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After a month of arduous travel, the season had already turned to summer by the time they reached the borders of Chenliu Commandery. While space in Wuyi Lane was worth its weight in gold and had to be shared with other noble clans, the Xie family’s ancestral home was far from cramped. The vast, magnificent estate alone spanned hundreds of acres, not to mention the extensive holdings stretching far beyond its outer bounds.
Xie Jing had lived deep within the inner courtyards since childhood and had been away from home for five years; he found himself so confused by the terrain that he eventually had to ask a tenant farmer for directions.
As dusk fell and farmers made their way home with hoes slung over their shoulders, they cast appraising looks at the unfamiliar travelers. Xie Jing lifted the carriage curtain and stared outside for a long moment. Suddenly, Lu Shuqing slipped out from beneath his arm, first tipping his face up with curiosity to study Xie Jing’s expression, then turning to follow the direction of his gaze.
At the far edge of the horizon stood rows of towering poplars, a full crimson sun hanging poised among them. Their stark, desolate crowns seemed to spear into the sinking orb, while torrents of blood-red light cascaded downward, startling the dusk crows into scattering in every direction.
Lu Shuqing had never seen such a landscape in his life. From a distant temple came the muffled sound of the evening drum; it was ancient, simple, and profound, much like the rivers and mountains of the Central Plains.
Xie Jing lifted Lu Shuqing up to sit on the carriage shaft before pointing at him, “This is the place where Mother grew up.”
Lu Lingcong studied the outer walls of each courtyard they passed and suddenly commented, “Hasn’t this been repaired in years?”
Xie Jing nodded. “It was like this when I was a child. The bricks and tiles are all old.”
Lu Lingcong had clearly noticed it as well. Although his mother’s clan, the Wu family, was not a distinguished noble house and perhaps didn’t secure the most coveted plots when buying land, they had spared no expense in building their estate. Naturally, they would never allow a situation of “splendid on the outside but crumbling within” to occur.
“Is it because the funds for renovation haven’t been agreed upon?”
From the subtext of Lu Lingcong’s words, he clearly intended to pay for it himself. Xie Jing had a general idea of Prince Zhao’s finances; while this sum was nothing significant, there was absolutely no reason to let Lu Lingcong foot the bill.
“It’s not about the fund. It’s because many clansmen have moved out to establish their own households, so fewer people live in the estate. But you reminded me; even if no one lived here at all, this ancestral property could never be sold. I’ll notify my father after returning to the capital, and he will naturally provide the funds to arrange it.”
At this, Xie Jing glanced sideways at Lu Lingcong and teased, “Why are you like those wealthy playboys in the operas? Whatever happens, your first instinct is always to throw wealth at it.”
Lu Lingcong also smiled. “I call it planning ahead. You see, having a capable maternal family has helped me so much, and now that Emperor Father has given me such a good in-law, of course I need to keep them in my good graces, just in case I ever need them.”
Though spoken in jest, there was truth to his words. Since the emperor’s marriage decree was intended to “force the Xie family into the fray and add weight to Prince Zhao’s faction,” choosing the Xie clan; whose ancestral seat was in Chenliu, was likely because its proximity to Lu Lingcong’s fief in Luoyi made their interests intertwined, making it easier to forge a bond as close as branches from the same tree.
The members of the Xie clan had already received words and were waiting outside the main entrance of the primary residence. Years ago, when Xie Jing left home for the south, he was merely a junior descendant of this massive clan; at most, someone who brought honor to the family name. But returning today, he was royalty who required the kowtows of both his elders and peers. Even if Lu Lingcong had not accompanied him, Xie Jing’s status as Princess Consort Zhao had already created an unbridgeable chasm between him and his clansmen. Such a “homecoming in glory” was truly a thing of bittersweet irony.
After his grandparents passed away, Xie Jing no longer had any particularly close blood relatives in Chenliu, so there were few old memories to revisit. After half a day of cordial exchanges, a date was set for the clan to convene at the ancestral hall to handle official matters.
“Which way?” After dinner, Lu Lingcong stood outside the hall and turned to speak to Xie Jing, who appeared lost in thought. Though the servants could have easily guided him, none dared move or speak, seeing the Princess Consort standing there, frozen in place.
Most of the old servants from years ago were gone. Xie Jing hadn’t recognized a single familiar face during the meal and felt momentarily dazed; it wasn’t until he saw the corridor leading to the courtyard where he had lived since childhood that he felt a faint, tangible sense of having returned home.
He looked back at the hall. “This hall was where the tutor examined us in the old days. I would line up with a group of clan brothers to recite texts one by one. Once we passed, we had to go to my grandfather’s study and recite them again for him… My bedroom is to the west. I don’t know if it’s still there.”
A servant finally chimed in with lowered eyes. “It is, Princess Consort. The inner chambers and the warming room have been tidied up, and the bedding was replaced with brand-new sets early this morning.”
Xie Jing was somewhat incoherent and was struggling to find his words when he heard Lu Lingcong seize the opportunity to whisper playfully to Lu Shuqing, “Did you hear that? Terrifying. Reciting the same text over and over for rounds. I don’t have the final say in these things; if your mother decides to do the same to you in the future, I’ll be helpless. But don’t worry, I’m always on your side…”
“Enough!” Xie Jing struck Lu Lingcong, caught between laughter and tears, and the tension that had held his face all evening finally melted away.
What he hadn’t expected was that the servant’s claim of the room being “left as it was” held a much deeper meaning—the decor, the furnishings, and the layout of his old residence had not changed in the slightest. Even the book he had picked up to read on a whim the night before he left home remained face down on the desk. The pages were spotless, clearly wiped daily as if he had merely stepped out into the courtyard for a stroll while the tea in his cup was still warm, and the loved ones truly existing beside him were but a grand dream he had been dreaming for five years.
Xie Jing’s heart suddenly felt a bit lighter, and he let out a long breath. He had been anxiously worrying that his trip would be “imposing” on his elders and kinsmen, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Even if it still felt somewhat unfamiliar, this estate called Xie had, in the end, recognized and embraced him as one of its own.
Meanwhile, Lu Lingcong’s gaze was completely drawn to the scrolls on the wall. They were all calligraphy and paintings by Xie Jing, rendered in a Quxia style that had yet to fully mature. Seeing him reach out to take them down, Xie Jing quickly stopped him. “What are you doing?”
“Taking them back with me,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Authentic works by Princess Consort Zhao may be rare, but one or two can still be found in the mansions of powerful officials. These, however, are genuine, one-of-a-kind pieces by Young Master Xie. Shouldn’t I display them at home and treasure them? What, are you going to charge me?”
Xie Jing was speechless and could only shake his head.
“Then that settles it.” Lu Lingcong turned and gave orders as if he were the master of the house. “Collect all of these, wrap them carefully, and pack them into the trunks.”
Exhausted from the journey, Lu Shuqing had settled down early in the warming room; he wasn’t one to be fussy about a strange bed and fell asleep before Xie Jing could even coax him. A Northern summer was not as stiflingly humid as Jinling’s; once the sun set, the heat dissipated. When Xie Jing returned to the inner chamber, Lu Lingcong had just bathed and was reclining by the window to enjoy the cool air. He looked up as Xie Jing entered, staring in astonishment. “Where did those clothes come from?”
“They’re clothes I wore when I was young. I just wanted to find them so Qing’er could see them, but then I realized they didn’t seem too small, so I put them on to show you.” Xie Jing’s nightshirt hung open at the chest, revealing the close-fitting ruanfu, commonly called a doudu[mfn]“Dudou”, or bellyband, is a piece of cloth that covers one’s belly. It dates back thousands of years. It was used by Chinese women as an undergarment in ancient times and can be considered China’s most original underwear.[/mfn]. Although this type of undergarment wasn’t worn exclusively by boys or girls, Xie Jing had never worn one since his marriage, always using a standard inner garment instead.
Lu Lingcong stared at him fixedly for a long while. Suddenly, he reached inside the night robe and discovered that the fabric on the back indeed consisted of nothing more than two thin silk ties.
“…I’ve lost to you.” Lu Lingcong was clearly dumbfounded by him; his hand was already inside, yet he had forgotten how to move.
Xie Jing found it funny. “My clothes and trousers are still perfectly on, and you’re admitting defeat already?”
He backed away about a foot from Lu Lingcong’s embrace and shed his thin shirt, only to drape it over his back. As he bent forward, his defined collarbones and lean forearms came into view. His long hair lay strewn between them, the stark contrast of black and white making the undergarment appear all the more striking.
Lu Lingcong had already grasped Xie Jing’s intentions. With a hint of resignation, he thought: who would ever associate the chest of scrolls outside with the dissolute hunter standing before him? Even if those people spent a thousand pieces of gold for a single piece of Xie Jing’s calligraphy, it was nothing more than a mundane object found anywhere in his Prince Zhao’s Mansion. The most important thing was that the person belonged to him, and this appearance was for his eyes only.
…
