“Your Highness, this is fate and destiny. My circumstances are what fortune has ordained—why should Your Highness be concerned?”
This barely audible sigh caused Zhu Nanxian’s hand gripping the reins to tighten. He could even imagine Su Jin’s expression as she spoke these words—she must be exhausted, leaning against the carriage wall with her eyes wearily closed, her brow bearing an indelible pallor of desolation.
Zhu Nanxian clearly remembered that five years ago, Su Jin was not like this.
Back then, when the northwestern garrison required additional commanding officers, he had been fond of martial arts since childhood and submitted a memorial requesting to be sent there.
At that time, Emperor Jingyuan had fallen ill with a seasonal ailment, and all matters large and small were handled by Zhu Minda, who reviewed and approved memorials on his behalf.
Zhu Nanxian’s memorial had barely reached the imperial desk before Zhu Minda threw it back, rebuking him with “nothing but reckless bravado” and ordering him to reflect behind closed doors for seven days.
The Zhu Nanxian of those days still possessed the stubbornness to charge headlong into a wall without turning back.
He silently retrieved his memorial and returned to the palace. Not only did he close his doors, but he also refused water and food. For five consecutive days he consumed not a single grain of rice, until Zhu Minda ordered the doors broken down and saw this half-dead younger brother with cracked lips grinning at him as if victorious.
Zhu Minda wanted nothing more than to kick him to death.
After all, having grown up by his side, Zhu Minda knew that the thirteenth prince responded to gentleness rather than force. He then devised another stratagem, persuading him with emotional appeals to the effect of: “It’s not that your imperial brother won’t let you go, but you are a son of the imperial house. If you have no strategy or wisdom in your breast and only know how to wield swords and spears, wouldn’t that invite ridicule?”
He then handed Zhu Nanxian a note, saying: “How about this—your imperial brother will give you an opportunity. I have a couplet here. Within three days, if you can compose ten different matching lines, proving you have some learning in that belly of yours, your imperial brother will approve your request.”
Zhu Nanxian’s mind was quite simple. In his recollection, couplets were nothing more than things like “The white sun sets behind the mountains, the Yellow River flows into the sea”—how difficult could it be to match ten lines?
It wasn’t until he opened Zhu Minda’s note that he realized he had fallen into a trap—
“One cup of clear tea, quenches quenches quenches quenches the thirst of the provincial graduate.”
Zhu Nanxian frowned in deep thought. What the hell was this thing?
At that time, Zhu Shisan had not yet established his own princely household and still lived with Zhu Minda in the Eastern Palace.
Within two days, he took the couplet seeking advice from everyone in the Office of Remonstrance, the Wenhua Pavilion, and even all the palace servants and maids throughout the Eastern Palace. He even held a blade to the neck of a junior fire-tender, but the fire-tender only knelt trembling, stammering in reply: “Your… Your Highness, this slave is illiterate…”
Zhu Nanxian knew he had fallen into Zhu Minda’s scheme. Presumably, Zhu Minda had already informed everyone not to help the thirteenth prince with his couplet.
So he sat at the entrance to the Office of Remonstrance, glumly wondering if there could still be any sanctuary found within these palace walls.
Just then, he overheard two officials from the Spring Office discussing poetry and couplets, mentioning tomorrow’s Poetry and Ritual Assembly in their conversation.
A flash of inspiration struck Zhu Nanxian, and he approached to inquire about what this Poetry and Ritual Assembly was.
It turned out this was a grand gathering held twice yearly by the Hanlin Academy, meant for scholars from various academies and civil officials to exchange learning. And at tomorrow’s Poetry and Ritual Assembly, newly appointed scholars who had just entered the Hanlin Academy three months prior would also attend.
Zhu Nanxian thought this was a heaven-sent opportunity.
In his usual dealings with the Hanlin Academy, the same few old pedants he encountered had long since learned to read Zhu Minda’s expressions. But the new scholars were different—if he could find someone who had slipped through the net to help him match the couplet, his hope of going to the northwestern garrison would be realized.
The next day, Zhu Nanxian slipped away to the Poetry and Ritual Assembly at the Hanlin Literary Garden.
Being an imperial prince, many people in the palace recognized him, so he did not mingle where literary talent flew freely and wine cups floated along winding streams in the literary garden. Instead, he circled around the bamboo grove to the rear garden.
In the rear garden was a shallow lake, and in the middle of the lake stood a pavilion.
Zhu Nanxian faintly saw a figure standing in the pavilion. That person stood with hands clasped behind their back, facing away from him, wearing plain robes with wide sleeves. As the garments billowed, the figure appeared gracefully transcendent, like an immortal banished to the mortal realm.
This person was Su Jin—Su Jin from five years ago.
Zhu Nanxian walked across the stone bridge and called out: “You are—”
Su Jin turned around.
Though born in the deep palace, Zhu Nanxian had seen his share of talented scholars and lofty gentlemen, including those of refined elegance who made one forget worldly cares upon meeting them.
But Su Jin was still utterly different.
Between her brows naturally dwelt clear frost and misty rain. As she turned, it was as if the spring breeze and bright moon were all gathered into her embrace, and myriad rays of brilliance shone from her slightly lowered eyes.
She stood thus with hands clasped in the pavilion, the boundless wind of darkest night seeming to rise because of her. Behind her, the waveless shallow lake suddenly became an ocean, with surging tides rushing forth like mountains.
Zhu Nanxian was completely stunned.
So much so that when Su Jin knelt to greet him, introducing herself as “surnamed Su, given name Jin, courtesy name Shiyu, a scholar from this year’s examinations,” he didn’t even remember to say “rise,” but instead clumsily imitated her manner and said: “Oh, I’m surnamed Zhu, given name Ai, courtesy name Nanxian, thirteenth in birth order, currently… currently serving as an imperial prince in the palace.”
Su Jin laughed softly.
The sound of laughter brought Zhu Nanxian back to his senses. He asked hesitantly: “Can you… match couplets?”
Su Jin looked somewhat surprised and raised her head to ask: “What couplet?”
Zhu Nanxian handed her the note from his breast pocket that read “One cup of clear tea, quenches quenches quenches quenches the thirst of the provincial graduate,” saying: “If you can match it, would you help this prince write a few matching lines?”
There were ready writing materials in the pavilion. Su Jin picked up the brush, pondered briefly, then asked: “How many matching lines does Your Highness require?”
Zhu Nanxian was more anxious than he had ever been, afraid of making it difficult for her, so he said: “Three or four would be fine.” But then thinking three or four wouldn’t be enough, he added: “Seven or eight would also work.” Then considering he had to submit them tomorrow and couldn’t possibly find a second person to help match couplets overnight, he finally said: “Ten—is that possible?”
Su Jin smiled again, and the line “Seven stringed melodies, delight delight delight delight the music of the Music Bureau” was already written on the paper.
Recalling the past, Zhu Nanxian remembered that year’s Su Jin was full of spirited confidence, her eyes curving with laughter, her gaze containing myriad brilliance.
Yet years later, when she walked through the clamorous streets and alleys covered in blood, surviving narrowly from the hands of the Crown Prince at the Office of Remonstrance, Zhu Nanxian had never again seen Su Jin laugh from the heart.
Not even once.
The carriage stopped at the intersection of Government Office Street. Su Jin lifted the curtain and said to Zhu Nanxian: “Your Highness, this subject will go there myself.”
So saying, she jumped down from the carriage, walked a few steps then paused, adding without turning her head: “Your Highness need not follow.”
The lights blazed brilliantly before the capital’s government office. Two high officials stood at the forefront—one was a short, rotund fellow wearing an egret insignia whom Su Jin had seen at the Ministry of Justice as Assistant Minister Lu. The other was unfamiliar, sporting a drooping mustache, of slightly higher official rank, wearing a fifth-rank white pheasant insignia.
The Feathered Forest Guards successively brought people out from the office, while a recorder stood to the side making verifications one by one. Su Jin observed from afar that besides various clerks large and small, there were also Assistant Magistrate Sun Yinde, Vice Magistrate Zhou Ping, and two magistrates.
After the recorder finished checking the roster, he quietly reported to the man with the drooping mustache.
The drooping mustache’s eyebrows rose in anger as he barked: “Hurry up and find him! Anyone else can be missing, but not him!”
Su Jin guessed they were talking about her. She circled around the Feathered Forest Guards, emerged from the crowd, and said: “My lord, this subordinate official is here.”
The drooping mustache glanced at her askance, raised his chin and gave the Feathered Forest Guard beside him a look.
The Feathered Forest Guard immediately shoved Su Jin. She stumbled and nearly fell to the ground.
Liu Yichu smiled obsequiously from the side: “Assistant Minister, you see, perhaps there’s been a mistake. On the day of the disturbance, if not for Magistrate Su, Lord Xu would not have escaped with his life.”
The drooping mustache sneered coldly: “Magistrate Liu has hit precisely upon the point. Where is there any Lord Xu now? Xu Yuanzhe engaged in nepotism and fraud—he is a traitor to the court. And this fellow Su… Su what was it?”
The recorder beside him replied: “Su Jin.”
“This fellow Su Jin harbored and shielded a traitorous minister. Instead of reporting his crimes, he saved his life—his offense is compounded. Someone, put the cangue on him!”
As he finished speaking, two bailiffs approached from left and right carrying a neck cangue.
Su Jin was slender of frame—if locked in this thousand-pound neck cangue for two hours, wouldn’t it break his shoulder bones?
“This prince sees who dares!”
Suddenly, an explosive shout came from behind the crowd. Zhu Nanxian, dressed in purple robes with python embroidery, emerged from the night.
The Feathered Forest Guards recognized him and immediately withdrew to both sides, clearing a path and kneeling in unison: “We pay respects to the Thirteenth Prince!”
Zhu Nanxian walked straight up to the drooping mustache and kicked him: “What kind of thing are you? The Ministry of Justice is arresting people, and you come along to make trouble?”
The drooping mustache fell face-first into the dirt. Enduring the pain, he crawled into a proper kneeling position and replied: “In response to the Thirteenth Prince, this subject is the Assistant Minister of the Court of Imperial Entertainments. I have come with the Ministry of Justice to arrest people only because I was commanded by His Majesty.”
Zhu Nanxian hooked his little finger to clean out his ear, as if he hadn’t heard clearly: “Court of Imperial Entertainments? That office full of cooks and kitchen helpers?”
The drooping mustache’s face pressed against the ground, yet his tone held hidden resentment: “In response to Your Highness, this subject is a northern subject. Previously, I submitted memorials together with northern scholars regarding the examination fraud case. Now that His Majesty has investigated and clarified the truth, he wishes to give this subject and the other scholars justice, which is why he commanded this subject to come arrest the principal offenders.”
Someone from below brought a chair out from the office. Zhu Nanxian didn’t sit but planted one foot on it: “Oh, then you should explain exactly who the principal offenders are.”
The drooping mustache glanced at the recorder beside him. Understanding, the recorder presented the roster in his hands to Zhu Nanxian. The drooping mustache said: “In response to Your Highness, it is precisely the people on this roster. His Majesty personally reviewed and approved it in vermillion.”
Zhu Nanxian held up the roster and examined it by firelight, making a sound of acknowledgment: “Indeed quite a few.” He then said to the drooping mustache: “This prince gives you an entire night. You kneel there and explain to this prince one by one exactly what crime each person on this list committed and why they are principal offenders. Don’t explain clearly and you’re not permitted to rise. Understand?”
The drooping mustache dared not resist. Of all the princes this could have been, it had to be a legitimate imperial prince.
Emperor Jingyuan and the late Empress had shared deep affection. The late Empress bore three sons: the Crown Prince, the thirteenth prince, and the seventeenth prince. Of these three, her most beloved was Zhu Nanxian.
Therefore, aside from Emperor Jingyuan and Zhu Minda, no one in the palace could control him.
The drooping mustache’s face pressed against the ground, his teeth nearly grinding through as he squeezed out: “This subject obeys your command.”
Zhu Nanxian asked again: “Where is the Prefect?”
Hearing this, Yang Zhiwei quickly shuffled forward on his knees to Zhu Nanxian’s presence and kowtowed three times.
Zhu Nanxian instructed: “You take Su… take your office’s people and return inside first to rest well for the night. Wait until tomorrow morning when this prince has finished interrogating this meddling busybody, then escort those who should be escorted into the palace.”
Yang Zhiwei repeatedly agreed. He paused slightly, then condescended to help Su Jin up first before leading the office’s people silently back inside.
Assistant Minister Lu, kneeling at the back of the crowd, watched as Zhu Nanxian’s display of warning was clearly determined to be played out to the end. He silently gave a look to a minor clerk kneeling beside him.
Understanding, the clerk quietly shuffled backward on his knees and withdrew from the crowd.
At the fourth watch, the Seven Ministers completed their audience and withdrew from the Fengtian Hall, returning to their respective offices.
Liu Chaoming had not slept all night. He was discussing matters with Zhao Yan while drafting a memorial when he suddenly heard three knocks at his door. It was the Censorate clerk he had sent to follow Assistant Minister Lu of the Ministry of Justice in making arrests.
The clerk recounted what he had witnessed through the night, concluding: “Originally the arrests were proceeding smoothly, but the Thirteenth Prince suddenly blocked both the Assistant Minister of the Court of Imperial Entertainments and the Assistant Minister of Justice outside the office gates, demanding they explain clearly what crimes each person being escorted had committed.”
Liu Chaoming’s brush paused: “Why?”
The clerk said: “Though the Thirteenth Prince didn’t say explicitly, but… anyone with eyes could see that all this was for Magistrate Su.”
Liu Chaoming slammed the brush in his hand on the table with a sharp sound, saying icily: “Is he brainless?”
The clerk trembled in fright and glanced at Zhao Yan.
Zhao Yan shook his head and said to Liu Chaoming: “Don’t be hasty.” But he also found it both exasperating and amusing, frowning as he smiled: “I think if the Thirteenth Prince continues making a scene until dawn, once morning court ends, the entire court will know that Zhu Shisan dared to obstruct even his imperial father’s decree for the sake of a mere magistrate.”
The clerk observed the two supervising officials’ expressions, then added: “Reporting to the two Censor Lords, this actually isn’t entirely His Highness’s fault. Magistrate Su was already injured, and this subordinate observed from afar that there wasn’t a trace of color left on his lips. Yet Assistant Minister Ma of the Court of Imperial Entertainments insisted on putting the neck cangue on him. The Thirteenth Prince was probably afraid he couldn’t endure the night, which is why he made such a scene.”
Liu Chaoming raised his hand to massage his temples and sighed: “Forget it. I’ll go bring him back.”
—
Author’s Note:
1. The “one cup of clear tea” couplet is not my own creation. I saw it in a book previously—I couldn’t write such a couplet myself, hehe.
2. Junior fire-tender: refers to eunuchs of the lowest status (Ming Dynasty).