Chapter Text

Chapter 6

They needed to wait.

Now that the emperor, agitated from the revolt, had hurried with his appointment of a crown prince, there no longer were any obstacles to the plan’s fulfillment – yet they had to wait. Changsu was as earnest as possible, explaining this to Jingyan. What needed to be done now was to calm the emperor’s suspicions, remind him that Jingyan was a dutiful son – and not inflame him with reminders of the Chiyan army and Prince Qi.

Though, in this area, it turned out that Prince Yu was truly useful.

Changsu became worried when it was reported to him that Jingyan had gone to, and stayed the night at Hongxiu Zhao on the night of his new title’s assignment. After all, that very same entertainment house was the heart of Qin Banruo’s spiderweb, and even if Prince Yu sincerely wanted to conquer the crown prince’s sympathy, the Hua beauty herself might have different intentions.

However, Jingyan returned home the next morning, and though he didn’t come to visit Changsu, Zhen Ping and Fei Liu, who had been watching the prince’s residence from the wall, reported that the crown prince looked hearty enough, and quite satisfied with things. On that very same day the hurricane of the move to the Eastern Palace started up. And in two more days, the crown prince and Prince Yu spectacularly tore into each other over shipments of lumber to the capital, right before the imperial throne.

The city had not even recovered from the flooding, when the rebellion had followed with all its fires – and the demand for log and boards had skyrocketed. According to the rumors that had reached Changsu, the argument had begun from Prince Yu’s polite objection to the crown prince’s suggestion to buy out a certain amount of lumber with state funds and distribute it to those affected. How an entirely comprehensible conversation became an all-out fight within three or four exchanges, even Shen Zhui couldn’t tell. He had come to visit Master Su purposely, simply to relate this event. Either Prince Yu had made an unfortunately sarcastic remark, or the crown prince had not expressed himself carefully enough… Altogether, the princes quarreled as though there had been no disfavor, no rebellion, no appointment of the crown prince – exactly the same as half a year ago.

In the words of the rather upset Minister Shen, the emperor had watched them like a man watching sparrows fight: with wonder and fondness. In the end, he chided his sons for their quarrel, unbecoming of brothers, ordered Prince Yu to handle supply, while the crown prince was ordered to supervise the rebuilding of the damaged districts. Both princes remained dissatisfied, by all accounts.

As always, the court held its breath, observing as the apparently improving relationship between the brothers flew to pieces. And Jingyan, who came to visit the advisor after a day, seemed not to know whether to enjoy himself or to fret.

“Fifth Brother’s performance almost convinced me.” He spread his hands. “I only thought it all over afterwards, and I’m certain that he was taunting me on purpose, so that I would answer in the necessary way, but… It was so plausibly done that it was hard not to believe!”

“Perhaps Your Highness should be concerned that it is so easy for Prince Yu to make you lose your temper?” Changsu objected. “One is entirely convinced this was that self-same planned quarrel – for minor reasons, but able to show everyone that there is no friendship between you. However, if Your Highness first were angered, and only later realized that it was a performance…”

“I know how bad it is.” Jingyan unhappily lowered his head, frowning. “The fact that it’s easy to rile me up, and that Fifth Brother is so good at it. Perhaps I should… Train myself? I heard that if one takes small doses of poison each day, the body could be tempered in such a manner that it could resist a large portion…”

“Small doses of Prince Yu’s poison?” Almost for the first time in long months, Changsu felt that he was about to laugh. “Your Highness, one is afraid that in the nearest future, there should be no close association. Or, maybe, in secret. But it would be difficult – Your Highness is moving to the Eastern Palace, after all.”

Jingyan cast a bewildered glance about the room, and Changsu understood: the crown prince had not yet even thought about the fact that he would no longer have the opportunity to walk the secret tunnel.

“Yes,” he muttered. “It will not be easy. On the other hand, the palace is vast and it would not be too difficult to meet secretly, or accidentally. Anyway, I’m no lady of the harem and I am not locked in, I will ride out into the city… I suppose Fifth Brother and I will find a way of seeing one another without negating the tales. If you, Master Su, recommend such training.”

Changsu looked away, as if newly examining the bookshelves, hangings, and candelabras after the prince.

“If Your Highness yourself does not wish to do it, better not to try and force it. Prince Yu is sensitive to falsehood. I had to be boundlessly careful not to give myself away in the time when he thought that the choice had fallen to him.”

After a short silence, Jingyan sighed heavily:

“I don’t know myself, Master Su. Fifth Brother… He’s easy to get along with when he wants it. But every now and then I remember that we were enemies so recently, that he is sly and experienced in the weaving of traps, and I think: what if his cordiality is hiding some poison needle within, even still? And then I am ashamed of myself, taking his help. And then again… Will I ever be able to deal with this division? How can I prove to myself that a man truly wishes me well, when I have already received evil from him?”

“It is very difficult,” Changsu agreed, and did not remind Jingyan of the possibility of control through one’s closest people or other interests. Really, it wasn’t like they were taking Princess-Consort Yu hostage. Even that method had its faults: nobody knew where Tong Lu had disappeared to. “But while Prince Yu has no considerably serious opportunity to strike a blow at Your Highness, one would consider that he truly does wish to be useful.”

Jingyan forcefully ran a hand over his face.

“I did not think that being a brother would be so… Complicated.”

“Forgive me, Your Highness. I constantly wonder whether it was truly good counsel I gave you then, and can give myself no answer.”

“Well,” the crown prince got to his feet, “In any case, it’s better than war. I have nothing to reproach you in, Master Su: and I, myself, wished to think of some method of helping Fifth Brother. Forgive me, I have taken much of your time, speaking of trifles…”

He bowed out, and descended into the underground tunnel – too quickly, as it seemed to Changsu. But, perhaps, he simply didn’t want to let him go so soon? The cunning advisor could think of dozens of pretexts to delay the crown prince for another hour or two. However the prince still had the move to the Eastern Palace ahead of him, and there was absolutely no reason Changsu should tire him out by foisting his company upon him.

Awaiting an appropriate moment tormented Mei Changsu far more than Jingyan. Frozen in inaction, he imagined far too clearly, water dripping, drop by drop through a crack in the bottom of a vase: the time allotted to him. Lin Chen, summoned by letter from Southern Chu, would not arrive soon – while Doctor Yan drew his gray brows together more often and got more and more quarrelsome every time Changsu missed a dose of medicine, or simply even took a walk in the garden while insufficiently warmly wrapped up. Changsu was unafraid of death, but he was afraid of dying without commencing what he had planned.

That evening, however, he was unable to worry about the future for too long: Prince Yu made an appearance.

This was his very first visit after that day when he had asked Jingyan for permission to make advances to the ‘elder sister’ (the image of the older lady in gray dress rose before Changsu’s eyes) and it was not quite clear what to expect. Just in case, Changsu readied himself to look weakened and ill.

However, the first thing Prince Yu asked after his greeting was exactly, ‘how are you feeling, and have I troubled you,’ and seeing as he had asked the question without yet sitting down – as in, he was ready to get out immediately – he had to answer that he should have enough strength for a measured discussion over tea.

Before, Prince Yu did not simply come to ‘visit’ Changsu – he would always come with business, and such business was not of the sort where they could relax during its discussion, even for a minute. However, currently he held to the tactics of a ‘social visit’ and Changsu very quickly understood what hid behind Jingyan’s words: ‘he’s easy to get along with when he wants it.’

It was easy. Not a word on matters at court, not a single ambiguous implication. By way of a gift, Prince Yu brought an excellent spring tea, and a box with sweets: some dried fruits and strips of dough, cooked in spiced honey – such as could be found anywhere in Langzhou, but almost never in the capital. Fei Liu, having caught the half- forgotten scent, cautiously snuck into the room and wavered in doubt – could he snatch some pieces out from under the arm of this guest? Before, Changsu would always ask Fei Liu to keep out of sight when Prince Yu was present. However, the prince noticed the boy, grinned, and held out a wrapped package himself.

“This is for you, great warrior.”

The wrapped package also smelled of treats. Fei Liu grabbed it, and leapt up to the roof in the blink of an eye, from where, in a short time, they could hear a very satisfied: ‘Tasty!’

“He has approved of you, Your Highness,” Changsu remarked, painstakingly hiding surprise.

“Yes? I thought that when he kindly took to driving away the rebels from me, on Jiu’an Mountain…”

“Then, he only liked the sound of Your HIghness’s bow. This is different.”

Prince Yu shook his head in cheerful amazement:

“You are exceptionally gifted by the Heavens, Master Su. To be able to find a common language with such an… Uncommon young man. That requires extraordinary talent.”

“Much in that is luck, and the rest – patience,” Changsu objected. “But that is fair to those, too, who raise their own children.”

The prince gave a short nod, and Changsu grimaced inwardly: in Jinghuan’s case, it was doubtful that much patience was applied to his upbringing, and such topics shouldn’t be brought up – and when he spoke again, it was more slowly:

“Forgive me a much too direct question, Master Su. But, it seems, you are entirely alone? No blood relatives?”

The question was not only much too direct – it was entirely and wholly tactless… Or it would have been, had Mei Changsu not known the matter of Prince Yu’s own familial ties. A secret once entrusted called for answering candor, and Changsu answered evenly:

“No, no-one of my family is alive any longer. There are some relatives on my mother’s side, but they would not know me, nor remember me, should I appear on their doorstep.”

“Ah. I thought…” the prince hesitated, then shook his head, “Never mind. Allow me to pour you tea?”

“Your Highness, it is I who must pour you tea, for not only are you my guest, but your position…”

“But I am seeking your favor, remember?” The prince smiled, more so with his eyes, and Changsu thought that ‘Mistress Su,’ not spoiled with attention, would now fall into a happy swoon. “Now that the crown prince has promised me his displeasure if I were to cause you dissatisfaction, I should begin with the small things, and depend on your interest.” He elegantly caught up his sleeve, lifted the teapot; not as perfectly as some girls in the entertainment houses, and not in as polished a manner as Marquis Yan – but Changsu’s gaze was unwittingly caught by his wrist, his fingers, the spiral stream of water. After all, the prince pouring tea for one who was not even his advisor any longer – this was a rarity he had to take some pleasure in.

“May one inquire what steps would be taken if the crown prince did not apply such stern restrictions?” Changsu couldn’t hold himself back from a light jab.

Prince Yu unhurriedly put the teapot back on the coals, slowly turned his head and smiled, looking Changsu in the eyes.

Shivers ran down his spine – that smile, promising nothing in particular, was, nonetheless, full of greedy anticipation; but the prince almost immediately doused it, lowering his lashes.

“In truth, His Highness has nothing to do with it. I have no wish to bring you even the smallest discomfort, Master Su. For the present, my task is to make my company pleasant to you.”

“Pleasant enough that I, myself, would wish to be in that company for longer.” Changsu nodded understandingly. “Well, as an advisor, one can only approve of that tactic. But it accounts for a long, a very long development. Your Highness risks getting bored.”

The prince’s little chuckle seemed not overly cheerful.

“I have much time now, Master Su. And I could lay all this time at your feet, but you would not take such a gift. And so, I will amuse myself, thinking of methods with which I could attract ad hold your attention.”

“Your Highness Prince Yu is uncommonly honest. Quite an odd thing in such a matter.”

“I doubt that I am in a condition to hide something from you, or, more than that, lie to you,” the prince spread his hands with theatrical helplessness, “Better not even to try. I want your trust – and I know no other way to achieve it. Only honesty.”

Changsu hesitated, making up his mind.

“I must warn you, that also may not be the way to success.”

“I know,” Prince Yu answered. “But you will allow me to try, won’t you?”

***

Arrival in the Eastern Palace had its benefits: his mother resided nearby, and all matters were close at hand. However the impossibility of going down into the underground tunnel at any moment, and tugging the bell-string, began to feel like a vexing inconvenience, even a deplorable one. Jingyan caught himself several times, wishing to spend time in conversation with Master Su instead of rest. But now, just the trip to visit Master Su would take half a watch’s time – and the open appearance of the crown prince to the house of an invited dignitary would attract unnecessary attention, to say nothing of repeated visits.

A couple of times, he did end up finding ways to visit the advisor, dropping in on the emptied residence between matters, on the way from one part of the city to another – from the fallout of the flood, to that of the fires. But that could not continue for long, and Master Su already expressed the intention to destroy the underground tunnel, now that it served no purpose. Jingyan wanted to object, but understand Master Su’s reasoning: now that there was no-one in the residence, who knew who could accidentally stumble upon the tunnel and turn that discovery to evil! And when the estate was turned over to someone else, or the Court Management put it up for sale…

In a word, the fate of the underground tunnel was predetermined. Jingyan lost yet another opportunity to be a person, rather than a crown prince, for a little longer. And he simply missed those measured movements, steady voice, and gentle incline of the head when Master Su listened to him, or was explaining something himself. It was almost a little awkward: after the Spring Hunt, when Jingyan truly came to believe that Mei Changsu was Lin Shu for a few hours – he should have been torn with disappointment or perhaps even antipathy. However, in action, his lost hope gave way to other feelings entirely: Mei Changsu became dear to Jingyan, just as himself. A pity that he only understood it after the palace’s rules had torn almost all of the threads connecting them.

Thankfully, he had no time to succumb to boredom: his Imperial Father, either testing his heir, or simply glad at the possibility to make his own life easier, gave him every new task. Simultaneously –in the name of preserving that notorious balance, it was to be supposed – he involved Prince Yu in political matters more and more; who, having received his rank of qinwang back with all seven pearls, and finding himself cast in the shining light of the heroic empress, looked like a serious rival to his younger brother.

Jingyan wanted to hope that he only looked like he was.

Brother Yu had won their one serious quarrel on the matter of the lumber distribution, but won it quite particularly: he organized a more intricate scheme, wherein the city administration hired those wanting to work unloading the ships, clearing out of the districts, et cetera – and those then were paid in their choice of money or building materials. Simultaneously, the influx of wood being floated down the river increased, and it became cheaper. Jingyan suspected a certain ruse in this matter and turned out to be correct: Jinghuan himself had explained when they’d met, that he had pulled some of his remaining strings and ordered some people in the provinces to increase their dispatches.

To Jingyan’s bewilderment of: ‘how did the residents of these provinces fare, being left without lumber?’ Jinghuan shrugged. It was summer, said he, and no-one was in great need of firewood, and those few who needed building supplies could wait, or pay the woodcutters extra. Or, if the local administrators had brains, they would hire more people for logging. In any case, the majority of those involved in this plan would turn out, if not a profit, then at least no worse off.

“What prevented you from doing things like this, before?” Jingyan blurted out in a fit of temper. They were meeting in a gallery, empty by evening, and could allow themselves to speak openly.

“But why?” his brother answered, unperturbed – and Jingyan, suffering, wanted either to beat his head against a column, or give Jinghuan a good punch.

Seeing him openly angry, yet at a loss, Jinghuan shook his head and said, very quietly:

“Brother Qi took care of the people according to all the rules, and what became of him? You did what you could for the army, and where did you end up for a decade? Father never wanted us to be virtuous and righteous rulers, little brother. He demanded it, but didn’t want it.”

Jingyan opened his mouth and realized that he didn’t know what to answer. He had always thought that greed and competition with one another had ruled the actions of his Fourth and Fifth Brothers, but… Fear? That had never occurred to him.

“And now?” he asked after a short silence. “Now, elder brother is doing the right thing…”

Jinghuan smirked and gave a shrug, as if to say: guess for yourself. He bowed and went his separate way, leaving Jingyan asking himself in disbelief: was all this because Jinghuan on his side now, or was this the aspiration of his own heart in the absence of an apparent threat from the emperor, or something else entirely…?

He had no answer.

And on the next day, the emperor summoned them both – and Jingyan’s sharpened perception told him that this summons meant nothing good.

“The Department of Punishment, together with the War Department have finished the preliminary investigation into Jingxuan’s rebellion,” the emperor announced with such a sour look that it was immediately clear that he was squeamish holding the report even with his very fingertips. “It’s as full of holes as a lotus root. I wish to know exactly how it was organized! And who is guilty of Consort Yue’s murder! And who suggested to Jingxuan that he should take such drastic action – because he wouldn’t have had the brains for it himself! Jinghuan, you’ll take care of this matter.”

Jingyan caught a glance of his brother, white as a sheet, and that was enough for him to blurt out, unthinking:

“Imperial Father! One begs you to reconsider! Everyone knows that these past years, Prince Xian and Prince Yu were enemies. If the matter of the rebellion is assigned to Brother Yu, and new details are brought to light, emphasizing Jingxuan’s guilt, people will have reason to say that the investigation is unfair, and Prince Yu is getting back at a wounded enemy!”

The emperor only had time to frown and sit up, when Jinghuan spoke – his voice dull, yet certain.

“I am grateful, Brother Crown Prince, for your worry over my reputation. But it is an empty worry. The emperor knows that our former rivalry had finished, and since then I have not and do not have any reason to additionally harm Jingxuan in some way. And the judgements among those who are uninformed in all circumstances should not trouble a man tasked with the matter of justice.”

Jingyan didn’t know whether to believe his own ears. He remembered their conversation on Jiu’an Mountain perfectly well and was certain that his brother would be only happy if he was freed from the duty of overseeing this matter, and even now, he looked nearly ready to faint… But, on the other hand, to give away this assignment too easily would mean that Prince Yu would attract the emperor’s attention to his clear unwillingness to do it.

“Well, well,” the emperor waved his hand, “Calm down, both of you. Come to think of it, Jingyan is right… But I have already assigned him many things. Shall I appoint Jingting? He didn’t make a bad show of it, last time. What do you think?”

The crown prince was supposed to answer first, and Jingyan cast a glance at his brother, trying to understand what could possibly be happening. Yet now, when there were two of them in the hall, discounting the guards and Gao Zhan, even exchanging a look that their father would not notice was entirely impossible. Jingyan answered carefully:

“Since military matters are deeply entrenched in this matter, Brother Ning will need a helper out of those who are well experienced in the army’s affairs.”

The emperor vexedly smacked the report against the table.

“I intended to assign this matter to Jinghuan, and you would’ve helped him from the military angle. I had hoped to see whether you were capable of being good brothers and operating together! But now I see that the occasion was unfortunately chosen. Fine! Advise me, who should be chosen as helper.”

And here, Jingyan understood that he was in a dead-end. Zhanying would be the best option, but Jingyan didn’t even want to think about letting his lieutenant go for an indefinite time. Officers of other armies? He did not know them well. Ministers of the War Department? Indolence ruled among them – the military needed change like it needed air – but according to Mei Changsu’s insistent counsel, Jingyan didn’t even hint at an audit. He shouldn’t concern the emperor with a prince-general’s heightened attention to that sphere of power.

“If Imperial Father will allow…” Jinghuan stepped in, “It cannot be discounted that anyone among the high-ranking military personnel could have been a secret accomplice to the rebellion. And if such a person was accidentally appointed as a helper, he would only tangle the investigation.”

The emperor’s heavy sigh already seemed like a growl.

“Do you have a suggestion?!”

“Your son dares recommend summoning Officer Xia Dong back to duty, Imperial Father.”

Jingyan nearly bit his tongue. Well! Xia Dong had been pardoned by the emperor in light of her actions being motivated by filial piety. She had done nothing truly terrible, though nonetheless she still remained imprisoned, waiting for her fate to be decided. As well as the fate of the Xuanjing Bureau, which had been closed, but not disbanded. It was not mentioned by anyone in silent agreement, since the thought of Xia Jiang’s betrayal drove the emperor into a rage. But Jinghuan didn’t say anything about the Bureau…

“Xia Dong!” the emperor uttered slowly, with some surprise. “I’d forgotten about her. Jingyan! What do you think?”

“I think Brother Yu’s idea is a good one,” Jingyan said, painstakingly masking relief with thoughtfulness. “Officer Xia is familiar with army matters, she has happened to investigate crimes within military departments – but neither could she have, in any way, been involved in the rebellion, nor has she any personal interests in the Jingli Army. One supposes she could be permitted to redeem her mistakes by serving the realm.”

“Well, at least today your quarrels have given good results,” the emperor concluded. “We shall see what fruits this will bear. You can go now. Gao Zhan, summon Prince Ning, and ready an edict regarding Xia Dong.”

The princes bowed and left the hall, while the old eunuch consulted with the emperor.

Jingyan really wanted to exchange a few words with Jinghuan, but this was a time when the palace was full of people – officials and eunuchs scurried about, dozens of curious gazes followed the crown prince, and some already sped up their steps, wishing to greet him or appeal to him on some matter. Jinghuan had managed to gather himself and looked as he always did – in all his haughtiness somewhat resembling a hunting-hawk looking down from its perch on someone’s glove. His half-lidded gaze seemed slightly sleepy, yet attentive and unblinking.

“Can Brother Crown Prince yet be congratulated on a successful accommodation in the Eastern Palace?” he asked ceremoniously, distracting Jingyan from the thought that hawk-hunting was not particularly popular in the current court.

“Yes,” Jingyan said absentmindedly, and suddenly caught himself. “Yes, and Fifth Brother has a standing invitation. All the more that Imperial Father has expressed quite a definitive wish.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw as the nearby courtiers’ ears perked up. Go on, listen, and try to figure out what the emperor could have said, that the crown prince calls the Fifth to visit!

“Imperial Father’s wishes are law – and the crown prince’s invitations are not to be scorned. Brother Crown prince wishes me to call immediately?”

‘Is that even allowed?!’ Jingyan almost asked aloud, but came to his senses in time. No, it actually was not allowed – a time and date needed to be set, to give the opportunity for the other party to get ready to pay the call, and to get ready himself. However, the crown prince had a lawful opportunity to flout the rules, simultaneously showing the scope of his own power and demanding that one of a lower rank, even by one step, act at a disadvantage.

An excellent minor vengeance.

Or, an excellent method of talking one on one right now.

“If no urgent matters await Fifth Brother’s attention, I will willingly offer the Eastern Palace’s hospitality.”

“One is ready to follow where the Crown Prince leads.” Jinghuan bowed again, hiding a satisfied smirk behind his sleeves.

They came in silence to the pavilion where Jingyan intended to receive guests in the summer – Jinghuan being the first. The guards remained within five steps, and the courtiers did not risk addressing him with questions, fearing to interrupt as they saw Prince Yu beside him.

Entering, Jinghuan froze, looking around the pavilion, but soon nodded. He chuckled.

“I see, in your hands, the Eastern Palace has lost most of its luster.”

Jingyan had, indeed, ordered the mannerish and ornate furniture, knick-knacks and vases to be removed from his sight. They were valuable, but irritating in such quantities; more than that, they inspired unpleasant thoughts about the former owner of those riches.

“Elder brother has often been here before?”

“Often? No. Will Brother Crown Prince allow this guest to sit?”

“Not only will I allow it, but I urgently ask to leave rank at the doorstep, when we are alone,” Jingyan said intently. “If I have to observe every minor rule even at home, even with my closet kin – I shall go mad, not even having gotten to my goal.”

Jinghuan lowered himself down onto the step leading up to the dais where the lordly seat stood: all alike to the emperor’s, only there were three steps, not five – and no carven dragons, twisting along the wooden screen at its back.

“You will never be alone again, little brother. Unless you manage to run away from everyone for an hour or two, and remain happy until you’re found.”

Jingyan, thinking of sitting on that same step, hesitated and stepped up onto the dais to sit in the chair. If Fifth Brother considered it necessary to uphold the appearance of propriety – so be it.

“Don’t frighten me, elder brother. Just tell me: was I wrong today, asking the emperor not to assign you to supervise the case of the rebellion? Did you want to take it on? If that’s the case, then forgive me. It seemed…”

“You were right. And my gratitude is boundless. But I will argue with you before the emperor on any point, even the most minor. Get used to it.”

“I got used to it last year,” Jingyan grimaces, “But does it have to be any point?”

“If I find something to say, without looking like a total fool. You know I don’t do it with the intention to anger you.”

“Should I call for tea?” Jingyan asked after a short pause. At his insistence, the pavilion was made light and comfortable (though there was something of a general’s tent in its comfort) and he could simply snap his fingers for servants to appear. In some way, it seemed like magic, the way he imagined in his childhood, and now he wanted to share this magic with his brother, now that it had turned out that he invited him first.

“You don’t drink tea.”

“I did want to ask how you knew that.”

“Such things must be known of one’s friends and enemies, little brother.” Jinghuan shrugged. “If you have not yet begun to compile such observations, then you’d better start soon. Right now you have experienced palace servants at your disposal – they notice much.”

‘I don’t want to,’ Jingyan thought helplessly, yet again. He was ready to toil for the welfare of the realm: consolidate figures, talk with people, make decisions, give orders, and answer for the executions of those orders – the doing of which would improve lives. But he was not at all ready for these knife-edged subtleties, when he had to remember who liked or didn’t like what…. Or – who, so that he could influence people in those ways. The necessity was explained to him by his mother, by Master Su, and now even Jinghuan. Even instructor Li Chun spoke of this, long ago. Yet still, his chest constricted as if from shortness of breath, when he thought about how many details from others’ lives he had to pick up on and remember.

“Judging by your expression, you’d better call for wine.”

Jingyan sighed.

“I’ll just get drunk.”

“Then lemon water. And don’t worry, now you can demand even qilin milk: nobody knows your tastes here, and everyone is ready to run anywhere and get whatever you want, at your very first word.”

“And, after, will they stop being ready?” Jingyan wondered.

He, the son of a fourth-rank concubine, was far more used to running and getting things for himself in his childhood – or for mother, or for Xiao Shu – and later he didn’t live in the Forbidden City and certain customs of the main palaces would constantly leave him at a loss.

“After, they’ll gain experience, become used to your habits, and will panic if you suddenly change them for no reason.” Jinghuan smiled and rubbed his temple with his fingertips. “But, you know, I really think you’d better start the habit of drinking tea. It’s convenient if you don’t know what to do with your hands, and it’s always a topic for conversation.”

“You don’t know what to do with your hands now, or does your head hurt?” Jingyan asked, and snapped his fingers anyway.

He beckoned the servant closer and gave her instructions in an undertone: he still wanted the magic, and he thought he’d decided on what it should be.

Jinghuan watched him with ironic curiosity: he had grown up in Zhenyang Palace, after all, and was likely not refused anything that the prim and proper empress could allow. It would be hard to surprise him with anything, but Jingyan didn’t want surprise – just to make himself, and maybe Jinghuan, happy.

The lemon water, indeed a quite appropriate beverage for the summertime, was brought nearly immediately, and that same first servant came back in a few minutes, a little out of breath, carrying not one, as Jingyan had expected, but two lacquered boxes.

“Noble Consort Jing sends sweets for the crown prince and Prince Yu, with wishes of prosperity!” she said in a low voice.

Jingyan took the box, offered to him with a bow, and immediately stuck his nose in: what had mother put in today? For a few seconds, he lost sight of his brother, and, raising his head from the box, was quite astounded, realizing that Jinghuan sat with a cookie in hand, watching him with a steady, unblinking gaze.

“Elder brother?” he called out carefully, beginning to fear that Jinghuan, perhaps, the same as Xiao Shu could not handle nuts, or cardamom, or something else that mother put in the cookies, and now suspected Jingyan in a poisoning attempt. “Elder brother, what…”

“This is for me?” Jinghuan interrupted, not tearing his eyes away from the sweet. “Really?”

“Of course, didn’t you hear me…?”

Jinghuan carefully put the cookie back into the box and raised his head – his face was full of an indescribable expression, a mixture of disbelief, outrage, and joy.

“You… Asked your honored mother…”

“Elder brother, I just sent to ask whether she had any leftover cookies from yesterday so I could treat you. I didn’t… You… Is something the matter?”

“No. No… Everything is fine. With your permission, little brother, I’ll take this with me?”

Jingyan felt that the ‘magic’ he’d intended had succeeded, but not at all in the manner that he had planned.

“It’s for you, so do as you want. Only… You, yourself, said that I should gather observations about people. Do me a favor, tell me, why did mother’s sweets agitate you so?”

It seemed to him for an instant that Jinghuan guarded himself against him, had slammed the shutters, like a mollusk. But no: he shook himself, and relaxed with a visible effort…

“If you laugh, I’ll pour horned beetles down your collar.”

That was so much something from their childhood – that distant time, clouded by nothing, that same time that had originated the game of ‘yes – no’ – that Jingyan couldn’t resist and slid out of his chair to sit on the steps, level with his brother.

“I won’t. I promise.”

Jinghuan nodded, gathering either his words or his thoughts.

“You know that Imperial Mother never was favorably disposed to your honored mother. What irked her, I won’t take it upon myself to say, but because of that, I… I wasn’t forbidden to play with you only because Lin Shu was always beside you, and he was adored by the emperor, and she had to… Somehow make it look as though we got along.” He grimaced. “I was far too little then, for all these deep currents, I was offended and angry at all this, and it seemed like the two of you were too… Either way, you constantly had those cookies with you, the scent permeated half the palace – but asking for it would have been shameful, and you never offered. But once, your mother came out, herself, and gave everyone a cookie. To me, as well.

He quieted, sighed deeply, and touched his temple again, not noticing.

“It seemed to me then, that there was nothing more delicious in the world. But that was only once, and after… I couldn’t pester you for cookies! I went to the empress and asked: why couldn’t she just order Concubine Jing to have cookies delivered to Zhenyang Palace? And she answered… I, of course didn’t understand it then. I remembered, but didn’t understand. She said that she didn’t want to order it done, because the cookies were delicious when they were made with love, but if a person were to be forced, then they wouldn’t turn out as well. And she didn’t wish to ask, either, because she didn’t want to owe her anything.”

“The empress… Is possessed of wisdom.”

“As you understand, it was all empty noise to me back then. I only understood that I would have none, and even Imperial Mother could do nothing about it.” Jinghuan’s lips twisted in a bitter smirk. “A great sorrow, right? It remained with me all those years that I lived in the inner palace, because there was nowhere to hide from that scent. And I was so angry at all of you because of it. Stupid, so stupid. And now… So much time has passed, and I’ve long ceased caring for sweets… And now this. Just like that. Without requests or orders,” his hand flew to his temple again, and Jingyan noticed that his brother’s fingers shook badly, “Like thirty years hadn’t passed.”

Jingyan didn’t know what to say to that. Maybe had they both been drunk to the point of stupefaction, as they had been on Jiu’an Mountain, he would have given into the impulse in his heart: taken him by the hand, embraced him, said something meaningless but comforting.

But he had refused wine, and he had no excuse for such a blatant familiarity. So Jingyan only offered:

“Should I ask Mother to brew her headache concoction?”

“No need.” Jinghuan shook his head. “Will Brother Crown Prince allow me to retire? I’m afraid that I am not fit for serious matters, nor for light conversation. And, if you wouldn’t mind… Convey my deepest gratitude to your honored mother.”

“I will,” Jingyan promised.

In a few minutes he watched his brother’s retreating back – he walked with an exaggeratedly even pace, carefully holding the box of cookies to himself – and thought about what minutiae could cause people to hate one another at times. And also, that he absolutely needed to tell this story to his mother.

***

The emperor had ordered the marriage of the crown prince.

For some reason, this inspired no response in Jingyan’s soul. Of course, Mother and the empress would choose a young woman who redeemed herself well in all things: of good birth, intelligent, well-mannered, comely. His mother would, very likely, make sure that the woman would be able to hold a conversation with a prince-general.

His late wife was also a good girl. In truth, he barely remembered her – they had not yet even lived two months together, and he had not been in the capital when she had died from some unknown illness…

Now, the thought of marriage was likely only to frustrate him: he’d have to waste time on that too. Of course, a wife should be shown attention – not only visited on the prescribed nights, but also sometimes just to have a chat! Have a chat! He couldn’t even cut out a free evening to have a chat with Master Su, and now a wife?!

Jingyan thought that, and understood two things at once: first of all, he had to come to terms with the fact that he could not change everything and put everything aside for a visit to the advisor – Brother Yu was right, having had more experience in courtly custom – especially that the emperor explicitly advised not to neglect the matter. And second of all (and even here Brother Yu had managed to put his word in!) that the definition of Master Su as an ‘elder sister’ had turned out to be unexpectedly apt. Indeed: not a friend – Jingyan would not know how to be a friend to such a man; his definition of friendship included joint actions, whether battle or celebratory amusements, and a spiritual closeness, when one can understand the other from half a word or a short glance – but Master Su was all calm and riddles, like the seemingly still waters of a river enclosed by rocky shores. What sort of joint actions could there be, when they could not ride out together, and what understanding could there be when the very foundations of what was due and what was not had to be compared! But ‘elder sister’ fit like a sword to a scabbard: a creature from another world, perhaps not from the inner palace, but from places where Prince Jing had no access to – the land of the Jianghu, shadows and rumors, strange ways and customs. A man whose hand had no strength, yet had more strength in his word than an army. A man who had to be taken care of as a fragile and powerless person, but who also had power capable of laying low the mightiest.

Jingyan chuckled, thinking that if – still if! – he became emperor, he would want his empress to be such.

The thought, of course, playfully ran away with him, throwing an image of Master Su in luxurious silvery-blue robes in the magnificent head-dress of the mistress of Zhenyang Palace.

Jingyan spluttered and ordered his imagination to shut it. Imagining Master Su as a lady from the harem made him both ill at ease and offended. And of his own harem – just shameful and inappropriate.

However, as it turned out, his accumulated exhaustion relaxed the hand of his reason, holding the reins to his imagination, for as soon as he distracted himself from work, then more and more obscene images slid through his mind. For instance, Brother Yu, having asked permission to pay suit to Master Su – how would he even do it? Master Su was an extremely complicated man, but even Brother Yu wasn’t born yesterday and probably succeeded far more in the delicate scholarship of catching hearts than Jingyan in his many years of wandering from one distant garrison to another. What was Fifth Brother armed with? Poetry, perfumes, elegant conversation, admiration… What could now bloom from that which was customary to admire? Irises? Irises were the symbol of military prowess and masculine strength, in general…

At that, Jingyan realized that his cheeks were burning, and Zhanying, who stood silently by, was giving him a sideways look of no small curiosity. Why would the crown prince be blushing so intensely, while reading the summary report of the current state of affairs in the capital?

“Enough for today,” Jingyan said, and stood with determination. “I have to distract myself at least sometimes. Zhanying, I intend to spend an hour… No, two – in my quarters, and then visit Master Su in the evening.”

“Yes, my prince,” Zhanying answered shortly, and did not allow any unseemly expression to reach his face. As Jingyan had heard, many supposed that General Lie was like a statue of the Buddha, forever frozen with a mysterious non-smile on his lips. Jingyan knew perfectly well how expressive his lieutenant’s face could really be – so he sighed in relief and returned to his quarters.

His poor concubine would soon forget what her husband looked like. He should remind her. Especially before the advancing wedding.

…Despite what Jingyan had thought, he was unable to visit Master Su that evening: when he had intended to order a ride out – fully rested, relaxed, and in an excellent mood – a eunuch with a note from Prince Ning ran in.

Jingting asked for a meeting – in any one of the residences or gardens to the crown prince’s taste. Jingyan felt his good mood melt away like the first snow: as long as he could remember he had always had a warm relationship with his Third Brother, though in his poor health, he could not keep company in any amusements other than weiqi, nor could be an equal conversation partner due to his age. Jingting was always calm, soft, friendly – and now he bowed from the waist, called him ‘Brother Crown Prince’ and was afraid of saying too much?! If the forced deference of his Fifth Brother gave rise only to a shade of malicious pleasure in his soul – then the same treatment from the Third gave rise only to bitterness.

“Give the word that I will visit Prince Ning at his residence in an hour from now.”

Prince Ning’s estate was positioned right next to the Forbidden City, but Jingyan did not want to cause the residents of the house any distress from a sudden visit by the crown prince. One watch’s time was quite exactly the time for people to be ready and be sure that they had not allowed for any vexing blunders.

Had Prince Xian ever been in that house? Doubtful… Quite likely, they had never happened to host the crown prince – or even any of the other princes…. Other then Jingyu, many years ago… Since then, if the staff had not changed, they would hardly remember well how to behave and what to do.

Perhaps he ought to invite Jingting to his residence. Though… That was almost the same as summoning Master Su to the palace: allowable and even prescribed by custom, but unmerciful to a person whose health could betray him at any moment.

At that moment, Jingyan suddenly had an idea. Did Prince Yu not have his own entertainment house?! Though Hongxiu Zhao did not belong to him, it was a place that Jinghuan could invite people to at any moment that he wished to speak without extra ceremony. Why should he, the crown prince, not have a similar establishment? And why not… Why could he not use the Jing Residency for that purpose? No, to make a willow-house of a prince’s manor was, of course, inappropriate, but… Were there not houses for poets’ gatherings, for instance? Or… Or… Here, his imagination betrayed him, but in this question, he at least understood who to turn to for advice.

He had not spoken with his uncle, the great Prince Ji for a long, long time.

As he expected, Prince Ning’s manor received the crown prince with lit fires, fuss, and excessive obsequiousness. Jingting himself afforded himself to meet his brother not at the gates, but at the doorstep, which was a break with tradition, but seniority gave the Third Prince some small leeway.

“Third Brother, I beg you, no need for all this courtly dance,” was the first thing Jingyan said, when they had exchanged greetings. “More than anything, I wish that nothing would change between us.”

“I am glad to hear it,” Jingting answered, “But I would like to follow the rules, at least the first time, Brother Crown Prince. There are too many gazes turned your way. Wait for half a year, a year maybe, and people should get used to it, and stop picking up on your every gesture. And at the same time, notice how you treat others and how you allow yourself to be treated.”

Jingyan had nothing left to him but to agree. However sad it was to realize it, both Jingting and Jinghuan were right with their greater experience of life at court. The proprieties must be observed.

Pretense, so much pretense…

Luckily, Jingting did not torture his younger brother with a ceremonious conversation during their meal. In the gazebo in the garden, Xia Dong awaited them.

“Officer Xia, I am glad to see you free and on duty,” Jingyan greeted her sincerely, lifting her from her bow. “But, I see that something unusual must have happened, since Brother Ning required my presence?”

“Officer Xia, please report your problem to the crown prince,” Jingting sighed, clearly uneasy.

Xia Dong bowed again: she had grown thin and gaunt, but she still had that former dark fire in her eyes that had always distinguished her, when she was on the trail of a criminal.

“Reporting to the crown prince. Having received the order of the emperor and reviewed the documents, I visited Xiao Jingxuan, Prince Xian, in his imprisonment. However, it seems that there is no hope of getting any evidence out of him any more. Not being a healer, I cannot claim full surety, but every sign I saw spoke to the fact that Prince Xian has gone mad.”

Jingyan gasped involunatarily.

“How?!”

Thankfully, Xia Dong understood him correctly.

“He laughs. Mutters nonsense, at times doesn’t understand where he is, at times begins to threaten that his mother is favored by the emperor, and the emperor will punish everyone… Most importantly – he laughs. Your Highness has probably heard such laughter.”

Jingyan could only nod. Yes, he had heard the laughter of the mad more than once. After battle, anything could happen to people. Especially young soldiers. And more often – with the dwellers of villages that had been struck by enemy detachments.

But Jingxuan… Had his mind really not been able to bear the fear and humiliation? Was he truly unable to hold what awaited him in his consciousness?

“That is regrettable news,” Jingyan finally uttered. “Do I understand correctly that Brother Ning has not yet reported this to the emperor, but has seen it needful to inform me? Or has it turned out that the emperor has not been informed by Cai Quan or someone else from the Ministry of Punishment?”

Jingting shook his head and shuddered, and Jingyan unwittingly looked for a fur cloak, and only afterwards realized that he was not in the Su Residence. Third Brother’s illness did not present itself with chills, he knew that for certain.. He really did have to visit Master Su.

“When Imperial Father assigned me this matter, he especially informed me that he did not wish to hear anything of Jingxuan until all circumstances were revealed. I thought that he would altogether prefer to forget that he has a fourth son. And I… I am not experienced in such matters, Brother Crown Prince, I need to give orders to Officer Xia, but I don’t know what direction to look in. Civil crimes are one thing – but when the matter concerns a military rebellion, and the main witness loses his mind… I understand that you are busy, but give me counsel, Seventh Brother, I beg you.”

Jingyan rubbed the bridge of his nose. He understood Prince Ning’s difficulty very well.

“Third Brother, tell me… Was the emperor entirely disinterested in the resolution of this matter, or was indifferent to Jingxuan, personally?”

“More than anything, he wishes to know who killed Consort Yue, and why,” Jingting answered immediately. “And whether she was guilty of anything, or became the victim of a ruse, or even kidnapping.”

“The emperor, it seems, wishes acquittal of Consort Yue,” Xia Dong remarked quietly, keeping a respectful posture. “However, from what I understood of the case file, no-one has yet dared to question the empress. Who but her would know what, exactly, went on in the palace during those days? But even the eunuchs were not questioned.”

“The emperor’s permission is needed for conversation with the empress, and nobody in Cai Quan’s department risked turning to him. Brother Ning, ask for permission… But don’t ask the questions yourself,” it suddenly dawned on Jingyan. “Mistress Xia has entirely sufficient status to enter the inner palace,” he nodded respectfully at Xia Dong, “And if you are present as the one in charge of this matter, and Mistress Xia is the one to ask the questions, it should be courteous enough. If the empress remains satisfied, then she will give permission, herself, for questioning of the eunuchs and servants of the inner palace.”

“Only, it all has to be arranged so that she would agree to be questioned! The emperor will not order her – the empress’s star has risen, now… He will only allow it, but the decision will be hers.” Jingting’s face became entirely unhappy. “She simply cannot stand me…”

Xia Dong’s shoulders visibly sank, and Jingyan have a deep sigh and said:

“I’ll talk with Fifth Brother. After all, it was his idea to call Mistress Xia to the investigation. I hope he will not refuse to convince his Imperial Mother to co-operate with the case. Though she may not stand you and your honored mother, but she hated Consort Yue far more.”

“I owe my release to Prince Yu?!” Xia Dong’s eyes and lips became round. “How… Unexpected. Should I express my gratitude to him…?”

“I don’t think so,” Jingyan objected, “He would let you know if he wanted gratitude immediately. Perhaps you will yet have an opportunity to pay him back, Officer Xia.”

She nodded thoughtfully, deep in reflection.

…Thus it turned out that instead of a visit to Master Su, Jingyan was headed to the Yu Residence. He sent one of his guardsmen ahead to find out whether the Fifth Prince was home, and whether he would agree to host a guest – and set his horse off at an unhurried pace, trying to think of what to say to Jinghuan.

Especially, whether or not to tell him about Fourth Brother’s madness.

The hour was not to late as to expect that the master of the house was ready to retire to bed, though the servants led Jingyan through to the inner quarters, bowing, and only there he was met by Jinghuan.

“You could have refused to host me, today,” Jingyan made an effort in order not to look away in embarrassment: Jinghuan’s hair was unadorned, in a light robe without decoration, only well that he at least had shoes on.

“Oh, but of course. The crown prince rushes about to his elder brothers’ houses like a simple messenger, and is turned away from the gates. Little brother, can you not observe propriety, even a little? What happened? You are grim, but not enraged.”

“It is not urgent, not very important, but yes, something happened, and I want to ask for your help.”

Jingyan surprised himself with how easily those words flew from his lips. He had not intended to ask for himself, and to Jinghuan, this matter did not carry any loss, nor any gain – however even a month ago it would have been frightening even to think of saying out loud, ‘I’m asking for your help…’

“Sit. Tell me. Water, wine?”

“Wine,” Jingyan chose, after a short hesitation. “Only, let’s not be overzealous, elder brother – I have ridden in, and would hope to leave the same way.”

Jinghuan laughed and waved to invisible servants.

“The lightest that can be found in all of Great Liang. Has Brother Ning fed you, or should I take care of that?”

“Have mercy, I am not a child. Today was a regular day, I managed to both eat and rest. And soon, the crown princess-consort will be the one looking after that…” He managed to catch himself in the motion at the start, and did not grimace.

“Oh, I completely forgot about the necessary ceremonies. The emperor’s goodwill is priceless – I congratulate you, Brother Crown Prince.” Jinghuan inclined his head, and his combed-out, oiled hair slipped down like dark snakes. “Is it known, yet, which of the houses has been given the honor to wed their daughter to the heir to the throne?”

Jingyan shook his head. As if entranced, his eyes followed the shine in his brother’s thick hair, and thought, for some reason, not at all of what he should. For instance, when Master Su received Prince Yu in his house, did he allow himself loose hair with a knot at the base of his neck instead of a strict style, with a pin…?

“Mother will inform me when the empress and herself come to an agreement concerning my future spouse, and I don’t want to guess until then.” He forced himself to turn his gaze to the inlaid table. The design was complicated and made one think, which turned out to be useful.

“Imperial Mother is still in ill health,” Jinghuan remarked quietly. “I think she will simply approve of the young woman Noble Consort Jing chooses.”

Catching the slight worry in his brother’s voice, Jingyan raised his head. He wanted to ask again: maybe he should ask his mother anyway…? But he met Jinghuan’s gaze and they both were silent. No words were needed. They knew their mothers would not wish it.

Servants brought wine and snacks, quickly and almost silently put out the dishes, and disappeared.

The wine was truly very weak – it left a gentle sweetness on the lips, and a distinctive but entirely unfamiliar aroma. Jingyan decided to ask what this drink was later, but after the first cup, Fifth Brother inquisitively inclined his head, inviting him to start business, and everything except the matter at hand was immediately forgotten.

He decided to be silent on the matter of Fourth Brother’s madness, but it was far easier to decide than to do. Hearing of the necessity to question the empress and servants of the inner palace, Jinghuan immediately responded:

“And why is that? Is Fourth Brother not in a state to explain what happened, himself? If Imperial Father wishes to acquit Consort Yue, in no way can we depend on Imperial Mother’s testimony – the opposite, the appearance should be kept up that nobody even thought of doing so.”

“Fifth Brother!” Jingyan gestured too suddenly, the wine spilled from his cup onto his sleeve, and the air filled with a floral fragrance. “What are you saying?! It would be a distortion of the investigation to suit the wishes of the emperor!”

Jinghuan looked at him with a certain pity.

“Little brother, the investigation itself is proceeding according to the emperor’s wishes. He could have been satisfied with the very first report Cai Quan’s people gave him. The emperor wants a definitive result. Do you intend to go against his will?”

“But this is a mockery of justice, elder brother!” Jingyan tried to calm his shortness of breath. Once more, he was gripped by anger at his Fifth Brother, who trampled on the very foundations of a fair order to the world. How could an intelligent, educated man bear judgement and act in such a way?!

“Yan-er,” Jinghuan called, and from his sudden (and sober!) affection, Jingyan’s throat seized. “What justice do you need? Consort Yue was slain and abandoned as food for beasts. Xu Anmo has been buried at the edge of the forest, and in pieces, it seems. Father will not let Brother Xian live, unless he is suddenly illuminated by Western righteousness in the name of the Buddha. Even if it were announced that Consort Yue suffered innocently, though it may not be true… Tell me, to whom will an injustice have been done?”

The question was a difficult one, and Jingyan should have thought on it, but he sat as though nailed in place by that little ‘Yan-er.’ That had happened on Jiu’an mountain too, but much of what had been said then should be forgotten, for when wine spoke instead of a person, it could blab any nonsense. But now they were not drunk. Not at all.

“But, elder brother, if you didn’t want for the investigation to go as it should, why did you remind Imperial Father about Xia Dong?”

“The officers of the Xuanjing Bureau have no equal in ability to lead an investigation.” Jinghuan shrugged with slight perplexity. “I know from experience that the Department of Punishments always misses something. The Dragon Seal was not born to Great Liang in this generation. I supposed that Mistress Xia would be able to interrogate Fourth Brother well enough that there would be no further need for questioning. If he headed the rebellion, how could he not know all its details? He’s a fool, but not a madman.”

Jingyan felt his fingers go cold, and hid them in his sleeves.

“What? Did I say something wrong?”

“You said everything right,” Jingyan admitted unwillingly. “Mistress Xia did go see Fourth Brother, but she did not manage to get any answers from him. She says that he… That he has gone mad.”

“What…?”

Jinghuan set his cup down on the table as though it was made from cobwebs and morning dew: ever so slowly, carefully and smoothly.

“Repeat it, little brother. She said…?”

“That Brother Xian has gone mad,” Jingyan repeated obediently, rooted to the spot and watching as paleness flooded his brother’s sharpened face, defining the dark hollows of his eyes.

“You were not there?”

“No. I take Xia Dong at her word. You do know, she is…”

“The best, yes. But I want… To be sure.” He made as if to stand, but immediately fell back. “Night has already… Tomorrow.”

“I beg you, elder brother,” Jingyan said, feeling as though he was throwing himself into a stinking bog of his own free will, “Convince the empress to answer the questions. If she doesn’t agree, Xia Dong will have to torture Fourth Brother, trying to get answers from his dimmed reason. Brother Ning and Mistress Xia will not cause the empress extra discomfort, you do know that – they are respectful and understand when to stop. Please…” his lips moved, but he still could not force himself to utter, like an answering call to a secret word: ‘Huan-ge.’ He wanted to, and couldn’t. Not when he was directly using his brother’s grief as a method of controlling him.

“I will,” Jinghuan answered lifelessly.

On the way home, Jingyan could think only of properly washing his mouth out with aromatic water. The pollution he had spoken lay as a fog of sweet wine on his lips.