Having seen Shen Xiao twice in the space of a single day had left Li Shu thoroughly unsettled. That night she slept poorly, dreaming fitfully for half the night.
The dreams were full of… the events of that one night.
Never in her wildest imaginings had she expected that she, Li Shu, would one day have such dreams.
Because she had slept so badly, Li Shu had been hoping to lie in, but then a messenger arrived from the palace saying that the Emperor wished to see her — and so before dawn had even broken, Hong Luo was shaking her awake, and she sat blearily before the mirror.
Wiping her face, doing her hair, applying her cosmetics, fetching her clothes — every attending maidservant moved in a well-ordered sequence, without making a sound. It seemed to Li Shu that she had barely dozed off when she looked up and found her hair and face already complete.
The bronze mirror reflected a delicate oval face — not a stunning beauty, but with fine, neat features, giving an impression of gentle elegance. Yet the sharp inner corners of her eyes and the cool cast of her gaze meant she always seemed distant and cold no matter how one looked at her.
The women of Great Ye considered stately grace and plumpness beautiful, and so Li Shu could not truly claim the word “beauty” for her own.
Since she was meeting the Emperor today, the maidservants had lengthened the outer corners of her eyes and softened the inner, and the chill in her expression was much gentled as a result.
A newly made set of ruby red agate ornaments complemented her lip color, making her complexion look all the more porcelain-pale. The swaying hair ornaments and jade pins gleamed against one another — though the effect was somewhat marred by a plain gold hairpin stuck in at an angle. The pin was unremarkable in the extreme: unadorned from end to end, and rather dull in color, clearly an old piece from years ago.
Even Hong Luo, who was herself only a maidservant, would have turned her nose up at such a hairpin.
And yet no one knew why Princess Pingyang — who otherwise wore nothing but the most sumptuous and costly things — wore this plain, shabby gold pin every single day without fail.
Dressing complete, seven or eight maidservants lined up in a row, each presenting a different magnificent robe for her consideration. Li Shu was idly making her selection when she heard the junior eunuch outside bow and announce: “My lady, the prince consort is waiting at the inner gate wall.”
Li Shu asked, puzzled: “Father Emperor hasn’t summoned him — what is he waiting for me for?”
The junior eunuch replied: “The Eastern Palace has sent for him, and the prince consort is due in the palace to see the Crown Prince. Since Your Highness is also going to the palace, the prince consort says he will wait a moment for you and go together.”
Li Shu gave a dismissive laugh.
Cui Jinzhi waiting for her? The sun must have risen in the west. It was not for her sake that he was waiting — he must have something to say to her. If it weren’t for some pressing matter, the two of them as husband and wife would never speak at all.
Since he had come with a request, he could stand there at the gate wall and wait. She had plenty of time — she needn’t arrive at the palace until noon.
Li Shu changed her robes at a leisurely pace, then spent another leisurely stretch inspecting her face in the mirror. By the time the sun had risen and the hour of si was approaching, she finally gave the unhurried order for her carriage to be prepared, and went out.
Cui Jinzhi had been waiting at the inner gate wall for two full quarters of an hour. He looked distinctly impatient, his brow furrowed, eyes closed as if in meditation.
As Li Shu drew near, she noticed the faint shadows of sleeplessness beneath his eyes — he had clearly not been sleeping well lately.
She still vaguely remembered the first time she had seen him: in that remote and neglected palace, weeds growing rampant, she had been all but abandoned and forgotten, nearly swallowed by the overgrowth. And then a resplendent young nobleman had walked in — the only living thing in that ruined courtyard.
He was twenty-five now. His face still resembled that young face in her memory, but the vibrant, unguarded energy of his youth was completely gone.
Now he stood with a deep furrow between his brows, like any other seasoned official at court, submerged in scheming and affairs of state.
Ten years. Li Shu was no longer the unloved concubine’s daughter in that neglected palace, and Cui Jinzhi had long since shed his dissolute young-nobleman air for a composed and sober bearing.
Li Shu came back to herself and saw that Cui Jinzhi had already opened his eyes. His gaze was deep and fixed upon her with an expression whose meaning was unmistakable — he had official business to discuss.
Li Shu gave a cool, brief nod and said, “Let’s go,” then stepped forward.
*
The carriage rolled along the wide avenue of the Thirteen Princes’ Ward, wheels crunching softly, which only deepened the strange silence inside the cabin. Cui Jinzhi and Li Shu sat on opposite sides.
They had not been alone together in a room for a very long time. Li Shu found, to her own surprise, that she could hardly bear even the sound of his breathing.
She broke the silence first, and said: “Say what you need to say.”
Cui Jinzhi raised his eyes to her face. “Do you know why the Emperor has summoned you today?”
Li Shu did not answer his question immediately. She held her gaze on him — steady and piercing — until Cui Jinzhi was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable, before she let a cool smile drift across her lips. “Because of the new top scholar, Shen Xiao.”
Cui Jinzhi lifted an eyebrow — visibly surprised. “How did you know?”
Li Shu said evenly: “Yesterday’s New Scholars’ Banquet was the young man’s first official appearance. I imagine his official appointment will be announced any day now. Father Emperor admires Shen Xiao’s talent and personally elevated him to top scholar — so the post he is given won’t be a trivial one. But…” Li Shu let out a faint, cold laugh, and continued: “The posts at court are all held by the great noble families, who will never willingly yield a good position to a commoner. The Crown Prince relies on exactly those great families for support — bound together in mutual dependence — and so the Crown Prince naturally opposes whatever Father Emperor has in mind for Shen Xiao’s appointment. Father Emperor has no one to discuss this with, and so he calls me in to soothe him.”
Li Shu raised an eyebrow. “Am I right?”
Across from her, Cui Jinzhi’s expression showed a flicker of genuine admiration. He smiled. “There is nothing at court that escapes your notice.”
Li Shu received his admiration and flattery with complete indifference, turning her head away. Her voice remained detached: “I know more than that. I know what it is you’ve come to discuss with me today.”
“You want me to whisper in Father Emperor’s ear later, and persuade him to give Shen Xiao some minor post and leave it at that. Isn’t that right?”
Cui Jinzhi smiled. “You have guessed correctly on every count — except one: it is not I who wants this. It is the Crown Prince.”
“I see…”
Li Shu nodded slowly, her gaze settling on Cui Jinzhi — sharp and incisive. “What a faithful dog for the Crown Prince.”
Hearing himself described in those terms, Cui Jinzhi showed no sign of anger. He simply gave a quiet laugh. “Sparrow, you and I are alike in this. Without the Crown Prince, neither of us could survive at court.”
His voice was low and drawn out — like aged sandalwood incense steeped in water for years, his laughter seeming to ring right beside her ear. A very pleasing voice. And yet Li Shu distinctly remembered that when he was young, he had possessed a clear, bright voice with nothing of the world in it.
Ten years. They had both changed so much.
Hearing what Cui Jinzhi said, Li Shu’s expression gradually stilled.
Yes — she could mock Cui Jinzhi all she liked, but was she not herself the Crown Prince’s faithful dog? She was bound to the Crown Prince’s ship from the day she had married Cui Jinzhi, and the Cui Family stood with the Crown Prince.
She leaned back against the carriage wall, and slowly — almost silently — allowed a sardonic smile to surface on her lips. “I understand. I will speak to Father Emperor and put this out of his head.”
Li Shu had been born to a concubine of little standing — her mother had been a lowly dancer, who had died early. But Li Shu had been sharp-witted since childhood, with a keen eye for court politics, and Emperor Zhengyuan took great pleasure in discussing affairs of state with her.
With the substantive matter settled, the two of them sat facing each other in silence. Li Shu noticed the dark circles under Cui Jinzhi’s eyes and guessed that he had been kept busy lately with official affairs and sleeping poorly. She still, despite herself, felt a stab of concern. She cleared her throat and said with studied casualness: “How is the work at Yongtong Canal going?”
Yongtong Canal was a waterway on the southern outskirts of Chang’an, connecting to the water transport routes from the Yangtze south. In years when the Guanzhong region suffered drought, the grain from the south had always been transported into the capital through Yongtong Canal. But this year’s drought was particularly severe, and the canal had long fallen into disrepair — boats could no longer navigate it. The southern grain could not reach Guanzhong. The Crown Prince had been put in charge of managing the drought and was overseeing canal repairs. One round of conscripted laborers after another had been sent, yet progress was agonizingly slow. Three months had passed and the canal was not even half finished. The Emperor criticized the Crown Prince daily for his incompetence. The Crown Prince was out of options, and had deployed the Ministry of War in addition to the Ministry of Works, hoping that Cui Jinzhi would go to the construction site in person to oversee the work and complete it within three months — otherwise the drought could truly spin out of control.
Cui Jinzhi sighed at the mention of it and rubbed the spot between his brows. “Yongtong Canal is just the same mess it always is. The laborers drag their feet terribly. Even with my soldiers stationed there to oversee them now — I’ve even had a few of the ringleaders in their shirking executed — the rest still go about their work with the same sluggish, careless air, as though they have no fear of death whatsoever.”
“Ha…” Li Shu gave a scornful laugh.
Cui Jinzhi frowned. “What is there to laugh at?”
Li Shu said: “I’m laughing because you and the Crown Prince are both fools.”
Cui Jinzhi’s expression darkened. “Li Shu, if you have something to say, say it plainly. Don’t be snide.”
A moment ago he’d been calling her “Sparrow” when he needed something from her. Now he was displeased and it was back to her full name.
The sardonic smile on Li Shu’s lips didn’t budge. “You’re just fools — can I not say so? Do you know what price a measure of grain commands in Chang’an right now?”
Cui Jinzhi shook his head. A nobleman born into privilege — when would he ever pay attention to the price of a measure of grain in the marketplace?
Li Shu said: “One hundred coins per measure. And the daily wages paid to canal laborers are also one hundred coins a month. They work themselves to exhaustion for a month, and all they earn is barely enough to buy a single measure of grain. How many days will that feed a whole family? How could they possibly throw themselves into the work?”
Cui Jinzhi creased his brow. “But if Yongtong Canal is completed sooner, the grain from the south can be transported into Chang’an sooner — and naturally the grain price will fall. They ought to understand that.”
Li Shu’s voice went cold. “When you’re dying of starvation right now, who has the luxury of worrying about the future?”
Cui Jinzhi pondered this. “Your meaning is… the Ministry of Works should increase the wages paid to the laborers?”
A second scornful laugh from Li Shu. “Wages? The drought continues — grain prices will only rise, never fall. Today it is one hundred coins per measure; tomorrow it may be one thousand coins per measure. Can the Crown Prince raise wages fast enough to keep pace with grain prices?”
Li Shu lifted the carriage curtain. Outside, one nobleman’s mansion after another rolled past; the gates of the Second Prince’s residence flashed by. Li Shu’s eyes held not a trace of feeling as she said with utter detachment: “Cui Jinzhi, you were right — you and I are both tied to the Crown Prince’s rope, and if the Crown Prince loses favor with Father Emperor, neither of us will survive at court. I’ll show you one path forward. Whether or not you can press down the Second Prince depends entirely on this one move.”
“What path?”
“Four words: grain in place of coin.”
“Grain in place of coin?”
Cui Jinzhi was taken aback for a moment, then quickly grasped the full implication of those four words. His eyes lit up, and he called out: “Stop the carriage — stop it at once!”
The carriage drew to a halt. Cui Jinzhi threw back the curtain and jumped out.
From outside came the sound of a horse neighing, then the rapid beat of hooves fading into the distance.
Cui Jinzhi had galloped off. He was in a hurry to go to the Eastern Palace to discuss the idea of grain-in-place-of-coin with the Crown Prince.
Li Shu sat in silence in the carriage and watched him ride away.
For a long moment she said nothing.
The coachman, receiving no orders, did not dare to move. After standing still for nearly the length of time it takes a stick of incense to burn, he finally ventured to ask: “My lady…?”
Li Shu seemed to rouse herself, as if only just remembering where she was. “Drive on,” she said.
She drew her gaze back inside the carriage, and turned a silent, sardonic smile on herself.
Laughing at herself, she thought: the only thing about her that still had any use to offer was this — and even so, Cui Jinzhi wouldn’t have spoken a word to her otherwise.