Xie Wuyan did not know what he had done wrong.
When he awoke, he found the study empty. He was lying amidst a pile of scattered books and scrolls, a sheet of official stationery haphazardly draped over his face. There was also an ink blot smeared onto the tip of his nose.
Coughing, he sat up and grabbed the stationery to unfold it. The middle was blotted with a big splotch of blurred ink, as though the writer had furiously scribbled and blotted it repeatedly in anger before flinging it at his face.
Next he noticed the thick fur blanket cushioning him, placed by the person as they left – likely a last minute softening of heart, afraid he would catch cold after falling deeply asleep.
Bathed under the shimmering glass lamp, he quietly sat for a spell with a knuckle lightly pressed to the smudge on his nose tip, an inaudible chuckle escaping him.
Just then, knocking sounded outside the study as Prince’s Vice-Minister Gu entered. He reported that the Imperial Concubine was waiting to share the evening meal with His Highness.
Sharing meals and quarters were stipulations mutually agreed by both parties in order to maintain at least superficial marital harmony, preventing unfavorable gossip from spreading through the Eastern Palace. Yet when Xie Wuyan entered the main hall, Jiang Kui sat stonily facing her own table, refusing to even glance his way.
The two silently ate their meal without exchanging a word. As they exited the hall, Xie Wuyan took a step forward only for Jiang Kui to instantly retreat half a pace back. If he so much as coughed or blinked, she would warily eye him as though facing a formidable foe, full of caution.
…Xie Wuyan still had no idea what he had done wrong.
He racked his brains to recall the last moments before falling asleep. He remembered reading awhile in the study before dozing off… Surely he couldn’t have done anything untoward in his sleep?
The usually proper and well-mannered Crown Prince was uncharacteristically flustered.
Without following Jiang Kui to the west wing study, he silently gathered his books and retired to the side pavilion instead. Jiang Kui made no move to stop him, seemingly disinclined to remain in the same room.
In Minister Gu’s eyes, the young newlywed couple appeared to have quarreled over some unknown matter, abruptly ceasing to interact or even meet each other’s eyes.
While Jiang Kui returned to the study with Minister Gu to examine records, Xie Wuyan went to the side pavilion to continue a letter he had yet to finish.
Xie Wuyan entered the steaming interior of the pavilion. A white-clothed attendant knelt behind the bamboo partition, holding a scroll with a wooden tray bearing a pot of tea and teacup at his side.
“Your Highness,” the white-clothed attendant greeted him with a deep bow.
“Luo Eleven, I’ve told you many times there’s no need to bow so formally,” Xie Wuyan sighed as he helped him stand. “Any news from the bookshop front?”
Luo Eleven handed over the scroll and accompanied him to the desk, quickly turning to pour tea before continuing his account as he busied himself, “That request for seven thousand taels to protect Prince Xie Heng has been accepted today. The one who took the job is heroine Miss A-Rong from Chang Le quarter.”
“There are still no leads on investigating that old man in white. The sole intel is that he often rides in a pitch-black carriage… Additionally, conflicts between the wandering beggars of north and south have been steadily worsening with signs things may spiral out of control.”
“How interesting that the same Miss A-Rong once wanted Minister Xie dead, yet now protects him. Do give more of an advance payment if possible. With autumn’s arrival sparrow antler has gotten expensive, yet Little Chen’s illness continues deteriorating and his mother has been desperately short on money.”
“Understood,” Luo Eleven acknowledged. “The rest are trifles, Your Highness may read over the main scroll. No major dealings of late, just the usual scuffles in the martial world. However, Teacher Qinghe has asked me to bring up possibly raising our percentage take from each transaction…he feels our current earnings too paltry.”
Xie Wuyan gave an amused huff. “That crooked merchant… Don’t listen to him.”
Luo Eleven placed a porcelain lamp on the desk and adjusted the wick. Under the bright lamplight Xie Wuyan flipped through the thick bundle of documents, making the occasional notation with his brush. When the tea cooled it was continually refilled, wisps of fragrant steam coiling upward alongside the table.
As night deepened, chill air crept in through the window and gradually permeated the room. Luo Eleven shut the window and heard the faint coughs from the figure at the desk. He took a padded cloak hanging on a nearby clothes rack and draped it over Xie Wuyan’s shoulders. So engrossed was Xie Wuyan that he didn’t even notice.
“Your Highness,” Luo softly prompted, “it’s time to retire for the night.”
“Very well,” Xie Wuyan murmured absently.
Every time he would readily acquiesce in voice yet take no action, as though he hadn’t heard at all.
Over these years, Luo Eleven had exhausted every method possible trying to get His Highness the Crown Prince to retire earlier each night, yet always to no avail. He would often deliberately make some louder sounds as reminder once it was time for His Highness to sleep, and Xie Wuyan would always vaguely grunt in assent…then proceed to toil ceaselessly away.
Just as Luo Eleven was racking his brains, a knock sounded outside the pavilion as Prince’s Vice-Minister Gu entered. After bowing deeply, he relayed a message to the Crown Prince, “Your Highness, Her Ladyship the Imperial Concubine urges you to retire.”
The figure at the desk paused in writing, slightly taken aback. “I thought she was still angry with me.”
In fact, he had resigned himself to spending the entire night in the side pavilion.
“Her Ladyship said…as one who is ill, once night falls Your Highness ought to retire on time. She also said…if you insist on staying up late…then there would be no need to return to the bedchambers in future…” Prince’s Vice-Minister Gu respectfully transmitted the message while cautiously weighing his words.
Having heard this, Xie Wuyan gave an abrupt soft chuckle to himself. He could imagine his lady wife’s original phrasing likely consisted of angrily gritted words laced with some reluctant concern.
“Very well.” He finished the last few characters and set down his brush.
Luo Eleven heaved an internal sigh of relief, quickly stepping forward to tidy away the stationery and writing implements. Emptying the remaining tea into the slop jar, he carried the tray off to wash the tea set.
Vice-Minister Gu emerged from behind the partition, draping a fur-lined robe over Xie Wuyan’s shoulders and lighting the way with a windproof lantern as he escorted His Highness toward the bedchambers.
The dim bedchambers only had its candles snuffed, shrouded in darkness. Curled atop the golden, silk-embroidered canopy bed, the maiden had rolled over with her back toward her husband, entirely ensconced within thick quilts in a visibly sulky posture.
She was indeed still angry with him.
Beneath that mild-mannered, obedient gentlemanly facade, Xie Wuyan had actually wormed his way into her embrace multiple times – utterly detestable!
Rustling sounds of changing clothes carried from behind her, followed by soft approaching footsteps. A figure stood at her bedside, head bowed as he whispered almost inaudibly to her sleeping form, “I apologize. If I’ve committed some offense, please punish me, my lady.”
With her back to him, Jiang Kui pretended to be sound asleep, maintaining eyes shut without response.
Rarely did she assume such a docile sleeping posture, long raven hair spilling over the sheets to reveal an ivory-pale petite face with tranquil brows and lashes. Plump lips were softly closed, incredibly smooth skin seemed delicate as rice paper. She resembled an exquisite porcelain doll. Dim light filtering through the gauze curtains fell aslant upon the dainty nose in a swirl, casting a hazy shadow.
The figure behind her silently watched for a time before suddenly reaching out a hand. Jiang Kui forcefully resisted her urge to violently smack it aside, holding her breath as she observed his actions. If he tried anything untoward, she could catch him red-handed.
Yet those hands merely drifted over the bedding covering her, carefully tucking in the edges without contacting a hair of her skin.
Moonlight spilled in through the window, casting the lone figure at her bedside into lengthy silhouette, soundlessly overlaying her countenance with gentleness.
After some time had passed, the figure settled onto the edge of her bed. Amid soft coughs, he drifted into sleep. Jiang Kui rolled over stealthily, secretly peering out at his slumbering profile, abruptly forgiving her husband completely.
…However, she was still extremely angry over his persistent habit of using her as his personal body pillow.
At dawn next morning, Xie Wuyan was roused under his stern wife’s severe scoldings. She pushed and herded him all the way to the lotus pond to practice swordsmanship, then stood over him changing into crimson red court robes before they headed toward Taiji Palace for the early court session.
After morning court, Xie Wuyan returned to share the noon meal with his wife at the Eastern Palace. Under her supervision he then switched into scholar’s robes and stepped into an awaiting carriage bound for Chongwen Academy.
The dark crimson curtained carriage halted before the solemn ebony gates of the academy. Amid a sea of escorts, the Crown Prince proceeded toward the hall, the wooden doors opening then closing to swallow him, noise fading as though the tide receding. Remaining in the empty lecture hall, Teacher Chang Ying stood alone atop the podium. He greeted Xie Wuyan with a bow and murmured deferentially, “Go on ahead, Your Highness. I shall stand guard here.”
“You have my gratitude, Teacher,” Xie Wuyan returned with a bow.
Exiting through an alternate side door, under Luo Eleven’s accompaniment he swiftly changed into nondescript grey robes and bent to enter an unremarkable carriage awaiting by an obscure rear academy gate. The carriage wheels rumbled as both figures rushed toward Prince Xie Heng’s estate.
There were four desks placed in Prince Xie Heng’s study, each set with tea, refreshments and heaps of administrative documents awaiting review. Two desks were already occupied, one by the gentle-tempered Prince Xie Heng and the other the grim-faced Crown Prince Tutor Ling Jiao.
“Teacher.” Upon entering, Xie Wuyan first greeted Ling Jiao then smiled toward Xie Heng with a bow. “Elder Cousin.”
Despite being senior by a generation, Xie Heng behaved amicably without standing on ceremony, allowing them both to address him by courtesy name instead of as Imperial Uncle.
Settling into the guest seat, Xie Wuyan received a nod from his senior kinsman. “Let’s wait a little longer, Minister Zhou must be held up on business at the Hanlin Academy.”
They did not have to wait long before someone else entered, passing his dark red padded cloak into Luo Eleven’s hands with thanks. Smoothing out his spacious official’s robes, he exchanged bows all around – “Your Highness. Master Ling. Elder Brother Xie Heng.”
This man holding the position of Editorial Director Designate of the Hanlin Academy was Zhou Man, styled Ningzhi. The “Minister Zhou” who often summoned Jiang Kui for private conversations after Teacher Chang Ying’s lectures, conveniently rescuing her from several perilous situations, was none other than Zhou Ningzhi. He and Xie Heng were extremely close, addressing each other intimately as sworn brothers rather than observing strict seniority.
Taking the final seat at the last desk, Minister Zhou seemed rather harried as he launched straight into his account without pause. “After this morning’s court session, His Majesty intends to appoint Finance Vice Minister Si to concurrent position of Chancellor of the Three Departments with third class ranking.”
Vice Minister Si, styled Weiying, was the gentleman Jiang Kui once glimpsed from afar folding his sleeves to bow within the crowds at the autumn banquet. Renowned for his financial acumen and talent for amassing wealth, he had rapidly risen from sixth-rank Gentleman for Court Service to Finance Vice-Minister in but three years’ time. For him to now concurrently hold the position of Chancellor with third class ranking…
The current dynasty implemented a joint policymaking cabinet. Bearing the concurrent post of Chancellor of the Three Departments with third class ranking signified appointment as Prime Minister.
Si was an official whose meteoric rise stemmed from nomination by palace eunuchs, thus an extremely vital figure in the Northern Offices’ eunuch faction. With the Northern Offices already controlling the Shenwu Guards’ military force, appointing the financial authority Si as Chancellor signaled the Northern Offices’ increasingly blazing power.
Xie Heng gave a soft sigh. “Back when I first met him in Jiangnan…he was nothing like what he is today.”
The four held confidential discussions within the prince’s study until late night, even taking their evening meal together in the study. Led by Prince Xie Heng, Minister Zhou also actively participated while Tutor Ling occasionally chimed in. Xie Wuyan silently listened for the most part.
Gentle, modest and self-effacing, the Crown Prince was the most beloved nobleman amongst the scholarly community of Chang’an. No matter an official’s rank or status, he always treated them with utmost cordiality, sometimes bordering on humility. Additionally, he had an excellent memory. Even a lowly ninth-rank clerk he had met but once, the Crown Prince could still recall clearly, chatting with him easily on household matters and inquiring whether his family were all well.
As a result the scholars were convinced the Crown Prince regarded all men as equals, holding him in both deep respect and affection. With him as the nucleus the sprawling yet loose coalition of civil officials gradually formed. As the years passed with the Northern and Southern Offices falling deeper into opposition, although the sickly Crown Prince rarely made public appearances, in the scholar-officials’ minds he still reigned as their true leader against the eunuchs.
One by one the luminaries winked alight as night wore on. Having decided on several key policies, they began to discuss various petty court intrigues. Draining the last of the tea in his cup, Xie Wuyan straightened with a bow, serenely stating, “Please accept my apologies for leaving early, but it is nearly hour of Hai and I am expected back at the palace.”
The other three were momentarily taken aback. His Highness the Crown Prince was usually the last to depart. Yet today it was as though he had transformed into someone else, unexpectedly the first to propose leaving.
As though recalling something, Xie Heng chuckled softly. “I’ve just realized among all present, Wuyan is youngest, yet the only one to have a wife. Is it the lady of the palace hurrying your return I assume?”
Xie Wuyan’s eyes lowered benevolently as he gave a tranquil nod tinged with a smile, lightly echoing back, “Then when might my dear cousin’s nuptials take place? Royal Father is always urging you to take a consort soon, yet there seems little action on your part.”
“Me?” Xie Heng grinned as he shook his head. “I’m no longer young, what maiden would take a liking to me?”
His words were overly self-deprecating. Prince Xie Heng was the youngest imperial brother of the current sovereign and years of secluded convalescence in rural Jiangnan had allowed him to retain a graceful, youthful air. Combined with his genial temperament, he seemed truly a reserved, refined gentleman in his prime. The number of Chang’an ladies infatuated with him could easily encircle Qujiang river with queueing admirers stretching a kilometer long.
As though recalling something else, Xie Heng continued, “Yongjia will soon return from religious pilgrimage. It seems the Princess’s estate will grow lively again. I shall take Xie Bi to meet her, and when you have time you ought to bring your lady along to pay your respects.”
“Of course,” Xie Wuyan inclined his head.
Yongjia was the honorary title of Princess Xie Lang, the current emperor’s sister. For the dynasty’s fortunes and prosperity ever since her imperial brother’s accession, Princess Yongjia had resided out of the capital for years on religious pilgrimage to Guanyin Zen Monastery. The imperial kinsmen seldom saw her and were not well acquainted. As a princess Xie Yuan would hold the prestigious rank of elder princess in future, so Xie Heng wanted to bridge the gap by having both female heirs become familiar.
Before leaving Prince Xie Heng’s estate, Xie Wuyan made a special detour to the small rear kitchens and took along a packet of candied pastries. Luo Eleven awaited by an unassuming side gate with a carriage ready to transport them straight to Chongwen Academy for a change of clothes and farewell to Teacher Chang Ying. Then it was back into the carriage parked squarely before the front academy gates to depart.
On his return the Crown Prince happened to catch sight of an impatient figure preparing for some bold action below the palace walls…
Their eyes met in mutual astonishment.
Having seized the opportune moment while Xie Wuyan was away, Jiang Kui had been on the verge of scaling the walls on her way to the East Pavilion bookshop to deliver a message for Zhu Zi’an, only to coincidentally encounter Xie Wuyan upon his return.
“You…” Xie Wuyan looked at her, “Come with me for a bit.”
He led Jiang Kui back to the bedchambers and blew out the candles at her bedside, leaving only a small lamp lit. Crouched over the desk he swiftly sketched a map for her.
Jiang Kui accepted the paper depicting a detailed hidden route for escaping the Eastern Palace toward the outer city.
“Destroy after using,” Xie Wuyan murmured.
He drew open a window to watch her receding figure as she slipped out.
A night breeze stirred his sleeve hems. He lingered awhile at the window before slowly raising the corners of his lips in a soundless smile, eyes downcast.
Jiang Kui did not see Zhu Zi’an at the bookstore. After leaving a message with Liu Qinghe to pass along she departed. Returning to the bedchambers, a small lantern still burned. Beneath it sat a packet of softened candied pastries, the saccharine syrup slightly melted.
The edge of the canopy bed was thickly blanketed. Its occupant seemed to have fallen deeply asleep, punctuated by the occasional soft cough.
Thus Jiang Kui stealthily shut the window and tiptoed barefoot to the desk. She held Xie Wuyan’s map over the candle flame until it was completely reduced to ashes, then finished all the pastries. Afterwards she silently washed up and changed into a plain silk nightrobe, gently blowing out the little lamp before retiring to bed.
After lying there awhile, she rose again and approached the canopy bed hesitantly. After some slight wavering she helped tuck the soundly sleeping figure snugly beneath the quilts.
He slept very quietly. The bedding edged up to his smooth jawline, covering all the way up to the faintly flushed ear tips. Long lashes drooped, casting a faint shadow below.
“Oh fine,” she whispered almost inaudibly. “You really are forgiven this time.”
At last she returned to her own bed.
In Minister Gu’s eyes, the quarreling couple from last night had abruptly reconciled by nightfall. The Crown Princess had been pulled along into the bedchambers by the Crown Prince, the doors shut tight as they conversed privately on unknown matters. Finally the small lamp was extinguished within, the gauzy curtains dimmed, and it seemed both had retired to sleep simultaneously.
He gave a faint smile, deeply convinced of the common adage “Pillow fights end with bedtime harmony.”
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