The Zhongyuan Festival was a day for family reunions, and one of the most important festivals of the year in the Great Zhou dynasty.
This day also marked the fullest moon of the year.
By custom, the Zhongyuan banquet began at midday. First came the feast, followed by the usual entertainments of song and dance. By evening, the gathering would move to the garden, where everyone would enjoy delicious mooncakes while admiring the moon.
The Emperor was in excellent spirits, and specially granted permission for Wei Yan, Imperial Physician Zhou, Daoist Yu, and others to attend the banquet. Commander of the Imperial Guard Yang Wei and Deputy Commander Sun Yi were also present. Besides these, several officials who had accompanied the Crown Prince and the Crown Grandson were there as well—the banquet was, in truth, quite crowded.
As it was unseemly for the consorts to share seating with the men, they were arranged at two separate tables, divided by a screen.
Fine wine and delicacies, cups passed back and forth—the feast had its own lively bustle.
Ling Jingshu, keeping Wei Yan’s warning firmly in mind, took the specially prepared detoxifying pills before the banquet. Consort Xian did the same. Once at the feast, Consort Xian barely touched a drop of wine, and ate very little of the food as well.
As a female official, Ling Jingshu had to wait until her mistress had finished eating before she could eat herself. She merely went through the motions with her chopsticks a couple of times and then stopped.
“Why are you eating so little?” Xinyun, standing beside her, asked with concern. “Doesn’t the food suit your taste?”
Ling Jingshu gave a covering smile. “I think I’ve caught a slight chill—my stomach feels a little unsettled, and I really can’t eat much.”
Hiding things this way felt unfair to Xinyun. But there were some secrets that simply weren’t suitable for her to know.
Xinyun, suspecting nothing, gave Ling Jingshu a sympathetic look. “On any ordinary day, you could just tell Consort Xian and go rest. But of all days, it has to be the Zhongyuan Festival, with the feast running all the way into the evening. We all have to stay ready to attend at any moment, with no chance to slip away. You’ll just have to bear with it a little longer.”
Ling Jingshu gave a casual murmur of acknowledgment while, without showing it, sweeping her eyes once around the surroundings.
Keeping her nerves wound this tight the whole time was, in truth, quite exhausting.
Yet the banquet proceeded with unexpected calm. Aside from everyone’s high spirits and somewhat heavier drinking, there was no sign of trouble whatsoever.
It was like clenching one’s fist, ready to strike with all one’s strength, only to find nothing but a blank, hazy emptiness ahead—no target, no clue at all. Even as she secretly felt relieved, an inexplicable frustration and unease welled up within her at the same time.
. . .
After the feast, everyone followed the Emperor into the main hall.
Here, too, everything had already been properly arranged.
The Emperor sat high upon the dragon throne, with the Crown Prince and Prince Yan seated to either side, and the Crown Grandson seated just below the Crown Prince. Further along were the seats of the palace’s various consorts.
Consort Xian, the highest-ranked and most favored among the consorts, shared a seat with Princess Anya.
Ling Jingshu stood behind Consort Xian in attendance, which placed her rather close to the Crown Grandson.
Wei Yan, meanwhile, sat at the far end of the hall with Imperial Physician Zhou. Between them, alluring dancers performed, making it nearly impossible to see each other’s faces clearly.
This was hardly the best moment for stealing glances across the room.
Ling Jingshu quickly composed herself, lowering her eyes and focusing wholly on attending to Consort Xian’s tea.
The Crown Grandson’s gaze drifted over indifferently; seeing Ling Jingshu show no reaction at all, his lips twisted in a touch of self-mocking amusement before he quickly looked away again.
“Your son offers Father a cup, wishing Father long life and good health,” Prince Yan declared loudly, raising his wine cup.
The Emperor, glowing with vitality, answered with a smile. “Good! I shall drink this cup together with my son!”
His gaze was so full of affection, his tone so gentle.
The Crown Prince’s heart sank slightly.
Knowing something was one thing; witnessing it with one’s own eyes was another.
This past year, Prince Yan had put in tremendous effort before the Emperor; far from growing resentful of him over the matter of the deposed empress, the Emperor had instead come to favor and trust him all the more. If this continued, Prince Yan might truly be able to rival him on the strength of the Emperor’s partiality alone.
A’Yao was right! Prince Yan, this dire threat at the heart of the matter, could no longer be allowed to remain. The moment a suitable opportunity arose, he must be eliminated…
After drinking with Prince Yan, the Emperor turned his gaze to the much-thinner Crown Grandson and sighed wistfully. “I never expected the Jiang family’s daughter to be so unfortunate, leaving us so early. A’Yao, I know you’re grieving. But however sad you are, you mustn’t ruin your own health over it.”
At the mention of Jiang Rongyue, the Crown Grandson’s body trembled faintly, his expression darkening for a moment.
“With Lin Ge’er having lost his mother, you, as his father, must take extra care of the child from now on.” Even as he spoke, the Emperor couldn’t help thinking of the long-deceased Empress Jiang.
The daughters of the Jiang family seemed born to lives of wealth and rank, yet every one of them was fated to a beauty cut short.
Empress Jiang of years past had, at least, managed to become the rightful empress and lived to see her son invested as Crown Prince before she finally closed her eyes in peace. Jiang Rongyue was even more pitiable—she had given everything to bring her child into the world, only to depart from this life the moment it was done.
The Crown Grandson murmured a low acknowledgment, his expression caught somewhere between sorrow and grief.
Prince Yan offered a hollow consolation. “A’Yao, you really must pull yourself together soon. Otherwise Father will only worry over you day and night.”
The Crown Grandson looked up and met Prince Yan’s eyes. “My thanks to Sixth Imperial Uncle for the reminder. I am well aware of where my priorities lie, and will never let this affair interfere with matters of state. Sixth Imperial Uncle would do better to keep his attention on Grandfather—with your devoted care, his health improves by the day. That way, Father and I can devote our full attention to the court as well.”
The last two lines, soft on the surface, carried a hidden barb.
A flicker passed through Prince Yan’s eyes, though his smile never wavered; inwardly, he gave a cold snort.
Just then, the languid, melodious music stopped, and the graceful, alluring dancers swiftly withdrew. In their place came a burst of stirring drums and music that set everyone’s spirits alight.
Two rows of women bearing long swords entered the hall, and to the rhythm of the drums, they wielded their blades with a whistling rush of wind. Every one of them was young, fair, and brimming with vigor.
After so much of the alluring song and dance, this strikingly different sword dance was a refreshing sight to behold.
The Crown Grandson’s eyes narrowed slightly; quietly on guard, he rested his right hand on the hilt of the blade at his waist.
Ling Jingshu unconsciously held her breath.
These young women performing the sword dance were all unfamiliar faces!
Each of them moved with agile skill, their swords weaving flower-like flourishes that left the eye dazzled. The one leading the dance in particular moved with crisp, decisive precision—clearly a master of some formidable skill!
This sword dance had been arranged by Prince Yan!
If a master of the highest order were hidden among them, and were to suddenly strike to assassinate…
A glint of admiration flashed in the Emperor’s eyes, and he praised the performance with a smile. “What a fine sword dance! These women all seem to be unfamiliar faces—wherever did you find them, my son?”
Prince Yan glanced at the Crown Grandson across from him, whose expression had turned cold and watchful, braced for whatever might come. A meaningful smile touched the corner of his mouth. “Reporting to Father: this sword dance was specially arranged and rehearsed by your son’s order, to be presented as a gift to you. These women were all carefully sought out by your son, most of them possessing some genuine skill—which is why the dance turns out so striking to watch. I wonder, does it please Father?”