First Year of Zhongyuan, February 23rd.
Spring had still not arrived in Chang'an. The wind cut across faces like blade edges. The charcoal fire in the workshop had burned all day, yet it could not warm the place. I sat at my desk repairing a lacquerzhi (wine vessel). Most of the cinnabar lacquer on the cup's body had peeled away, exposing the wooden core beneath. I dipped a fine brush into mixed cinnabar paste and filled in the peeling spots, dot by dot. This work required an extremely steady hand and an extremely quiet heart.
But today, my heart could not be still.
"Lady Lu." A strange voice came from the doorway.
I looked up. A middle-aged eunuch stood there. He wore the uniform of a palace attendant, but the fabric was far superior to that of ordinary attendants—he was someone close to the Emperor. His face was lean, his gaze steady; he stood with an imposing presence that needed no anger to command respect.
"His Majesty summons you," he said.
My hand paused. A drop of cinnabar fell from the brush tip onto the lacquer vessel, spreading into a small red blotch.
"Now?"
"Now."
I put down the brush and stood up. I glanced down at my clothes—a half-worn curved-hem robe, cuffs stained with cinnabar, mineral pigments embedded in the crevices of my nails. It was just like the first time I met Lady Wang, and just like the first time I met Ajiao. Instinctively, I wanted to change into something clean.
"Allow me to change my clothes."
"No need," the eunuch said. "His Majesty said to come just as you are."
I followed him. We crossed the corridors of the Eastern Palace, passed the main hall, and walked down a long palace road. This was my first time going to the Emperor's寝宫 (sleeping quarters). The road was long; the palace walls on both sides were high, cutting the sky into a narrow strip. It was gray and hazy; the sun was invisible. I walked with my head down, my heart beating fast, my fingers unconsciously clutching my sleeve where a fresh smear of cinnabar had dried halfway, feeling rough to the touch. In front of the Emperor, this attire was likely very disrespectful. But I had no time to think about such things now.
The eunuch's steps were steady, neither hurried nor slow. I followed behind, stepping on his shadow.
The Emperor's quarters were in the deepest part of Weiyang Palace. The hall was dim; the windows were shut tight. The air was thick with the smell of medicine and charcoal smoke. Several attendants stood in the corners, heads bowed, motionless. The Imperial Physician had just left; a bowl of untouched medicine still sat on the desk.
I stood at the door, unsure where to stand. The eunuch withdrew, and the hall fell silent. Only the sound of the Emperor's breathing remained, heavy, like the pumping of a bellows.
Then I saw him.
Emperor Jing of Han, Liu Qi, leaned against the couch, covered with thick quilts. His face was thinner than when I had last seen him at the New Year's Eve banquet; his cheekbones protruded, and his eye sockets were deep. But his eyes—those eyes identical to Liu Che's—were still bright. Not the brightness of a burning flame, but the glow of embers remaining after a fire has burned down to its end. He looked at me, his gaze moving from my face to the cinnabar on my sleeve, pausing for an instant, then returning.
I knelt and performed the great bow.
"Commoner Lu Xingye pays respects to Your Majesty."
"Rise," he said, his voice very light, as if squeezed out from his chest. "Come closer."
I stood up and walked to the couch, stopping at an appropriate distance. There was a small table beside the couch with a lamp on it, the flame flickering. My shadow fell upon him, swaying slightly. Unsure where to stand, I stepped back half a pace.
He looked at me, and in his gaze was something I could not quite define. It was not scrutiny; it was assessment—like a dying man looking at his son's future.
"You are the one who repairs things?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Che'er often goes to find you."
It was not a question, but a statement. Exactly what Lady Wang had said.
"Yes."
"What does he go there to do?"
"To watch me repair artifacts."
He was silent for a moment. Then he smiled. Very lightly; only the corners of his mouth moved slightly.
"I have heard that your method of repairing things is very special. Just as special as the evidence in the Li Yan case."
My heart skipped a beat. He knew. He knew everything.
"Your Majesty—"
"I know about the Li Yan case," he interrupted me. "I know the evidence was fake. I know the gift list was real. I know what the Eldest Princess did. I know why Empress Dowager Dou protected her."
His voice was calm, as if discussing something he had figured out long ago.
"I know everything."
He looked at me, his gaze suddenly becoming very serious.
"But I cannot move against them. My health is failing. Che'er is still too young. Empress Dowager Dou is my mother; the Eldest Princess is my sister. If I move against them, the Dou clan will descend into chaos, the court will be in turmoil, and Che'er's position as Crown Prince cannot be secured."
He closed his eyes, as if gathering strength.
"So I did nothing. I let Li Yan die, let the case close, let the Eldest Princess think she had won."
He opened his eyes and looked at me.
"But I cannot let Che'er face all this alone."
He retrieved a scroll of silk from under his pillow and handed it to me. His hand trembled slightly.
"Take it."
I accepted it. The silk scroll was old, its edges worn, stamped with a dark red imperial seal. It was very light, light as a feather.
"This is—"
"Everything the Dou family has done over the years is recorded here," he said. "Selling official titles, embezzling military funds, secretly colluding with vassal kings—every item has evidence. I spent five years investigating bit by bit, recording bit by bit. I dared not let anyone know."
His voice grew lower and lower.
"I intended to handle this myself. But I have no time left."
He looked at me, and in his eyes was something I had never seen before—not the majesty of an emperor, not the love of a father, but the final clarity of a dying man.
"Do you know why I am giving this to you, and not to Che'er?"
"Because—"
"Because you are the only person in this palace he can truly trust," he interrupted. "I have observed you for a long time. You do not fear Che'er, you do not beg from Che'er, and you do not exploit Che'er. In the Li Yan case, you saw things others could not. You understand traces, you understand truth and falsehood, and you know how to find the truth from fragments."
He took a breath.
"You have no backing, no powerful family. This means you will have no leverage falling into others' hands. But you also need to protect yourself. This silk scroll is safer with you than with Che'er. Che'er is too young; he cannot hide it. You are different. You can hide it well. Just as you repair artifacts—hiding it where others cannot see."
I gripped the silk scroll, my fingers tightening.
"I will tell you how to deal with Empress Dowager Dou." His voice suddenly became clear, like a final burst of energy before death. "Empress Dowager Dou's greatest weakness is the Prince of Liang. She loves him too much. She loves him enough to do anything for him. If Che'er wants to deal with the Empress Dowager, he cannot attack head-on. He must start with the Prince of Liang. The Prince is greedy, the Prince is foolish, and he is surrounded by petty men. As long as the Prince of Liang makes a mistake, the Empress Dowager cannot protect him. If the Empress Dowager cannot protect the Prince of Liang, the Eldest Princess will lose her backing. If the Eldest Princess loses her backing—"
He did not finish. But I understood.
"Tell Che'er—to bring this out only when he has the capability. Not now. If brought out now, he will die."
I looked at the silk scroll in my hand. Then I raised my head to look at the old man on the couch. His eyes were still bright, but I knew that lamp was about to go out.
"Your Majesty," my voice was somewhat hoarse, "why do you trust me?"
He looked at me, silent for a moment.
"Because the way you look at Che'er is different from everyone else."
"How is it different?"
"Others look at him and see the Crown Prince, the future Emperor. You look at him—and see only a youth."
He smiled. Faintly.
"When he is tired, you let him lean on you. When he is in pain, you bandage him. When he cannot figure things out, you stay and talk with him. These are things I cannot do. I am his father, but I am also the Emperor. There are things an Emperor cannot do, but you can."
He reached out and held my hand. His hand was very cold, cold like winter water.
"I know you are a good person," he said. "With you by Che'er's side, I am at ease."
My eyes grew hot.
"Your Majesty—"
"Do not cry," he said, the corners of his mouth moving slightly. "I am not dead yet."
I wiped my tears. He looked at me and smiled. Very lightly, very faintly, like the last leaf of winter.
"In this life, I have done many wrong things," he said. "Establishing Che'er as Crown Prince was the most right thing I ever did. But I also owe him. His position as Crown Prince was once abolished. At that time, I listened to others and wavered. Later, I reinstated him. I have never told him about this matter. You—when you have the chance in the future, tell him for me. Tell him his father failed him."
I nodded.
"There is one more thing." He looked at me, his gaze suddenly becoming serious. "You know Che'er's temper better than I do. He is stubborn, insists on his own principles, and once he sets his mind on something, not even nine oxen can pull him back. This temper can make him a good emperor. But it can also kill him. Watch over him. Do not let him move too fast. When it is time to slow down, pull him back."
"Yes."
He released my hand and leaned back against the pillow. He gasped a few times. Speaking had exhausted his remaining strength.
"Go," he said. "Hide the thing well. Do not let anyone know."
I stood up, performed the great bow, and walked to the door. Behind me, I heard him say:
"Lu Xingye."
I stopped.
"Thank you."
I did not turn around. I was afraid he would see my face.
By the time I returned to the workshop, it was already dark. Qingxing was waiting at the door, holding a bowl of soup that had already gone cold.
"Lady, where have you been? The Crown Prince came looking for you."
"Where is His Highness?"
"In the study. He said to find him after you returned."
I closed the door, took the silk scroll from my sleeve, and looked at it under the lamp for a moment. Then I wrapped it in oilcloth and stuffed it into the bottom layer of the tool chest—there was a false compartment I had discovered while repairing things, just the right size to hide a silk scroll. I covered it with tools; it looked perfectly normal.
I went to find Liu Che.
He sat at his desk, piles of memorials before him. He looked up, saw me, and frowned.
"Where have you been? I've been looking for you for a long time."
I closed the door and walked to him.
"Your Highness," I said, "His Majesty summoned me."
His hand paused.
"Father?" His voice changed. "What did he say to you?"
I took the silk scroll from my sleeve and handed it to him.
He took it and unrolled it, reading by the lamp light. His expression changed—first confusion, then shock, and finally something I could not define. It seemed like anger, yet also sorrow. His fingers trembled, the silk rustling in his hands.
"This is—"
"His Majesty spent five years investigating this," I said. "The Dou family, the Eldest Princess, the Prince of Liang—everything is recorded here. His Majesty said to bring it out only when you have the capability. Not now."
Liu Che said nothing. He put down the scroll, stood up, and walked to the window, turning his back to me.
"Why didn't he tell me?" His voice was very low.
"Because the time is not yet right."
"Then when will the time be right?"
"When you are strong enough."
He was silent for a long time. The wind outside blew, making the window lattice hum.
"What else did he say?" he asked.
"He said—" I paused, "that establishing you as Crown Prince was the most right thing he ever did."
His shoulder twitched.
"He also said he owes you. Your position as Crown Prince was once abolished; he listened to others and wavered. He has never told you about this. He asked me to tell you—that Father failed you."
Liu Che did not turn around. But I saw his hand gripping the window frame, his knuckles turning white.
"And?"
"He said Empress Dowager Dou's greatest weakness is the Prince of Liang. To deal with the Empress Dowager, one cannot attack head-on; one must start with the Prince of Liang. The Prince is greedy, the Prince is foolish, and he is surrounded by petty men. As long as the Prince of Liang makes a mistake, the Empress Dowager cannot protect him."
He turned around and looked at me. His eyes were red, but he did not cry.
"What else did Father say?"
I looked into his eyes. Those eyes were exactly like the Emperor's—bright, stubborn, unwilling to admit defeat.
"He said—" My voice was somewhat hoarse, "that his son has a bad temper. He asked me to be more tolerant."
He愣了一下 (paused in surprise). Then he smiled. Tears still hung on his face, but the corners of his mouth curled up.
"Did he really say that?"
I did not answer. He lowered his head, looking at the silk scroll in his hand. Then he raised his head and looked at me.
"Lu Xingye."
"Mm."
"Will you... will you always be here?"
His voice was very light, as if afraid the wind would blow the words away.
"I will," I said. "I will always be here."
He held my hand, tightening his grip slightly.
The wind outside stopped. The night in Chang'an was very quiet. In the second month of the first year of Zhongyuan, a youth stood by the window, holding a silk scroll in his hand, tears in his eyes, a smile on his lips. He knew that from this day forward, he was no longer alone.
[End of Chapter 21]