Chapter 10#

Quiet Solitude and Joy#

The instant the carriage curtain fell, Fengbing could no longer hide his weary expression. He leaned against the carriage wall, staring into space.

Chen Qiu, seeing his state, asked cautiously, “Li Langjun… how did he end up at Prime Minister Pei’s door?”

Fengbing considered his words before answering, “I was just taken care of the day before yesterday. I went to thank him.”

Chen Qiu let out an “Oh,” leaned back into his seat, then after a long pause couldn’t hold himself back: “You understand you shouldn’t be mingling with high officials, don’t you? If the Emperor finds out about this—”

“I won’t see him again,” Fengbing said softly. “Regarding today’s matter, if the Emperor wishes to inquire, you need only tell the truth.”

Chen Qiu said awkwardly, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Whether that was truly what he meant or not, only he himself knew. Fengbing turned his face away indifferently.

The reigning Emperor’s taboo name was Feng Tao—his second brother. His temperament was steady and magnanimous. The second brother’s maternal clan had once been convicted and executed; he had no support whatsoever at court. Yet by sheer force of his character, he had drawn many friends to his side. Among the Ten Princes’ Residences, it was always the second brother’s courtyard that was the liveliest. But all of that was in the past.

Now, Pei Dan said, the Emperor was a suspicious man.

A year ago, while Fengbing was in Laozhou, there had been a day when the local government opened its granaries, the county prison granted a general amnesty, and every commoner received a share of rewards, their faces beaming with joy. Only then did he learn that the new Emperor, having ascended the throne not long before, had also designated the Crown Prince and held the investiture ceremony. The Emperor was thirty-five, with only this one young son—everyone could see how he doted on him.

Fengbing had once been favored for a time when he was young. When he was born, his mother, Consort Qi, was the woman most graced by imperial favor in the palace. His father, the late Emperor, would stay at night after night at the Ripple Hall, and together with his mother, dote on him in the cradle. At that time—according to what his mother later told him—there were even whispers at court that the Emperor intended to replace the Crown Prince. But an emperor’s heart wanders quickly. When Fengbing fell gravely ill at the age of three, leaving behind the root of a chronic lung ailment, his father stopped coming, and the ministers who had once fawned on them all turned their backs one after another. To win back the sovereign’s heart, his mother would force him to sit back in the cradle like an infant and spin a rattle drum for him—clang clang, clang clang—even though he could already speak, she made him shut his mouth. Later he thought that was wrong. If he had grown up and sought to please his father, then his mother should have had him read more, become learned and versed in the classics, like Pei the top scholar—perhaps then his mother wouldn’t have died—

At fifteen, he moved out of Ripple Hall and into the Ten Princes’ Residences, gradually growing distant from his mother. The following winter, word reached him suddenly that she had contracted a plague from outside the palace walls. No one was permitted to go visit her, and in the end, he never learned how his mother died.

He had once told Pei Dan: You placed high in the metropolitan examination, your name inscribed on the Wild Goose Pagoda. Your father and mother must be enormously proud of you.

But Pei Dan only smiled: Aren’t you proud?

Fengbing stared blankly: What?

Pei Dan then withdrew his smile, as though it were something he could scarcely spare: Both my parents are gone. What is there to be proud about?

Fengbing did not know why so many far-flung thoughts had come to him. Perhaps it was because he had just come from Pei Dan’s residence—a great matter in his heart had settled to rest, yet no one else could see it, and he needed some other diversion. The carriage was sealed tight on all four sides, but he felt cold. The swaying and jolting felt like the long journey of his exile from Chang’an to Laozhou—four thousand five hundred li, an endless road.

Though his mother had been mad, Fengbing still remembered her embrace—a soft embrace that forgave everything. Later, Pei Dan would also hold him, but very tightly, often squeezing the breath out of him. Pei Dan’s chest was hard, yet scorching warm. Each time Fengbing coughed at night, Pei Dan’s right arm, draped around him, would pat his back, while his left hand would stretch out to reach the tea at the bedside to feed him—the tea was always kept ready…

“—Langzhu? Langzhu!”

Who was calling him?

Chunshi’s anxious face swam before his eyes, gradually coming into focus. Fengbing wanted to answer, but his throat was so dry and hoarse that no words came out. Chunshi quickly pressed him down, set aside the teacup in his hand, then lowered his voice and said, as though terrified: “Langzhu, the Emperor has come to see you!”

Fengbing looked around and realized he was already lying in bed in his room at the guest residence.

He slowly retraced his thoughts—yesterday he had ridden back in Chen Qiu’s carriage, passed an uneventful day, then fallen asleep—and now— the sun was high in the sky.

Chunshi was worried: “Did you catch a chill while you were out?”

Fengbing drank some tea to moisten his throat, then said slowly: “Did I say anything in my sleep?”

Chunshi hurriedly replied: “No, nothing like that.”

Fengbing asked again: “Where is the Emperor?”

Chunshi’s expression was strange: “In the courtyard. The Emperor came first thing this morning, flew into a rage, and all the envoys are kneeling out there in droves.”

“Why?” Fengbing frowned.

“The Emperor said they bullied you.”

Fengbing pressed his lips together, his brow furrowing into deep creases. He threw off the quilt, and with Chunshi’s help got out of bed. He felt weak, but it was bearable. He changed into clean clothes and went out to greet the imperial visit.

Just as Chunshi had said, in the snow beneath the paulownia tree in the courtyard, over a dozen tribute envoys were kneeling. The Emperor, draped in a black dragon cloak embroidered with gold, stood with his back to them, delivering a reprimand.

“…Even as a commoner, his bloodline is still connected to mine—he is of golden branches and jade leaves. How dare you treat him so callously?! Feng Cheng, step forward.”

Feng Cheng shuffled forward on his knees, his body trembling slightly.

The Emperor turned around, but caught sight of Fengbing first, and his eyes lit up: “Fourth Brother!”

This single “Fourth Brother” truly cost Fengbing years of his life. He knelt down straight-backed, eyes cast down, and said properly: “Commoner Li Fengbing pays his respects to Your Majesty. May Your Majesty live long and prosper without end.”

Hurried footsteps crushed through the snow. Li Feng Tao reached out with both hands to help him up: “We brothers need not stand on such formalities. I heard that tribute goods were stolen from the guest residence—originally not a serious matter—who knew it would implicate Fourth Brother. I was uneasy, so I came to check.”

Pei Dan had claimed he wouldn’t dare report this matter to the Emperor, but the Son of Heaven’s eyes and ears were remarkably sharp—news that had already spread through the Three Departments was not something he could contain. Fengbing gloated to himself, as though the matter had nothing whatsoever to do with him.

But he refused to stand: “Your Majesty, this commoner is guilty.”

“What?” The outstretched hands found nothing to grasp. The Emperor narrowed his eyes slightly.

“This commoner has endured five years of poverty and hardship. I was envious of the wealth and splendor of the capital, and in a moment of delusion, committed theft—stole items belonging to Pei… Prime Minister Pei. The case records are complete, and the Dali Temple has already concluded the case.”

The Emperor studied him for a long moment, then gave a soft chuckle: “I thought it was something major. If Prime Minister Pei doesn’t mind, what do I have to mind?”

The words were deliberately ambiguous. Fengbing’s face flushed crimson, then paled. With humiliation gnawing at him, he bit his lip. The Emperor took two steps to the side, facing the tribute envoys, and said unhurriedly: “You have all come from afar, braving wind and dust—I bear your efforts in mind. But I also hope you remember: behind you stand the officials and commoners of entire prefectures and circuits. Your words and conduct in the capital must not be taken lightly, lest you implicate your entire prefecture or circuit. The loss of tribute goods from Jiannan Circuit—ordinarily, nothing serious. But filing a report in a case of sedition—that borders on false accusation. Feng Cheng, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Feng Cheng’s head snapped up, his eyes nearly bloodshot as they fixed on the Emperor. No one had ever dared to do such a thing. The eunuch beside the Emperor immediately kicked him to the ground, forcing him to sprawl in the snow.

“I… I—” Not knowing what vital spot he’d been kicked in, Feng Cheng writhed in pain. “I know my guilt! I know my guilt!”

“Fourth Brother,” the Emperor said, shifting again to a gentle tone as he addressed Fengbing, “What punishment do you think Feng Cheng deserves?”

Fengbing said quietly: “This commoner does not understand the law, and dare not presume to opine.”

The Emperor let out an “Mm-hm” that was half-cold, half-amused. “Take him away.”

Feng Cheng’s pleas for mercy and cries faded into the distance. The Emperor smiled and offered a few reassuring words to everyone in the courtyard, then finally prepared to leave. Everyone silently breathed a collective sigh of relief. But then the Emperor suddenly turned back and asked Fengbing, still kneeling on the ground: “It seems Fourth Brother isn’t feeling well. Might I ask—who did you see yesterday?”

Fengbing’s teeth clenched together, and a sour ache spread through them. He lowered his gaze.

The Emperor smiled with tolerant indulgence: “You and Pei Yunwang were once husband and wife, and it has been a long time since you met. It’s only natural—you were overcome with feeling. I can understand. But he is, after all, now my chief minister. You mustn’t try to spirit him away to Laozhou.”

This remark plunged the entire courtyard, with its swirling snow, into silence once more.

No one dared to move. No one dared to speak. Fengbing knelt there rigidly, unable even to utter the words this commoner would not dare. The wind, thick with snowflakes, struck his face like a series of slaps—cold and sharp with pain. Before his eyes, overlapping images swam and multiplied.

He forced himself to think rationally—had he been wrong? Should he simply not have gone to deliver gifts to Pei Dan… The moment that man was involved, he would inevitably be humiliated.

Li Feng Tao laughed lightly and walked toward the exit. Deputy Palace Attendant Yuan Jiulin moved forward to help Fengbing up, but caught the Emperor’s raised voice: “If he likes kneeling, let him kneel.” Yuan Jiulin withdrew his hand at once, as though struck by lightning.

The Son of Heaven’s procession departed for the palace. All the envoys at the guest residence filed out to see them off, then returned—to find Fengbing still kneeling in the courtyard.

Chen Qiu, amid the crowd, wanted to step forward and say something, but someone beside him tugged at his sleeve.

“That is an imperial decree.”

In the end, Chen Qiu could only walk silently past Fengbing.