Chapter Thirty-Five

When the first deer was presented, it was indeed announced in the name of Zhang Changzong.

Grandmother the Imperial Aunt was overjoyed, smiling nonstop as she and Wan’er praised him. The women present all understood the truth: each nobleman at the side had two hunting attendants; whoever managed to shoot first and switch arrows would be credited with the feat — who would bother to inspect the arrowheads? Among those in the arena were not only various princes but also men who had recently passed the military exam. If Zhang Changzong hadn’t been the emperor’s most favored companion, how would he have been allowed such privileges as an embroidered pillow?

At that moment, Princess Taiping lifted her skirts and walked up to the high pavilion to pay respects to Grandmother the Imperial Aunt. “Mother Empress, I was delayed on my way out of the palace and arrived late,” she said. The emperor nodded with a smile. “You came at the right time. Sixth Prince claimed first place today; I was wondering how to reward him.” Taiping’s lips curved slightly as she praised, “Truly the son of a great family — both civil and military talents in equal measure.”

Because the pavilion was draped with curtains on three sides and warmed by forty-eight carved bronze braziers, it was very cozy. Taiping let one of the palace maids behind her remove her gold-threaded embroidered robe, took a handwarmer, and sat down beside the emperor. They spoke softly, mother and daughter laughing together from time to time.

Her face and the bearing between her brows resembled the Emperor’s by seventy percent; both wore smiles that carried authority.

Yuan Yue was holding the jade ladle to refill wine when Taiping glanced at her, half-closed the wine jar, and said to the Emperor with a smile, “It seems Madam Yuan has been serving for a while. How could Your Majesty forget the other daughter-in-law?” The Emperor shook his head with a smile and said, “I’m used to Yuan Yue; it’s only when you mention it that it feels like I’m showing deliberate favor.” When she finished speaking, Taiping looked to Li Longji’s side; Wang Huan, who was sitting beside him, hurriedly rose to wash his hands and took the ladle from Yuan Yue.

After refilling for the Emperor and Taiping, she proceeded to pour wine for each princess present. When she reached Yongtai’s seat, Yongtai deliberately made things difficult and knocked over the wine cup twice. Only when Taiping sternly scolded him did Yongtai settle down, though his eyes were full of hostility. I knew Yongtai was acting because of me, so, helplessly amused, I gave her a sly look to signal she mustn’t grow arrogant from favor.

Unexpectedly, that glance was noticed by the standing Wang Huan. Her expression changed; she pressed her lips together and walked to me to perform a greeting.

I inwardly chided myself for trapping my own feet and smiled at her: “You needn’t add wine for me as a consort-in-waiting; I don’t drink much.” Wang Huan smiled, squatted down, scooped a ladle of wine from the jade bucket held by the palace maid behind her, filled the wine jug, then indicated to a nearby maid to bring an empty jug and filled that one too. Only after putting down the ladle did she lift the jug and say, “Although elder sister hasn’t formally entered the palace yet, she is my future principal consort; as your younger sister I should offer you a cup.” After speaking she tipped her head back and drained it in one.

With everyone watching, she was so humble; if I refused to drink that wine, it would be hard to justify.

I bit my lip, thinking the rash would clear in a few days, and reached for the wine gourd. Just as I was about to drink, someone behind me grabbed my wrist. Li Longji looked at me coldly and said, “Since you already have an old illness, there’s no need to follow these worldly rites.” I frowned at him, about to say something, when Wang Huan bowed his head and said to Li Longji, “It was my ignorance, my prince, please restrain your anger.”

Li Longji raised an eyebrow and said to her, “Why would I be angry? I’m only concerned for Yong’an’s health. You may rise.” Wang Huan looked a little pale and was about to say more, but Taiping laughed and cut in, “Longji, how can you act like this before His Majesty’s presence? Go back and sit down.” As she spoke she smiled at the emperor, “Yong’an has been copying sutras with Master Yijin for half a year now. It might be better to marry her into the Eastern Palace sooner rather than later, so Longji doesn’t keep running off to the Wild Goose Pagoda and cause a scandal.”

My heart tightened and I pulled my hand away from Li Longji. It’s been half a year of transcribing sutras—if Li Longji looks for another excuse, people will only grow suspicious. Could an edict of betrothal be avoided for a day or two? Could it be avoided for a lifetime?

At that moment, the imperial grandaunt suddenly nodded and, as if in thought, said, “By the old customs, once a prince or a royal grandson takes a concubine he must leave the palace; the marriage should be completed sooner rather than later, so that the Prince of Linzi’s household will have a principal wife to manage affairs.”

I stared at His Majesty in shock. Li Longji suddenly released his grip as well, seeming extremely startled; even Princess Taiping, who usually remained indifferent to honor or shame, failed to pick up the thread. Those princes had been confined inside the palace for years—so why raise the matter of leaving the palace today? The imperial grandaunt’s casual remark always carried her thoughts about the heir; letting Li Chengqi and the others out—could it be that she intended to restore power to the Crown Prince, to return the realm to the Li family?

My heart was both glad and worried: glad because if the Crown Prince ascended the throne, the marriage would surely have a chance to change; worried because I didn’t know if there would be time to turn everything around before I was married into the Prince of Linzi’s household.

For a moment the scene fell silent. With no one paying attention to the commotion between Wang Huan and me, everyone sank into uneasy speculation.

Suddenly a horse came thundering from afar and raced up to the imperial presence. The mounted guard leapt down in panic, pale-faced, knelt before the platform and cried out loudly, “Report to the Emperor: the Prince of Yongping has been struck by an arrow and fallen from his horse—he’s been hurried back to the camp for urgent treatment.”

My heart clenched sharply; I braced myself on the table, unable to believe what I had heard. At that moment, with a clatter, Yuan Yue dropped his wine jar and sprang to his feet, his face draining of color as he stared at the people below the platform, but constrained by being before the emperor, he could not speak to ask.

The imperial grandaunt rose, frowning. “Who did this?” The guard’s voice was rough. “Just now outside the woods, the princes and officials each brought their hunting attendants, saying they wanted to compete. Unexpectedly, the forest was deep and the trees thick—Prince of Hengyang missed his aim and took Minister Zhang for game, loosing an arrow. Prince of Yongping rushed forward and blocked him, taking the blow.”

The women present uttered shocked whispers at this; the emperor’s face also darkened. He was silent for a moment before coldly ordering, “I will not pursue this matter further, but what of Prince Yongping’s wounds?” The guard hurried, “Imperial physician Shen examined him a moment ago—the arrow struck his back, but his life is not in danger.” Taiping snorted and interrupted, “Immediately have the hunting attendants present executed by the rod as an example. They were merely accompanying the hunt; failing to warn the princes and officials in time is a capital crime!”

I let out a relieved breath, which was immediately followed by a pain like a knife scraping my heart, slicing down to the bone.

Suddenly, a weight settled on my shoulder. Li Longji gripped my shoulder tightly, his strength enormous; I felt the pain in my shoulder shift to numbness. I glanced back at him. He wore a worried expression, staring blankly at the dense woods in the distance, but his eyes were extremely cold.

The Imperial Aunt admonished a few more times, nothing more than instructing Shen Qiu to treat him diligently and to report the injury as soon as anything changed. After that, everyone fell silent. A few uncles in the distance hovered around the Zhang brothers. When Zhang Changzong climbed the high platform, his face was ashen; the Imperial Aunt grabbed his hand and comforted him for a while before he returned to the imperial tent.

Everyone had left, and Yuan Yue had already hurried back to the tent, but I still sat where I was, staring blankly.

Because of that incident, the emperor initially issued an order to return to the palace. Unexpectedly, after the Zhang brothers recovered, they felt their faces had been lost and insisted on hunting for three more days before going back. The emperor, helpless, then decreed that all the princes and ministers should be careful over the next two days and spend time accompanying the two men on the pretend hunt, and under no circumstances engage in any contests or competitions.

I felt restless in the tent, dazed for a moment before stepping out and standing at the entrance. Looking toward the campfires, music and dancing filled the night; the tense atmosphere of the daytime had completely vanished. Great-Aunt the Imperial Matriarch was in a rare, good mood, and the courtiers and princes naturally obliged with full attention.

“Yong’an,” Li Longji suddenly appeared behind me and said softly, “I’ll take you to see Big Brother.” My heart tightened, and I didn’t answer. In the half-light, his expression was extremely grave; he stood for a moment before adding, “Don’t worry about being seen. I’ll go with you, and if anyone notices, they won’t think much of it.”

I looked at his face and had a bad premonition. He went on, “He’s extremely dangerous right now. If you don’t go…” The firelight cast a haze in his eyes. “I’m afraid you’ll regret it.” I gasped, staring at him. “Why does this differ from what the guards reported?” He pulled a bitter smile. “This is a grave matter; naturally it must be suppressed before the throne. Enough of that—come with me.” With that he turned first; I didn’t hesitate and hurried after him.

Outside the Prince of Yongping’s tent, He Fu stood with an eunuch guard. There weren’t many attendants, as if deliberately downplaying the situation inside. He took one startled look at me, then hurriedly bowed and let us in.

The tent was very quiet. Each step I took made my heart beat faster, until we rounded the screen and I finally saw the three people inside.

By lamplight, Li Chengqi was leaning on the daybed, whispering with Shen Qiu, his garments still as neat as ever… To one side, Yuan Yue was carrying tea; seeing me she gave a sudden start and stepped back two paces from the couch.

I stood still, my mind racing with a hundred suppositions, though my eyes saw nothing else. He too looked up and smiled faintly at me.

Shen Qiu sat by the couch, as if sensing Yuan Yue’s change, glanced back at me, sighed softly, and said to Li Chengqi with a smile, “What a pity, what a pity— the beauty risked her life to see, yet the hero remains unharmed.” Saying that, he set down the arrowhead, shook his head with a smile, and strode out.

Li Longji stood at my side and whispered, “Don’t blame me; blame Shen Qiu—he was the one who came up with the idea.” After he spoke, he and Yuan Yue stepped back and left.

Now the tent held only him and me. I saw the apologetic look on his face and slowly understood what I was seeing… it turned out he wasn’t injured at all; he had only falsely reported on Grandmother Imperial Aunt.

Thinking that far, I felt equal parts angry and amused; I wanted to turn and leave, but couldn’t bring myself to. Even if no one was actually harmed, it must have been perilous — so why should I fuss over his small scheme against Imperial Aunt?

He looked at me gently and didn’t speak; his gaze made me a little nervous, and I went to sit on the edge of the platform. “Why deceive the Emperor?” I asked.

Li Chengqi watched me take the matter so seriously and couldn’t help but smile more deeply. “You don’t need to pry further,” he said. “This concerns something grave, but if you put it plainly, it’s just power struggles at court that ended up harming a favored consort.” I looked at him, puzzled. “Who exactly wanted Zhang Changzong dead? Is it true what people say, that it was Prince Hengping’s arrow?” He replied coolly, “All the hunting attendants present were already dead; Zhang Changzong was so frightened he passed out and couldn’t see. Who it was still needs careful investigation.”

Hearing him speak so calmly, Zhang Changzong’s face rose before my eyes and I couldn’t help but laugh softly. He watched me with a smile at the corner of his mouth; when my laughter stopped he asked, “What did Longji say to you just now?” I muttered, “He said you’re on death’s door.” He sighed and said, “If it weren’t so, would you really not have come?”

His question left me momentarily speechless. I couldn’t help but recall the scene of Yuan Yue offering him tea just now, and my expression darkened. If things weren’t as they were, would I have come? Could I really have the heart not to come? But even if I did come, what then? It would only be like drinking poison to quench my thirst. Today Princess Taiping raised the matter of marriage — tomorrow someone else would bring it up again…

I turned my head and stared at the ground, saying, “It’s obvious to everyone how Lady Yuan feels about you. Besides, in the future you’ll certainly have many concubines and numerous offspring. One more of me won’t make a difference, but one less could spare a lot of trouble.”

He was silent for a long time, then wrapped his arms around me from behind and said softly, “When I was six, the uncle who loved me most was ordered to die; that same year, my grandmother the Empress Dowager designated me crown prince. At fourteen I was deposed, at sixteen my mother died under mysterious circumstances — there was no body to bury and I couldn’t mourn her properly. At seventeen I was falsely accused of treason by Lai Junchen and endured all manner of tortures in the imperial prison; I barely survived. Today’s events are only the tip of the iceberg. As an imperial grandson I live each day on thin ice, my life always uncertain. Someone like me cannot bear the weight of more people’s lives, except for my father and brothers,” his breathing was steady, he paused for a moment, then continued, “and you.”