Xie Rong waited in Prince Xie Heng’s estate until late into the night.
Located in northeast Chang’an, the manor housed an artificial lake dug by eight hundred artisans harnessing the winding river’s waters. Surrounded by blue tiled whitewashed walls and roof edges adorned with upturned flying eaves, the finished grounds differed starkly from Chang’an architecture with a transcendent grace. While other princes built imposing palatial compounds topped by glazed tiles and grand sandalwood gates befitting imperial nobility, Prince Xie Heng’s estate brimmed with transplanted waxberry trees and willows from places like Huainan and Kaifeng. Verdant serpentine corridors hugged secluded pavilions wrapped around gently flowing streams, resembling not Chang’an but some wanderer’s glimpse of Jiangnan riverlands.
Known as the cultivated Prince HengYi in Chang’an, “cultivated” described his gentle temperament while also extolling his refined elegance. Though born in Chang’an it was said Prince Heng often recuperated in the southern riverlands, cultivating those genteel airs until even his estate exuded almost aqueous grace.
Xie Rong had been but a young child their first meeting, when Prince Heng returned from the south cloaked in gossamer radiance.
Back then still deprived of her mother’s favor and brothers’ affection, the palace-raised girl grew unrestrained as a wild rascal. With the secluded crown prince chronically ill and her other royal brothers still infants, lacking playmates she passed days teasing cats and birds, creating no end of ruckuses. Still a princess, none dared discipline her and she delighted in such unchecked freedom. One afternoon chasing a small bird deep into the forbidden imperial gardens, she burst from the dappled forest onto a long covered walkway and crashed straight into someone.
Garbed in dark purple brocade robes with golden waist sash and exquisite jade pendants colliding musically, the man had been approaching from the opposite direction. As Xie Rong tripped, he gently caught her forehead before she fell.
She recalled his broad warm hand and the gentle voice saying “Careful”.
Righting herself, Xie Rong glared up defiantly with the captured bird still flapping in her grubby palms, challenging sharply: “Who dares touch Bengong?!”
Her proud posturing seemed to amuse him. After appraising the feisty young girl, he mildly replied: “You must be Concubine Xian’s daughter. Etiquette dictates calling me Imperial Uncle.”
Xie Rong racked her brains, recalling she did have a seldom home young uncle named Xie HengYi, bestowed the title Prince of Wen. Squinting scrutinizingly, she decided he seemed far younger than imagined and cheekily called out: “Xie HengYi!”
Xie Heng only chuckled, unoffended, brushing the dust from her shoulder and casually asking: “Who taught you that?”
Assuming he meant her bird-catching skills, she smugly declared: “No one teaches Bengong! Mother ignores me so I taught myself!”
Three days later, Prince Heng received approval from the emperor to take the unruly young princess as disciple. From then on Xie Rong read and wrote under Prince Heng in his estate’s study, covering Confucian classics, the Spring-Autumn Annals, and eventually state governance.
Her courtesy name, her calligraphy, her knowledge of court politics, taxation, military tactics – nothing was lacking compared to the imperial princes, because she was personally tutored by Prince Xie Heng.
To Xie Rong, Prince Heng embodied both cherished teacher and beloved confidante – among the most important figures in her life. Thus Jiang Kui’s grim warning of assassination plots alarmed her deeply.
That night when Prince Heng entered the study, Xie Rong listlessly perused an essay slumped over the writing desk.
“What’s the matter?” He smiled upon seeing her. “My little pearl seems unhappy today?”
Having spent the afternoon in court and brief Eastern Palace visit, he had hastily eaten before returning to discover the princess awaiting him since dusk. After a quick kitchen detour he set the dessert tray before her, smiling brightly while hand-feeding her a sweet cake morsel: “You must be hungry?”
Xie Rong usually loved the flower-shaped frozen crisps from his kitchens, made with his secret recipe yielding exceptionally smooth syrup. Whenever she grew weary from lessons, he would enter bearing a platterful, instantly reviving her spirits.
But not this time. Still chewing the mouthful, she urgently sputtered out: “HengYi! Today I heard…someone plots to assassinate you!”
Unexpectedly nonplussed, Prince Heng calmly fed her another crispy blossom, remarking mildly: “Many have wanted me dead over the years.”
A hush fell before he continued: “After yesterday’s Autumn Day feast three scholar-officials were found dead. One man Talent Wuyang and I labored greatly to advance, along with Minister Ling and Academician Zhou. At court he rashly revisited the old Jingde era policy critiques – these killers clearly silenced him to prevent implications upon the innocent.”
“As student of teacher Yu Changrong…friendless in Chang’an, authorities this morning summoned Teacher Yu to identify the body…”
Xie Rong’s heart twinged, recalling their teacher’s sorrowful mien earlier.
“So my little pearl, do not urge me to hide away for now. I cannot cower,” Prince Heng lifted another cake to her lips. “I made a promise to Wuyang long ago…with two years time remaining to fulfill it together.”
“Might many more die?” Xie Rong softly asked.
“Likely so.” Prince Heng softly replied.
Setting his chopsticks down, he stroked her hair comfortingly: “But do not fear. I will not fall so easily.”
Xie Rong always remembered the gentle night breeze and his warm palm resting upon her head.
Starlight like gossamer strands.
Jiang Kui turned around.
Within, Penglai Palace’s wavering candlelight. Without, the silent figure beyond her lattice window.
It was an intricately carved double-leaf casement window framed by entwining fishtail fretwork birds and beasts in red sandalwood. The dim chamber left star fire from the outside streaming elongated shadows past her feet.
Jiang Kui stared irately at his silhouette bleeding across her floor.
Vexed by the long unexplained absence leaving her steeped in needless worry, his nonchalant sudden materialization compounded her irritation.
Thus she stealthily stomped down hard upon his splash of darkness.
“Young Lady Jiang,” an amused voice sounded. “Why tread upon me so?”
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