The very next day, Ye Tingyan submitted a request for leave.

He was always diligent in his duties and rarely did such a thing. Song Lan sent someone to inquire and received word that he had caught a chill.

Though no one could say how a chill was to be had in the middle of summer, Song Lan nonetheless sent an imperial physician to deliver medicine as a gesture of imperial favor.

The physician who returned also reported that Master Ye had indeed been blown by the wind for reasons unknown, and had come down with quite a bad fever. Fortunately he was resting well and, with a period of recuperation, would be fully recovered.

Luowei sat beside Song Lan, idly picking up a handful of melon seeds from the table to play with. In her mind, however, she suddenly conjured up the scene of Ye Tingyan, in order to deflect Song Lan, having to stand in the wind all night after returning home. The more she thought about it, the more amusing she found it.

It happened that at that moment Song Lan looked over: “What is Eldest Sister laughing at?”

Luowei said lazily: “Nothing in particular. A refined scholar like Master Ye will have to endure real suffering when he is ill. Zi Lan should take good care to comfort him.”

Song Lan tossed aside the memorial in his hand and laughed: “Eldest Sister thinks him a refined scholar? He comes from a family of generals. His martial skills are no small matter—he simply does not like to show them in ordinary circumstances.”

He had dispatched Ye Tingyan to follow her, never intending to hide it from her. These words now, spoken at this moment, were a veiled warning directed at her.

Luowei rolled one melon seed after another between her fingers, and following the current of his thoughts, she spoke in a teasing tone: “Such a fine talent—is he not exactly the sort to serve His Majesty? This consort congratulates Your Majesty.”

Song Lan then exchanged a few more jesting remarks with her.

That day, before she had even looked through a few memorials, Song Lan said it had grown late and called for the evening meal to be brought. Luowei kept him company through dinner, then claimed she was feeling unwell. Song Lan fussed over her carefully before departing to the chambers of Lady Yan.

This Lady Yan had once been an attendant at the side of Song Lan’s birth mother, the Empress Dowager Chenghui. Her name was Yan Yu. When Song Lan was seeking to wed Luowei, he had sworn with great conviction that he would never open the rear palace to other women. Later, unable to withstand the pressure, he had nonetheless taken in Yu Qiushi’s daughter and this attendant sent by the Empress Dowager Chenghui.

Counting them up, however, his rear palace amounted to no more than three people—a sparse number compared to the dynasties before.

After Song Lan had gone, Luowei returned to Qionghua Hall with Yan Luo. Liu Xi’s disciple, Liu Mingzhong, had not accompanied the imperial retinue and was now following at a distance behind her.

After walking a few steps, Luowei asked: “Has the Grand Empress Dowager caused any disturbances lately?”

Liu Mingzhong said quietly: “She has. These days His Majesty frequently visits Lady Yan’s chambers. He is worried that if the Grand Empress Dowager has a fit in the night and the physicians cannot arrive in time, it could disturb the peace of the entire rear palace.”

After Song Lan ascended the throne, he bestowed upon his birth mother the title of Empress Dowager Chenghui and brought her into the rear palace to recuperate. The court officials, citing the fact that she had once been a consort in the late Emperor’s rear palace and was not favored by the late Emperor, objected to the Empress Dowager Chenghui serving as regent. This was what had given Luowei and Yu Qiushi the opportunity to counterbalance each other.

But only a very few intimates knew the truth: regardless of whether the officials objected, the Empress Dowager Chenghui could never have served as regent.

——Because she suffered from madness.

Her madness was different from the unpredictable heart ailment that Ye Tingyan carried. It was not an illness that lay dormant within the body, one that ordinarily would not be noticed by others. When it flared, she could turn violent and harm people.

It was said that from the time she had been confined to the West Garden and the Orchid Fragrance Chambers, she had already had this condition, her mind in a constant state of confusion, unable to care properly for Song Lan, and so he had suffered considerably at the hands of spiteful servants.

The first time Luowei went to pay her respects, the madness happened to strike. Several attendants pressed down her hands and feet with all their might to prevent her from suddenly lunging out and hurting someone.

And Song Lan had knelt at one side, his expression blank.

A servant was applying medicine to the back of his hand, which had been scalded. The floor was strewn with the shards of broken medicine bowls.

Though the more carefully Luowei observed these things over the years, the more she found Song Lan deeply unsettling. Yet his treatment of the only family member he had left in this world was genuinely good—so good that Luowei could detect no fault in it whatsoever.

When the Empress Dowager Chenghui had first received her title, she kept believing she was still in the late Emperor’s rear palace and had received the Empress’s honorific title. She made scenes demanding to be housed in the Kunning Hall. Song Lan was at a loss. Luowei, in kind gesture, vacated the Kunning Hall and moved to the somewhat secluded Qionghua Hall.

This arrangement suited her perfectly. The late Emperor’s first Empress had originally lived in Kunning Hall as well, and had only moved to this Qionghua Hall, with its fine garden, after falling ill.

After asking a few more questions, Luowei dismissed Liu Mingzhong.

Watching him leave, Yan Luo said: “I have already delivered Your Majesty’s invitation cards as instructed.”

Luowei said: “Good.”

Yan Luo hesitated slightly: “These few days Master Ye is on sick leave—I wonder if…”

Luowei was quiet for a moment before saying: “It is no matter. With his intelligence, even if he had not been there to consult with me that day, he would have known on his own where the lines are.”

*

Perhaps because this year had an intercalary second month, and the Start of Summer had come late, the lotus flowers at Huiling Lake had bloomed several days later than in previous years. The small pond behind Qionghua Hall flowered even later than Huiling Lake. After Song Lan had given his permission, a full several more days passed before Luowei was able to host this intimate banquet in the palace.

Besides the sparse imperial clansmen and relatives, Song Lan had also invited a number of high officials and close attendants. They banqueted on the pavilion terrace over Huiling Lake, while the female guests were invited by Luowei to Qionghua Hall.

The case of the ballad had never been investigated to any clear conclusion. Fortunately the ballad had only circulated among the common people for a few days before being suppressed. Today Song Lan was in rare high spirits. Leaning against the railing, he looked at the lotus flowers in full bloom behind him and said: “Last year we had more seeds planted. This year the flowers bloom more abundantly than in any year before.”

The palace’s dancers and musicians were performing in the pavilion. The dancers’ costumes suited the season beautifully—pale pink and white gauze, tender green fairy skirts, their figures graceful and swaying.

As Song Lan spoke these words, Ye Tingyan happened to come forward to offer a toast and, hearing him, said: “Looking southward upon the clear and empty river, gazing at the lotus flowers—crimson upon crimson and red upon red. In such a beautiful moment and charming scene, this servant congratulates Your Majesty.”

Song Lan smiled and drank his wine: “It is always said that lotuses are worthy of love—I wish to gather their petals and fashion them into a skirt. I hear that in Beiyou, the wandering heroes all called you ‘Master Lotus Blossom’?”

Ye Tingyan then said: “It was only a name they called me in jest.”

Under ordinary circumstances he rarely suffered his heart ailment during the daytime. That day, in the presence of Luowei’s words, his emotions had run beyond his control, and he had driven his own vital force into revolt—nearly exposing himself.

Indeed, she needed only a word or two to reduce him to retreating in disarray.

That day, after Pei Xi had sent him back to his residence, Bai Sensen had also taken fright and rushed forward to administer needles and medicine, only then managing to calm him.

This episode of his heart ailment had been far more severe than in times past. Seeing that he was unable to attend court the next day, Bai Sensen had had no choice but to prescribe him another remedy that would actually induce the symptoms of a chill, thereby fooling the imperial physician whom Song Lan had dispatched.

Song Lan, seeing that his complexion was still pallid, quickly bade him return to his seat. After Ye Tingyan sat down, he could still hear the contemptuous remarks being made by several of the upright officials beside Yu Qiushi.

Nothing more than calling him a fawning villain, naturally. Ye Tingyan heard it and felt no anger. Instead he smiled faintly and raised his cup toward those old officials in a toast.

While he was navigating the undercurrents and hidden dangers of the banquet, there was unusual liveliness inside Luowei’s hall.

Although the Empress had already been something of a name in Biandu while still a maiden in her family home—and people at all manner of large and small banquets had seen her—in the years since Song Lan ascended the throne, there had been few occasions for meetings. She had governed as a woman in her own right, which in itself was an undertaking with a thousand threads and ten thousand strands to manage. She had cut herself off entirely from any social contact with the wives and noble ladies of various official households, afraid of being accused of forming factional alliances for personal gain.

The daughters of great families either envied Luowei her grip on power, or envied the deep affection between the Emperor and Empress. The descendants of honest and upright scholars, on the other hand, secretly marveled: the Empress was young, yet she had already shown herself capable of moving between the inner court and the outer court with the right measure of advance and retreat, handling affairs with skill and discernment—somehow managing to sidestep every single situation that could have brought accusations against her, giving no one any flaw to seize upon. This was no small achievement.

Luowei drank a cup of lotus leaf wine set at her side, the corner of her lips curving upward.

Ever since rising to her current position, she had labored painstakingly over her own reputation. Now she had earned the respect of those present, and before long it would all come into use.

She swept a glance across those seated below and asked the palace servant at her side: “Has the Princess Imperial Shu Kang arrived?”

The servant replied: “She has. This servant saw Her Highness take her attendants toward the rear hall.”

So Luowei excused herself on the pretext of changing her clothes and returned to the inner hall.

Today the banquet was being held. The palace servants of Qionghua Hall had all moved to the painted hall beside the small pond to receive the guests. Those left inside the hall were only a fraction of the usual number, and the inner chamber had been instructed accordingly—at this moment only Yan Luo was standing watch there.

Song Yaofeng was intimately familiar with the layout of this palace. Had she been otherwise, she likely could not have found her way here on her own.

She walked into the hall, pulled the door shut, and Yan Luo stepped forward to meet her: “Her Highness has gone to Your Majesty’s inner chamber.”

Luowei made a sound of acknowledgment and, before entering, reached back and took Yan Luo’s hand: “Come in with me.”

The inner chamber was narrow. Song Lan had proposed countless times that Luowei move to another palace in Qionghua Hall—there were many halls here more spacious than this one, and their inner chambers could accommodate even the great Buddhist statue in Xiuqing Temple, let alone these few offering tables.

But Luowei insisted on staying here, and in time Song Lan had stopped mentioning it.

She lifted the curtain and saw Song Yaofeng standing before the three paintings she had hung on the wall, gazing up at them with rapt attention.

The incense burner on the offering table was lit with three sticks of incense, the fragrance of sandalwood rising in dense, lingering clouds.

Luowei called out: “Shu Kang.”

Song Yaofeng did not turn around. She only replied simply: “Yes.”

Luowei asked: “Does your husband treat you well?”

Song Yaofeng remained sparing with her words: “Very well.”

Luowei said quietly: “That is good.”

Song Yaofeng slowly turned. She first saw Yan Luo standing at Luowei’s side, and looked her up and down carefully: “Every time I see you like this, I feel a strange, dazed sensation. Xuechu’s skill with disguise is truly remarkable. The changes are not drastic, and yet you look utterly different from before. If you were to mingle among the women in the front hall, they would surely not recognize you. Only to me do you still seem familiar.”

Yan Luo showed one of her rare smiles: “Xuechu says that to be truly unrecognizable, one would need to use a preparation that is said to be agonizingly painful. Back in the inner quarters, the people I had met were not many. I am afraid of pain, and if I truly used that preparation, even you might no longer recognize me.”

Song Yaofeng sat down on the meditation cushion before the paintings, stretched in a wholly unguarded way, then looked at Luowei: “Are you content, playing the role of Empress?”

Luowei sat down beside her and, taking a leaf from her book, was equally sparing with her words: “Very content.”

Yan Luo could not help but cover her mouth and laugh.

The three of them sat like that for a while in the inner chamber, fragrant with rising incense smoke, and no one spoke further. When those three sticks of incense had burned down by half, Luowei rose: “I have been away too long—it would be rude. I will go back first.”

Song Yaofeng murmured: “Indeed you should go back.”

Luowei and Yan Luo left the inner chamber together and made their way back toward the small pond. They had only just caught a glimpse of the pavilion’s pointed roof in the distance when a palace eunuch came stumbling and rolling toward them, throwing himself down before her: “Your Majesty, something is wrong—”

Yan Luo said sharply: “Speak properly before Her Majesty.”

“Yes, yes,” the little eunuch stammered in repeated reply. “Your Majesty, please hurry to Huiling Lake to see for yourself—His Majesty has been seized with a great fury.”

Luowei made an instant decision. She dispatched Yan Luo to go back and reassure the female guests in the front hall, then followed the little eunuch toward Huiling Lake: “Tell me slowly—what has happened?”

The little eunuch said: “Today His Majesty was banqueting at Huiling Lake with the various officials, and was in very high spirits. He had someone bring out a set of twelve lotus-pendant gold cups to bestow upon each of the officials. But somehow, among those cups—somehow a copper one had been mixed in! The cup was made most convincingly—had it not been for Master Ye, who spends much time with copper weapons and detected the scent of copper beneath the gilded surface, it might not have been discovered at all.”

“What is more, when Master Ye stripped away the outer shell of that copper lotus-pendant cup, a sentence of treason was found inscribed upon it.”

Luowei asked: “What words?”

The little eunuch stumbled over his answer: “This—this, Your servant does not dare to say.”

“Is it the False Dragon’s Lament?”

“No, no,” the little eunuch shook his head repeatedly. “Even worse than that—Your Majesty had best go and see for yourself.”

The right corner of Luowei’s eye gave an abrupt twitch.

Qionghua Hall and Huiling Lake were not far apart. Walking there took only a moment. When Luowei arrived at the banquet terrace by Huiling Lake, she saw it had already been encircled by men in the colors of Zhuque. Seeing her arrive, the man at the head moved slightly to the side to admit her.

For some reason, Luowei felt there was something faintly familiar about the man in the lead.

She walked forward and saw Song Lan seated at the head of the gathering, his face a dark iron-grey, turning in his hand the copper cup whose gilded surface had been stripped away. The various officials at the terrace wore expressions of all kinds. Ye Tingyan caught sight of her arrival, and the hand holding the cup gave an involuntary tremor. Seeing that she had not glanced his way, he slowly drank down his wine.

Luowei had no time to attend to this. She went straight forward. Song Lan, without a word, extended his hand and passed the copper cup to her. She took it and looked—and saw inscribed at the bottom of the cup, in characters so small they were nearly invisible, a single line.

——The false dragon lacks virtue; the reed flowers of the waterside have been wronged.

In an instant, Luowei felt a sudden chill run the length of her spine.

The words she herself had intended to be inscribed on this copper cup—were not these words at all.