Han Rongchang received the letter the following day, and was informed that it had been written personally by his brother-in-law Li Xuandu, who was currently in seclusion at Ziyang Taoist Temple.
Han Rongchang was nearly twenty years older than Li Xuandu. Though the two were nominally related as brother-in-law and younger brother-in-law, the gap in their ages was simply too great, and since Li Xuandu had incurred imperial wrath and been banished from the capital at sixteen, they had little actual acquaintance. Yet during this campaign to suppress the rebellion in Tianshui, Han Rongchang’s luck had been terrible. He had barely arrived when torrential rains and mountain floods struck, costing him a number of men and horses and exposing his position. The King of Tianshui proved a formidable opponent, and the suppression effort suffered setbacks. Worse still, Han Rongchang himself had been wounded. Had Li Xuandu not arrived in time to lend his aid, not only might his life have been forfeit there, but his future prospects as well.
After that ordeal, Han Rongchang felt considerable gratitude toward this brother-in-law with whom he’d previously had no dealings. Seeing that a personal letter had arrived from him, he opened it at once, read it, and hesitated. Having nothing pressing at the moment, he straightforwardly made his way to Ziyang Temple.
Han Rongchang arrived at the Taoist temple and passed through several grand halls before a young acolyte led him to a grove of ancient cypresses. From a distance, he caught sight of Li Xuandu — his hair bound in a Taoist topknot secured by a jade lotus-blossom crown, his body draped in a simple gauze Taoist robe, seated on a white stone beneath a pine tree. Before him sat the renowned Great Perfected Master Li Qingxu, wearing a yellow-brown and black crown, hair and beard entirely white, complexion rosy and hale, bearing the air of an immortal. Nearby a brazier stood attended by a young acolyte brewing tea. Li Qingxu was expounding the scriptures, speaking fluently and at length; Li Xuandu listened, his bearing graceful and refined. Around them, clean breezes threaded through the forest, pine trees soughed in the wind — altogether an image of transcendence, as if lifted entirely clear of the mundane world.
Han Rongchang dared not interrupt and waited to one side, hearing Li Qingxu say: ‘The Way does not lie in complexity. One need only cease thinking of clothing, cease thinking of food, cease thinking of sound, cease thinking of beauty, cease thinking of victory, cease thinking of defeat, cease thinking of loss, cease thinking of gain…’
Han Rongchang thought to himself that all the rest might be managed, but as for ceasing to think of beauty — how would a man who lived in this world differ from a eunuch? No wonder Xuandu listened to such things all day and remained clear-hearted and free of desire, still without a princess consort at his age. If given the opportunity in the future, as his elder brother-in-law, he would certainly give him a proper talking-to. He had been waiting a good long while; the Great Perfected Master showed no sign of ending his discourse, and Li Xuandu listened with wholehearted attention. Unable to bear it any longer, Han Rongchang gave a gentle cough, interrupting, and stepped into view.
Li Qingxu regularly mingled with many noble figures in the capital and recognized Han Rongchang as the Princess Imperial’s prince consort, the Marquis of Guangping. He paused, exchanged a few pleasantries with a smile, understood that he had come to seek out the Prince of Qin and must have matters to discuss, and led his young acolyte away.
Li Xuandu rose from the stone seat, personally brewed tea, poured a cup, and offered it up. The cup was of white jade with pale blue veining, the tea within a clear, translucent emerald green. But Han Rongchang had no inclination for tea — he accepted it, took a rough swallow, set it down, and said in a low voice: ‘Fourth Brother, what exactly did you mean by what you wrote?’
‘I am asking my elder brother-in-law for a favor,’ Li Xuandu said. ‘You must persuade my Imperial Sister not to arrange a match between Jiao’er and the Pu family’s granddaughter.’
Black words on white paper — Han Rongchang was no illiterate. He shook his head. ‘That much I know! What I’m asking is why you suddenly come out with this out of nowhere? When did your Imperial Sister conceive of such a notion? I haven’t heard a word of it!’
‘It has only been a matter of these past few days,’ Li Xuandu said. ‘It is of no consequence that my elder brother-in-law did not know before; knowing now is not too late either. I still ask for your assistance.’
Han Rongchang finally voiced his purpose in coming, deflecting: ‘Fourth Brother, you’ve been away from the capital these past years and probably don’t know — your elder brother-in-law has been extremely occupied, and the daily affairs of the household have always been left to your Imperial Sister. As for Jiao’er’s marriage, I cannot speak to other families’ daughters, but if your sister has her eye on the Pu family’s granddaughter, that is a fine thing. Your elder brother-in-law is quite satisfied and has nothing to say.’
Li Xuandu smiled without speaking, poured him another cup of tea, and regarded him.
Han Rongchang felt a chill under that gaze: ‘Fourth Brother, why are you looking at me like that?’
‘Elder Brother-in-law, you are mistaken,’ Li Xuandu said. ‘Regarding this match, you are not satisfied.’
‘I am satisfied…’
‘You are not satisfied.’ Li Xuandu smiled as he cut him off. ‘Furthermore, when you return home, you will certainly persuade my Imperial Sister not to settle on this match for Jiao’er.’
Han Rongchang had spent some time in Li Xuandu’s company and knew him to be generally reasonable in his speech. That he should now be talking this way, entirely self-decided, puzzled him. He waved his hand: ‘Fourth Brother, you must be under some misapprehension…’
‘There is no misapprehension. Elder Brother-in-law, you will certainly be able to persuade my Imperial Sister.’ Li Xuandu took a sip of tea.
Only then did Han Rongchang begin to detect something in the tone.
So he was determined to make Han Rongchang oppose this match.
Han Rongchang was not angered — after all, he faced his lifesaver, and though he was many years Li Xuandu’s senior, he was, for reasons he could not quite explain, held in awe of this youngest son of the late emperor, inclined to heed his words.
An expression of difficulty came over his face.
And truly it was difficult. Everyone in the capital knew the Princess Imperial was imperious and overbearing, and that the Marquis of Guangping, Han Rongchang, was thoroughly cowed by his wife.
He raised his eyes and saw Li Xuandu smiling at him. Han Rongchang steeled himself and said: ‘Fourth Brother, to speak plainly, I do not manage household affairs, and Jiao’er’s marriage is not mine to decide!’
Li Xuandu leaned in and said something quietly in his ear. Han Rongchang’s face flushed crimson at once, and he was left speechless.
‘Though my sister is a Princess Imperial, Jiao’er’s marriage is something she ought to consult you on as well. If you do not help me, word might find its way to my sister one of these days…’ Li Xuandu said unhurriedly.
Han Rongchang had once had a childhood sweetheart of a cousin whom he had married. Before long, however, the Princess Imperial had taken a liking to him. By a decree from the Empress Dowager Chen, he had been forced to divorce his first wife and take the Princess as his new one. His first wife had already been with child at the time; fearing for her safety, she had spread the false news of her own death and been quietly settled away. Over the years he had made secret visits to see her. During the campaign against Tianshui, Li Xuandu had arrived to find Han Rongchang gravely ill from his wound compounded by the unfamiliar climate, thinking himself unlikely to survive. Moved by Li Xuandu’s conduct and manner, and feeling he could be trusted, Han Rongchang had told him of his first wife still being alive and entrusted him with handling this last matter. Li Xuandu had subsequently found skilled local physicians and healed him, and the whole matter had been left undiscussed. He had never expected Li Xuandu to use it against him now.
Han Rongchang said with a bitter smile: ‘Fourth Brother, don’t press me — this matter is not to be joked about.’
Li Xuandu’s expression turned serious: ‘Elder Brother-in-law, please understand — your younger brother is left with no other recourse.’
The two men looked at each other. Han Rongchang knew there was no escaping this.
He owed this man so great a debt. Now that he had made his request, there must be compelling reasons behind it. He himself ought to help him in return. Steeling himself, he nodded: ‘Very well, I will do my best!’
Li Xuandu watched Han Rongchang’s retreating figure and felt contempt for himself for having done such a thing. Though he sat amid the pine grove with cool breezes blowing all around, a layer of hot sweat still rose on his forehead. He wiped it away, and slowly breathed out a long breath.
That evening, Han Rongchang returned to the mansion. With only the Princess Imperial present, he ventured: ‘Jiao’er is no longer young. Do you have any young lady in mind for him? It’s time he established his own household.’
The Princess Imperial gave a cold laugh. ‘You actually remember you have a son? I truly cannot understand what possessed me to take a liking to you and marry such a spineless man! This past time the same kind of affair went beautifully for Chen Zhude, but you — you came back a sorry mess, stripping me of all dignity!’
Han Rongchang swallowed his humiliation and said: ‘I’m only asking about Jiao’er’s marriage — what has that to do with all this?’
The Princess Imperial snorted through her nose, then said: ‘I am considering taking the Pu Youzhi’s granddaughter for Jiao’er’s wife — it would also help restore some dignity for you.’
‘I do not agree to this match!’ Han Rongchang said.
The Princess Imperial thought she had heard wrong and turned to look at him: ‘What did you say? You disagree?’
Han Rongchang clenched his jaw and kept his expression cold: ‘That is correct! Any other family will do, but the Pu family’s granddaughter — absolutely not! I know I have fallen out of imperial favor. And so what? You take the Pu family’s granddaughter for Jiao’er, do you want the whole capital to laugh at me for needing my daughter-in-law to save my face?’
The Princess Imperial hadn’t expected him to dare defy her: ‘What did you say? Say it again!’
Having opened his mouth, Han Rongchang was like a broken jar flung to the ground — he let loose his resentment as well: ‘If it hadn’t been for you forcing yourself on me and making me divorce my first wife, would I be in this situation today?’
The more he thought about it, the more furious he grew, and the last traces of his earlier fear entirely dissipated.
‘I’m sick and tired of being your prince consort! Do you think I don’t know about your affair with Shen Yang? If you arrange this match, I’ll divorce you — I’d sooner do as Jiang Yi did, let your old mother issue another decree and send me to tend horses. That would be far more satisfying!’
The Princess Imperial’s face cycled through red and white, never having expected Han Rongchang would dare speak to her this way. She felt momentarily guilty, and fearing the matter would blow up into a public scandal and become impossible to manage, she had no choice but to concede: ‘Very well. Since you are not satisfied, I will look for a daughter from another family. Is there any need to make such a commotion?’
Years of suppressed anger and resentment now surged up in Han Rongchang all at once. Though his goal had been achieved, the rage could not be quenched so quickly. He drew his sword and cleaved the table before him cleanly in two, then flung down the sword and, leaving the Princess Imperial standing there, face drained of color, he strode out.
…
Pu Zhu knew nothing of what had transpired at the Princess Imperial’s mansion. Two days passed in the blink of an eye. On this day, the tenth of the sixth month, it was the seventieth birthday of the Grand Empress Dowager of the Jiang clan — the great occasion known as the Millennial Autumn Festival.
The Xiaochang Emperor showed the Grand Empress Dowager exceptional filial piety, and the inner household had begun preparations for this Millennial Autumn Festival a full year in advance. The Emperor had long lamented that the Jiang Empress Dowager’s residence in Penglai Palace prevented him from attending her morning and evening, and so he had specially constructed a palace to the northeast of Chang’an Palace — the Palace of Ten Thousand Years — dedicated to this birthday celebration. The Jiang Empress Dowager would receive the obeisance of ministers, foreign envoys, and people of all lands at this palace. Furthermore, for the three days beginning today, the Emperor ordered that throughout the realm all slaughter of animals be suspended, all killing forbidden, and a general amnesty proclaimed for the empire in universal celebration.
On this day, the Jiang Empress Dowager was to ride in a phoenix carriage drawn by a pair of moon-blazed fine horses, preceded and followed by ceremonial guard and feathered escorts like a forest, departing Penglai Palace along the imperial road to the Palace of Ten Thousand Years.
Such a grand and solemn spectacle — Pu Zhu had witnessed and participated in it in her previous life as well. After all, in her status as the granddaughter of Pu Youzhi, such occasions required her presence, to display the breadth of imperial grace.
Yet there was one difference from her previous life. In her previous life, she had ridden in one of the carriages lined up in the procession behind the noblewomen, in the capacity of a meritorious official’s family member. Today, just before the procession set out, she had been summoned forward by the elderly female official named Chen from Penglai Palace.
Madam Yan quickly bid her go ahead.
Pu Zhu, under the envious gazes of many behind her, made her way to the front and boarded a purple canopied treasure carriage that followed directly behind the Jiang Empress Dowager’s phoenix carriage.
Huaiwei was seated in this carriage, along with another young woman dressed in palace attire of roughly similar age to Pu Zhu — this was the Crown Prince Li Chengyu’s younger sister, Princess Ningshou, Li Qiongyao.
Huaiwei waved Pu Zhu over to sit beside him, and said happily: ‘I asked Great-grandmother if you could ride with me, and she agreed!’
Pu Zhu made her obeisance to the princess. Li Qiongyao glanced at her, her gaze pausing on Pu Zhu’s face with its painted dark brows and lip rouge, a flicker of what seemed like jealousy showing before it gave way to barely concealed disdain. She turned away, ignoring Pu Zhu entirely.
This arrogant and domineering little imperial lady of a previous life — Pu Zhu paid her no mind. She settled into the empty seat Huaiwei had made for her, and through the half-visible purple curtains of the carriage, observed the extravagant, peaceful splendor of the world outside.
As she had been boarding just now, she had noticed that the other unwed princesses and commandery princesses were all in carriages behind, but Princess Commandery Ningfu, Li Hui’er, seemed absent from among them.
Naturally. For an occasion like this, Li Hui’er’s status made it unsuitable for her to appear.
‘My Fourth Brother finally returned from the Taoist temple last night! He’s up ahead right now! Next to him are Prince Liu and Prince Chen — they’re both my grand-nephews! They’re all up ahead on horseback protecting my great-grandmother!’
Huaiwei pointed ahead for her to look, his face full of admiration.
Pu Zhu had already seen this earlier.
Li Xuandu was at the front, clad in light armor and military attire, his bearing heroic and imposing, serving as escort commander, leading his grand-nephews, Prince Liu and Prince Chen, to accompany the Jiang Empress Dowager’s phoenix carriage to the Palace of Ten Thousand Years.
Huaiwei sighed: ‘I originally wanted to ride on horseback up front too, but Fourth Brother wouldn’t let me! Back in Yinyue City I rode horses every day! What right does he have to stop me from protecting great-grandmother?’ His tone was full of grievance.
‘When you’re a little older, you’ll be able to,’ Pu Zhu said.
With the Jiang Empress Dowager already in her carriage, the procession was nearly ready to depart. Li Xuandu rode in a circuit for a final inspection, passing alongside the purple carriage, where Huaiwei lifted the carriage curtain and called out to him, then pointed at Pu Zhu inside and said with satisfaction: ‘You won’t let me ride a horse, so I had her ride with me. Let’s see what you can do about that!’
Li Xuandu glanced at the green-clad figure inside the carriage and rode back to the very front.
The phoenix carriage set out, imperial guards stationed along the route, the common people kneeling along both sides of the road, all crying out birthday greetings in unison for the Jiang Empress Dowager.
All officials in the capital of the sixth rank and above, foreign envoys from various nations, and elderly men of virtue selected from among the common people — several thousand in all — had already formed lines beneath the Vermillion Bird Gate leading to the south entrance of the Palace of Ten Thousand Years, awaiting the procession, led by Crown Prince Li Chengyu.
The phoenix carriage arrived at the Vermillion Bird Gate, the carriages behind following in procession.
‘The Grand Empress Dowager transfers to the Palace of Ten Thousand Years!’
The ceremonial herald drew out the announcement in a solemn, resonant voice.
The Jiang Empress Dowager prepared to descend from the phoenix carriage; the noblewomen in the carriages behind also prepared themselves.
Huaiwei, needing no help from the attendants who came forward, leapt down first.
Rank and protocol had to be observed. Pu Zhu stepped to one side and gestured for Princess Ningshou Li Qiongyao, who had not said a word throughout the journey, to descend the purple carriage first.
Li Qiongyao rose and walked to the carriage door, then suddenly stopped and turned, gesturing for Pu Zhu to go first.
‘It would be more proper for the Princess to go first,’ Pu Zhu said.
Li Qiongyao frowned: ‘I tell you to go down, so go down!’
Pu Zhu looked at her for a moment, then stepped to the carriage door. Just as she was about to descend, Li Qiongyao, standing at her side, suddenly shot out a hand and pushed at her waist.
Li Qiongyao’s reversal — insisting Pu Zhu go first — had already put Pu Zhu on guard. She gripped the side of the carriage and shifted to the side.
Li Qiongyao had put her full strength into it, intending to make this minister’s daughter who had overstepped her rank and whose face she found so irritating suffer a public humiliation. She had not expected to grasp nothing but air. Without anything to brace against, she lost her balance at once, let out a startled cry, and lurched forward — just as she was about to tumble out, a hand reached over from the side and seized her arm, pulling her back.
She finally steadied herself and turned her face.
Pu Zhu smiled: ‘Please be careful, Your Highness. It would still be more proper for Your Highness to go first.’ With that, she released her hold.
Li Qiongyao’s heart was pounding.
Had she truly fallen like that in full view of everyone, the humiliation today would have been tremendous.
The princess’s startled cry had already drawn the attention of those nearby. Huaiwei stood at the carriage door and had seen everything clearly. Furious, he opened his mouth to shout, but Pu Zhu shook her head at him, signaling him to be quiet.
Huaiwei closed his mouth with reluctance, glaring resentfully at Li Qiongyao.
The few attendants below the purple carriage also came to their senses and hurried forward to assist.
Li Qiongyao’s face had gone deeply red. She stared at the minister’s daughter across from her, gritted her teeth, bowed her head, and stepped down from the carriage.
Pu Zhu raised her eyes and happened to meet the gaze of Li Xuandu, who had come to attend in person upon the Grand Empress Dowager as she descended from the phoenix carriage. He glanced at his grand-niece, Princess Ningshou, and then swept his gaze toward Pu Zhu’s side.
Pu Zhu did not look at him. She lowered her eyes, gave a slight lift to her skirts, and with the steadying help of the attendants, descended from the carriage with steady composure.