Lin Xiao could see that Jiang Sanlang was utterly immovable — there was simply no getting through to him. Since today was his first day taking office and he still had to go to the palace to receive his Imperial Uncle’s instructions, he had no choice but to let the matter rest for now.
Upon entering the palace, before the morning court session had even begun, the Emperor was indeed already waiting for him in Daming Hall.
The Emperor was forty-five years old this year. Years of toiling over state affairs had left his temples somewhat grey, yet his gaze remained as bright and sharp as ever.
“Weijin.” Seeing Lin Xiao enter, the Emperor broke into a warm, affectionate smile and called Lin Xiao by his courtesy name. That sixth brother of his — not content with naming his eldest son “Xiao” — had even gone so far as to choose the painstakingly cautious courtesy name of “Weijin” for him two years ago, as if terrified of arousing any suspicion on his part.
When he had first heard that name, he had been at a complete loss whether to laugh or cry. Fortunately, Lin Xiao was nothing like his father, who had always sought to withdraw from the world. From a young age Lin Xiao had distinguished himself, excelling in both scholarship and talent in every respect, and had earned deep affection from the Emperor.
“Good morning, Imperial Uncle.” Lin Xiao bowed. By propriety he ought to address the Emperor formally, but his Imperial Uncle would not allow it, saying it felt too distant and cold. And so in private he still called him Imperial Uncle.
The Emperor nodded, then spoke with a pensive air: “Weijin, ever since you left Chang’an last month on the secret mission to handle the Wang Xingbang affair, I have been dreaming of Consort A’Hui these past several days.” A shadow crossed his face. “You know that Wang Xingbang is Consort A’Hui’s elder brother. I have always felt I owed Consort A’Hui a debt all these years, which is why I have extended every possible care and favor to the Wang Family. This time, when I secretly dispatched you to Huaiyang to make the necessary arrangements, it was my hope that you could help smooth things over for him before the censors submitted their impeachment, so that he would not be reduced to the position of a condemned prisoner.”
He paused, then looked at Lin Xiao with a gratified expression. “You did very well!”
“Your nephew only knew to act according to Your Imperial Uncle’s instructions — I dare not claim any credit for myself,” Lin Xiao replied. Wang Xingbang had spent years exploiting the Emperor’s indulgence to engage in lavish construction projects and unchecked corruption in Huaiyang. Officials at court had long sought to impeach him; had the Emperor not sent Lin Xiao to forewarn them in advance, the Wang Family might well have already faced utter ruin by now.
The Emperor wished to protect the Wang Family — but to do so with dignity and without leaving himself open to criticism. Such was the art of an emperor.
The Emperor sighed again. “All those years ago, it was at Yunyin Academy that I first came to know Consort A’Hui. These past days I have kept dreaming of every little moment we shared there. I have been wondering — might Consort A’Hui also wish to visit Yunyin Academy once more, and is she perhaps reaching out to me from beyond, asking me to reopen it?”
Lin Xiao inwardly furrowed his brow. His Imperial Uncle truly acted on whims as they came to him. After what had happened at Yunyin Academy all those years ago, it had been sealed shut for twenty years. Reopening it would require enormous effort and trouble — not to mention that the court officials were already opposed to establishing any academy for women. If his Imperial Uncle were to insist on reopening it, it would inevitably stir up a tremendous uproar.
“Your nephew is young. When Yunyin Academy was in its heyday, I had not yet been born, so I fear I am hardly in a position to advise Your Imperial Uncle on this matter,” he said, unable to do otherwise, and expressed his reservations in a tactful, roundabout way.
“Ah, never mind, never mind.” The Emperor also seemed to realize it was ill-advised. He fell silent for a moment, then rose to his feet. “The spring imperial examinations are only a few days away. There is much to attend to at court — let us head to the morning session early. Come, accompany your Imperial Uncle to Hanyuan Hall.”
Qin Yao left Prince Lan’s residence and did not return to the Qingyun Temple. Instead, she had Old Zhou drive the carriage to the Qu household.
Her brother’s day to sit the spring examinations was fast approaching, and she had been worrying about him ceaselessly these past two days. So the moment she arrived home, she went directly to her brother’s small courtyard.
Her brother had already risen and was seated at the window, lost in studious reading. He wore a pale blue scholar’s robe and a silk headband in the same color. His features were refined and handsome, his expression calm and serene. With several branches of peach blossoms drifting in through the window framing him, he looked more striking than any immortal depicted in a painting.
The young maidservants sweeping the courtyard kept stealing furtive glances in his direction, every one of them rouged and powdered, their faces full of spring yearning.
Haitang came out of the room with barely concealed indignation, and dropped her voice to a low, sharp scold: “The young master sits for his examinations in two days’ time, and you lot are dawdling about like this — do you think I don’t know what you’re up to?! Get away, all of you! If you disturb the young master’s studies, I’ll have your hides!”
Qin Yao suppressed a laugh. Good old Haitang — she truly was like a door deity standing guard at her brother’s side.
The little maidservants, caught out, flushed red with embarrassment and scattered like startled birds. Haitang turned on her heel in agitation — and nearly walked straight into Qin Yao. Her face instantly broke into delighted surprise. “Young Miss! You’re back!”
Qu Ziyu heard the commotion and looked up. “A’Yao.” He set down his book, stood, and came out to welcome her in long, easy strides.
Qin Yao exchanged a greeting with Haitang, then met her brother halfway and took his arm as they walked back into the room together.
Her heart was full of happiness. Her brother’s steps were steady and vigorous, his every movement brimming with vitality — not even the faintest shadow remained of the frail and sickly person he had once been.
“The day before yesterday at the Picking Moon Tower, Mother said you’d slipped away in the middle of browsing for jewelry and caused quite a stir when you didn’t come back. She’s been worrying ever since. Did something happen? Now that you’re done with your business, you ought to have sent word to Mother — the poor woman has been anxious,” said Ziyu, a note of mild reproach in his tone, though his voice was low and gentle enough to soften the rebuke considerably.
Qin Yao clapped a hand to her forehead. Oh no. She had been so busy dealing with Zhu Qi’er these past two days that she had completely forgotten about her mother.
She hurriedly explained to her brother everything that had happened at Prince Lan’s residence.
Ziyu had been holding his teacup; his hand stilled as he listened to what Qin Yao said. Setting aside the terrifying nature of the Gu Poison itself and the vicious cruelty of whoever had administered it — with one careless misstep, his younger sister could have fallen victim to it. And then there was the young heir of Prince Lan’s household. He had heard early on that the young heir was talented and accomplished for his age, highly favored by the Emperor — but it seemed he was far more calculating and deep than anyone had given him credit for. Fortunately, his sister had only gone to Prince Lan’s residence to perform an exorcism, so it was unlikely she would have too many dealings with him.
Come to think of it, his sister was already fourteen this year. Once the spring examinations were behind him, perhaps it was time to remind their parents to begin looking into marriage prospects for Qin Yao?
But his temperament was steady and composed, and though his thoughts ran in this direction, his face remained perfectly calm. When Qin Yao finished speaking, he feigned a look of surprise: “I had no idea it was so dangerous. I wrongly blamed you.”
“Exactly!” Qin Yao seized the moment to act spoiled. “I didn’t sleep a single wink all night — I’m about to drop from exhaustion right now!”
Ziyu reached over and patted Qin Yao’s head, his heart aching for her. “Father has gone to court. Go pay your respects to Mother for a bit, then go and rest.”
Qin Yao nodded and stood up to look over her brother’s desk. Seeing it covered in policy essays, she said, “Brother, you should rest these last few days — haven’t you heard the saying about conserving your strength and gathering your energy? Why push yourself so hard at this final hour?”
Ziyu made a sound of acknowledgement, his gaze following Qin Yao as he remarked with apparent casualness, “I hear that the young heir of Prince Lan’s household is the most outstanding among all the imperial princes. The Emperor intends to select a well-matched bride for him from among the noble families and aristocracy. There are quite a few court officials who are eager to form a marriage alliance with him. I wonder which family’s daughter he will eventually be betrothed to.”
Qin Yao looked up with a slightly surprised expression.
Qu Ziyu’s heart sank sharply.
“He isn’t engaged yet? I thought that someone of such lofty imperial birth would have had a childhood betrothal arranged from before he was even born. I assumed he’d been promised to someone long ago.” Her tone was perfectly open and matter-of-fact, without so much as a trace of self-consciousness.
Ziyu quietly let out a breath of relief. Qin Yao, utterly unconcerned, continued rummaging through the things on her brother’s desk. After a moment, she seemed to find something, and said in surprise: “Oh — who is Jízhōu?”
It was a policy essay, placed together with her brother’s own coursework, arguing on the subject of the governance of Yao and Shun. Its content was vigorous and impassioned; what was especially remarkable was that the calligraphy was bold and forceful, not the slightest bit inferior to her brother’s.
“A classmate of mine,” Ziyu explained. “I met him some time ago when I went to visit Master Ji at Nanshan. He is from Pingliang Commandery in Yuanzhou, and has long had a name for his talent. He has come to Chang’an for this spring’s examinations, and Master Ji, who admires his ability, has invited him to stay at Zhaozhao Lodge.”
Qin Yao was taken aback. Master Ji was one of the most celebrated scholars of the age; students throughout the realm counted it an honor to receive even a word of guidance from him. Yet his temperament was solitary and eccentric, and he rarely took on students.
This person called Jízhōu had come from afar with no prior connection to the master, and yet had managed to win his favor. It spoke to an extraordinary degree of talent and learning.
She had always believed her brother’s scholarship was already of the very highest order — but it seemed that beyond every horizon lay yet another, and beyond every talent lay someone greater still.