Xie Jing did not have time to offer too many explanations for the rumor of a “secret meeting at Mount Tang”; what shocked him the most were the four words “bathed together late at night.”
He did not dare to further provoke Xie Yi’s anger and instead asked his elder brother Xie Yan in a deep voice, “What time was this shoe delivered?”
Xie Yan was accustomed to Xie Jing’s carefree manner of not taking things to heart, and in his mind, he still only treated him as a child. Seeing his sudden change of expression at this moment, he was also taken aback and quickly said, “It wasn’t here when Prince Zhao sent someone to report around the end of Choushi[mfn]1:00 AM – 3:00 AM.[/mfn]. It was discovered by the servants sweeping the steps of the main entrance at the second watch of Maoshi[mfn]Approximately 5:30 AM.[/mfn].”
The second watch of the Maoshi—Xie Jing should have just laid down not long before then, perhaps not even fast asleep, yet the other party had already recognized the owner of the shoe and directly thrown this “evidence” of the secret meeting between Prince Zhao and Young Master Xie at the front gate of the Xie’s Mansion.
After dropping the shoe, they probably turned around and entered the East City morning market to spread the rumors.
The fact that the rumor could pinpoint “Mount Tang” indicates that their movements after they thought they had escaped last night must have been known to the other party.
However, the path from the woods to the Wu family’s manor, though not far, was still some distance, and last night they were extremely cautious to guard against any further moves by the other party, repeatedly confirming there were no pursuers before daring to head toward Mount Tang, and they didn’t even see a single person along the way.
Unless… there was an insider at the post station where they borrowed the horses?
But that’s not right either. If it was an insider, how could they allow them to safely take the horses and run away instead of continuing their accomplice’s unfinished assassination business?
Furthermore, how did such an ambiguous and delicate detail as “bathed together” leak out?
He temporarily suppressed the shock and suspicion in his heart, calmed down for a moment, and said to Xie Yi, “Father, I was at Mount Tang last night, and I did bathe with Prince Zhao, but as for a secret meeting,” he paused, “that’s not true.”
Xie Yi still stood with his hands behind his back, not even looking at him: “I doubt you would dare! I don’t care about the gossiping outside, I just hate that you keep getting involved with him. You don’t know the gravity of the situation!”
Xie Jing had no way to explain what happened last night, let alone clear the wrong of his innocent involvement; even if he had a hundred mouths, it would be useless, so he simply kept silent and quietly bearing this groundless slander.
Seeing his silence, Xie Yi thought he was guilty and timid, he rolled his eyes and turned around to ask in astonishment, “You wouldn’t actually want to be this damn Princess Consort Zhao, right?”
Xie Jing met his gaze, his clear eyes widening slightly as he opened his mouth yet for a moment did not know how to answer.
Xie Yan, who was watching from the side, couldn’t bear it anymore, quietly motioned for Xie Jing to get up from the ground first, and persuaded in a low voice, “Father, Zhiwu only encountered Prince Zhao because he was injured, wasn’t everything made clear last night? Just be extremely careful next time, and keep your distance in the future, that’s all.” He turned to Xie Jing. “Did you hear that?”
Xie Jing breathed a sigh of relief and obediently said, “Elder Brother is right to chastise me.”
Immediately upon seeing Xie Yan wink at him, he properly turned back to Xie Yi, bowed deeply, and said, “Father, I know I was wrong, I will keep less contact with him in the future. Market rumors will dissipate on their own; Father doesn’t need to worry about them.”
The only thing he could be certain of now was that Xie Yi did not suspect the shoe’s origin and believed it had merely been found by someone who delighted in gossip and drama and hurled at the gate to deliberately shame the Xie family rather than being evidence left by the culprit who had ruined a meticulously planned assassination.
Xie Yi’s anger had not subsided, but he also did not want to dwell on this unworthy son of his any further: “Letting you go out would only invite trouble, so you might as well stay at home for the entire month and not go anywhere.”
Xie Jing was confined for a month and carried the dirty boot in one hand as he returned to his own residence in the South Courtyard.
As he passed through the central courtyard, his elder brother’s young son Xie Jun was leaning by the pond feeding the koi and when he saw Xie Jing he happily waved his plump hand and called out “Little Uncle.”
Xie Jing was deep in thought over the matter he hadn’t figured out and for a moment didn’t notice Xie Jun’s call and was about to wander through the central courtyard in a daze.
The little fellow was displeased, he put down the fish food in his hand, and without heeding the servants behind him repeatedly calling “Young Master, be careful,” he rushed headlong into Xie Jing’s arms, knocking him out of his deep thoughts.
“You’ve gained weight again.” Xie Jing threw the boot aside to free his hands and, with considerable effort, picked Xie Jun up.
Xie Jun did not mind this “compliment,” which he heard almost every three days, and gave Xie Jing a big wet kiss on the cheek that left a bit of drool behind.
Xie Jing peered outside the corridor at the sun and knew this little troublemaker must have done something naughty again while the adults were too busy to discipline him: “At this hour, you should be in the study practicing your calligraphy. You still owe me three more copies of last month’s [Stele of the Mysterious Pagoda], I haven’t forgotten.”
Xie Jun was mercilessly exposed, pouted, and mumbled, “That stiff and steady one is too boring, much worse than Little Uncle’s handwriting.”
“Nonsense,” Xie Jing made a gesture to pinch his cheek. “Mine is called scribbling, that’s what a master’s work is called.”
“I don’t want to practice anyway.” Feeling aggrieved, Xie Jun leaned in close to Xie Jing, pressed his small face near, and whispered his complaints in his ear:
“Xiao Cui is an undercover spy Mother planted to watch me. She nags from morning till night and reports every tiny thing back to her. She even knows exactly when I sneak snacks and when I go to relieve myself, she’s practically grown three pairs of eyes!”
Xiao Cui was the maid who just told Xie Jun to “be careful.” Xie Jing found this amusing and was about to tease him, but he suddenly connected this to something else; his mind raced, and he realized something was wrong from these innocent childish words.
She even knows exactly when I sneak snacks and when I go relieve myself…
He suddenly widened his eyes, stood still for a moment, came back to his senses, and figured out where the core problem was—not the post station, but the Wu family manor!
Thinking of this, a sudden chill rose in Xie Jing’s heart, and he instantly thought of the three parrots that were consecutively poisoned to death when Prince Zhao’s Mansion was first established.
The only people who could have known they “bathed together” were the servants in the entire manor last night!
But he had no way of knowing whether it was the entire manor or just one person, or whether they were planted from the beginning or later bribed.
Xie Jing realized at this moment that he knew very little about Lu Lingcong, whether it was the person himself, the environment he grew up in, or the challenges he had faced.
He did not know whether Prince Zhao’s maternal family were merely wealthy merchants or had some other background, nor did he know if Lu Lingcong often used the Wu family’s manor as a temporary residence, or if he had previously experienced things similar to what he had experienced at the Prince Zhao’s Mansion.
Thinking back on the question Xie Yi had just asked and that he had not known how to answer, Xie Jing realized that perhaps he was not interested in becoming Princess Consort Zhao but was genuinely curious about Lu Lingcong as a person.
The other party clearly knew they had bathed together in the hot spring yet did not strike again, so what exactly were they afraid of?
Xie Jun saw Xie Jing freeze and repeatedly begged, “Little Uncle! Little Uncle, take me to play on the street, and don’t let Xiao Cui follow us!”
“Be good, go bother your father.” Xie Jing bent down, put him down, and patted the top of his head, “I can’t even get out myself.”
This was indeed the biggest problem now—he couldn’t get out.
Xie Jing had no martial arts skill for climbing walls and roofs, and to leave the mansion he could only use the roads, but the front and back gates were guarded by house servants, and Xie Yi would surely assign multiple “Xiao Cui” to monitor the South Courtyard for the next month to pay close attention to his movements, determined to enforce the confinement to the end.
Though he had a thousand guesses and a belly full of questions, and he wanted to tell Lu Lingcong at once, he was still helpless.
If only he had a homing pigeon—he thought helplessly as he stood in the connecting corridor between the front and back courtyards while looking up at the sky in all directions.
Xie Jing was confined from the sixth month into the seventh month, and though he repeatedly sent his servant boy out in secret to gather information, the news that came back was always unsatisfactory—while he was trapped at home with no way out, Lu Lingcong was carrying on as usual, gathering friends to drink here one day and listen to music there the next, completely unaffected by the rumors, and even seemed to be enjoying himself.
Xie Jing was somewhat annoyed; exchanging trust was not done this way.
Ostensibly, Xie Yi could not side with any party in the struggle for the Crown Prince position—even after Xie Jing and Lu Lingcong were married.
This was the principle his father had upheld throughout his many years of officialdom, and Xie Jing was well aware of it.
But in secret, and to risk saying something that could cost him his head, the emperor’s will be unpredictable; no one knew exactly how the country would be handled after his death. Whether the worthy, the eldest, the legitimate, or the youngest would be chosen was all unknown, let alone what the situation would be when the legitimate son Lu Lingzhang reached Prince Zhao’s current age.
Regarding the promise he made to Xie Yi to “reduce contact with Prince Zhao,” Xie Jing had no intention of outwardly agreeing but secretly defying.
Last night’s assassination was encountered by him purely by chance, and for the time being, he was aligned with Lu Lingcong to continue the investigation.
But once this incident blew over, by the first month of the next year he privately thought it best to keep his distance.
It was past the Chushu solar term[mfn]The end of Heat.[/mfn], but the “Autumn Tiger” was still fierce, and the weather was hot, stuffy, and humid.
After dinner, Xie Jing spent some time talking with his elder brother, sister-in-law, and Xie Jun. Then he aimlessly strolled back to his courtyard out of boredom.
The four characters “Chess Sound startles the Day” on the moon gate of the South Courtyard were personally chosen and inscribed by he himself; Xie Jing casually brushed aside the crisscrossed bamboo beside the door and used the tip of his foot to gather the fallen red petals, swept down by the early autumn squalls and sparse rain, into a pile.
He sent all the servant boys “guarding” him to the side rooms, out of sight and out of mind.
His confinement was about to end, and he had been particularly obedient this month, so the watch had long become a mere formality; thus, the servants were happy to be idle and went to enjoy the cool air instead.
Xie Jing lived alone in the South Courtyard; the place was small but tranquil, and at night there was no need to avoid anything. All four windows were open for ventilation and cooling, allowing the moisture from the small pond in the courtyard to dissipate to prevent stuffiness.
When Xie Jing pushed the door open and entered the room, he found it was dark, and his mood became even more sullen.
Normally, even if the servants were lazy, they would still light the candles in his room and warm the tea before sneaking off, at least not leaving the young master to return thirsty and grope in the dark for a tinderbox.
He fumbled around the room; his right ankle had only been healed for a few days, and he blindly bumped into the bogu shelf, hitting his big toe. Xie Jing hissed and cursed softly, wanting to go to the window to use the light and check if his toenail had turned purple.
Unexpectedly, as he turned and looked up, he almost cried out—the window on the other end of the room was wide open, and a person in white was sitting diagonally in front of the table, resting his right hand on his forehead with a faint smile, having watched him fussing around blindly for who knows how long.
Seeing Xie Jing turn back with a look of surprise, that person leisurely spoke: “Long time no see, have you missed me?”
The light and shadows were hazy, and because of the clothing, Xie Jing didn’t dare to recognize the person at first, but now that he heard the voice, he was certain who this uninvited guest was.
Recalling that the last time they met, the other party seemed to have specifically instructed him not to use honorifics all the time, Xie Jing deliberately retaliated, saying with a displeased tone, “Such a beautiful night, yet Your Highness is here to scare people, ruining the scenery.”
He sat on the other side of the small table and lifted his eyes to stare darkly at Lu Lingcong across from him.
The fabric of Lu Lingcong’s clothes was of an unknown make and looked very light and thin.
Xie Jing was accustomed to seeing him wear red or black; now, suddenly dressed entirely in snow-white like a handsome young gentleman. It was truly unsettling, and he couldn’t help but look a few more times.
“Looks good?” Lu Lingcong naturally noticed his gaze, hooked the corner of his lips, and pointed at Xie Jing, “You look better in it than I do.”
Xie Jing lowered his gaze and realized that since he had not gone out these days, he had grown lazy about tidying up and simply wore whatever he could grab after waking, and he was also dressed in a white robe.
He received a compliment that he was not sure counted as one and only asked, “How did you get in?”
Lu Lingcong sneered, “I climbed over the roof, of course. Did you really think your house servants could stop me?”
His tone made scaling the wall and entering the room sound as easy as walking on flat ground and carried an unwarranted hint of mockery, as if he were laughing at Xie Jing for staying obediently at home for a whole month without leaving.
The urge to share his guesses and questions had long been worn away by Lu Lingcong’s continuous antics, making Xie Jing suppress any thought of discussing serious matters, and he could not help but engage in a verbal spar, “What are you here for?”
He did not hide his disapproval, and Lu Lingcong likewise did not turn solemn, merely nodding toward the window.
Xie Jing looked in the direction he indicated and saw a crescent moon hanging high in the sky outside. A rare clear night in a season usually marked by thunderstorms and cloudy weather.
“The Star-Plucking Tower by the Qinhuai River is the best place to admire the moon.” He retracted his gaze. “The Xie’s Mansion cannot compare.”
Lu Lingcong’s eyes crinkled with laughter at his teasing, and he shook his head: “Today is the seventh day of the seventh month[mfn]Qixi Festival, basically Chinese Valentine’s Day.[/mfn].”
Xie Jing was stunned by the words, his eyelashes trembled, and he looked out the window again.
“We’ve even done something as remarkable as ‘secretly meeting and bathing together,’ it wouldn’t be right if we weren’t together on Qixi.”
Xie Jing turned his face and stared at Lu Lingcong as if facing a formidable enemy while trying to find a trace of madness in his expression.
Lu Lingcong seriously met Xie Jing’s gaze for a long time, and only when the latter frowned slightly and hesitated to speak did he break into a smile: “One day apart feels like three years. We haven’t seen each other for almost thirty days, which works out to a full twenty-two years,” he counted on his fingers. “Do you have to look so deeply troubled and hostile?”
Xie Jing’s thin lips were tightly pressed into a line, and only upon hearing Lu Lingcong wave his hand and say, “I won’t tease you anymore,” did his expression lighten slightly.
“I truly came to see you for serious business.” Lu Lingcong stood up. “An old acquaintance of mine has some reliable news that is worth hearing.”
Xie Jing tilted his head slightly, watching Lu Lingcong and waiting for him to speak, but Lu Lingcong simply beckoned with a finger and said, “That person is even more cunning than you and won’t leak a single word once away from her own territory. As soon as she heard I was going to tell you, she fell silent and said I should either take you to her place to hear it all or not expect to hear it at all.”
His expression wasn’t playful, and Xie Jing’s already fragile trust wavered again. He frowned and asked, “Where is the place?”
“You’ll know when we get there.” Lu Lingcong took two steps forward and gently took Xie Jing’s wrist, making a motion to pull him up. “Besides, don’t you also have something to tell me? You can’t hide things in your heart at all; it’s all written in your eyes.”
When Prince Zhao arrived, he came alone and unencumbered, moving freely up and down; but on his way out, burdened by Young Master Xie, he could not use his skill on the eaves and had to crouch, tiptoe, and slip quietly out the back door after a series of feints and detours.
The two rounded the wall of the South Courtyard of the Xie’s Mansion, and Xie Jing saw a magnificent horse tied beneath the willows by the road, entirely snow-white like its owner with not a single mixed hair, waiting quietly and obediently.
Lu Lingcong untied the reins, had Xie Jing support himself on his forearm to mount the horse first, then climbed up himself, reached around Xie Jing’s ribs, smoothed the white horse’s mane, and introduced, “This is Yi Yun, one of the side concubines of Prince Zhao’s Mansion.”
Xie Jing heard the laughter in his voice beside his ear and raised an eyebrow: “One of?”
“The other one is the fourth parrot that survived,” Lu Lingcong urged the horse to move, “but that one is too noisy, so I favor this one more.”
The “side concubine” most favored by Prince Zhao really lived up to her name; her four hooves were like the wind, and the two people and one horse swiftly moved through the streets like a shooting star.
Although Xie Jing had not been in Jinling for long, he naturally knew that his home was by the Qinhuai River, and looking at the slightly blurred scenery before him, he vaguely had some guesses about their destination: “Are you really going to the Star-Plucking Tower?”
“It’s ‘I was going to the Star-Plucking Tower anyway’,” Lu Lingcong’s medium-pitched voice came from behind him, but his words were not serious. “The fact that you could guess it in advance means we have a telepathic connection.
The Star-Plucking Tower was the most highly regarded establishment among the singing and courtesan houses along the Qinhuai River; though its name didn’t sound like a place of romance, it was no exaggeration to call it the capital’s number one gold pit.
Countless top courtesans there sold only their art, not their bodies, and even more celebrated beauties drew princes and young nobles who competed fiercely just to catch a glimpse of them.
Xie Jing naturally knew that Lu Lingcong couldn’t have specially brought him here for pleasure with his “beloved concubine,” but he couldn’t help but inwardly think that His Highness Prince Zhao was truly well-connected, actually having an old acquaintance who treated a brothel as their “own turf”—he didn’t know whether she was an old acquaintance or something more either.
Coinciding with the seventh day of the seventh month, the tower was busier and noisier than usual; light silks swayed, warm mist lingered, orioles sang, and swallows chirped; the scent of wine mingled with cosmetic powder relentlessly assaulted the senses, and before even climbing half a flight of stairs, one’s bones already felt somewhat softened.
Lu Lingcong seemed to be a regular here; as soon as he entered, before he could even stand still, a servant immediately came forward, showing discretion and savvy without drawing attention, and led the people directly toward the backyard.
Xie Jing had never set foot in such a pleasure spot, so he could only silently follow behind Lu Lingcong while keeping quiet and pretending to be a big wolf with a tail.
The servant led the two of them to the waterside terrace, bowed, and said, “Your Highness, please wait a moment; Miss Xiao will be here shortly.”
Oh, Xie Jing thought to himself, she’s a “Miss.”
A small, exquisite stone table was set with wine and a few snacks, clearly anticipating guests.
Out of politeness, Lu Lingcong and Xie Jing did not sit down but stood side-by-side by the railing while waiting for the host to return.
The terrace was spacious, letting some of the summer heat dissipate and making the noise and laughter from the front courtyard seem more distant.
A cool breeze, carrying coolness, faintly brought a burst of music from the river. Xie Jing leaned in to listen, but it was not an enchanting song suited for the Qiqiao Festival evening but rather a folk song from the Wu region commonly heard everywhere in the streets and alleys:
“The crescent moon shines over the nine provinces; some homes are happy, some are sorrowful—”
A pleasure boat drifted by in the darkness, small but expensive, with a beauty seated at the bow, holding a curved-neck pipa and wearing plum blossom makeup painted between her moth-like eyebrows. She looked dazzlingly beautiful under the lamplight and continued to sing softly: “—How many couples share a silk bed? How many are scattered in other regions?”
When the song finished, the boat had drifted close to the terrace, but she was in no hurry to move at all, simply leaning there with one hand idly resting on the tuning peg, raising her eyes to scrutinize the two people on the bank from head to toe, and then lifting her chin toward Xie Jing: “Is this the legendary Young Master Xie?”
“Quite the look indeed,” she commented, then her gaze lingered between the two of them for a few more rounds before smiling. “And quite a perfect match.”
Xie Jing cleared his throat to ease the awkwardness. Lu Lingcong wanted to offer some explanation, but glancing at Xie Jing’s side, he realized that Xie Jing was wearing a loose, wide-sleeved robe, looking refined and elegant, while he himself was wearing a simple, round-collared light robe, looking unrestrained and stylish, and both were entirely in white; saying it wasn’t intentional didn’t seem very credible at all.
“Sister,” he could only sincerely plead with the beauty who was walking gracefully ashore with the pipa, “Please don’t add to the trouble.”
