When Xie Jing opened his eyes, he found the bed curtains wide open. The thin, blue-brown daylight had already illuminated half of the inner room. The charcoal fire had gone out at some unknown time; it was the chilling, stark, new morning of the New Year.
He was sleeping with his body inward while facing out, resting on Lu Lingcong’s arm. The other party’s arm was draped over the quilt, gathering it around his shoulder, embracing him in sleep.
Both were fully dressed in their sleeping garments. Lu Lingcong hadn’t taken his clothes off the night before; Xie Jing couldn’t quite remember but assumed Lu Lingcong had helped him put his on, fearing he’d catch a chill.
Xie Jing was somewhat annoyed—he hadn’t intended to stay the night here. After the event last night, he mumbled a few words, then gradually grew confused, and only woke up at this hour.
He tried to gently move the weight pressing on him, but Lu Lingcong noticed the movement almost immediately, opened his eyes, and moved his arm away following his action.
Xie Jing brushed his long hair behind one side of his neck before reluctantly crawling out of the quilt, which was made very warm by their two body temperatures, and sat on the bed with his knees hugging for a moment to wake up.
Lu Lingcong’s voice was a bit hoarse, still carrying a hint of sleepiness, as he lay back on the pillow watching him: “You woke up so early?”
“If Ningning wakes up and doesn’t see me, she’ll fuss.”
“I’ll go with you.” Lu Lingcong said, intending to get up. Xie Jing reached out to press him down: “No need, we’ll see each other during the day anyway.”
But he couldn’t press him back. Lu Lingcong had already thrown off the quilt and risen from bed, opened the door to give instructions to someone in the corridor, then returned, picked up the robes piled in the corner, and looked at Xie Jing. “Come down, I’ll attend to your washing and dressing.”
Xie Jing didn’t move: “Look, there are people outside; the maidservants are all up. Going back this way, who knows how many pairs of eyes will be watching?”
Lu Lingcong was slightly amused and said helplessly, “It’s still those two kids from yesterday outside. I won’t go with you then; you can take the red envelope I prepared for the little ancestor back with you later.”
Xie Jing changed his clothes and sat before the dressing table, half-closing his eyes to snatch a brief moment of shallow sleep. Lu Lingcong stood behind him with one hand resting on his shoulder, the other holding a fine-toothed comb, running it through his hair. The force was neither too light nor too heavy but perfectly eased the headache Xie Jing had from lack of sleep.
After combing and tying up his hair, a knock sounded at the door, followed by a tender voice: “Your Highness, the hot water for washing has arrived.”
Xie Jing opened his eyes upon hearing the sound before looking around for a place to temporarily hide, but Lu Lingcong didn’t give him time to hide at all, and said, “Enter.”
The young man who had spoken first last night entered, first placing the bronze basin properly on the stand in the corner. He then looked up, intending to bow, announce his presence, and then retreat, but was then shocked to find that the “Master Wu” they had failed to stop was currently sitting in front of the dressing table, with a lock of his hair still held in the hand of His Highness Prince Zhao.
Xie Jing had no time to avoid him, so he simply met the dumbfounded youth gaze with a “what-the-hell” expression. He hadn’t intended to explain, but looking at the undisguised youthfulness in the boy’s eyes, he couldn’t help but ask, “How old are you?”
The youth unconsciously replied, “Fifteen.” He didn’t realize that the person asking the question was not his rightful master.
Xie Jing was slightly surprised, turned his head to look at Lu Lingcong with his eyes raised, and doubted, “He’s not much older than Qing’er, joining the army so young?”
Lu Lingcong bent down and whispered by his ear: “He and his elder brother are military orphans. They came from their hometown to find me, insisting on joining the army. I kept them as personal guards only, not allowing them on the battlefield.”
Xie Jing was speechless.
Since their reunion, he had never actively spoken to Lu Lingcong about the Tiger Division. This armed force was, after all, built from scratch by Lu Lingcong’s own efforts. Xie Jing neither understood the many intricate details, nor could he comment on them.
Therefore, he had always only remembered that the Tiger Division was invincible and never defeated, but he had never deeply considered that behind every general’s success lay countless sacrifices. How to settle the bereaved families and how much pension and subsidy to give them were all difficult problems Lu Lingcong faced.
Take this pair of brothers for example; rather than calling them Prince Zhao’s “personal guards,” it was more accurate to say that Prince Zhao found an excuse to keep them close to protect and raise them until they grew up.
However, he could protect one family, but not a thousand.
The annual military allowance allocated to the Tiger Division by the imperial court could not be overly generous. The bulk of it naturally had to prioritize grain, fodder, and weapons. After provisioning thirty thousand elite cavalry, it was probably difficult to have much left over.
The remaining shortfall was probably covered by Prince Zhao’s own funds. Xie Jing calculated that this came partly from the Prince’s Mansion and partly from the businesses Lu Lingcong had entrusted to his maternal uncle for turnover.
In youth, he didn’t know the cost of necessities and spent lavishly without reservation. Only when he grew older and more prudent did he realize he should take a significant sum from the Prince’s Mansion’s savings each year and entrust the Wu family to establish businesses and properties as a safeguard.
Xie Jing was fortunate that these accounts were not officially registered under his name; otherwise, they would all have been confiscated when he was stripped of his title and expelled from the mansion back then.
So, he said, “I caused trouble for you all yesterday.”
The youth was startled: “Not trouble. General Li said we were excused from night duty, so my elder brother and I only came this morning.”
Xie Jing smiled: “Letting me in broke the military rules. The two of you handled the official duty correctly and originally deserved a reward.”
Lu Lingcong had said the same thing last night to tease him in bed; although it wasn’t serious, the logic was sounding.
Moreover, seeing this youth who had lost his father early, he couldn’t help but think of Lu Shuqing, who remained alone in Jinling, and felt pity for him.
The youth was flattered and said, “Oh,” then foolishly mumbled, “Thank you,” probably understanding he shouldn’t thank “Master Wu,” but unsure who he should thank.
Lu Lingcong added at the right moment, “From now on, whether in the army or back at the Prince’s Mansion in the capital, the Princess Consort may enter and exit freely; there is no need to stop or announce him. Do not mention today’s matter to anyone else either.”
Hearing this, the youth’s mouth opened wider. He stared blankly at Xie Jing for a long time before reacting and repeatedly said, “Yes.”
The Tiger Division had strict military discipline and forbade spreading rumors. He had only occasionally heard his seniors in the army mention that the Heir Apparent’s birth mother was deposed due to misfortune within his clan, but he had never connected that to a mere advisor at this border of Prefect’s Mansion.
But anything more he said would be presumptuous, so he had to retreat to the outer room to slowly digest the news alone, wondering how to explain this matter to his older brother.
After washing and dressing, Xie Jing left the room, intending to sneak back to the back courtyard while no one was paying attention, but unfortunately, he ran straight into the elderly and light-sleeping He Gao.
The other party was taking a walk in the courtyard during a lull before breakfast. Xie Jing couldn’t ignore him, so he had to bite the bullet and greet him, hoping He Gao hadn’t noticed he’d slipped in through the corner door leading to the guest rooms.
Fortunately, Lord He seemed to have something more important to discuss. As soon as he saw Xie Jing, he quickly waved him over, saying mysteriously, “I’ve gathered a piece of information.”
Xie Jing fully cooperated, adopting an attentive posture: “Please speak, My Lord.”
“Regarding those tens of mu[mfn]Roughly several hectares of land.[/mfn] of desolate land near the Tiger Division camp, Prince Zhao agreed to send soldiers to help cultivate and build defenses at the banquet last night. If they work quickly and luck is good, they can sow seeds this spring.”
The north has much frozen soil and suffers from low rainfall and drought, making arable land inherently scarce. Logically, this barren land outside the city shouldn’t be idle. However, due to its low and open terrain, it is highly vulnerable to enemy attacks. Cultivation requires both labor and military protection, which often leads to losses outweighing the gains, so it had been neglected for years.
Hearing this, Xie Jing said, “This is an excellent plan with far-reaching implications. My Lord should send a few more local garrison soldiers familiar with the terrain outside the city to accompany His Highness, and careful planning is necessary.”
He Gao stroked his mustache profoundly and said, “That’s exactly what I wanted to discuss. Although the garrison soldiers are local to Yongzhou, they are ultimately only experienced but lack cleverness. You, however, have accompanied me on many patrols, are naturally and intimately familiar with these matters. Most importantly, you know how to read people; unlike those clumsy brutes, you can discern His Highness’s intentions.”
Xie Jing was stunned: “My Lord wants me to—”
He Gao nodded: “You will follow His Highness these days and see this matter through to completion.”
Xie Jing was somewhat nonplussed: “All the major and minor affairs in the mansion still have to be handled by me around the New Year. How can I simply drop them like this?”
“No matter how big the matter is, it’s a small thing compared to His Highness Prince Zhao. The steward will naturally handle it. Just go. You don’t even have to worry about your daughter; it’s also a good chance to send her to the Madam for a few days to keep her company and alleviate her boredom.”
Although Lord He’s primary intention was to cherish talent and his main goal was to push this “Master Wu”, who was underutilized by his side, forward to perform well in front of Prince Zhao, ideally earning a chance to return to the capital, there was indeed the underlying meaning in his words—Xie Jing was astute, excellent at observing expressions and understanding nuances. If Lord He could trust anyone in all of Yongzhou to speak alone with Prince Zhao without the risk of causing offense or bad luck, it could only be Xie Jing.
Seeing that He Gao had considered everything thoroughly and unwilling to reject his goodwill, Xie Jing no longer refused, turned, and headed back to his courtyard.
ItIt wasn’t that he was unwilling to take on this task, nor that he didn’t want to be with Lu Lingcong—on the contrary, he was very happy about both. It was just that in the Prefect’s Mansion he had to watch for walls with ears, and outside there were even more people and eyes. If anyone with ulterior motives conducted a thorough investigation, his identity and their relationship would no longer be secret.
The prefect and his wife had no children, and Lu Shuning’s appearance and behavior were endearing, so she was particularly favored by Madam He, who would occasionally call her to her room to chat and instruct the servants not to treat the little girl harshly.
Xie Jing wasn’t worried about her staying with Madam He for a few days, but Lu Shuning herself was reluctant, grumbling that on the first day of the New Year, Grandfather Prefect was so cruel, and whether it was Father or Mother, they should at least leave one of them for her.
Xie Jing was amused and said, “Then you can come along.”
She shook her head like a rattle-drum, saying, no, no, my tongue would freeze off.
He Gao sent words that they would depart in the afternoon. After settling Lu Shuning, Xie Jing hurriedly organized his luggage, intending to wait in the front hall first.
In the past, before going out, he could leave Lu Lingcong waiting while he unhurriedly selected which sash to tie around his waist, but now there was absolutely no reason to make His Highness Prince Zhao wait.
So, when Lu Lingcong rounded the covered walkway, this was the sight he saw—Xie Jing standing alone in front of the courtyard, slender and frail, wearing the outer robe that he had personally taken off him last night. His eyes, due to his lowered gaze, curved into a pair of long, narrow arcs. Only here could the traces that time had imprinted upon him be seen. At least since their reunion, Lu Lingcong had never seen Xie Jing with his eyes wide and round, almost childlike, as they were in his youth—clear and bright like they held water, looking straight into his heart without flinching.
What had happened could not be smoothed over or erased. Xie Jing had clearly adapted to the change in his role more calmly than Lu Lingcong had expected. The carefree Young Master Xie, who once hid behind his father and older brother, had long since become a competent mother and had long accepted the necessary restraint of being a disgraced princess consort who must remain out of sight.
In the final analysis, among those directly affected by this upheaval, he was still the one who couldn’t let go and felt the most lingering resentment on Xie Jing’s behalf.
However, Lu Lingcong believed this was justifiable. Xie Jing was his one and only, his legitimate principal wife to whom he had formally married and whose name was recorded in the family registry. He was justified in holding tightly to his hand for a lifetime.
Looking around, there was no one present. The sound of He Gao and Li Qi talking faintly drifted from the main hall. Lu Lingcong led his horse to a stop, took a bundle of dark woolen material draped over the saddle, and without a word, shook it open and wrapped it directly over Xie Jing’s old robe, which had been washed so much that the cotton batting was nearly gone.
Xie Jing turned around abruptly, caught off guard. Just as he was about to refuse, he noticed the cape seemed familiar. Leaning in, he frowned and whispered:
“Lu Zifeng, isn’t this the one the emperor bestowed on New Year’s Eve that year—”
Lu Lingcong shushed him, interrupting, and said, “They’ve never seen this. If you don’t say anything and I don’t say anything, who will know?”
The cape was old and had long absorbed Lu Lingcong’s scent, growing softer and more form-fitting with wear. Though Xie Jing’s cold resistance had been strengthened by the frontier nights, the rare warmth still felt undeniably comforting.
When he first arrived in Yongzhou, he could hardly sleep at night. Huddling the inn boiler for warmth didn’t stop the shivering, and every bit of money he earned writing for others went to buy clothes to wrap Lu Shuning in.
When he truly couldn’t stand it anymore, he had to swallow his pride and beg the innkeeper for some strong liquor, drink it resolutely, and then feed small sips to his daughter.
Fortunately, Lu Shuning was born with a strong constitution. Relying on the frontier liquor for sustenance, she actually managed to survive the first winter.
Thinking back later, her alcohol tolerance was probably developed back then.
Xie Jing tucked his frayed cuffs into the cape while sighing, “Such a waste, gold on the outside, cotton batting on the inside.”
Lu Lingcong reached out to adjust his collar, smiling lightly with a hint of cunning: “It’s the opposite. The outside is worthless, while the inside is the jade.”
