Jiuhua Hall was the former palace of Empress Dowager Xiao until the end of the Jianning era, when the Xiao family lost favor due to involvement in a major case, and the entire clan moved back to their ancestral home in Lanling. Empress Dowager Xiao has since retreated to Jiming Temple and does not leave all year round.
Although they were close grandchildren, Lu Lingcong could barely recall seeing her a few times.
However, the palace attendants who had served her in those years all remained in Jiuhua Hall.
They were all seasoned and astute individuals, long accustomed to great upheavals. Hearing the commotion outside, they had already gathered, and by the time Lu Lingcong forced the main doors open, they had a fairly clear understanding of what had transpired.
To prevent fire, no candles were lit inside the hall when it was unoccupied. The only light source was a few threads of moonlight filtering through the window screens.
Lu Lingcong, who was carrying Xie Jing, rushed directly into the main hall, clearly having lost his composure, shouting, “Light the charcoal burners! No! Light the lamps first!”
The palace attendants outside exchanged glances. One of the older women then instructed, “Hurry up and go. A few more go inside the hall to take orders. This is an urgent matter.”
The eunuch beside her hesitated, whispering, “His Highness Prince Zhao speaks too lightly. His Majesty would not truly put him to death merely for forcing his way into the hall. But for us, if we fail in our duty to guard the gates, our heads could be taken off in an instant just like that.”
The older woman glanced at him and said coldly, “Have you rusted your brain here and can’t hear the rumors outside? Who in the palace or outside doesn’t know how much His Majesty values the Imperial Grandson? If we handle this well this time, there may even be a reward. But if we make even a single mistake, that’s when you’ll truly be the one to lose your head.”
Everyone agreed with her words and scattered to their tasks, quickly lighting lamps, heating water, and adding charcoal to the burners. In no time, Jiuhua Hall was brightly lit like daytime inside and out.
Lu Lingcong carefully placed Xie Jing onto the bed in the inner chamber. As he withdrew his arm from beneath him, the bloodstain on his sleeve made his heart pound heavily.
Fortunately, Yin Chou rushed in, still breathless. She took a quick look and immediately pushed him aside, saying, “Not much blood has come out, it’s not time yet. Looks like we’ll have to wait.”
Xie Jing slowly opened his eyes at this moment. His face was pale and weak, but his breathing was steadier than before; it seemed he was in a gap between contractions, temporarily catching his breath.
Lu Lingcong sat sideways on the footstool by the bed. Seeing Xie Jing’s fingertips stir faintly, he extended his hand. Xie Jing immediately took it, enclosing it between both palms; one above, one below, and drew it to the bedside, pressing it lightly against his own cheek.
The palm was completely sweaty. Lu Lingcong felt as if warm spring water were engulfing him, yet Xie Jing’s face was cold, “How do you feel?”
“I’m a bit sleepy,” Xie Jing said breathlessly. “I was about to go to sleep before I came to the palace.”
“Does it hurt badly?”
“It comes in waves like a rising tide. It’s better now.”
Yin Chou let down the bed curtains, “If the Princess Consort is sleepy, try to sleep for a bit and gather your strength. It will help later during labor.”
“We’re all here. Nothing is going wrong. Just sleep. If it hurts, you can pinch me or bite me, anything is fine.”
Xie Jing’s sleep was intermittent and restless. He occasionally frowned in his dream, and his neck was completely drenched in sweat, but he managed to sleep for almost two hours.
Yin Chou took off his outer robe while he was deeply asleep and gently lifted his inner clothes to check. The bamboo board had left a patch of bluish-purple bruised blood on his back shoulder. Lu Lingcong frowned immediately after seeing it. Yin Chou gently applied medicine to Xie Jing while briefly narrating what had happened at Linhai Palace.
After tossing and turning until around Yinshi[mfn]3-5AM.[/mfn], the pain finally overcame his sleepiness, and the gaps between contractions became shorter and shorter.
Xie Jing woke up in pain, his consciousness was hazy. He didn’t have the strength to shout, but only quietly, muttering, called out to people, like a mechanical and unconscious vent of pain, calling out to whoever he saw.
Because Lu Lingcong was guarding the bedside and taking up a large portion of his field of vision, he kept repeating the two syllables “Zifeng” over and over under his breath, each time interrupted by deep, hurried gasps.
The excessive warmth in the hall covered Lu Lingcong’s forehead with tiny beads of sweat. He leaned on his elbow by the pillow, unable to offer any other nice words. He just leaned close to Xie Jing’s ear and responded every time Xie Jing called his name, sometimes with comforting endearments like “good boy” or “sweetheart,” and sometimes just with a simple “I’m here.”
Imperial Physician Qin and a group of imperial physicians were waiting in the hall. Once the cervix was fully dilated, they allowed Xie Jing to start pushing, which completely drained the strength from his hands. Lu Lingcong saw Xie Jing’s long, slender, pale fingers trying to tighten around his own, yet the increasingly dense, sharp pain made it impossible for him to form a firm grip. In the end, his fingers could only tremble weakly, soft and powerless in Lu Lingcong’s palm.
In that instant, Lu Lingcong suddenly recalled what his mother had said—since Xie Jing had accepted this child, he had resolved to stay in Prince Zhao’s Mansion for life; he wouldn’t leave and couldn’t possibly leave either.
That pressure of being unable to repay such profound affection and devotion weighed heavily on Lu Lingcong like an invisible mountain suspended above his head, silent, stubborn, etched into his heart, leaving him at a loss, unsure of what he could possibly do to settle the various costs Xie Jing had paid for him.
Later, Xie Jing became completely exhausted. He could no longer even form full names when calling out. Caught between waking and sleeping, dazed and weakened, he could only faintly call for his mother in a broken voice.
Lu Lingcong recognized the sound of his words, raised his bloodshot eyes, and looked outside. There were signs of dawn breaking in the east. The news of Princess Consort Zhao going into labor had long been delivered to Wuyi Lane. The Xie’s Mansion must have spent the night in anxious sleeplessness, yet without an imperial edict, they could not enter the palace.
“Take my token to the Xie’s Mansion,” he turned and instructed a palace attendant behind him, “to bring Madam Xie and Lady Yao into the palace. If anyone at the palace gate tries to stop them, just tell them to carefully consider whether they can bear the consequences if anything happens to the Princess Consort.”
Xie Jing lost all concepts of time. Pushing had become an instinct. His vision blurred with involuntary tears, and his consciousness drifted into a haze. It seemed to him that his mother had truly been summoned by his thoughts, her cool hand gently wiping away his sweat-dampened hair as she softly replied, “Mother is here.”
His heart suddenly settled back into place. The pain, panic, and fatigue all seemed to fade away and dissipate with his mother’s touch. The tears at the corners of his eyes were wiped away, and his vision suddenly cleared. Lu Lingcong, his sister-in-law, Yin Chou, and many other figures were there. Outside the window, the faint morning sun glowed red like a fierce flame, spreading across the long sky above Taichu Palace.
When he opened his eyes again, it was already night once more. Xie Jing stared at the unfamiliar bed canopy for a full quarter of an hour before he managed to piece together all the fragments of last night, his spirit finally returning to his body.
He still felt the residual pain of childbirth, and the wound on his back shoulder was throbbing with a dull ache, but the feeling of lightness, like a great battle had been fought and a major task completed, was incomparable.
He finally took a moment to glance outside the curtains. The shadowy figure looked like a woman, so he naturally assumed, “Mother?”
The woman looked up upon hearing the sound and reached out to pull back the curtains. Xie Jing was momentarily stunned; it was Lady Wu, “Zhiwu, you have suffered.”
“Consort Mother,” he called out in a hoarse voice, pulling at the corner of his mouth self-consciously, “I thought it was my mother…”
“By palace rules, even noble women are not permitted to stay overnight in the forbidden palace. Madam Xie and your sister-in-law stayed up all night and watched over you here all day. They went back to rest when it got late,” Lady Wu explained to him in her usual kind tone. “Zifeng asked His Majesty, and he will send people to bring them back tomorrow morning to keep you company.”
Xie Jing nodded in agreement. Lady Wu helped him slowly sit up, “I heard all about what happened yesterday from Zhenzhen. Good child, it was hard on you to protect her. Does the wound on your shoulder still hurt badly?”
Xie Jing was a little embarrassed, “It’s nothing serious, Consort Mother; you are too kind. It was what I should have done.”
It was then, through the partially drawn bed curtains, that he saw a wooden cradle beside Lady Wu. Within the embroidered silk quilt, a small, red, wrinkled face was revealed, fast asleep and breathing steadily in deep, peaceful rest.
Xie Jing stared blankly for a moment. Being experienced, Lady Wu naturally understood his current overwhelming feeling. She handed him a small bowl from the food box on the table, “Don’t let your mouth be idle. Eat some porridge to line your stomach first.”
The porridge simmered slowly with chicken broth, enriched with ginseng and yam, soft, fragrant, and savory. Xie Jing knew it was made by Lu Lingcong the moment he smelled it. Lady Wu wanted to feed him, but Xie Jing quickly signaled that he was fine. He took it and ate small mouthfuls, his eyes unwilling to leave the cradle for even a second.
Lady Wu said kindly, “He is incredibly well-behaved. The wet nurse fed him right on time, and he just slept quietly. He only cried briefly around noon. Zifeng was watching over him then. He held him and soothed him a couple of times, and before we could even step in to help, the little ancestor fell asleep again. I was afraid the palace attendants might be clumsy and wake him up, so I sent them all away.”
Xie Jing put down the empty porridge bowl and cautiously reached his hand into the cradle. He crooked his finger and gently stroked the infant’s cheek just a little.
The sensation was like smooth silk flowing over his skin, bringing a joyful warmth and an eternal attachment. In that moment, Xie Jing felt enlightened like a lost sheep finding its way back or a devotee reaching enlightenment. He completely understood the kind of heart his own mother held when she had stroked him just a few hours earlier.
On the swaddling clothes lay a delicate and light object, which was the Hetian jade longevity lock Lu Lingcong had brought back after supervising work in Zhenping County. Xie Jing touched the engraved marks on the lock and asked, “Is he all right?”
“Because he was born early, he’s a bit small, but he’s very healthy. His cry is loud, and he’s strong. Do you want to try holding him?”
“I… I’m a little scared to.” Xie Jing’s words made both him and Lady Wu laugh.
“Never mind, wait until Zifeng returns and let him teach you. He was quite experienced holding Zhenzhen back then.”
Xie Jing’s gaze did not shift, but he asked the question he had been too shy to ask earlier, seemingly nonchalantly, “Where is His Highness?”
He remembered the entire process of last night. Lu Lingcong held his hand without letting go from beginning to end, constantly calling his name or responding to him, and later wiping him down with a hot towel. Xie Jing had expected to see him the moment he woke up.
Lady Wu smiled and shook her head, somewhat helplessly, “He’s still kneeling outside the hall right now.”
“Kneeling?” Xie Jing’s expression instantly changed. “Did His Majesty blame him for breaking into Jiuhua Hall last night? Or was it because he returned to the palace without permission and missed the ancestor worship ceremony?”
Lady Wu patted his knee reassuringly, “Don’t worry. Although he is kneeling, it’s not a genuine punishment. This afternoon, after His Majesty returned to the palace from the Northern Suburb Altar, he first came to Jiuhua Hall to see the Imperial Grandson. Zifeng then told His Majesty that he hoped to immediately establish the Imperial Grandson as the heir of Prince Zhao, to inherit the title and lineage.”
Xie Jing froze, suddenly remembering that a few months earlier, while in bed, he had made that “thank-you gift” request of Lu Lingcong: that the child be established as his heir immediately upon birth, and that the designation never be altered for as long as he lived.
Now Lu Lingcong has fulfilled his promise.
“After the Empress learned about it, she naturally had things to say by bringing up matters like breaking into the forbidden palace late at night and returning to the palace without permission. But His Majesty did not reject his request to establish the heir, which counts as suppressing the Empress’s side and not allowing her to interfere in this matter further. However, His Majesty is skilled in the art of political balance. He inevitably has to use the tactic of ‘a slap and a sweet date,’ which is why Zifeng is required to kneel outside the hall to reflect.”
Xie Jing certainly understood the implications. The mistakes Lu Lingcong committed last night, to put it mildly, were reckless impetuosity in an emergency. To put it severely, they were high treason. Now that the emperor had glossed over them with a minor punishment like kneeling, it meant that his son’s position as the heir was virtually set in stone, and the little one had genuinely gained his grandfather’s special favor.
In fact, Xie Jing harbored some doubts. He didn’t believe the emperor’s favorable treatment of this child was merely “grandparental affection” like his own father’s fondness for Xie Jun; there must be other reasons, but he couldn’t quite fathom them yet.
“Thank you, Consort Mother, for your efforts. You should also go back and rest early. Just let Yin Chou and the others keep watch.”
Lady Wu nodded, gave him a couple of instructions, and then leaned down to affectionately regard her grandson before summoning palace attendants to attend to them. She had only walked two steps when she paused, turned back, and said to Xie Jing, “Zhiwu, thank you for being willing to think of Zifeng in everything, and thank you for being willing to stay by his side.”
Xie Jing had thought that having slept all day, he wouldn’t be tired for a while. However, after excitedly watching his son by the cradle for a long time, he gradually became infected by the regular and steady rhythm of the baby’s breathing. He involuntarily rose and fell with the tiny body and slowly lulled himself into a doze.
In a haze, he felt someone covering him with a garment. Xie Jing instinctively raised his hand and grabbed a wrist, pulling the person close. He lifted his head from his elbow and met Lu Lingcong’s somewhat haggard face.
The two of them, one standing and one sitting, stared blankly at each other as though they were strangers. Though there was no “holding hands and gazing at each other through tears,” they remained silently face to face.
The heartstrings were taut throughout the night, the sudden change in status, and a vibrant, tangible little life connected to them by blood.
Xie Jing still felt as though he was in a dream. His mouth opened and closed several times, but he could not form coherent words. Too many thoughts surged up to his throat, and in the end, none of them could be spoken.
All sound seemed to fade away, leaving only the pounding of their two hearts within the stillness.
In that instant, Xie Jing met Lu Lingcong’s gaze and felt an indescribable emotion being reborn within him. What had once been a youthful, romantic infatuation now unfurled into tangible vines and leaves, taking root in his heart with a weight far heavier than mere “liking.”
Lu Lingcong leaned over, kissing him once on each slightly flushed cheek, but didn’t immediately pull back. He just stayed bent over as if waiting for something.
Xie Jing lowered his gaze slightly, lifted a hand to cup Lu Lingcong’s chin, tilting his face upward just a little, and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his lips.
Jiuhua Hall was strange and desolate to Xie Jing, but with his dearest and most beloved by his side at this moment, the cold palace structure was no longer intimidating.
A rustling sound came from the cradle. The little one had somehow woken up and was squirming restlessly. Xie Jing was startled and rushed forward, flustered. He reached out to hug the baby but was intimidated by the dough-like softness and could only turn his eyes toward Lu Lingcong for help.
Lu Lingcong only gave him an encouraging signal, watching as Xie Jing gently scooped up the swaddled baby by supporting the neck with one hand and cushioning the bottom with the other, holding the infant horizontally in his arms. His care was fully unconcealed, exceedingly even the gentleness one would reserve for a precious treasure. Then Xie Jing smiled faintly. It was the first time Lu Lingcong had seen him smile like that.
The sensation within his arms was like a fluffy cushion filled with goose down and also like a round hand warmer glowing hot. Xie Jing pressed his own face against the infant’s small face, feeling the warmth scorching him as if his heart were melting. Even when it completely dissolved and lost its shape, a few characters remained, reading, “I will never be separated from him.”
