Dawn mist and drizzling rain pattered between roof tiles.
A knock at the door startled Jiang Kui awake. Raising her head amidst the faint tea fragrance, the person beside her still slept.
Unable to rest last night, she had listlessly downed cups of tea until unknowingly dozing off on his shoulder. Waking now, she found herself covered by a military cloak. The man beside her sat leaning against the wall under the window, eyes lightly closed. His temple rested on the bookshelf edge, a scroll unfurled across his knees.
“Xiaoman,” came Bai Ying’s soft call from outside.
“I’m here,” Jiang Kui whispered back.
Getting to her feet, she spread the cloak over the sleeping figure and slipped out the door where the young girl awaited with lowered head. Rain misted her fair complexion, long hair half-obscuring her downcast expression.
“…I met Young Master Duan Shan,” she murmured. “He said there’s no need to attack the execution grounds anymore.”
Jiang Kui closed her eyes. “So all this time… Zhu Zi’an was waiting for his message.”
She realized softly, “…After leaving Supreme Court prison, eldest brother must have gone to Princess Chang’s estate. If he managed to persuade the Princess to aid our family then there would be no need to storm the grounds.”
“…Young Master doesn’t dare face you,” Bai Ying said wretchedly. “He asks that you act like he no longer exists… To leave prison alive, he faked suicide by claiming fear of punishment then had an acquaintance wrap and smuggle his ‘corpse’ out.”
She pressed her lips tight. “He says… though alive, he’s already dead. Branded a criminal beyond redemption…”
“He forbade me from saying anything else,” Bai Ying’s voice quavered slightly. “Only to convey that you should forget him.”
Jiang Kui fiercely clenched her hidden fist, nails biting into her palm. “…Very well.”
“I’ll take my leave then,” Bai Ying whispered hoarsely.
The petite girl’s shadow drifted into the rainy fog until out of sight, neither umbrella nor evasion from the dripping rain slowly soaking into her clothes, rolling off stained hems to splash on the ground.
Jiang Kui stood motionless at the door, gazing up at the gloomy scrap of sky amidst blurring mist. Feeble daylight filtered through clouds, soon swallowed by hazy moisture.
Fabric rustled within before measured footsteps approached to stop behind her. After a lengthy pause, a low murmur – “…Sorry.”
“It’s not your fault,” she said gently. “You did nothing wrong.”
“Boss!” A beggar sect member hurried into the yard, fist clasped towards Jiang Kui. “Word just arrived, around the hour of Tiger three-quarters past, they posted a new verdict on the boards!”
“Speak.”
“Death sentence pardoned and commuted to exile… Feng Prefecture!”
…Exile three thousand li away. *
Jiang Kui’s shoulders faintly trembled before the man behind her swiftly caught and supported her.
“This is good news actually,” she uttered hoarsely. “They’re still alive… so why can’t I feel happy?”
“Things will get better,” he assured gently. “Everything will come back.”
That day at dusk, chill sunlight in floating mist. Autumn tones at sunset.
Bitter cold at Ba River crossing. Jiang Kui in plain clothes traveled west of Chang’an to Ba Pavilion, seeing off an old friend with willow leaves plucked. *
Ba River originated from Zhong Mountains then flowed into Wei River, spanning three acres at its widest. Rippling over white sands, its winding course meandered on. A timber bridge spanned the waters. Beside it stood a timber pavilion. And by the pavilion, amidst the rain stood a lone withered willow.
Biting wind stirred. Jiang Kui broke willow twigs at the pavilion side. Xie Wuyang seated atop strummed his pipa strings. The tune was “Three Refrains of Yang Pass”, each line steeped in mournful lament like a grievance too deep for words. Its melody tragically desolate, tailing off thrice into the crisp evening gale. *
Not far behind them, a gilded phoenix carriage waited concealed by trees. The woman within Fine raiment watched the distant silhouettes crossing Ba Bridge and asked softly, “Duan Shan, won’t you see them off?”
The plainly dressed youth lightly shook his head.
“There’s no need,” he murmured. “We’ve already said farewell.”
He stood in silence for a spell before raising a carved jade flute to his lips. Its melody seemed to grieve, blending with the sorrowful pipa into sounds that pierced the hazy waters, drifting far along Ba River.
Jiang Kui abruptly glanced back but the flutist hid himself in the foliage.
Only a desolate northern wind stirred the swaying leaves and branches.
Creak and clop of wheels over stone. Whinny of mounts. This parting spanned three thousand li.
The day before winter solstice, sudden rain and plunging temperature heralded the coldest season in Chang’an.
After the southern suburbs ritual sacrifices, Crown Prince Xie brought Consort Jiang back to Eastern Palace then continued by carriage to the Han Yuan Hall for the palace banquet.
Five hundred paces from Vermillion Phoenix Gate, atop Dragon Head Ridge stood Han Yuan Hall. Twin jade staircases mounted either side of its terraced patio, the hundred-step stairway coiling dragon-like downwards. Regimented ranks of civil and military officials lined the stairs and forecourt, splendid and majestic.
Xie Wuyang shed his court regalia and changed into vermillion gauze robes and white jade crown. An extravagant sable cloak draped his shoulders, clasping a silver warming stove. He stood conversing pleasantly with the ministers. Jiang Kui accompanied him in gray ankle-length gown with fur-trimmed outer coat.
Emperor Xie had yet to arrive. Prince Wen and Crown Princess Xie were deep discussion with Princess Chang. Third Prince Xie Kuan sat alone before a chess table idly toying with game pieces out of boredom. In the shadowed curtains behind them, the toddler Fourth Prince Xie Chu napped in a wet nurse’s arms.
Consort Pei Yu gracefully approached on King Qi Xie Zhen’s arm, red lips curved in a subtle smile. Xie Wuyang brought Jiang Kui up to perform the seasonal greetings. “As days grow long past solstice, may you both enjoy fortune and blessings.”
“Dear sister,” Consort Pei turned to Jiang Kui after the formalities, warm concern on her features. “I heard you’ve been ill for days now. Feeling any better today?”
“Many thanks for your kind thoughts, sister,” Jiang Kui pretended to cough weakly as she sank into Xie Wuyang’s embrace, peering up at him through her lashes with a tiny laugh. “Such cold weather nowadays… Do take care not to catch chill yourself, sister.”
Barely concealed hostility charged the space between both couples, conducted under exquisite manners and intimate appearances.
After customary well-wishes were exchanged alongside some idle remarks, King Qi expressed much fretful care over his younger brother’s poor health – first suspecting burdens from his new provincial governorship then claiming to have obtained some precious caterpillar fungus soon to be delivered alongside the seasonal tributes to Eastern Palace. Xie Wuyang smoothly accepted it all with a grateful smile.
Soon after Qi Wang and Consort Pei departed, Jiang Kui straightened in Xie Wuyang’s arms and icily watched their retreat. “For the case against my family, King Qi exerted quite a bit of backdoor pressure, didn’t he?”
“Mm,” Xie Wuyang lowered his voice. “He has blackmail material over a number of ministers and censors. Enough clout to coerce joint impeachment statements against political enemies, framing the innocent if needed.”
He added grimly, “I had no wish to contend with my royal brother. However… by scheming with eunuchs of the Northern Offices to defame guiltless officials, deceiving our lord father and distorting the realm for selfish gain…”
“I will topple King Qi’s faction without fail.” A chilling edge entered his gaze.
The master of ceremonies loudly heralded the emperor’s arrival. The crown prince led all officials in greeting as waves of billowing sleeves rippled through the assembly in unison.
Amidst the lively festivities of music, wine, and dance… Jiang Kui accompanied Xie Wuyang to the seats just below the imperial dais, overlooking endless pools of embroidered silken splendor and assembled delegates from every nation. Beneath the carved ceiling, an opened window framed wintry Zhong Mountains while the sprawling streets and wards of the capital city spread below. Winding lane upon lane densely built along sloping avenues… the sheer expansive scale momentarily overwhelmed the eye.
She suddenly recalled his question from so long ago… “Do you believe in eras of peace and prosperity?” *
Amidst drums and horns, she turned to the man beside her, gazing up at the distant mountains, their peaks disappearing behind veils of stars with the rest of Chang’an still illuminated under crystal skies. *
The banquet gradually wound down, tunes turning gentle and sedate. Jiang Kui idly sipped her wine beside Xie Wuyang, attention caught by the performers dancing in the middle of the hall.
She froze.
Among the hundred entertainers, one man in snowy robes moved with transcendent grace. A carved jade transverse flute raised to his lips as he played an ancient melody.
The flute’s distant and desolate notes harmonized with the sedate, archaic tempo. Like a lone wild goose crossing a wasteland, imbued with bleak autumn sentiment. *
Staring fixedly, she failed to recognize those features yet something inherently familiar lurked within the music…
“Eldest brother,” she uttered under her breath. Questioning a palace attendant, she was told: “He’s a new musician under Princess Chang’s employ. His sublime mastery of the horizontal flute earned him a place among today’s performing troupe. No one knows his name. Only that he hails from the north with the surname Bai.” *
Her chest constricted painfully.
“Xie Wuyang,” she asked the man beside her. “Helping my eldest brother fake his death and leave prison for the Princess’ estate… that was your doing?”
“It was,” Xie Wuyang averted his gaze.
That stormy day, he had witnessed with his own eyes the man delivered to death’s door within his cell – meridians shattered and vital breath failing, wrapped in coarse hemp and dumped onto the mass grave mound festering outside the city. *
Xie Wuyang hauled the bloodied figure from the corpses. Watched him stagger step by step in crimson tracks to kneel before Princess Chang’s gates, abasing past name and pride into the mud.
An old friend’s child kneeling drenched red in old blood and new… Princess Chang finally took pity.
After that day, he had personally assisted in altering that man’s face. The young general vanished, leaving only a minstrel selling his art.
“He said that should we meet again someday… pretend not to recognize him,” Xie Wuyang closed his eyes. “Jiang Duan Shan is gone.”
“…I see.” Jiang Kui’s voice faintly wavered.
After the winter solstice banquet, colorful lanterns blossomed under the deepening dusk.
Within her dimly-lit bedchambers, Jiang Kui lit a lone oil lamp and sat alone amidst its funereal glow. *
By tradition, the solstice signifies the return of light and hope. Marking the gradual lengthening of days towards spring – eighty-one stretches of bitter chill remain before nature’s renewal. Such an occasion called for new garb, reverent offerings to ancestors and winter deities, liberal drinking and glutinous rice dumplings… to fete the turning of seasons. *
Yet all who should accompany her in celebration had gone too far away.
The lozenge windows abruptly creaked open. An icy draft stirred paper rustling over the table.
Something wooden clattered loudly to the floor and rolled up to her – a small bamboo cylinder. Jiang Kui retrieved the tube and extracted a slip of mulberry paper scrawled with a few words:
“Drum Tower wineshop.”
She hastily changed into a dark green fighting tunic and donned a woven bamboo hat, stealing over the palace wall into West Market.
Moonbeams dappled the paved streets as she wove through their luminous patches towards the Drum Tower tavern, warmth and noise billowing forth as she pushed open the wooden doors – pipe smoke and the drone of crowds, underlain by the rich aroma of steaming glutinous rice balls. *
Conversations and offkey singing filled the spacious interior alongside many deeply drunk. Men and women crowded together, toasting heartily as ceramic cups clinked between them, fragrant wine splashing everywhere.
A slender foreign songstress sat strumming a lute, trilling the melody of “Number Nine” – her quick supple fingers plucking an almost springtime rainshower, its chipper vulgar folk tune never failing to lift the spirit. *
Navigating through stumbling patrons, Jiang Kui crossed over to a small corner table before the back window where a lone man sat with a bottle, wholly absorbed in solitary drinking.
He wore a pitch black military cloak, hood drawn completely over his head to shadow facial features.
In front laid rice dumplings and a flask of heated wine – the potent liquor stored and warmed in nested containers. *
Jiang Kui took the seat opposite him. He raised his head to nudge the dumplings towards her, tone lazy. “Sir Jiang, care to sample the fare?”
Candlelight revealed the concealed face under shadow as he tilted his head to watch her, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips.
“An urgent matter with me you said?” She didn’t touch the food, only pouring herself some wine.
“Ah.” He nodded. “We need to head out into the city.”
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