Leaving through the Xie family estate’s southwestern corner gate and following the ridge path for a short distance, a clear stream came into view as it wound through the fields. It only came up to a person’s waist, and farmers from near and far all drew their water there. While Xie Jing spent these days in the main hall counting ancestral properties item by item with his clansmen, Lu Lingcong wandered about. The antiques and rarities in the residence were no fewer than those in Wuyi Lane; having enjoyed a tour through it all without hindrance and with nothing left to do, he had set his sights on that stream early on, his heart itching for it. However, with Lu Shuqing around, he didn’t dare take him to play in the water without Xie Jing’s approval.
Upon returning to the courtyard, the servants were looking for him everywhere to hand him a note, saying that Xie Jing had instructed that it “must be delivered into His Highness’s hands.”
Lu Lingcong’s heart skipped a beat, wondering if there was an unfair distribution of wealth or if Xie Jing had been bullied and was looking for outside support. On second thought, he felt that whether the members of the Xie clan were officials or farmers, wealthy or not, were all well-settled; it didn’t seem like they would resort to a brawl over an inheritance.
As it turned out, when he hurriedly unfolded the note, he found that Xie Jing had written: “I want to eat ‘Smashed Gold’ fried rice tonight.”
The servant, who was still anxious for him, asked, “Is it urgent?”
Lu Lingcong fell silent. “…It’s not urgent. Where is the kitchen?”
While Lu Shuqing didn’t exactly need people to chase him around to feed him, he was used to chewing slowly and taking his time, often spacing out while eating. When Xie Jing returned to the room in the evening, the boy was still sitting on the threshold holding a small bowl and shoveling rice into his mouth.
Xie Jing asked him, “Why are you sitting here?”
“All the grandpas and grandmas outside eat like this.”
“Which ‘outside’?”
Lu Shuqing lifted his hand high before sweeping it broadly through the air before pointing toward the southwest. “Out—out there.”
Xie Jing didn’t understand, but as he stepped into the room, Lu Lingcong answered, “He saw the country folk eating while sitting directly on the ridges of the fields and copied them.”
The evening meal prepared for him was already set on the table, still carrying the mingled aroma of grains and rising steam. In truth, the so-called “Smashed Gold” rice was nothing more than egg fried rice. In Lu Lingcong’s repertoire, it was the simplest dish; requiring the least effort and skill, and though he didn’t particularly enjoy making it himself, everyone in the household was fond of it. Each time, the pages and maids would wait eagerly outside the dining hall, only stepping in to claim what remained after the three masters had taken their fill, swarming forward to divide up the rest.
Unlike the common version found in eating houses where the eggs were fried into chunks to look like “smashed gold,” Lu Lingcong preferred to whisk the eggs thoroughly so the golden liquid evenly coated every grain of rice, like tender little yellow flowers in spring. Since it was home-cooked, he was generous with the ingredients, liberally scattering peas and diced shrimp throughout. Because the flavor was somewhat mild, Xie Jing would usually scoop a small spoonful of chili oil into a corner of his bowl to mix in as he ate.
Having been busy all day, he was famished. He finished half a bowl before his mouth was free to speak to Lu Lingcong: “Ruling a great state is like cooking a small fish, yet small fish are precisely the hardest to handle. To be able to prepare fried rice like this, in my heart, you already count as a wise ruler for the ages.”
Lu Lingcong was speechless, but no cook ever dislikes a diner’s praise. He was ultimately happy that Xie Jing enjoyed the food. He leaned in close to watch him for a moment, then suddenly asked, “Do you have anything else to do later?”
Seeing him shake his head, Lu Lingcong said, “Let’s go swim in that stream outside.”
Xie Jing thought for a long time before remembering exactly which stream he meant. He had been mischievous in his youth and was once caught and lectured by his tutor for catching fish there with his clan brothers, he rarely went back after that.
Speaking of swimming, Xie Jing had not grown up in the river-veined regions of Jianghua and possessed only average aquatic skills, and there were truly few opportunities in Jinling. The shallow ponds and back lakes within the Prince’s Mansion were not meant for such activities, and the Yangtze River was too dangerous with its treacherous banks and swift currents. The Qinhuai River was suitable, but the trouble lay in it being far too bustling and prosperous; if the entire city saw His Highness Prince Zhao teaching the Heir Apparent to swim shirtless, they would have to head to the palace to receive their punishment the very next day.
Xie Jing noticed Lu Lingcong’s eyes were bright, clearly having seized a rare moment of freedom from restraint and grown playful. And since the weather was indeed stiflingly hot, there was no reason to dampen his mood.
“But Qing’er cannot stay in the water for too long; I’m still afraid of him catching a cold.”
Lu Lingcong naturally agreed wholeheartedly. “I know the boundaries. Zhenzhen was raised by my own hands, after all; do you still not trust me with these things?”
With the two of them having reached an agreement, Xie Jing called the servants to clear the table. By the time he turned his face toward the door, he noticed that Lu Shuqing still hadn’t finished eating.
The summer sky grew dark even later in the north. The three of them chatted for a while to digest their food. By the time they reached the rear courtyard, a faint, dusky navy still lingered across the horizon.
Xie Jing stayed on the field ridge guarding the two lanterns they had brought to provide light for Lu Lingcong. Lu Shuqing didn’t know how to swim at all, but fortunately, he wasn’t afraid. His small frame could be supported entirely in one of Lu Lingcong’s palms, while the other steadied him from the side, guiding him to begin by practicing how to hold his breath.
However, Lu Shuqing showed little interest in that and was clearly more enthusiastic about splashing water everywhere with a dog-paddle style that sent sprays flying. Lu Lingcong lifted him up and splashed water back and forth with him for a while, soon soaking Xie Jing’s trouser hems. Startled, Xie Jing set the lantern down where it was and leapt several zhang away, warning, “I’m only not going into the water today. If you’ve got the nerve, wait until next time we’re back home at the hot spring pool and settle this there. If I don’t make the two of you beg for mercy, I’ll take your surname.”
The two in the water did not acknowledge his blustering challenge. Lu Shuqing climbed onto his father’s neck like a little monkey and was hoisted onto his shoulders while shouting with excitement. Lu Lingcong charged out of the stream in a few strides before quickly catching up to the fleeing Xie Jing. However, being barefoot and clumsy, he tripped; he only had enough time to shield Lu Shuqing, leaving himself to tumble onto the bank in a heap with Xie Jing, soaking them both in water droplets.
Xie Jing panted and said ominously, “You had better get off me within three counts; otherwise, a shocking case of Princess Consort Zhao ruthlessly murdering his husband will spread through the Chen Commandery by tomorrow morning. Three, two, one, one, one…”
The “one” was counted a dozen times, but Lu Lingcong simply didn’t move. Eventually, Xie Jing couldn’t maintain his composure and broke into a laugh while scolding, “Let go of Qing’er, don’t crush him!”
The three of them separated. Since Lu Shuqing’s skin was delicate and they feared the gravel and sand might scratch him, Lu Lingcong lifted him directly onto Xie Jing’s chest. Without anything blocking his view while lying flat on the ground, Xie Jing finally noticed the scenery before him and hurriedly nudged Lu Shuqing, “Quick, look up!”
The day had been clear and cloudless, and now that the night had completely settled in, the stars across the entire sky were revealed. The magnificent and brilliant Milky Way flowed toward the earth from the northeast like the waters of the Yellow River descending from the highest heavens; surging endlessly, shining with eternal splendor.
At first, Xie Jing didn’t realize why the stars visible in Jinling, which were no fewer than those here, looked entirely different to the eye. It wasn’t until he heard Lu Lingcong let out a soft gasp of wonder beside him as if seeing it for the first time, that he suddenly understood: what was different was not the stars, but the firmament. The sky of the capital was like a chessboard carved into one square after another, whereas the night sky of the Chen Commandery was so vast and far-reaching, breathing in all of creation—this was the vast sky of his homeland, the place he longed for and returned to in his dreams.
On the way back, Xie Jing and Lu Lingcong walked side by side in front. As they crossed the ridges of the fields, light and bright fireflies rose from the grass, gradually paving a night path flowing with snowy light, while Lu Shuqing trailed unhurriedly behind. Xie Jing instinctively reached back to take his hand, and Lu Shuqing gave a small hop to keep up, stepping neatly into the shadow cast by his parents.
Although the emperor had set their return date for before the Mid-Autumn Festival, an imperial decree arrived to urge them back just after the start of the seventh lunar month. It was ultimately difficult to be father and son in the heavenly household; if he was before the emperor’s eyes, there was the fear of him being held too high; if he was away, there was the fear of losing control.
Lu Shuqing had only just become well-acquainted with the children of the clan, and Xie Jing also wanted to spend a few more days in a life where he didn’t have to frequently enter the palace to report for duty. In truth, no one wanted to return so soon, but with the monarch’s command hanging over their heads, they felt uneasy after all. In the end, they set their return for the sixteenth day of the seventh month as they did not want to miss the excitement of the Zhongyuan Festival.
The middle of the seventh month was not only for mourning deceased relatives but also coincided with the autumn harvest; since ancient times, it had been a season for “holding funerals with joy.” Because Jinling was rich in water systems, the custom there was to release lanterns into the river to express remembrance, but the old custom of the North was to hang lanterns and burn incense at the graves. The Xie family estate was built in the suburbs of Yangxia County in the Chen Commandery; since the ancestral graves and the ancestral hall were on their own land, they occupied a vast area and were located on the essential road into the city.
They waited until the sky was completely dark before setting off. After Xie Jing had finished the ritual cleaning and offerings before his grandparents’ tablets, he said to Lu Shuqing, “Do you see these lanterns? There is a tiny kingdom within these lantern wicks, and the relatives who have left us live inside. As long as you light a lantern, they can see you.”
Lu Shuqing still found it difficult to fully comprehend the meaning of death, and neither Lu Lingcong nor Xie Jing had intentionally tried to teach him. After all, his four grandparents were all still quite healthy and wouldn’t encounter such matters for a while. In a few years, when his studies reached the passage “Whether life be long or short, it follows transformation and eventually comes to an end,” he would naturally understand.
The night market was filled with unfamiliar accents everywhere. Lu Lingcong prided himself on speaking in clear, standard pronunciation, yet he repeatedly ran into vendors who stared at him blankly, saying they did not understand. Frustrated, he awkwardly imitated the strange pronunciation of the word “zhong,” then asked Xie Jing, “Do you speak the local dialect?”
Xie Jing shook his head, then nodded. “I can understand it, and I can speak a little if I force it, but it’s not authentic. When I was young, the schoolmaster said we would all have to go to the capital to take the imperial exams one day, so we were only allowed to speak the official tongue. Even my grandparents spoke to me only in the official language.”
Along the way, they passed a vendor selling a noodle dish called “tang bing.” It was made by simmering mutton bones into a thick, milky-white broth like cow’s milk, then adding shredded tofu, kelp strips, fine vermicelli, quail eggs, and thin long noodles, all stewed together into a rich, fragrant bowl so appetizing it could almost make one’s eyebrows fall off.
Lu Shuqing, who had been buried against his mother’s shoulder the entire time with only a pair of dark, darting eyes peeking out, sniffed the scent and turned his head sharply, he was visibly tempted.
Lu Lingcong had already paid, picked up a portion with his chopsticks, blew on it gently, and brought it to his mouth first.
Xie Jing tilted his head to watch him and reminded, “You’re eating from a bowl, be quicker about it. Don’t let it drip onto your collar.”
Like a little hamster, Lu Shuqing carefully finished a strand of noodles bit by bit before replying, “Aunt said you’re not supposed to go ‘slurp—’ like that.”
“Do you want more?” Lu Lingcong said. “Your aunt is right that you shouldn’t do that at home or at formal tables, but we’re out here playing. No one knows you, so eat however you like.”
Soon, the three of them finished the bowl together. Xie Jing didn’t particularly like mutton, but the rustic cooking method carried a strong, smoky richness that completely masked any gaminess, leaving only a deep, distinctive aroma. Over the years of living side by side with Lu Lingcong, they had unconsciously adapted to each other’s tastes; and with Lu Shuqing around, whose diet needed to remain light and gentle, it had become rare for them to taste such unfiltered, hometown flavors.
The Mid-Autumn Ghost Festival also coincided with the Buddhist Ullambana Festival, and in the city a tall stage had been erected for performances of [Mulian Saves His Mother.] In the palace, The Record of Exhorting Goodness was performed every year until Lu Lingcong and Xie Jing were almost tired of it, but the Central Plains version incorporated folk martial arts and acrobatic acts, which made it somewhat novel to watch.
However, the Mulian opera was solemn and eerie in tone. Earlier, passing the ancestral cemetery had not frightened Lu Shuqing at all, but on stage, when Mulian’s mother died and fell into the realm of hungry ghosts, suffering all manner of punishments, it genuinely terrified him. He clung tightly to Xie Jing and refused to let go.
Xie Jing could only gently rock him and coax softly, “This is meant to teach that good and evil are ultimately repaid in the end. Mother has lived a life of idle wealth and ease. Even if I haven’t accumulated much merit, I’ve never committed any sins either, so I won’t suffer those punishments. Don’t be afraid.”
After much persuasion, Lu Shuqing finally accepted that not every mother in the world would have to go to the underworld and suffer and reluctantly allowed Lu Lingcong to take him. He was then lifted up to sit high on his father’s shoulders before happily heading off together to buy freshly baked, crisp and sweet peanut cakes.
Xie Jing found a teahouse by the roadside and ordered a pot of Xinyang Maojian tea while waiting for them. The place had singers and dancers performing to entertain guests. After watching idly for a while, Xie Jing suddenly grew mischievous. He casually borrowed a pale green bracelet from a girl playing the pipa beside him and slipped it onto his wrist before rolling up his sleeves to ensure both hands concealed his identity.
When Lu Lingcong returned and passed by the private booth, Xie Jing suddenly extended an arm through the gauze curtain to block his way. With a flick of his fingers, the folding fan tucked at Lu Lingcong’s waist was already in his hand.
The gauze was thin and the interior brightly lit; though Xie Jing’s face could not be seen clearly, his posture and movements were distinct. Imitating the Kunshan-style fan techniques, he held the fan with one hand and steadied it at the edge with the other while rotating it up and down on two pivot points. Then he switched to holding both sides of the fan bones before letting it flip as he turned, tracing a full, flowing arc with his body. The sequence of variations was smooth and effortless, and finally, with a sharp “pah,” he snapped the fan shut and thrust it out through the curtain, stopping right in front of Lu Lingcong.
However, Lu Lingcong remained unmoved, saying calmly, “Qing’er, do you think this hand looks nice?”
Lu Shuqing nodded. “It does.”
“Then shall we call out the owner of this hand and take a look?”
At that, Xie Jing froze for a moment. The next instant, his wrist was seized, and he was pulled straight out from behind the gauze curtain, losing his balance as he stumbled forward.
Lu Lingcong smiled faintly. “Even if your hands were ground to dust, I’d still recognize them.”
Xie Jing steadied himself and, turning half a circle, slipped out of Lu Lingcong’s hold. He tossed the folding fan back at him and said provocatively, “I know more than just that.”
His forearms were long and smooth; especially when his sleeves were rolled high, the beautifully shaped elbows were revealed, forming sharp, elegant angles due to his lean build. Xie Jing met Lu Lingcong’s gaze without flinching, his wrists rising, pressing, tilting, and falling in rhythm with his movements. His hands traced flowing cloud-like patterns before him; one hand dipped while the other lifted, fingers interlacing and then unwinding like a snake coiling backward. Every gesture carried shifting allure, all of it flowing through the arched bridge formed by his arms.
Lu Lingcong recognized it this time: “The Cloud-Turning, Rain-Making Hand?”
Xie Jing nodded proudly, then rewarded Lu Shuqing, who had been clapping for him, with a loud kiss on the cheek. “I learned from Sister Xiao last year.”
Lu Lingcong did not ask why he had learned it; he could already guess it was one of Xie Jing’s ways of “winning him over.” He merely took hold of that pale, elegant elbow and rubbed it lightly, saying, “Your hands and dance are good, but it isn’t worn in the right clothes, nor performed in the right place.”
Xie Jing immediately sensed what he was about to say and, as expected, Lu Lingcong lowered his voice into a whisper. “I think the bed in our bedroom at the Prince’s Mansion is more than enough. Next time, I’ll give you some trendy clothes, and you can dance for me inside the bed curtains. Wouldn’t it be much more delightful seeing a beauty under the lamp like that than here?”
Just imagining it made Xie Jing feel a pang of discomfort. He waved it off. “I spoke too soon when I praised you. With that natural talent for becoming a tyrant without any instruction, it’s better you don’t inherit the throne. I don’t want to end up recorded in history as a calamity to the state.”
When they left the Chen Commandery, it was early morning. The clan members came to see them off with the same decorum as when they had arrived, but Xie Jing now understood that this formality was not cold politeness. Rather, it was the Xie clan of the Chen Commandery’s way of living: rooted in their homeland with each person accepting their own fate. They neither flattered nor openly expressed longing; they only stood in silence for a long farewell as though blood ties themselves had a quiet distance.
Xie Jing leaned against the carriage window, looking back for a long time, until the ancestral residence became a distant, indistinct black dot. Only then did he sit back down in silence.
Lu Lingcong said in a low voice to comfort him, “We will definitely come back again.”
Xie Jing nodded, though in his heart he thought perhaps it would be many, many years later; or perhaps he would never have the chance to return again.
