“In any case, big brother, you must restrain your grief.”
A fine drizzle misted the air as Prince Xin bent down to comfort Prince Jianping. In this fickle world, even eunuchs sized people up before serving them. An imperial son returning triumphant, yet with no one left to rely on, couldn’t even get a servant to hold an umbrella for him. Such desolation could only be truly felt by the one suffering it; others, at most, would laugh at the spectacle before moving on.
Prince Xin sought to console him as best he could:
“Call it a natural disaster, there’s no way to explain it clearly. Come, big brother, get up. Whatever grievances or sorrows you have, speak to Father. Kneeling here won’t change anything. It only invites people to cover their mouths and sneer.”
Prince Jianping lifted his gaze at him.
“A natural disaster? Two lives snuffed out in such muddled fashion, and you call it a natural disaster? I saw no disaster. What I saw was human malice. Don’t pretend to weep like a cat crying for a mouse. You and Huo Qingzhu share the same mother. You’ve always been on the same side. You think others don’t see the hands you’ve moved behind the scenes? Why else would the one sitting today as Empress be Zuo Zhaoyi? The Crown Prince commands the Ministry of Military Control, deliberately splashing filth onto Princess Xialing, that not enough? Did you have to scheme until their very lives were gone before you were satisfied? What sort of hearts do you have, to be so vicious?”
This was perhaps the difference between victors and loser’s their positions diverged, so naturally their feelings would as well.
What political struggle doesn’t cost lives? This isn’t some child’s game of make-believe; if someone survives, then inevitably someone else must die without a clear reason. For Prince Xin, the ultimate outcome of this power struggle hadn’t touched him personally. Once the storm subsided, he could stand safely ashore and watch the spectacle. Prince Jian’s anger directed at him was not without reason, but he could still play the role of the good man after all. he was nothing more than a powerless, idle prince.
He said:
“Big brother, you can’t put it like that. The Ministry of Military Control has nothing to do with me. True, we share the same mother, but once born, each of us grew our own way. Huo Qingzhu is the Crown Prince; I, Huo Qingfeng, am only a prince. Our stations were unequal from birth. In truth, our fates as brothers are no different. Who among us truly fares better?
And there’s something else, you’ve just returned, so you may not know. Today happens to be our second brother’s birthday. There’s a banquet in Yichun Palace in the northern quarter, and everyone from the Northern Palace attended. The Empress announced good news: she and her favored attendant both carry dragon heirs. Father is overjoyed at siring sons in his old age. Big brother, don’t you think it’s laughable?”
Laughable? To Prince Jianping, it was nothing less than a cruel twist of the knife. After traveling thousands of miles back, he found his two dearest ones gone forever, while others celebrated the birth of new life. Wasn’t Father said to love Princess Xialing most, to trust her above all? Then why, now that she was dead, could he still rejoice? A sovereign’s heart truly was cold and unyielding as iron. For his mother, he felt bitter injustice, twenty years of toil and suffering, all ended by a baseless charge, while Father went on to sire children with another.
On the rain-washed, spotless blue bricks, a human shadow slowly came into focus. The blurred features threw him into a daze. It was no longer himself. He clenched his fists, then slammed one hard against the ground. Blood streamed freely, yet he felt no pain. For a fleeting moment, he regretted being born into the imperial house, years of painstaking effort, all turned to ash in an instant. What had it all been for, in the end?
A fire burned in his chest, blazing hotter and hotter, as if it would tear through his flesh and consume his very bones. He endured, endured until his guts felt split, endured until a thousand arrows pierced his heart. He wanted to kill everyone in this palace, as an offering to the spirits of his mother and sister.
Beside him, Prince Xin sighed.
“Big brother, though we are not of the same mother, we still grew up together. Listen to your younger brother’s advice: the word ‘endure’ bears a blade above it. Pass through this trial, and there will be time to speak of what comes after. Don’t forget, your loss of composure is exactly what others delight in. You see the brothers before you, but those you cannot see are still in someone’s womb. You must think thrice before you act.”
He knew there was not a single good soul around him, no one who truly cared. Yet Prince Xin’s words were not without sense. His resolve to press forward was set, but for now, he must endure. Only by keeping the green hills could he hope for a chance to turn the tide. The Emperor now, an Emperor rejoicing at children born in his old age, likely cared little if he lost one more son. All his grief and struggle would be wasted effort, nothing more than a ready weapon for his political enemies to strike him down fatally at the crucial moment.
Pressing both fists against the ground, he pushed himself to his feet. Having knelt too long, his legs had no strength, and he staggered violently. Before he could fall, Prince Xin caught him just in time. He turned to look at him. The youth’s eyes were filled with complicated emotions. The carefree innocence of the past seemed lost forever.
In the end, a person must grow up; no one can remain innocent forever.
He pushed Prince Xin aside and strode toward the main hall. Entering that dazzling center of power, the clusters of lantern light wavered, dazzling his eyes. Seated high upon the dragon throne was the father he had once revered, squinting as he looked down at him. He bent his knees, dropped heavily to the ground, and pressed his forehead hard against the golden bricks.
“Your son has not shamed his mission. Victorious, I return to the Capital and have come especially to report to Father.”
The Emperor on the dais nodded again and again, praising him, yet uncertain what attitude he ought to take toward this son.
Everyone who lives carries their own helpless burdens. In these days when factional strife grows ever sharper, the time had come to decide whether to preserve the chariot or the general. As sovereign, he could not simply watch the governance of the realm be thrown into chaos. The unpleasant events that had occurred could not be dismissed as mere unpleasantness. After all, the aconite in his medicine jars, and the achyranthes root and nutmeg in the Crown Prince’s incense burner, those were real, tangible things. While Zuo Zhaoyi of the Left was alive, she had repeatedly petitioned to change the heir. Apparent that too was undeniable. Fact. He had always tried to balance all sides, but when matters spun further and further out of control, it was only for the sake of past affections that he had spared even his eldest son.
Yet why did guilt stir in his heart? Perhaps because, while all this transpired, this son had been far away defending the country on the battlefield. Then again, had he been present, he would not have escaped the same calamity. Thus, everything follows its destined course and no human effort can alter it.
The Emperor gradually regained his composure, resuming the lofty air of a sovereign father. He asked about the situation at the front lines and the losses suffered, then concluded:
“You have endured hardship on this long campaign. For now, return the tiger tally to the Privy Council and take some time to rest. As for the rest, we will speak of it later.”
What is most chilling? To return in triumph and find everything changed; to win great merit in battle only to have your military command stripped away. Not to speak of being granted a fief or title, he wasn’t even allowed to keep the troops who had followed him through life and death. Then what meaning is all his sacrifices?
His legs trembled, almost unable to support him. He had meant to endure it, but in the end the words burst forth:
“Father, what offense did my mother and Princess Xialing commit that they should meet such an end? I beg Father to make it clear.”
Disgust showed plainly on the Emperor’s face.
“You were far off on the frontier and likely don’t know the truth. That day, Princess Xialing came to the palace, asking me to arbitrate for her, because she had taken a fancy to another woman’s husband. I refused. Out of spite, she poisoned my medicine, nearly costing Me My life.”
He listened, nodding bitterly.
“Princess Xialing could indeed be reckless at times, but to say she sought to kill her own father, your son cannot believe it. Even if, taking a step back, the poison truly was hers, what of my mother? What crime had she committed?”
If the Emperor had felt any lingering guilt toward his eldest son, these sharp, pressing questions erased what little remained. Who else in the world dared confront him so? It was already a matter too painful to recall. why tear it open again, unless to deepen the wound?
The Emperor slapped the table and rose to his feet.
“Because your mother failed in raising her daughter, and in the end still sought to shield that unfilial girl, going so far as to try and frame Huo Qingzhu, clearing the way for you! From the time I was hidden as a dragon until today, more than twenty years have passed. What kind of courtly strife have I not seen? The scheming and rivalry among brothers happened at my very side as well.
I have always wished to tell you all this: to live quietly within your bounds is the true way to stand in the world. Do not try to overturn Heaven’s order. Whomever fate decrees to ascend the throne, that person cannot escape it, if it is yours, it will be yours sooner or later.
Over twenty years ago, in the battle for the throne, six of my ten brothers perished. The bloody lesson is right before your eyes. I once swore to myself that such a tragedy must not befall my sons. I have exhausted myself for your brothers, yet in the end. your hands still reach into My medicine bowl. Am I, alive as I am, already so despised by you all?”
The Emperor’s words fell like muffled thunder, oppressive, yet heavy as ten thousand weights, pressing down upon everyone’s heads. No one could remain standing; one by one. They knelt and kowtowed, begging His Majesty to calm his anger. Only Prince Jianping still stood there, trembling, swaying, and wailing with a cry like blood:
“Why did Father ever bring sons into this world? Your son regrets more than anything coming into this life, only to watch his dearest ones taken from him, one after another. The bone flute I carved for my mother, the little gray rabbit I brought for my sister, what am I to do with them now? They are both gone. In only half a year away from the capital, they are both gone…”
He staggered and stumbled out of the Hall of Supreme Harmony, rushing headlong into the pouring rain. Only when his figure vanished from sight did the others shake free from what felt like a dream.
The Crown Prince, seeing his father’s face turning ashen, hurried forward to support him.
“Elder Brother spoke rashly only because grief overwhelmed him. Father must not take it to heart. Your Majesty’s health is what matters most.”
The Emperor closed his eyes with a long sigh.
“It is my fault. All of it is my fault.”
He was, in the end, a soft-hearted ruler never as iron-blooded as his forebears. Always wishing to preserve balance, he had, without realizing it, wounded everyone.
And what words could possibly comfort such boundless sorrow? The Crown Prince, anxious for his father, grew all the more resentful toward Huo Qingzhu. He was not, by nature, a man who could not tolerate his brothers. But in the past ten years, ever since his mother, the Empress, fell ill. Until this very day, Zuo Zhaoyi and her son had never ceased their scheming. Was a Crown Prince’s title truly worth so much? If not for the fact that he had borne it since childhood, and that losing it meant certain death, he would gladly have yielded the throne to them, bound Su Xinghe to his side, and taken her wandering among mountains and rivers, leaving it all behind.
Yet no one could dismount the tiger. Everyone was riding the tiger, and everyone knew that once you let go, not even your bones would remain. So they had to keep fighting. He had to, Huo Qingzhu had to, the Su family had to.
“Allow me to escort Father back to rest,” he said softly. “Leave the rest to me. It is me, whom Qingzhu hates, let me go and offer him my apology.”
But the Emperor at once cut off his thought.
“This has nothing to do with you!”
Father and son departed together toward the Inner Court. Watching their retreating figures, Prince Xin suddenly felt a deep helplessness.
Now it was finally clear, wasn’t it? In Father’s heart, who counted as true flesh and blood, who was the one he could never cut off, never cast aside, the one he strove with all his strength to protect? It had always been the Crown Prince. It would forever be the Crown Prince. The words Father had once spoken to him and his brothers, cradling them after their mother’s passing, were now all proven by the way he favored his heir. Indeed, he had been loyal above all to this successor. In that, at least, he had been worthy of the Empress.
Turning back, he saw Prince Minxing still there.
“Third Brother, why don’t you stay in my Hall of Martial Virtue for tonight?”
Prince Minxing shook his head.
“No, my head aches. I’ll have to go home and find someone to cup it for me.” With his hands clasped behind his back, he walked away despondently toward the palace gates.
When the last of the courtiers had gone, Prince Xin glanced at the empty, gold-lacquered dragon throne. Even as one palace lamp after another went dark, it remained the brightest thing in the shadows. Power, it truly could unhinge the human mind. The closer one drew to it, the more swollen the heart became. He had seen too many life-and-death decrees: the gradual promotion of some minor official, the sudden downfall of a great clan, all traced back to the edicts issued from that narrow seat. His father was like a mirror: the greater imperial power became, the more it reflected his own smallness. That terrifying collision left him perpetually on edge, forever anxious about how the tides of the future might turn.
The instant he lifted his robe and stepped out of the hall, every lamp behind him went dark. The vast hall once again became a gaping tiger’s maw, striking fear into the heart. He quickened his pace away from the Hall of Supreme Harmony. A eunuch at his side held up an umbrella, but the damp mist blowing into his face still made him shiver.
When he reached the Hall of Governance, the Crown Prince happened to emerge from the inner chambers. He cast a glance past the carved doors of inlaid glass.
“Has Father retired?”
The Crown Prince nodded. “Everyone’s exhausted, and it’s getting late. You should go rest as well.”
As he spoke, he headed toward the outer gates of the hall. Prince Xin followed him a few steps.
“Brother, judging from Qingluan’s attitude, he won’t let this go easily. You must take care of yourself.”
The Crown Prince paused and looked back at him, his gaze gentle.
“I’ll be fine. That little trouble I can still handle. These next few days, keep Father company. It hasn’t been easy for him.”
Prince Xin inclined his head. Turning back, he saw Su Xinghe waiting under an umbrella at the palace gate. When the Crown Prince stepped out, the two walked away side by side.
Prince Xin let out a mocking laugh. Women, spineless, every last one. The Su clan now was reviled both inside and outside, all thanks to her mistress. In this struggle for the imperial throne, who could truly remain uninvolved? Who could claim innocence? In the end, it was all a matter of ability. Only the court arena would show the truth.
When he returned to the Hall of Martial Virtue, incense was burning inside, the water clock dripping steadily, a sharp contrast to the storm raging outside. Eunuchs attended him as he changed his clothes, and only after the time it takes to drink a cup of tea did he make his way to the sleeping chambers. Other men’s ladies-in-waiting, no matter how late, would wait upon their master’s return. But she had a heart as hard as stone.
Yinchen was curled up with a soft pillow, already fast asleep on the southern couch. Ever since she had come to the Hall of Martial Virtue, her only duty was to say one line before he retired: “Rest well, I’ll be going now.” With someone so negligent, no wonder the Eastern Palace didn’t want her and sent her off to him instead. Still, her family background was impressive. The Shangguan clan was filled with military officials, none of low rank. Had the Eastern Palace kept her and raised her to Crown Princess, then the Eastern faction would have been truly unassailable. Their father had done everything he could to strengthen the Crown Prince’s marriage ties, but alas, the Crown Prince had shown no appreciation.
He bent down and called softly:
“Attendant?”
She was in a dead sleep, unlike anything he’d seen, but her round, youthful face and rosy lips were undeniably charming.
He stood there, weighing the thought for a long time. At last, he let his hands fall, slipped her into the crook of his arm, and carefully lifted her up. Still l she showed no sign of waking, so he carried her into the inner chambers.
The attendants outside, seeing this, quietly shut the palace doors. Whatever happened afterward was none of their concern.
Tsk. The second day of the second month, when the dragon raises its head. It happened to coincide with the Festival of Flowers and the time of Awakening Insects. No wonder so many things had taken place in just one day. In truth, the weather hadn’t yet turned warm; the night carried fine threads of rain, stinging cold as they struck one’s face.
One of the guards tightened his collar and gave a satisfied shiver.
When, court was dismissed, the Crown Prince leaned against the doorway and teased her:
“I told you to go back, but you wouldn’t listen. Had to keep watch like a street vendor, eh? Now look at you, standing there till you’ve turned into this pitiful, shivering mess.”
She shot him a fierce glare.
“I already feel awful enough. Can you not make it worse for me?”
Just then, Dequan came in carrying a bowl of medicine. The prince took it from him casually, strolled inside, and set it down on the kang table.
“Want me to feed you?” he asked.
She blew her nose till it turned red and waved him off.
“No need. I can do it myself. Just stay away, or you’ll catch it too.”
The medicine tasted vile, but she forced herself to gulp it down. Once finished, she collapsed, groaning and writhing all over the kang.
The Crown Prince had been sick before, reached out and felt her forehead, burning hot.
“You’ve got a fever. Everything aches, doesn’t it? Want me to rub you down, head to toe?”
Would that really make her better? As if she didn’t know what he was scheming. She had to endure the pain and guard against his wandering hands. Pulling the quilt tighter around herself, she refused:
“No. Leave me alone. If I sleep awhile. I’ll be fine. You’ve got work at the yamen today, don’t you?”
The Crown Prince muttered a few complaints, about to swat her playfully, when Dequan’s voice came from the doorway:
“Attendant’s here…oh! What happened to your eyes?”
Hearing this, Su Xinghe hurried to push open the window. At one glance, her heart went cold, and Yinchen’s face was pale, her eyes swollen as if she had been crying. Su Xinghe quickly called her inside, then glanced at the Crown Prince. The Crown Prince made it clear he had no wish to involve himself in women’s affairs and turned to leave at once.
As Yinchen brushed past him, she didn’t even bother with a bow and went straight inside. He muttered inwardly, but since Su Xinghe was fond of her, he let it slide.
It had rained the night before, but the following day the weather was clear. Heading east in the morning light, as he passed beneath the lattice windows, he heard sobs from within, broken, muffled weeping, words barely discernible. He signaled to Dequan with a glance, ordering him to eavesdrop. Dequan at once obeyed, hunching his shoulders as he slipped into the west side hall.
Yinchen’s meaning was all too clear: she no longer wished to live and had come to bid farewell to her elder sister.
Su Xinghe was terrified, clutching her hand.
“What on earth happened? Tell me everything. Even if the sky falls, you still have me. We’ll think of a way together. what, hardship can’t be overcome?”
Yinchen choked on her sobs.
“It was last night… while I was half-asleep, Prince Xin carried me into his bed.”
Dequan, with his ear pressed against the door, clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. This silly girl, still just a child. Isn’t this a good thing? With that, the two of them have a proper connection. By tomorrow, they could petition His Majesty and have her made Princess.
But Yinchen wept bitterly.
“I didn’t want it. He forced himself on me. First, he tore at my clothes, then tied my hands with his belt…” She rolled up her sleeve to show, and there were two deep bruises across her arm, shocking to behold.
Su Xinghe’s heart sank. She took Yinchen’s hand and examined it, yet for a moment she didn’t know how to pass judgment on Prince Xin’s actions.
When young men and women are swept up in passion, it is natural to long for greater intimacy. When the Crown Prince had sent Yinchen to Prince Xin, it had been with the kindest of intentions, hoping to see them united. But all such developments should rest on mutual affection. Indeed, a lady-in-waiting must be prepared to receive her master’s favor at any time, but if she resists with all her strength, then as the master he ought to relent, at least preserving the dignity befitting a man. But this? Was it not simply brute force? She regretted, in that instant, ever listening to the Crown Prince and sending Yinchen to the Hall of Martial Virtue. If she had stayed in the Eastern Palace, such a thing would never have happened.
But how could she console her now? A young woman suffering such misfortune, no words could ease that pain. So she only asked gently:
“What do you think of Prince Xin now? After all… one night makes husband and wife. He will surely petition His Majesty to marry you as his Princess Empress.”
Yinchen only gave a cold laugh.
“If I truly followed him, it would only bring disaster one day. Prince Xin’s wolfish ambition. I’ve seen it with my own eyes in these past two months. When he turns ruthless, even kin he would dare to kill. In the end, you all would remain safe while I’d be cast aside, and my family dragged down with me… What fault of mine makes you despise me so, elder sister?”
Su Xinghe quickly said, “No, absolutely not, I didn’t mean it that way. I was only asking you. After all, in such matters… I’m an outsider; it isn’t my place to pass judgment.”
She paused, then asked again:
“What you said earlier about Prince Xin’s wolfish ambition was that true?”
Yinchen gave a low hum. “I’ll make a bargain with you. If you agree, then when the time comes, I can step forward and testify against him.”
That was not a bad offer. Prince Xin’s restlessness, surely, the Crown Prince had already sensed it as well. Su Xinghe said, “Very well. What are your terms? As long as it’s within my power, I’ll see it done for you.”
Yinchen’s gaze blazed as she seized Su Xinghe’s hand tightly.
“My condition is simple: wherever you marry in the future, take me with you. I won’t compete with you for affection in truth, the thought of men disgusts me now… I only want to stay by your side, to see you all my life. Will you promise me that?”
