Year 12 of Yongle, September. Beijing.
The set of green porcelain cricket tools sent by the Third Prince had been sitting on the table in the side room for two full days. I hadn't touched them once.
It wasn't that I didn't like them. The probe tube and water basin were indeed exquisite; the glaze was warm and smooth like congealed fat, heavy and substantial in the hand, far superior to the rough pottery I had bought at the market. But every time I reached out to pick one up, a thought would float before my eyes: If the Third Prince asks how I'm using these, what should I say? Should I say, "I'm using them very well"? Or, "I slipped and broke one"?
I thought about it and felt neither answer was quite right.
So, on the third day, the set of tools was arranged neatly in the most prominent spot in the room. The probe tube on the left, the water basin in the center, the food dish on the right, with a small dish of honey-preserved kumquats placed beside them. From a distance, it looked like an altar dedicated to some deity.
Ruolan walked in carrying tea, saw this scene, and paused for a moment.
"Miss... what are you doing?"
"Paying homage," I said without looking up, continuing to change the water for the Great General.
"Paying homage?"
"They are too valuable; I dare not use them. But it's a pity to just leave them there." I put down the water bowl, turned to glance at the green porcelain set, and spoke calmly, "So I'll enshrine them. Looking at them every day improves my mood."
Ruolan opened her mouth, feeling something was off about this logic but unable to pinpoint what.
Footsteps sounded outside the door.
Zhu Zhanji walked in and immediately spotted the green porcelain tools being "worshipped" on the table. He stood before the desk for a moment, his gaze shifting from the dish of kumquats to the probe tube, then to the water basin, and finally landing on my face.
"What are you doing?"
"Paying homage."
"Paying homage?"
"They are too valuable; I dare not use them." I squatted in front of the cricket jar, not turning around. "Things sent by the Third Prince... if I slip and break one, how am I supposed to explain it when he asks? 'Replying to Third Highness, I stuck your probe tube into the cricket jar and snapped it'?"
He was silent for a moment. Then he laughed. It wasn't his usual warm, restrained chuckle, but a laugh triggered by something striking him as genuinely funny.
"You, this person—" He shook his head, walked to the table, picked up the green porcelain probe tube, and twirled it in his hand. Sunlight streamed through the window lattice, falling on the tube, making the glaze shimmer with a warm green light.
"Use it," he said, handing the probe tube to me. "If it breaks, count it as This Prince's loss."
I took the probe tube but didn't rush to use it. Instead, I looked up at him: "You said it?"
"This Prince said it."
"Then write me a receipt."
"...Song Yu'an."
"Just kidding." I smiled, squatted down, and used the probe tube to gently guide the Great General.
The Great General's antennae touched the tip of the tube, trembled slightly, and it walked forward two steps in that direction. Its pace was steady, its antennae held high, looking very spirited.
"Is it good to use?" He squatted beside me.
"It is," I answered honestly. "Much better than mine. Expensive things really do have their reasons for being expensive."
"Then why didn't you use it before?"
"Because it wasn't mine."
He looked at me, his eyes shifting slightly.
"Things sent by Third Uncle are yours now."
"No," I shook my head. "What Third Prince sent was 'for the Great General,' not for me. Once the Great General is done with them, the tools still belong to Third Prince. If I break them, I owe Third Prince a favor."
I paused, placed the probe tube back on the table, and said in a flat tone: "You said if it breaks, it's your loss. Then I would owe you."
He froze.
"You certainly draw clear lines."
"Of course I must," I said, closing the lid of the Great General's jar and turning to face him. "In the palace, those who can't distinguish boundaries don't live long. I may have arrived late, but I understand this principle."
I said this lightly, as if commenting on the weather. But I saw a change in his eyes—he heard the weight beneath the lightness. I wasn't ignorant of the rules; I understood them perfectly but chose to state them in a way that wouldn't make anyone tense.
"You adapt very quickly," he said.
"If I can't adapt, I can't get out," I shrugged. "I can't cry every day. Crying is useless."
Looking at me, he suddenly felt—I was more clear-headed than he had assumed.
That afternoon, Eunuch Li came again.
This time, his steps were faster than usual. He held a sandalwood box, his expression subtle.
"Miss, Third Highness has sent something else."
I was drying herbs in the courtyard; my hands paused.
"Sent something else?"
"Yes."
I took the box and opened it. Inside was another set of green porcelain cricket tools. Probe tube, water basin, food dish—identical to the first set in glaze, shape, and size, as if fired in the same kiln.
But this time, there was an extra note.
I pulled out the slip of paper. On it, in that neat, slender handwriting, was written:
"Since Miss Song refuses to use them, I shall send another set. One for use, one for viewing."
I stared at that line for a long time.
Ruolan whispered beside me, "Miss, Third Highness is—"
"He knows," I said, folding the note and placing it back in the box with the tools. "He knows I dare not use them."
"What should we do?"
"What should we do?" I placed the box on the table, side by side with the first set. "Use them, of course. Third Highness said so; not using them would be disrespectful."
I opened the box, took out the new set of tools, and squatted down to feed the Great General.
The Great General had a good appetite today, eating six grains of rice and circling twice in the jar.
"Great General," I whispered softly, using the new probe tube to gently touch its antennae. "Do you know how much this set of tools you're using now is worth?"
The Great General let out a "Ji".
"Good, you don't know. Just eat well and don't think too much."
Ruolan watched from the side and suddenly felt—the way I spoke to the Great General seemed like I was also speaking to myself.
In the evening, when Zhu Zhanji came to the side room, he immediately saw the two sets of green porcelain tools arranged side by side on the table.
One set was clearly used; there were water stains in the basin, and a bit of mud on the tip of the probe tube. The other set was pristine, arranged neatly, with the dish of honey-preserved kumquats still beside it.
"One for use, one for viewing?" He sat opposite me.
"Mm." I didn't look up, continuing to flip through the copy of Compendium of Materia Medica (Bencao Gangmu) on the table—which Third Prince had also sent today. A note tucked inside read: "Since Miss Song is versed in veterinary medicine, perhaps this book may be of interest."
"Third Uncle sent a book too?"
"Mm. It's written very well. Much more systematic than what my father taught me." I turned a page. "Your Third Uncle's calligraphy is also excellent."
He was silent for a moment.
"What do you think of Third Uncle as a person?"
I thought for a while, then closed the book.
"Smart. Extremely smart."
"And?"
"And—" I looked up at him. "He wants me to know that he is smarter than me."
His expression changed slightly.
"You think he's showing off?"
"Not showing off," I shook my head. "It's more like—'I am watching you, but I won't make a move. You behave yourself.'"
I paused, then added, "It's probably similar to when your Second Uncle came to fight crickets. Only, your Second Uncle used crickets, while your Third Uncle uses books."
He looked at me, silent for a long time.
"Are you afraid?" he suddenly asked.
I thought about it.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because if Third Uncle wanted to make a move against me, he wouldn't send books. He would act directly."
He froze, then laughed.
"You, this person, really are—"
"Really are what?"
"Really good at seeing through things."
"Of course," I said confidently. "My master used to say my ability to observe things was even three points better than his."
"Your master?"
"Mm. I learned from him since I was young. He was much more skilled than me; he could treat any animal." My tone softened slightly. "Unfortunately, he is no longer here."
He didn't press further, just looking at me.
The courtyard fell quiet for a while. The scent of osmanthus drifted in from the window, sweet and delicate, mixing with the aroma of the honey-preserved kumquats on the table.
"Song Yu'an."
"Mm?"
"You just said that in the palace, those who can't distinguish boundaries don't live long. Then look at This Prince—do I distinguish clearly?"
I looked at his face. Moonlight streamed through the window, falling on half of his face. His expression was calm, but there was something in his eyes I hadn't seen before.
"You distinguish very clearly."
"And you?"
"What?"
"Do you distinguish clearly?"
I was silent for a moment.
"I try my best."
He nodded.
"Song Yu'an."
"Mm?"
"This Prince is also watching you."
My hand paused.
"What?"
"Yesterday you asked if This Prince was also watching you." His voice was very light, as if mentioning something unimportant. "The answer is—yes."
The side room was very quiet. Waves of osmanthus fragrance drifted in, mixing with the sweetness of the kumquats, making one feel slightly dazed.
"Then what have you seen?" I asked, my voice much softer than usual.
He didn't answer immediately. He looked at me, for a long time.
"I've seen—that you are more clear-headed than I imagined. And also more reassuring than I imagined."
"Reassuring?"
"Mm. In this place, clear-headed people are few. You are one of them."
I was silent for a while.
"Then are you?"
"This Prince?" He chuckled lightly. "This Prince isn't clear-headed. This Prince must be clear-headed."
Looking at his face against the light, I suddenly felt that this fifteen-year-old Crown Prince was far lonelier than I had assumed.
"Zhu Zhanji."
"Mm?"
"You can be unclear-headed in front of me."
The courtyard fell silent for a long time.
The wind blew, turning a page of the book on the table. The scent of osmanthus was so thick it felt almost solid.
He stood by the window, looking at me, something indefinable in his gaze.
"Do you know," he said, his voice very light, "what you are saying?"
"I know," I said. "I'm saying—you don't have to be the Crown Prince in front of me."
He didn't speak. He just looked at me, for a long time.
Then he smiled. It wasn't his warm, restrained smile, nor his mischievous, prankish grin. It was a true, youthful smile that hadn't appeared on his face in a long time.
"Good," he said.
One word, very light, but very serious.
He turned and left. This time, he walked very slowly, as if slowly digesting something.
I sat at the desk, watching his back disappear at the end of the corridor.
The wind blew again, turning another page of the book on the table.
Ruolan popped out from the corner, holding a freshly brewed cup of tea.
"Miss, what His Highness just said—"
"What he said," I interrupted her, my voice much softer than usual, "was the truth."
I lowered my head and continued flipping through the Compendium of Materia Medica. But my fingers were trembling; I flipped several pages without reading a single word.
Outside the window, the osmanthus tree swayed gently under the moonlight. A few petals drifted down, landing on the windowsill, beside the kumquat pot.
I looked up, and suddenly felt—this imperial palace didn't seem as cold as when I first arrived.
On the table, the two sets of green porcelain tools stood side by side. One used, one brand new. Moonlight shone upon them, the glaze shimmering with a warm luster.
I closed the book, stood up, and walked to the window.
The kumquat pot on the windowsill sat quietly. The soil inside was still moist; Ruolan had watered it in the evening. Those few kumquat seeds buried in the soil—who knew when they would sprout?
I reached out to touch the rim of the pot, then pulled my hand back.
"They will sprout," I whispered, not knowing if I was speaking to the kumquats or to myself.
Then I blew out the lamp.
Outside the palace walls, the shadows of osmanthus trees swayed gently in the moonlight. In the distance, footsteps seemed to sound, very light, pausing briefly at the end of the corridor before fading away.
I didn't hear them. I was already asleep.
Outside the window, the moon peeked out from behind the clouds, shining brightly on the glazed tiles of the Eastern Palace.
(End of Chapter 6)