Yongle Year 22, September. Beijing.
The hall was full of people. Not the fullness of a court session, but the fullness of a family banquet. Zhu Gaochi sat at the head, holding a bowl of tea, not drinking. The Empress sat beside him, holding a scroll of book, not reading. Zhu Gaoxu sat at the lower seat, a pot of wine before him, already half drunk. The Third Prince sat beside him, holding a wine cup, turning it in his hand, watching the wine hang on the cup wall for a moment, then flow down. Zhu Zhanji sat beside me, a bowl of tea before him, not drinking. I sat beside him, a bowl of tea before me, I drank it. It was already cold. I put down the tea bowl, picked it up again, then put it down again. The hall was very quiet, but that quietness was not tension, but the kind where—everyone was waiting for something, but no one said what they were waiting for.
Zhu Gaochi spoke first. "Have the Jinyiwei finished cleaning up?" His tone was very light, like saying "the weather is nice today." But his eyes were looking at Zhu Zhanji, and also at me. That glance was very short, so short it was like just confirming we were still there. But I saw it. He was looking at us sitting together, looking at Zhu Zhanji's tea not drunk, looking at my tea gone cold. He saw everything. He just didn't say it.
Zhu Zhanji nodded. "Almost."
Zhu Gaochi nodded. "Then it's just in time. It's time to handle the main business."
I paused. Main business? What main business? Wasn't the Jinyiwei matter main business? Wasn't the case main business? Wasn't the alley incident main business? I looked at him, he looked at me, smiled a little. That smile was very light, like saying "eat it." But I knew it was different. When he said "main business," there was something in his tone. Not heaviness, but the kind where—he felt this matter was more important than the Jinyiwei, more important than the case, more important than the alley incident. I didn't know what it was. I just felt he was looking at me. Looking at my clothes, looking at my hair, looking at the tea bowl in my hand. He was looking at me. Like looking at a person, to see if she could sit here, to see if she could sit beside him, to see if she could sit beside Zhu Zhanji. He didn't know, when I fell into the cricket jar, I was covered in mud. He didn't know, the first time I drank tea, my hands were shaking. He didn't know, I sat beside him because Zhu Zhanji said "she can." He knew nothing. But he smiled.
"Investiture of the Crown Princess." he said.
The hall fell silent for a moment. Not the "no one speaking" silence, but the kind where—everyone knew it was coming, but still paused when it came, then started waiting. Zhu Gaoxu's hand holding the wine cup paused, then he took a big gulp. The Third Prince put down the wine cup, leaning back in his chair, as if preparing to watch a show. The Empress put down the book, sitting upright, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned. Zhu Zhanji sat beside me, motionless. His expression was very calm, just like every day. But his fingers paused on the rim of the cup. Just for a moment, quickly withdrawn. I saw it. He also knew he was seen. But he didn't look at me. He sat there, looking at the tea bowl before him. The lamp shone on his face, his eyelashes casting a small shadow. His ears weren't red. But his fingers under the table, lightly tapped his knee once. Once, quickly, like counting something. Like counting how long he could hold on. Like counting how long I could sit.
I stood there stunned. My mind was blank. Investiture of the Crown Princess. Crown Princess. He. Me. Investiture. I sat beside him, hands still holding that bowl of cold tea. The tea was already stone cold, tea leaves sank to the bottom of the bowl, motionless. I stared at those tea leaves, for a long time. They couldn't float up anymore. What sinks, just sinks. I remembered the first time I drank tea, also in the hall, also under the lamp, also sitting beside him. At that time I didn't know when to drink to be right, didn't know how big a sip to be right, didn't know if I should make a sound when putting down the bowl after drinking. Now I knew. But the tea was still cold. The tea leaves still sank to the bottom of the bowl. Just like the first time.
I whispered. "Did you guys not ask me?"
The hall fell silent for a moment. Zhu Gaoxu's hand holding the wine cup paused, then put it down. The Third Prince leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth twitched, like suppressing a laugh. The Empress covered her mouth with a handkerchief, head lowered, shoulders shaking slightly. Zhu Gaochi looked at me, smiled a little. That smile was very light, like saying "eat it." But I knew it was different. He was laughing at me. Laughing at me sitting there, holding cold tea, asking "did you guys not ask me". He finished laughing, said a sentence.
"Ask now."
I was stunned. Ask now. They weren't asking just now. They were notifying. Announcing. Telling me—this matter is already decided. You just need to say okay. But they asked now. Zhu Gaochi sat at the head, looking at me. The Empress sat beside him, also looking at me. Zhu Gaoxu put down the wine cup, looking at me. The Third Prince leaned back in his chair, also looking at me. Everyone was looking at me. The lamp was on the table, light very bright, shining on my face. I sat there, holding that bowl of cold tea, not knowing what to say. Say what? Say "I am willing"? Too light. Say "I am not willing"? That's fake. Say "why didn't you say earlier"? That's acting spoiled. I said nothing. Just sat there, holding cold tea, looking at them. They were also looking at me. Waiting for me to speak. Or not. I held that bowl of tea, fingers circling the rim once. The tea was already stone cold. But my hands weren't shaking. Different from the first time.
"She can." Zhu Zhanji said. The voice wasn't loud, tone very flat. Like saying "drink tea." Like saying "let's go." Like saying "I know." But everyone heard it. When he said "she can," he wasn't asking for opinions. He was telling everyone—it's her. No need to choose. No need to ask. No need to think. It's her. Three words, directly deciding the person. His fingers didn't tap his knee. His ears weren't red. He just sat there, looking at the tea bowl before him. Just like every day. But I saw it. When he said "she can," his voice was very flat. So flat it was like saying something that didn't need confirmation. Like saying "drink tea," like saying "let's go," like saying "it will sprout." He knew long ago. Since when? Since the alley? Since the Northern Desert? Since the first day? He didn't say. I didn't ask either.
I turned to look at him. He didn't look at me. He sat there, looking at the tea bowl before him. The lamp shone on his face, his expression very calm. But his ears were red. Starting from the ear tips, slowly down, to the earlobes. Just like every time. Just like when learning Wuxi dialect in the Eastern Palace Imperial Garden, just like when bandaging me in the military tent, just like when being teased by the Crown Princess at the banquet. When he was stubborn, his ears would turn red. From the first day. When he said "she can," his voice was very flat. But his ears were red. He thought the lamp was very bright, I couldn't see. I saw it. He thought he could hide it. He couldn't hide it. From the first day.
I couldn't help saying. "Did you ask me?"
He turned his head, looking at me. That glance was very short, so short it was like just confirming I was still there. But his ears were redder. From the earlobes down, to the neck. The lamp was very bright, couldn't hide it. He also knew he couldn't hide it. But he didn't dodge. Just looked at me, said a sentence.
"You're not willing?"
I paused. Then laughed. Not laughing at him, but laughing at myself. He was asking me. In front of everyone, under the lamp, when the tea was cold, the tea leaves sank, everyone was looking, he asked me "you're not willing". He could say "she can" when announcing, could not explain when others asked, could not look at me in front of everyone. But he asked me. Under the lamp, when the tea was cold, the tea leaves sank, everyone was looking, he asked me "you're not willing". His ears were red, expression very flat, but he was waiting. Waiting for me to answer. Waiting for me to say "willing", or "not willing". Waiting for me to say "I didn't say I wasn't willing". He could wait. He had always been able to wait. From the alley. From the Northern Desert. From the first day.
"I didn't say I wasn't willing." I said.
The hall fell silent for a moment. Zhu Gaochi laughed. The Empress also laughed. Zhu Gaoxu put down the wine cup, leaning back in his chair, the corner of his mouth twitched. The Third Prince laughed out loud, unable to hold it back this time. Zhu Zhanji looked at me, his gaze shifting slightly. Not anger, not helplessness, but the kind where—he didn't expect me to say this, was poked a bit, but didn't want to admit it. His ears were still red. The lamp was very bright, couldn't hide it. He also knew he couldn't hide it. But he didn't dodge. Just looked at me. Just like every day.
The atmosphere in the hall relaxed. The Empress picked up her chopsticks again, placing food for Zhu Gaochi. Zhu Gaochi lifted his wine cup, took a sip, and set it down. The Third Prince leaned back in his chair, holding his wine cup, drinking slowly, as if savoring something. Zhu Gaoxu didn't speak again, lifted his wine cup, took a big gulp, and set it down. There was no expression on his face, but I knew he remembered. Remembered Zhu Zhanji saying "she can," remembered me saying "I didn't say I wasn't willing," remembered that at this table, I wasn't a guest, but one of them. Was the Crown Princess. Was the one who would sit beside him in the future. Was the one who would call him Second Uncle in the future. He remembered. Said nothing.
Zhu Gaochi put down the wine cup, looking at me. That glance was very long, so long it was like confirming something. Confirming I could sit here, confirming I could sit beside him, confirming I could sit beside Zhu Zhanji. He looked for a long time. Then he smiled. That smile was very light, just like when he said "just adding a pair of chopsticks." Just like at the Eastern Palace family banquet, when he said "just adding a pair of chopsticks. The Eastern Palace doesn't lack this mouthful of rice." He knew long ago. Since when? Since the family banquet? Since the side hall of the Qianqing Palace? Since I said "it's okay, just a bit cold"? He didn't say. I didn't ask either.
The imperial edict was seen later. Yellow paper, red seal, neat handwriting, just like when Zhu Gaochi approved memorials. I stood at the table, looking at that paper, for a long time. Most of the characters on it I recognized, but put together, I didn't quite understand. Something like "gentle and virtuous nature," something like "careful and respectful in demeanor," something like "taking the correct position in the Eastern Palace." I only understood one sentence. "Invest you as the Crown Princess." I stared at that line of characters, for a long time. Then put it down. The paper was very light, but pressing on my hand, heavy. Like a person's hand, resting on your shoulder, not heavy, but you could feel it. That was his hand. From the alley when he clasped my wrist, from the Northern Desert when he pulled me, from the Eastern Palace side room when he pushed the teapot over. He was always there. Just now, he wrote it down. Written on paper, sealed, letting everyone see.
The ceremonial robes were sent over, Ruolan was beside me, eyes red. "Miss, try it on." She said. Her voice was a bit hoarse, like she had been holding back for a long time. I looked at that set of ceremonial robes, red, gold, embroidered with phoenix patterns. Very heavy. I touched it, the material was soft, but pressing on my hand, heavy. I stood there, looking at that set of ceremonial robes, for a long time. Didn't try it on. Wear it tomorrow. Have to wear it for a long time tomorrow. From morning to night, from the hall to the palace, from the Eastern Palace to the Kunning Palace. Everyone has to see. See me wearing it, standing beside him. He is the Crown Prince, I am the Crown Princess. He is Zhu Zhanji, I am—Song Yu'an. Still the one who fell out of the cricket jar, the one who hit the back of his hand, the one who bandaged him in the Northern Desert, hands shaking so much couldn't hold the medicine bottle steady. The one he asked "you're not willing" to, the one who said "I didn't say I wasn't willing". His person.
(End of Chapter Forty-Two)