For Xie Jing, who grew up in the North, the capital city’s summer was indeed a bit long, but it also eventually had an ending day.
After September, he completely stopped needing to go to Linhan Hall, not because the changes in his figure were becoming more obvious and could no longer be easily concealed by clothes, but having checked his pulse during one visit to the Prince’s Mansion, Imperial Physician Qin returned to the palace and directly reported to the emperor that the child Princess Consort Zhao was carrying was very likely an Imperial Grandson.
Xie Jing had none of the symptoms of “craving sour for a boy or spicy for a girl”; he wasn’t particularly fond of sour or spicy food to begin with; he just hadn’t expected such a thing could actually be discerned through observation, listening, questioning, and pulse-taking.
He asked Yin Chou, “Is it accurate?” Yin Chou hesitated for a moment, then nodded and said, “Close enough. It could actually be diagnosed as early as three or four months; waiting until now to say it was to ensure absolute certainty when reporting back to His Majesty.”
This little Imperial Grandson, whether born to the principal wife or a concubine; would, as the eldest, invariably be held in exceptional regard; and now that it had been confirmed he was male, the palace’s attention and esteem toward him naturally rose to an even higher level than usual.
Gold may carry a set value, but jade is beyond price; the so-called “golden child” was instantly elevated to a “jade child,” drawing attention across both court and common society even before birth; and once he entered the world, it was only inevitable that stepping out of the public eye would become all the more difficult.
Xie Jing himself had other concerns: If it were a son, he would be able to inherit both the title and the mansion, sparing them the need to painstakingly amass private wealth on his behalf; and the palace, in turn, would lose any proper pretext to dispatch people to the Prince’s Mansion under the banner of “ensuring the continuation of the family line.”
But at the same time, if the day ever came that he truly left… it would be nearly impossible to take the child with him.
This was the second autumn he had spent in Jinling.
The sky stretched vast and remote, a flawless expanse of silken blue unbroken by a single cloud; sunlight fell in gentle warmth, while the breeze held a faint chill, laced with the rich, intoxicating scent of osmanthus; enough to make one long to spend a lifetime in such a place.
The maids in the Prince’s Mansion would take advantage of the sunny weather to air out the summer clothes, which would then be stored in chests until they were worn again the following May, so they absolutely had to be thoroughly dried.
The rear courtyard was too small, so the girls, laughing all the while, ran off to the flower hall, half coaxing and half insisting that Xie Jing let them use the garden.
Not a single one of them disliked this young princess consort after spending several months under the same roof.
Even though there had been quite a few whispers inside and out when he first arrived earlier in the year, by this time, all of that had transformed into genuine affection.
His temperament wasn’t particularly good, and when his mood soured, he troubled no one and preferred to wrestle in silence with himself instead.
However, his actions were the most efficient and smooth; every movement and interaction was handled with effortless ease.
Rarer still was that he understood how to enjoy himself and delighted in play; whenever he had leisure, he would gather them for games; competing with grass stalks, holding rhyme-based drinking contests, or drawing lots for flower fortunes. Whenever guests came to the residence, he proved adept at every manner of game, such as guessing hidden objects, pitch-pot, backgammon, and liubo; and even with His Highness’s companions joining forces, they were still no match for the Princess Consort alone.
As expected, when they brought up the matter, Xie Jing asked, “How did you manage to dry them in past years?”
The first to speak replied, “We simply spread them over the stone slabs or in the pavilion; it’s not like the courtyard where drying racks can be set up, we only need a place with a bit more space.”
Xie Jing lightly pushed himself off the edge of the table and rose from the couch; as he strode out briskly, he instructed, “Bring some thin ropes and benches, we’ll go to the garden.”
Consequently, a group of beautiful maids gathered around him while moving grandly with each holding piles of silk clothes and embroidered skirts and were busy in the garden for a good part of the afternoon.
The servants’ clothes in Prince Zhao’s Mansion did not have a unified style, nor was there the problem of a maid dressing too fashionably or conspicuously and incurring the displeasure of the mistress; the girls had always dressed themselves as they pleased, provided their savings could afford it.
Therefore, when Lu Lingcong found his way there, what he saw was a garden full of color, such as vibrant green floating and deep crimson flowing; the girls liked wearing rich, bright colors, and the summer clothes were mostly both sheer and thin, lightly clustered together shoulder-to-shoulder, transforming into a scene of dazzling magnificence.
Xie Jing was swaying on a swing with one shoe half-off his foot, while the other having fallen three feet away, his cheeks slightly flushed from the perspiration caused by the activity.
Seeing him arrive, he pointed somewhat excitedly at the flourishing golden osmanthus tree not far away and said to him, “Look under the tree.”
Lu Lingcong followed the instructions and looked; several large pieces of uncut fabric were spread out beneath the tree, covered with the “remains” of osmanthus flowers, scattered like freshly steamed millet rice, weaving a brand-new, pale-yellow goose down blanket.
“They said they were picking them to keep and use for making osmanthus cakes.”
Lu Lingcong nodded in agreement: “The wool comes from the sheep’s back; since we have what’s available at home, why would we go to the market to buy it?”
As he spoke, he took a few steps forward, picked up Xie Jing’s shoe, and bent down to help him put it on, before sitting down on the other empty swing beside him.
But he was taller than Xie Jing, and his toes could just brush the ground to steady himself, so he used the chance to stretch out while comfortably rolling and loosening his neck.
Xie Jing turned his head to look at him; he appeared boneless and utterly relaxed, yet he still looked inexplicably handsome and charismatic.
Noticing he was being watched, Lu Lingcong gave a soft, questioning “Hm?” through his nose, and Xie Jing lowered his gaze, saying, “This is a good garden.”
Lu Lingcong seemed somewhat surprised by this comment and asked, “Do you like it?”
Xie Jing thought for a moment: “A little.”
Lu Lingcong then smiled somewhat proudly, “Look across the whole of Jinling, there are few places that can compare to the autumn in Prince Zhao’s Mansion.”
Xie Jing, however, shook his head and said seriously, “There are few places that can compare to Prince Zhao’s Mansion throughout all four seasons of the year.”
Lu Lingcong was momentarily stunned by his straightforward hit and paused, “That’s not what you really mean, is it? Who was it that in summer would flare up at the slightest provocation, like a hedgehog; bristling all over the moment you touched them?”
Xie Jing was unconvinced, “I don’t care about that. Since Prince Zhao’s Mansion went to the trouble of building a nest for a hedgehog, are you now refusing to let it sleep in it? Prickly or not, the hedgehog never provoked you; so why did you go out of your way to poke it?”
Lu Lingcong chuckled, narrowing his eyes as he shook his head with a soft click of his tongue. Xie Jing indignantly demanded, “What are you laughing at?” He then honestly replied, “I’m laughing because you’re adorable.”
It was the first time Xie Jing had heard those two words spoken by Lu Lingcong, especially when describing himself, and he was momentarily dazed, only managing to woodenly utter, “Oh.”
Lu Lingcong didn’t notice his distraction. He gently touched the ground with his foot while swaying slightly: “A few months ago, Imperial Physician Qin privately sought me out and said that you were restless and emotionally distressed at the time and that if this continued, it might be detrimental to your health, so he asked me to comfort you more when I had time. I’ve been worrying these past few days, constantly afraid that something might happen to you. Wouldn’t everyone in the ‘family’ have a hard time?”
The pronoun “family” was quite vague, and Xie Jing couldn’t grasp the precise meaning, but according to his deduction, Lu Lingcong was likely collectively referring to Prince Zhao’s Mansion, Wuyi Lane, and Mingluan Hall, the three places most closely related and intimate to him as “home.”
“Let’s not talk about unlucky things,” he continued. “In any case, I am very happy that you can now like this home, even if it’s just a little bit.”
Xie Jing did not speak for a long time, just using the tip of his shoe to scrape the paulownia leaves that had fallen on the ground, but quickly stopped when he heard a crisp rustling sound.
He also liked to play this way when he was a child, but his grandfather had caught him and lectured him once because there were many fallen leaves in the North during autumn and winter, and cleaning them up was strenuous and time-consuming, and for him to crush them into scattered pieces would just needlessly increase the trouble for the servants in the mansion.
“Imperial Physician Qin is truly considerate. I used to bear grudges, and there were many occasions when I was discourteous to him.” He changed the subject, not responding to Lu Lingcong’s “happiness.”
“He is accustomed to following rules and doesn’t pay much attention to other things, so I think it’s fine,” Lu Lingcong said, then blinked his eyes somewhat suspiciously. “And were you really very impolite to him? I didn’t notice it. I saw you escorting him to and from the flower hall every time.”
“For instance, last time Imperial Physician Qin arrived shortly after noon, and Yin Chou hadn’t yet had time to eat, so I let her sit aside and have her meal. However, that plate of salted duck was placed a little too close, and I caught the gamey smell of the duck. I couldn’t suppress it, and fearing that if I vomited toward Yin Chou it would ruin her appetite, I had no choice but to turn and vomit toward Imperial Physician Qin,” Xie Jing slowly explained before finally turning towards Lu Lingcong with a faint gaze. “I think that was quite rude, what do you think?”
In the evening, Lu Lingzhen arrived carrying several packed boxes and chests, saying that this time of year the Prince’s Mansion had fine scenery to enjoy and excellent crab to eat, and that she had been stifled from being confined within the palace. She had finally managed to pester Lady Wu into speaking with the emperor to permit her to temporarily stay at Prince Zhao’s Mansion.
The Eldest Princess, though only ten years old, had, in a rather glorious twist, been elevated by an entire generation; thanks to her elder brother and his princess consort, she was soon to become an aunt. With this new and exciting event, she temporarily paid less attention to her old, reserved routine of dueling with Lu Lingcong by using a small wooden sword.
She pressed her fuzzy head against Xie Jing’s lower abdomen to listen but couldn’t hear anything. She raised her face, frowned, and seriously asked where the little baby was. Xie Jing could only coax her by saying that the baby was asleep and that Zhenzhen should also go to sleep early.
Lu Lingzhen could sleep, but she couldn’t just sleep; she had to hear a story first.
Her Consort Mother only knew a few characters and could read illustrated books, but that had long failed to satisfy her vigorous thirst for knowledge.
She had taken the opportunity of going to Linhan Hall to pay her respects in order to secretly listen to those scholars and great Confucians giving lessons to Lu Lingzhang, all the Zi Yue, Shi Yun, Zhi Hu Zhe Ye[mfn]Confucian sayings and classical particles.[/mfn] completely bored her.
The job of telling stories was something that, without question, had to fall to her elder brother.
When Lu Lingcong’s playful mood struck, he would be outrageous and deliberately try to trick her, so he told a romantic tale of a scholar encountering a female ghost. Lu Lingzhen became furious after hearing it once while criticizing its falsehood logically and coherently.
Lu Lingcong had no choice but to turn to anecdotes from the former dynasty, ranging from “what has long been divided must unite, and what has long been united must divide,” to “in times without heroes, petty men rise to prominence,” recounting several rounds of such tales.
Unexpectedly, Lu Lingzhen was fully attentive, listening closely and thinking deeply, and she had a string of questions ready and was just waiting for Lu Lingcong to thoroughly break down and explain the answers to her.
The Eldest Princess had a certain sensitive nose for the art of troop deployment and formation. Lu Lingcong believed that given time, if she could conceal her identity and try her hand in the army, she might even earn the compliment of “possessing military talent” from those old men who liked to criticize and evaluate people.
However, recognizing Lu Lingzhen’s talent did not stop him from being completely exasperated by her pestering.
As Xie Jing was finally present, Lu Lingcong almost handed the burden over to him with fanfare, hastily saying that last time he had told the story of the Shi Kong Zhan[mfn]Losing Jieting, Empty City Ruse, and Beheading Ma Su.[/mfn], and this time it should be Xiaoyao Jin[mfn]Battle of Xiaoyao Ford.[/mfn]; “Master Xie, please go ahead, please go ahead.”
But fearing that he might overtax himself, he then made a strict agreement with Lu Lingzhen by promising to tell only one story before going to sleep while warning that if she reneged, he would let her have a ten-round head start in their next sparring match.
When Lu Lingzhen heard this, she thought it was outrageous; it was one thing for Lu Lingcong to let her have ten rounds, but if she had to let Lu Lingcong have ten rounds, she would have been beaten to a pulp long ago.
But if she didn’t agree, she wouldn’t get to hear any story, so she reluctantly accepted.
No one expected that Xie Jing’s standard of storytelling was truly worrying.
Lu Lingcong mimicked the street storytellers, loud and boisterous with exaggerated pauses, even slapping his waist token against the table like a gavel, while Xie Jing, as expected, carried the cadence of book-reading into his speech, speaking in a plain and straightforward manner. Sometimes, after he finished a scholarly passage, Lu Lingzhen would blink, pick out a word from ten sentences ago, and ask which two characters it was and how to write them.
That, too, could be overlooked as he wasn’t completely unskilled as a tutor, but the fact that he put Lu Lingzhen to sleep by the end of an account of a marvelous battle where the few defeated the many was truly very frustrating for him.
Lu Lingcong tucked the quilt corner for his sister, lowered the bed curtain, picked up the lamp, and walked back to the backyard alongside Xie Jing.
Sensing the other party’s resentful silence, he suppressed a laugh and said, “Look on the bright side, at least she’s asleep. You successfully completed your mission.”
Xie Jing let out a sigh, not without a trace of dejection. In the palace, needless to say, even if he exchanged only a few idle words with Lu Lingzhang, the empress would already harbor misgivings. At home, he only focused on teaching Xie Jun to study, and if Xie Jun wanted to play, he dismissed him with a phrase, “Go bother your father.” Now he regretted being so perfunctory and wished he had learned how to amuse children.
“But I am indeed not a very interesting person,” he said. “And I also don’t know how to be a… mother who is liked by children.”
This was his true concern.
Lu Lingzhen was only staying at Prince Zhao’s Mansion for a few days, but his own child would be raised by him personally, day and night.
And he was really still too young; he had too little time left to adapt to the role of transitioning from a son to a mother. In this matter, he truly couldn’t maintain his usual composure of handling whatever came his way.
Blood ties and emotional closeness had never been entirely the same. Xie Jing did not dare to assume that his child would, without reservation, feel affection for him, or come to love, trust, and rely on him as he did his father and elder brother.
But Lu Lingcong seemed very surprised by this conclusion he had drawn: “Are you worried about this? How could your own flesh and blood not like you?”
Xie Jing glanced at him sideways, thinking that there were two living examples right beside him. To say something that could cost him his head—Lu Lingcong made no attempt to conceal his disgust toward the emperor, his own biological father, even in front of him; and as for Lu Lingzhang’s relationship with the empress, it was even more subtle and complicated, certainly not something that could be described in terms of simple filial piety.
Lu Lingcong quickly realized that his words lacked persuasive power, so he further explained, “My point is, no one would dislike you, let alone your own flesh and blood. The focus is on ‘you’.”
Xie Jing withdrew his gaze. Having experienced that phrase “I’m laughing because you’re adorable,” he had learned his lesson and would no longer be flustered by these vague and ambiguous terms.
Lu Lingcong spoke frankly about “adorable” and “like.” Xie Jing was firmly convinced that even if he directly asked him, “What part of me is adorable? And What do you like about me?” Lu Lingcong could instantly list a pile of his “merits,” completely righteous and unrelated to romantic love.
“You seem very confident.” After a moment, Xie Jing concluded.
Lu Lingcong had the capital for confidence.
According to what Xie Jing had seen and heard, if the emperor treated his two sons, one born of the legal wife and one of a consort, in such a way, he would presumably care even less about Lu Lingzhen, his daughter stuck in the middle.
It was conceivable that in the process of her growing up, her older brother had substituted for and exercised too many of the father’s roles. Lu Lingcong should, therefore, be somewhat skilled and practiced in the matter of “parenting,” beyond his years.
“That’s your misconception.” Lu Lingcong tilted his head back slightly. “Beloved Consort, you think too highly of me.”
Now it was Xie Jing’s turn to be slightly surprised: “I see you are completely unperturbed, and every time you respond to the palace, it’s flawless. Anyone who didn’t know would think you had both son and daughter and had been a father for at least ten years. How has this suddenly become my misconception?”
“I was pretending.” Lu Lingcong gave a somewhat helpless and wry smile. “I never thought I would ever have to be a father.”
“My guiding Zhenzhen was simply being forced into a situation; if Emperor Father didn’t care, then only I could take charge. But truly, I only keep her company to amuse her and make her happy. The one who truly educated her and raised her to this day is my mother. I can teach her martial arts and swordsmanship, but I can’t teach her the various principles of conducting oneself in the world and establishing oneself, because I haven’t figured them out myself.”
As they spoke, they had already reached the door of the bedroom. As they stepped over the threshold, Lu Lingcong supported Xie Jing’s elbow and continued:
“Speaking of being a father, it’s all much the same. By the time this little ancestor,” he glanced toward Xie Jing’s waist as he spoke, “reaches the age for schooling, I’ll have only just been capped for less than two years. With all these worries weighing on me, I probably won’t look much different from how I do now. I wouldn’t dare go out and mislead other people’s children; so if I came back and ended up leading my own child astray, wouldn’t you be the one to straighten me out?”
“What should we do then?” Xie Jing had originally wanted to get a few comforting words from Lu Lingcong as reassurance but instead received a torrent of sincere feelings and was now a little flustered. “I’m even younger than you are. When it comes to education and upbringing, how can I compare to Wu Niangniang?”
Following the “rules” Xie Jing established when he first moved in, the maid did not follow them into the room. Lu Lingcong put down the lamp, and Xie Jing naturally turned his back before gathering his long hair over his shoulders.
“We won’t do anything elaborate; we’ll learn a little and teach a little as we go. We have plenty of time ahead of us anyway,” Lu Lingcong said while loosening the intricate ties of his sash and robes from behind. “And in any case, no one is going to snatch him away from our family anyway.”
