Chapter 27#

Having drawn this conclusion, Feng Bing thought, he ought to feel at ease.#

His face pale, he closed his eyes. His hand rested on the lacquer box, as if seeking support for himself.

But it could not support him. The night wind wound around the brocade screen, chilling him all over. A restless emotion gradually rose in his chest; it was close to anger.

He had never wanted to face Pei Dan with this emotion—it was undignified. But he could not help it. Anger forced out his coughs. “Clatter,” “thud”—noisy sounds rang out in succession; more than twenty lacquer boxes all toppled down, piling at his feet. He coughed until he bent double, yet saw that behind the lacquer boxes there was a very large plaque.

He covered his mouth with a cloth and looked through muffled coughs. The plaque had an imperial mounting, and on it were written four vigorous large characters: “All Loyal and Virtuous.”

It was an imperial plaque he had heard of but never actually seen. It had been thrown into a corner of the study, covered in dust.

Beside the imperial plaque were also several stacks of thick documents and paper rolls. Feng Bing glanced casually; some had red feathers inserted, seeming to be urgent war proclamations from the battlefield, but all had been burned, their edges and corners covered with scorch marks. Most were dated in the thirteenth year of Yongzhi—the year Pei Dan lost his parents.

Feng Bing knew he should not look anymore. Even in the past, when their love was deepest, he had never inquired about Pei Dan’s parents. Moreover, before him, Pei Dan was always a gentle, amiable, brilliant, and romantic young man. He had guessed that perhaps his parents died too early, but it would not have left him too deep a wound.

He finally stood straight. The anger from moments ago folded once and strangely subsided. He felt he could once again numb himself and seal off the door to his heart, and he let out a breath of luck for that. He ought to go back. To begin with, why had he charged in so aggressively? In the end he had run into a cold rebuff. Pei Dan was not there; only he was struggling without knowing his own weight.

He was just about to turn around when someone suddenly walked to the study door and shouted warily, “Who’s there!”

Feng Bing was startled. Before he could go out, Uncle Wu had already stepped in first. Seeing it was him, the old man’s tensed expression relaxed. “So it’s Young Master Li. This old servant saw the door open and thought…”

Feng Bing’s face burned as if on fire. Barging into someone’s residence in the middle of the night was truly contemptible. Even if Uncle Wu did not finish, he knew he would be likened to a thief. He apologized repeatedly. Uncle Wu only waved a hand; instead he came over to apologize to him: “This study is too messy! Chancellor Pei simply treats it like a storeroom…” While clearing the path beside the desk, he tried to help Feng Bing out. “Young master, have you come to see Chancellor Pei? He is still handling matters in the palace; he likely won’t be back for a while. How about I tell him…”

“No, there’s no need.” Feng Bing said hurriedly. He thought Uncle Wu’s words probably were not sincere; he and Pei Dan had nothing much to say anyway. So he also helped tidy the fallen lacquer boxes. Uncle Wu saw the imperial plaque revealed behind them, and his expression turned grave.

Feng Bing awkwardly found a topic. “This imperially bestowed great plaque—I have never seen it before either…”

“Mm.” Uncle Wu said heavily. “The master is unwilling to hang it out.”

Feng Bing asked without thinking, “Why?”

“Do you want to know, young master?” Uncle Wu asked quietly in return.

Feng Bing was slightly startled. “Of course…”

“This old servant thought young master did not want to know.” Uncle Wu smiled. “Since that is so, I will tell you.”

Such roundabout talk made Feng Bing impatient. He set the last lacquer box in place, covering the large characters on the imperial plaque.

Uncle Wu slowly said, “In the eleventh year of Yongzhi, General Pei… I mean, the master’s father, followed Crown Prince Youke on a campaign against Goguryeo. After he died, the court gave only this one plaque. The Pei family once sought to obtain additional honors or establish a shrine, but all were refused. As for the reason, it was likely to avoid the general’s merits being raised too high, which would diminish Crown Prince Youke’s prestige… and would also make the court and common people grow suspicious—suspicious that the general’s death was connected to the Crown Prince—of course, at that time the Crown Prince was arrogant and powerful, and no one dared say such a thing aloud.”

To Feng Bing, these words were all heard for the first time. He looked at Wu Zhiheng; even this old servant who had accompanied Pei Dan for more than twenty years, he seemed never truly to have noticed before.

Why did Wu Zhiheng say these things?

—It was himself. Why had he asked?

“General Pei also became famous young. He was originally the person in the Pei family most likely to rise high, but he fell in a single morning…” Wu Zhiheng bowed and invited Feng Bing to walk out, his voice as flat as idle family chatter. “Even his corpse could not be brought back. The mistress could not bear the blow and soon died of illness. Only the master was left, just five years old, keeping vigil alone before this plaque.”

The Pei clan of Hedong had the merit of following the dragon since the founding of this dynasty. By now they were a century-old distinguished clan. Talents came intermittently, but their dignity remained ample.

General Pei was the outstanding talent raised in this generation of the Pei family. At the age of thirty he already commanded the Left Xiaowei, and everyone in the Pei family relied on his official career. Before departing on the campaign, he had returned home and told his wife that the emperor had personally promised that if he returned in triumph this time, he would be allowed to command the Six Guards of the Northern Yamen—those were the emperor’s personal troops.

Yet the war in Goguryeo dragged on. This trip lasted nearly two years, and little Pei Dan grew from three to five. Occasionally military reports came from the front, but most concerned the supervising Crown Prince Fengchen. Pei Dan and his mother could only read between the lines to find news of General Pei.

In July of the year Pei Dan turned five, the Crown Prince returned in triumph. He had taken two cities of Goguryeo, obtained a promise of tribute, and also brought back the coffins of a hundred thousand soldiers.

General Pei had no coffin, because it was said that after death his body had been trampled by enemy soldiers and was incomplete; the Crown Prince could not bear to bring him back.

The imperial edict was sent to Taiyuan. Everyone in the Pei clan knelt before the government office to receive it, and Madam Pei knelt at the very front with her five-year-old son. Before the edict, Madam was dignified and presentable, but after returning she fell gravely ill. At first visitors came in an endless stream; later even visitors disappeared. Only Madam’s two dowry maids, and the little master brought along by Wu Zhiheng, cared for her day and night at her sickbed.

A month later, Madam also passed away.

During this month, Wu Zhiheng never saw Pei Dan cry. The child seemed to have gone foolish. He had originally been the pearl in his parents’ palms, spoiled and doted on. During this month he did not even know to change when his clothes were dirty; his hair was messy like a bird’s nest. He still pressed close to Madam’s bed, offering the nine-linked rings he had finally solved for her to see. Madam did not speak, only raised a withered hand to touch his head, as if wanting to smooth his hair, but in the end she had no strength.

The little master was probably very surprised. In the past, when he solved the nine-linked rings, Madam would always hug and kiss him, praise him endlessly, and make him something tasty. He wondered if he had not done well enough. So he moved all the schoolwork assigned by his tutor into Madam’s bedroom. Every day he stood on a small stool, diligently spreading out each sheet of newly practiced calligraphy at Madam’s bedside. But by then Madam could no longer even open her eyes.

The little master ran over with pattering steps and asked Wu Zhiheng: Can’t Mother see? All my many characters—can’t she see them?

Wu Zhiheng did not answer him. At that time his own mood was very bad. Though the little master was small, he already knew how to read expressions. He blinked, then softly asked again: Then can she hear?

This time he no longer waited for Wu Zhiheng’s answer; he went to Madam’s bedside and recited books himself. He had originally been studying the simplest Analects and Classic of Filial Piety, but after reciting a few passages, he noticed Madam only listened silently. He guessed Madam did not like them, so he pestered his tutor to learn what Madam liked. The tutor thought for a long while and said, “The three hundred poems are free of depravity; perhaps Madam likes to hear the Book of Songs.” The little master then went straight to learning the Book of Songs, reciting from the beginning. Just as he recited, “A modest, retiring maiden, a good mate for a gentleman,” Madam laughed.

Wu Zhiheng thought Madam must be laughing at him—what does a five-year-old child know of a modest, retiring maiden? But the little master was overjoyed. He decided Madam loved hearing this, so he held the book and recited on. Yet before he could even finish Zhou Nan, the month had reached its end.

When Madam Pei died, Wu Zhiheng was at her bedside. Her face had just been washed, her long hair spread over her shoulders, her eyes bulging as she stared at him, her mouth making hoarse sounds, all tuneless breath. Wu Zhiheng bent down and listened hard, only hearing Madam Pei say: “The Crown Prince… the Crown Prince harmed him!”

Her final tone suddenly rose high, and the word “him” broke off in the cool air of early September. As soon as Wu Zhiheng heard this great secret, he was so frightened that he retreated again and again. Looking around in panic, he saw Pei Dan lying at the window.

Behind the child the sky was vast and high. A sudden gust of wind blew past; several fallen leaves drifted down from the old tree in the courtyard and fell into his bird’s-nest-like hair. He struggled to prop himself up on the windowsill with both hands, revealing a dirty little face, a pair of black eyes clear to the bottom staring down at his mother.

He must have heard.

He still did not know what death was, yet he already knew what it looked like to die with eyes unclosed.

He opened his mouth, and his childish voice suddenly began to recite: “The lin’s hoof, the noble prince’s son, ah, the lin!

“The lin’s brow, the noble prince’s kin, ah, the lin!

“The lin’s horn, the noble prince’s clan, ah, the lin!”

This was the last piece of Zhou Nan.

When the Son of Heaven learned that Madam Pei had died keeping her chastity, he bestowed a large plaque of golden-thread nanmu, inscribed with four large characters: “All Loyal and Virtuous.”

The night wind lingered low; many dim old shadows faded in the old man’s eyes.

He had thought of much, yet only fell silent for a while. Then he turned to Feng Bing and smiled. “Actually, when the master was little, he was very mischievous. The general and Madam once doted on him dearly, and he was clever too… When the two elders died, he was only five. Keeping vigil, the funeral procession, the burial, entering the ancestral hall—he completed all of it properly. When Madam was ill, he did not shed a single tear. I originally wondered, when it came time to set up offerings and wail, what would we do? But when the time for wailing truly came, he actually cried. Just as the books say, wailing with heartfelt grief, he made the whole clan and relatives cry along with him. Later the relatives even praised him, saying he knew when he ought to cry, and that he was a clever child.”

Feng Bing listened quietly.

“But I think that was still nothing. None of them had seen what the master was like when he was truly clever.” Wu Zhiheng gave another soft snort. “When he was just over one year old, once he climbed onto the incense table in the hall when no one was watching and knocked over the fruit plate. While the servants were busy picking things up, he actually pulled down the hanging ancestral scroll and rolled himself up into the unlit shrine—pretending to be a Bodhisattva! Aiya, afterward General Pei gave him a sound beating.”

The old man was sunk in memories, yet seemed to grow more spirited the more he spoke. He must have doted on Pei Dan very much, right? Feng Bing thought of that little dumpling pretending to be a Bodhisattva and could not help but chuckle.

Wu Zhiheng had not expected him to laugh too, and could not help raising his eyes in surprise. Feng Bing immediately stopped in embarrassment.

A child’s growing up is often but a matter of an instant.

After the general and his wife were buried, Pei Dan became an orphan in a great clan. He was never that mischievous again.

“The imperial plaque bestowed by the court could originally have won him some glory.” Wu Zhiheng sighed. After taking a long roundabout way, he finally answered Feng Bing’s original question. “But he never hangs it up publicly, for fear of offending Crown Prince Youke.”

Feng Bing was silent.

The Pei Dan in Uncle Wu’s story seemed too distant and unfamiliar. He felt this Pei Dan was pitiful and lovely, yet also felt this Pei Dan seemed to have no relation to him.

This was not the top scholar he knew, in fine clothes and on a spirited horse, so handsome that onlookers threw fruit until his carriage overflowed.

“…I did not know any of this.” He spoke softly, as if afraid of disturbing something. “He never told me.”

The wine had completely worn off. At this moment Feng Bing stood in the misty clouds of past events, at a loss. The snow was not falling heavily. It passed through the courtyard and over the walls; whimpering, the wind brushed his face, and his heart grew colder and colder.

His dreams did not connect with Pei Dan’s life; his joy could not be compatible with Pei Dan’s loneliness.

Uncle Wu glanced at the night. Although Feng Bing was wearing a cloak, the old man still went to find an umbrella and held it over him. After thinking, Uncle Wu smiled generously. “The master may have had his own considerations. You two were close at the time…”

Because they were close, he instead could not speak of it?

What sort of logic was that?

Feng Bing thought of Pei Dan’s questioning after their wedding leave: “Why did you go to the Crown Prince?” There was resentment in Pei Dan’s tone, and his eyes gleamed with fragile light, but at the time Feng Bing had not noticed.

He also thought of what the Emperor had said: Pei Yunwang and Crown Prince Youke had originally been sworn enemies…

“He hates His Majesty.” Feng Bing murmured. Uncle Wu did not hear. “Later, when the great treason case was investigated, he also had a hand in it.”

His expression was like that of a dying patient who had reached a dead end; perhaps only a tiny hint was needed for him to despair.

The title of this chapter is taken from Li Shangyin’s “Four Poems of Yan Terrace: Winter”: “The Qingxi and White Stone cannot gaze at each other; in the hall, they are far more distant than the wilds of Cangwu.” It compares the two people to the Qingxi Little Maiden and White Stone Boy, unable to gaze at each other, their distance as distant as the wilds of Cangwu. “Song of the Qingxi Little Maiden” and “Song of the White Stone Boy” each sing of love for their beloved, carrying a light, idle sorrow; yet they belong to different stories.

This is Thursday’s installment; Friday is a rest day~