LC chapter 9

 

Lin Ruan came down the stairs and gave Zhan Xi the document folder. Zhan Xi took it and placed it beside him without opening it.

Lin Ruan noticed Xie Qingming staring at him with an odd expression. His brow furrowed and a look of confusion crossed his face.

Zhan Xi lifted his teacup, took a sip, and asked, “Did you come for another reason?”

Xie Qingming withdrew his gaze. “One more thing—I heard you brought back an entire fleet’s worth of goods from overseas.”

Lin Ruan looked at Xie Qingming, surprised. Surely this young Master Xie wasn’t after the arms as well?

Zhan Xi had likely picked up on the implication in that remark. He regarded Xie Qingming with a half-smile, half-sneer. “What exactly do you want?”

“Don’t misunderstand. I don’t want your goods.” Xie Qingming clarified. “I just wanted to ask if you brought back anything of interest to me this time.”

Xie Qingming and his father treasured antiques above all else and grieved deeply over those lost abroad. Zhan Xi was wealthy and held a unique position. Having spent so many years overseas, it was impossible that he hadn’t collected such items.

Zhan Xi looked at Xie Qingming and slowly nodded.

Xie Qingming suddenly became agitated. “Really? How many?”

“A whole shipful,” Zhan Xi replied. “Most of them are items that flowed out of the imperial palace and gardens back then. Some are damaged, but I brought those back, too.”

“I can help you restore them! I can help you authenticate them!” Xie Qingming coughed excitedly, a flush of color returning to his pale face.

His attendant hurriedly fetched medicine to give to him.

Zhan Xi watched Xie Qingming gradually calm down. “It was precisely because of your health that I didn’t tell you. Antique restoration is a labor-intensive endeavor…”

“I can do it!” Xie Qingming cut him off. “In all of Beijing, no one’s craftsmanship surpasses mine—except for my father’s!”

Xie Qingming stared directly at Zhan Xi, his eyes burning with such conviction that even Lin Ruan was moved.

After a moment of silence, Zhan Xi gave in.

Xie Qingming burst into laughter like a flower blooming suddenly in the dead of winter, radiating an indescribable vitality.

Zhan Xi handed Xie Qingming the document folder that Lin Ruan had retrieved. “This contains the inventory. The items have already been unloaded from the ship and should arrive in Beijing no later than two days from now. I’ll take you to see them then.”

Xie Qingming took the folder, his gaze toward Zhan Xi tinged with surprise. He’d assumed the folder was merely an excuse to distract Lin Ruan, yet…

“The moment you walked in, I knew what you intended,” Zhan Xi said calmly. “But I must still tell you: the items are lifeless. They cannot compare to your own body. If anything happens to you, I won’t be able to answer to the Master.”

Xie Qingming stared at the folder in silence for a moment before replying, “The items themselves aren’t important. But their significance is. If my father knew, he would support me.”

Xie Qingming took his leave. Lin Ruan watched him leave, a hint of confusion in his eyes.

“What are you thinking?” Zhan Xi asked.

“I’m wondering,” Lin Ruan replied. “Is there truly anything more important than life itself?”

Zhan Xi lifted his teacup and traced the patterns on its surface. “That was his choice.”

Lin Ruan nodded, half-understanding. He still didn’t grasp it, but he envied Xie Qingming for being able to make his own choices and knowing what to do.

“I wish I could choose like that one day.”

Zhan Xi looked at Lin Ruan. Afternoon light streamed through the window and fell on his face. From a certain angle, he actually looked somewhat gentle.

Lin Ruan expected Zhan Xi to say something, but he said nothing. He simply stood up and handed Lin Ruan a box.

Lin Ruan opened the box. Inside was the fake, lilac-glazed, lotus-leaf bowl. He touched it lightly. It felt icy cold, evoking a strange sensation.

“Does Young Master Xie not want it anymore?” Lin Ruan asked.

“It’s a fake,” Zhan Xi replied.

“But Young Master Xie said this thing was exquisitely made.”

Zhan Xi glanced at the lotus-leaf bowl. “The true value of originals lies in the spirit and meaning imbued by those who came before. Through the passage of history, they preserve that essence. A forgery is merely an empty vessel.”

With that, Zhan Xi ascended the stairs.

Lin Ruan ran his fingers over the porcelain’s surface and felt something profound. He thought to himself that this piece certainly held meaning, too.

On the twenty-eighth day of the lunar month, the palace sent another invitation. This time, Zhan Xi accepted and led Tong Boxing and Lin Ruan back to the palace.

They planned to stay for a while, leaving on the 16th day of the first lunar month. However, these stays became shorter and shorter. One year, Zhan Xi led his people away just after the first day of the first lunar month.

Zhan Xi rarely wore a suit when he returned to the palace. This time was no exception; he wore a dark blue robe with a slanted collar and gold embroidery. The smooth material fell vertically, accentuating Zhan Xi’s tall, slender figure.

He lowered his head to adjust his cuffs, exuding an air of effortless nobility. When he wore a Western suit, he appeared much more reserved. In this robe, however, his nobility was unmasked, as if he were returning to the prince’s mansion where everyone would kneel to pay their respects.

Lin Ruan also wore a long robe like Zhan Xi’s, but he lacked Zhan Xi’s imposing presence. Though both were made of fine fabric, it was clear that one was the master and the other the attendant.

Shi Ning drove with Uncle Tong in the passenger seat and Zhan Xi and Lin Ruan in the back. Lin Ruan disliked returning to the mansion, and his gaze out the window always carried an unmistakable hint of anxiety.

The carriage halted before the mansion’s entrance. The massive red-lacquered gates dwarfed everything around them. The steps were steep and the mounting stones were imposing. Two stone lions with fierce expressions guarded the entrance.

Spotting Zhan Xi’s arrival, the gatekeeper hurried off to report while simultaneously opening the gates.

Lin Ruan followed Zhan Xi off the carriage. Layers of snow still clung to the eaves, and icicles over a meter long dangled beneath them. Tong Bo’s brow furrowed at first sight. Even the front door hadn’t been cleaned properly. The palace was truly getting worse year by year.

Golden tassels on Zhan Xi’s cloak glinted in the light as he strode unhurriedly through the gate, with Lin Ruan close behind.

The moment they entered, the mansion’s steward arrived with attendants. They halted before Zhan Xi and knelt in unison to pay their respects—a sight seldom seen outside these walls.

“Rise,” Zhan Xi said in a cool tone.

The steward rose and stepped back slightly to position himself beside Zhan Xi.

Zhan Xi continued forward and entered the main hall of the mansion through the gate. The hall itself comprised seven chambers, with nine more in each of the side wings. A stone balustrade encircled the front courtyard, which was paved with neatly arranged gray stone tiles. Courtyards lay to the east and west of the hall and housed residences, storerooms, and an opera stage.

The mansion bustled with maids and servants. The maids wore pink or blue qipao[mfn]qipao = a slim, elegant Chinese dress, often made of silk or brocade, worn for both daily fashion (historically) and formal occasions today.[/mfn] and had their hair braided into a single ponytail at the nape of their neck. As the New Year approached, each maid wore a red, floral hairpin. They moved with quiet, light footsteps, their heads bowed low, concealing their features. Wherever Zhan Xi passed, the maids knelt along the path.

Lin Ruan followed behind Zhan Xi, sensing an oddly inappropriate sense of humor.

Zhan Xi first paid his respects to the late prince and his consort. The ancestral hall housed numerous spirit tablets, the earliest of which dated back to the Qing dynasty. Incense burned before each tablet, filling the hall with smoke.

As the legitimate heir, Zhan Xi was duty-bound to care for these tablets. Yet, he never touched them, returning only each year to offer incense to the prince and consort. Though disapproving, Uncle Tong dared not defy Zhan Xi, so he took on this responsibility himself. Each time, he first apologized to the Prince and his Consort before cleaning, treating the task as a privilege.

After Zhan Xi paid his respects, the steward finally dared to speak. “The secondary concubines have been waiting for quite some time.”

The secondary concubines gathered in the eastern annex hall—one of the few times each year they could leave the inner courtyard. Strict palace rules prohibited boys over three years old from entering the inner quarters, which made access impossible for Zhan Xi. Thus, he met the secondary concubines at the eastern annex hall.

Maids stood guard at the entrance. As Zhan Xi approached, they lifted the cotton curtain. Lin Ruan followed him inside and found the hall filled with people sitting in complete silence.

Seated at the head of the room were two secondary concubines, both of advanced age. They wore Manchu robes[mfn]Manchu robe refers to the traditional clothing worn by the Manchu people (the ruling ethnic group of the Qing dynasty, 1644–1911.[/mfn] and had their hair styled in traditional Manchu buns adorned with jewels and ornaments that still shimmered with golden splendor. Concubine Li sat to the left, and Concubine Fucha, the one recently embroiled in scandal, sat to the right. Her attire was considerably more vibrant than Concubine Li’s.

Below them, on the right, sat two princesses aged seventeen or eighteen, also dressed in Manchu attire. Following them were several concubine consorts of the prince. The remaining concubines and lesser attendants were not permitted to attend such formal occasions.

Several empty chairs remained on the left, reserved for Zhanxi.

According to custom, a legitimate son must pay his respects to his concubine mother when he meets her. But Zhanxi did not. He simply sat down on one of the chairs.

Concubine Li wore a look of displeasure; she was a woman who valued propriety, while Concubine Fucha snorted derisively and was about to voice her scorn. However, Concubine Li pulled her back, silencing her.

Not long ago, Zhanxi had personally handled an incident involving Concubine Fucha. He had someone from the Fucha household take her back. If Concubine Fucha had truly returned, she would have likely had only one option left: to hang herself to preserve her family’s honor.

Having nearly been driven to death, how could Fucha not harbor hatred toward Zhanxi?

As soon as Zhan Xi sat down, the two princesses rose to pay their respects. They spoke in measured, unhurried tones and displayed gentle, graceful demeanors. Not a single word was out of place. They delivered their lines flawlessly, even without prompting.

This was likely a skill that every Manchu learned from childhood. During his two years at the prince’s mansion, Lin Ruan had never managed to pay respects with such natural grace.

Zhan Xi said, “Rise.”

The two princesses rose again to express their gratitude, and Lin Ruan presented the prepared gifts.

After the princesses paid their respects, the concubines did the same. Then, the numerous servants of the prince’s residence paid their respects to Zhan Xi in the courtyard. They filled nearly the entire courtyard, creating a spectacular scene.

Zhan Xi said, “I, the Young Prince, accept your respect.”