Prince Zhao’s Mansion was originally the old mansion of a former duke in the previous dynasty. With its population dwindling, it had been sealed for several years until Lu Lingcong was fifteen and left the palace, allowing it to see the light of day again.
Because he was backed by a wealthy maternal family like the Wu clan, every aspect of the construction; from renovation to repairs, was carried out by the finest craftsmen, and the residence even featured a garden rivaling the renowned ones of Jiangnan. By the time it was finished, it had taken on an entirely new appearance.
Although it too stood in the central district of the capital—along the Qinhuai River, where scholars gathered and common folk sought leisure, Prince Zhao’s Mansion was nothing like Wuyi Lane that enclave closed to outsiders with its uniform pink walls and dark tiles, tightly shut gates, and deep, multi-courtyard residences housing the great official families.
The location of Prince Zhao’s Mansion was like a great hermit hidden in the city; the main gate opened directly onto the street without avoidance. On ordinary days, the streets were bustling with traffic and lined with countless merchants. As autumn deepened, the roadside pomegranates and persimmons had ripened, hanging from the branches like clusters of crimson lanterns. The tall, straight ginkgo trees glowed golden in the sunlight, forming a splendid and striking scene.
Lu Lingcong had taken Lu Lingzhen back to the palace in the afternoon. He was delayed for unknown reasons and sent word back saying they shouldn’t wait for him for dinner.
However, later that same afternoon, Xie Yan and Lady Yao arrived to visit Xie Jing with Xie Jun following along. As a result, the dinner table that had been set for fewer people now needed two additional dishes.
This was not an ordinary day off, so Xie Jing was somewhat surprised that his usually busy elder brother had come by. After asking more closely, he heard Xie Yan say, “I’ve just returned from the Zhu family residence and happened to run into your sister-in-law and Jun’er on their way here. I thought I might as well come along and pass on a few words as a reminder to you and His Highness.”
Xie Jing had been staying home to enjoy his leisure, blissfully unconcerned with the outside world, and seldom spoke with Lu Lingcong about developments at court. So he asked, “What did you go to the Zhu family for?”
“To visit the sick,” Xie Yan replied. “Zhu Zhen, Commander of the Western Grand Camp, suffered a recurrence of an old injury a few days ago. Word came out this afternoon that his condition is feared to be deteriorating, and he is likely down to the next day or two.”
Zhu Zhen came from the Zhu clan, one of the Four Great Clans of Wu Commandery. He was around fifty or sixty years of age, and Li Qi’s brother-in-law served under his command.
Within Jinling City, aside from the Yulin Guards who defended the palace, there were also the Capital Garrison forces of the four grand camps: East, West, North, and South. Each camp had three principal officials; the commander of the central army, the protector of the central army, and the Inspector of the central army, who were respectively responsible for troop deployment, personnel selection, and military oversight. Of these three posts, the commander stood at the top. Though ranked only as a third-grade position, it was one of immense importance.
And Zhu Zhen being critically ill meant that the highest command position of the Western Grand Camp, an armed force of over ten thousand men, was about to become vacant.
Li Qi’s brother-in-law was only a unit commander, with ranks such as commandant and chief secretary still above him, so naturally the post would never fall to him.
However, quite a number of eyes from the various great families and clans, both within the court and beyond it, were fixed upon this position.
Xie Jing pondered for a moment, “Zhu Zhen followed Grand Commandant Cui to garrison troops in Hedong Commandery in his early years. The court tacitly regards him as a direct line of the Grand Commandant’s Mansion, right? Now that he is ‘not doing well,’ the Grand Commandant’s Mansion naturally hopes the next commander will still be one of their own.”
Xie Yan nodded, “Cui Xian has aged in recent years and has gradually been distanced from the center of military affairs. His sons were still young, and there was no clear successor to carry on, so the Cui family would likely not easily relinquish the influence left behind by those former subordinates. However, I heard people discussing privately today that the Right Prime Minister’s side is also plotting for this position.”
Xie Jing was puzzled, “The Right Prime Minister? Doesn’t the Wang clan always pride itself on being a family of civil officials, skilled in laws and decrees? When did they start extending their reach into the military as well? Furthermore, wasn’t Grand Commandant Cui’s eldest legitimate daughter promised to Prime Minister Wang’s second son?”
“It is precisely because of this relationship that it is inconvenient to openly fight for it, so they have to use a third party,” Xie Yan said. “Zhu Zhen’s adjutant is named Wu Hong, who is a relative of His Highness Prince Zhao’s maternal family. This is why I came. If His Highness can avoid it these next few days, it would be best not to go to the restricted area of the palace, lest he run into a troublesome situation and have to waste words.”
Xie Jing immediately understood Xie Yan’s intention. The Wu family’s roots in the court were far from comparable to those of the Cui, Zhu, and Wang clans. If this Wu Hong were to be pushed forward as a cover for the conflict between the Cui and Wang clans, no matter how he responded, it would inevitably be misinterpreted as being authorized by the Noble Consort and Prince Zhao’s Mansion.
“It’s too late,” he sighed, knowing that Lu Lingcong had likely been delayed by this matter. “He took the Eldest Princess back to the palace afternoon.”
Xie Yan was startled and also helpless. He offered reassurance, “Yet for a retainer to succeed his deceased lord is an ancient and time-honored custom. Surely His Majesty will understand and will not make matters overly difficult for Your Highness.”
Xie Jing was silent for a moment, then suddenly looked at Xie Yan, “If there is ever any debate in court hereafter, Brother, you must remember never to speak in support of Prince Zhao’s Mansion.”
Xie Yan, however, shook his head with a wry smile, “Zhiwu, I know you fear bringing disaster upon the family, but the present time is neither the founding of a new dynasty, when we are desperately needed to pacify the realm, nor an hour of peril requiring able men to shore up a collapsing state. Though the sons, nephews, and disciples of the Xie clan are scattered throughout the court, they are by no means indispensable. If our family were truly to become a thorn in someone’s side, and they seized upon grounds sufficient to ruin us before reporting it to His Majesty, the Emperor would not necessarily, for the sake of ‘stabilizing the court,’ feel bound to punish only one man while sparing the rest of the clan.”
As soon as he said this, even Lady Yao, who had been playing with Xie Jun and Lu Ai nearby, turned their heads and looked at him with a slight surprise.
Xie Jing opened his mouth and murmured, “Our family… doesn’t have such a weakness, right?”
“Indeed, we don’t,” Xie Yan first shook his head definitively, but then added softly, “But is a common man guilty merely for possessing jade[mfn]Having something valuable or precious can bring trouble, but possessing it isn’t inherently wrong.[/mfn]?”
Lady Yao gently nudged Xie Jun’s shoulder. The latter obediently trotted off to look at the pond in the courtyard. She turned back and asked the two brothers, “It’s not that frightening… is it? If His Majesty truly had any apprehension about our family, why would he assign Zhiwu to His Highness Prince Zhao?”
Xie Yan looked up and asked her, “Have you ever fought crickets?”
Lady Yao frowned, “Huh?”
Xie Yan smiled slightly and slowly said, “This city of Jinling is a cricket jar cradled in His Majesty’s palm. Prince Zhao and the Second Prince are the two crickets within it, while our family, Linhan Hall, and the great aristocratic houses are but the fish, shrimp, and loaches fed to them. In ten years, or perhaps eight, once the crickets are fully grown, the lid will be shut and they will be set against each other. Not even His Majesty himself knows which one will emerge victorious.”
Xie Jing and Lady Yao exchanged worried glances, both looking solemn.
Lady Yao said, “You mean he’s sitting on the mountain watching the tigers fight, and whoever wins the fight inherits the throne, and he himself… doesn’t care at all?”
Xie Yan said, “In the half year since Zhiwu married, especially after he became pregnant, I have been watching the movements within the palace. The emperor’s attitude toward the princes, their maternal families, and the officials of the court all gives the impression that he is standing apart, observing everything with cold detachment.”
“He is quietly watching as Prince Zhao and the Second Prince each continue to place more chips on their respective sides. For instance, Prince Zhao’s Mansion now has an heir, which counts as one chip for that side. If, this time, the new commander of the Western Grand Camp can be appointed from the Wang family, that too will count as one chip for the other side.”
Silence settled over the hall for a moment. After a long while, Xie Jing spoke faintly: “If His Majesty wishes to remain the sole spectator and hand guiding the game, then he cannot permit a second faction to stand outside the board. That is why he drove the Xie family into the arena in so simple and crude a fashion, by directly decreeing a marriage between Prince Zhao and me.”
Lady Yao took a breath and answered her own question from earlier, “It’s because His Majesty couldn’t fathom our family’s intentions that Zhiwu became today’s Princess Consort Zhao.”
Xie Yan nodded, “We have no choice but to advance and retreat with Prince Zhao’s Mansion. This is what His Majesty wants to see.”
The night had grown deep, and the dew lay heavy. The ginkgo trees were shrouded in the light spilling from the shopfronts along the street, the strained pale yellow carrying a faintly bleak cast.
Lu Lingcong walked along the base of the outer wall of Prince Zhao’s Mansion. He had already dismissed the carriage, Yi Yun, and the attendants earlier. With nothing to occupy him and no particular destination in mind, he made his way back alone at a slow, wandering pace.
In the afternoon, when he had been escorting Lu Lingzhen, he was stopped at the palace gate by Zhong Zhao, who said that His Majesty had a few questions to ask. Only now had that matter finally concluded.
Originally, Lady Wu wanted him to stay in the palace for dinner, but it was already late. Lu Lingcong had neither the appetite nor the mood. He stopped at a small shop that was still open, quickly finished a bowl of noodles, and drank a couple of liang of wine.
In the Imperial Study today, Grand Commandant Cui and Prime Minister Wang had worked in seamless coordination, jointly impeaching his cousin Wu Hong, whom he had not even met on many occasions. They claimed Wu Hong disregarded his commanding official’s grave illness and was solely focused on scrambling for promotion. Lu Lingcong almost wanted to laugh, wondering what kind of unforgivable heinous crime the minor adjutant Wu Hong had committed that warranted such intense accusations from great figures like Grand Commandant Cui and Prime Minister Wang, whose official ranks were far superior to his.
But Lu Lingcong could not laugh. The reason he had been present in the Imperial Study was precisely because his Emperor Father also understood that Grand Commandant Cui and Prime Minister Wang’s move was absurd and unusual, and suspected that the two were in fact making veiled accusations against someone else. And who else, lurking behind the mulberry tree as the locust, could the “Wu” clan refer to, if not him?
The underlying intention of Cui Xian and Wang Shu was perhaps this: whoever could, in an objective and impartial manner, share the emperor’s burden in handling this so-called “case of a prince coveting the military authority of the capital region,” would naturally earn the chance to propose, “This minister happens to know a suitable talent for this position.”
And even if he had seen through it all, he could not say a word. He could only kneel beneath the hall, deferential and uneasy, and softly plead for Wu Hong’s innocence. This was exactly the outcome the two people intended to see: a matter of personnel change that should have had nothing to do with him, yet the moment he spoke up in defense, it would be forcibly bound to Prince Zhao’s Mansion, becoming inseparable from it.
Lu Lingcong didn’t particularly want to go home, but he also had nowhere else to go.
He had experienced too many instances like today, where he was unfairly dragged into trouble, ever since he was a child. He never let Noble Consort Wu or Lu Lingzhen know, and he rarely sought anyone to share the burden with.
The usual way he dealt with it was either to ride out of the city and gallop until he was exhausted, or, if that failed, to shut himself in his room and sleep through an entire day. He would sort it out on his own and then let it pass.
But now that Xie Jing was at home, he couldn’t help but consider him.
Since Xie Jing’s pregnancy had advanced, he couldn’t easily sleep without Lu Lingcong nearby. Whether it was being thirsty, waking up at night, or having a calf cramp, it was inconvenient to call a maid, and he needed Lu Lingcong to be there to look after him at all times.
Lu Lingcong walked unsteadily with his head bowed to the front gate of the Prince’s Mansion. Beams of blue-gray light fell upon the stone bricks, and dust swirled, rose, and hung suspended in this solitary brightness.
He could not bring himself to say that Jinling, and the Prince’s Mansion beneath all its polished grandeur, were not as bright and dazzling as Xie Jing liked to believe.
In fact, the fundamental color of the Stone City was originally this way. It was revered as the imperial capital for generations due to its majestic, dragon-and-tiger-like imperial aura. Everyone who came and went within it was an ambitious person, skilled in managing state affairs. But the stark white bones suppressed beneath that imperial aura would not be seen unless the surrounding walls were completely torn down.
Lu Lingcong planned to wait for the smell of wine to dissipate before returning to the room. However, as he stepped onto the last stair, turned to gather his robe, and was just about to sit down, he suddenly lifted his head and, from the corner of his eye, caught sight of a solitary, slender figure standing beneath the plaque inscribed with the gilded characters “Prince Zhao’s Mansion.”
He nearly doubted his own eyes, but after focusing and looking closely, he confirmed it was Xie Jing, wrapped in a moderately thick cloak, standing with his hands tucked into his sleeves at the front door.
Lu Lingcong did not hear the sound of the main door opening or closing. It was clear that Xie Jing had been standing there for a while and had been standing there all along.
In this unremarkable, cold, and desolate autumn night, Lu Lingcong realized with a sense of disbelief that the person sheltering in the warm yellow lamplight while waiting alone for his late return was actually his Princess Consort Zhao.
Xie Jing was neither anxious nor urging, merely watching calmly as the person before him froze in place for a long time due to astonishment. The two stood in silence. Finally, Lu Lingcong smiled with a sense of resignation, opened his arms, and called out to him, “My precious sweetheart.”
Xie Jing was now able to clearly distinguish Lu Lingcong’s tone. For instance, at this moment, he knew that this intimate endearment was simply a way for Lu Lingcong to acknowledge his kindness.
He slowly took a few steps forward before extending his arms from beneath the cloak, and accepted this embrace of gratitude, just as family, closest relatives, or intimate friends would.
Lu Lingcong and he had both been in the night for a considerable amount of time, but the former’s body temperature was naturally higher; his palms were warm as he cupped the back of Xie Jing’s neck, drawing his head towards his shoulder.
Xie Jing sniffed like a small animal exploring in the dirt by wrinkled his nose, and asked softly, “Did you drink wine?”
Lu Lingcong was taken aback, hastily released him, and took a step back, “I originally planned to wash up and change my clothes before coming back, I didn’t expect you to… why haven’t you gone to bed yet?”
Xie Jing was a little reluctant to leave the warmth of his embrace, but he also didn’t move closer to ask for the hug to continue. He just shook his head, “It’s alright. Were you planning to sit on the steps for a while just now? If you want to be alone, I’ll go back and sleep first.”
He paused after speaking, about to turn, but then heard Lu Lingcong call out, “Wait a moment!”
Xie Jing slightly raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.
Lu Lingcong considered for a moment, then moved closer to him, “If you aren’t very tired yet, it would be good if you were willing to sit with me for a while and talk… but the wind is out tonight, are you cold?”
As he spoke, he had already taken off his outer robe. Xie Jing neither agreed nor disagreed, simply allowing Lu Lingcong to wrap him in the garment. The two sat down on the steps side by side, their shoulders touching and their knees lightly brushing against one another.
“Is the matter concluded?” Xie Jing asked first.
Lu Lingcong hadn’t expected him to already know the details. Xie Jing then briefly repeated what Xie Yan had come over to say today.
“Please thank your elder brother for me,” Lu Lingcong let out a breath. “I’ve passed the test for now. As for what Emperor Father truly thinks in his heart, and who will ultimately succeed to the position of commander, I can’t control it, and I also don’t want to.”
“Then don’t worry about it,” Xie Jing rested his elbow on his knee, propped his chin in his hand, and glanced sideways at him. “Thinking this way is very exhausting.”
Lu Lingcong also looked back at him aimlessly for a moment, let out an “En,” and then suddenly said, “You once told me how your given name and courtesy name came to be. As for mine, have I ever told you?”
Xie Jing shook his head, but then said, “But I can probably guess. It means you must ‘follow orders,’ you must ‘obey and respect.’ Did His Majesty choose it for you?”
Lu Ling tacitly agreed. After a while, he rubbed his brow tiredly and confusedly while asking himself, “Sometimes I truly cannot understand Emperor Father. What exactly does he want from me? Since he wants me to be completely obedient, to carefully execute his commands, and to meekly be his subject instead of his son, why does he allow endless open plots and hidden schemes to run rampant and entangle me? What kind of outcome does he want to see? Does he want to see me forced to dive into the mire, change myself beyond recognition, fight Lu Lingzhang to the death, win and brush the dust off my clothes to sit on the dragon throne, or lose and take everyone in my family to their deaths?”
Xie Jing did not answer, merely looking at him silently and compassionately. Lu Lingcong had already spoken the answer himself.
“Why can’t I choose not to fight?” Lu Lingcong was clearly aware that the series of questions he was voicing already had a fully formed explanation in his heart. “Why don’t I even have the right to choose to say, ‘I will not fight’?”
Xie Jing thought for a moment, then extended his pale, snow-white hand, slightly curling his fingers upward before placing the back of it over Lu Lingcong’s hand and pressing it down gently.
Lu Lingcong understood what he meant. Everyone on this land was subject to the emperor’s authority; all of them lived within the gilded cage of imperial power.
“I greatly admire my mother. She had been selected in her youth to serve as a high-ranking concubine in the Eastern Palace for the Crown Prince. After my father ascended the throne, she was granted the title of Noble Consort. For nearly twenty years, I cannot recall her ever showing even the slightest trace of resentment, grief, or hysteria. She saw through everything early on, and unlike Empress Mother, she doesn’t bother herself with matters concerning her maternal family; she completely ignores everything except for me and Zhenzhen.”
This touched upon Xie Jing’s blind spot. He could only tentatively ask, “I noticed that His Majesty does not have many people in his harem. He is at least respectful towards Lady Wu, isn’t he?”
Lu Lingcong let out a sneer, “They are indifferent to everyone in exactly the same way. What I mean is—among them all, Emperor Father, Empress Mother, and my mother, there is only apathy, neither love nor hatred. Emperor Father does not love Empress Mother or my mother. Empress Mother and my mother likewise do not love him, nor do they harbor resentment toward each other. Everyone holds a bowl of ice water in their hands, keeping a distance of three feet, and has lived in polite detachment within the palace for these twenty years.”
Xie Jing silently recalled his elder brother’s words from earlier today.
To the emperor, subjects like them were insignificant pawns, cheap like fish and shrimp. Then how much more precious were his two biological princes compared to toys like crickets?
Lu Lingcong pulled Xie Jing’s exposed hand closer, instinctively rubbing the back of it, “Observing them clearly over these past years, the question I most often ask myself is this: is this what is meant by husband and wife? Can such an unbearable arrangement still be called a marriage? What sort of person am I supposed to grow old with, and how? I do not understand, and I have nowhere to learn from it either.”
Xie Jing remained silent for a long time. In that instant, his mind became completely clear, and he realized very distinctly why the “gains” he received from Lu Lingcong were consistently not his “desires.”
A small drift of ginkgo leaves, swept down by the wind, lay scattered at the base of the steps, faintly forming a shallow pool of gold, yet it failed to reflect even the dark, raven-black outline of the moon.
When the servants opened the residence gate at dawn, they would sweep them all clean, just like these whispers tonight, which would disappear to unknown places.
Xie Jing gently guided Lu Lingcong’s hand to the side of his face, pressed his slightly cool cheek against it, and breathed a comforting, warm puff of air into his palm, “I want to bathe. Let’s go back.”
