Gaoyang Hall, located just past the first great gate of the imperial palace, was the meeting place for the affairs of this autumn hunt. Because of the heavy workload, the hall had recently been a constant stream of officials coming and going, everyone without exception rushed off their feet.
As the date of the main party’s departure drew near, on this day, in addition to Li Xuandu and Chen Zhude, the Shen uncle and nephew were also present. The uncle oversaw the domestic affairs and logistics of the excursion; the nephew was responsible for the Emperor’s escort and security.
The reason this northward autumn hunt was attracting such extraordinary attention, gathering virtually all of the court’s most powerful figures, was that it was not merely a hunting expedition—it carried behind it a certain other significance.
Each of the dynasty’s several preceding emperors had placed great importance on the northward autumn hunt. By the reign of Mingzong, with the nation’s strength greatly increased, there had been no fewer than ten such northern hunting expeditions of varying scales, each one mobilizing tens of thousands of participants and lasting one to two months.
For the current Emperor, this was the second autumn hunt since his accession.
The first had taken place in the year after his enthronement, and after that there had been none for many years. Now the Emperor had resolved to make the journey north again to encircle and hunt—and on a scale larger than before. Tens of thousands of soldiers would participate, arriving at the hunting grounds three days in advance to form a great encirclement that would slowly close inward, driving all the wild animals within range toward the center, until a great hunting circle roughly twenty li across had been formed. The requirements were exceedingly strict: not even a single wild rabbit was to be allowed to escape the ring.
This kind of autumn hunt encirclement was less a hunt than a test of military mobilization and coordination, carrying the significance of war.
The ministers understood perfectly: the Emperor’s decision to hold the autumn hunt again after so many years was very likely a response to Dongdi’s movements. In recent years, as Dongdi had recovered its strength, its cavalry had once again begun threatening the northern frontier, and the Emperor had begun showing unmistakable signs of his ambition and intent to achieve military glory at the border. And so this unprecedented-scale autumn hunt—like a small war—required simultaneous participation and coordination from three parties: the inner palace administration, the Southern Bureau, and the military, to ensure no mishap occurred.
Chen Zhude and the Shen uncle and nephew had been quietly competing with each other for years; in this matter they each worked to bring Li Xuandu to their side, in order to establish their own dominant role. After all matters had been discussed, Chen Zhude and Li Xuandu were the first to leave the palace, leaving the Shen uncle and nephew behind. Shen Gao instructed his nephew to make certain the security arrangements for this excursion were absolutely airtight, with no room for error.
Shen Yang received his orders. He turned his head and glanced in the direction Li Xuandu had gone, then said in a low voice: “Uncle, does His Majesty truly intend to give him real responsibilities?”
Shen Gao’s expression flickered, and his face showed displeasure: “The imperial will and the Emperor’s heart—how dare you speak of them so carelessly?”
Shen Yang looked alarmed and quickly assented.
Shen Gao glanced at his nephew, thought a moment, and offered a reminder: “For this autumn hunt, the Grand Princess will certainly be in attendance as well. Your private indiscretions are your own affair—but keep your head clear when it comes to official matters. Whatever you do, don’t let that interfere!”
Shen Yang responded: “Uncle, rest easy. It was she who sought me out first back then. I only didn’t want to offend her, and that is all. I’ve long since wished to cut things off—we haven’t even met in a long time. Your nephew knows what’s important, and I have it all in hand.”
Shen Gao gave a nod, exchanged a few more words with his nephew, and then they parted ways.
Li Xuandu returned to the Prince’s Mansion in the evening, went to the bedchamber to change, and found no one there to receive him. He asked, and was told the Princess Consort had already left for Cheng Garden.
He frowned slightly. “How long ago did she leave?”
“The Princess Consort went out in the late afternoon, around the shen hour.”
Li Xuandu turned his head, looked at the sky outside, changed his clothes, and went to the study.
The sun gradually sank. In the blink of an eye, dusk had passed and the sky was nearly dark. Luo Bao entered to light the lamps. Li Xuandu lounged on the cloud-bed, reading the texts the Abbot had sent over the other day, and cast a glance out the window at the sky. He asked offhandedly: “Has the Princess Consort come back?”
Luo Bao said the Princess Consort had not yet returned.
Li Xuandu gradually lost his train of thought; the texts in his hand became difficult to read.
From the later years of Mingzong’s reign onward, as the wars ended in victory, foreign kingdoms submitted and kowtowed from all directions, and a long peace brought complacency—the customs of the capital began to change drastically. The noble and wealthy households lived extravagantly, and many behind closed doors were dissolute beyond measure. Private banquets hosted by the great families of the capital were often not at their liveliest until deep into the night; the hosts, in order to please their guests and to display their own wealth and standing, would devise all manner of entertainment within the banquet, and revelries lasting till dawn were commonplace.
Li Xuandu had been born in the palace and grown up within the imperial city walls—how could any of this be unfamiliar to him? Not a few of these private banquets ended as depraved orgies. It was said that a certain noblewoman had once gotten drunk at a banquet and fornicated with the host family’s powerful Kunlun slave. Afterward she had given birth to a child with black skin. Her husband had drowned it on the spot…
Li Xuandu was suddenly flustered and restless. He glanced out the window again.
The sky was completely dark.
He genuinely could not suppress the worry.
The Pu girl had come from the borderlands—what could she know of the world? She was young, not to mention consumed by ambition and vanity. She had not been in the capital long, and here in this city of intoxicating pleasures and glittering temptations—if she went out and lost control of herself, or was led astray by someone, and did something shameless in a muddle…
Li Xuandu broke out in a cold sweat. He also thought of the scene when he had escorted her into the palace on the day after their wedding, and on the way back had encountered Shen Yang. He had noticed at the time that she seemed to be somewhat fearful of Shen Yang—at first she had tried to edge behind him.
He remembered the look in Shen Yang’s eyes when he had watched her. Even after so many days had passed, it still left him with a vaguely unsettled feeling.
Not that Li Xuandu considered her particularly beautiful—but that didn’t change the fact that other men found her beautiful.
Take his nephew Li Chengyu: if he had not first been drawn in by her looks, why would he have foolishly fallen into her trap without even realizing it, and even now stubbornly refuse to wake up?
Thinking of Shen Yang, who today was very likely also present at that gathering, Li Xuandu felt even more unsettled.
He sat up and called Luo Bao in, telling him to pass the word to Ye Xiao to go immediately to Cheng Garden with a message for the Princess Consort—that she should come back early and not stay through the night. He was also to escort her home.
Luo Bao assented and turned to go. He was called back.
Li Xuandu deliberated.
If she was caught up in the excitement of the banquet, she might not obediently follow Ye Xiao home.
And if in the end something scandalous really did come of it…
He slapped down the text in his hand with a sharp crack, swung off the cloud-bed, and strode out in long strides.
“Never mind—I’ll go and get her myself!”
——
Cheng Garden was in the western outskirts of the city. It had been part of Xiao Shi’s dowry when she married Shen Yang—her own private estate. The grounds were spacious, with peonies to admire in the fourth and fifth months, and now they were filled with chrysanthemums.
Xiao Shi’s birthday flower banquet today was held in the chrysanthemum garden. Chrysanthemums of every variety bloomed in profusion across the grounds, a riot of gold and overflowing color. Several dozen finely dressed noble ladies sat around a few enormous banquet tables on tall-footed chairs, each trying to outshine the others, talking and laughing merrily. Maids with hair styled in hanging plait chignons decorated with red silk, and strong, gentle Kunlun slaves, circulated with beautiful wines to attend the honored guests. The scene was one of lavish splendor, the air heavy with the scent of wealth, the fragrance of face powder and rouge thick and overpowering everywhere.
After dark, lanterns were lit throughout the garden, glowing brilliantly, making the halls and pavilions as bright as midday.
As nightfall came, this evening’s banquet truly began.
Among the guests who had come today, the several of the highest standing sat at the central table, laid with a crimson Persian floor-cloth, and were very conspicuous.
Empress Shangguan was too dignified to appear at this sort of occasion as a rule, but Princess Ningshou Li Qiongyao had been invited over, and sat on the most central tall-footed chair.
The purple-robed woman beside the Princess, laughing and chatting with her, was the Princess’s maternal aunt—Empress Shangguan’s younger sister, the Lady of Zhenguo.
The woman seated just below and to the left of the Lady of Zhenguo was from the household of Prince Chu. Prince Chu had died of illness years ago and had left a son, Prince Chen. She was the Princess Consort of Prince Chen—of the same generation as Princess Ningshou, and would address Pu Zhu as Aunt.
The woman in yellow seated across from the Princess Consort of Prince Chen was named Chen Shuyuan—the eldest daughter of Chen Zhude’s wife, Madam Gan, and the full elder sister of Chen Huiyuan, the one who had been disqualified from the Crown Princess competition after being caught in public flagrante delicto with a guard. She and Xiao Shi had been close friends for many years, and naturally she would not be left out of an occasion like this.
Two more people were seated at this table.
One was Pu Zhu. The woman of high nose and chestnut hair seated next to Pu Zhu was the foreign Princess Consort of a Xiyu prince from the Baole Kingdom—a prince and princess who had fled to seek asylum here after a political upheaval in their homeland years ago. Her name was Ma Yena. She ordinarily associated frequently with Chen Shuyuan, had been living in the capital for several years, and had learned the language—though her accent was heavy, she could communicate without difficulty.
The most distinguished person at this table was without question the center of today’s flower banquet, and especially Pu Zhu, appearing here for the first time, who had become everyone’s focus. From the moment she appeared, gaze after gaze—some envious, some jealous, some open, some concealed—had been fixed on her.
When she arrived, today’s hostess, Xiao Shi, had personally gone to the garden gate to welcome her.
At first glance, from the look in Xiao Shi’s eyes as they fell on her face, Pu Zhu knew that her choice of dress today had been correct.
Compared to the women around her—each one with an elaborate high chignon piled with flower ornaments, gold, silver, pearls, jade, and decorative branches—she, in an equally rich and elegant outfit, was refined rather than ostentatious, effortlessly standing out from the rest. Whether for her beauty or for her appearance, to call her the fairest among all the flowers was no exaggeration.
Xiao Shi was twenty-three—of beautiful and brilliant years, but when all was said and done, she could not match the Princess Consort of Prince Qin.
She knew this perfectly well. Her pearl-and-gem hairpiece and the seven-paneled floral-brocade skirt that had taken months to complete with its intricate embroidery had not managed to steal the day either.
This left her somewhat crestfallen, though her manner grew even warmer. She received the Princess Consort’s courtesies and gave her thanks. Being a few years older, she quickly began addressing Pu Zhu as sister. At this moment she was attending to her other guests, while glancing from time to time toward the Princess Consort of Prince Qin.
Beautiful, yes, but young. From what she had heard of her background, she ought not to have seen much of the world. Once seated, she was indeed not very lively—only smiling pleasantly while exchanging a few idle words with the Princess Consort of Prince Chen to her left or with Ma Yena the foreign princess to her right.
Xiao Shi quickly dismissed her earlier vague and improper impulse. When it grew dark, she smiled and ordered her steward to bring out the company of entertainers she kept, and invited the guests to request whatever songs they liked.
Chen Shuyuan called for a piece of processional music that was currently the most popular choice for banquets, to stir up the mood.
The entertainers began to play. As the music started, the bird trainers hidden out of sight released a flock of white doves, each with a small lantern tied to its feet. Hundreds of white doves flew out from the shadows and circled above the flower beds in front of the banquet hall, rising and falling. And not only that—they could follow the tempo of the music, sometimes gathering together, sometimes spreading apart. Viewed from a distance, they were like stars tumbling from the sky, or dancing tongues of flame.
The noble families of the capital all kept their own troupes of entertainers, but training white doves to dance to music—that was something only Xiao Shi had yet achieved.
Everyone exclaimed in admiration. Xiao Shi was quietly proud. Just then the Cheng Garden steward rushed into the banquet hall and called out that Commander Shen had sent the Madam’s birthday gift—and since the hall was full of ladies, the Commander had stopped at the entrance and had the steward deliver it on his behalf. He then presented the gift: a flower crown encrusted with pearls and precious stones, shimmering with jeweled light, clearly of staggering value at a glance.
Under the eyes of everyone present, Xiao Shi had her attendant receive the flower crown.
The Lady of Zhenguo raised her fan to cover a smile and said with a soft laugh: “A crown like this could not possibly cost less than ten thousand coins. The Commander really does dote on you. What they say about throwing away gold for beauty—now I understand.”
The other officials’ wives chimed in, vying to express their envy.
Xiao Shi beamed, but said modestly: “How could it be so grand? To my eyes, it is only a little trifle. He must have bought it on a whim to fob me off with. You are all having a good laugh at my expense!”
The compliments grew even more effusive. Xiao Shi glanced, seemingly intentionally or otherwise, at Pu Zhu, then had the flower crown put away.
Some of the noble ladies continued to lavish praise on Xiao Shi; others drank wine or admired the birds. Pu Zhu heard the foreign princess Ma Yena beside her, to her right, whispering with her personal attendant in a foreign tongue about the scandal involving Shen Yang and Grand Princess Li Lihua.
This foreign princess, from her kingdom abroad, apparently assumed no one present could understand her language, and spoke with complete abandon.
Pu Zhu naturally would not expose herself, and pretended to know nothing. She exchanged the occasional remark with the Princess Consort of Prince Chen, who was making conversation with her to her left, and felt the gaze of Princess Ningshou Li Qiongyao resting on her from across the table. She looked up and met her eyes.
Li Qiongyao’s expression immediately turned cold, and she looked away. Then she glanced toward a woman sitting at another table behind her.
This woman was named Gu—the wife of a senior official—and upon receiving the silent signal from Li Qiongyao’s eyes, she stood and said she had a birthday gift for Xiao Shi.
“It is nothing precious—not quite fit to present at all, really. The only thing to be said for it is that I put some thought into it. It is rather bulky, though—I didn’t dare bring it in—I was afraid it would only make everyone laugh.”
Xiao Shi smiled and told her people to bring the item in. Shortly, several slaves carried in a large square basin and carefully placed it on a table. Everyone gathered around to look.
Inside was a miniature landscape—strange peaks and odd stones, city walls and human figures, a small bridge over flowing water—the scene was entirely naturalistic, and rather charming to look at.
Madam Gu smiled and said: “I specially had craftsmen make this from various aromatic woods, as a little amusement for the Madam to enjoy at leisure.”
Xiao Shi appeared genuinely delighted, said she had been thoughtful, and called on everyone to come admire it. Then she turned her head and, seeing Pu Zhu still seated and not coming over, smiled and beckoned: “Sister, come and look.”
Everyone turned to look.
Pu Zhu rose and went over.
Xiao Shi took her arm in a warm, intimate manner and they examined the work together. She asked Madam Gu what aromatic woods had been used.
Madam Gu patted her forehead: “How could someone as coarse as me know? I would be grateful for the Madam’s guidance.”
Xiao Shi glanced over the landscape piece and smiled: “There is agarwood, elecampane, cloves, frankincense, yellow sandalwood, and white sandalwood.”
She named one variety, and the crowd gave a sound of admiration. When she had named them all, the flattery was thunderous—they said she was a true connoisseur.
Xiao Shi smiled and waved her hand dismissively: “What of it? These are only a few of the most ordinary and easily identified aromatic woods.”
The compliments grew louder still. At this moment Princess Ningshou suddenly called out to Pu Zhu: “Fourth Imperial Aunt, I only recognize a few of these. I have heard that your mother was once a celebrated literary talent of the capital. Fourth Aunt, coming from such a distinguished family background, would you be so kind as to enlighten this niece?”
The whole room went quiet in an instant, and every gaze shot toward Pu Zhu.
Pu Zhu looked at Princess Ningshou’s uncharacteristic behavior, then at Xiao Shi, who was smiling without saying a word to stop it. She recognized this for what it was—a trap set especially to deflate her.
If she could not give an answer, by tomorrow she would likely become the laughing stock of all the noble ladies in the capital.
Growing up, she had been sent to the frontier at eight because of her family’s offense. He Xi was no place where she could have had the opportunity to learn to identify different types of aromatic wood as Xiao Shi had.
But they were, unfortunately, going to be disappointed.
In her previous life, eight years in the Eastern Palace and two years as Empress—what rare and precious thing had she not seen? Let alone a few types of aromatic wood?
Pu Zhu suddenly felt like toying with these few women a little, and so she put on an expression of deep thought, stared at the landscape piece, and remained silent for a long moment.
A mocking smile crept to the Princess’s lips. The ladies around began to murmur quietly. Xiao Shi, her expression showing nothing in particular, was about to open her mouth and graciously save her from embarrassment, when she suddenly heard her say: “The agarwood forms the little mountains; the elecampane and cloves make the forest trees; the frankincense was used for the city walls; the yellow sandalwood was carved for the houses and bridges; as for the white sandalwood, that would be the figures—a fisherman and his like.”
She went forward and bent to sniff lightly at the water, then added: “The water in the pool should be a mixture of rose water and storax oil.”
She straightened and looked at Xiao Shi. “I grew up in He Xi as a child and my knowledge is limited. I was just guessing wildly—if I have misidentified anything and taught the Princess incorrectly, I hope sister will set me right, and not laugh at me.”
Xiao Shi’s expression stiffened for just a moment, then her smile returned. She praised: “Sister is too modest. Truly born to a distinguished family—you identified them all correctly.”
The ladies looked at one another. The Princess’s expression was unpleasant.
Pu Zhu put on a bashful expression. “How could I compare with sister? I have only just arrived in the capital and am unfamiliar with everything. I shall have to depend on sister’s guidance in all things from now on.”
Xiao Shi answered warmly with repeated assurances, and escorted Pu Zhu back to her seat. Everyone settled back in turn, and the miniature landscape was soon carried off by slaves, to be disposed of in whatever manner was thought best.
The banquet and entertainment continued.