old woman said was true or false, since she had mentioned this swaddling cloth with writing on the inside, it would be worth bringing it to her. Perhaps she could identify what was actually written on it.
Using this thought to comfort himself, he kept his head lowered and jogged through the streets like a thief, making his way to the alley where he had encountered the old woman the day before.
In the faint light of dawn, Su Xiaojing saw the old woman curled up against the base of a wall, still wearing the same clothes. It looked as though she had waited there all night, hoping only that he would return.
Su Xiaojing could not help feeling moved.
Taking off his outer robe, he stepped forward and draped it over her shoulders.
The old woman woke with a start. Upon seeing him, her face lit up with delight. “Little Master…”
“Don’t call me that!” Su Xiaojing said sternly.
He pulled the piece of swaddling cloth from his robe.
“I came to find you because I want you to help me look at this. What exactly is written on it?”
The old woman took the swaddling cloth with trembling hands, examined it carefully, and said excitedly, “This is it! Look at the pattern on the fabric here, this is the lower jaw of a dragon… and this circle here is the edge of the seal. The characters are indeed too small; this old one will go find a magnifying glass to take a look.”
A magnifying glass was not hard to find. Western missionaries had brought them into Great Ming, and they could occasionally be found for sale in the marketplace.
No one knew how many connections the old woman had behind her; she quickly obtained a magnifying glass from a missionary. Su Xiaojing curiously fiddled with it a few times, then placed it over the swaddling cloth. The small, blurry characters instantly became large and clear, though a few had smudged badly and could only be guessed from their outlines.
“—As expected, it is Wangfei’s own handwriting from those years!” the old woman said as she leaned in to look. “Young master, your identity is beyond doubt, you should acknowledge your ancestry and return to your roots.”
Amid his confusion, a trace of secret joy arose in Su Xiaojing, but from that joy emerged a sense of desolation. “Acknowledge my ancestry and return to my roots? My mother died of illness, my Father… even if Xin Wang really was my Father, he was already ordered to death by the late emperor long ago. Where do I still have a home, ancestors to return to?”
The old woman said through tears, “Young master still has me. Back then in the prince’s residence, everyone called me Fan Momo… there are also many former servants of Xin Wang’s residence. If they hear that the young master is alive, they will also come.”
Su Xiaojing shook his head dejectedly. “Forget it. I have no parents, no relatives, no one at all. You are already in your twilight years, better for each of us to live our own lives.”
Fan Momo said, “Who says you have no relatives? Young master still has a paternal uncle!”
Su Xiaojing was startled, then his face showed fear. “You mean the late emperor? The late emperor has been dead for more than three months, you didn’t know?”
“Of course I know. But Emperor Jinglong is not your uncle. He and Yu Wang were both b*stards born from the Empress Dowager, back then Qin Wangfei, having an affair with a common man!”
“Wha, what—” Su Xiaojing was so shocked he lost his voice.
A mocking curve appeared at the corner of Fan Momo’s shriveled mouth. “This matter, back then, many people in Qin Wang’s residence knew about it. Your Father Xin Wang’s birth mother, Consort Mo, who was a secondary consort of Qin Wang, exposed this matter and was therefore retaliated against, she was imprisoned for years and ultimately died at the hands of Qin Wangfei. Your Father Xin Wang and your uncle Ning Wang were also neglected by your grandfather for a long time because of this.”
“Later, just when they finally had a chance to rise, Emperor Jinglong used the pretext of reducing the power of the feudal lords to eliminate the princes who held military power one by one. Your Father Xin Wang was forced to death by him, under the charge of rebellion… Listen to that, rebellion! Simply laughable! A b*stard who stole the imperial throne, who exactly is rebelling against whom?”
Su Xiaojing’s face turned ashen as he shook his head and retreated again and again.
Fan Momo said sharply, “Emperor Jinglong is a b*stard, and his son, the current Emperor Qinghe, is naturally also a b*stard. And you, young master, you are the rightful imperial blood! Don’t forget, your Father Xin Wang was the eldest son of Emperor Xianzu. If not for Zhu Jintang stealing the throne, the one who should have become emperor would have been him!”
Su Xiaojing’s mind was already in complete chaos, Xin Wang, Ning Wang, the late emperor, Qin Wangfei, b*stard, rightful line… countless words howled and spun in his head, letting out piercing screams. He shook his head wildly. “I don’t know, I don’t know… who my Father is, who my uncle is…”
Fan Momo gripped his hand and said word by word, “Your Father is Xin Wang, Zhu Tanli, the true late emperor. You have only one paternal uncle, Ning Wang Zhu Tanluo, who shares the same mother as your Father. And you, young master, on the night Xin Wangfei sent you and your mother away, she personally gave you a name, Zhu Xian.
“Zhu Xian, that is the true emperor of the present dynasty.”
