It was not only Prince Zhao’s Mansion that realized the winter of the fourth year of Jingyu would be difficult to endure.
As autumn was drawing to a close, Prime Minister Wang Chu suddenly claimed to be ill and declared to the public that it was not a common seasonal cold but rather frailty and lack of strength due to his advancing age. He stayed indoors, just as he said he would.
This was immediately followed by his eldest son, Wang Qi, the current Chief Supervisor of the Central Secretariat. He submitted a memorial explaining his intentions and voluntarily requested to withdraw from office to fulfill his filial duties. Although he retained his official status, it was essentially the same as taking an extended leave; he no longer attended court nor took part in state affairs. As for the Prime Minister’s second son, Wang Xi, his rank was relatively low and his post insignificant, so nothing in his circumstances changed and he continued on as before.
The Wang family’s sources of information were essentially the same as those of the Prince Zhao’s Mansion: they relied on reports of harvests and winter planting plans submitted by the tenants on their own fiefdoms or properties.
Moreover, the other long-established and well-regarded clans acted likewise; drawing on their properties and networks, they detected the strangeness of this winter earlier and with greater sensitivity than those lone officials who had entered officialdom solely through years of study. Each clan made their own secret moves and prepared for the worst.
The Wang family had an advantage over them: they had access to the most authentic and up-to-date information regarding crucial departments like the Ministry of Finance and the Ministry of Revenue. They had a clear grasp of how much silver lay in the state treasury, how much grain was stockpiled in the granaries of the key producing regions, and whether; and to what extent, these reserves were sufficient to withstand the calamity.
It was precisely because he understood the situation so clearly that Wang Chu chose to withdraw quickly and lie low for a time. If they weathered the crisis, so much better; come spring, he could simply dust off his robes and reappear, claiming he had only just recovered from a serious illness. If things went awry, there were naturally scapegoats and a path of retreat already in place.
No one was naive enough to believe that the Wang family was stopping or surrendering power. Across the court and in key posts throughout the provinces and commanderies, members of the Wang clan were everywhere; even without Prime Minister Wang Chu’s overt direction, they had already, in private, developed a system that ran on its own. Their interests were closely tied to the Wang family’s great tree. They wouldn’t need to be directed; they would spontaneously strive to protect the roots of the great tree in exchange for protection.
Yet outwardly, they still required a mouthpiece, a presentable puppet wholly controlled by the Prime Minister’s Mansion, a person of upright character and public esteem, who could serve fully as the Wang clan’s voice and, should matters turn dire, be swiftly and cleanly cast aside to shoulder the blame.
It was obvious this role had been crafted with Xie Jing in mind; the Wang clan had already sounded him out, taken him in, and vested him with authority; only waiting for the moment to put it to use.
The day after Wang Chu claimed to be sick, an imperial decree reached Wuyi Lane, appointing Xie Jing as Right Vice Minister of the Department of State Affairs. Compared to his previous title of Yinqing Glorious Grand Master, this was not merely a promotion from the third rank to the second but a change from a nominal, honorary title to a real, executive position wielding actual power.
Everyone knew that Xie Jing represented the Wang family, and the so-called real power in his hands was merely faithfully executing Wang Chu’s directives. As for his own clansmen, those pushed aside and shunned at court for their entanglement in the Xie family case, Xie Jing offered them no favors after gaining power, and they, in turn, never took the initiative to visit his mansion; the line drawn between them was unmistakably clear.
Public opinion of Xie Jing was not very favorable, primarily due to the incident at Mount Tang in the spring, where he was criticized for abandoning his own son and seeking survival alone, which was chilling and attracted scrutiny. As for the pure-minded officials in court, firstly, they were long dissatisfied with the aristocracy’s monopoly and control; secondly, they disliked Xie Jing’s attempts to curry favor with the Wang clan; and thirdly, they subconsciously excluded Xie Jing from the ranks of court officials and scholars. As an outsider of the clan who had already been stripped of his noble title, what connection did his reputation or disgrace have to them, and why would they need to speak on his behalf?
The Wang family’s decision to promote Xie Jing, or rather, their decision to recruit him early on, stemmed from two considerations. Besides his intricate past relationship with Prince Zhao’s Mansion, the other factor was that before the Xie family incident, although the Wang and Xie clans couldn’t strictly be called “political enemies,” one stood behind Prince Zhao’s Mansion and the other behind Linhai Hall, making them widely recognized opponents in court and society. Thus, when Wang Chu recalled Xie Jing to the capital, bestowed upon him a high office and generous stipend, and placed great reliance on him, it won him a measure of public favor, with many lauding his magnanimity, his discernment in employing talent, and his readiness to set aside past grievances.
The Wang family had gained a good reputation effortlessly; why wouldn’t they keep up the pretense? The common people only cared about their livelihood, not the throne. Even if the officials suspected the truth behind the Xie family case years ago, who dared to speak openly? Everyone simply held a tacit understanding while muddling through their days and watching the spectacle.
The official circles frequently produced new jokes, and there was no shortage of gossip and secrets concerning entanglements with the imperial family. As October arrived, the first rumor to spread widely concerned Prince Zhao taking a new princess consort—though still only hearsay, some said the candidate was the legitimate daughter of the Cui’s Mansion, while others insisted she had already met His Highness and that the two were mutually pleased with one another. In short, the story was quite plausible, as if Prince Zhao would visit the Cui family to propose marriage the next day.
Naturally, listeners couldn’t help but compare the new princess consort with the former one, and they immediately turned to investigating Xie Jing’s movements. Xie Jing was now highly sought after. Although he couldn’t escape the suspicion of having only superficial glory, he was surrounded by flatterers and sycophants, making him far more noticeable than before.
Disappointingly, he showed no trace of the concern people might have expected; he still frequented pleasure quarters and leisure houses, as though Prince Zhao could marry whomever he wished, while Xie Jing would simply continue living his own untroubled, carefree life. They were equally decadent, yet neatly separate.
A meddlesome individual, under the pretext of a housewarming banquet for a newly completed residence, invited both Lord Xie and Prince Zhao to attend, and His Highness even brought along the Heir Apparent. Although the hall was spacious and guests filled the doors, they were nonetheless under the same roof. No matter how far apart they were, some things one did not wish to see were forced upon their sight.
There were no elders present, and the atmosphere was less strict than a palace banquet, naturally exempting them from many formalities. As the wine took effect, both guests and host became completely unrestrained. For a time, some shed their robes; while others lay sprawled across the seats, utterly disorderly.
Xie Jing did not shed his robes. He was merely leaning languidly, half-drunk, on a couch outside the railing. His ivory-white outer robe was embroidered with large, dazzling camellias, while his inner garment and lower robe were a striking crimson, the same color as the flowers.
He was surrounded by many men and women without any pretense. The courtesans poured wine and nestled close to his neck and shoulder. He drank from their hands, and when colleagues whispered some vulgar jokes to him, he didn’t avoid them. He leaned in, smiling, and even occasionally returning a few teasing remarks.
What caught the eye most was that his boots and socks were carelessly strewn beside the couch. His trousers barely reached his ankles, exposing feet so pale they outshone even the arms of the nearby courtesans, and each of his ten toenails was painted a vivid, raw red. It was an image that went far beyond mere absurdity or debauchery.
Prince Zhao had seen a lot and chose to ignore it, paying no mind to those who intentionally joked or tried to provoke him. The Heir Apparent, however, being young, eventually couldn’t bear it. He likely felt it was truly shameful and unbearable and couldn’t stand the spectators’ gaze from all directions. He excused himself to his father, not even notifying the host, and was the first to depart indignation.
Using the excuse of being overwhelmed by alcohol, Xie Jing also left the banquet. Relying on the impression left by the host’s earlier tour of the residence, he found the back gate. Sure enough, a carriage was parked outside. The gate attendant, evidently a recent hire who did not recognize him, nonetheless courteously invited him to get aboard.
Behind the carriage curtain sat a figure. Xie Jing lowered his head, catching the mingled scent of wine and cosmetic powder clinging to his outer robe. After a brief pause, he removed it and casually threw it into the silver charcoal brazier in the outer compartment, watching as it swiftly curled and blackened into a heap of filthy rags amid sparks and drifting ash.
He shook out the heavy cloak hanging over his arm, wrapped it around himself, and moved behind the curtain. He greeted the figure with a bow, “Teacher.”
“I came to pick up His Highness Shizi; we had arranged for him to meet a few of my former students who are back in the capital for reporting later at my mansion,” Zhang Yan said while pouring him some tea. “I heard about what happened at the banquet today. You truly were willing to go to great lengths.”
Xie Jing offered an ambiguous smile: “Now that I’ve become someone who disregards propriety and forgets morality, a heartless scoundrel, why should I care about this little bit of face? Furthermore, there are quite a few who fall for this kind of thing. I can gather countless rumors and information by selling my charms. I am only ashamed to have disgraced you, Teacher.”
He was not someone who frequently resorted to schemes in these matters, but this absolutely did not mean he was incapable of them. Xie Jing had always known that his striking appearance could effortlessly remove many obstacles in his path, and he was equally aware of what temperament, what manner, and what choice of words could break down emotional defenses and win others’ affection.
In fact, throughout the careful maintenance of his marriage with Lu Lingcong, he had used such methods more than once—employing wit, subtle stratagems, and calculated maneuvers to keep Lu Lingcong’s gaze lingering on him for longer and longer.
Nothing in this world comes without a price; military and political secrets are a form of reward, and true affection is no different. It is also something that must be earned.
Zhang Yan was unconcerned and waved his hand, “I heard from His Highness Shizi earlier that you had something else you needed to see me about?”
Xie Jing said, “Yes, I have an unreasonable request, and I hope to trouble Teacher for help.”
Zhang Yan pondered for a moment: “Is it about you? Shizi? Or the Prince?”
Xie Jing thought for a moment too, “It’s about me.”
Zhang Yan nodded, “Just speak freely.”
“Is Teacher clear on what kind of situation this winter will bring?”
Zhang Yan sighed, “I rose from the fields and the soil itself, how could I not understand the signs of hardship among the common people?”
Xie Jing knew that having been an official for decades, Zhang Yan certainly had ways to gather firsthand information from the populace, so he didn’t ask further. He simply said, “Teacher, you see worldly affairs clearly. Yet there are still many scholars and examination candidates like you, who also came from the fields, who have not yet managed to rise. They possess no wealth, no powerful family or clan to depend on, and do not even know how their parents and people back home will survive this winter.”
Zhang Yan was startled, then confirmed, “They live in poverty and cold within the capital, struggling even to keep themselves afloat. Communication with their hometowns is slow and obstructed, and many are not even aware that their families are facing the threat of disaster.”
Xie Jing said, “Precisely because of this that I want to ask Teacher to do me a favor. Your students and former subordinates are scattered throughout the court and countryside, and it is quicker for you to convey news to the many impoverished scholars in the capital. Could you notify them of this matter in the name of Prince Zhao’s Mansion and then distribute the charitable funds to them in the name of Zifeng’s maternal clan, the Wu family? The funds have already been prepared. If you agree, it will be sent to you immediately.”
Zhang Yan listened, then smiled, “After going around in circles, this still ends up being Prince Zhao’s affair in the end, so how is it your business?”
Xie Jing also smiled faintly while shaking his head, “Even if a person stands alone in the world, they still cannot escape having both origin and destination. So long as one breathes, who can truly rise above the mortal world and live beyond it? I am myself, yet I am also Zifeng’s ‘I,’ and Qing’er’s and Ningning’s ‘I.’ In this life, my flesh and bones are bound to the Prince Zhao’s Mansion; it cannot be cleanly severed. If Teacher fulfills a request for the Prince Zhao’s Mansion, then Teacher is also fulfilling it for me. If the Prince Zhao’s Mansion is unstable, how can I find peace? Therefore, even if you ask me again now, I still answer the same; this is my affair as well.”
Zhang Yan paused, then said with some helplessness, “If you can manage to overcome this obstacle yourself, then there’s certainly no reason for me not to help.”
Just as they were talking, the carriage curtain moved again. Xie Jing turned his head and saw Lu Shuqing climb into the carriage, carrying a food box and exhaling white breaths in the cold air.
“I had them boil some hangover soup for Mother. The wind is quite strong outside right now, so I also brought some astragalus beef soup to ward off the cold for the Grand Tutor.” He offered two bowls of soup, one to Zhang Yan and the other to Xie Jing, then sat down closely pressed against the latter. Xie Jing wrapped an arm around him, removed his hood, and smoothed the strands of his side hair that had been slightly tousled by the hood’s soft fur trim.
Zhang Yan teased Lu Shuqing, “Now, in front of Teacher, you should address him as Senior Brother. Why did you call him Mother?”
Lu Shuqing shyly buried his face in the cloak. Xie Jing bent his finger and scraped his cheek, also smiling, “That’s right. I should thank Little Junior Brother for the hangover soup.”
In private meetings, Xie Jing never forgot to ask Lu Shuqing about the knee injury he had suffered on Mount Tang, yet that wound had been sustained in spring and was already fully healed by the time winter arrived. Xie Jing was never a talkative person, but facing his children, he inevitably had this and that to instruct and everything to worry about.
When Lu Shuqing was with his mother, he wasn’t willing to ask questions as he did with his father. As a child, when he grew impatient listening, he would not openly talk back; instead, he would drift off, staring blankly at the ground, giving vague hums and nods of agreement, waiting for Xie Jing to finish speaking before being naturally allowed to leave. Now that meetings were rare, he simply kept quiet and obediently listened to his fuss.
The hangover soup was finished. Lu Shuqing drew a thin sheet of paper from his robes and handed it to Xie Jing, saying, “Aunt has sent a letter back.”
Xie Jing was stunned and quickly took the envelope and opened it. Neither he nor Lu Shuqing intended to be secretive, but Zhang Yan quietly went out to the outer compartment to instruct the coachman to add charcoal.
This was the first letter sent back to the capital since Lu Lingzhen departed in July. Its contents were in her usual neat, concise style: one line stating she was well, one line inquiring about the safety of the elders and children of the family, and the remainder reporting on the progress of the wedding procession.
After arriving in Yingchuan Commandery, she dismissed everyone except the Hewei Guards, along with the genuine palace attendants and female officials, sending more than a hundred people away.
She distributed her dowry among these people, allowing them to return to their hometowns. If they had nowhere to go, they could take silver ingots stamped with her title and present them at the Wu family’s merchant houses in various places, where arrangements would be made for them to find work and support themselves.
Xie Jing read the letter and remained silent for a long time, then asked, “Did your father say if he wants to write back?”
Lu Shuqing shook his head, “Aunt and Father agreed before she left,” he lowered his voice slightly, “that she would send a letter before reaching Yongzhou, and after arriving in Yongzhou, everything would be communicated through military reports.”
Xie Jing had made an excuse to leave the banquet and couldn’t delay too long. After quickly exchanging a few more casual words, he leaned in and hugged Lu Shuqing tightly, saying, “Mother has to go back now. Pass a message to your father for me.”
“What should I say?”
Xie Jing lowered his eyes, a faint warmth rising to his ears. After a brief pause, he said, “Tonight… I won’t see him for now.”
