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The sights and customs at the frontier differ greatly from those in Jinling City, yet the moon above is still the same. For thousands of years, the two places have always echoed each other from afar, illuminating the breaking of correspondence north of the Bailang River, and shining on the long autumn nights south of Danfeng City.
Someone like Xie Jing was perhaps naturally favored by time. Apart from his features becoming more refined, his appearance was fundamentally no different from his youth, and the turmoil of separation had not wasted him in the slightest. Born into a prestigious family in Chenliu, his ancestors achieved great merit, holding an Iron Certificate of perpetual exemption from punishment personally granted by Emperor Taizong. His father, Xie Yi, served as censor-in-chief, and his elder brother was also an important official at court.
From the more than a hundred years of the Qi Dynasty up to today, only a handful of scholars have earned top honors in all three levels of the Imperial Examinations, and Xie Jing was one of them. At the place where names were carved beneath the Ci’en Pagoda, he was the youngest of seventeen.
When the spring light was at its finest, he rode through Jinling City in a cloud-brocade round-collar robe. He never trained in martial arts, yet he mastered all Six Arts[mfn]The Six Arts were the fundamental curriculum of education for the aristocracy in ancient China, particularly during the Zhou Dynasty.[/mfn], and his horsemanship was in no way inferior to Prince Zhao, who rode alongside him. At times he would suddenly pull ahead, then glance back with a faintly teasing smile while waiting for Lu Lingcong to urge his horse forward and close the distance. Beneath the sun, his bright red clothes became a dazzling ribbon of light, exuding a heroic aura that captivated the entire city.
Born without knowing the world’s hardships, he lived in luxury in Chen Commandery, where the Xie family stood as a grand and noble household. Prince Zhao cherished him all the more, wishing he could shelter him in silks and embroidery.
It was precisely because of this that made Lu Lingcong’s heart sink heavily alongside Xie Jing’s knees, when he, Xie Zhiwu, who in the past couldn’t even be bothered to glance at royal descendants and nobles, lowered his posture and bowed deeply without a moment’s hesitation.
He couldn’t bear to see this scene—this Xie Jing overlapped with that silhouette of the person dressed in plain white kneeling long before Shenlong Hall. A single door separated warmth from chill, and in the dead of night, there came that once-in-a-century downpour of Jinling.
Even now, sitting intact across from him, a lingering fear still gripped his heart.
Xie Jing, who had stepped down from the altar and was covered in the dust of the mundane world, was not sensitive to these feelings. Hearing the words “cost me ten years of my lifespan,” he merely paused, his gaze flickering slightly, and then said dismissively, “Say that less often from now on.”
He lifted the wooden basin and headed into the courtyard. Lu Lingcong walked after him. They each grabbed one end of the washed clothing and pulled hard in opposite directions to squeeze out the water, then they shook it out and hung it up to dry.
From his side of the drying line, Xie Jing asked, “How is Qing’er?”
There was a moment of silence from Lu Lingcong’s side before he said, “With Grand Tutor Zhang teaching him, you can rest assured.”
Xie Jing lifted the sheet that was hanging between him and Lu Lingcong and gave the person from the opposite side a deep, unreadable look: “Didn’t the teacher say long ago that he was retiring? Why is he still so eagerly taking care of your Lu family’s child?”
The sheet was let down with a “whoosh” and swayed intermittently in the cold wind.
Lu Lingcong walked around to Xie Jing’s side and helped him tie an outer robe onto the rope: “After all, you are his best student, and Qing’er is your beloved son. Even if the old gentleman dislikes me, there’s no reason for him to stand by and do nothing either.”
Xie Jing turned his face, scrutinized Lu Lingcong from top to bottom, then walked to the other end. When he spoke, it was unclear whether his tone or the night was colder: “Is this how Your Highness Prince Zhao is as a father?”
He could deceive the heavens and the earth, but not Xie Jing. Lu Lingcong knew he was in the wrong and struggled to explain: “The war is pressing; I… haven’t returned to the capital for four months already.”
Xie Jing moved along the row of wet clothes that were hung up, smoothing and stretching each piece as he went, and asked seemingly casually, “I have yet to ask Your Highness, which young lady is the current mistress of Prince Zhao’s Mansion.”
Having been subjected to ten years of sharp instruction, His Highness Prince Zhao immediately understood the source of the chill. He walked after Xie Jing and stopped at the far end of the drying line. With one hand he pushed aside the clothes between them, and with the other he brought out the jade disc he had been keeping against his chest and held it out to Xie Jing. “Even a thousand pieces of gold is too little; what’s priceless is what matters[mfn]It emphasizes that the person being spoken of is priceless, far beyond any material wealth.[/mfn].”
The pair of white jade disc were made of the finest material, but the carving was merely passable. An expert would likely stomp their foot upon seeing it, lamenting that it was “wasted,” but the event at the time was sudden, and there was no time for Xie Jing to refine the carving.
That year, when he hurriedly pressed this half-finished piece into Lu Lingcong’s hand and whispered, “When you see this jade disc, it is as if you see me,” in the intervals of their almost frantic long kiss, Xie Jing was resolved that he would leave and never return.
Now confronted with it so abruptly, he stared at the beautiful yet flawed jade, then lifted his gaze to Lu Lingcong, who looked unusually serious. He was stunned for a moment and suddenly regretted the slip of the tongue.
He could deceive enemies and himself, but not Lu Lingcong. Upon suddenly seeing his old friend, the string that had been taut in Xie Jing’s mind for three years instantly relaxed, and his old frank and outspoken temper resurfaced. He momentarily forgot that the three-year period of national mourning had not yet ended, and Prince Zhao could not marry any young lady.
By the time all the trivial matters were taken care of, and Lu Shuning was soundly asleep, Xie Jing wiped his hands on his garment hem and pushed open the door to the room next to the side chamber. He Gao was unaware of his true identity, and even more so that Shuning was actually his own child. He merely treated them as father and daughter, and seeing that the girl was getting older, he feared it would be inconvenient for her to sleep with her father, so he specifically instructed the steward to allocate two spacious rooms for their accommodation.
However, on the road when they fled the capital and went into exile that year, Lu Shuning had a persistent high fever for several days, leaving her with a root cause for nightmares. Xie Jing was not at ease leaving her alone, so he used the other room as a study and still shared a bed with his daughter at night.
He stepped into the room, and as he heard nothing from the courtyard behind him, he turned halfway back, and asked in confusion, “You’re not heading back yet?”
Lu Lingcong opened his mouth, but instead of answering, he counters questioned, “You’re not sleeping yet?”
Xie Jing said, “Some accounts haven’t been reconciled yet.”
Lu Lingcong was startled upon hearing this. After recovering, he found that Xie Jing had already flashed into the room. He quickly strode up the steps, turned around, and firmly closed the door. Looking up, he saw the messy desk piled high with old papers and yellowed account books.
Seeing his heavy gaze, Xie Jing found it amusing and intentionally teased, “Are you worried I don’t know how to check income or use an abacus? Your Highness worries too much. I learned from Uncle Zhou when I first entered the Prince’s Mansion.”
Uncle Zhou, the steward of Prince Zhao’s Mansion, was brought out of the palace when Lu Lingcong was enfeoffed as a prince and established his household at fifteen. He was fiercely loyal and highly respected throughout the mansion, and Xie Jing had always treated him with respect due to the fact that he was an elder.
Although he had learned to manage household affairs, wealth poured into the Prince’s Mansion from many sources including offerings from noble families both inside and outside the capital, subsidies from Consort Wu’s family, as well as the properties he inherited from the Xie family. All day long, he only saw income but no expenditure, and over time, he gradually let go of all the calculations.
Lu Lingcong furrowed his brow slightly: “I never saw you touch these things.”
Xie Jing laughed out loud: “Your Highness was busy avoiding me back then, where would you have seen it?”
Because the late Emperor had decreed their marriage, Lu Lingcong always felt some resentment before their eldest son was born, but he could not refuse the arrangement. On the surface, they treated each other with respect, but in private, he subjected Xie Jing to countless embarrassments. Xie Jing was temperamental and held grudges, often recalling these past grievances to frustrate Lu Lingcong.
He leaned sideways against the desk while glaring at Lu Lingcong. He didn’t wait for the other party to humble himself and try to coax him with sweet words as in the past. Instead, he saw His Highness Prince Zhao take a few steps forward, looking straight at him with complex emotions in his eyes, his lips tightly sealed without saying a word.
After a long pause, he stared at Xie Jing until the latter felt slightly unsettled, thinking his teasing had gone too far. He leaned forward slightly, putting on the submissive expression that belonged to “Wu Zhi,” and said, “I won’t be harsh on you anymore; go back early.”
Lu Lingcong’s expression suddenly relaxed. He twitched the corner of his mouth with some bitterness and muttered, “That one just now was the real you; now it isn’t anymore.”
The Xie Jing in his memory was still the Princess Consort Zhao, who was arrogant and unrestrained in his talent. Every small change that had occurred to him over the past three years, and every event he thought would never be associated with him, was pervasively stimulating Lu Lingcong, making him afraid to imagine how the proud spirit he once cherished and willingly indulged had been forcibly crushed into this state.
Xie Jing was stunned. A moment later, he grasped his meaning. He raised his hand and gently patted Lu Lingcong’s elbow: “Our children are growing up every day. If I still held onto my youthful temper, wouldn’t people find it ridiculous?”
Seeing that Lu Lingcong only furrowed his brow, his expression still troubled, Xie Jing softened his voice even more and, with a familiar, comforting tenderness, gently called Lu Lingcong by his courtesy name: “Zifeng.”
The breath swept across his cheek, soft as a whisper on a pillow.
The sight of those two characters seemed to stir something in Lu Lingcong. He flipped his forearm, firmly grasped Xie Jing’s hand resting on his elbow, pulled him closer in a half-embrace, and lifted him up. In an instant, the world spun around; he had pressed him down completely onto the desk with account books, brushes, and inkstones scattered to the floor, making quite a noise.
Xie Jing panicked and urged, “Don’t be reckless, the people next door can hear us!”
In the past at the Prince’s Mansion, the large bedroom, draped with multiple layers of thick curtains, let them indulge for half the night, while the maids would still enter the next morning with their cheeks flushed, to serve them without daring to glance twice. While this side room in the modest border, Prefect’s Mansion offered almost no soundproofing between the two rooms.
Lu Lingcong, however, said seriously, “I’m not being reckless. When have I ever roughed you up in bed?”
He suddenly lowered his body after saying this, only stopping an inch above Xie Jing’s lips. He seemed poised to kiss him but suddenly he hesitated. Instead, he pressed against the back of Xie Jing’s earlobe and gently brushed it with the tip of his nose. Xie Jing felt the tickle and instinctively turned his head to the other side, which ironically gave Lu Lingcong space to bury half his face in his neck hollow.
“It has not changed at all,” Lu Lingcong sighed deeply. “The same goes for that outer robe, it’s the exact same scent as you had before.”
Xie Jing remembered that Lu Lingcong loved to hold him this way back then, especially in the cold winter. On days off, when he didn’t have to attend court, the room would carry a faint, warm fragrance. He would hold him from behind or in front while resting his chin on his neck and shoulder, breathing in his scent. If Xie Jing didn’t move, he could happily hug him like that all day long.
“Loosen your grip.” Xie Jing’s wrist was painfully clamped. He struggled uncomfortably twice, so Lu Lingcong eased his grip and instead slid his bent arm under Xie Jing’s neck for support. With his other hand, he pushed aside Xie Jing’s collar, laid his palm over the thin undershirt, and traced swirling patterns across the skin of his chest with his fingers. In the past, when stripping Xie Jing out of his silk sleeping robe during lovemaking, he hadn’t thought his skin was particularly special. It was only now, against the rough fabric, did he realize how rare and delicate that white-jade-spring-water-like touch truly was.
…
