As the year drew to a close, the chill grew more biting day by day. The light-yellow gauze curtains hung in the bedroom during early autumn were taken down and replaced with warm, crimson drapes. Only a few white plum blossoms had bloomed in the courtyard; neither their color nor fragrance had yet reached their peak. However, a few branches of half-open buds gathered and placed in a vase against the dark red backdrop brought a lightness to the heart.
The scent burner smoldered all day long with a row of fruits neatly roasting atop it, such as golden sugar mandarins, lotus-root-pink honey pomelos, and verdant winter dates. The scent of liquid storax entwined with the fruity aromas gathered in a thick layer above the burner, only when someone entered or left the room bringing a piercing draft through the hall would a drift of slightly bitter, cold fragrance be carried out.
Xie Jing sat by the window teasing Lu Ai. The parrot’s feathers had become increasingly fluffy in the winter. Fearing she might freeze; they had moved her indoors. Day after day, she did nothing but fly wantonly through the air or land lightly on the railing of the cradle, tilting her head to observe Lu Shuqing’s sleeping face.
Lu Shuqing had only recently learned to smile, and the parrot’s vibrant splash of color amused him more than any bell or rattle ever could.
Two soft knocks sounded against the window frame before it cracked open slightly to reveal Lu Lingzhen’s eyes. “Saosao, it’s me.”
As if chilled to the bone from her journey, she hurried around the covered corridor and slipped inside before throwing herself toward the scent burner to warm her freezing hands and feet. Only then did she shuffle over to Xie Jing’s side before tilting her face up playfully. “I haven’t dared leave the palace for a while now, and I didn’t even see you at the full moon banquet the other day. Did you miss me, Saosao?”
Xie Jing stirred the charcoal basin to brighten the fire, then shared half of the small blanket covering her legs, picking out a sweet sesame-coated chestnut and offering it to her. Lu Lingzhen shrank back, declining the treat, and instead leaned toward the cradle. She was about to ask, “May I see him?” but then remembered the palace rumors—such as how Xie Jing wouldn’t even let the wet nurses near Lu Shuqing. Fearing she might upset Xie Jing, she sat back down, looking a bit sheepish.
“If you want to see him, look for a while; it doesn’t matter.” How could Xie Jing not see through her thoughts? Though he might not know exactly what those outside were gossiping about, he could guess most of it, but he simply lacked the energy to care.
He picked Lu Shuqing up in his arms so that the clumsy young aunt could get a good look at him. Lu Lingzhen had visited both when Lu Shuqing was born and again at his full-moon banquet. Since she was not close to Lu Lingzhang, she had naturally not seen many newborns before; thus, she felt both curiosity and affection toward Lu Shuqing, almost wishing she could press her face right against his soft little body.
As Lu Lingzhen gently nuzzled Lu Shuqing’s head, Xie Jing maintained his hold on his son and gazed at her, though his thoughts drifted far away. The feeling in his arms was intensely warm; heated, heavy, and accompanied by the steady rhythm of tiny breaths. As someone to be “held,” Lu Shuqing was as perfectly comfortable and fitting as could be; any relative could draw a sense of overflowing satisfaction and fulfillment from embracing him, not to mention Xie Jing, who shared the closest blood ties with him.
But Xie Jing knew clearly in his own heart that what he truly lacked was the opportunity to receive an embrace, not the ability to give one.
However, on second thought, since he could work this out for himself, whether he truly needed such an embrace that much seemed open to question.
As he thought this, he suddenly let out an abrupt, cold laugh. Lu Lingzhen was startled and stared at him blankly, “…Saosao?”
Xie Jing reacted almost unconsciously, his mind still hazy; he did not even know whether he had said “I’m here” or “it’s nothing.” Either way, it only made Lu Lingzhen more frightened. She hesitated for a moment, then asked in a small voice, “…Did you and my brother have a fight, Saosao?”
At this, Xie Jing snapped back to reality completely. Hearing her ask so bluntly, he didn’t feel offended; instead, finding it somewhat amusing, he tilted his head slightly and studied Lu Lingzhen with smiling eyes, “Are you here to act as a lobbyist for him?”
“A lobbyist!” Lu Lingzhen cried out before springing up. “He doesn’t have that kind of face!”
Xie Jing pressed her back down and carefully placed Lu Shuqing back into the cradle. “I know you don’t care to worry about his affairs. But things between him and me are in utter confusion, a complete mess; whether it even counts as a ‘fight,’ I cannot say.”
At her age, how could Lu Lingzhen understand the word ‘love’? She hadn’t asked the question out of gossip regarding her brother’s and sister-in-law’s relationship. “I am simply worried that things are hard for you. I heard about what happened at Jiuhua Hall that day. Emperor Father and Empress Mother have always been those kinds of people. If you truly insist on head-on confrontation, I fear things will only get more painful later. It would be better not to force yourself.”
“How could I not understand the absurdity of an ant trying to shake a giant tree?” Xie Jing straightened her bangs for her. “And yet, how am I supposed to swallow this resentment? Zhenzhen, tell me, how exactly has your brother endured all these years?”
Lu Lingzhen watched him in silence; she tightly grasped Xie Jing’s palm with her pale hands as her nose began to sting with tears. Xie Jing drew back his arm to pull her into a loose embrace, murmuring, “It’s not worth it, Zhenzhen, it’s not worth it. There is no need for you to feel this injustice on my behalf.”
The sound of footsteps came from outside, followed by a maid’s announcement, “The Eldest Princess entered the room just now; she is speaking with the Princess Consort at this moment.”
By the time the latter half of the sentence was spoken, the person had already entered the room. Xie Jing pursed his lips almost imperceptibly and turned his face away to stare blankly at the window paper.
Lu Lingcong entered carrying a tray. Seeing Lu Lingzhen huddled dejectedly against Xie Jing, he froze for a brief moment. He set the tray down on the small table atop the daybed and said to her, “Did you have dinner in the palace before coming? Do you want to eat more?”
Lu Lingzhen sniffled. “I’ll eat. I’ll eat right here in the room at the same table as Saosao; I’m not going to the dining hall.”
Lu Lingcong shot her a glare, then habitually scooped Lu Ai into his arms and turned to leave. As he crossed the veranda, he instructed the maids to prepare and serve her a separate portion of dishes. Xie Jing glanced back at the tray; inside was a small crock of boneless crucian carp stewed with papaya, a small crock of poached eggs in sweet rice wine, two light side dishes, and a steamer basket containing four plum-blossom dumplings.
He let out a soft sigh and picked up his chopsticks. For over a month now, he had hardly touched any food prepared by the mansion’s chefs; for all three meals, he ate whatever Lu Lingcong made as there was ultimately no sense in wasting food. He had heard that because Lu Lingcong found the main kitchen stifling, he had set up a small private stove in a side room of the front courtyard. Yin Chou was the first to cheer for this arrangement as she no longer had to walk a great distance to the back to decoct medicine.
In the middle of the night, Xie Jing startled himself awake. He wasn’t exactly caught in a nightmare or a night terror; perhaps it was just what common folk call “sleep paralysis.” His chest felt tight and swollen as if he couldn’t catch his breath. When he finally broke free from that drowning sensation of impending death, he let out a cry and woke up.
Lu Lingcong was jolted awake by that cry. He rolled over and scrambled upright, but upon opening his eyes to pitch darkness, he could only grope blindly toward the side. “What is it?”
Xie Jing pressed a hand to his chest and took several deep breaths, gradually steadying his breathing. He shook his head, then, remembering the other could not see him, added, “Nothing. Just a restless sleep.”
Lu Lingcong’s fingertips barely grazed his temple, but before he could even register any temperature, his hand was brushed aside in a dismissive motion. His hand froze in the pitch-black night before he slowly withdrew it; he was not exactly desolate or dejected, only left somewhat awkwardly suspended in mid-air. After a moment, he turned to the other side to light the lamp.
Compared to before, Xie Jing starting awake in the middle of the night was already an improvement. When they first returned to the mansion, he hadn’t slept at all. The first time Lu Lingcong had woken during the third watch to find the space beside him empty and the bedding cold, he had pulled back the curtain to see Xie Jing kneeling alone by the cradle, staring at Lu Shuqing. He would remain motionless for a long, long time before finally blinking, strangely, like a puppet pulled by a string.
Lu Lingcong was truly terrified by him. He didn’t dare to approach and startle him, nor did he dare to just lie back down and leave him be; so, he sat on the edge of the bed and watched Xie Jing all night. When the sky began to gray at dawn, Xie Jing turned back to the bed as if wound up like a clock. He cast a cold glance at the silent, hollowed-out Lu Lingcong, crawled under the covers, and fell asleep shortly after closing his eyes. Only then did Lu Lingcong breathe a long sigh of relief.
The second night was the same all over again.
As the candle was lit, Xie Jing instinctively knit his brows and lifted his sleeve to shield his eyes from the light. “I said it’s nothing! Just come back and sleep peacefully.”
When he did not hear a reply from Lu Lingcong for a long time and the room remained deathly silent, Xie Jing sensed something was wrong. He shifted his hand away slightly and squinted to look; he saw Lu Lingcong’s gaze fixed like a hook on his pillow. When he spoke, his voice was chilling and carried a slight tremor, “Xie Jing…”
Xie Jing was startled by the sound of this name; one he did not often hear from Lu Lingcong’s lips. He slowly lowered his head, following the other party’s gaze, and realized that when he had risen, he had inadvertently shifted the pillow. Beneath it, an object had been exposed at the corner, it was a lustrous jade-green hue, revealing the hilt and ring pommel of a dagger.
His expression sharpened, and he instinctively moved to hide it, but Lu Lingcong was already a step faster, lunging into the bed curtains to snatch the dagger away. After examining it by light, he looked up at Xie Jing, the emotions in his eyes an indescribable, tangled mixture of a thousand things. “…What are you trying to do?”
His tone was gentle, bordering on coaxing. “Sweetheart, you hid Flying Light under your pillow. What exactly are you trying to do?”
Xie Jing froze in place, staring at him blankly while hugging his knees. After a long silence, he gave a wretched smile and asked back, “What do you think I’m trying to do?”
Lu Lingcong had handed Flying Light to him that day at the Jade Terrace because they had temporarily reached a balance and placed their trust in one another; Flying Light served as a token of faith, just as it had when Xiao Yao first gave it to Lu Lingcong. Although Lu Lingcong had never explicitly told him to use it for self-defense, he certainly hadn’t intended for him to keep it under his pillow… in preparation for some “unforeseen need.”
“In those days, every time I closed my eyes, I saw the Empress’s attendants bursting into Jiuhua Hall to snatch Lu Shuqing away. I couldn’t do anything, and I also didn’t know how to do anything. If, in the end, I cannot control his fate and can only watch as I am tortured… there is always death.”
Xie Jing lifted his gaze to stare at Lu Lingcong’s solemn face intently. Suddenly, he reached out a hand to stroke the lines of the other party’s cheek and asked softly, “Zifeng, are you afraid?”
He sat up a bit further from the bedding before leaning upward to get closer to Lu Lingcong. “Are you afraid that I would truly do such a foolish thing, leaving it all behind through death? Abandoning Lu Shuqing, abandoning my mother’s clan and kin, and abandoning—abandoning you?”
Lu Lingcong’s mouth hung slightly open, yet not a single word came out. He didn’t dare confirm it but couldn’t deny it either; it was as if he could hear his own heart beating like a drum, betraying his true panic and helplessness in the silent night.
Xie Jing knew that Lu Lingcong had been wearing that silver belt hook every day recently, deliberately and conspicuously hanging it at his waist. It wasn’t that Xie Jing had failed to notice, but what of it? Lu Lingcong was indeed wearing it to please him, to show that he valued and cared for him; but even so, what did it change? He had never given an answer to the question Xie Jing had asked him about whether he ultimately wanted Xie Jing himself to stay or wanted Lu Shuqing’s mother to stay, nor could he give him an answer.
The air remained stagnant for a long while before Xie Jing suddenly collapsed back as if all his strength had vanished. Like a child whose prank had succeeded, he clapped his hands and laughed with a cunning vibrancy. He laughed until he was out of breath while clutching his chest and gasping violently, yet he still struggled to mock Lu Lingcong, “Were you truly fooled?”
He pulled at the corners of his mouth with a hint of boredom and said indifferently, “If I told you my mother told me to put a dagger under my pillow to ward off evil spirits for peace of mind, would you believe me or not?”
Lu Lingcong remained silent for a moment, tossed the dagger gently back onto the pillow, and suddenly leaned forward toward Xie Jing, who was half-leaning against the headboard. He encircled Xie Jing’s back with his arms and pressed himself close, parting the collar and shifting aside the scented locket pendant and other items at his neck before leaving scattered kisses across the wide stretch of exposed skin on his chest.
At first, Xie Jing didn’t respond and simply allowed himself to be kissed. But after a moment, his slightly swollen, aching chest was accidentally, or perhaps deliberately, brushed by the other party’s nose, and he let out a soft, low cry. He had only nursed Lu Shuqing for a few days, during the time right after leaving the palace when his emotions were at their most unstable and he refused to let anyone touch the child. But because his milk was insufficient and the supply was inconsistent, Lu Shuqing would cry from hunger. Goat’s milk could compensate somewhat, but they didn’t dare give it to him constantly. After a few days, as Xie Jing’s condition improved slightly and he was no longer hysterically shutting everyone out of the room, the child was handed back to the wet nurses.
“That crucian carp soup makes me feel uncomfortable,” Xie Jing said while glancing down at the crown of Lu Lingcong’s head. “The cook has to take some of the blame, surely.”
Lu Lingcong’s response was to wordlessly tilt his head and take that spot into his mouth, sucking gently. Xie Jing readily adjusted into a more comfortable position before parting his legs slightly so Lu Lingcong could kneel before him while sliding his hands down to grip Lu Lingcong’s waist.
The emperor had betrothed him to Lu Lingcong partly to draw Prince Zhao’s Mansion and the Xie family into the political game, but there was another layer involving domestic affairs. This was something Xie Jing had overheard from the idle gossip of eunuchs at Linhai Hall earlier in the palace.
They said that before Xie Jing, Lu Lingcong had no concubines or even bedchamber maids. Aside from the fact that he himself never brought people back to the mansion on a whim, it was also due to the emperor’s tacit instruction to Lady Wu, forbidding her from sending anyone to his side. This was to prevent those with ulterior motives from using the opportunity to climb the social ladder and cause trouble.
As the son of a prominent and noble household, Xie Jing possessed natural pride and thin skin; it was assumed he would disdain the ugly business of currying favor or acting coquettishly. The two of them were not expected to indulge in the overly intimate or frivolous behavior of young lovers, nor would he entice Lu Lingcong into neglecting his duties by becoming obsessed with the affairs of the bedchamber.
Xie Jing thought that the emperor’s calculations were only half-right. It was true the Xie family had been forced into this position, yet he had hardly become a “virtuous wife,” who was meek and quiet. On the bed, he exerted every charm; off the bed, he was difficult and calculating. What favored concubine or cherished mistress could possibly match the sheer excess of his conduct as the lawful spouse? It was only that such behavior was kept strictly behind closed doors, concealed from the outside world.
He said with composure, “Keep an eye on the time. When the wet nurse comes in later to feed him, it will be quite a scandal if she catches us.”
Lu Lingcong gave him a gentle, weightless bite with his teeth. “Go on then, keep spouting nonsense. Whatever it is, as long as you have the nerve to say it, I’ll believe you. Even if you claimed you hid Flying Light under your pillow just to stab me to death in your dreams, I would still dare to believe that as well.”
