Chapter Thirty-Four

My spine stiffened, and I stopped writing. I said, “Third Prince, what sort of play are you trying to perform?”

There was a long silence behind me before Li Longji finally laughed, “I’ll join you in a scene about the debauched Prince of Linzi—on the wedding night with the rightful wife.” My eyes were swollen and aching; I was too tired to banter. I rose, took the little red-clay brazier’s tea kettle from the table, and brewed a pot. After I closed the lid, I said, “Go back quickly. Though Lady Wang is a secondary consort, she won’t tolerate jokes like this on her wedding night.”

He came over, took the teapot from my hand, and poured two cups of hot tea.

There were braziers in each corner, but the room still felt a bit chilly; faint white steam rose from the teacup and dispersed. He lifted a cup of tea and held it out in front of me. Just as I was about to take it, he withdrew his hand, hesitating: “Your eyes are so swollen—have you been crying?” I looked at the crimson ceremonial robe beneath his heavy outer gown, my eyes stinging, and said, “Yes. The people in the palace speak so cruelly; I was driven to tears.”

He frowned, a touch of displeasure showing in his drunken, drowsy eyes. “When you speak to me, you don’t need to beat around the bush.” Seeing him gripping the cup tightly, I went to take another cup of tea, only to burn my hand on the rim. I gave an embarrassed smile and said, “Didn’t you think it was hot?” He shook his head. “I’ve been drinking too much. The heat can barely keep me conscious for a while longer.”

Hearing him say that, I hurried to close the wide-open window and helped him sit in a chair. “Walking from the Eastern Palace must have brought in a lot of wind. Want me to get you some sobering soup?” He shook his head lazily and leaned back in the chair, looking me over from head to toe. After he’d looked his fill, he closed his eyes and said, “My head’s spinning.”

I whispered a couple of nervous instructions to the little eunuch standing outside the door. After a moment he brought in a basin of hot water, then hurried out and shut the door. I dampened a white cloth and said to Li Longji, “Wipe your face with the hot water, and then we’ll go back. If someone from the Eastern Palace comes looking, it’ll be a real joke.”

Li Longji shifted his body, opened his eyes slightly, took a wet wipe and wiped his hands, and said, “When did I say I was leaving? I’ll be staying here tonight.” I didn’t think he was joking, so I answered seriously, “You can’t just duck out on your wedding night. Besides,” I glanced at him and smiled, “what are you trying to hide from?”

He brightened his eyes, gazed at me intently, then in an instant they dimmed again as he continued wiping his hands, stroke by stroke.

“Yongan, actually I really want to marry you,” he said suddenly.

I was startled, my hand gripping the edge of the table so hard it trembled, trying to suppress the unease rising in my chest. He continued drying his hands without looking at me; as if guessing I wouldn’t answer, after a moment he tossed the wet cloth into the copper basin, rose, and lay down on the couch fully clothed.

By the candlelight, his cheeks were pale from drink; that pure face looked even colder.

I sat in the chair, clutching the teacup, no longer having the strength to persuade him to leave. Seven years of knowing each other, four years promised in marriage, from when we were half-grown children to now young men—so much time had passed. Thinking back to the moments since we met again, those almost-imperceptible words and expressions, I wasn’t unaware of them, but I mostly felt they were bonds forged in hardship.

In hindsight, it was all just my own arrogance.

The Sleepless Night of the Palace of Primordia, the Flower-and-Candle Night of the Eastern Palace — I had thought it would be a hard night to get through, but I never imagined it would come to this.

When dawn broke a little, I finally got up and opened the window. After sitting up all night I felt light-headed and my nose a bit blocked; it seems like the first sign of a chill. If the Imperial Medical Bureau were to prescribe something, who knows how word would spread through the palace. I was lost in thought when rustling sounds came from the couch: Li Longji had woken and was sitting up.

I turned to look at him and, feigning nonchalance, said, “What, awake?” He nodded, pressed his fingers to his brow and let out a long sigh. “Those cups kept coming last night—I felt dizzy the whole time. It’s only now I realize how strong that wine was.” I smiled, about to call someone in to attend him, when I heard a palace maid outside offering formal greetings. I exchanged a glance with him and immediately understood.

It must be people sent by Wang Huan.

Sure enough, when I opened the door, four palace maids in blue and two eunuchs bowed hurriedly at the threshold. The lead maid said, “The Side Consort has ordered sobering soup and breakfast prepared. Will the Prince have them now?” Li Longji said, “Bring them in.” The maid replied, then first instructed one beside her to bring hot water. She took the copper basin to Li Longji and, with respectful eyes, looked toward me.

She looked at me in a way that made me a little uneasy. When Li Longji laughed at me as well, I realized they wanted me to attend to his face. I went over, dampened a white cloth and handed it to him. He nodded in great satisfaction, though there was a teasing smile in his eyes. He wiped his face clean, then took another sip of tea to rinse his mouth. After everything was put in order, the head maid instructed the servants to set a low table by the bed and brought the morning meal.

Looking at the breakfast on the low table, it was clear the dishes had been thoughtfully arranged, and the portions were for two. I couldn’t help feeling a twinge of guilt toward Lady Wang.

Li Longji took up his chopsticks and, after picking at the food for a moment, added a lot more to my plate. “Eat more,” he said. I remembered what had been said last night and felt a bit evasive. Smiling, I replied, “I’m not hungry. Prince Wang, you eat yourself.” He shot me a sidelong glance, then returned to his usual bright tone: “Second Consort specially ordered portions for two—surely you won’t disappoint her kindness?”

With the palace maids and eunuchs present, I couldn’t contradict him, so I sat down and kept him company while he ate.

The two of them were unusually quiet, each eating separately; the palace maids and eunuchs beside them stood with bowed heads, not daring to breathe.

When the chopsticks were put down, a palace maid brought up some tea. Li Longji took it up and smelled it, half-smiling, half-not: “My favorite is ‘Lv Changming.’” The maid bowed and said, “This was prepared on the side concubine’s special orders.”

Li Longji gave a faint hmph and said, “I understand. There’s no need to say such things again in future.” The maid, hearing the displeasure in his words, hurriedly bent and knelt, saying, “I spoke hastily, please forgive your lordship.”

Li Longji didn’t look at her and said offhandedly, “You may rise.” He took another sip and then said to me, “You must finish all of this—leave not a single bite. I’m taking Lady Wang to pay respects to the Imperial Grandmother.” After he spoke, he added more food to my plate and set down his chopsticks. I put mine down and said, “I really can’t eat any more. I didn’t sleep all night and I have no appetite.” He didn’t reply, but raised an eyebrow and looked at me in a suggestive way. Being looked at like that, I began to realize another meaning behind it and, both embarrassed and annoyed, shot him an angry glare.

You ate a little longer before putting down your chopsticks. He tapped the table with his fingers and said, “You sound very nasal. Let Shen Qiu take a look later.” I smiled briefly. “It’s nothing serious, no need to trouble Imperial Physician Shen.” He looked at me intently and said, “I’ll only be at ease if Shen Qiu examines you.” I was left momentarily speechless; he had already stood and quickly walked out the door.

Once the others had left, Yixi came in and cleared the bowls and dishes from the little table. She looked as if she wanted to say something but ultimately remained silent.

The second day of the second month was a day for spring outings to welcome good fortune.

Grandmother the Imperial Aunt doted on the two Zhang brothers. Because they’d never seen a royal hunt, she ordered Uncle Wu Sansi to prepare one on the outskirts of Luoyang, arranging a three-day itinerary and inviting ministers along with the sons of the Li and Wu families to accompany them.

Since the time of Emperor Taizong, the imperial family had not held a hunt for many years. The late emperor’s frail health and the fact that the empress dowager was, after all, a woman meant they didn’t share Taizong’s passion for shooting bows and hunting across the plains.

On this day, the sky was washed clear and the sun warm but not fierce — perfect hunting weather.

In the great tent, the Li family’s martial descendants sat with the empress dowager for a meal. Wan’er brought tea to the emperor, but the empress dowager waved it away with a smile. “Watching the grandchildren hunt today, we should drink a little,” she said, then looked toward Yuanyue. “Consort Yuan, I’m used to you pouring my wine. Today you’ll serve me closely.”

Yuanyue hurried to her feet and went to wash her hands at the side. Taking a silver ladle, she drew a little from the pale jade wine vessel, bowed and lifted it to brow level. “Your Majesty.” The emperor did not take the cup; he watched her with amusement. “What’s this — married to my grandson and you still haven’t lost your old habit?” Yuanyue hastily raised the vessel higher. “Grandmother, please, have some.”

The Emperor only then took it and, to Li Chengqi, said, “Have Consort Yuan come to the Changsheng Hall often from now on. I’m getting old and a bit nostalgic—I like to have old companions around.” Li Chengqi rose, smiling respectfully, “I will follow Imperial Grandmother’s arrangements.” The Emperor nodded, “Sit down. The imperial hunt hasn’t been held in years. Your horsemanship is famous both inside and outside the palace—don’t disappoint me.” Li Chengqi modestly replied and sat back down.

At the table, because of Princess-Grandmother’s remark, everyone grew lively, flattering each other about their horsemanship and archery.

He always wore a faint smile, drinking without speaking. I took advantage of the commotion to quietly watch him raise his cup, drain it in one, refill it—every gesture like drifting clouds and flowing water, flawless.

Since the marriage, word from the Eastern Palace was that the Prince of Yongping and his princess were in perfect harmony, while the Prince of Linzi and his concubine were at daggers drawn. Yixi would often mimic me and sigh, saying that although the Prince of Linzi could be a bit hot-headed, he treated me extremely well—no wonder they had known each other since childhood.

I heard it all and smiled bitterly in my heart.

For a whole month he didn’t come looking for me. I, too, worked hard to calm my mind in Yanta. Now, seeing the gentle grace on Yuan Yue’s face and his unchanged, unruffled charm, it really does seem our zither and lute are in harmony and we live with mutual respect.

Yongtai bumped me with his shoulder, and I abruptly drew my gaze back.

She said softly, “Just now I saw Zhang Jiuling.” I answered with a hum and quietly said, “There were too many people and too many eyes at this hunt. Don’t be reckless again.” She lowered her eyes, looking somewhat displeased. “At the Qujiang gathering I insisted on forcing him to accompany me. He drank tea and wrote poetry all night—outwardly polite but deliberately distant. How could I not see it?” She was silent for a moment, then added, “If… if I asked Grandmother the Empress Dowager to arrange a marriage for me, what would happen?”

My heart skipped a beat as I remembered the matter of Yongtai and Zhang Jiuling. If Yongtai requested an imperial marriage, the emperor would inevitably send people to investigate how the match came about; following the thread could expose who knows how much. Though I knew Zhang Jiuling and Li Chengqi were close acquaintances, I didn’t know how deep their relationship was or whether it had ties to court affairs. If it did have serious implications, it would surely implicate Li Chengqi as well.

Thinking of that, I lowered my voice and said, “This is a serious matter; we can’t act rashly.” Yongtai focused on me and said, “Half a month ago when I went to pay respects, the imperial grandmother casually mentioned arranging a marriage. If I don’t ask first, I’ll be given to the Wu family.” She bit her lip and looked at me, then added, “I don’t want that.”

Seeing how earnest she was, I felt three times as alarmed. The imperial great-aunt had always doted on her; naturally Yongtai assumed that if she made a request, she would get her wish and wouldn’t consider the hidden troubles that might follow. If we tried to block it head-on and failed, it would only make her more defiant. It would be better to soothe her first and take the opportunity to sound out Zhang Jiuling’s intentions—when it comes to untangling knots, you need the person who tied them, especially in matters of the heart.

I murmured a few comforting words before she fell silent, though she remained sullen.

After the meal, the emperor told everyone to make ready. I changed into something more convenient inside my tent, then hurried to the already-erected high platform where the martial Li family were preparing the horses.

The guards led out the imperial mounts one by one and first invited Zhang’s two brothers to choose. That peach-blossom-eyed Zhang Changzong casually pointed to a horse, and Uncle Wu Sansi actually stepped forward to take the bridle for him himself. Wu Chengsi was even more enthusiastic, helping Zhang Changzong up into the saddle.

Not far off, the imperial grandaunt watched with a smiling face and cautioned, “Sixth Lord, be careful. You are not like those who ride every day—just have a good time.” Under the bright sun Zhang Changzong smiled with all the coquetry he could muster: “Your Majesty, I will surely hunt down something fine for you.”

Wu Sansi under the horse quickly forced a smile and said, “Sixth Lord is handsome and talented; today he will surely win first place.” The ministers echoed his words. Zhang Changzong and Zhang Yizhi exchanged a pleased look, and the imperial grandaunt nodded indulgently; only after more admonitions did she finally relax.

I was watching from one side, inwardly sighing at how favored and illustrious the two of them were, when I saw several princes change horses and approach.

In the warm sunlight, Li Chengqi wore a silver-patterned narrow-sleeved robe that reached just to his knees, a pale green leather belt at his waist, and black long boots. Facing the pale golden light, his expression was hard to make out. Beside him, Li Chengyi was also elegant and handsome. Li Longji had not changed his riding clothes—still in his usual garments and soft boots—looking like a debonair young noble in a troubled world.

When the three of them paid their respects, the imperial grandaunt’s eyes showed admiration as well; to Wan’er she said, “Look at my grandsons—how grown they’ve become.” Wan’er inclined her head and smiled, “At first glance just now, when I saw the Prince of Yongping, I actually thought I was seeing the Prince of Lanling.”

The Imperial Aunt chuckled and shook her head. “Then let me be a little proud. Chengqi today is on par with Lanling, perhaps even surpasses him,” she said, then looked at Li Longji and asked curiously, “Longji, why haven’t you changed your horse gear?” Li Longji hurriedly bowed and replied, “Grandson injured his foot when he came; for the past three days he was afraid he could only watch from a seat.” The Imperial Aunt voiced a few more concerns before nodding and signaling everyone to mount.

He and Li Chengyi picked horses and swung into the saddle, turning their backs to the sun and glancing over the group, lingering at my place for a moment. I quickly moved aside, and only after hearing the thunder of countless hooves did I dare look back, watching the silver-white figures receding beneath the sun from afar, standing there dazed.