Chapter 2: CH 2

Chapter Two

How could an imperial consort, especially one who had been sentenced to death, possess the audacity to directly address the Emperor by his given name?

And, why did the Emperor visit the prison cells?

The events unfolding in this snowy night suddenly became very strange.

Despite his wounds, these intrusive thoughts caused Zhang Jin to momentarily forget his discomfort. He looked in the direction of the silk curtains.

A quiet voice issued from within. ‘Could you spare this man?’

‘Reason,’ said the Emperor.

‘He meant to stop them.’

‘Oh?’ The faint traces of a smile crossed the Emperor’s features. ‘One man against ten? He overestimates himself. He deserves to die.’

Deserves to die. The Emperor’s words echoed powerfully in the four walls of the prison cells. Zhang Jin’s heart seized, and he could not help the curl of his fingers, clenching into a fist.

Outside, the snowstorm increased in its intensity, causing those silk curtains to furl up, creasing gently, like ripples cascading across the unmarred surface of a pond.

Behind the curtains, Nian Xuanji smiled faintly. ‘Your Majesty seems to have a point.’

Zhang Jin was stupefied. He could not fathom the meaning behind Consort Nian’s words, yet he heard her continue, ‘In the fifteenth year of your reign, Zhang Jin was a scholar whose title was you personally conferred.’

The Emperor’s expression remained unchanged. ‘If that is so, why is he running errands here?’

‘Mr. Zhang is an honest and upright person. If I were to make a guess, Mr. Zhang has likely refrained from the usual political practices of the imperial court, perhaps offending someone.’

‘It is tradition to form and join political factions. Why should he alone maintain his principles and refuse to act in accordance to the norm? He deserves to die.’ The Emperor narrowed his eyes, his voice cooling.

From the moment where the Emperor first entered the cells, his voice had always remained amiable. At this instant, however, this same voice was sharp, possessing a hint of steel. Zhang Jin could not help the shiver spreading through his body.

A light laughter sounded from Prince Lingrui.

The youth dressed in green, Qingfeng, was standing in the shadows; the head attendant, Eunuch Xu, was standing by the Emperor’s side, his head tilted down. Zhang Jin could not see their faces. Yet Long Zijin’s sudden laugh made his heart seize once more, as though a silent protest to the laughter mocking his foolishness. He flushed.

In a voice tinged with exasperation, Nian Xuanji said, ‘Every word spoken by Your Majesty seems to be carry wisdom. What should we do now?’

Zhang Jin gritted his teeth. Abruptly, he turned to face those curtains and kowtowed three times, his head knocking against the cold floor. Slowly, he said, ‘I am deeply thankful of Your Highness’s grace. Only, my life is destined to end here today. If there is a next life, I will surely repay your kindness.’

The sigh which issued from the woman was quiet, yet it held the traces of a smile. ‘Since I have accepted your gratitude, I suppose I have to do something.’

These words, once spoken, caused a sudden, apprehensive hope to swell within Zhang Jin’s heart. In the next moment, however, he could not help the bitter laughter that issued from him. Did Consort Nian forget that she, too, faced an imminent death? How could such a person save his life? Wasn’t this amusing?

Laughter subsiding, he felt a sudden tingle in his scalp, as though pierced by a person’s stare. Dimly, he noted that the glare belonged to Qingfeng – but why? He furtively cast a glance in the direction of that youth, only to see that the corners of Qingfeng’s mouth were curved in a cold smile.

Zhang Jin clenched his trembling fingers.

Long Fei-li was standing in front of him, his hands clasped behind his back. The snowstorm enveloping the cells increased in their intensity, causing that resplendent yellow robes to flutter in the wind, but the man himself remained unmoving.

A sudden urge to peep at the Emperor’s expression swelled within Zhang Jin, but he was too afraid to do so.

In a flash, the entire prison seemed to have quietened down. Only the low exhalations issuing from the few prison guards heaving their last breaths of life interrupted the still silence.

At this moment, Nian Xuanji finally said, ‘Eunuch Xu, as I am unable to leave the cell, could I trouble you to come over and retrieve an item from me?’

‘Yes!’ Eunuch Xu assented, yet he remained rooted in place. His only movement was a slight turn of his body to face Long Fei-li.

Long Fei-li smiled. ‘Xu Xi, do you intend to disobey Consort Nian’s order?’

‘No.’

A flurry of movements, and Xu Xi moved to stand before the iron bars of the cells. On the floor, Mou Quan, whose body had curled in on himself, hurriedly unfolded upon seeing Xu Xi. Desperately, Mou Quan dragged himself to the side. Blood spewed forth from his wounds, staining the silk curtains a vibrant red.

From beneath the curtains, a slender hand extended.

Zhang Jin’s heart thumped uneasily, but Xu Xi’s body was inclined away from him, shielding the object from his line of sight.

‘Your Majesty.’ Xu Xi, who obtained the item, bowed, and presented it to the Emperor.

It was a small parcel, wrapped in cloth.

‘Consort Nian’s possession seems to be remarkably fascinating.’ Long Zijin smiled faintly, yet his voice carried a hint of ridicule.

Zhang Jin looked up to see the Emperor’s eyes fixed on the parcel. Yet he was unable to fathom the expression in Long Fei-li’s eyes.

‘Xu Xi, open the parcel.’

Many nights later, with the passage of several years after this bitterly cold New Year’s Eve, Zhang Jin would once again be reinstated to his position of power within the imperial court. On one of these nights, in this far-off future, he would visit a brothel, and, uncaring of the gossips and rumours his actions would certainly generate, throw down a large sum of money in exchange for a stunning courtesan. At that time, his mind would only be gripped with the slightly annoyed words that had issued from that beautiful woman: ‘What should we do now?’

Indeed.

It was a similar voice; a similar tone.

Yet it was all that was needed to consume his thoughts, to drive him insane.

***

Within the cloth-wrapped parcel was a swath of silk, and paper.

Paper and silk.

That silk was a colour identical to the robes worn by Long Fei-li, as though, perhaps, they were cut from the same cloth, dyed by the same vat. It was a radiant colour, enchanting to the eyes.

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The silk was a brilliant yellow; the paper white as snow; etched onto them was the imprint of a silver dragon in the clouds. There were no words on the paper, only the mark of a seal.

The mark of the Emperor’s imperial jade seal.

Zhang Jin understood immediately that this item could not be commonplace, but even as struggled to identify that mysterious object reminiscent of an imperial edict, Long Zijin had already exclaimed, ‘This is our forefathers’ iron scroll!’

In an instant, silence enveloped the cells.

Shocked, Zhang Jin did not notice the expressions of the others in the room, twisted into a similar look of surprise. His own thoughts were in disarray from the sudden turn of events brought about by this shocking revelation.

The iron scroll was the most prestigious item the Emperor could bestow upon his favoured official. Yet, unless an utmost meritorious service was made – such as a military commander who managed, time and time again, to emerge victorious in hard-won battles – such an item would ordinarily not be awarded, even to the highest-ranking Ministers.

This was an item which boasted the unrivalled glory and honour conferred by the Emperor. A legendary item, it was coveted by all, for its favoured owner had the power to escape death, no matter how heinous a crime committed. Since the dawn of this new dynasty in Xi Liang, in the several hundreds of years that has since passed, this legendary item had only been bestowed twice in history – once, to the Great General who fought to carve out this new empire alongside the dynasty’s founder.

This iron scroll, flawless like white jade, enabled its owner to extract a promise from the Emperor.

An Emperor’s promise – what did it even mean?

‘Ninth brother,’ Long Zijin said in a trembling voice. ‘You have bestowed this to Xuanji?’

Although Long Zijin usually appeared to be an easy-going person, he was also an astute individual who was quietly mindful of his words and actions. Only in this unexpected moment of shock did he make a slip of the tongue to address Consort Nian directly by her given name.

Long Fei-li did not look at the iron scroll. Instead, his impassive gaze was fixed upon the swathes of white curtains. He said, ‘Nian Xuanji – if today I wished to kill a rat that you have taken fancy to, will you also use this scroll to save that wretched animal?’

Silence.

It was an aristocratic face, beautifully shaped, as though sculpted by God’s hands. The young Emperor’s lips were upturned in a faint smile, yet his eyes held no trace of warmth.

As the iron scroll fell to the floor, those white curtains fluttered gently in the winds, before falling to a drop.

Dust settled, and a figure slowly made its way forward.

Xu Xi, whose gaze had fallen to this iron scroll, suddenly remembered a series of events that happened during the sixteenth year of Emperor Qingjia’s reign. Back then, Nian Xuanji, who had commanded the devoted love of the Emperor, had been demoted to a palace slave after the failed rebellion orchestrated by her father, Minister Nian. Following her downfall, the new favourites in the Imperial Harem were Consort Hua, the Empress Dowager’s niece, as well as Consort Hui, daughter of the Commander General.

– flashback to 1 year ago –

Emperor Qingjia’s 16th year of reign. Imperial Palace. Jinluan Hall.

In usual fashion on this ordinary afternoon, the Emperor was perusing the documents that had been submitted by his officials.

Xu Xi stood to one side, ready to attend to the Emperor when needed.

A few servants entered to deliver tea. The person leading them was Consort Hui of Liuli Palace. Her lips were stretched in a beaming smile, her hands slender and porcelain. Demurely, she reached forward and passed a teacup over to Long Fei-li.

Long Fei-li took a small sip, and smiled. ‘This is a pot of good tea.’

‘Your Majesty, this tea originated from a tree in the mountains of my hometown. When spring arrives, the sweet fragrance they exude lingers in the air for many days. Only the best tea leaves are chosen, and to hasten their delivery to the palace, a great number of horses have been employed, many of which have died from overexertion.’

‘Your attentive care in this is remarkable.’

Long Fei-li closed the book of documents he had been reading and reached out, pulling Consort Hui into his embrace.

Demurely, Consort Hui settled into his arms, her body melding into his strong frame.

‘Your Majesty,’ she began. ‘Whose pot of tea do you prefer? This, or the ones that Xuanji has brewed for you in the past? I’ve heard that Xuanji often runs barefoot into the lotus ponds to collect their dewdrops before the sun has even risen.’

Indeed, such rumours have long spread across the palace. It was said that, in order to help the Emperor obtain the purest water for his tea, Nian Xuanji had sought the dewdrops of lilies in spring, lotuses in summer, chrysanthemums in autumn, and plums in winter. No matter the season, she remained resolute in her routine.

A smile stretched across Long Fei-li’s lips. ‘Hui’er,’ he said, ‘I detest the fragrance of flowers.’

Consort Hui was stupefied for a moment. In the next instant, she recovered her composure, a radiant smile plastered across her beatific face once again.

Oh, yes. How could she have forgotten? The once powerful and influential Minister Nian had already been executed, his daughter demoted to a palace slave. Even this was turn of events was considered merciful: back then, Long Fei-li had originally planned to execute Consort Nian along with her fallen clan. It took the Empress’ steadfast plea for mercy, kneeling for three days and three nights, for the young Emperor to spare her life.

The former days of favour the Emperor had showered on Consort Nian… in the end, it turns out the devotion was an illusion, driven by political motivations.

After all, when a chess game concludes, which chess master would be unwilling to dispose of his chess pieces?

And, at this present moment in time, Consort Hui was the one enjoying the favour of the Emperor. How could she have been so foolish as to compare herself to this disgraced woman?

As Long Fei-li’s broad palm reached into her robes, she could not help the soft whimper which escaped her. Shyly, her hands reached up to clasp his neck, yet the Emperor only said, ‘Mother has been feeling unwell lately. I heard that my consorts have arranged to visit her this afternoon?’

Surprised, Consort Hui could not understand the Emperor’s sudden change in topic, but she forced a smile, and replied, ‘I spoke with Consort Hua earlier. As I’ve already paid my greetings to the Queen Mother this morning, I thought that it would be all right for me to miss this afternoon’s gathering.’

Standing in the corner of the room, Xu Xi, who had been quietly observing the two, had a sudden thought: at this moment, all the imperial consorts were congregated in the Empress Dowager’s quarters, leaving the Emperor’s Jinluan Hall free from any interruption.  What an intelligent move by Consort Hui!

‘Mother should be expecting you.  How about this – I’ll accompany you.’

Consort Hui’s heart fluttered with happiness. Daintily, she bowed, and said sweetly, ‘Thank you for your favour, Your Majesty!’

To have the Emperor accompany her to the Empress Dowager’s quarters was a move symbolic of immeasurable favour – a suggestion which left her rejoicing.

The Empress Dowager had arranged for a small banquet at Lanxin Pavilion.

Under the soothing warmth of the sun, the blueish-green waters of the lake rippled gently.

As Consort Hui exited the imperial carriage, her eyes immediately fell upon the Empress Dowager, who was seated at the head of the long table. To her right sat the Empress, and lining the two sides of the table were the other concubines, arranged by their ranks.

Long Fei-li greeted the Empress Dowager.

Consort Hui, who had been standing next to him, watched coolly as the other consorts stood to greet the Emperor in a flurry of movement. Joy and pride welled in her heart.

Suddenly, Xu Xi’s brows furrowed as his eyes landed on a group of servants who were currently moving a heavy potted plant at one corner of the pavilion. His gaze fell on one of the servants, who was stumbling along, footsteps uneven, as though the person was enduring great discomfort.

Wasn’t that servant the former mistress of Fengjiu Palace – Nian Xuanji?

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