Chapter Thirty-One

I nodded and said, “For those two things, I owe you thanks as well.”

She shook her head and said, “You don’t need to thank me, Princess. When I say these things I mean only one thing.” Her hand gripped the armrest; she paused before continuing, “Yuan Yue already knows the prince’s feelings for you. If fate allows me to serve the prince alongside you in the future, I would willingly yield the senior position to you as his elder sister.” My body stiffened. I pressed my lips tight and watched her — the woman who would be his wife sitting in my room tonight saying this; how was I supposed to handle it?

I poured another cup of hot tea and watched the water slowly fill it. “A marriage granted by the emperor is a blessing, a favor—but is it not also a hanging executioner’s sword? If the county lord would think of his own safety, he should forget this and marry happily, become the feared and respected Princess Consort of Yongping.”

She fixed her gaze on me and said, “Don’t you trust me, Princess?”

I shook my head, stood, lifted the cup, and went to her side. “You are his wife; in time he may take concubines and lesser wives, but he will never have me.” I handed her the tea and added, “If I marry into the Li family, I can only be the Princess of Linzi; otherwise it would mean death.”

There was no need to continue speaking; she had been at Taichu Palace from Daming Palace by her great-aunt the Empress’s side for five years. She must have seen and heard more than I did—how could she not understand the meaning behind this?

She took the cup, fell into her own reverie, and said nothing more. After a long while she rose to take her leave.

I sat quietly at the desk, staring at the game records spread out before me. The smile that had been on my face had long since faded; I looked hollowly at those pages of ancient and modern endgames and drifted off. After some time, Yixi suddenly brought in a small gilt lacquered brocade box, about the size of a palm, saying she did not know which palace maid had delivered it.

I sent her out and stared at the brocade box, hesitating to open it.

After a while, Yixi entered carrying an incense burner to fumigate the bed curtains. Seeing me still staring blankly at the brocade box, she said, “If the princess doesn’t like it, I’ll take it away and throw it out.” I shook my head gently, gathered myself, and reached out to lift the lid.

On the silk lay a horn comb and pick, their color like cold ice, their touch moist and smooth — surprisingly made of glass.

I held them up to the candlelight and examined them for a while, then began to understand. Most glass ornaments in the palace come from Taiyuan, but judging by the hue and the feel of these pieces, they were no ordinary work; only the Wang family of Taiyuan could have produced something like this.

At that thought I finally let go of the comb, unable to tell if I felt disappointment or relief. I casually picked a gold-inlaid jade hairpin from my jewelry box and instructed Yixi to send the comb back.

The next day the emperor was in good spirits, and he had gathered the accompanying princes, princesses, and the younger members of the five surnames and seven clans together.

The emperor had not yet arrived, but everyone had already assembled in the hall. When I entered, Li Chengqi was talking with his two younger brothers; he and Li Longji both stopped and looked at me, so I immediately averted my eyes. Just then an eunuch came in and announced that the emperor was already at the cool pavilion and asked us to go accompany His Majesty at once. After saying this he bowed and hurried off.

As I was leaving the hall, Li Longji strode over and walked down the stone steps beside me, smiling quietly, “The comb in your hair looks rather exquisite.” I glanced at him and replied, “Can the prince guess anything from it?” He sighed lightly and said, “At first I couldn’t, but when I saw the jade hairpin on that Wang family girl’s head, I understood.”

I smiled and said, “That Wang Huan has some thought to him; he’ll certainly be of help to you in the future.” He lightly touched the corner of his mouth and laughed, “I’d rather be an idle prince; one respectful wife is more than enough.” I rolled my eyes slightly and murmured, “Too bad you’re destined to be a prince with a harem.”

He and I traded barbs now and then, and Li Chengqi was always not far behind. His expression remained calm; he exchanged a few words with Li Chengyi from time to time, but was silent most of the time. I tried not to pay him any mind, but the more I did, the more my heart stayed with him — whatever Li Longji said barely registered.

As we neared the pavilion, even the hot air felt cooler.

Because this summer arrived unusually early, my uncle Wu Sansi had someone reconstruct this pavilion early on in the style of Taichu Palace. The pavilion faces the Shicong River and can hold several dozen people. In the river twelve waterwheels continually lifted water up to the pavilion roof, and from the eaves thin curtains of water hung down — most effective at dispelling heat and cooling the place.

When the dozen or so of us entered, Wan’er was talking with the Emperor, occasionally covering her mouth with a fan as if she was in the middle of an amused anecdote. Seeing us arrive, she lowered her voice briefly. The Empress Dowager looked up, scanned everyone, and smiled: “I was just discussing the calligraphy styles of the various families with Wan’er and found myself quite interested. Why don’t we take a look at the penmanship of you younger generation? The winner will receive a generous reward today.”

Wan’er laughed and agreed, “When I was young I heard people praise the calligraphy of the five clans and the royal branches. It’s rare that the Emperor’s investiture has gathered these young people together — a treat for my eyes.”

The younger members of those five and seven houses, upon hearing this, grew eager and ready to try; each of them bowed and accepted.

Wan’er immediately had six small writing tables set up in the pavilion. Once brushes, ink, and inkstones were all prepared, she bowed to the Emperor and said, “Your Majesty, we can only set up six tables for now. Perhaps the honored guests from the five families could remain as spectators and let these young ones start first?” The Empress Dowager nodded, “Very well, as you say.”

Wan’er smiled and invited the children of the five noble clans to step forward. As everyone reached for their brushes, she noticed Yuan Yue standing quietly to one side; however, there were already people standing beside all six desks, so she could only smile and say, “The county mistress is to be married into the palace — why not join the princes and princesses, all together? How about that?” Yuan Yue hurriedly returned the smile, “I will follow Miss Shangguan’s arrangements in everything.”

Wan’er nodded with a smile and examined the six people closely, nodding from time to time with an approving look in her eyes.

Li Longji also craned his neck to take a few glances, shook his head slightly, and said to me in a low voice, “These five surnames and seven clans always pride themselves on being aristocratic, especially the Li family of Longxi and Zhao Prefecture — they privately look down even on my imperial Li family. Seeing them now, they’re nothing special.” I looked at him with a smile and said softly, “If you find that unacceptable, later present an unrivaled masterpiece of calligraphy — it would at least restore some honor to the Li imperial clan.”

He lifted the corner of his mouth and half-smiled at me. “Back when my eldest brother befriended Ouyang Tong, it was because of that very handwriting. Ouyang Tong once said the four words ‘pen strokes that astonish heaven.’ No one in this pavilion could possibly surpass him,” he paused, then, with a hint of curiosity, added, “That said, I’ve never actually seen your brushwork. Whose model do you often copy?”

His question made me remember the book I had copied dozens of times myself: The Treatise on Letting Go.

By then the six had put down their pens. Wan’er personally came forward to collect the papers, examined them closely, and praised them enthusiastically. She said to the emperor, “Truly the sons and daughters of noble families each have their own distinctive brushwork. Should His Majesty look now, or wait until your grandsons have all finished before reading?” The emperor took the tea Yidu handed him and replied, “If we go one by one there will always be differences. Better to read them together.”

Wan’er nodded, clasped the stack of papers, and looked at us. “Princes and princesses, please.”

Li Longji winked at me and said softly, “Write it well — don’t embarrass me.” With that he walked over to a table and tilted his chin to signal the attendant beside him to grind ink.

I also moved to the desk and stared at the paper in front of me, my mind cycling through copybooks I’d seen before. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Li Chengqi pick up his brush; just as hesitation flickered across his face, Wan’er came to stand beside me and gave me a quick look, one that carried a warning.

I smiled at her helplessly. How could I not understand the danger here? My handwriting and his are now eight or nine parts similar — not only would the emperor notice, even an ordinary person might read too much into it… But years of practiced strokes are not something you can change in a single moment.

I bit my lip, trying to recall the brushwork from the rubbing of the Orchid Pavilion Preface while inwardly scoffing at myself. In these four years, aside from the Shisilu he personally copied and the Orchid Pavilion rubbing he brought from the Imperial Academy, I had not sought out any other rubbings or copybooks. Now, with the matter before me, I realized his marks had long followed me like a shadow.

I hesitated to put pen to paper for a long time. Li Longji beside me seemed to sense something, and turned his head to call me softly. I looked at him instinctively; he frowned slightly and looked at me as if he wanted to say something, but Wan’er interrupted. She came between the two of us, smiling at the Emperor, and said, “Your Majesty, look at these two—coming here now and exchanging looks and glances, it really makes others green with envy.”

The imperial great-aunt only smiled without speaking, her eyes full of meaning.

I saw Li Chengqi’s arm pause; my heart jumped wildly, and I hurriedly lowered my head, grit my teeth, and put pen to paper. The Lantingji and the Shisilun kept flashing through my mind, two completely different calligraphic styles twisted together by force into one. By the time I set the brush down, I was sweating all over. The pavilion still felt refreshingly cool, but it couldn’t quell the anxious heat in my chest.

Li Longji had stopped writing earlier; he glanced at my characters and looked at me in surprise.

Wan’er hurriedly gathered everyone’s calligraphy sheets, glanced at me closely, showed no reaction, but froze for a moment when she picked up Yuanyue’s paper. She did not try to hide the admiration in her eyes and placed that sheet at the very bottom of the stack. After tidying everything up, she walked to the imperial grand-aunt’s side, bowed, and handed over the pile.

The emperor leaned against the couch, two palace maids fanning him continuously to cool him. With the gentle flick of their ornate fans, my heart leapt wildly. The imperial grand-aunt, however, remained silent—nodding at times, smiling faintly at others. After she had examined all the sheets, she too looked carefully at Yuanyue’s, and it was a long while before she looked up and gave Yuanyue a slight, approving nod.

I watched with curiosity, puzzling it over, when the Emperor had already selected four sheets and said, “I fancy the handwriting of these people. Wan’er, you judge them—see if you can guess whose hands they are.”

Wan’er took the paper and examined it closely. After a moment she smiled gently and said, “These samples aren’t hard to guess; the Emperor is purposely setting me up for a little praise.” She drew one sheet and said, “Wang Xizhi’s Preface to the Orchid Pavilion—since the Eastern Jin so many have practiced from this rubbing. Any scholar might copy these characters, but the only one who could rightly present such writing before the court is the Lu of Fanyang. Young Master Lu, my congratulations.”

A tall, thin少年—rushed forward to offer his thanks.

Wan’er picked up the second sheet, pursed her lips and smiled for a long while, then said, “As for the Imperial grandson, I won’t take this chance to flatter.” She had heard that back at Qujiang’s Furong Garden someone once presented four characters to the prince, and bowing she made a salute to Li Chengqi, “The brushwork is astonishing.”

Li Chengqi smiled slightly and said, “Thank you, Miss Shangguan.”

Wan’er shook her head and smiled, then said to the emperor, “Your Majesty, of the next two people, which would you like me to praise first?” The emperor looked at her and smiled, “You ask that—does it have any particular significance?” Wan’er laughed, “Both are granddaughters-in-law. Should we choose by handwriting style or by seniority in age and rank, there ought to be a rule.”

“You really give nothing away,” Great-Grandmother Shangguan shook her head and smiled, “Then speak of the Yuan family first.”

Wan’er inclined her head, smiling as she looked at Yuan Yue. After a moment she sighed and said, “As for the county lord’s characters, I dare not comment lightly. So many scholars of our dynasty admire Wei and Jin calligraphy, and copy Northern Wei epitaph rubbings as models, but still cannot grasp the true essence.” She folded the sheet of paper and, to everyone’s surprise, tucked it into her bosom. She bowed to Yuan Yue and said, “The Northern Wei Yuan epitaphs are fine, but the county lord’s hand written here is even more graceful. I accept this treasure of ink—thank you, County Princess.”

Yuan Yue was stunned for a moment, her cheeks flushing as she smiled, suddenly embarrassed by Wan’er and not knowing how to respond.

The imperial grandaunt glanced at Wan’er and sighed with a smile, “What Wan’er says is not wrong. Emperor Taizong also greatly loved the epitaphs of the Northern Wei and especially admired the Yuan clan. I didn’t expect that the brushwork would be passed down through the generations; it still has direct inheritors.” She nodded and added, “Elegant and delicate, rounded and refined — it truly can be called a treasure of ink.”

Only then did I gradually recall that the Northern Wei Yuan family was renowned for their brushwork; no wonder Wan’er and the imperial grandaunt had both been astonished when they saw that handwriting earlier. At that moment Yuan Yue was pursing her lips and smiling at Li Chengqi; Li Chengqi looked back at her with a faint smile as well. I felt a little chill in my heart and turned my gaze away.

Wan’er laughed, “The emperor’s arranging this marriage for the prince of Yongping really is perfectly suited.” The imperial grandaunt looked at Li Longji with a smile and said, “The Yuan family indeed surprised me this time. It’s just a pity Longji has fallen half a step toward Yong’an. Wan’er, tell us about the last piece.”