Chapter 49#

Red Mansions Veiled in Rain#

The Emperor hunted for two days, and then light rain began to fall near Mount Li.

Cold rain in the depths of winter is the most trying of all — worse than heavy snow sealing the mountains. The rain fell ceaselessly, drenching everything through, worming its way into the collar and sleeves of one’s clothes like insects. When the hunt ended, the Emperor’s mood had soured, and on the twelfth day of the first month, the imperial procession turned back toward the capital.

Feng Bing had no interest in the results of the nobles’ hunt. He had only vaguely heard that Chancellor Pei had fallen ill, and therefore had not managed to kill a single quarry, ranking last among the hunt’s participants and owing a fine as penalty. Upon returning to Chang’an, he told Chunti about this matter.

Chunti’s injuries had already improved a great deal. He had swept and tidied the small residence inside and out by himself, ready to welcome his master home. Hearing the news, Chunti laughed heartily. “Did Chancellor Pei really spend two whole days lying in his tent?”

“He did.” Feng Bing spoke with great conviction. “According to the imperial physician, his head aches, his shoulders ache, his legs and feet ache. If you ask me, is he really only twenty-five? He’s worse than those eighty-year-old men.”

Having forgotten who it was that could barely climb a mountain without gasping for breath, and who had been left in the dust by those eighty-year-old men.

Chunti stopped laughing and gazed at Feng Bing with a somewhat strange expression. Feng Bing talking about Pei Dan in such a teasing, easygoing manner was exceedingly rare. After a long pause, Chunti still couldn’t help saying, “Chancellor Pei’s horsemanship and archery are formidable. He must simply be concealing his abilities — perhaps, being a man of many important duties, he still had official business to attend to up on the mountain?”

Feng Bing raised an eyebrow, about to retort, when someone from outside reported that the officials from Laozhou had come to request an audience with the young master.

Feng Bing was taken aback.

The delegation from Laozhou had lost its leader, the court-attending envoy Xiang Chong, but they had nonetheless completed the entire tribute process. They had attended the New Year audience, deposited the tribute goods, and submitted their account ledgers. Though it was only the twelfth day of the first month, since Laozhou was remote and sparsely populated, they dared not delay, and were prepared to depart earlier than the other delegations.

Yet before leaving, they decided to come and bid farewell to Li Feng Bing first.

The highest-ranking member of the delegation was a county magistrate whose surname, Feng Bing recalled, was Han. The two men bowed to each other in the reception hall, then took their seats. Feng Bing ordered Chunti to bring out good tea.

Magistrate Han took a sip, set down his teacup, and looked out through the veil of rain beyond the hall with a worried expression, saying in a low voice, “During this month and more in the capital, we have been remiss in our duties toward Master Li. We hope Master Li will find it in his heart to forgive us.”

In truth, it was worse than remiss — for over a month, the two sides had practically been ignoring each other entirely. Feng Bing turned to face him, smiling. “Magistrate Han overstates the matter. We each simply had our own responsibilities.”

Magistrate Han said, “Now that we are about to leave, there are certain things I must speak to Master Li about in person.”

Feng Bing said, “Please speak freely, Magistrate Han.”

“Since the current Emperor ascended the throne, he replaced the military governor of Lingnan and the prefect of Laozhou. Master Li must surely be aware of this,” Magistrate Han said. “The officials who served before, in fact… were all very close to Chancellor Pei.”

Feng Bing was stunned. “What does this have to do with Chancellor Pei?” he asked in confusion.

Magistrate Han looked at him, clearly not understanding why he would ask such a thing. After thinking for a long time, he said carefully, “Laozhou, though remote and situated on the frontier, would never dare to disobey or neglect an imperial command.”

Imperial command. Feng Bing fell silent, carefully weighing the other man’s words.

“As for Master Li’s daily provisions in Laozhou, we officials always attended to them with the utmost care, but the matter was confidential, so we could not let you know. When the current Emperor ascended the throne and replaced the officials above us, but then also issued an edict summoning you back to the capital for an audience — we thought that perhaps the current Emperor also held you dear, and wished to… clear your name. So…”

Drops of rain pattered onto the roof beams and eaves, then fell into the water overflowing the steps before the hall, stirring up a fine mist.

“We followed our previous instructions to look after you, but never expected that Prefect Xiang Chong… would die because of it.”

Feng Bing closed his eyes and sorted through his thoughts before speaking. “Magistrate Han’s meaning is that it was because I provoked the Emperor’s displeasure that Prefect Xiang met such a tragic end?”

Magistrate Han held his teacow in silence.

What a masterful move — beating the grass to scare the snake. Feng Bing thought. He had been interrogated by Feng Cheng the moment he arrived at the official residence, and none of the others had given him a pleasant reception either. Perhaps they had all seen through the Emperor’s intentions, and only he had been kept in the dark. After enduring a long stretch of silence, he said with an expressionless face, “Feng Bing is a man guilty of a crime. It was never right that so many others should be implicated. That Magistrate Han has come specifically to tell me all this today — are you not afraid of drawing fire upon yourself? Then Feng Bing would feel even more guilty.”

Magistrate Han took a sip of tea and sighed. “We are all compelled by our duties and dare not speak of noble integrity. But Master Li came to the capital together with us. Today we must at least ask Master Li — are you willing to return with us?”

Feng Bing was startled. His fingers were scalded by the teacup and he yanked them back. A rush of cold air slipped into his throat, and he burst into a fit of coughing.

Chunti hurriedly came to soothe his breathing and offer him tea. Feng Bing, feeling ashamed, waved him away. He had never anticipated that the people of Laozhou would still be willing to take him back — or rather, after barely more than a month in Chang’an, he already felt that he could not return.

Magistrate Han said, “Laozhou is admittedly a harsher place, but it is within the Five Degrees of Kinship nonetheless — a civilized region. As long as Master Li is willing, we will take you back. You could find a way to withdraw from worldly affairs, leave everything in Chang’an behind, and that would be a path forward, would it not?”

Magistrate Han’s face showed a weariness that belied his years, and his tone was one of earnest, well-meaning persuasion. Yet the more he spoke, the more mortified Feng Bing felt — because he had indeed harbored such thoughts himself. Now that they had all been pierced through, he saw they had been nothing but fleeting bubbles.

“…I no longer have that path,” he said softly.

Magistrate Han said, “Think it over carefully. Laozhou is remote and desolate, with high mountains and long rivers. Once this moment passes, you may never have the chance to return.”

But Feng Bing did not want to think about it. He knew all too well that if he let himself consider it, he might very well grow weak again, and the vast winds sweeping across the Five Ridges would become his excuse to flee. But he could not leave.

Why he could not leave — he did not want to examine too closely.

He rose to his feet and bowed to Magistrate Han, thanking him for his kindness. Magistrate Han set down his teacow and, returning the bow, sighed once more.

“I expected it would not be easy,” he said. “But once we leave this year, the Emperor will never again —”

“Is this…” Feng Bing suddenly raised his head. “Is this Chancellor Pei’s idea?”

Magistrate Han’s mouth went abruptly silent.

“As I thought.” Feng Bing paced several steps across the hall, agitated. He remembered now — what Yuan Jiulin had said.

— “Chancellor Pei understands you. He will find a way to let you go.”

Fine, gossamer threads of rain drifted in, clinging to the hem of his robe and tugging at his shoes. To keep himself from biting his fingernails in a nervous tic, he had to pull his sleeve down over his hand. He could not lose his temper in front of Magistrate Han — the man was merely carrying out the Chancellor’s orders, out of nothing but goodwill. He turned the matter over and over, like a headless fly shut in the rain, until finally all he could manage was a stiff: “I won’t go.”

His tone suggested he was not speaking to Magistrate Han at all, but rather to a detestable, imaginary Pei Dan.