In mid-March, after the magnificent and extravagantly costly funeral of Crown Prince Yide finally concluded, it was at last time for the long-awaited ceremony of rewarding merit.
The Emperor was exceedingly generous. He issued three imperial edicts in succession: he elevated his younger brother, Prince Xiang Li Dan, to the title of Prince Xiang of An’guo, conferring upon him the rank of Grand Commandant and joint administration of the Three Departments at the third grade; he bestowed upon his sister, Princess Taiping, the additional honorific of “State-Stabilizing Princess Taiping” with an actual fief of five thousand households; and he enfeoffed his nephew Li Huazhang as the Realm-Protecting Prince Yong of Yongguo, granting him the position of Guanglu Minister, in recognition of the three individuals’ merit in supporting his enthronement. Beyond this, ministers who had participated in the Shenlong Coup — such as Xie Jichuan, Jiang Ling, and Ren Yao — were all promoted and granted noble titles.
Once these three edicts were issued, the entire city of Chang’an fell stunned. Having honorifics such as “Realm-Securing,” “State-Stabilizing,” and “Realm-Protecting” added to one’s title was undoubtedly a great honour — yet aside from these fine-sounding names, Prince Xiang, Princess Taiping, and Li Huazhang had received nothing of any substance. In truth, it was a promotion in name but a demotion in reality.
Setting aside Prince Xiang and Princess Taiping for the moment, the case of Li Huazhang was the most blatant. Li Huazhang had previously served as the Deputy Governor of the Jing Zhaoyiin prefecture. The Emperor had promoted him to Guanglu Minister — seemingly an elevation from the subordinate fourth rank to the subordinate third rank — but the Governor of Jing Zhaoyiin administered the civil affairs of the capital region, whereas the Guanglu Minister oversaw banquets, ceremonial offerings, palace gates, tents and implements, and the meals of officials at court audiences. In other words, he had become the head chef of the imperial palace.
The fall from lord of the capital to superintendent of palace kitchens was a gap so obvious even a three-year-old child could see it. In contrast, relatives of Empress Wei and trusted confidants of Princess Anle were flooding into the vital positions of the court.
People found it easy to read the signs: though the Tang dynasty had been restored, the Li family was no longer a monolithic whole.
Li Xian had managed, with great difficulty, to reclaim the throne. For years he had endured precarious uncertainty and suffered at the mercy of others. Once he ascended, his first order of business was to generously compensate himself for the suffering of those years, and his second was to consolidate power.
Even his own mother had sought to harm him — how much more so his brothers, sisters, and nephews? The most important lesson those ten years of wandering had taught him was that power must be held firmly in one’s own hands.
In Li Xian’s eyes, Prince Xiang, Princess Taiping, and Li Huazhang were all outsiders. His wife and children, who had shared hardship with him, were his own people. His eldest son had been beaten to death; his second son had been demoted to commoner status; his third son had been distant from him since childhood, and there was little affection between father and son. The only person Li Xian could rely upon was Empress Wei.
Regrettably, Empress Wei’s fate had been unkind. During her time as Crown Princess consort, she had enjoyed no benefits whatsoever, spending the vast majority of her time in fear and dread. She had endured fifteen years of bitter hardship, her youth consumed entirely, and had only just managed to outlast her suffering and reach better days. Yet when she finally wished to wield the authority of empress — and even the celestial empress — in the manner of her mother-in-law, she abruptly discovered that her uncles, brothers, and even nephews had all been killed by Empress Wu. Only a few inconspicuous nephews in the margins had, through their unremarkable talent and virtue, been fortunate enough to escape the great purge.
The Wei family had no one of use. Her only son had been beaten to death by Empress Wu herself — what hatred, what an incomprehensible, bone-deep hatred! Yet she dared not act against Empress Wu, so she could only grit her back teeth and promote her sons-in-law and in-laws instead.
Fortunately, she still had a daughter, married into the household of Prince Liang. Unlike the Wei family, Prince Liang had flourished across generations, with a great many sons and grandsons. After Empress Wu abdicated to the Shanyang Palace, Prince Liang — being a member of the Wu clan — was in a precarious position, and could only depend on Empress Wei. If wielded well, he would prove a sharp blade indeed.
And so a peculiar spectacle unfolded in court: Prince Yong, Princess Taiping, Prince Xiang, and others had risked their lives to plan the coup, overthrowing Empress Wu’s rule and supporting Li Xian’s enthronement. Li Xian, having received the throne without effort, made no repayment to the meritorious ministers. Instead, he lavishly promoted the old forces left behind by Empress Wu — Prince Liang.
Those who had been overthrown emerged unscathed and were promoted with noble titles. Those who had launched the coup found themselves marginalized one by one. Within mere days, the winds of Chang’an shifted again. Those who had once feverishly courted Ming Huashang realised they had bet on the wrong horse. They discarded the Duke Zhenguo manor with disdain and swarmed toward the residences of Empress Wei and Princess Anle.
Ming Huashang found that her moment of prominence had been brief. Very quickly, she returned to the state of being ignored and unnoticed. A long breath of relief escaped her — as expected, she was still more accustomed to living this kind of life.
Ming Huashang had no interest in listening to the social dramas of the outside world — how many had soared to prominence, how many had grown rich overnight, how many had wagered on the wrong stake. None of it concerned her. She could at last, with full concentration and genuine joy, prepare for her own wedding.
Within the Duke Zhenguo manor, Ming Huashang picked up her needle and thread for the first time in a long while and began embroidering flowers on a sachet. Ming Yuji, seeing this, found it remarkable: “What made you think of embroidering?”
Ming Huashang snipped the thread end and held the half-finished piece before her eyes, examining it carefully. “I probably won’t be able to stay home for the Dragon Boat Festival this year. I suddenly realised that I don’t think I’ve ever added anything to the household over these years — I feel truly ashamed about that. I thought I’d take advantage of this quiet time and embroider a few sachets for the family. Fill them with medicinal herbs and hang them over the doors and around the bed curtains, to repel insects and ward off evil.”
Ming Yuji walked over to look at her handiwork and, speaking plainly, it really wasn’t very good. Ming Yuji said: “If it strains your eyes too much, you don’t have to bother — you can go buy a few ready-made ones from a shop outside. There’s no need to go to all this trouble.”
“That won’t do,” Ming Huashang said immediately. “Can what’s bought from a shop be the same as what I make with my own hands? Father’s cough is getting worse and worse. The fabrics from outside are never quite satisfactory. I’ll do it myself.”
Ming Yuji, seeing her good intentions, didn’t have the heart to discourage her. She stood beside the daybed watching for a while, then asked with puzzlement: “What exactly are you trying to embroider? I can’t make out the shape at all.”
Ming Huashang cast a mournful glance at Ming Yuji — though she knew Ming Yuji was telling the truth. Ming Yuji had always said what she thought, regardless of whether it was flattering to her audience. Ming Huashang said sadly: “This is a small portrait I’m making of Father.”
Ming Yuji raised an eyebrow, hemmed and hawed for a moment, and said: “Very unique. Very heartfelt.”
Apart from it being slightly difficult to tell it was a portrait, there was no other fault to find.
Ming Huashang pursed her lips and scrutinised her own work. Was it really so difficult to recognise this as Duke Zhenguo? She had embroidered it with such lifelike fidelity!
Unwilling to see her work go unappreciated, Ming Huashang retrieved a stack of drawings from beneath the writing table and displayed them before Ming Yuji as though presenting treasure: “Sister, look — these are the portraits I painted of Father. Don’t they capture his spirit perfectly? I’ve been diligently refining my painting skills for a year now. Even the old constables at the Jing Zhaoyiin office praised my portraits — one of them took a drawing and caught the culprit straightaway.”
Jin Bao, who was standing nearby, was utterly speechless. “My lady, how can you speak of your own paintings that way? It’s unseemly.”
“What’s wrong with it?” Ming Huashang said with great seriousness. “That’s precisely evidence that I paint well. A painting that’s useful is the best painting of all.”
Ming Yuji took the stack of papers and flipped through them one by one. Ming Huashang’s needlework was poor, but her paintings were vivid and lifelike. Beyond the portrait of Duke Zhenguo, there were drawings of Ming Yuji, the old Madam Ming, the maids, even the birds perched at the eave’s corners. The final painting depicted a clump of bamboo growing along a wall, its shadow cast against the surface, swaying in the wind.
Although Ming Yuji did not recognise the building in the background, she knew without question that this was something Ming Huashang intended for Li Huazhang.
The most ordinary things of daily life, Ming Huashang saw them in this way.
It was the first time Ming Yuji had been painted by anyone, and she felt slightly awkward. She stiffly changed the subject: “It’s clear you’ve put real effort into your painting. Since you can study seriously when you choose to, why didn’t you apply yourself before?”
“That’s different.” Ming Huashang leaned back against the daybed, swinging her legs gently, and said: “I used to study music, chess, calligraphy, and painting in order to become a wife. The more others pressed me, the less willing I was to learn. But later I took up painting in order to catch criminals and uncover the truth — that was something I truly wanted to do. Naturally, with no one needing to say a word, I practised diligently on my own.”
Ming Yuji said: “Yet in another month’s time, you’ll be going to become a wife.”
“That is my own choice to go and spend my life with another person.” Ming Huashang’s face carried a smile, her eyes bright and luminous. “Prince Yong is his duty, but Princess Yong consort is not mine. My task is to read books, learn to paint, study people, and live happily.”
She genuinely liked Li Huazhang very much — when she spoke of him, even her eyes shone with light. Ming Yuji asked: “The situation at court is now unpredictable. Are you not worried?”
“What is there to worry about?” Ming Huashang replied without a moment’s thought. “The person I’m marrying is Second Brother, who grew up alongside me — not the Realm-Protecting Prince Yong. The Duke Zhenguo manor has been through difficult times before. How we were then is how we’ll be again. Nothing changes.”
“Truly, a daughter grown up is her own person now. You haven’t even left home yet, and you’re already thinking of sharing joys and hardships with your son-in-law.”
A voice suddenly came from outside. Ming Huashang and Ming Yuji were both startled, and sprang up from the daybed: “Father?”
Not only Duke Zhenguo — Li Huazhang had also walked in from outside. They had been so absorbed in their conversation that they had not noticed visitors arriving. Who knows how long the two had been listening.
Li Huazhang looked somewhat embarrassed, and explained helplessly: “I had no intention of eavesdropping on your sisters’ conversation. But Duke Zhenguo would not let me announce our presence. I apologise for the intrusion.”
Ming Huashang made a displeased sound and, in ill temper, gathered up her embroidery and paintings. She reproached: “I knew something this shameless could only be Father’s idea. Don’t you know that girls’ conversations are private?”
Duke Zhenguo loudly protested his innocence: “What did I do? Why is every shameless thing blamed on me? Huashang, you haven’t even left home yet, and already you’re turning against your own family?”
Ming Huashang retorted without backing down: “Second Brother is not an outsider.”
Li Huazhang had not expected his words to start a quarrel between father and daughter. He quickly stepped in to smooth things over: “It’s all my fault. I’m to blame — my resolve was not firm enough. I failed to resist when I should have, failed to give warning when I should have, and now it seems I am trying to shirk responsibility after the fact. I beg Duke Zhenguo and Huashang to forgive my lack of consideration.”
Li Huazhang’s manner of acknowledging fault was so genuinely sincere that even Ming Yuji, who was inclined to find fault, could find nothing to criticise. Ming Yuji also raised her voice slightly: “All right — how old are you all, still squabbling? People will laugh at us. Both of you, say less.”
Once Ming Yuji spoke up, neither Ming Huashang nor Duke Zhenguo dared make any more fuss. Each one recognised it was time to stop.
After Li Huazhang’s arrival, the maids brought over chairs and everyone took their seats. Duke Zhenguo sat on the daybed and looked toward the sewing basket on the table. “Where is Huashang’s embroidery? Why did she put it away?”
“I certainly won’t let you see it.” Ming Huashang snatched up the sewing basket and went padding off behind the partition screen, where she hid the bamboo basket. Li Huazhang watched her and laughed, saying: “Whatever you embroider, it is the finest thing in the world. There’s no need to hide it so deeply — be careful you don’t lose it later.”
After Ming Huashang had safely buried her carefully prepared “surprise,” she walked back into the main hall and, quite naturally, sat down beside Li Huazhang: “Since it’s a gift, how could I let you see it beforehand? You two are really so tiresome — who told you to eavesdrop!”
Li Huazhang offered a stream of apologies, his patience impossibly good. Ming Yuji, however, noticed that when Ming Huashang returned she had chosen the seat closest to Li Huazhang, and that as they spoke, her body unconsciously leaned toward him. She could not say whether the two of them were doing so deliberately, but from an outsider’s perspective, they were unmistakably flirting with each other.
Love needs no words. Every small detail revealed what was in their hearts.
Duke Zhenguo gave a low, deliberate cough. Ming Huashang turned her head with a perfectly blank and innocent expression, and asked sincerely: “Father, is your throat uncomfortable again?”
Li Huazhang raised an eyebrow slightly, registering the subtle displeasure of the man who was currently his father-figure and would soon be his father-in-law. He smiled and said: “By rights, an unmarried couple ought not meet before the wedding, and my calling today without prior arrangement is a breach of propriety. I ask Duke Zhenguo to forgive my lack of forethought.”
Ming Yuji sat on the other side of the daybed, took a sip of tea, and watched the scene with serene amusement. Men really were such vain and straightforward creatures — one, well past forty, still sulking like a child, and the other, knowing full well he was in the wrong, yet resolutely refusing to change.
Sure enough, now that Li Huazhang had laid the matter plainly, Duke Zhenguo could no longer very well make a scene. He sighed, and then his expression turned serious: “There are no outsiders here, so I won’t speak in empty pleasantries. I spent the first half of my life in service to the court, and in the blink of an eye twenty years have passed in turmoil. What remains of the second half of my life is not much. I ask for nothing more. Those rules and proprieties — I don’t care about any of them. What others say about the Ming family, what they think of the Ming family — none of that matters. The only thing that matters is that you all live well, and do not walk the road I walked.”
Li Huazhang heard the meaning beneath Duke Zhenguo’s words, and his own expression also grew earnest. “Duke Zhenguo, please be at ease. Now that the great Tang has been restored and the realm is at peace, my aspirations have been fulfilled. For the rest of my life, family is the most important thing. I will never, for the sake of others, let down those beside me.”
Duke Zhenguo’s mind was set at rest upon hearing this. Li Huazhang had rendered great merit in the restoration of Tang from Zhou, yet human hearts were difficult to overcome, and the Li imperial family had ultimately taken the step toward fracture and disarray. Duke Zhenguo had feared that Li Huazhang would be unable to let it go — that he would become overly fixated on court affairs and retrace the path Duke Zhenguo himself had once walked.
Fortunately, the young man he had raised with his own hands was more clear-sighted than he, and more responsible too. Duke Zhenguo sighed and said: “As long as you yourself have thought it through. This is not your fault. When you reach my age, you will understand: the affairs of this world move in a circle. You strive for a lifetime, only to find yourself back at the beginning in the end. It is better to see things lightly, and to cherish time with your family — that is the most solid thing of all.”
Li Huazhang acknowledged this with a respectful reply. After the Emperor had displaced him from the Jing Zhaoyiin prefecture to the Guanglu Ministry, others who saw him were full of righteous indignation and lamentation on his behalf. In truth, Li Huazhang himself was rather composed.
As he had told Han Jie, supporting Li Xian as Emperor had been the optimal choice after careful deliberation. Since he had already made that choice, he had naturally also anticipated the scene that now unfolded.
The coup had not spilled unnecessary blood. The Tang dynasty had been smoothly restored. His friends, his family, his beloved — all were alive and well. This was already the life he had dreamed of. And besides, in another month, Huashang would be married to him. How could he dare to be ungrateful?
Ming Huashang, hearing all of this, made no effort to conceal her feelings before her family. She reached out and took Li Huazhang’s hand solemnly: “There’s no need to worry, Second Brother. You still have me.”
Li Huazhang cast a swift glance at Duke Zhenguo. He wanted to tighten his grip on Ming Huashang’s hand but did not dare, and could only restrain himself to closing his fingers over hers. “I know,” he said.
It was precisely because he knew that Huashang would stand beside him — that she would not leave him over worldly things — that he was utterly indifferent to the suspicion and betrayal of his blood relatives.
He had already obtained the most precious jewel in all the world. Why should he trouble himself about the fireflies along the roadside?
Their brows were smooth, their manner composed. When they looked at each other, their eyes seemed to hold no one else in the world. It was evident they were entirely unconcerned with the injustice the Prince Yong household had suffered, and that they looked forward with genuine and wholehearted joy to the wedding that was soon to come. This sincerity moved even Duke Zhenguo and Ming Yuji who witnessed it.
Ming Yuji was silent for a moment, and then suddenly said: “The two of you will certainly have your wish — to remain by each other’s side always.”
Li Huazhang had heard this type of blessing many times of late, but he still met Ming Yuji’s gaze with solemnity and thanked her sincerely: “Thank you, Elder Sister.”
Ming Yuji raised a hand and said: “There’s no need to call me Elder Sister — I don’t deserve it. Since Second Sister does not consider you an outsider, then I’ll speak directly. Second Sister is to be married next month, and her dowry cannot go without furniture. I expect I will not be marrying, and leaving good rosewood furniture to sit unused would be a waste. It would be better to move it back and have it sent along as Second Sister’s trousseau. The truth is, this furniture was originally gathered as part of her dowry to begin with.”
When Ming Yuji had first returned to the manor, she could not immediately find matching furniture, and Ming Huashang had transferred a great deal from her own trousseau for Ming Yuji’s use. Ming Yuji had thought to herself that she could make do with anything, and she could not allow the trousseau Duke Zhenguo had originally prepared for Ming Huashang to be broken apart.
When a daughter married, her family of birth would prepare a complete set of furniture for her — from the bathing basin used at her ritual birth-washing to the bed upon which she would one day die — symbolising that everything a woman would need throughout her life came from her family of origin, to support her dignity in her husband’s household.
This was naturally a symbol rather than a literal truth — no woman’s dignity rested on a set of furniture — but it remained a wedding custom. And since Ming Huashang was marrying into the imperial family, her trousseau could not be allowed to appear lacking in any way.
Ming Huashang’s wedding was obviously of greater importance than Ming Yuji’s everyday needs. Ming Yuji could make do for a while, and find suitable pieces gradually over time.
“That won’t do,” Ming Huashang said immediately. “When Mother prepared these pieces, she had both of us in mind. They belong to both of us equally — one half each. Neither of us may take more than her share.”
“You are marrying first. It is rare to marry someone you truly love. Of course yours should take priority.”
“And does living at home mean yours is not genuine?” Ming Huashang persisted. “No matter whether you marry or not, the trousseau Mother prepared for you should be yours. If you force it on me, I’m going to be angry.”
Li Huazhang naturally did not care about such matters as a trousseau, but seeing the situation, he added his voice: “Quite so — the Prince Yong manor is fully furnished with everything it needs. If Huashang finds anything there she’s not accustomed to, we can have it replaced later. How could we trouble Elder Sister over this?”
Duke Zhenguo naturally could not stand by and watch his eldest daughter move the furniture out of her own room, and he also said at length that Ming Yuji should continue using it, and that new trousseau pieces would be procured. Ming Yuji listened to their words, and a faint warmth rose in her heart — though she also felt helpless.
Duke Zhenguo spoke easily, as if fine rosewood were some sort of plaything to be bought on a whim. Both good timber and good craftsmanship required time to mature. With only one month remaining until Ming Huashang’s wedding, to procure a complete set of furniture to one’s satisfaction was no easy matter at all.
Ming Huashang and Li Huazhang understood the reality of the situation, and both insisted that it need not be so particular. Ming Yuji was heartened that Li Huazhang was so considerate of his future wife’s family, but she could not truly allow her younger sister to be married into the Prince Yong manor with an incomplete trousseau.
Ming Yuji let out a quiet sigh. She thought to herself that there would be no avoiding a few extra errands in the days ahead — she absolutely had to make certain that everything was found and gathered in full. Whatever standing other young ladies had, Ming Huashang could not have any less.