Autumnal dawn streamed between the parted bed curtains, spilling warm golden light across the room.
Having rushed about all of yesterday, Jiang Kui slept extremely soundly until brightness suffused outside. After lazily washing up, she trod upon the scattered gold and crimson leaves on her way to the West Wing Hall to visit Xie Wuyan.
He had also just roused from slumber. Languidly opening his eyes and turning to meet her gaze, he greeted in a drowsy murmur, “Morning, my lady.”
The clear morning rays illuminated his face, rendering his eyes as translucent as glazed glass reflecting her visage.
Today she wore a crimson archer’s robe bound by an exceptionally wide white sash accentuating her exquisite figure. Lustrous dark tresses plaited high behind her head and skewered by a red jade hairpin were arranged akin to a noblewoman prepared for a hunt.
His tranquil gaze lingered leisurely upon her form for a long moment.
Jiang Kui set down a medicine bowl and settled beside his bed. Her slender supple hand grasped the ceramic spoon, about to scoop up a mouthful when she abruptly paused.
Before she could assist him, he had already sat up obediently closing his eyes awaiting her ministrations.
“…Xie Wuyan,” she addressed him frostily.
Blinking wide innocent eyes brimming with confusion, he turned a questioning look her way.
“So you can sit up on your own now?” she serenely stated. “Then surely you should be able to ingest medicine yourself?”
Xie Wuyan silently contemplated for an instant before quietly accepting the bowl she shoved into his hands. Head lowered, he meekly finished the dose.
Jiang Kui scrutinized him closely—the dispirited air had faded from his expression. Though still somewhat drowsy, he appeared reasonably spirited.
Her intense stare made him slightly nervous. Glancing up he tentatively asked, “Does my lady have any orders?”
“You should be well enough now for assuming Governor of Yong Prefecture correct?” Her tone remained aloof. “I see your complexion quite improved.”
He moved to brace his chest and cough when her flickering grasp seized his wrist. Nearly yanking him forward, their foreheads almost collided. She enunciated each syllable clearly, “Don’t. You. Dare. Fake. Illness.”
Looming over him, the exquisite eyes bored fiercely into his own. Alluring lips nearly brushed his face conveying her furious command. The light breath disturbed his lashes.
He couldn’t resist blinking once before gently acquiescing, “Very well.”
“Humph.” Snatching his medicine bowl away, Jiang Kui gracefully strode off calling over one shoulder, “I shall personally verify your diligence performing duties later today at the hour of You.” (T/N: In ancient China, people divided a day and night into 12 time periods, each equaling to the present 2 hours. You Shi ‘??’ is 5 to 7 p.m. represents the moment of night falls.)
Xie Wuyan watched her departing figure. The vermillion ribbon in her hair fluttered like a dancing butterfly amidst the dawn radiance. He smiled faintly to himself after a brief observation.
“Young miss Jiang,” he murmured. “I never knew you could act so fierce.”
Donning outer robes, he leaned against the doorway gazing thoughtfully as autumn leaves continuously fluttered down outside. Silent flecks of light sifted through the tree crowns splashing his entirety in layers of brightness and dimness. Gradually he lowered his eyes, mind occupied by unknown thoughts.
When the hour of you arrived nearing dusk, an esteemed noblewife had readied a food basket before boarding a cyan-blue palanquin accompanied by two palace ladies—setting off to visit her husband at the Governor Estate.
Jiang Kui fretted somewhat over Xie Wuyan’s meals there. Doubting repeated poisoning attempts made her wary of outside cuisines. Furthermore…she suspected the man of secretly indulging in forbidden chilled delicacies whenever she wasn’t present. After all, this was someone hankering to feast on frosted cakes immediately after recovering from mortal illness.
Utterly disregarding his own sickness while worrying everyone around him sick with anxiety over his condition instead. Yet also exploiting said illness to lazily shirk all government duties and evade the heir apparent’s responsibilities. Truly vexing behavior on all accounts.
Without bothering to send advance notice, Jiang Kui carried the basket herself when entering the estate. Lightly pushing open a side door to the main hall, she carefully stole inside ready to catch him unawares if he was currently skiving work again so she could fiercely haul him to task.
Treading softly over the bright square tiles, she silently materialized behind Xie Wuyan only to discover him perfectly properly seated before the desk gripping a writing brush. Head lowered focusing on the spread documents before him…for one fleeting moment she thought he was actually reviewing reports—then quickly realized he had dozed off instead!
He could even sleep sitting bolt upright with the brush dripping large blots onto the papers after slipping from his hand.
Jiang Kui circled around to his front and sat down scrutinizing him. Still completely dead to the world.
His cumbersome crown had been removed leaving only a rhino hairpin binding back the jet black tresses. The draped black fox pelt cloak had somehow slid off at some point, exposing crimson robes underneath outlining his wan tranquil sleeping face.
This resembled no noble crown prince but rather an ordinary commoner’s son yet to come of age, lazily catnapping amidst the dim evening lecture hall. Braziers crackling loudly in the background as boundless time trickled by this autumn afternoon.
Crimson dusk splashed over him, trailing his elongated shadow all the way to her feet.
Sighing deeply, Jiang Kui set down the food basket near him before stepping forth to rearrange the fallen cloak about his form again. He sensed movement amidst the rustling and stirred slightly but didn’t seem to want rousing from this catnap. Merely giving a muted cough, he lifted a palm loosely bracing his temple before gradually settling back into deeper slumber.
When leaving, Jiang Kui paused at the doorway glancing back at him once more. A light gust happened to blow past, fluttering both her dancing strands and his vermillion robes. Their silhouettes silently coalesced amidst the vibrant afterglow as if noiselessly entwining together, unable to separate.
Xie Wuyan’s eyes opened as he blurted out stunned, “My lady?”
Drowsiness still clinging, he blinked at her in lingering disorientation. Just barely awoken, the taut chord within his heart unexpectedly relaxed prompting a rare unfiltered comment, “I’m tired.”
Realizing his slip, he swiftly tacked on, “…Assuming Governor is truly difficult.”
“I’m aware. You’ve worked hard,” she gently replied.
Rare mutual admissions—he briefly complained while she rarely consoled.
Governor of Yong Prefecture was the tangible authority Prince Qi had coveted for years yet an obligation Xie Wuyan could no longer evade.
Chang’an contained two counties, Yong and Bian, for thousands of years with the Governor position highest above both county administrators. Overseeing every small or large city affair down to complex interweaving influences.
An extremely troublesome official post. Carelessness could easily disrupt powerful aristocratic interests, requiring endless tricky balancing acts akin to evenly applying plaster when building walls.
Often assumed by close princes or the heir apparent due to their esteemed status suppressing various domineering elite lineages. Assigning it to the heir forced developing governmental capabilities—competence in this role displayed foundational talents for future regency duties in most eyes. This “paved the eventual road to emperorship” for the crown prince.
Yet despite general ignorance…the prince himself clearly understood his father held no intentions of passing the throne to him in the future—a mutually comprehension between sire and son of the former’s unavoidably brief lifespan already concluded by imperial physicians.
As such, appointing the crown prince as Governor was merely pushing him onto the eye of the political storm as cannon fodder for his father’s blade and shield. This was the most critical position yet also most precarious, observed by all with myriad calculating eyes fixed upon it.
But such was the destined duty of an heir apparent.
Xie Wuyan had evaded for years until someone finally grasped his hand, forcibly tugging him ahead one step at a time.
“If you’re sleepy then take a nap,” Jiang Kui suggested. “We’ll return to the palace.”
“Very well,” he amiably replied.
Since then, he moved his bedding back beside her own again. When stars traversed the night sky, he would occasionally stir and turn to gaze upon the slumbering girl near him amidst the darkness.
Fast asleep, her cheeks flushed while long curled lashes drooped. Some light originated from afar spilling soft fragmented radiance all around her.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
The winds carried his voice falling by her ear.
Jiang Kui trained spearmanship for ten days straight. Rushing about without pause, mornings practice at the winery, afternoons handling Eastern Palace affairs, evenings rendezvous with Zhu Zi’an at the bookstore, deep nights enduring her shi fu’s ruthless drills. Exhaustion afterwards sent her directly face planting into bed the instant she returned to quarters without energy for even exchanging words with Xie Wuyan.
They went out together every morning. He to the Governor Estate, she to the East Wing Tower alley. One departing via palace gates, one scaling palace walls. Both broke fast simultaneously, exchanged brief farewells before immersing themselves in respective tasks until retiring late each night.
By the time Jiang Kui came back every evening, Xie Wuyan had already turned in. A platter of frosted flower cakes on the bedside table. An enameled glass lamp placed to the side with wavering illumination causing the sugar coatings to intermittently sparkle as if speckled by miniature stars.
She would sit eating the dessert before ablutions and sleep within the bedchamber, putting out the lamps. After tucking in the covers for the slumbering figure on the nearby pallet, she would flip over and instantly pass out atop the mattress. Indistinct wisps of fragrance drifted through her dreams from unknown origins.
This persisted until the tenth night right before the new moon. Heavens pitch black without moonlight, only occasional streams of stargleams.
Jiang Kui bound her spear entirely in hemp cloth, bundling it into a long rod tied across her back.
Xie Wuyan hadn’t returned yet. She left a scribbled note—“Won’t be back tonight”—before noiselessly pushing the window open and vaulting outside towards the prearranged eastern bookstore rendezvous.
Storyteller Liu Qinghe already awaited Jiang Kui’s arrival, opening up for her.
Hugging her weapon she clambered upstairs, flinging the door wide as stirred winds greeted her flashy appearance. Clear voice ringing loudly, “Zhu Zi’an!”
The man behind the partition was brewing tea, too lazy to bother with her. As usual he prepared two pots—one strong and one weak—movements neat and efficient despite wrapped fingers nimbly shifting about.
The recent cold snap necessitated burning coals within the chamber, mild swelter pervading. Floral tea fragrances emanated from his fingertips, seeping through the moderately heated walls alongside cozy warmth and traces of faint white plum.
Droplets slowly trickled into the cups, luminously reflecting the lamplight. Only then did he pause, glancing up at her with a chuckle. “Young miss Jiang, late again I see.”
“Humph.” She took residence opposite him but waved aside the offered tea. “No drinks tonight. We fight tomorrow so I want a good long sleep to conserve strength.”
The two hunkered side by side, spreading out the oft-reviewed plans for one final meticulous overview perusing every single detail.
Zhu Zi’an proved extremely attentive regarding this matter. Every step held appropriate assigned personnel with an ingenious counter scheme as ace against their enemies by the finale. Jiang Kui merely nodded along without objections, only indicating a few micro oversights occasionally.
By the time flames had nearly died out, Liu Qinghe ascended from downstairs replacing the old charcoal.
Amidst enveloping warmth Jiang Kui gradually grew sleepy. Listening to crackling embers with drooping eyes, weariness slowly mounted. Perhaps the brazier was overly sweltering for even mild tipsiness hit her.
The person beside her sat extremely close, head lowered in serious concentration. Occasionally halting his scribbling brush before resuming the scratching motions. When pondering he would lightly brace his chin with curled fingers beneath the tiny enameled lamp overhead, golden illumination silently spilling onto his facial features.
Lolling sideways she mumbled, “Zhu Zi’an, I’m exhausted.”
“Mm, I know,” the soft reply at her side.
“I want to nap a spell,” she languorously murmured.
“Mm,” he intoned. “I’ll wake you.”
That baritone was low and pleasing, resonating from his throat with gentle huskiness and tranquility.
She quietly asked, “…May I lean on you to sleep a bit?”
Author’s Note:
Reference: Shi Shi Xing Jing: “Four eunuch stars reside west of the imperial throne.” (Quoted from Tang Liudian)
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