The Emperor and Empress had yet to arrive. The banquet at the Vermilion Terrace had not yet begun, but most of the scholars and officials had already taken their seats.
The Spring Banquet was a grand affair — every person of name and rank in the court was entitled to a cup of the new wine bestowed by the Emperor. This spring was different from those of previous years: last year was the first imperial examination held since the young Emperor Zhao had ascended the throne, and so the banquet had more fresh faces than in the three years prior.
A young civil official was explaining things to a friend who had just been newly selected for the Qiong Ting: “…You were not in the capital three years ago, so you know little of it — after the Thorn-Crabapple case, His Majesty was still very young when he hastily ascended the throne, which naturally unsettled many court officials.”
Xu Dan was a man from Beiyou. He had placed eleventh in the second tier of this year’s examination — not quite comparable to the top laureates, but owing to his excellent reputation in his home region, he had been exceptionally promoted and selected for the Qiong Ting.
Before the young official had finished, Xu Dan interrupted in confusion: “But the late Emperor had many sons — after Crown Prince Chengming passed away, why did the Council of State choose His Majesty, the sixth-born?”
“Lower your voice, lower your voice!” The young official stamped his foot in alarm, lowering his own voice and scolding: “You dare say such things aloud — call you naive and you turn out to be outright foolish! His Majesty was a hidden dragon in waiting, blessed by Heaven. When the mountains and rivers fell, it was only natural he should soar to the heights.”
“He dares not say it — I’ll say it for him.”
On the other side of Xu Dan, a scholar holding a wine cup swept his gaze left and right, then suddenly spoke up: “After the Thorn-Crabapple case, when the late Emperor heard the news of the Crown Prince’s death, he was overwhelmed with grief and passed away himself — the Emperor’s death was sudden, and the edict of succession had not yet been redrawn. The imperial city was without a master. The officials of the Council of State entered the palace through the night to deliberate countermeasures. The great capital families were each scheming for themselves, each trying to push their own imperial prince to the throne. It looked as though bloody turmoil was inevitable…”
The Emperor and Empress had not yet arrived, nor had the chief minister. Seeing everyone around them drinking and talking, the young official sighed and, unable to help himself, leaned in a little closer and continued explaining to Xu Dan: “Later, Grand Preceptor Yu — the chief minister — stepped forward to mediate, and proposed to endorse the current Emperor’s enthronement, since he was not born of a great noble family. His Majesty, as a prince, had been of a timid disposition; though his birth mother had once enjoyed imperial favor, she had originally been a serving maid to the late Empress and could not serve as the mother of the realm. The Grand Preceptor’s proposal was met with a torrent of condemnation from the Censorate, who accused him of wishing to emulate the treacherous advisors Li Si and Zhao Gao — holding a young emperor in his clutches to control the realm.”
“Yet among the late Emperor’s many sons, only His Majesty truly had no threat of maternal relatives and powerful clans. Moreover, he had received the care and protection of Crown Prince Chengming for many years and was the Crown Prince’s close kin in the Eastern Palace. The various factions argued at length and reached no conclusion. History recorded both the disorder of noble families in politics and the overreach of chief ministers — the warnings of predecessors were still fresh before their eyes, and the present predicament was difficult to resolve from either side.”
“The capital was in crisis; the Imperial Guards and garrison troops had even drawn swords at the Eastern Gate, and armed conflict was on the verge of breaking out… At that critical moment, it was fortunate that Her Highness the Empress stepped forward and resolved the impasse.”
Xu Dan listened with his heart pounding, and could not stop exclaiming: “Truly a narrow escape! But Her Highness is merely a woman — how could she resolve such a crisis threatening all under Heaven?”
The scholar with the wine cup said with dissatisfaction: “They say the women of your Beiyou are spirited and bold — you’ve even produced women generals — and yet you, a man from Beiyou, let fall such words and look down on women! Could the current Empress possibly be compared to an ordinary person?”
Xu Dan quickly apologized: “That was prejudiced of me. I have long heard of Her Highness’s excellent reputation — she is a woman of extraordinary talent, rarely seen in a hundred years.”
The young official at the side also expressed his agreement: “Indeed so. The Empress comes from the founding merit family of Great Yan — the Su clan has held distinguished official posts generation after generation, with three chief ministers across two generations — how illustrious! Her Highness is the eldest granddaughter of the Honorable Su Wensheng and the eldest daughter of the Emperor’s teacher, with deep scholarly roots in her family; she also studied under Counselor Gan and the venerable Master Zhengshuo. Accomplished in both the literary and martial arts, she is without question a true paragon of feminine virtue, a noble woman among women…”
The scholar with the wine cup truly could not endure his long-winded flattery any longer, and cleanly interjected: “Her Highness the Empress had long since been formally invested as Crown Princess-Designate, only still in mourning for her father, so she had not yet completed the marriage to Crown Prince Chengming. When this matter arose, Her Highness, in order to protect the life of the current Emperor — who had been on close terms with Crown Prince Chengming — so that he would not become a puppet and live in daily peril, took up the Heaven-Bestowed Sword passed down through the Su clan for generations, and with a single stroke cut down the overbearing noble family official who had been terrorizing the Imperial Street, opening the way for His Majesty.”
“All the upright civil officials in the court were without exception students of the Su school; the Yan military family — who had not yet gone to garrison Beiyou at that time — also had old ties with the Su clan. Everyone risked their lives to stand guard, allowing Her Highness the Empress to suppress what had nearly become a full rebellion in the capital. The Grand Preceptor, representing the noble families, conceded, and only then was His Majesty able to ascend the throne.”
Xu Dan sighed: “I am a rough man from the north who has only heard of Her Highness’s virtuous words and deeds, yet did not know she possessed such courage. Every man in the realm should hang his head in shame upon hearing it.”
The young official jumped in: “The story is not yet finished — when His Majesty ascended the throne he had not yet come of age, and by custom the Council of State was to assist in governance. But the Grand Preceptor presided over the Council of State, and everyone feared the disaster of a minister seizing power. They wished for the Empress Dowager to rule from behind the curtain, but the birth mother of His Majesty came from too low a background, and that could not succeed either.”
“And so they quarreled for more than half a month before the officials all agreed and jointly petitioned: Her Highness the Empress and the Grand Preceptor were to assist in governance together, serving as a check upon each other. Only then did the court and realm finally settle.”
The scholar with the wine cup sighed: “Her Highness the Empress was no more than twenty years of age, and assisting in governance was unprecedented. At first there were still those who memorialized the throne complaining of a hen crowing at dawn — yet in these past few years, Her Highness has not only kept the Grand Preceptor’s influence in check, but has also worked alongside His Majesty to pacify floods and control locust plagues. She further dispatched the Yan family to Beiyou to quell the border troubles. Upright in conduct, never grasping for power — her virtue and wisdom are praised throughout the realm.”
Xu Dan said: “Her Highness, beyond her family heritage and the guidance of great teachers, also grew up alongside Crown Prince Chengming. The Crown Prince received his investiture at twelve and never received a word of reproach from the literati of the realm — such a man of brilliant talent, yet he met his end at the hands of rioters. How truly…”
The young official, in a rare display of restraint, did not rebuke him for this reckless remark, but only sighed: “The Thorn-Crabapple case plunged the realm into mourning. After the first year of Jinghe, for three years no flowers bloomed in the spring snow, and only this year has the sky finally cleared. When a holy Son of Heaven passes, it is no more than this.”
The three were still murmuring quietly among themselves when, from far away, they heard the long, drawn-out voice of an attendant eunuch announcing the arrival of the Emperor and the Grand Preceptor. The assembly at the foot of the Vermilion Terrace rose to bow.
“Long live His Majesty——”
The Emperor Zhao, Song Lan, was nineteen this year — a full head taller than when he had first ascended the throne. He arrived in company with Grand Preceptor Yu Qiushi, raised his hand casually to indicate that everyone should rise, and already carried within him a faint but unmistakable air of authority.
Xu Dan bowed, then after resuming his seat, stole a glance: the young Emperor Zhao wore a half-smile, bantering and laughing with the powerful minister at his side, and those traits — timidity, humility, and uncertainty — spoken of in the rumors seemed as though they had never once appeared on his face.
Yet this pair of ruler and minister, who in everyone’s eyes existed in a state of mutual threat and suppression, displayed in private none of the tension and hostility the rumors described.
After Song Lan was seated, he glanced sidelong at the Empress’s seat — still empty beside him — and then turned his head with concern: “Grand Preceptor, has your health been somewhat better of late?”
Yu Qiushi answered with relaxed and composed deference: “I am grateful for His Majesty’s concern. This official is well.”
He paused, then said with a touch of inquiry: “I hear His Majesty has brought back an old acquaintance from Beiyou.”
Song Lan toyed with the jade tassels at his waist and did not answer his question: “Zi Bai, why should you worry about such trivial matters? No matter who I have brought back from wherever, I am always reliant on you.”
Yu Qiushi said: “This official has no other intention — only that His Majesty’s action may invite criticism from the court officials.”
Song Lan laughed: “Zi Bai need not worry. Though the person was not present for last year’s special examination, his essay ‘A Discourse on the Wounded and the Knowing’ circulated widely in the capital for quite some time. This visit, I had the intention of meeting him as well. His official appointment is already decided — only the official document has not yet been issued. I have always been lonely since childhood and rarely found a kindred spirit; we got along extremely well, and on an impulse I did not wait for the Ministry of Personnel’s paperwork but simply had him follow the imperial procession back to the capital. I have thought it over — at most this was a procedural irregularity, but no great offense. Two days of grumbling will come to nothing.”
Yu Qiushi said: “Only — this official has heard that this person is…”
Before he could finish, the palace servants began calling out in long, drawn tones that Her Highness the Empress had arrived. Yu Qiushi exchanged a meaningful glance with Song Lan and immediately rose, waiting respectfully to one side.
When Luowei arrived, she first caught sight of Song Lan rising to greet her from a distance.
She had first met Song Lan when she was barely nine and a half; Song Lan was a year younger than her. Once they had grown close, every time he saw her coming he would wave to her from afar — the manner of a thoroughly boyish spirit. Now that his position was so lofty, he could no longer act so willfully as before, and so he sent attendants and rose to his feet to welcome her, showing the world their harmonious bond.
Only she could not tell how much of it was genuine, and how much was performance.
Luowei clasped her hands and bowed slightly, offering Song Lan a customary salute. Yu Qiushi at her side also knelt respectfully and kowtowed: “This official respectfully greets Her Highness the Empress.”
“Grand Preceptor, please rise.”
“This official gives thanks.”
Song Lan was wearing a reddish-ochre long robe today. By custom he should have worn vermilion or gold-purple, but he personally disliked those, and had changed into an unusual pale gold — not strictly outside the rules.
On his robes, a gold belt with rhinoceros-horn jade rings hung loosely at his waist; his long hair was pinned up in a topknot, secured with a black jade pin — its somber hue adding, by force, a measure of dignity to that slightly youthful face.
There was a rustling of voices below the terrace, praising the mutually admired bond between the Emperor and Empress that all the world envied. Luowei took Song Lan’s hand and settled into the seat to his right.
For some unknown reason, on this warm spring day, both their hands were as cold as ice, unable to feel even a trace of warmth from each other.
But Luowei had naturally long ceased to notice the discomfort in her palm. Song Lan, however, with a show of concern, grasped her hand more tightly and asked in a low voice: “Why are Older Sister’s hands so cold? You have only just recovered from your illness; you shouldn’t tire yourself. Have there been many matters to attend to lately?”
“Though it has been some days since the Beginning of Spring, today’s wind is quite strong,” said Luowei, shaking her head, her expression unchanged, even offering a sweet smile. She then changed the subject: “I have rarely seen the Grand Preceptor since the New Year. A few days ago, Suiyun also mentioned missing her father. Today we must certainly find a moment to let the two of them meet.”
The person Luowei mentioned was Yu Qiushi’s youngest daughter, Yu Suiyun, who had entered the palace in the second year after Song Lan established his Empress.
Song Lan’s rear palace was desolate. Besides the Empress, there was now only Yu Suiyun as Noble Consort, and one Luminous Consort who had been appointed by the Empress Dowager.
Yu Suiyun was Yu Qiushi’s daughter and naturally did not get along well with Luowei; the two had little contact ordinarily. Now that Luowei had said such a thing, it was unclear whether she intended to provoke the chief minister or not.
Song Lan glanced at Yu Qiushi, and only after Yu Qiushi laughed and said “This official gives thanks to My Lady” did Song Lan let out a long breath.
Luowei watched these two performing their act with cold eyes.
In the past she had been blind and deaf, and had not perceived even the slightest undercurrent of tension between this ruler and minister. She had always thought Song Lan was still the bewildered child she had first met — intimidated by the power of adults, forced to make himself small and accommodating.
Only after she came to know the truth did she realize in shock that all of this was simply theater performed for the world and for her. Yet now the time was not right, and though her heart was cold with disillusionment, she could say nothing more of it.
After the Empress was seated, the grand celebration at the Vermilion Terrace finally opened. The court orchestra played the Zhonghé Shao music’s Manifest Peace movement. Civil officials and new examination graduates came forward together to pay their respects, and the scene suddenly grew animated.
“Ting Yan?”
Luowei had been drowsy and distracted all day, drifting in and out of her thoughts, and it was only when Song Lan at her side called out a name she had never heard before that she suddenly came to her senses.
She raised her head and at once saw the young man in green robes who had just been ushered up onto the terrace.
He walked forward with unhurried ease, his every word and movement free of anxious trepidation, carrying only a languid, carefree composure.
A shadow crossed her heart; something stirred unexpectedly.
Song Lan leaned close and, in a voice only the two of them could hear, said softly: “…Older Sister, this is the Third Young Master Ye I promoted from Beiyou — he is, in a manner of speaking, an old acquaintance of both you and me. Does Older Sister still remember?”
The man in green robes bowed upright, performed three kowtows, and only then raised his head: “This official, Ye Hè, pays respects to His Majesty, and to My Lady.”
Luowei stared at him fixedly. He seemed to sense it, and a faint, barely perceptible smile crept to the corner of his lips.
Song Lan spoke: “Ting Yan, please rise.”
He replied: “This official gives thanks to His Majesty.”
Just as Luowei had said a moment ago — it had been clear and bright spring just a moment earlier, yet now at the horizon’s edge, clouds were piling up one upon another. A cloud passed before the sun, and the sky turned dim and overcast.
On one side, the solemn palace servants stood with downcast eyes; on the other, the cold-eyed chief minister watched. The gaze of the official in green swept over Luowei and paused for an instant.
Behind his faint smile, the sky above the imperial court was about to fill with wind and rain.
Luowei heard herself ask: “Third Young Master Ye? Third Young Master… have you taken your courtesy name?”
Song Lan, not noticing anything unusual in her manner, simply answered with a smile: “Of course. The Third Young Master’s given name is Hè, his sobriquet is Qú Huá, and his courtesy name is Ting Yan.”
“Yan… which character for ‘yan’?”
“The ‘yan’ of grand banquet.”