Shen Zhuxi sat at the table, dropping peeled loquat skins into a clay saucer filled with fallen petals. After two days in the wind, the little white flowers had kept their color but lost their fresh luster. The loquat skins draped across the broken petals like bright yellow fox fur across a field of snow.
She ate and thought, feeling the cross-breeze drifting through the main hall. Spring was nearly done with April drawing near. Where was the Crown Prince now? How was the great undertaking of recovering the rivers and mountains and restoring the Great Yan progressing?
If Fu Xuanmiao couldn’t find her, had he given up?
Had the rebel army that seized the capital desecrated the imperial tombs? Were the people being slaughtered?
She was a central figure in all of this, and yet she felt barely any of it. The peaceful, quiet Yutou Town and the war-scorched capital felt like two entirely different worlds.
Sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder — would she ever be able to return to that world?
“What are you daydreaming about?” Li Wu sat up from his reed mat and walked toward the door, glancing back at her as he went.
Only then did Shen Zhuxi hear the knocking at the courtyard gate.
“Big Brother! Shen sister!” Li Que called from outside.
Shen Zhuxi quickly got up to welcome him, then remembered the clay saucer of rubbish sitting on the table. She carried it to the back courtyard, emptied and rinsed it, and returned to the main hall.
Li Que and Li Kun had already come into the courtyard. Li Kun’s sharp eyes landed on the fruit on the table immediately, and his feet took him straight toward the loquats and mulberries without hesitation. Li Que stood beneath the eaves and held up a plump lotus-leaf packet for Shen Zhuxi to see.
“Shen sister, I brought two jin of beef. Tonight I’ll show you what I can do.”
Shen Zhuxi was surprised. “Isn’t the slaughter of cattle forbidden by law?”
Li Que looked equally surprised. “Technically yes — but out here, so far from the capital, who doesn’t eat beef? Except maybe in the areas around the capital itself.”
Shen Zhuxi’s heart grew complicated: so this was how the people and officials of the realm put her father’s decrees into practice. If even the ban on cattle slaughter was flouted so casually, what hope was there for his other policies?
“Did you bring buns?” Li Wu took the lotus-leaf packet from Li Que.
“Big Brother has a craving for buns?”
Li Wu rubbed his stomach. “…I’m hungry.”
“It’s not far — I’ll go buy three jin of steamed buns.” Li Que said.
“Get taro cakes too!” Li Kun spat a loquat skin onto the table. Shen Zhuxi’s stomach turned. She went quickly to the table and placed the clay saucer in front of him. “Rubbish goes in here.”
“Why?”
“No saucer, no taro cakes!”
“…Picky pig.” Li Kun gave a reluctant spit, and the loquat skin landed in the saucer.
Not long after Li Que left, the woodworker Shen Zhuxi had commissioned sent two of his apprentices to deliver the new table, new chairs, the bookcase she had longed for, and the new bed.
The furniture, made to replace the returned huali wood pieces, was naturally a step below what she’d first ordered — but Shen Zhuxi settled onto the new frame bed with complete contentment regardless. At the very least it was wide and sturdy, and wouldn’t creak and groan every time she shifted. The bookcase was not of the finest wood but was passable enough. And as for the new square table — it gleamed with a lacquer so smooth and bright you could see your reflection in it, which spoke to both the woodworker’s and the lacquerer’s exceptional skill.
All things considered — not entirely satisfying, but satisfying enough.
She was especially fond of the square table. She even sent Li Kun out to the courtyard to finish his loquats and mulberries, then retrieved from beneath her pillow the writing brush she had been secretly keeping hidden.
It had been too long since she’d put brush to paper — her fingers itched. Dipping only into a bowl of clean water, she used the wet brush to write out “Thoughts on a Quiet Night” across the new table.
When Shen Zhuxi wrote the last character, the first was already beginning to disappear. She looked at this poem of longing for home and felt her eyes prickle.
“Where did you get a brush?” Li Wu sat down in the chair to her right.
Shen Zhuxi buried her sorrow and said lightly, tucking the writing brush into Li Wu’s hand, “When you made me return the ink and paper and inkstone, I secretly kept one brush.”
Before Li Wu could darken his expression, she added, “To use for teaching you to write. You can’t use a tree branch for the rest of your life, can you?”
Li Wu’s furrowed brow eased.
“You could have said so. That scheming shopkeeper told me I was short one brush — I thought he was trying to con me.”
“I was thoughtless about it,” Shen Zhuxi said agreeably, and then gave him an encouraging look. “How much of the Thousand Character Classic have you learned? Write it out and let me see.”
“How much have I learned?” Li Wu’s lips curved into a contemptuous smile. “Test me however you like. For every character I get wrong, I’ll give you one tael of silver.”
Shen Zhuxi didn’t believe he could have gone from illiterate to a master of the Thousand Character Classic in just a few days. She said casually, “The first three characters — ‘Thousand Character Classic.’ Write them.”
Li Wu picked up the brush and wrote without pause. The three characters were crooked and lopsided, but the strokes were all correct, the structure sound — not a single stroke missing or extra.
Shen Zhuxi didn’t believe it and tried again. “Nurture and love all people.”
Li Wu dipped the brush in water and continued writing on the table surface. He paused briefly at the third character, and Shen Zhuxi was just about to laugh at him for making grand claims, when he completed the final strokes.
Shen Zhuxi stared and stared — and still found no error.
Li Wu grew more pleased with himself. He crossed his ankle lazily over his knee. “Go on then — what else?”
“Walk carefully as if near a deep abyss or on thin ice.”
Correct.
“Fragrant as the orchid.”
Still correct.
Shen Zhuxi stared at him in disbelief. “What comes after ‘Noble and humble are distinguished by rank’?”
She had switched from dictation to recitation prompts. Li Wu didn’t hesitate. “Propriety separates those above from those below.”
“Integrity and righteousness, modesty and humility?”
“Remain unshaken even in hardship.”
Shen Zhuxi fired off five prompts in a row — Li Wu answered every one without pause.
If she kept this up, his ego would reach the heavens. Shen Zhuxi swallowed her astonishment, cleared her throat, and said, “…A teachable student indeed. You may lack natural talent, but with hard work, diligence can compensate for what nature withholds.”
“What do you mean I have no talent?” Li Wu was displeased.
“It depends who you’re comparing yourself to,” Shen Zhuxi said. “Compared to the foremost scholar in the realm, you cannot be called extraordinarily gifted. Now write out the full Thousand Character Classic and let me see.”
“Who is this ‘foremost scholar in the realm’?” Li Wu wrote and asked.
What a coarse man. Shen Zhuxi suppressed the sharp remark that had risen to her lips and said, “The foremost scholar in the realm is the son of the current Grand Chancellor. At five he could distinguish the notes of a zither by ear, at seven he was composing poetry, at ten he had already read through the entire canon of classical philosophers. Even as a young child he was known for his discernment, benevolence, and far-reaching reputation. A person like that — now that is what it means to possess stunning brilliance.”
Li Wu glanced at her without lifting his brush. “Did you personally witness him distinguishing zither notes at five, writing poetry at seven, and reading through all the classical philosophers at ten?”
“…Well, not personally.”
“What a fool — believing everything you hear. The pockmarked widow from the neighboring village of Niutou claims to be the greatest beauty in the village. Anyone who believes her is asking for trouble.” Li Wu curled his lips with scorn, the brush continuing its strokes across the table. “There are no perfect people in this world. When you encounter someone who appears to be — it’s either rumor, or a facade.”
“You’re just jealous of him,” Shen Zhuxi said.
“Jealous of him for what? I don’t even know who he is.” Li Wu frowned. “You’re defending him so vigorously — do you have feelings for him?”
“Don’t be absurd.” Shen Zhuxi caught herself and quickly produced a shield. “Fu Xuan— Fu-gongzi is the Prince Consort of the Princess of Yue. Of course I would speak well of him.”
Li Wu looked at her with half-convinced, half-skeptical eyes.
To redirect his attention, Shen Zhuxi went on the offensive first. “Your handwriting is terrible. If you practice this way, you’ll never produce anything presentable.”
“Then how should I practice?” Li Wu looked at the half-dried characters on the table.
“Good handwriting requires steady wrists,” Shen Zhuxi said. “And to steady your wrists, tying sandbags to your hands when you practice will produce twice the result with half the effort.”
“Are you having me on?” Li Wu looked deeply skeptical. “Those poor scholars who can barely wring a chicken’s neck — are you saying they tie sandbags to their hands?”
“That’s exactly why they remain poor scholars. The ones willing to work that hard flew high early on.”
Shen Zhuxi spun her fabrication with increasing fluency. She wasn’t sure whether it was the effect of spending time with someone as shameless as Li Wu, but her own face seemed to be growing thicker by the day.
“If you don’t believe me, never mind — but all the Fu-gongzi I know of, and the princes in the palace, they all tied sandbags to their hands when they practiced calligraphy.”
“You can spin all the tales you like — I’m not buying it.” Li Wu bowed his head and continued writing.
Shen Zhuxi picked up a mulberry that Li Kun had overlooked and placed it in her mouth.
“…How many jin?” Li Wu said.
Shen Zhuxi nearly choked on the mulberry.
“What…?”
“The sandbags they tied — how many jin?” Li Wu looked up.
Shen Zhuxi said, “…Th-three jin?”
That evening’s meal was the most lavish the table had ever seen.
Li Que showed off his culinary skills, presenting a pot of slow-braised beef that made the whole room fragrant, accompanied by soft, white steamed buns. Everyone at the table — including Shen Zhuxi — drank a bowl of sour plum drink. Li Kun was the last to leave the table: by then the entire pot of braised beef was gone, not a drop of sauce left, and out of the three jin of buns, only a few crumbs remained — those too, Li Kun tipped into the beef pot, soaked in the savory sauce, and ate clean.
After the meal, the three Li brothers slipped into the back courtyard, secretive and solemn, muttering away at something. Shen Zhuxi had half a mind to eavesdrop, but shopkeepers kept arriving with deliveries, keeping her on her feet and thoroughly occupied. The idea had to be abandoned.
Out in the spacious back courtyard, the three Li brothers crouched beneath the window of the newly built bathing room, wearing matching grave expressions.
“To think that even the idle sons of the capital work this diligently. We cannot afford to be complacent,” Li Wu said.
“Big Brother is right. If we can’t even surpass the wastrels of the capital, how can we ever rise above the crowd?” Li Que nodded in agreement.
“If those good-for-nothings can manage three jin, I certainly won’t be stopped by ten or twenty,” Li Wu said.
“Big Brother’s potential is as boundless as the great rivers and as ceaseless as the waterfalls of heaven.” Li Que laid it on thick. “Of course Big Brother can manage it.”
“I’ll tie them not just to my hands but to my legs as well. Li Kun, you’re training with me — don’t take them off except when sleeping.” Li Wu said, face unsmiling. “As for you —”
“Big Brother!” Li Que’s face went pale. “I’m not cut out for this!”
“I’ve never pushed you before, but not anymore. If you can’t surpass even the idle wastrels of the capital, you’ll embarrass yourself when we go out into the world — embarrassment aside, you could end up dead.” Li Wu said. “I won’t make you bind all four limbs. Just the legs. When things go wrong, I need you to run fast and stay out of the enemy’s hands…”
Li Que said miserably, “I might as well strap the sandbags to the horse — no matter how fast I run, can I outrun an enemy on horseback?”
“You’re told to bind them, so bind them. Stop whimpering.” Li Wu cut off Li Que’s plea outright. “I’ll check on your progress without warning. Train properly — don’t embarrass me.”
Li Que accepted his fate with a face like a funeral.