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Zhao Yen had not yet experienced the affairs between men and women, nor was she the kind of worldly-wise prince—how could she ever look at such indecent books?
Wenren Lin was simply using last night’s matter as an excuse to make things difficult, insidious to the extreme.
Zhao Yen was clear about this in her heart, but could not show it on her face. She only gathered her sleeves and sat there dazed, her eyes appearing pure and innocent.
Wenren Lin did not buy her act of playing dumb. His fingertip idly rubbed as he slowly recited: “ ‘The man sits upright with legs spread, the woman straddles his thighs, her hands clasping the man’s neck.’ That was precisely the posture the Crown Prince used last night.”
Zhao Yen had been muddle-headed and ignorant, but upon hearing Wenren Lin’s deep, mellow voice reading aloud such blunt and vulgar amorous scenes, the tips of her ears actually began to burn.
Clearly, the hall was not warm, yet a nameless heat rushed up to her cheeks, surging outward to her limbs.
Wenren Lin leaned back against the chair. On his calm and handsome face there was not the slightest hint of frivolity or lewdness, as if he were merely discussing some thorny problem in the classics: “The Crown Prince has always been broadly learned and quick of memory, able to recite after a glance—how is it that now he pretends to be dull and foolish?”
Zhao Yen lowered her head and, following Zhao Yan’s temperament, chose the most fitting excuse: “Grand Preceptor Wen once instructed Gu, that when a gentleman stands in the world, he should revere propriety and teachings, read widely the words of sages. Therefore, Gu has never looked at such idle books.”
Wenren Lin gave a low “Oh”: “So it turns out, the Crown Prince is self-taught.”
Zhao Yen was mortified, and then heard this tricky, malicious fellow again say: “This posture may be easier for the man, but the Crown Prince, being still young and frail—if you indulge in it too much, you will not grow tall.”
The last words already carried a faint trace of laughter.
Zhao Yen blushed crimson, sullenly staring at the chessboard before her: “Student receives the teaching.”
Then she lifted her head, peach blossom eyes giving a gentle blink: “Does the Crown Prince’s Grand Preceptor also instruct in these matters?”
The Grand Preceptor of the Crown Prince of course did not instruct in such things; it was nothing more than a petty, vindictive amusement.
Wenren Lin rested his forearm on the chair’s armrest, the fine-textured sleeve fabric trailing down in elegant folds, without the slightest excess crease.
After scrutinizing the little Crown Prince’s anxious “struggle for survival” to his fill, he was finally in good spirits, tapping the chessboard with a bent finger.
The inner attendant at once stepped forward to reset the black and white pieces, gathering them into the chess jar with deft swiftness, not making the slightest grating sound.
Li Fu had been following at Zhao Yen’s side. Seeing this, he lifted the hot soup simmering on the small stove nearby and brewed her a cup of tea.
The tea leaves had been tampered with; once drunk, they would temporarily disrupt the pulse, so that while feigning illness, Zhao Yen’s original feminine yin pulse could also be concealed. This was something Zhang Xu of the Imperial Medical Bureau had stayed up late to prepare, in case of need.
But the days ahead were long; one could not rely on feigned illness every time to muddle through.
Zhao Yen set the tea aside, without drinking it.
Fortunately, she had crammed at the last minute the night before, learning a rough outline of Zhao Yan’s “Swallow Tail Formation” from Lady Liu. Though her technique was clumsy, it was more than enough to put on a show.
After all, the “Crown Prince” was still young. To lose to the Prince Su, whose power shook the world, would not be considered a flaw.
Sure enough, she was utterly defeated; the so-called “Swallow Tail Formation” could not withstand even seven moves before Wenren Lin.
“Gu has lost.”
Zhao Yen obediently placed down the piece in surrender, yet in her heart secretly exhaled in relief, as though she had survived a calamity.
But Wenren Lin did not intend to let her off.
“Where did you lose?”
He leafed through the military texts to be lectured tomorrow, his ability to use one heart for two purposes displayed to the utmost.
Zhao Yen put on a docile air of self-reflection, yet her eyelashes trembled restlessly without end.
Wenren Lin tapped the upper-right position with the book scroll, the black-iron ring on his finger reflecting a chilling gleam.
He said: “The Crown Prince only sees the profit before his eyes; with the slightest enticement he falls into a trap. When did you become so eager for quick success and instant gain?”
Zhao Yen kept her head lowered, speaking gently: “After all, to play chess with someone as formidable as the Grand Preceptor, I was a little nervous.”
Wenren Lin looked over, his gaze falling upon the small mole at the corner of her eye. After pondering for a moment, he said in a low voice: “A mistake in one move of chess can still be played again. But if the Crown Prince were to take the wrong step in the imperial city, where would there be a second life to live again?”
Zhao Yen inclined her head: “What the Grand Preceptor says is most true.”
Wenren Lin leaned back in the chair, lightly tapping his palm with the scroll: “I must trouble the Crown Prince to return to the palace and hand-copy the essay ‘Alliance’, to polish your disposition.”
Zhao Yen nodded: “The Grand Preceptor is farsighted.”
“The Winter Festival approaches. The whole court shall rest for seven days. The Crown Prince need not come to Chongwen Hall these next few days.”
“Grand Preceptor…”
Wait!
Zhao Yen’s wandering eyes suddenly focused, lifting her head to look toward Wenren Lin.
To think such a good thing existed in the world!
“That truly is… most unfortunate…”
Zhao Yen shook her head with a sigh. In that instant she ran through in her mind every sorrow she had ever suffered, only just managing to press down the heart that was leaping with joy.
Wenren Lin’s lips curved with a smile that held no warmth, too lazy to expose her.
The bell sounded right on time, signaling the end of the half-day’s lessons.
Zhao Yen gathered her sleeves, bowed in farewell to the Grand Preceptor, and only when the sound of his footsteps grew more and more distant, until they could no longer be heard, did she raise her eyes from the cover of her sleeves and signal to Li Fu: “Has he gone?”
Li Fu, carrying the now-cold teacup, withdrew and glanced toward the doorway: “He’s gone.”
Zhao Yen had survived.
As the year’s end drew near, the skies of the capital were more often overcast than clear. The snow had melted not yet for ten days, and already within the northern wind there was once more the damp chill of ice and snow.
The only one in high spirits was Zhao Yen; on the return journey even the corners of her lips would not stay down.
Thinking of Lady Liu’s matter, Zhao Yen once again detoured to Kunning Palace to pay respects, and reported truthfully how Lady Liu had assisted her in dealing with Prince Su, so that the Empress Dowager might be at ease.
By the time she returned to the Eastern Palace, it was already dusk. Holding the gilt hand warmer, she alighted from the carriage, and from afar saw the commander of the Eastern Palace guards, Gu Xing, standing alone beneath Yongfu Gate.
Zhao Yen cleared her throat and instructed Liuying: “Prince Su ordered me to hand-copy the military essay Alliance. Go fetch it for Gu.”
Liuying suspected nothing, accepted the command, and withdrew.
Zhao Yen went into the study and dismissed the attending inner servants who ground the ink. Before even half a cup of tea’s time had passed, Gu Xing indeed arrived, carrying a plain cloth bundle.
“Your Highness the Crown Prince.”
He gave a bow, then carefully presented the items from within the bundle: “The scrolls, paper, and ink that Your Highness ordered this humble one to fetch are all here.”
Zhao Yen asked evenly: “Did you disturb anyone?”
Gu Xing replied: “This humble one only said I went home to fetch some things. I did not let others know. At the Mingde Pavilion, it was also this humble one who personally counted and arranged everything.”
“You do things steadily.” Zhao Yen was quite satisfied.
Gu Xing quickly lowered his head: “This is merely the duty of this humble one, I dare not claim credit.”
Steady and cautious in handling affairs, honest and loyal in character—he was someone who could be of use. Zhao Yen secretly approved.
“Go and see to your tasks. In the future there will be times when Gu has need of you.” Zhao Yen motioned for Gu Xing to withdraw.
She flipped through briefly. Most of the books were for listening to lectures, densely filled with notes in vermilion brush, showing the upright seriousness of the hand that wrote them.
There were very few letters left. While Liuying had not yet returned, Zhao Yen hid the cloth bundle inside her wide fox-fur cloak, silently bringing it back to her sleeping quarters.
In the stillness of deep night, Liuying came as usual to inspect the sleeping chamber. She carefully tucked in the corners of the quilt for her mistress, blew out the excess candles, then lowered the bed-curtain, closed the door, and withdrew.
Zhao Yen strained her ears to listen. When the palace doors shut tight and the footsteps receded, she rose from bed with robe over her shoulders, carrying the small gauze lamp kept by the bedside for the night, and went toward the small inner room behind the screen.
She pressed the secret compartment at the bottom tier of the bookshelf, taking out the letters from the Mingde Pavilion she had hidden there during the day.
Zhao Yen sat directly upon the floor, clutching these few letters and essays her elder brother had left behind to her bosom. Only after letting out a deep breath, with a faint ache of being near to home yet timid of it, did she open them.
The night lamp burned dim, only one person, one shadow to keep company.
【Tribute Student Wang Yu, prostrates in petition before His Highness the Crown Prince】
Just a few letters, each making concise views regarding propriety, national law, and current governance. The signatures were all from Confucian scholars of the Mingde Pavilion—most likely the very same group with whom Zhao Yan had conversed so cordially.
