Yongle Year 22, September. Beijing.
When the tea bowl was presented, I nearly failed to catch it.
Not because I was clumsy—well, maybe a little—but because everyone else held their bowls so steadily. In their hands, the bowls seemed like an extension of their palms: no shaking, no tilting, not a single sound. I mimicked their posture, cradling the bowl in my palms, fingers curling inward, fingertips resting against the rim. The bowl was hot, scalding my fingertips until they went numb, but I dared not loosen my grip. Nor did I dare to drink. I didn't know when the right moment to drink was, how large a sip was appropriate, or whether making a sound when setting the bowl down was acceptable.
I stole a glance at those around me. Zhu Gaoxu took a sip and smacked his lips, as if tasting both the tea and the people. The Crown Princess held her bowl, her lips barely touching the tea liquor before she set it down, as if merely paying respect to the vessel itself. The Third Prince didn't drink at all; he simply held the bowl, observing the color of the tea, as if appraising whether the leaves were worth the price. Zhu Zhanji also hadn't drunk. He lifted the bowl, paused, then set it down again. Throughout, his gaze never once fell upon the tea bowl. He was looking out the window. What was there to see outside? I glanced too. Nothing. Just sky, just clouds, just the eaves of the palace. Yet he watched so intently, as if something monumental were unfolding out there.
I looked down at the tea bowl in my own hands. Tea leaves floated on the surface; some had sunk, while others remained drifting. Those floating leaves seemed to mock meLook, even we don't sink; how is it you don't even dare to drink?
I took a deep breath, lifted the bowl, and took a sip. Hot. Bitter. I swallowed without frowning. Internally, I applauded myself.
"The young lady was quite active in the military camp."
Zhu Gaoxu spoke. The bowl in my hand trembled slightly; the tea liquor sloshed to the rim, nearly spilling over.Here it comes. I knew this tea wasn't served for nothing.
I steadied my fingers, keeping my head down. I couldn't say "No"—that would be lying. I couldn't say "It was fine"—that would be playing dumb in front of him. And I couldn't remain silent—silence would imply guilt. My mind raced, preparing to formulate a response that was neither a lie nor feigned ignorance—
"She indeed provided considerable assistance."
The Crown Princess's voice drifted from the side, light as a feather, yet landing with more weight than a stone. She set down her tea cup, a slight smile on her lips. It was the kind of smile I had seen at the Eastern Palace family banquet—gentle, uncontentious, yet everyone knew that once she spoke, her words could not be taken back.
In the air, all eyes fell upon me, then swept past me. Silently, I gave the Crown Princess a mental thumbs-up, then lowered my head to drink tea, pretending I didn't exist. The tea was still bitter, but as the bitterness lingered, it somehow became less unbearable.
The Third Prince chuckled. Very lightly, very briefly, as if amused by something he couldn't quite suppress. Sitting beside Zhu Gaoxu, he too held a bowl of tea. He didn't drink; he merely held it, occasionally glancing at the tea's color, occasionally lifting his eyes to scan the people in the hall. That gaze was like watching a play whose ending was already known.
"It seems the Crown Princess is quite fond of her," he remarked. His tone was casual, as if saying, "The weather is nice today."
When these words landed, the atmosphere in the hall shifted again. I tightened my grip on the tea bowl, my fingers circling the rim once. The tea liquor swayed, then stabilized.Third Prince, I thought,are you supporting me or fanning the flames? Could you please make yourself clear?
The Crown Princess glanced at me. She smiled. No explanation, no denial, just a smile. She lifted her tea bowl, took a sip, and set it down. That smile conveyed one message:So what if I am?
The hall was very quiet. Everyone was waiting for this thread to continue—or not. I lowered my head, staring at the tea liquor in my bowl, with only one thought in my mind:Can we stop waiting? I really need to use the restroom.
"She merely did what needed to be done."
Zhu Zhanji's voice came from across the room, not loud, his tone very light. He sat below Zhu Gaochi, holding a bowl of tea, untouched. His gaze fell on no one; instead, it was directed out the window—still that same empty window. After speaking, he set the tea bowl down, moving very slowly. The bottom of the bowl met the table surface without a sound.
The atmosphere in the hall relaxed slightly. I exhaled halfway. The other half remained caught in my throat, because Zhu Gaoxu cast a glance at Zhu Zhanji, and that look was off.
"You certainly trust her."
There it is. This sentence carried more weight than the previous ones. It wasn't asking"What did she do?"; it was asking"Why do you trust her?" This question could not be answered. To answer would be to admit he trusted me; not to answer would imply guilt. My hand holding the tea bowl tightened slightly, my knuckles turning white. The tea liquor swayed in the bowl, splashing a drop onto the back of my hand. Hot. I didn't wipe it.
Zhu Zhanji did not answer immediately. He sat there, the unfinished bowl of tea before him. A breeze outside caused the window lattice to creak softly. His gaze withdrew from the window and settled on the tabletop, looking at no one.
Then he spoke four words.
"To employ someone is to trust them." Yong ren, dang xin.)
I was stunned. Not"I trust her," but"To employ someone is to trust them." He transformed a personal matter into official business, turning"why" into"should." Brilliant. Truly brilliant. Internally, I gave him another thumbs-up. Then I lowered my head to continue drinking tea. This time, the tea didn't seem so bitter; perhaps it truly wasn't, or perhaps I had simply grown accustomed to it.
Zhu Gaoxu looked at him, saying nothing. He lifted his tea bowl, took a sip, and set it down. Leaning back in his chair, fingers resting on his knees, he gazed at the tabletop before him. I had seen that expression before—in the Northern Desert, when he looked at Zhu Zhanji, he wore the same face. It wasn't surrender; he was calculating.
The Third Prince chuckled again, this time slightly longer. He set down his tea bowl, glanced at Zhu Zhanji, then at me, before withdrawing his gaze to continue observing the tea's color. As if nothing had happened. He lifted his tea bowl, slowly took a sip, and when he set it down, the bowl bottom made no sound.Third Prince, I thought,are you satisfied with this performance?
The hall returned to its unhurried atmosphere. People began discussing other matters, drinking tea, or gazing at the sky outside. Zhu Gaochi sat at the head, remaining silent throughout. He held a bowl of tea, sipping slowly, listening to Zhu Gaoxu, listening to the Third Prince, listening to Zhu Zhanji. Occasionally he nodded, occasionally he hummed an "Mm," his face expressionless. Sitting in that position, he no longer needed expressions to tell others who he was.
I sat in the corner, finishing the bowl of now-cold tea. The few unbrewed leaves at the bottom had curled into a ball, settled at the very bottom. I stared at them for a moment, then set the bowl down. The bottom of the bowl tapped against the table, emitting a light sound. No one looked at me.
The sounds in the hall flowed past my ears like water. I sat at the riverbed, watching the people on the surface talk, drink tea, and laugh. The words they spoke, I understood the characters but not the meaning. Only one sentence did I understand—"To employ someone is to trust them." Four words. Not spoken to me, yet I took them to heart.
I looked down at the dried stain of that tea drop on the back of my hand, rubbed it with my thumb, but it wouldn't come off.Never mind, I'll wash it later. I pulled my hand back into my sleeve, clenching and unclenching my fingers one by one. Clenching, then releasing. Until my fingers warmed up.
The liveliness in the hall continued. Someone laughed; I didn't catch who. Tea was added; I didn't see who. I sat in the corner, looking at the empty tea bowl opposite me—Zhu Zhanji's. When he had finished drinking, I hadn't noticed. But the bowl was empty, the bottom clean, without a single leaf. I stared at that empty bowl for a while, then raised my head. He was looking out the window. Still that same empty window. But suddenly, I felt there might truly be something out there. It was just that I hadn't seen it yet.
(End of Chapter Twenty-Four)