This unexpected incident put an end to the evening welcome banquet at the Commander’s Residence, and the Crown Prince was in no mood for festivities. Yet the guests being received were the official envoys representing the Western Di king — the banquet could not simply be canceled. So he remained in his seat, though his mind was far away, and after sitting down for a short while, excused himself on the pretense of changing his clothes and temporarily withdrew.
His heart was with the young woman, and he was unwilling to send servants to inquire on his behalf — he went personally to the quarters where she was lodging. The physician had just finished his examination, and Ju A’mu was seeing him out. Li Chengyu stopped him and asked about the situation. He learned that there was no serious cause for concern; the young lady had only received a fright, and the physician had already prescribed a calming and settling draught. Only then did he feel somewhat relieved.
He instructed Ju A’mu to take careful and attentive care of the young lady, to not be careless, and to come find him without hesitation if anything arose. After giving these instructions, he turned back and returned to his seat.
Sitting there again, he savored the memory of that moment by the spring pool under the flowering trees — the young lady slowly turning her head to look at him — and found himself deeply struck by her loveliness. Listening to her play the Phoenix Terrace melody on the qin, even with its errors, a bit of guidance on his part and she would surely become a rare kindred spirit in music. He also thought of how, after her fall into the water, when he had rescued her and was carrying her back, she must have been terrified — she had curled against his chest like a small bird taking shelter, truly pitiful and truly endearing. These wandering thoughts kept leading him astray, and he found himself drifting off so completely that when the Western Di envoy, trying to draw him into friendly conversation, had the interpreter ask him about the customs and scenery of the capital, he did not even hear it — and only snapped back to attention when his attendant sun Ji, sitting beside him, quietly tugged at his sleeve.
Li Xuandu glanced at his nephew and knew he had certainly gone to see the Pu girl just now.
At this point the envoy turned toward him and asked what time they would set out tomorrow.
Li Xuandu had the interpreter relay his answer: the hour of si, and by that time all the supplies needed for the road would be ready. He asked whether the envoy had any additional requests.
This envoy had been thoroughly worn down by the little prince throughout the journey; now that someone capable of keeping the boy in check had appeared, whatever Li Xuandu said went. He agreed to everything without hesitation, immediately nodded in assent, and said he had no further requests.
Li Xuandu then asked the Crown Prince whether he would travel with them the next day.
Li Chengyu could think of no plausible excuse for staying behind, and with his attendant Sun Ji watching from the side, he had no choice but to nod reluctantly and say he would join them on the road.
Li Xuandu smiled. “Then it is settled thus.”
As it was an early morning departure, everyone had attendants and a good deal to pack; the gathering had run its course in any case, and so the feast came to an end.
Yang Hong arranged for people to escort the envoy and his party back to the relay station to rest, then accompanied the Crown Prince back to the west courtyard. After walking a few steps, the Crown Prince dismissed his attendants and beckoned Yang Hong forward to walk alongside him, and as they went, he said in a casual, conversational tone, “We have imposed on Commander Yang during our stay here.”
Yang Hong hastily replied, “How could I dare receive such words from Your Highness the Crown Prince? Whatever I am today, I owe entirely to Your Highness’s recognition and promotion. Even if I were to give my body and crush my bones in service, it would not be enough to repay the grace of the court!”
Li Chengyu offered him a word or two of encouragement, then shifted the topic, lowering his voice. “I recall that a few days ago you mentioned a daughter of an old acquaintance living in your household. Where is she from? What is the reason she has been staying with you all this time?”
He paused.
“If not for her intervention in saving the little prince today, it might well have been the little prince who fell into the water. I am deeply grateful, and wish to reward her.”
Yang Hong hesitated.
He had already heard from Zhang Shi about the Pu girl falling into the water while saving the little prince in the garden that evening; he had been somewhat preoccupied with it in his mind and had intended to go and check on her after seeing the guests off. It had not occurred to him that the Crown Prince would suddenly inquire into her background.
Six years ago, thanks to the current Emperor’s general amnesty, the Pu girl had long since been freed of her criminal status — but her grandfather’s crime had been too sensitive a matter. He had no idea what the Crown Prince’s attitude toward the Pu family might be, and if he spoke recklessly and inadvertently brought trouble upon the young lady, that would be his own fault.
Not wanting to say anything, Yang Hong gave a vague, evasive answer: that she was the daughter of an old friend who had once done him a great kindness, and that due to a family calamity she had found herself with no one to rely on, so he had taken her in.
Li Chengyu was a perceptive man; how could he fail to detect that Yang Hong was putting him off? He was somewhat displeased, and stopped walking, frowning. “I am asking only out of concern. Who is this woman, and why do you evade and dodge my question?” Having said this, he strode briskly ahead.
Yang Hong knew the Crown Prince was unhappy.
The Pu girl’s identity was no great secret; she had been living in his household for all these years. If the Crown Prince had made up his mind, he could send someone to Fulu Zhen and find out with a single inquiry — there was no use in concealing it.
He hesitated, then hurried to catch up, and with a measure of boldness ventured to probe: “Your Highness, your servant dares to ask — what is Your Highness’s view of Minister Pu, who was convicted in the great case of the thirty-ninth year of Xuanning?”
Li Chengyu gave a start and looked at him. “A capable servant of the state, a great literary figure of the realm — yet in his old age he grew muddled and fell in with the Liang Crown Prince in plotting treason, and brought ruin upon himself. A pity.”
Yang Hong heard that his tone held no deep revulsion or contempt, and after a moment’s hesitation, finally said: “She bears the surname Pu, and is indeed the granddaughter of Minister Pu. At the time of her conviction and exile to the frontier, she was still very young. Her father once did me a great kindness, and so I presumed to take her in.”
Li Chengyu was astonished and stopped walking. “What did you say? She is the granddaughter of Pu Youzhi?”
Yang Hong bowed his head. “Indeed. Every word your servant has just spoken is true. When the young lady was sent to the frontier as a criminal, she was only eight years old — her circumstances were most pitiable. Her character is equally fine; all who know her speak well of her. Today she saved the little prince, and it was also her way of repaying the imperial court’s grace in granting the general amnesty.”
Yang Hong remained worried that the Crown Prince might hold the girl’s grandfather’s crime against her, and covertly used his words as a reminder: not only was the Pu girl’s character beyond reproach, she was also entirely without criminal status. He finished speaking and stole a glance at the Crown Prince.
The young Crown Prince stood rooted to the spot, motionless, lost in thoughts that no one could read.
Yang Hong waited a moment, just about to probe the Crown Prince’s position once more, when he saw him suddenly seem to come back to himself and say, “I understand. You may withdraw — no need to see me further.”
Yang Hong assented and, feeling that the Crown Prince did not appear to intend any ill toward the Pu girl, quietly breathed a sigh of relief.
It was nearing the end of the hour of xu. The little prince was still in Pu Zhu’s quarters, eyes bright and face cheerful as he sampled all manner of delicate pastries he had not been able to find in Yinyue City or along the road these past days: walnut cake, date cake, and a plate of apricot blossom cake made by Ju A’mu — he ate them with great satisfaction. The attendants who had followed him over were waiting outside and had called for him to return several times already, but he paid them no heed.
Pu Zhu’s heart was a little uneasy. For one thing, she worried he might eat too much and suffer indigestion in the night; for another, she had no wish to inadvertently offend Li Xuandu. Seeing that he had finally finished the piece of flower cake in his hand and given a contented belch, she quickly covered the remaining sweets before he could reach for another, took a handkerchief, and dabbed the crumbs from the corners of his mouth, coaxing him to return.
The little prince’s eyes were fixed on the cakes; he shook his head vigorously. “I won’t go back! I don’t want to sleep with Fourth Brother! Every day he makes me wash my feet! It’s driving me mad! Let me sleep here tonight — won’t you let me?”
Before reaching a certain position, Pu Zhu had no wish to offend anyone, and that naturally included this scheming imperial uncle, Li Xuandu.
She cajoled, “Your Fourth Brother is a good person — the very best kind. If you say things like that about him, he’ll be sad to hear it.”
Saying such blatant falsehoods, Pu Zhu herself felt a shiver of goosebumps rise all over her skin.
The little prince laughed heartily. “He won’t be sad — he’s never been nice to me! Not like you, who just met me today and already saved me. Why are you so good to me?”
Pu Zhu said with great earnestness, “The moment I saw you I felt a natural affinity, as if we had met somewhere before. When you were in danger, of course I had to save you.”
The little prince stared at her in astonishment. “Really?”
“Really — we have a bond!” Pu Zhu nodded vigorously. “You need to set out early tomorrow morning. Besides, it’s already quite late, and I’m afraid if you eat any more you’ll upset your stomach. How about going to bed, hmm?”
The little prince was still not particularly willing. At this point Ju A’mu came in, smiled, and pointed toward the outside; from outside came the voice of Ye Xiao: “Your Royal Highness the Prince, Prince Qin commands me to come and escort you back to rest!”
The little prince was rather afraid of this man with the knife scar across his face, and knew he had no hope of holding out. He rubbed his round, plump belly, gave another belch, and slowly hauled himself up from where he was sitting.
After making the hair oil, there had been some apricot blossoms left over — too precious to discard, and so Pu Zhu had dried the remaining petals herself and tried her hand at making these flower cakes. They had turned out pleasantly sweet and delicate. Seeing that the little prince loved them, she took a fresh clean handkerchief, wrapped up all the remaining ones, and gave them to him with a smile. “I made these myself. Take them with you for the road tomorrow.”
“Your Royal Highness the Prince!”
Ye Xiao’s urging sounded again.
The little prince accepted the cakes and, with no other recourse, departed.
Li Xuandu sat in the lamplight, holding a scroll of yellow parchment, and said without looking up, “Wash!”
The little prince gave a meek sound of compliance, moved toward the bed, glanced back stealthily, saw that Li Xuandu’s back was to him, and quickly hid the cakes he had smuggled in under his pillow — planning to eat them in secret in the middle of the night — then went out with the maidservant to wash up. When he returned and climbed into bed, feeling uneasy, he reached under the pillow again — and let out a cry of dismay. “My flower cakes!”
The cakes had been moved to the table. The little prince cried out, “You’re not allowed to eat them while I’m asleep! She made those flower cakes with her own hands, and she gave them to me!”
Li Xuandu naturally knew where Huaiwei had been that evening and who the “she” in his mouth referred to. He gave a dismissive grunt. “You can take them on the road tomorrow!”
The little prince stuck out his lip and lay down.
Li Xuandu read by lamplight for a while longer. Hearing Huaiwei tossing and turning behind him, he feared the light would disturb his sleep, and so he blew out the lamp and lay down as well.
He closed his eyes and quietly regulated his breathing, clearing away all stray thoughts. This was a breathing method he had learned from the Sutra of Tranquil Mind — it helped with sleep.
A young man had been exiled to the Wanshou Temple to tend the imperial tombs — more than a thousand days and nights, as still and silent as death, with nothing to accompany the young man but the glow of a blue lamp, a chamber full of yellowed scrolls, a solitary shadow, and this Sutra of Tranquil Mind that he had once drawn by chance from among those ancient texts.
“Fourth Brother, you’re this old already — why have you still not taken a princess consort?”
Li Xuandu had been slowly drifting into that dim, hazy pool of memory that his subconscious was always reluctant to revisit. Half-drowning in it, feeling the anguish of being unable to extricate himself, when suddenly a quiet, unhurried voice reached his ears.
He snapped awake, his heart pounding. Realizing he was lying on a bed in some room of the western courtyard of Commander Yang’s residence in He Xi Prefectural City, his taut body gradually relaxed, and he slowly breathed out, making no reply.
“I know about your past. I’ll wager that in all of the capital, there isn’t a single woman willing to be your princess consort. Going with you to tend tombs — wouldn’t that be dreadful?”
The little brat chuckled in the darkness, his tone savoring someone else’s misfortune.
“Oh, and Fourth Brother — don’t tell me you’re still a virgin by now?!”
Huaiwei clutched his stomach and laughed uproariously at this, as if it were the funniest thing in the world. As he laughed, he rolled quickly toward the far side of the bed, afraid of receiving punishment in retaliation.
Li Xuandu did not move, his face expressionless. “Time to sleep. We need to be up early tomorrow.”
But Huaiwei was not the least bit drowsy. Just moments earlier, lying in his bedding, he had reached a momentous decision — and what he had said just now was nothing more than a preamble. He now made his announcement: “I am going to take her as my princess consort! The young lady who was playing the qin just now! I only intended to play with her at first, but just now I have decided!”
Li Xuandu could not help coughing. “What nonsense are you talking?”
“I am serious! One of my royal father’s brothers’ sons took a wife at ten years old! I am nearly ten as well! Even though she is thin and bony and certainly not as comfortable to hold as a little lamb, I don’t mind. Once she becomes my princess consort, I will feed her good things every day, I will fatten her up, and she will keep me company and play with me, and we will hold a little lamb between us and sleep together!”
“She saved me today and nearly drowned herself — I must repay her!”
Li Xuandu expelled from his mind the image of the Pu girl’s soaked figure being pulled from the water at dusk, and gave a cold grunt. “If I recall correctly, I have also risked my life to save you at some point — and yet I’ve seen no sign of your gratitude toward me.”
“You and I are brothers — if you don’t save me, who will? Besides, if something happened to me, how would you explain yourself to our maternal grandmother and to my mother?” Huaiwei’s tone was perfectly matter-of-fact.
Li Xuandu was momentarily speechless. After a pause, his tone became serious. “Stop talking nonsense! Sleep!”
The mental image was quite wonderful, and the more Huaiwei thought about it the more excited he became. He rolled upright from the bed.
“I mean it! When I get to the capital, I will go beg our maternal grandmother to let her be my princess consort!”
Li Xuandu got out of bed, relit the lamp, carried it to the bedside, and held it close to his little companion’s face, staring at him.
“Tonight — did she say something to you? Did she say she wanted to be your princess consort?”
“No, it just came to me just now — I want her as my princess consort! Fourth Brother, you have to help me — you can’t let my nephew use his position as Crown Prince to snatch her away from me!”
Li Xuandu was silent for a moment. In his mind’s eye rose the scene from that night at Fulu relay station — this girl meeting that disreputable young man in the dead of night. And today she had lured his nephew Li Chengyu into her snare. What he could not abide most was that she would not leave even a mere child alone!
He said coldly, “She is not a good person. If you dare say another word about taking her as your princess consort, I will kill her.”
Huaiwei was startled, then burst out angrily, “You dare?!”
Li Xuandu sneered coldly, “Did you not say you know about my past? I dared to rebel against the throne — what does killing one woman amount to?”
Huaiwei was intimidated by his fierce, hard stare, and the grand ambition he had just kindled — to take a princess consort at ten years old — evaporated instantly like smoke. He did not dare utter another sound.
“Go to sleep!”
Huaiwei pulled his lips into a pout and lay back down, deflated and aggrieved.
Li Xuandu slowly let out a breath of air, and was just about to blow out the lamp when Ye Xiao came.
“Your Highness, just now the Crown Prince sent word: he has suddenly recalled some other business and will not be returning to the capital tomorrow after all. He asks Your Highness and the little prince to set out first; the Crown Prince will catch up after concluding his affairs.”
Li Xuandu frowned, but said he understood.
The little prince, whom he had just firmly pressed back against his pillow, was still futilely resisting: “If he’s not going, then I’m not going either. She swallowed so much water today — her voice was hoarse when she was talking tonight! What if I go and she dies?”
“If she dies, she dies.”
Li Xuandu said this heartlessly and coldly, and blew out the lamp with a single breath.
In the darkness, Li Xuandu lay with his eyes closed, listening as Huaiwei sighed repeatedly and tossed and turned for a while longer beside him, until sleep must finally have overtaken the boy and he sank into deep slumber — his bedding kicked open, his belly exposed.
Li Xuandu pulled the covers back over him and tucked in the edges. In the darkness, he looked at the sleeping Huaiwei for a moment. Then he rolled out of bed, walked straight to the door, stepped outside, and had someone go and call for Ye Xiao.
Ye Xiao had only just returned to his room and barely fallen asleep when he was told Prince Qin was summoning him. Thinking something urgent must have happened, he gave a start, all sleep instantly gone, and hurried out.
The moonlight was sparse and scant. In the courtyard, a figure stood on the steps of the corridor — it was the Prince of Qin.
Ye Xiao ran to the foot of the steps in a few strides and asked what the matter was.
Li Xuandu said, “The last time in Fulu Zhen, I commanded you to deliver a message to that Pu woman. Did you deliver it?”
Ye Xiao had long forgotten that matter, and had even less imagined that his master would call him in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, to ask about something like this. He made a startled sound. “…Reporting to Your Highness, it was delivered at the time.”
“How did she respond?”
Ye Xiao labored to cast his memory back, and finally succeeded in recalling it. “The young lady’s manner was most agreeable at the time. She said she had remembered, and also said she would change.”
Li Xuandu gave a cold grunt, then waved his hand in dismissal. “It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”
Ye Xiao withdrew in bewilderment. Li Xuandu turned back to his room, saw the packet of cakes on the table, and on an impulse tossed them into the waste paper basket on the floor beside him.