Yongle Year 22, September. Beijing.
I had just finished arranging the pastries. The egg tarts were made in the morning; I added an extra spoonful of sugar compared to last time. They were a tender yellow, topped with a small pinch of osmanthus jam, arranged on a white porcelain plate, looking so good they didn't seem like my work. Ruolan said, "Miss, you're getting more and more skilled at making egg tarts." I said, "Obviously, if you make them every day, how can you not be skilled?" She smiled and carried the teapot out. I sat at the table, waiting. He said he wouldn't go out today; he would come over after reading the memorials. I stared at that plate of egg tarts for a while, thinking about whether he would say "sweet" when he ate them, thinking about whether his ears would turn red again, thinking about when the scar on his hand would fade a little.
Footsteps came from the doorway. Not just one person's. I looked up.
Zhu Gaosui walked in, smiling. "I heard you have food here."
I paused. He was wearing gray-blue casual clothes, his hair tied with a bamboo hairpin, just like the first time he came to the Eastern Palace. He wasn't holding a book, a note, or anything in his hands. He only carried a smile. That smile I had seen many times—at family banquets, in the side hall of the Qianqing Palace, at the banquet after the alley incident. It was a faint, casual smile, like saying "the weather is nice today." But today, as I looked at his smile, my heart suddenly tightened. Not fear, but the kind of tightness where—you know some things you shouldn't know, then see that person smiling as usual, and your heart tightens.
"Aren't you here to see him?" I asked.
He sat down. "By the way," he said. His tone was very light, like saying something that didn't need explanation. He looked at the egg tarts on the table, then at me. "You made them?"
"Mm."
"Smells good." He picked one up and took a bite. Chewed twice, stopped. His expression didn't change, still that faint smile. But his eyes moved slightly. Not surprise, but the kind where—he didn't expect them to be this good, but didn't want to show it. "Sweet," he said.
Zhu Zhanji looked at him. "You certainly know how to 'by the way'." His tone was very flat, like saying "drink tea." But when he set down his tea cup, his fingers lingered on the rim for an extra moment. I noticed. He noticed too. Zhu Gaosui chuckled. "Haven't you been investigating a case recently?" He lifted his tea cup, took a sip. "Hard work."
"Mm," Zhu Zhanji said. Very short, very flat. Just like these past few days. I sat beside them, watching the two of them. One eating egg tarts, one drinking tea. Just like every day. But different. I knew some things I shouldn't know. So when I looked at them, everything changed. When he said "hard work," did he really think it was hard, or was he saying something else? When he said "by the way," was it really by the way, or was it on purpose? I didn't know. I just sat beside them, watching.
I couldn't help but interject. "He's been so quiet lately it's maddening."
The hall fell silent for a moment. Zhu Zhanji glanced at me. Said nothing. I continued. "And he speaks shorter and shorter sentences."
Zhu Gaosui laughed. "Found anyone yet?" he asked. His tone was very casual, like asking "how's the weather today."
"Not yet," Zhu Zhanji said. I added. "He said he found a little."
The hall fell silent again for a moment. Zhu Zhanji looked at me again. This time he was truly speechless. His eyes moved slightly, not in anger, but in that way where—he didn't expect me to say this, was poked a bit, but didn't want to admit it. I couldn't help wanting to laugh. His ears weren't red. But his fingers lingered on the rim of the cup again.
Zhu Gaosui acted as if he hadn't noticed. "You wouldn't find Second Brother, would you?" His tone was very casual, like joking. Like when he said "That won't do, if the Imperial Grandson is boring, this palace will have no meaning." I sat beside them, watching his smile. That smile was faint, casual. But I knew it wasn't. He was probing. Asking: What have you found? How much do you know? Who are you going to move against next? He was asking. Smiling as he asked. Like joking.
Zhu Zhanji said indifferently: "It's possible."
He nodded. "That would be interesting." His tone was very light, like saying something unimportant. I heard it. Those four words, coming from his mouth, carried the same tone as when he said "That won't do" at the banquet. But I knew it was different. When he said "That would be interesting," he wasn't saying the case was interesting. He was saying—You found Second Brother, interesting. How will you move against him? Even more interesting. He was watching. Waiting. Smiling. Just like every time.
I listened for a while. Couldn't help saying: "Why do you two talk so strangely?"
The air was quiet for a second. Zhu Gaosui laughed. "Where is it strange?"
I said seriously: "I don't understand."
He laughed more noticeably. Looking at me. "You certainly know how to interrupt." His tone was very light, like saying something not worth worrying about. But I knew he was watching. Watching how I would respond, watching how Zhu Zhanji would protect, watching what position I held at this table. He was smiling, like joking. But his eyes weren't smiling.
I paused. Before I could speak, Zhu Zhanji had already spoken. "She's always like this." His tone was very light. Like saying "drink tea." But everyone heard it. He protected me. Not the kind of protection where he stands up and blocks in front, but the kind where—sitting, holding a tea cup, not even turning his head, just saying "She's always like this." He was telling Zhu Gaosui: She is this kind of person. You don't need to test. Testing is useless.
I turned to look at him. "Are you criticizing me?"
He glanced at me. "No."
I couldn't help smiling a little. His ears weren't red. But the corner of his mouth moved slightly, very light, very fast. Like being poked by something, unable to hold back. I saw it. Zhu Gaosui saw it too. He lifted his tea cup, took a sip. Set it down. Said nothing. But I felt he was watching. Watching us. Watching that slight movement of Zhu Zhanji's mouth, watching that slight smile of mine. He saw everything. But he said nothing. Just sat there, eating egg tarts, drinking tea, smiling. Just like every time.
The hall returned to its unhurried atmosphere. Zhu Gaosui took another egg tart, took a bite. "A bit too sweet," he said.
"Next time, use less sugar," Zhu Zhanji said.
"No need," Zhu Gaosui said. "Just right."
I looked at the two of them. One saying a bit too sweet, one saying no need. One probing, one blocking. They were talking, laughing, eating egg tarts. Just like every day. But I knew it was different. He knew. He also knew he knew. But neither said it. Just sat here, drinking tea, eating egg tarts, smiling. Just like every day.
Zhu Gaosui finished the second egg tart and stood up. "I'm leaving," he said.
"Not seeing you off," Zhu Zhanji said.
He chuckled, walking out. Reaching the door, he suddenly stopped, turned back to look at me. "The egg tarts are not bad," he said. His tone was very light, like saying something not worth worrying about. I paused. "Thank you," he said. Then he left. The footsteps gradually faded away in the corridor.
The hall quieted down. I sat at the table, looking at the plate with two fewer egg tarts. He ate two. He said a bit too sweet, then said just right. He said finding Second Brother would be interesting, then said the egg tarts were not bad. He smiled, ate, probed. Just like every time. I suddenly felt a bit cold. Not the cold of weather, but the kind where—you sit across from a person, he is smiling, eating the egg tarts you made, saying "quite interesting." But you don't know what he is thinking. He smiles, like a friend. But he is not a friend. He is the one standing in the dark, the one handing the knife, the master of that net. He smiles, waiting. Waiting for Zhu Zhanji to move, waiting for that net to close, waiting for himself to walk to where he should go. He can wait. He has always been able to wait.
"Zhu Zhanji."
"Mm."
"Did he know?"
"Mm."
"Does he know you know?"
Zhu Zhanji didn't answer. Lifted his tea cup, took a sip. Set it down. Just like every day.
"He knows," he said.
I looked at him. He sat at the table, looking at the plate with two fewer egg tarts. His expression was very calm, just like every day. But I knew it was different. He knew. He also knew he knew. But neither said it. Just sat here, drinking tea, eating egg tarts, smiling. Just like every day. They were waiting. Waiting for the right moment. Waiting for that net to close itself. Waiting for that person to walk to him on his own. He could wait. He could wait too. I sat beside them, watching them wait.
"Zhu Zhanji."
"Mm."
"Next time, use less sugar for the egg tarts?"
He looked at me, his gaze shifting slightly. "No need," he said. "Just right."
I laughed. He also laughed. Very light, very short. But his eyes curved a bit, just like when he poked Huang Tuan's head in the Eastern Palace side room. The hall was very quiet, the lamp on the table, the light very warm. He sat beside me, eating egg tarts, waiting for that person to walk over on his own. I sat beside him, waiting with him.
(End of Chapter Thirty-Eight)