When Jiang Kui spotted Xie Wuyan on the festooned barge, she was feeling vexed by the crowds around her.
At banquets she previously attended as the frail youngest daughter of the General’s Residence, she would often quietly shrink into a corner alone with her tea. But tonight, attending as the fiancee of the Crown Prince-in-waiting, the most eminent and noble houses of Chang’an were all vying to converse with her. Her father and brothers had gone to socialize with friends on another barge, leaving her amidst chattering circles of noble ladies.
Those praising her beauty, congratulating her engagement, introducing themselves – people streamed steadily to greet her in an endless flow. The dazzling silks and satins nearly made her eyes dizzy. At one point a recently promoted scholar even sidled up, loudly demanding to compose an ode for her on the spot.
While maintaining a smiling exterior, she cursed inwardly. If not for needing to uncover the culprit behind her attempted drowning, she would pretend illness and flee any second now.
It was at this moment she noticed a gaze coming from afar.
She turned and glimpsed the young gentleman peering out from an ebony skiff – recognizing Xie Wuyan amidst those deep crimson robes, colors reserved for the Crown Prince, which she had seen him wear twice before.
So she made a deep curtsy amidst the crowds, as if in reciprocation for that exchanged bow on the white jade steps.
For an ephemeral instant, the crowds noise died down. As the betrothed couple saluted each other across the shimmering expanse, the boundless evening breeze gusted from her end and billowed towards him, like wordless emotional transmissions.
The ecstatic recent graduate scholar clapped loudly. “Such a picturesque scene! I simply must compose an ode!”
Together with the crowd on deck, he bowed ceremoniously to the Crown Prince, looking most animated as he hurried off in search of brush, ink and paper. Just then another pair of hands suddenly flashed forth to cover Jiang Kui’s eyes as an ethereal girl’s voice said: “No peeking at your groom before the big day!”
Wasn’t it you who brought me to see him at the Eastern Palace last time? Jiang Kui thought privately.
At the same time, she obediently responded: “Princess…”
It was conventional custom for betrothed elite youths to not meet privately prior to marriage, out of elders’ concerns that upon seeing one another both sides may be mutually dissatisfied, resulting in revoked engagements that damaged both families’ prestige.
Xie Yao giggled while removing her hands, allowing Jiang Kui to face her and curtsy gracefully at last. Xie Yao returned the greeting, happily seizing her hand while radiating delight. “Well? Wouldn’t you agree this year’s Autumn Festival Banquet is the grandest held in Chang’an?”
Jiang Kui nodded earnestly. The last riverside banquet of comparably spectacular scale was held in the fifth Jingde year, when the Prince of Wen departed to take up governorship of Bian Prefecture. This year marked the second year of Prince Qi’s coming-of-age. With the honor of hosting the Autumn Festival Banquet as chief patron for the first time, he had clearly invested tremendous effort and ingenuity.
“I came specifically to chat with you, princess…” Xie Yao waved towards another similarly ornamented barge not far off. “I have to return shortly once festivities start.”
With so many banquet guests scattered over several barges, wooden footbridges connected them. The barge Jiang Kui was on seated mainly eminent officials and nobles, while Xie Yao’s barge hosted royal relatives. Festivities had yet to officially commence, so guests and relatives shuttled freely between decks at this hour to exchange pleasantries.
Unskilled in social graces, Jiang Kui let Xie Yao tug her to the bow and chat idly while pointing out key guests that might hold clues about her near drowning. Jiang Kui listened closely and assessed the possibilities.
“That man is Lord Ling Wei of the Ling clan – we call him Master Boyang. He’s tutor to the Crown Prince and recently returned from Huai Prefecture to assume the role of Minister of War. You’ll likely see much of him at the Eastern Palace in future…He has a fierce temper, tread cautiously.”
Xie Yao indicated a tall, middle-aged man who stood alone on the upper deck. Draped in billowing robes that rippled like eagle feathers, Jiang Kui instantly recognized him as a military man.
“The one ahead is Lord Si Jiong, promoted to Vice Minister of Revenue two years ago. Extremely skilled in finance, thanks to a proposed household census policy that let him rise quickly through the ranks.”
Xie Yao pointed remotely to someone amidst crowds on the opposite barge. Garlanded by circling figures who continually bowed greetings, that man had a refined, demure air while his loose sleeves hinted at talent in maneuverings.
“I don’t like him,” Xie Yao murmured.
“Why is that?”
“He was brought into politics thanks to the Prince of Wen’s recommendation. The two were once bosom friends in their heyday – both poetic and artistic prodigies, peerless in their youth, roaming freely together. One named Xie Heng, the other Si Jiong. With one character in their courtesy names sounding alike, they were dubbed Chang’an’s Twin Hings. Then afterwards…” She scowled. “They had an acrimonious fallout.”
“A fallout?”
“Because Si Jiong was from commoner birth and failed to gain office at first, ambition thwarted, he took an unsavory path.” Xie Yao gave a disgruntled huff. “He turned to the eunuchs in exchange for an official post.”
“Securing the eunuchs’ backing, he was appointed to the censorial office and rose from mere sixth-rank petty clerk to Vice Minister of Revenue in two years’ time. The year he assumed that role, the official household registry expanded by nine hundred thousand new entries. Meanwhile national tax revenues increased by 1.2 billion coins.”
Hearing this astonishing figure, Jiang Kui inhaled softly.
Xie Yao whispered into Jiang Kui’s ear. “He ruthlessly exploited the people through heavy-handed means, extorting and embezzling funds until folks from all walks of life felt squeezed dry, leaving the masses simmering with discontent…And the money he extracted didn’t go into the state Zuo Treasury, but the Emperor’s Privy Purse instead.”
The Zuo Treasury constituted public coffers for national administration, whereas the Privy Purse belonged exclusively to the sovereign.
“In short, the entire court knows about this,” Xie Yao murmured. “Many admire his talents, just as many loathe his methods…”
A gentle voice suddenly cut in. “Little treasure, gossiping maliciously again I see?”
The two girls glanced up in unison to see the newcomer striding towards them grinning, attired in dark purple court robes with a red and gold waist sash and beautiful nephrite pendant dangling from his carved jade belt. Though she had seen him only once before, that was the year Jiang Kui first donned her adult vestment ceremony. In her memories that man also wore dark purple court robes fastened with a crimson and gold sash at the waist, lustrous pieces of carved nephrite and jade.
The Prince of Wen, Xie Heng, alias Ruh ing. The finest gentleman in Chang’an, known to embody purity as flawless as his namesake gemstone.
“Cousin Heng!” Xie Yao cheered, hurrying forth in greeting. “When did you arrive?”
As the current emperor’s youngest maternal brother, Prince Xie Heng ought to be addressed as Uncle by Xie Yao when considering seniority. But she called unrestrainedly by his courtesy name without the slightest deference, which he also seemed perfectly amenable to.
“I arrived a while ago, and after hastily socializing for a spell, came to look for you.” Carrying over a dish of sweetmeats, he selected a carved floral cake to pop into Xie Yao’s mouth, laughing. “Here’s something to plug that disrespectful little mouth.”
Xie Yao immediately chomped it down, nearly nibbling his fingers. Beside them Jiang Kui was still curtsying as Xie Yao hastily asked: “Cousin, are you leaving again?”
In the winter of the fifth Jingde year, Xie Heng departed for Bian Prefecture to assume governorship, and was gone three full years. It was common for princely kinsmen like him to be regularly dispatched from court to oversee different regions. Now that he had finally returned to Chang’an, it was uncertain if he would stay for long.
Xie Heng fed Xie Yao a sticky rice cake while answering. “I won’t be going again.”
Xie Yao asked indistinctly with her mouth full, expression solemn. “Truly…not leaving anymore?”
Xie Heng’s laughter rang out as he rapped her head. Only then did he sincerely respond: “I truly won’t be going again.”
Night winds swept onto the deck, fluttering both their robes. With one gazing down and the other peering up, the serene lanterns outlined two similar silhouettes. Identical chiseled brows and stellar eyes stared alongside in the portrait that was like an unfurling ink scroll.
Jiang Kui abruptly wondered – Xie Wuyan probably had such a countenance too.
For no reason, she grew curios about the appearance of that seldom-glimpsed groom.
Just then, clear notes of flute and drums sounded, followed by strings rising in unison.
“The feast commences.” Xie Heng grabbed hold of Xie Yao.
As he pulled her bodily towards the opposite barge, she twisted back reluctantly while bidding Jiang Kui goodbye: “I’ll be back later to play with you again, sister!”
With Xie Yao returned to her seat amongst royal relatives while Jiang Kui sat with daughters of eminent houses, she could espy from afar that cluster of deep crimson across the waters.
Guests gradually sought their seats while elegant maidservants glided by to fill each table’s wine cups. Soon, eminent guests completely occupied both levels of the brightly lit and festooned barge, illuminations streaming brilliantly everywhere. Crisp grape wines glowed within the golden decanters, refracting ten thousand lamps that coruscated like countless fiery blossoms.
With all guests seated, the host raised his glass: “With drums and horns melodiously aligned, we gather for delights of wine – let none depart until dead drunk!”
The host was naturally Prince Qi. Clad in brocaded fineries, he sat commandingly yet wore a debonair look. Chanting to the moon before taking a drink, nothing about his bearing resembled lofty imperial nobility. Instead, he had the carefree flair of an elegant young wastrel. Uttered from his lips, that blessing pronounced combined the dignified air of an imperial firstborn son with the blithe grace of a prodigal gentleman.
Of all leading socialites in Chang’an City, Prince Qi held first place in urbane sophistication. If Prince Heng represented the gentle warmth of polished jade, then Prince Qi embodied the refined elegance of orchid. Fond of wine, outings, tea, carved playthings and collecting singing girls – simply put, the archetypal pastimes of dilettante young masters were all enthusiastically embraced. Just as the Crown Prince managed the Academy of Letters, he independently founded his own grand Hongwen Academy boasting one hundred thousand scrolls gathered from every corner of the realm. Daily he would invite the era’s finest poets and scholars to chant verses and compose poetic rhapsodies, making endless merry.
As his benediction concluded, a sonorous drumbeat suddenly shattered the heavens.
First came a solo stretch of drums, before sequential deafening peals resounded skyward. Then panpipes joined in unison with strings rising, magnificent music billowing as if propelled by the momentum of thousands of steeds and soldiers sweeping forth!
“A battle anthem!” someone below exclaimed.
This was martial music.
Shocked surprise gripped all guests in their seats. Battle anthems evolved from ancient war songs. Legend held that this particular piece commemorated an ancient general shattering enemy battalion lines with merely five hundred elite horsemen under his command, like a sharpened blade piercing through a hundred thousand crack troops to clinch a pivotal victory, henceforth causing his name to resound across the land.
No one expected the opening number for this night’s Autumn Festival Banquet to actually be a military composition.
Buzzing discussions erupted amongst the guests. Young hot-blooded gentlemen were already stirred with zeal, vigorously keeping tempo. Far more cautious dignitaries and nobles knitted their brows, privately ruminating over Prince Qi’s intentions.
For years now, common knowledge in Chang’an was that the ailing Crown Prince’s prospects remained precarious, while Prince Qi’s following and influence swelled ever formidable. Today’s Son of Heaven already granted Prince Qi permission to found the Hongwen Academy, receive numerous guests and participate in state politics – implicitly signaling acquiescence towards his potential succession in future. But at the end of the day, Prince Qi was still not the heir apparent. Some discretion was still expected from him on surface matters.
Hence the sounding of a rousing battle hymn now seemed to bare long concealed ambitions before the eyes of the world.
This was deliberate posturing, an assertion of might, a means to intimidate and pressure – moreover, tacit interrogation of all guests present: are you in or not?
Amidst the bellicose orchestration, a dancing girl in red veils alighted on stage.
In preparations for this Autumn Festival Banquet, Prince Qi had overnight ordered craftsmen to erect an expansive waterborne pavilion amidst Qu River. Fluttering silk gauzes and dazzling illuminations transformed this lakeside stage into an ethereal celestial palace risen from waters, as if not of the mortal realm.
The girl in red took stance atop the rippling platform, drawing her sword aloft as introduction.
“A sword dance!” another exclaimed under his breath.
What followed was intense, valiant strings as the maiden began a solo dance wielding her sword. Bold and vigorous in motion, her swirling skirts bloomed like battling with blade amidst blossoms. The choreography evoked majestic scenes of generals leading troops to pierce enemy formations.
Such fiercely resolute martial music and dance unleashed waves of ardor and mettle, even coercing enthusiastic applause from some of the younger guests. But elders among court dignitaries and nobles mostly frowned to themselves, privately assessing Prince Qi’s motives.
Yet Jiang Kui perceived the vestiges of death borne upon those sword forms instead.
As tempo accelerated frantically, so did the dancing girl’s steps. Approaching climax, she grasped her sword horizontal to chest, tip aimed heavenward. Night breeze fluttered her veil aside, unveiling chiseled features with steely eyes holding wintry blades within, bristling with formidable spirit like an unsheathed weapon.
“Beauty as edges, blades as the fairest!” the new graduate scholar exclaimed in praise beside her.
“Pardon me, might I borrow that sword at your waist a moment?” Jiang Kui murmured quietly.
Within scholarly and literary circles in Chang’an City, it was common to bear ceremonial swords as ornamentation representing a lofty aesthetic ideal rather than practical purpose. Jiang Kui reached over to carefully unsheathe the blade from its scabbard by that scholar’s side until it slid out with a clear, metallic ring.
Amidst abated silence across all guests, she slowly descended from atop the festooned barge and drifted towards the waterborne pavilion.
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