ITVCFITB CHAPTER 73

Chapter 73 – A Mother’s Doing

The “important figure” entering the capital was the empress’s old childhood sweetheart. He was of medium build and not very tall; though no longer young, traces of his former handsomeness remained, enough to imagine how striking he must have been in youth. Look closely and you’d see a resemblance to the current Crown Prince. More than a little, in fact.

The answer practically announced itself.

But who brought this man to the capital? Why had he agreed to come back after leaving more than twenty years ago and to what end?

No one knew.

If the Yan clan discovered him, he would be as good as dead.

After slipping into the city, he was quietly housed in an unremarkable residence. Clearly, someone powerful had arranged all this.

Once lodged, Jiang Qizhi never set foot outside. Men watched him daily, whether to protect him or to keep him from bolting, he couldn’t tell.

Days without conversation or news wear a man down. Restless, Jiang asked the two guards, “Brothers, I’ve been cooped up here for days. Let me step out for some air? Just a short walk?”

“No,” came the reply.

“I’ll only go to the end of the lane. You can come with me. I want to buy a few trinkets for my grandson.”

“Still no. Without the master’s order, you’re going nowhere. Tell us what you need; we’ll buy it.”

“But I need to look before I know what to buy. Perhaps some antiques or calligraphy...”

They refused again. Jiang could only pace the courtyard and sigh.

He had no idea what business had brought him back, only that the fee would support his family comfortably for the rest of their lives.

He hadn’t wanted to return. The capital was where his misfortune began, where he lost his chance to rise, and what he least wished to remember.

Affection itself is not a crime; he had erred in the house he turned to. He had erred in letting his heart be moved, coveting what was not his, overestimating himself, being too naïve. If he could live again, he would never let himself be drawn to the Yan family’s young lady.

That “young lady” was now the empress. Their stations were worlds apart.

“Have you any wine?” he tried again. “If I can’t go out, at least bring me a pot.”

The guards ignored him until mealtime, then mentioned it. He was not a prisoner, and small requests could be met.

Two days later he said, “I want to see your master. Why did he bring me here? I’m going moldy in this house. I need an answer.”

He had once promised the Yan clan never to return and to keep what happened with his cousin locked in his gut. But it had been over two decades, who would remember? He was a degree-less scholar who couldn’t even support his family. Someone offered money; he took it.

“We don’t decide whether the master sees you,” a guard said. “We’ll pass along your request. Keep waiting.”

“How long must I wait?” Jiang muttered.

Three more days passed. Still no word.

Then one night, just as he was weighing whether to climb the wall, they blindfolded him and bundled him into a carriage.

Hands tied behind his back, legs bound, Jiang struggled. “Where are you taking me?”

No answer. After an hour the carriage stopped. He was helped down.

They were far from the city’s bustle. Jiang hadn’t been in the capital for over twenty years; after so many turns, he couldn’t tell where he’d been taken.

It was very quiet. Whoever had summoned him was certainly rich and powerful.

He ruled out the Yan clan.

Who else would remember a nobody who had once visited the capital? His only tie had been that distant kinship with the Yans, but he had never been part of their affairs.

Why had someone gone to such lengths to bring him here? The question had gnawed at him for a month.

He wanted the windfall, but not at the price of his life.

The more he thought on it, the worse it felt.

Blindfolded, led down unfamiliar corridors, he grew more panicked, his steps faltering.

Only their three sets of footfalls echoed.

He lost track of time. Then they told him to step up, walked a few more paces, and stopped.

A kick to the back of his knee put him down; the blindfold came off. Jiang found himself kneeling.

“Kneel.”

“Easy, easy. I’m not young, my knees and back can’t take it.”

As his eyes adjusted, he saw first a pair of satin boots; then robes so fine he couldn’t afford even a corner in this life.

Who was he kneeling to?

He had taken their money and dared not pry. The man’s status was clearly high; any further guess froze on Jiang’s tongue. His palms were sweating; his back was damp. He was both nervous and afraid.

Why had this man called him? For what?

As he wrestled with dread, the man in the grand armchair spoke. “You are Jiang Qizhi?”

Jiang rose awkwardly. “I am.”

Up close, the man’s complexion was fair; he looked a bit over forty, the ease and authority of one born to the upper seat in his voice and bearing.

The man studied his face, making Jiang squirm. Who was he, and what did he want?

“Do you know why you’re here?” the man asked.

“I do not, sir. May I know how to address you?”

“My surname is Huang. I only wanted to look at you to verify a few things.”

“My… face?” Jiang touched his cheek. He had some confidence left; he hadn’t gone to seed and looked all right for nearly fifty.

But at his age, what did looks matter? He wasn’t some courtesan who lived by charm.

“Are you not curious what business brings you to the capital?” Master Huang asked.

“I have no acquaintances here,” Jiang said. “I don’t know what you mean.” He had never made enemies.

“You needn’t play dumb,” Huang said. “You’re distant kin of the Yan family. Twenty-six years ago, you came to sit the exams and lodged with them. You haven’t forgotten?”

“I did stay with the Yans for a time,” Jiang admitted. “But I fell ill that winter, the capital’s cold didn’t suit me. I missed the examinations, lost heart, and left. I had nothing more to do with them after.”

“Then why never test again?” Huang pressed. “You studied for years. Weren’t you the local licentiate top-scorer? One missed chance, fine, but why not try again three years later?”

Jiang had no answer.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, he had promised the Yan clan he would not.

He veered away. “Why ask about such trivial past things, Master Huang? Even I hardly remember them.”

“Because,” Huang said, “you fell in love with the Right Chancellor’s daughter and hoped to fly away with her, didn’t you?”

Jiang’s legs failed him; he sank back to his knees. If he couldn’t guess who sat before him now, these years of hiding had been for nothing.

The fear he’d lived with had finally come calling.

“Back then, back then nothing happened,” Jiang stammered. “It was one-sided. The young lady and I had no entanglement. It was my fault, harboring improper thoughts. Yan-laoye threw me out. Ashamed, I went home and never tested again.”

“I believe not a word,” Huang said. “I only trust my own eyes. Men, put him under guard.”

“Yes,” came the reply.

Jiang’s knees shook uncontrollably.

Huang-laoye kept invoking the Yans. Who else could he be?

The emperor.

Indeed, Emperor Tiansheng had spent years finding Jiang Qizhi. The Yan clan hadn’t gone to the extreme back then; they’d let Jiang leave alive. They hadn’t imagined the emperor would one day track him down.

This was a royal disgrace. Jiang had only two paths: die, or serve as evidence to topple the Yans.

At the first sight of Jiang, fury surged in the emperor. The Yans were beyond brazen, they had insulted him outright.

Had he never learned the truth, would he not have gone to his grave a cosmic joke?

He had come in person nursing one last sliver of hope for the empress, that the woman beside him all these years had not lied, that the Crown Prince merely looked more Yan than Li. One look at Jiang shattered the last two decades of self-deception into dust.

Back in the palace that night, the emperor coughed blood. Rage clogged his chest.

The Crown Prince and the Fourth rushed to his side. With the strength he had left, the emperor ordered the eunuchs to keep the empress and Crown Prince from his chambers.

The baffled Crown Prince knelt outside the hall and refused to rise. The empress sighed inwardly. How timely, this illness.

The Fourth thought the opposite: the timing was terrible. He had not yet laid hands on the emperor’s hidden levers; his father could not be allowed to fail now. He ordered the imperial physicians to wake the emperor at any cost. Cure him? Not necessary, only keep him conscious.

News of the emperor’s illness spread.

The four favored consorts lined up to visit; none were admitted.

When the emperor roused, he wanted no one, except Consort Mei. He named her to attend him. He wished to see no one else.

Seeing the others only stirred bitter memories. Only Consort Mei, and the Third Prince, could quiet his heart.

Consort Mei was still as cool as ever; even with the emperor bedridden, her tongue was sharp. She was not soft. Oddly, the emperor now found that comforting. Soft cooing only deepened sorrow; plain truth soothed better.

With Mei attending him, his condition stabilized. His spirits also lifted.

“Medicine,” she said, as blank as ever.

He frowned. “It’s bitter. I don’t want it.”

She set the bowl down with a thump. “Drink or don’t. It’s not my body.”

The old eunuch opened his mouth to coax her into kinder words, but before he could, the emperor yielded.

“All right, all right, I’ll drink. It’s my body. I’ll take care of it.”

The eunuch: “…” In all your long life, Your Majesty, who knew you could be cowed by a consort?

“Exactly,” Mei said evenly. “If you don’t cherish yourself, who will?”

After he drank, the emperor murmured, “You’re right. The simplest truths are best.”

“Since there’s nothing seriously wrong,” she said, “I’ll go tend my garden.”

These days, confidants were scarce. The more time he spent with Mei, the more he appreciated her: simple, cool, clear in right and wrong, no affectations, calling a thing what it was. With her there, he even ate better.

“Wait,” he said, grasping at any reason to keep her. “Gonggong just said there’s a letter from Old Third. Won’t you read it with me?”

She hesitated. “What’s there to see? He wrote to you, not to me.”

“It’s the same, the same.”

She sniffed. “Then I’ll reluctantly take a look.”

The eunuch: “…” Why are you both so stiff-necked?

Still, with Consort Mei around, the emperor was plainly happier.

---

Midwinter in Gucheng. The people were bundled in thick cotton.

Li Mingjin and Luo Shuyu stayed indoors, reading letters, one from the emperor, and one from Consort Mei, delivered together.

“That’s odd,” Luo Shuyu said. “Why did their letters arrive as a set?”

Holding him close, Li Mingjin’s voice turned low. “Mother Consort has stepped into this, after all.”

A family letter, yes, but one could read the decision she’d made.

A mother knows her son best, but what son does not also know what his mother has done?

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