In the fourth year of Jingyu, on the seventh day of the first lunar month, at Mingluan Hall in Taichu Palace, Jinling.
A woman, around twenty, perched on the veranda railing, dressed in a crimson uniform. Her long hair was tied high, her features both striking and elegant, yet her expression was one of boredom. In her hands, she held a broken plum branch as a weapon, idly sparring with it, alternating between her left and right hands.
Lu Shuqing, the heir apparent of Prince Zhao, came around the screen wall behind the palace gate, draped in an indigo cloak, with a Hetian jade longevity lock hanging around his neck. He walked straight to the woman, paid his respects, and called out, “Aunt.”
The Eldest Princess, Lu Lingzhen, did not answer but suddenly switched the defensive stance of the hand holding the plum branch to an offense, abruptly striking towards Lu Shuqing’s face with a speed difficult to discern with the naked eye.
The latter’s expression tightened; he quickly drew out the folding fan hanging at his waist, grasped the fan ribs upside down to meet the attack, but the plum branch was nimble and elusive, and though fragile and easily broken, it was able to freely weave through the hard fan ribs.
After going through about ten moves, Lu Shuqing, still just a half-grown youth, lacked the strength to continue. With a “snap,” the joint at the base of the folding fan gave way, and the ivory-carved ribs of the fan tumbled to the ground in disarray.
Lu Lingzhen smiled, “Do you know what this round is called?”
Lu Shuqing answered steadily: “Conquering the hard with the soft.”
Lu Lingzhen hummed, seeming somewhat satisfied: “There’s a little improvement.”
Saying this, she plucked the solitary white plum blossom from the branch tip, discarded the dead branch, and said, “Sit.”
Lu Shuqing squatted down, tidied up the broken ivory ribs, and put them back into the fan pouch, then walked over and sat down beside Lu Lingzhen.
“Has Grandmother not woken up from her nap yet?”
“It’s cold,” Lu Lingzhen said casually. “Getting old, one tends to sleep more. Did you come from the Imperial Academy?”
“En. Classes just finished.”
Lu Lingzhen heard his tone seem a bit listless, turned her face, and asked, “What’s wrong? Did Lao Zhang scold you?”
Lu Shuqing shook his head: “No. Grand Tutor Zhang never scolds me.”
“True though,” Lu Lingzhen muttered resentfully, “looking at that face of yours, who would be willing to speak harshly to you?”
Then she asked again, “Then why? Tell me, what are you afraid of with me? Your worries are all written on your face.”
Lu Shuqing suddenly smiled and said, “Father also used to say that about Mother, that he couldn’t hide things in his heart, they were all written on his face.”
Lu Lingzhen scoffed: “That was only with your father; he wouldn’t conceal it from him. But with outsiders, just look at him, he seems to want to wear one expression, speak another, and keep a third locked in his heart.”
“Indeed,” Lu Shuqing shrugged, “I’m actually like this because today… I unintentionally overheard some words.”
He then seriously explained, “I know it’s wrong to eavesdrop.”
Lu Lingzhen wrapped an arm around his shoulder, both amused and exasperated: “Go on, good child, just kowtow three times to Confucius when you go back, and that will be that.”
“Two classmates were saying that if not for me, my maternal grandfather’s family might not have met with that calamity back then.”
Lu Lingzhen was taken aback, having neither expected him to say such a thing nor imagined that such words would come from the mouths of students of the Imperial Academy.
She said, “Which one of them isn’t afraid of losing their head to say such nonsense?”
Lu Shuqing raised his eyes and looked at her: “Their wording was obscure; it was because it concerned me so closely that I managed to figure it out.”
Lu Lingzhen turned around and cupped his small face. Lu Shuqing had a bit of baby fat remaining on his cheeks, and his fair skin would easily show a red mark if pressed slightly, yet he stared calmly, his gaze not like that of a peaceful and well-behaved child at all.
“So, you are troubled by these words? Do you think what they said is true?”
Lu Shuqing was only nine when the Xie family met with disaster, and having grown up in the deep mansion, personally educated hand-in-hand by Prince Zhao and the Princess Consort, he had never attended a private school or academy, nor had he had classmates, so he was unaware that his family had always been a topic of discussion for outsiders.
In the three years since, without the constant protection of his parents, following Grand Tutor Zhang among the officials and scholars, and with Lu Lingzhen taking him out to play every now and then, he finally had the opportunity to meet all sorts of people.
Lu Shuqing was not without having heard rumors and veiled insults concerning him or his family, but he had always listened more and spoken less; although his father occasionally teased him for being too quiet, like a silent gourd, he never forced him to change this nature. After all, trouble comes from the mouth, and this was even more true when constantly moving within the palace walls.
Regarding the events of that year, the only thing he firmly believed and could confirm was one thing—his maternal grandfather’s family bore a fabricated crime and died unjustly. He was completely unaware of the other details, including his parents’ calculations and considerations and the “why” that he couldn’t figure out.
The Prince’s Mansion and the Xie family had always been very close during the Zhengyou years; Lu Shuqing spent a lot of time in that four-courtyard-deep mansion in Wuyi Lane, and his name was even given to him by his maternal grandfather. Even though no one dared to mention the criminal Xie clan after the current emperor ascended the throne, Lu Shuqing was clear-minded and understood all too well how respectful, principled, and utterly devoted to the country his maternal grandfather and uncle were.
What mattered was not whether they harbored disloyal intentions, but that even if they did, as powerless censors, they had no ability to cause any serious upheaval.
So why did it happen in the end? The charge lays in “a desire to impose,” but where, after all, did that desire itself come from?
Lu Shuqing had to admit that the words of those two classmates today gave him a new idea.
No matter how young and gentle he was, Lu Shuqing had long been shaped by his tactful father and keen-minded mother; he could tell whether others treated him with kindness or malice, sincerity or pretense.
Therefore, Lu Shuqing had always known that his paternal grandfather—the late emperor who passed away three years ago—favored, treated, and valued him far more than he did his own father, and almost even more than he did his legitimate uncle.
This was a publicly known, unspoken, and universally accepted fact in the capital back then. Even though the relationship between Lu Lingcong and the late Emperor was distant and tense, and Xie Jing was certainly not a compliant Princess Consort who pleased the Imperial Family, Lu Shuqing consistently enjoyed more excessive doting and affection than a young child should have received.
All this began on the day Lu Shuqing was born. He was not born at full term, nor was he born in the Prince’s Mansion like his younger sister; whether by fate or human intervention, by chance, his mother gave birth to him in the Jiuhua Hall, a palace that had been vacant for a long time.
Since the founding of the nation, a total of two emperors had been born in Jiuhua Hall: one was Emperor Gaozong, who established the foundation for a peaceful reign, and the other was his paternal grandfather.
Lu Shuqing speculated that his grandfather’s initial favor toward him might have stemmed from this subtle coincidence. He was born during Yinshi[mfn]3-5 AM.[/mfn], with red clouds filling the sky at dawn, the clouds parting, and the wind stilling, and it was an auspicious day suitable for all endeavors; coupled with his identity as the Emperor’s eldest grandson and the legitimate eldest son of Prince Zhao, it clearly showcased his noble status and lucky disposition to the world.
And he himself was also remarkably promising. When he was one year old and went through the traditional “grasping objects” ceremony, his grandfather casually untied a leisure seal and dropped it on the table nearby; according to his mother, he seemed to have innate skill, quickly, accurately, and steadily picking out the seal directly from a table full of dazzling objects while giggling and gnawing on it, which greatly pleased the emperor.
Later, as he grew older, his temperament was well-behaved and gentle, educated and polite, making him inherently likable; most importantly, he had studied martial arts with his father since childhood, which catered to the late emperor’s preferences, and thus he was even more spoiled and doted upon, his prominence already completely overshadowing his father’s generation.
Up until the last few years before the disaster struck, when the storm was brewing, there were indeed many rumors inside and outside the capital that the emperor might pass the throne to Prince Zhao due to his favor towards his imperial grandson, or even skip the generation and pass the throne directly to the imperial grandson.
That is to say, no matter which of the above scenarios occurred, the nation would eventually fall into his hands one day, and his birth mother, who was exclusively favored by his father, just as he was by his grandfather, should have been second only to one person and above ten thousand, with his maternal Xie family naturally sharing in his glory and reaching the pinnacle of officialdom.
But in the past, people only ever spoke of the “mother gaining honor because of his son’s status.”
Hearing those rumors today, Lu Shuqing suddenly thought of “the son’s nobility causing the mother’s death.”
The iron scroll with the cinnabar inscription, commonly known as the death-exempting gold tablet, that had been enshrined in the main hall of the Xie family’s old residence for a hundred years, was granted by Emperor Taizong himself because of their ancestor’s merit in founding the nation.
Although, under a decree for the execution of the entire family, whether the death-exempting gold tablet was useful and for whom it was used was merely a word from the ruler, the result was that Princess Consort Zhao—only he alone—was not taken to the execution ground because of “his merit in giving birth to the Imperial Grandson” combined with the protection of the iron scroll.
On the day the Xie family was executed, Lu Shuqing was locked at home, anxiously waiting with his younger sister, from dawn until the third watch of Wushi[mfn]3 PM.[/mfn], and then until the deep watches of the night with heavy dew, but the heavy rain never stopped. It was not until midnight that his father carried his bloodless, feverishly hot mother back to the Prince’s Mansion, and yet before he had even awakened, he left in haste, riding out of the city that very same night to mobilize the troops.
He was gone for several months then.
No child could accept their parents suddenly reaching such a state of abruptly changing from being deeply affectionate to being incompatible due to life and death.
Xie Jing was exempted from the death penalty but could not escape the living punishment; he was personally deposed by Lu Lingcong, announced to the world, and exiled from Jinling.
The fever would not subside, and with heart palpitations and constant nightmares, Xie Jing lay ill in bed for a full month before he was finally able to get up. During this time, the people sent by the palace to drive him out were repeatedly blocked by the Prince’s Mansion’s guards, and when the standoff reached a critical point, Xie Jing got out of bed, took simple luggage, held Lu Shuning, and walked out of Prince Zhao’s Mansion step by step by himself.
That was the last time Lu Shuqing saw them.
Lu Lingcong returned to the capital almost half a year later. In Lu Shuqing’s eyes, his father was always smiling and amiable, playing the gentle mediator while his mother took the stern role, appearing open and honest, and indulging him and his sister to an almost excessive degree.
It wasn’t until much later that Lu Shuqing understood; if his father hadn’t left that night, his mother might not have been able to stay in the Prince’s Mansion to recover for even that one month of illness, and the further his father went, the more ruthless he appeared in “abandoning” his disgraced Princess Consort, the safer his mother’s journey out of the capital would be.
But his father never said anything from beginning to end; Lu Shuqing only saw the study lamp lit all night.
“It may not necessarily be true, I just think,” Lu Shuqing fiddled with the tassel in front of his lapel while murmuring, “If I hadn’t pleased Grandfather, or if my mother hadn’t given birth to me at all, it wouldn’t have pushed my maternal grandfather’s family into such a precarious position.”
Lu Lingzhen and Lu Shuqing were not very similar—they both took after their respective mothers—but being direct aunt and nephew, there were still several resemblances in their mannerisms.
“Do you truly believe that when your mother bore you, carefully nurtured you, watched you rise in favor before the Emperor Father, and heard the rumors spreading through the streets, he never once weighed the consequences in his heart?”
Lu Shuqing nodded softly: “I know he must have thought about it, but even if he did, he wouldn’t change anything either—at least he wouldn’t let me change anything.”
Lu Lingzhen followed his words: “He wouldn’t let you change anything because, in his eyes, none of that was as important as you.”
“In front of you, all his calculations and schemes don’t count.”
Lu Shuqing was stunned for a moment, bit his lower lip, and looked at her.
“Tell Aunt the truth, did you persuade him to leave with Shuning back then?”
Lu Shuqing remained silent, giving his tacit consent. He was truly terrified back then; his father was far away, his maternal grandfather’s family had suffered a tragedy, and he didn’t even know if Prince Zhao’s Mansion would meet the same fate one day. At that time, Jinling was not the native land where he grew up but a man-eating, bloody cage to him; he actually really wanted to follow his mother and escape far away from the capital, but he couldn’t.
Remaining here, even after the late emperor’s death and the transfer of the throne to his uncle, and despite his status as the emperor’s eldest grandson losing all meaning, he was still the Heir Apparent of Prince Zhao. His father’s unauthorized mobilization of troops was already a taboo act; if he also left, not only would his grandmother and aunt find themselves in a difficult position, but Prince Zhao’s Mansion would have no way to stand firm in Jinling anymore.
So, when he and his mother were sitting in front of the veranda under the setting sun watching Lu Shuning chase shadows lightheartedly, Lu Shuqing suddenly spoke, begging his mother to leave with his sister.
Leaving was also a way to survive, and if the living must return, there will always be a day to meet again.
“Indeed, at that critical moment, dividing the family was the best way to protect one another, but just as your mother would not allow any change, if you had truly said you wanted to go with him and refuse to be separated, he would certainly have agreed.”
Lu Lingzhen looked at the somewhat speechless Lu Shuqing, and pity showed in her eyes: “Qing’er, tormenting oneself is the cruelest torment; you fret too deeply—being too much like Imperial Sister-in-law is no easy thing.”
She turned back to look inside the hall; it was still quiet, and Lady Wu had not yet woken up. Lu Lingzhen stood up and patted Lu Shuqing’s shoulder:
“If Grandmother sees you looking like this later, she’ll worry too. Forget it, come with me out of the palace today; let’s go to the Hewei for some air.”
When Lu Lingcong left the capital back then, he openly took the private army he had raised but secretly left over a thousand able-bodied soldiers for Lu Lingzhen’s self-protection and also asked the Xuanshi to lend a helping hand. Lu Lingzhen gradually fostered this unit of secret guards, naming them the Hewei, with the Tiger Division in the open and the Hewei in the dark; this was one of the reasons Lu Lingcong dared to leave Lu Shuqing in the capital.
Lu Shuqing also stood up, walked two steps behind her, and suddenly called out, “Aunt.”
Lu Lingzhen stopped, looking back from the courtyard: “What is it?”
“My mother will come back, right?”
Lu Lingzhen smiled brightly as she pulled him closer and said gently:
“You just have to remember one thing, no matter how much your grandfather valued you back then, it’s not even one ten-thousandth of how much your mother treasures you.”
The author has something to say:
Regarding the timeline:
The old emperor used two reign titles, Jianning and Zhengyou. Lu Lingcong and Xie Jing were both born in the Jianning era, married and had children during the Zhengyou era, which lasted seventeen years, and their relationship fell apart at the end of its seventeenth year. Then Lu Lingzhang ascended the throne and changed the era name to Jingyu; so, the current timeline is the first month of the fourth year of Jingyu.
