Author: Fu Li

Translator: Golden Pavilion

Editor: Adrian S. Mei

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

Before dawn, as the sky began to clear, the lonely sound of broom through snow filled the street, as if it could bury even the wheels of Fengbing’s chariot.

 

He arrived at an inconvenient time, thus only the gate warden greeted him. A hand on the crossbar, he gazed ahead at the passing streets of Chang’an, as perpendicular and orderly as ever, leading up to Taiji Palace, then climbing beyond to the vast horizon. The one hundred and eight wards formed a chess board, a game in which he had been one of the black and white pieces thrown against one another, but no longer. Now, he was merely a commoner of the mountain wilds.

 

He had embarked on this journey with a light heart. Exiled to the faraway lands in the south for more than five years, he gradually came to let go of those events in his past. Chang’an was nothing special, and pursuing honour and success was less meaningful than reading Buddhist scriptures and roaming the land.

 

The gate warden led him to his place of stay, a quiet, secluded courtyard. Most delightful was the stream that ran through all the rooms, gurgling at his feet. The water was clear, albeit with bits of floating ice and snow, as well as withered leaves drifting by. At first, he was surprised by this treatment but soon received an explanation from the gate warden—he was to occupy only one room in the courtyard.

 

It was more than good enough so long as he had a roof over his head. He had once lived in the House of Ten Princes in the Xingning Ward for nearly ten years. Though the property was large, it was crowded with members of the imperial family. With one roof pressing against another, he could hear the children being beaten to the left and the bed banging deep into the night on the right. In comparison, this place was pleasantly quiet.

 

Upon entry, he found a sparsely furnished room. His attendant Chunshi put down their baggage and began cleaning. Fengbing tried to help, but Chunshi puffed out his cheeks and glared at him.

 

“Now that we are in the capital, you must mind your identity!”

 

Fengbing chuckled and stepped outside, leaving him to his business.

 

Chunshi had always believed in his master’s innocence. When an imperial decree arrived in the eighth month, summoning his master to the capital during the New Year’s court meeting for an audience and to renew brotherly bonds, Chunshi naturally assumed that the new emperor intended to redress his master’s grievances, and perhaps they would no longer have to return to Laozhou after this trip. Since then, it was as if the attendant had regained his former place—back at the House of Ten Princes, by the side of His Highness Prince Fengbing, as the most discerning servant he once was. He had been preparing for this moment for far too long.

 

After reading for a while, Fengbing returned to his room to catch up on sleep, soon after which the envoys from Jiannan and Hezhong arrived, piling the courtyard with chests upon chests of tributes. They greeted warmly upon seeing him. Hearing that he had come from the south, they were taken aback.

 

“You’ve come all the way from Laozhou, and yet you are much swifter than us! The full moon was last night.”

 

“Blessed as we were,” Fengbing said, “we set out at once after receiving His Majesty’s decree in the eighth month and arrived in the eleventh.”

 

The head envoy from Hezhong, Chen Qiu, scrutinised him from head to toe, becoming increasingly flustered. “If I’m not mistaken, you’re Pri–”

 

“Li Fengbing, a commoner,” he finished with a bow.

 

The head envoy from Jiannan, Feng Cheng, finally composed himself. “Why, of course! But why have you travelled alone rather than alongside the envoy of Laozhou?”

 

“It’s an embarrassing story, in fact,” Fengbing said, smiling. “We got separated on the way... If Envoy Xiang travels fast, he should arrive soon.”

 

The envoys were all staring, mesmerised. Fengbing rarely smiled. Nearing thirty, he had a gentle, soft-spoken appearance, with low, shapely brows and clear eyes that always seemed to hold a touch of melancholy. When he smiled, however, it was like the arrival of the spring thaw. Even the residual snow on the branches danced away in the wind, warmed by the heartfelt daydream he wove.

 

The envoys recalled that Prince Fengbing, the youngest son of the late emperor, had been a sickly person before his fall from grace, living in seclusion inside the House of Ten Princes, indifferent to worldly affairs. He had withdrawn from the power struggle early due to his illness, never receiving imperial favour, never standing out amongst the four princes and a thousand imperial clansmen. Yet, such a man had followed the then-Crown Prince Youke in committing treason. Truly, one cannot judge a man by his appearance.

 

Chen Qiu, a particularly astute man who often travelled to the capital due to the proximity of his office, looked at the fallen prince with a newfound perspective. Fengbing had such pale skin and such a thin waistline that he must have been recovering from a chronic illness. Frail like a willow in the wind, yet towering in height, he looked downward at others like an immortal gazing down on the mortal world, making all around him feel inferior.

 

Before they knew it, an imperial decree had arrived, announced by one of the emperor’s chamberlains. So came the rest of the envoys from their rooms, and they all knelt in the courtyard.

Many of the regional officials had never seen the eunuchs from the inner court, but Fengbing recognised him. Yuan Jiulin had once been an apprentice under Grand Chamberlain Meng Zhao’en. Today, the young eunuch wore the seal and ribbon of a deputy chamberlain, a clear announcement of his promotion. Chamberlain Yuan cleared his throat and read the decree, instructing the newly arrived envoys to head to the Office of State Affairs to receive their official briefing.

 

The envoys who have long since arrived immediately breathed sighs of relief. Fengbing and the envoys from Hezhong and Jiannan were the only ones who arrived that day, but Fengbing was not sure if he was considered an envoy.

 

Chamberlain Yuan bowed to him on purpose. “Master Li?” His eyes narrowed with his smile.

 

Fengbing blinked back at him. So that was the title he was worthy of—“Master”.

“As decreed by His Majesty, you are also to receive a briefing at the Ministry of Rites,” Chamberlain Yuan said, his hands cupped. “If it please you, go alongside the two envoys.”

 

Against the majestic backdrop of Taiji Palace to the north, the walls that housed the Department of State Affairs also displayed a sense of imperial authority. The gatekeeper verified their identity slips and granted them entry, but no one guided them. While the two envoys had no sense of direction amongst the offices high and low, Fengbing made a straight course for the Ministry of Rites.

 

The two men trailed behind, exchanging puzzled glances. Suddenly, it hit them. Prince Fengbing’s former husband, Pei Dan, now held the positions of both the Minister of Rites and the Prime Minister of the Secretariat-Chancellery.

 

Even fishermen on the far coasts had heard of the most shocking detail to come of the Great Treason from five years ago. A fortnight before the incident, Pei Dan, then Assistant Director of the Palace Library, submitted a petition to the late emperor requesting a divorce from Prince Fengbing, to sever all ties and never meet again. It was called a mutual divorce, but essentially, it was abandonment.

 

A fortnight after the divorce, the treacherous plot of the then-Crown Prince Youke was exposed. Prince Fengbing, though aligned with Prince Youke’s faction, was spared by the late emperor, who recognised he had committed no wrongdoing and only imprisoned him. As a part of the New Year’s pardons, the emperor showed mercy and only stripped Fengbing of his princehood, thereby sparing his life but exiling him to Laozhou in the far south.

 

Pei Dan, on the other hand, leveraged the incident to align himself with the new crown prince, the current emperor, thus advancing rapidly in position. He left the barren Palace Library to serve in the Department of State Affairs, and after being tested in the Ministry of Personnel and the Ministry of Works, he rose up to become Minister of Rites. When the new emperor ascended, Pei Dan was granted the lofty title of Prime Minister, becoming the youngest man to head the Secretariat-Chancellery in the history of the dynasty.

 

Public sentiment about the divorce generally fell into two camps. One camp said that after three years of marriage, Pei Dan must have been heartless to have abandoned his spouse for his own future and survival in the face of adversity. The other camp argued, what else was he supposed to do? As a prestigious top scholar, he had married a sickly incompetent who did not match his own talents, and who even attached himself to the treacherous Prince Youke and plotted treason. The sooner he divorced him, the better!

 

The two sides argued endlessly, but in the end, the mediators would say that married couples were like birds in the same forest; they fly apart in times of trouble. No one is to blame. So come, let us drink tea.

 

To Fengbing’s relief, Pei Dan was not present today. He stepped into the main hall, where the Assistant Minister of Rites greeted them and read them their briefing from His Majesty. Generally, they were praised for their long journey and hardships, and were advised to rest and replenish any needed supplies with the help of the Ministry of Rites. They were also reminded to enjoy their time in the capital, not to cause trouble, and not to create any unfounded gossip upon returning to their respective regions.

 

Fengbing stood, head bowed, but his eyes were fixed on the brightly painted brackets behind the Assistant Minister. Under those brackets was a solemn hall housing portraits of respectable ministers that had served in the Department of State Affairs, a branch of wintersweet blossom in the white porcelain vases beneath each one. On either side of the hall, Fengbing knew, were the offices where the Minister and Assistant Minister of Rites handled their daily affairs. With his title of Prime Minister, however, Pei Dan usually worked in the Office of the Secretariat-Chancellery and seldom came here.

 

“Master Li? Master Li?”

 

He started at the voice of Chen Qiu. His head snapped up, and for a moment, he resembled a startled rabbit, his eyes slightly reddened.

 

Chen Qiu gave a broad grin. “I know it has been long since you visited Chang’an. Would you care to join us to see the city?”

 

The magnificent city of Chang’an.

 

The snow no longer falling, the marketplace collectively stretched and yawned, the sounds of hawkers faint in the white mist. Children in red and green padded jackets romped through the streets, feeling no pain even as they fell in the snow, as if the snow had turned into a cushion.

 

Feng Cheng from Jiannan excused himself, and Chen Qiu also dismissed the servants, leaving him alone with Fengbing. The two made their way toward the East Market. Autumn and winter brought harsh justice, and the streets were crowded with onlookers eager to join in on the excitement of public executions. Before they reached the execution grounds, Chen Qiu shot a sheepish look at Fengbing.

 

“There will be… taking place in the East Market today.”

 

“We need not join the crowd,” Fengbing replied calmly. He assumed the sight of blood illed Chen Qiu, so he ducked under the eaves of the shops.

 

Chen Qiu, however, assumed Fengbing was reminded of the events from five years ago, when thousands of men loyal to Prince Youke were beheaded in the East Market. From dawn till dusk, the executioner’s blade rose and fell, fell and rose again for an entire month until they were no more. Unbeknownst to him, Li Fengbing had been confined in the Palace Prison and missed the spectacle.

 

Chen Qiu found the former prince intriguing—so detached, like a wisp of smoke. Yet a man like him had wedded another man—historically, the top scholars were offered princesses to take as wives, but Pei Dan was the first to “take” a prince. Chen Qiu, raised in the capital with an unyielding spirit fostered under the emperor’s shadow, did not see anything wrong with associating with a former traitor. Instead, with great interest in uncovering more secrets from the past, he eagerly followed Fengbing, his hands behind his back as they admired the dazzling array of goods offered by Chang’an.

When they reached a silk shop, Fengbing stopped to look at the embroidered fabric displayed on the rack, a slight frown forming on his brow. It was a stunning piece of pomegranate-red floral brocade from the Shu region, shimmering vibrantly in cloud-like patterns.

 

“Is it to your liking?” Chen Qiu asked.

 

Fengbing shook his head. “I once owned a garment of this colour.”

 

The shopkeeper quickly approached with a smile. “We can also tailor clothes here. Would you like to see our stitching?” He presented a dress made from the same brocade, delicate and beautiful. “Ah, though this is tailored for women, do have a look at the fine stitching and masterful needlework! We can custom-make any style you desire.”

 

On a sudden impulse, Chen Qiu took the dress from the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper was left stunned, as ordinary men would not act so boldly.

 

Chen Qiu held the dress against Fengbing with a smirk. “This colour truly suits you.”

 

Fengbing stepped back. He looked up at Chen Qiu, gaze turning slightly frosty. He understood the man’s unexpected kindness. The banished prince was a talking point, and even though five years had passed, he was still the most sapid leaf floating in the teacups of the capital. He found this not saddening, but rather amusing. Yes, he was once married off to a man who then abandoned him. They enjoyed watching him, still immersed in the past after all those years, as if the topic was spice to season their conversations with.

 

Nonetheless, the garment was indeed beautiful, its intricate patterns reflecting his past. He took a deep breath and smiled weakly. “I rarely have the chance to visit the capital. I should buy some gifts for the womenfolk at home. However, Shu brocade is a regional product; I think it better to get something with a Chang’an flavour.”

 

Chen Qiu did not expect such a graceful reply from Fengbing and forgot to respond. As Fengbing continued walking, he caught up to him.

 

“Master Li, you have… women at home?”

 

The next moment, Chen Qiu almost wished he could bite his tongue off for asking such a question. Who didn’t have women at home? Of course, he had brought up “women” for a particular purpose, which would unfortunately be easily evaded.

 

“Yes.” Fengbing tilted his head, a soft smile about his lips. “They are in Laozhou, awaiting my return.”

 

Chen Qiu hummed and hawed but couldn’t continue the conversation in the direction he wanted. They strolled through the East Market, avoiding the most crowded areas where executions were taking place. In the evening, they dined at a famous restaurant in the Chongren Ward. Fengbing maintained an indifferent expression throughout, showing neither displeasure nor any hint of joy.

 

The Chongren Ward was home to the nobility of the capital. Expensive scents lingered in the air, and music played throughout the night. From the window of the restaurant’s elegant private room, one could see the eaves of Taiji Palace, the full moon hanging right above it like a crystal plate.

 

Emboldened by a bit of wine, Chen Qiu pointed to a place in the Chongren Ward. “Over there is Prime Minister Pei’s grand residence. A gift from His Majesty! An impressive nine rooms and three courtyards. If lit up, it might even outshine the imperial palace!”

 

“You must have drunk too much, good sir.” Fengbing gave him a soft reminder. “How can you make comparisons of the Imperial Palace?”

 

Yet his gaze had already turned to the place Chen Qiu indicated. It was indeed a grand residence, with towers and pavilions faintly visible in the moonlight. A wide pond lay flat as a mirror, seemingly frozen, reflecting the moon’s clear light. The manor was mostly dark; if there were lights, they were obscured by walls, giving the impression of a lurking beast in the shadows.

 

Chen Qiu smiled embarrassedly. “His Excellency is loyal and toils tirelessly for the empire. He must not have returned home yet.”

 

“He wasn’t at the Ministry of Rites today.”

 

Fengbing spoke without much thought, as if he no longer put great importance on his former husband, but there was a peculiar familiarity in his words. Chen Qiu did not know how to respond, and Fengbing, realising his mistake, lowered his gaze.

 

Sometimes, that he had divorced Pei Dan would slip his mind. Had they not divorced, Pei Dan would not have reached the high position of Prime Minister of the Secretariat-Chancellery. However, after these monotonous five years, his sentiments had dulled. The winds and fog of the Nanling Mountains were cold, and the towering peaks were always in his view, reminding him of his place. Sometimes, Pei Dan and Prince Youke seemed nothing more than figments of a past life. Yet when he spoke, it still sounded as if he cared.

 

This bothered him. So too did he drink, and on the way back, the two drunk men held onto each other to stay upright, their daytime differences forgotten. Babbling nonsense back and forth at each other, they stumbled through the moonlight back to the courtyard, where Fengbing finally bid farewell to Chen Qiu.

 

Quiet surrounded him now. Turning around and seeing the stream under the veranda, he felt playfulness arise. He lifted his robe, bent his knees slightly, and leapt over it. Landing shakily, he regained his footing and turned back again, looking smugly at the water.

 

Not bad at all. Even drunk, he had made it across.