Year 998 before the Ashen Wheel Era, Deep Waters period.
In the Grand Tutor's residence in Jinxiujing, the daylight was still beautiful.
In the courtyard, the branches of the large ginkgo tree sported a golden hue; a few scattered leaves sometimes fell onto the blue stone steps. The wind, blowing from the corridor, brought the light rustling of dry pear tree branches and lifted a corner of the window veil. Shadow and light projected diagonally between the small incense table and the bronze mirror, outlining silhouettes.
Wei, her head resting on her hand, sat before the mirror. The blue smoke rising from the incense burner with its swirling foliage patterns twirled near her temples. With a distracted gesture, she stuck a few flower pins into her hairstyle, glanced into the bronze mirror, and frowned slightly.
A moment later, she resolutely undid her chignon. Her long black hair cascaded down like a waterfall, concealing the whiteness of her nape.
She turned and called out: "Rong, help me do my hair like a man."
Dugu Rong responded and, taking a wooden comb and a fine silk cord, approached softly from behind her.
With familiar ease, she smoothed Wei's hair, separating it strand by strand to tie it, her fingers moving with extreme lightness. Wei stood straight, occasionally turning her head to look at herself in the mirror. This face with its soft lines, once styled in a man's fashion, acquired a kind of fine beauty and indomitable air.
"Do you think I look like my brother?" she suddenly asked.
Dugu Rong, without interrupting her movement, only replied in a neutral voice: "Three parts physical resemblance, seven parts a different spirit."
Wei let out a small laugh, but a slight moist sheen veiled her eyes. "If I were really a man, could I, like my brother, come and go freely, without fearing winds or storms?"
Dugu Rong remained silent for a moment, then said in a low voice: "Miss has the qualities proper to a young lady."
Barely had these words been spoken when Wei turned abruptly and placed her hand on Dugu Rong's face. Her palm was warm, her fingers caressing Rong's cheek, with a gesture both light and slow.
"Rong," she said, staring at her own reflection in the mirror, then, suddenly lowering her voice, with a hint of nonchalant teasing, "teach me then how to please men."
Dugu Rong's eyelashes fluttered; the silk cord she held slipped from her hands onto the table. She looked up at Wei, her lips parting slightly.
Wei slowly approached her. With slight apprehension, she brushed Rong's lips with her index finger, a contact so light, so ephemeral, like a fine early spring rain falling on the heart of a flower.
The air froze in an instant.
In the mirror, the two young girls looked at each other in silence. The younger one's features still retained a childlike innocence but already concealed a depth that did not belong to her age.
In the Liquan district, three winding alleys, each a hundred zhang long, snaked like dragons. The blue stone pavers, polished by time, reflected the twilight glow, diffusing a soft, warm sheen. Deep within these alleys, dozens of renowned inns and restaurants stood side by side, with their carved and vermilion-lacquered railings, their colorful banners fluttering in the wind. The NanQu and ZhongQu sections were the liveliest, where the sounds of stringed and wind instruments never ceased, and where the fragrance of wine perfumed the air.
What most caught the eye were those whitewashed walls, permeated with ink – they were entirely covered with traces of wild songs after drinking and poems calligraphed by a drunken hand. Some, written in a flamboyant script, expressed a boldness that touched the clouds; others, of a refined and melodious elegance, seemed to confide the secrets of the heart.
The shades of ink varied, layering one upon another.
This was the place for joyous feasts for the young nobles of Jinxiujing, and also the legendary alleys where literary talents and beauties sometimes met.
But today, there were two rather peculiar "young gentlemen."
Wei wore slightly loose men's clothing, a long, moon-white silk robe that the wind lifted slightly, shimmering with a soft glow under the last rays of the setting sun. She had deliberately rolled up her sleeves nonchalantly, revealing her slender wrists. Her gait was light, the hem of her robe fluttering in the wind, truly giving her the air of a free and elegant young man. She wandered among the walls of poems, her fingers sometimes brushing these calligraphies, now vigorous, now delicate, a glint of curiosity and mischief shining in her eyes.
Dugu Rong followed her. Although simply dressed, she could not conceal the aura of cold distinction that emanated from her. Her gait was assured, neither hurried nor slow, contrasting with the hustle and bustle of these lively alleys, yet harmonizing strangely with it.
The most reputable establishment in ZhongQu was an inn named the "Pavillon Xingyi."
The building was of refined architecture, the corners of its eaves upturned. Bamboo blinds hung before the windows, allowing vague qin melodies to filter through. Unlike the bustle of other places, this one exuded a certain elegance and was the preferred haunt of scholars and artists who truly appreciated refined pleasures.
Wei led Dugu Rong to the top of the building and leaned on the railing to gaze into the distance.
Twilight enveloped the city. The contours of Jinxiujing gradually faded in the glow of the setting sun; the lights of the districts lit up one after another, mingling with the floating clouds on the horizon, like a long brocade scroll slowly unfolding.
The sound of hooves was heard, approaching, tearing the silence of dusk.
Wei's eyes lit up. She rose on tiptoe to look, then burst out laughing and grabbed Dugu Rong's hand: "Rong, it's my brother and the others!"
She hadn't finished her sentence before she was already rushing down the stairs like a joyful fledgling, her robe-skirt fluttering in the wind, her laughter crystalline: "Quick! Let's hide and surprise him!"
Dugu Rong, slightly jostled, nevertheless maintained her usual composure, only an imperceptible smile playing on her lips.
As they ran, the wind brushed their clothes and hair. The gold pin Rong wore in her hair vibrated slightly and finally slipped out, falling silently into the grass below. A golden flash, and it immediately disappeared among the dark green leaves.
At the end of the Sleeping Frost decade, just before that of the Deep Waters, before the hundred flowers withered, one of these "Hundred Flowers Festivals" always had to be organized. The four corners of the hall were filled with flowers of all kinds, some stuck in celadon porcelain vases, others wrapped around vermilion-lacquered railings; a few branches of jasmine and michelia were even hung from the beams, exuding a subtle fragrance.
Zhang Huaiqian and Nangong Bo dismounted, entrusted the reins of their horses to the valet at the door, and entered just as the animation in the hall was at its peak.
The lanterns had just been lit. Paper and silk lanterns, hung high, descended slightly to shoulder height, swaying in the wind. Some improvised calligraphy, ink flowing freely; others composed poems in response, wits flashing. The entire hall was filled with flowing robes, gathering all the an Gentry of Jinxiujing.
Bai Xingjian held his brush and composed a poem before a bouquet of faded flowers. He had barely written "倚窗风摇影,馀香留绮窗 Leaning against the window, the wind sways her shadow; her fragrance lingers on the gauze window," when a young man beside him smiled and said: "This verse is elegant, but it lacks a little flavor." With that, he took his brush and added: "簪花不觉老,月夜且留芳.Wearing flowers without noticing age, may their fragrance linger under the night moon."
Rumor had it that the owner of the Pavillon Xingyi, nicknamed "Master Xing," was a former scholar of the imperial court whose writings had been banned. He had then left his post to go into business, buying this establishment at a high price. He never showed himself, sometimes merely passing comments and poetry themes through the paper windows of his pavilion. Everyone speculated about his identity and origin, but no one knew his true face.
Bai Xingjian, however, was one of the few who had access to his private residence. But he had always kept silent about it, never mentioning a single word about Master Xing, and so others had to content themselves with conjectures. He came from the prestigious Bai family of Jinxiujing, whose silk trade had earned them a considerable fortune. Gifted from a young age, he excelled in poetry, literature, music, and chess, but he despised the imperial examinations and official honors, considering scholastic erudition a straitjacket. His literary fame had nevertheless already spread among scholars. He had known Zhang Huaiqian for a long time; one, noble and respectful of conventions, the other, elegant and unconcerned with rites, had opposing temperaments but got along curiously well and maintained a deep friendship.
Today's meeting at the Pavillon Xingyi was a reunion among old friends, without formalities. Seeing Zhang Huaiqian and the other enter, Bai Xingjian put down his marten-hair brush still wet with ink, his wide sleeves sweeping across the poem papers on the table: "Brother Zijing, Brother Qingxuan. You are late. Look at this hall full of poetry and wine! The Hundred Flowers Festival at Pavillon Xingyi tonight is much livelier than the Lantern Festival on the fifteenth day!"
Zhang Huaiqian's gaze swept over the poems hanging from the beams. One of them, calligraphed in a flamboyant script, read: "一枝凌霄倚青云,斜影花开映水分.A branch of trumpet creeper leans on the azure clouds, its flowery shadow reflected on the water."
"Marvelous verse!" exclaimed Nangong Bo, clapping his hands.
The three men exchanged a smile and followed the serving boy who led them to a table on the side. Zhang Huaiqian picked up a brush and, after a moment of thought, swiftly wrote: "Let the mountains and rivers not say that beauty fades; may this night remain to share elegance."
Bai Xingjian burst into loud laughter and tossed a string of cash into the serving boy's hand.
The boy, all smiles, approached and said in a low voice: "Gentlemen, you've arrived at a good time. It is said that Lady Xue Yao is in town today; perhaps she will come later."
Zhang Huaiqian's eyes lit up. He took out another string of cash and slipped it into the boy's hand: "Then, have Lady Xue brought in."
The serving boy nodded repeatedly, his eyes crinkled with pleasure, and trotted off through the crowd.
Zhang Huaiqian turned to order wine. A jar of osmanthus wine was opened, releasing a fresh and delicate fragrance. He filled the three men's cups and raised his own: "Tonight, no constraints. Three jars of wine per person. We don't leave until we've drunk it all."
Nangong Bo feigned a frown: "Brother Zijing, three jars will be too much for me. If I finish one, I fear I'll lose all composure."
"Brother Qingxuan!" Bai Xingjian slapped the table, laughing. "Yet I've heard that Brother Zijing is not going home tonight. His father is not yet on leave; it's the perfect time to let loose!"
Zhang Huaiqian looked at him sideways, his wine cup pausing for a moment: "Brother Bai, are you better informed of my family's comings and goings than the dispatches from the Ministry of War? You even know my father's days off?"
"Far be it from me to make such a claim!" Bai Xingjian raised his cup to meet the reflection of the lacquered glass lanterns, the liquid in the cup shimmering with fine gold flecks. "Far be it from me! It was only this morning that I happened to glimpse the steward of your noble house shopping at the East Market."
As the three men raised their cups and laughed, the low-voiced conversations of some guests at the neighboring table suddenly reached their ears.
"...Have you heard? That former Crown Prince... was really executed."
The wine cup between Zhang Huaiqian's fingers stilled slightly. Bai Xingjian and Nangong Bo exchanged a look but said nothing.
The people at that table, seemingly unaware they were being listened to, grew animated in their conversation, and their voices gradually rose. One of them said in a low voice: "My youngest aunt's husband is a scribe at the Hanlin Academy. It is said that on that afternoon, the Crown Prince suddenly summoned several ministers to the Eastern Palace to discuss matters. Barely a moment later, soldiers in black armor burst in, sealed the East Gate, surrounded the South Garden, and even the Zhuhua Tower was cordoned off. Tell me, wasn't this premeditated for a long time?"
"Alas… That qin musician of the Crown Prince, Su Jing, he died recently too," sighed another. "They say his body was fished out of the river."
While everyone in the hall was toasting and exchanging cups, in the distance, near the wall of poems, Wei was laughing like a fox that had stolen a fruit. She grabbed Dugu Rong and quickly went around the corner of the wall to reach a secluded spot. She whispered: "From here, we can see them perfectly!"
Dugu Rong let out a slight sigh but allowed herself to be led, merely reminding her gently: "Don't joke too much. The young master is always very reserved; be careful he doesn't get truly angry."
Wei paid no heed: "Don't worry! Everything will be fine!"
However, Zhang Huaiqian, with his sharp eyes, had already spotted Dugu Rong and Wei near the pillar opposite. He narrowed his eyes slightly, and especially upon seeing the loose men's attire Wei was wearing, his face immediately darkened. He was about to get up to catch this scatterbrained sister when Bai Xingjian pulled him by the arm: "Brother Zijing, what are you looking at! Come! Another cup!"
He had to sit down again, his gaze continuing to sweep the distance, while Wei, as if nothing were amiss, maintained a perfectly relaxed demeanor.
Suddenly, he heard a light cough behind him. Zhang Huaiqian turned sharply and saw, much to his surprise, Chu Jin nonchalantly sitting down beside him. At that moment, it was as if a clap of thunder had exploded in Huaiqian's mind; his lips moved for a long moment, only managing to articulate a few confused sounds.
Bai Xingjian, sensing the strange atmosphere, raised an eyebrow looking at the newcomer. Chu Jin had already spoken with a smile: "My name is Qiongliang. My given name is Jin. I am a distant cousin of Brother Qingxuan, originally from the Xiling region. I have come to the capital to see the world. I am counting greatly on Brother Zijing's kindness."
Nangong Bo, surprised, nearly choked on his wine.
Bai Xingjian, hiding a smile behind his fan, declaimed in a slow voice: "Nangong Jin… an uncommon courtesy name. Is it the 'Jin' from this verse: 'Where the night rain turns the pages of books, the dream breaks at the nine enclosures of Jin'?"
Chu Jin tilted his head, smiling: "That is correct." He seemed entirely untroubled by Zhang Huaiqian's confusion, nonchalantly picked up a piece of dried peach from the table, and, while chewing, his smile radiant, lightly tapped Zhang Huaiqian's knee under the table.
The serving boy hurried over and, seeing Emperor Wenguang, asked with a broad smile: "Sir, what would you like to drink?"
Zhang Huaiqian, momentarily speechless, hastened to reply: "Uh… this gentleman should not drink alcohol."
The serving boy nodded. "Then, a pot of tea for the gentleman?"
Chu Jin made a slight gesture with his hand and replied with a smile: "No need, just give me a pitcher of fresh kumquat juice."
"Understood!" The serving boy trotted away happily.
Zhang Huaiqian's gaze was filled with helplessness and stupefaction. He said in a low voice: "You shouldn't have come here."
Chu Jin looked at him with a mischievous smile and retorted in a low voice: "Oh? Is this place forbidden to me? Why so?"
Zhang Huaiqian, at a loss for words, looked at him with obvious panic, not knowing what to say. He glanced around, his anxiety intensifying: "This place is ill-frequented…"
Chu Jin waved his hand and coughed lightly twice.
Huaiqian, seeing Chu Jin's slightly pale complexion, couldn't help but frown, a hint of concern in his voice: "Are you feeling better these past few days? Are you feeling unwell?"
"It's nothing, much better. Besides, I needed to get out for some fresh air."
The discussions at the neighboring table had not ceased. A slightly older man glanced sideways at the assembly and lowered his voice: "Let's leave aside private matters, let's talk about serious things – it is said that on that night, in the Eastern Palace, an entire cabinet of unlisted secret seals, secret maps, and also… copies of secret edicts were found."
"Secret edicts? What secret edicts?"
"It is said that they are copies of handwritten instructions left to the Crown Prince by the late Emperor when he was gravely ill, asking him to 'temporarily manage the affairs of the court'. But these copies were allegedly written later, even the annotations are said to be in the handwriting of people from the Eastern Palace."
"Meaning, they were forged?"
"Who knows the truth? But it is said that with this secret edict, the Crown Prince once ordered the mobilization of a troop – from the Imperial Guard – without referring to the Ministry of War, nor going through the Grand Secretariat."
"So… he really wanted to usurp the throne?"
At that moment, another person let out a small, contained laugh: "No, I rather heard that His Majesty had disliked the Crown Prince for a long time, and that the maternal family of Prince Rui is currently in favor. The Crown Prince's youthful indiscretions were not unknown, but during those years, His Majesty turned a blind eye. In reality, he had long since decided to replace him."
Another person added in a low voice: "It is said that on that night, it was the Pang family's troops who protected His Majesty, accompanied by a group of men from the Gönok king of the West. The next morning, at court, the edict of 'redesignation of the heir apparent' was proclaimed. Officials from the Ministry of War spent the night transcribing the golden registers, and seventeen proclamations were posted throughout the capital in one night."
"I heard a friend from the Ministry of Public Works say that on that night, the city gates were not closed."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that after the events of that night, it wasn't for fear that the Crown Prince would escape, but rather… for fear that supporters of the former Crown Prince within the court would rise up. If the imperial city gates had been closed, in case of trouble, reinforcements would not have been able to enter."
"So, tell me, this new Crown Prince… isn't he the former Prince Rui? Just the day before yesterday, it was said he was gravely ill, imperial physicians took turns at his bedside day and night. And yet, this morning, His Majesty summoned him alone for a private audience again. This affair is not ordinary."
Zhang Huaiqian glanced at Chu Jin, a glint of tension in his eyes, then, affecting nonchalance, smiled at the neighboring table: "Matters of the court, it's better to speak less of them. Our small lives hang by a thread before Yama, the king of hell."
Bai Xingjian, hearing this, raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated manner, his tone teasing: "Brother Zijing, how is it that you are so cautious today? Usually, when you discuss these things with us, you are full of enthusiasm and inexhaustible!"
Chu Jin, at these words, let a smile laden with implication float on his lips. His gaze, tinged with a slight mockery, turned towards Zhang Huaiqian, his tone soft and a little sarcastic: "That's correct, Brother Zijing. Usually, don't you speak of all this with unconcealed animation? It's rather rare to see you like this today."
Zhang Huaiqian, at a loss for words, raised his wine cup to hide his embarrassment.
At this sight, the assembly burst into laughter, and the atmosphere in the hall became increasingly lively.