With a boom like winter thunder exploding beside her ear, the doors of the great hall were kicked open from outside. Scorching wind surged in, and a man lunged inside.
“Stop!”
Zhao Zheng’s voice was urgent, his movements swift as he rushed toward Jiang He. When Jiang He abruptly turned around, all she saw was his tightly furrowed brow, his expression of burning anxiety, and his ink-black robes whipping in the wind.
“What are you doing…” Jiang He’s voice caught in her throat; Zhao Zheng was already before her.
He came as though carrying the force of thunder, as if to stop and crush something.
Jiang He instinctively shrank back, but Zhao Zheng had already reached out to take the opened gourd from the table.
The gourd was right by Jiang He’s hand. Instinctively, she snatched it first.
The next instant, Zhao Zheng’s rushing figure did not pause. He reached out and seized her wrist.
Jiang He’s force of evasion collided with Zhao Zheng’s force of seizure. With a cry of alarm, she fell from the dressing stool, while the gourd in her hand was flung high into the air amid their struggle.
Zhao Zheng did not let go of Jiang He’s wrist and was dragged down to the floor with her.
Two thuds rang out as the gourd fell to the ground, but the white medicinal powder had already drifted into the air like a slow spring drizzle, lingering for an instant before fluttering down in a flurry.
And Jiang He had already fallen to the floor, with Zhao Zheng pressing down on top of her.
In shame, anger, and indignation, Jiang He shouted in a low voice, “Get off!” and struggled to rise.
But Zhao Zheng pressed down, his voice even angrier than hers.
“Don’t move!”
One arm braced against the floor, while with the other he lifted his wide sleeve and flipped it back over their heads, shielding them from the light above.
In that narrow space, the black sleeve covered Zhao Zheng and Jiang He from head to toe, leaving only a few faint slivers of light.
She could feel his short, tense breaths. His rising and falling chest brushed against her lapels with every breath, and his knee struck the floor, pinning her legs firmly in place.
This posture inevitably called to mind the things the instructing matrons at the temporary palace had taught.
Jiang He’s face flushed and her heart pounded, shame and anger unbearable, yet outside the sleeve, the white medicinal powder seemed as though it would never fully disperse.
It was only a bottle of medicine sent by his younger brother, yet he had rushed over as though facing a mortal enemy to stop it. As it turned out, the two brothers were even more bitterly opposed than she had imagined.
After a long while, Zhao Zheng carefully lifted his sleeve, rose, and began taking off his clothes.
The clothes had been dusted with medicinal powder. To prevent the powder from seeping through the skin into the flesh, someone as cautious as Zhao Zheng would never wear that outfit again.
He removed his outer robe and looked at Jiang He, a trace of anger still in his expression. “Go take off your clothes and bathe.”
Jiang He turned her back to him. Her visibly furious cheeks were flushed bright red as she searched the floor for something.
Seeing that she did not obey, but instead crouched down to pick up a hairpin that had fallen beside the gourd, Zhao Zheng could not help stepping closer.
“I told you to undress and bathe. Did you hear me?” His voice was low, already extremely impatient.
Jiang He ignored him.
She picked up the hairpin and wiped away the ointment clinging to it with her sleeve.
Zhao Zheng had already come up behind Jiang He. As he spoke, he grabbed her collar and yanked her upward.
The force was so great it was as though he meant to throw her out.
But Jiang He abruptly stood and forcefully knocked Zhao Zheng’s hand away.
“Who asked for your kindness?” she snapped. “It’s only medicinal powder. Look at this!”
The hairpin in Jiang He’s hand was the one she had used not long ago to stir together the medicinal powder and pearl cream. Its shaft was pure silver and could be used to test whether the ointment was poisonous.
Now that so much time had passed, the shaft remained completely intact, with no trace of corrosion or staining from poison.
Zhao Zheng’s gaze swept over the hairpin shaft. Only then did he understand that when he had pushed the doors open, she had merely been studying whether it was poisonous, and he relaxed slightly.
At least she had not been stupid enough to seek death.
“It cannot be used.” Some of the anger faded from his voice, but his expression remained guarded. “This may not be poisonous on its own, but that does not mean it will not become poisonous when mixed with other things you use.”
This could not be used, that could not be used. Was she supposed to simply endure the pain of being bound every night, both arms swollen?
“Then I truly must thank Your Majesty for the reminder.” Jiang He sneered as she folded back her sleeve, her voice clear. “If Your Majesty had not suddenly charged in, the whole room would not be full of medicinal powder!”
Zhao Zheng’s expression stiffened, and he did not speak.
“If Your Majesty were not so excessively cautious, this consort would not have had the red marks on her wrists seen by others.”
Jiang He had already rolled up her sleeve. Though only two days had passed, the bruised marks were already exceedingly obvious. It was difficult to imagine what kind of days she would have if, from now on, every night she slept beside him meant being bound.
That trash, that damned pervert!
Zhao Zheng lowered his eyes, cold light flickering in them, and asked, “He saw?”
She had shown him her injuries, yet all he cared about was what Zhao Jiao had seen.
“So what if he did?”
Jiang He smeared the last remaining bit of ointment onto her wrist. Zhao Zheng wanted to stop her, but it was already too late.
“The matters between you brothers have nothing to do with me.”
Jiang He walked to the dressing case, opened the lowest drawer, and took out a small bundle.
Inside the bundle were the letters Wei Ji had written to her. They were the only things she had brought from the temporary palace that belonged to her.
“Call the maids in to clean up.”
Jiang He lifted her foot and walked out, her small figure as upright as a bone that could not be broken.
The ointment applied over the ligature marks felt cool. When she looked again after a while, the bruised areas were no longer so red.
As expected, it was not poisonous.
Zhao Jiao had presented the gourd in front of palace maids and female officials. If she died because of it, even a slight investigation would trace it back to Zhao Jiao.
And if Zhao Zheng truly wanted to punish Zhao Jiao, even if nothing happened to Jiang He, this one gourd would be enough to stir up all manner of trouble.
Jiang He believed that Zhao Jiao, who appeared unruly, debauched, and eccentric on the outside, was not that stupid.
Zhao Zheng was wary of him, but how could he not be wary of this elder brother in return?
After all, the one who currently held power was Zhao Zheng. If Lord Chang’an, Zhao Jiao, wished to stir the winds and clouds of Great Yong, he was still lacking the necessary heat.
Jiang He sat on the palace steps as a faint breeze stirred, leaning askew against a tall osmanthus tree.
The eunuchs and palace maids followed from afar, not daring to approach.
This was the palace of the ruler and queen. Jiang He could be a little freer here, without being bound by court etiquette.
She placed the bundle on her knees and opened it, taking out the first letter.
The letter was written on silk and placed inside an envelope sewn from lambskin.
After reaching an agreement with Zhao Zheng at the temporary palace, Jiang He had only had time to arrange the letters in chronological order, and had not yet read them.
What entered her eyes was Wei Ji’s lively and handsome seal script. Though some characters differed from the way they were written in Qi, she could roughly understand them.
“It has been more than a month since our parting. I have safely returned to Luoyang. All matters are settled; Sister He, do not worry. I sent men to search for Envoy-in-Chief Jiang’s remains, but they have not yet been found. I am ashamed, and think of it constantly.”
This was the first letter Wei Ji had written after escorting her back to Linzi, the capital of Qi, and then returning to Luoyang, the capital of Wei.
Envoy-in-Chief Jiang was Jiang He’s father, the chief envoy of Qi’s diplomatic mission to Wei.
Wei Ji knew what weighed on her heart and had helped her search for her father’s remains.
But how could it be that easy?
Several months had passed since the incident, and those assassins might very well have been acting on the orders of the ruler of Wei.
Jiang He suddenly did not dare read the letters that followed.
Later, had they found him? Where had he been buried?
All these years, no one had visited his grave even once. Was he lonely?
Jiang He folded the letter and tucked it back into the envelope, then stared blankly toward the east.
She had to keep walking on. She had to find her father’s remains and bury him together with her mother.
She had to go to Luoyang and take a look, to ask that spirited young man one question.
“I know where the thing those assassins wanted back then is now. Do you want it?”
The sun slowly moved overhead, and half a day slipped by in the blink of an eye. Dusk was like the rouge gradually fading from a beauty’s face, going from brilliance to desolation. A cool wind rose, and night arrived.
Jiang He felt a little hungry.
If one wanted to live well, one first had to eat one’s fill. Time to eat.
From noon until now, several shichen had already passed.
Aside from delivering clear tea to Zhao Zheng, the chief eunuch Li Wenzhou had nothing else to do.
So-called clear tea was in truth only boiled water cooled to a suitable drinking temperature.
Ever since someone had poisoned a tea bowl that year, Zhao Zheng had only drunk plain water.
Plain water was clear and tasteless, and would not conceal the scent of poison.
When delivering the clear tea, Li Wenzhou secretly stole a glance. Zhao Zheng’s expression was terrible. It was exactly the same as that year in Luoyang, when all his personal guards had been executed.
“These guards harbored treacherous intentions and cannot be spared.”
That was what those officials in Luoyang, the capital of Wei, had said.
Nine-year-old Zhao Zheng had walked into the hostage residence without a word and sat inside the hall for an entire day without making a sound. He had looked just like this.
But today, he was already the ruler of Great Yong. Let alone Luoyang, the capital of Wei—even the whole of Wei could be trampled beneath Great Yong’s iron cavalry at any moment.
Yet Zhao Zheng still had moments of such anger, shame, and fury.
“Your Majesty.” Li Wenzhou glanced at the position of the floating indicator in the dragon-mouth clepsydra[1], confirmed the time, and stepped forward. “It is time for the evening meal.”
Zhao Zheng, who had been lowering his head to flip through bamboo slips, raised his head. After thinking for a moment, he still asked, “Is the queen all right?”
“She is all right.” Li Wenzhou smiled and said respectfully, “The queen finished reading the letters on the steps before the hall, sat in silence for a while, then returned to eat. According to custom, she should be waiting for Your Majesty.”
Reading letters. That bundle contained those letters of hers from the floor of the embassy?
She would not wait for him to eat together.
Zhao Zheng looked outside.
With her reckless manner of eating as though her life depended on it, how could she possibly wait for someone else?
“I will eat here.”
Zhao Zheng rose and walked toward the rear hall. The brightly lit great hall was as bright as daytime, but the candlelight was glaring and somewhat uncomfortable.
After the meal, the imperial physician in charge of examining the medicinal powder also arrived and reported that there was nothing improper about the powder; moreover, it had been prepared in the same manner as they themselves would have done.
In other words, Lord Chang’an had been wronged.
Yet when every rustle of grass sounded like an approaching enemy, that was precisely how one ought to be.
That woman was too foolish and did not understand the dangers within the palace walls.
Only when night had grown deep did Zhao Zheng return to Zhiyang Palace.
As expected, Jiang He had not waited for him.
Not only had she already finished eating, she had even gone to sleep. Whether to anger him or not, that gourd had been washed clean and hung by the bedhead, where it swayed faintly in the night wind.
Zhao Zheng lowered his head and looked at Jiang He.
She lay on her side with her eyes closed. Her long lashes cast layered shadows over her snow-white skin, her breathing was steady and long, her chest rising and falling slightly. On her tender wrist, the red marks had already faded somewhat.
Zhao Zheng opened the hidden compartment, took out the thin cord, and sat down beside Jiang He.
“Damned pervert.”
Out of nowhere, he heard her murmur in her sleep.
Who was she cursing? So unpleasant.
Zhao Zheng lifted Jiang He’s arm and placed it on the thin cord.
…
Notes
[1] Ancient tools for measuring time included the gnomon, sundial, and clepsydra. “Lou” refers to the water vessel used for timekeeping, while “ke” refers to the units into which a day was divided. The time of a full day and night was measured by the floating indicator in the clepsydra.