Warm braziers and faint incense.
A ray of winter sunlight slanted in through the window, specks dancing amidst the beams.
When Xie Wuyang awoke, he saw a deep yellow dragon robe embroidered with shimmering golden qilins sparkling brightly under the sunshine.
The bedchamber carried lingering wisps of sandalwood incense, faint spirals of smoke drifting lazily about. The powerfully built middle-aged man stood silently within the haze, gazing down at him.
“Father Emperor…” He gave a few low coughs, levering up halfway before mustering his strength to straighten from the bed.
“No need for full courtesies,” Emperor Jing lightly pressed him back by the shoulder. “You were unconscious for most of the day. The imperial physician already came – he stated that accumulated injuries require quiet recuperation on your part.”
“You have my gratitude, Father Emperor,” murmured Xie Wuyang. Suppressing more coughs, he laid back down obediently. Clearly in awful shape, his complexion resembled parchment while profound exhaustion shadowed his features.
“Your royal brother has committed a terrible mistake and been demoted to become the Governor of Jian’nan. He departs for his new assignment immediately…” Emperor Jing related calmly. “Henceforth, barred from the capital without summons.”
“Father Emperor…” Xie Wuyang attempted faintly.
“No need for arguments. As emperor I have decided; as father I have decided,” asserted Emperor Jing in a low tone. “When you see him off, convey a message from me. His given name Yao symbolizes flawless jade. Yet jade too may contain hidden defects. Thus I granted him Wushuang as his style name – hoping he may one day complete that meaning to become a perfect gentleman. In the end, he failed to live up to expectations carried in that name.”
“This child obeys,” murmured Xie Wuyang deferentially.
Emperor Jing offered no more words. After ensuring Xie Wuyang was warmly tucked beneath the blankets, he gave his shoulder a comforting pat and exited the hall hands folded behind his back.
“Farewell, Father Emperor,” Xie Wuyang called softly after the retreating figure.
That stalwart back never turned, only halting briefly beneath the doorway to raise his eyes skyward, taking in the crystalline winter firmament above.
“You closely resemble your mother,” he uttered softly. “Seeing you often reminds me of her.”
“…Especially when you sleep.”
Xie Wuyang froze for an instant, gaze darting up searchingly toward his father’s face. But the trailing corner of those imperial yellow robes had already vanished past the entrance.
As the year edged into deepest winter, frost billowed thickly over the Ba River crossing.
Accompanied by Princess Consort Pei Yue, Qi King Xie Yao departed Chang’an heading westward through Shu on his way to assume the new post of Governor of Jian’nan.
A long train of horses and carriages progressed silently through the snowscape. Seated opposite one another inside the cabin, husband and wife kept their peace, wordlessly watching the scenery sweep by outside.
The banks of Ba River stretched bleak and wintry on both sides – chilling mists, bare willows trailing branches by the water’s edge, everything covered under a layer of salt-like snow. Desolate beauty met the eye.
Abruptly, approaching hoofbeats neared, accompanied by the crystalline sound of swaying beads. An imperial palanquin trimmed in gold and pearl rapidly drew closer through the flurries.
Xie Yao gave a derisive scoff and signaled for the convoy to halt. Disembarking slowly from his carriage, he strode toward the solitary figure waiting beneath a snow-mantled willow tree.
One side of the deep crimson robe had slid down to reveal an inner white fur lining. Seated quietly in a wooden wheelchair, the prince held a brazier in his lap while acashmere blanket lay draped loosely over his knees. Raising his eyes, he watched the other man approach.
“Royal brother,” he greeted with a respectful inclination of his body. Snow slipped soundlessly from the disturbed blanket folds.
“Xie Wuyang,” returned Xie Yao coldly. “Have you come to gloat at the sight of my wretched state? Or to kick me while I’m down?”
“I merely wished to see you off. This may well be our final farewell,” responded Xie Wuyang gently. Faint sorrow colored his soft tone.
His words jolted Xie Yao in startled realization. “That rumor…is true?”
“Yes. I will not live past twenty years of age, royal brother. Why go through such efforts to kill me?” Xie Wuyang gave a wan smile. “The crown prince’s seat originally belonged to you.”
He lowered his eyes. “It still remains rightfully yours.”
“Wuyang… All this time, you never told me…” murmured Xie Yao heavily.
“But I did try informing you before. You simply refused to believe,” countered Xie Wuyang, shaking his head lightly. “Far more than me, you take after Father in looks and temperament. Naturally he placed the greatest hopes on you. Ever since we were children, you outshone me in all matters – you just couldn’t accept that truth.”
“No matter what I accomplished, Father remained blind to it all…” Xie Yao uttered a soft, bitter laugh. “While everyone proclaimed you a sage ruler in the making…beloved by the people.”
Xie Wuyang contemplated the brazier cupped in his palms. “No one can truly attain the ideal of an enlightened monarch. I merely do my best.” He smiled gently. “You understand the intricacies of governance far better than me.”
“You were always the untainted, illustrious Crown Prince basking in glory,” declared Xie Yao flatly. “I merely lived in your shadow as the unfavored older brother denied affection.”
“Was Father Emperor’s past not similar?” Xie Wuyang responded delicately. “With my impending death…he would have named you heir. Yet you committed acts he has hated all his life. Thus he bid me relay how you’ve forsaken the meaning behind your very name.”
“I always viewed it as an insult, in truth,” admitted Xie Yao with a quiet chuckle.
“As did I, regarding my own name,” echoed Xie Wuyang, briefly sharing soft laughter with him.
“Royal brother,” he raised his head earnestly. “The road stretches long and arduous through these endless hills and waters. I wish you fortitude for the journey ahead.”
With a slight tip of his chin, he broke off a willow switch dusted in snowflakes and extended it to Xie Yao.
Xie Yao steadied his shoulder lightly in return, neatening the dislodged blanket before accepting the barren sprig of willow. Head bowed, he gripped it wordlessly for a long spell.
When he finally looked up, reluctance weighed his query. “Wuyang…is this truly the last we shall meet?”
“I’m afraid so. Perhaps you may catch another glimpse of me at my funeral, brother – whatever remains to be interred,” remarked Xie Wuyang. He attempted a faint smile.
Xie Yao studied the face of this younger sibling who had shadowed his entire life. “In truth, I never wished you dead to such an extent.”
“I know,” came the soft reply.
Thus the two princes parted ways beneath the snow-cloaked tree, each heading in opposite directions for eternity.
The sounds of departing hoofbeats and carriage wheels faded back into the wintry silence.
Beneath the tree, the lonely figure watched the convoy gradually vanish into distant white. Then he slowly shut his eyes without a word. The girl emerged from behind the tree and brushed the snowflakes from his shoulders, ensuring the fabric lay smooth once more.
“I’d assumed you hated him before. He did try to kill you, in the end,” she remarked candidly.
He gave a mild laugh. “As one condemned, I lack the energy still for hatred.”
At her stricken look, he amended gently, “Please don’t make me keep repeating that. It upsets you to hear.”
Pushing his wheelchair forward, she headed toward where their carriage awaited. “Let’s talk about something cheerful instead?”
Musing briefly, she suggested, “The lantern festival lasts three full days. Tonight marks the final revelries and we’ve likely missed them. How about we go view the lighting ceremony together next year?”
He kept his gaze downcast, falling silent for several moments. “…There will be no next year for me.”
She insisted stubbornly, “There will be. I’m certain of it.”
“Oh very well then,” he conceded, tone tinged with indulgent helplessness. “Next year it shall be.”
Glancing over his shoulder back at her, he asked lightly, “My lady, what would you like to see most at the lantern festival?”
“Hmm…” She tilted her head, pondering. “I want to admire the lantern displays, watch the acrobatics and puppet shows… Oh, I still need to float a flower lantern and buy that special red silk brocade from Shu!”
As she chattered animatedly, a stray wisp of hair over her forehead bobbed along. He couldn’t restrain an affectionate chuckle, impulsively reaching out to rumple those wayward strands.
With his palm still cradling her hair, she fell abruptly silent.
“Ah – apologies,” he hastily pulled his hand back. “I was just…brushing some snowflakes off.”
“It’s fine,” she mumbled, face still ducked self-consciously. “Go ahead if you want.”
He blinked bemusedly at this reaction. Her cheeks held a scalding blush trailing from face to clavicles. Just above the neckline, a sliver of flushed alabaster skin was visible.
Confused, he clarified hesitantly, “You seem…feverish? Does it feel uncomfortable?”
“I find it…” She admitted in a small voice. “Rather comfortable, actually.”
As an anxious afterthought, she quickly tacked on, “In any case, everyone gets to ruffle my hair. You being my husband means you can surely do the same.”
Unsure how to respond, he whispered back, “Then…may I?”
“Mm-hmm.” She planted her chin on his shoulder, eyes slipping shut contentedly like a cat’s.
He studied her side profile.
Her long curled lashes fanned alluringly when lowered, glinting faintly. Leaning in so close, her sweet subtle fragrance occasionally grazed his nose. He allowed his own eyes a brief flutter shut.
Then he reached out to gently stroke her hair. Lustrously dark and silken smooth, it was like sifting through rippling midnight waters – echoing deep resonances within his heart.
In the fading dusk, cradled by her embrace and lulled by the steady motion of her gait pushing the wheelchair through the soundless snowfall, he soon drifted into tranquil slumber. She secretly encircled him from behind with both arms, tenderly resting her cheek against his, focusing only on each shared breath between them.
“There will be such a year in our future,” she whispered steadfastly by his ear. “And many more still after that. You’ll see.”
In an abandoned annex hall near the palace’s northern wing, the eunuch supervisor Yu Zhao’en stood with hands tucked into sleeves before an ornate screen.
Sprawled lazily atop the dark zitan wood table just behind it, the black-haired young man casually flipped a copper coin, divining hexagrams to determine fortune and misfortune.
“How intriguing the recent divinations have been,” he mused, head lowered over the hexagrams. “It appears I misinterpreted matters. Instead of using Qi King’s hand to assassinate the Crown Prince, turns out I’m exploiting our esteemed heir to overthrow Qi King instead.”
“No matter. The outcome remains identical in the end,” he dismissed airily, grinning. “The mantis stalks the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind – our fisherman profits regardless in such conflicts.”
“With Qi King’s faction toppled, quite a few will shift their support toward the Crown Prince. Yet a fair number may choose continued neutrality as well, Your Highness,” remarked Yu Zhao’en heavily. “Now marks the critical opportunity to draw influential figures onto your side.”
“Naturally. I understand completely,” smiled Third Prince Xie Kuan expansively. Stretching his arms skyward, he gave a tremendous yawn. “Pretending ignorance for so long – the tedious boredom nearly drove me mad.”
“Based on our agreement, the Northern Command will render full assistance to Your Highness. Thus we hope for reciprocal compensation from you, my prince,” uttered Zhao’en measuredly. “There exists one urgent matter presently in need of your intervention.”
“Oh? And what might that be?” Xie Kuan glanced up, intrigued.
“This old subject once mentored an incompetent student, currently serving as provincial Governor of Huai Prefecture,” explained Zhao’en slowly. “He requires…discreet transportation of certain prohibited merchandise from Chang’an on to Huai Prefecture through the Grand Canal.”
“Say no more! I’ll make preparations at once and smooth over contacts along the route. Additionally, I’ll dispatch some jianghu drifters as escorts to guard the shipment,” Xie Kuan declared decisively.
With a loud clap, he tossed the coin back onto the table and casually rose to his feet. A gleeful grin of anticipation crossed his face as he passed through the partition. “This venerable ‘old codger’ remains rather curious whether a certain esteemed ‘Master Reed’ may intervene once more…”
The swaying candle flames threw restless shadows across the walls.
In the west wing chamber of the Eastern Palace, a young girl perched before a large copper mirror taking out her assorted hair ornaments. Unbound raven tresses cascaded freely about her figure, contrasting vividly with her snowy skin, crimson lips, and elegantly arched brows like tiny inked sickle blades. Utterly bereft of cosmetics, her beauty put the radiance of dawn against new-fallen snow to shame.
She had returned from the Ba River crossing late into the night. Upon awakening, Xie Wuyang claimed important business with Prince Wen and excused himself, abandoning her to this west chamber.
She gazed listlessly into the mirror, briefly alone and bored.
A window suddenly creaked open and a bamboo tube clattered loudly into the room, rolling to a stop by her feet.
The corners of her lips quirked up as she soundlessly bent to retrieve the container. Plucking out a thin sheet of wrinkled birch bark parchment, she unfolded it under the wavering candlelight against the tabletop.
The untidy scrawl read simply: “See you at the lantern festival tonight.”
Flipping it over: “Come out to play awhile.”
Unconsciously dear yet deliberately significant – very like that person’s unique style.
“Such a bother you are,” she grumbled under her breath, then laughed softly once more. “Truly a fool.”
Gathering the ink splash of her loose hair atop her head, the motion bared an expanse of slim alabaster neck. Forming a loose chignon, she slipped in a carved red jade hairpin, perfectly offsetting her striking features. The warm golden glow seemed to stain her cheeks a delicate, intoxicated flush.
Changing into a fitted red hunting tunic with a snowy sash accentuating her narrow waist, she took on the casual freedom of a common girl going out to enjoy festivities. Sprightly and bright as a butterfly unfurling its wings anew.
Pushing the window wide, she nimbly swung over the walls and slipped into the shimmering moonlight toward her clandestine assignation.
Before the Xianfu Gate in Chang’an’s western outskirts, fifty thousand lanterns hung arranged into sixty-five meter towering pillars that coalesced into a single resplendent, glowing tree formation. Draped in embroidered silk banners and gold ornaments, the structures played a majestic melody with each passing breeze.
The vibrant lights stretched over twenty kilometers down the broad avenue, glorious illumination as far as the eye could see. Drums and joyous tunes resounded amidst an ocean of music and chatter where the crowd had gathered.
Beneath the sea of stars in the heavens, the maiden gathered up her billowing skirt and set off through the bright lantern-lit streets illuminated under the hazy moonlight.
The one who awaited beneath the brilliant pillar of lights turned at her approach. Inundating radiance washed over his figure, limning a slender, noble silhouette in soft gold.
She quickened her pace toward him just as he pivoted about amidst the glowing splendor.
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