He knew too well the man who sat upon the dragon throne.

Yet this was far from enough.

Wenren Lin lightly stroked the jade pendant at his waist, his tone calm to the point of indifference: “Find an opportunity to pass the Emperor’s intentions on to Luozhou.”

Luozhou was the worst-hit disaster area in the floods this time, with tens of thousands of mu of farmland washed away and countless houses destroyed, all awaiting the court’s relief to save their lives. If they were to learn that their life-saving funds and grain had been diverted by the court to sacrifices to Heaven and to feed Daoists…

Zhang Cang shuddered, not daring to think further.

“By the way, My Lord, Cai Tian also reported one more matter.”

Zhang Cang said, “His Highness the Crown Prince has released word that the assassins are imprisoned in the jail of the Court of Judicial Review. It seems he has some plan in mind.”

Wenren Lin let out a laugh.

That little Highness could always put to use what he had taught, so quickly able to apply a stratagem of luring the enemy to perfection—of course, matters of wind and moon [romance] were an exception.

“Protect him in secret, that will suffice. No need to intervene.”

As he spoke, Wenren Lin gazed toward the distant, bustling palace city, his eyes fixing on the brilliantly lit Jiafu Tower of the Eastern Palace, and asked lightly, “What day is today?”

Zhang Cang raised his head to the sky, rubbing his dark-blue jaw as he thought: “The seventh day of the seventh month—today is the Qiqiao Festival. The consorts and palace women are all climbing towers to worship the moon, which is why the palace is livelier with lights than usual.”

Wenren Lin narrowed his eyes slightly, recalling that slender figure beneath the moonlight, a fair and exquisite face veiled in a soft radiance like moonlight—beautiful beyond reason.

Two days apart, and he already rather missed her.

Seeing his master’s hand, from time to time, stroking the mutton-fat jade pendant at his waist, Zhang Cang fixed his eyes and, smothering his conscience, flattered: “My Lord, this jade is carved so finely! This little dog with two ears and four short legs is lifelike indeed. Truly, the one who gave this jade must have had a sincere heart and skillful hands!”

Wenren Lin turned his head to glance at him, his gaze deep: “Well said.”

Zhang Cang raised his hand to his neck and laughed awkwardly: “This humble servant, you see, just loves speaking the truth…”

“Dock half a month’s salary. Go back and take a good look at your eyes.”

Saying this, Wenren Lin turned and went down the floor.

Leaving only Zhang Cang standing dumbfounded on the landing, scratching the back of his head in puzzlement: “But… why? Isn’t that jade carving exactly a mangy dog?”

On the Jiafu Tower of the Eastern Palace, Zhao Yen personally lit the palace lamps and, with a long pole, hooked them beneath the beams.

Looking far out, the night was thick as ink, the capital’s lights like a sea, but there was no answering glow from the Jingjian Tower of the Mingde Pavilion.

“Crown Prince Brother, isn’t the Qiqiao Festival about worshiping the moon? Why hang lamps?”

Huo Zhenzhen, carrying a box of glutinous-rice skins and red-bean filling for making qiaoguo, tilted her head to read the two characters written on the palace lamp: “Fu… Deng? What does this mean?”

Zhao Yen turned around to look at Huo Zhenzhen, trailing behind her like a little tail, and said helplessly: “Tonight is the Qiqiao Festival. Why does the Princess not remain in the palace with your aunt and the consorts, but comes here to me?”

“Because I missed Crown Prince Brother, so I came to see you!”

As she spoke, Huo Zhenzhen lifted up the assorted qiaoguo¹Qiaoguo (巧果) are “skill fruits” or “ingenuity pastries”, a traditional food made during the Qiqiao Festival (乞巧节). in her hands: “Zhao Yen and that fox-like Liu are not here, so no one brings you qiaoguo. Here, come make them with me.”

The last time Zhao Yen had made qiaoguo was back at Huayang Palace.

Her interest piqued, she washed her hands and sat with Huo Zhenzhen behind the table, flattening the glutinous rice balls, filling them, and sealing them up.

Huo Zhenzhen pressed the qiaoguo ball into the mold with the heel of her palm and asked: “Eh? Crown Prince Brother, aren’t you always fond of sweet things? Why are you making crab-roe filling?”

Zhao Yen’s fingertips paused slightly, then she found an excuse: “It is for Younger Sister.”

The “Crown Prince’s” Younger Sister was naturally the Princess Changfeng, far away in Huayang.

Huo Zhenzhen was somewhat displeased, pouting as she hummed: “I knew it, in your eyes and heart there is only your own blood sister! If only Father and Mother had given me such a gentle, broad-minded elder brother, who always thought of me and protected me, how wonderful that would be.”

Zhao Yen could not help but laugh in silence.

She envied her, yet how was she herself not also envious of her?

“Uncle and Aunt regard the Princess as a pearl held in the palm—having their love is not enough?”

“Enough of what? When Father and Mother are together in private, they don’t even allow me to come near! Sometimes they keep their chamber doors closed the whole day, only coming out when the maids attend them with water and combs—who knows what they are doing inside… I can only follow the nursemaid, without a single companion of my own age to speak with.”

As she spoke, Huo Zhenzhen handed the pressed qiaoguo to Liuying, telling her to put them into the small stove to bake.

Zhao Yen frowned at her own crooked, leaking crab-roe qiaoguo, hesitated for a while, then also placed it upon the stove, uncertain what sort of thing it would bake into.

“In just ten days it will be Crown Prince Brother’s birthday. How does Crown Prince Brother plan to celebrate?”

Huo Zhenzhen changed the subject, propping her chin in her palms with excitement: “How about inviting a troupe of jugglers to make merry?”

Birthday?

Ah yes, so a year had already passed.

Zhao Yen lowered her eyes. From that great rain at Huayang Palace last year onward, every birthday thereafter had lost all meaning of celebration.

Compared to such false merriment, she would rather leave the palace and go look upon Zhao Yan’s… nameless grave.

Seeing her long silent, Huo Zhenzhen grew puzzled, just about to ask, when Li Fu came upstairs and said: “Princess, Her Highness the Eldest Princess has come to fetch you home.”

“I know, I know.”

Huo Zhenzhen waved her hand, for the moment forgetting what she had meant to ask, only leaning forward and saying: “Then Crown Prince Brother, I will go back first! Remember to eat the qiaoguo when they are ready!”

Zhao Yen, imitating Zhao Yan’s manner, nodded gently and rose, saying: “Very well, Princess, go slowly.”

“No need to see me off, I will go down myself.” Saying this, Huo Zhenzhen lifted her skirt and, to the crisp sound of golden bells, lightly skipped downstairs.

Zhao Yen stood atop the gate tower of Jiafu, leaning on the railing to watch. She saw Huo Zhenzhen in a light-gold skirt, like a carefree fledgling bird, throwing herself without worry into the embrace of her father Huo Feng.

Huo Feng opened his arms wide, catching his spoiled daughter firmly. Princess Shoukang, full of loving smiles, brushed back the loose strands at her daughter’s temples.

Zhao Yen was gazing in absorption, when suddenly a tall shadow approached behind her.

She turned abruptly and looked up, nearly colliding with Wenren Lin’s chin.

Wenren Lin reached out to press against Zhao Yen’s forehead, preventing her from bumping into him, and laughed low: “What are you looking at, dazing off like that?”

Following Zhao Yen’s line of sight, he saw Huo Feng spinning his daughter in his arms before setting her down steadily, then leading wife and child to mount the carriage.

Wenren Lin understood, then slightly lifted his arm, opening his chest to her with a gesture, and said: “Come here.”

Zhao Yen felt a flush of shame and annoyance, as though her secret had been seen through. She stepped back a pace: “For what?”

Wenren Lin did not answer, only took hold of Zhao Yen’s wrist and gave a tug, drawing her into his embrace.

The night wind brushed past, the stars and moon were silent. Zhao Yen’s cheek was pressed tightly against the cool-textured robe of Wenren Lin, feeling the steady and powerful heartbeat within his chest.

A soundless, steady embrace.

Zhao Yen stared blankly with open eyes, as though something she had never been able to have in childhood was suddenly given to her by Wenren Lin now—surprise mingled with a faint, uneasy shyness.

Yet Wenren Lin gave her no chance to pull away. One arm held her waist, the other rubbed gently at the crown of her head.

“The Grand Preceptor’s embrace may occasionally serve for acting spoiled, Your Highness.”

His smiling voice seemed muffled within his chest, the vibration making Zhao Yen’s cheeks burn hot.

Footnotes

• 1
  Qiaoguo (巧果) are “skill fruits” or “ingenuity pastries”, a traditional food made during the Qiqiao Festival (乞巧节).