The Fourth Prince

The dusk light faded from the hall's glazed tiles, and the palace lanterns lit up one by one.

A man knelt on the white marble steps outside the imperial study. He was an official, and he had been kneeling for nearly four hours. His knees had long since gone numb. Sweat ran down his temples and dripped onto his collar, soaking a small patch dark, but he dared not wipe it away.

The door opened from within, and De'an came out, his fly whisk resting in the crook of his left arm, his footsteps too light to hear. He stopped at the top of the steps and looked down at the kneeling man.

"Please return, my lord. His Majesty is tired today."

The official braced himself against the paving stones and struggled to his feet, his legs trembling badly. A young eunuch nearby hurried forward to support him and helped him away. De'an watched them recede, then turned back into the imperial study and closed the door again.

The memorials piled on the imperial desk stood half a person's height. Qi Xiao put down the Vermilion Brush and raised a hand to rub between his brows. He had been sitting there since the hour of the Rabbit, receiving three groups of people and reviewing more than forty memorials in between. A dull ache lingered around his shoulder blades.

"What time is it?"

"Your Majesty, three quarters past the hour of the Rooster."

Qi Xiao gave a hum and reached for the next memorial. He dipped the Vermilion Brush in ink and drew a red circle on the paper. After reading two lines, he suddenly asked another question.

"Was dinner sent over?"

De'an moved half a step forward. "Your Majesty, it was. The Fourth Prince ate half of it and said..."

Qi Xiao lifted his eyes. "Said what?"

"He said the Imperial Kitchen's sweet-and-sour fish wasn't as good as yesterday's, and told this servant to inform Your Majesty that you must do something about it."

The brush in Qi Xiao's hand stopped in midair. It remained there for two breaths. De'an lowered his head and continued grinding ink. The ink stick made one circuit of the inkstone before the sound of turning memorial pages resumed above him.

Inside the fourth prince's bedchamber, A Ping followed Qi Yu around with a hand towel. "Your Highness, please have another couple of bites. You've eaten so little. You'll be complaining you're hungry again before the hour of the Pig."

Qi Yu stuffed the last piece of sweet-and-sour fish into his mouth. His cheeks bulging, he mumbled, "That's perfect. When I'm hungry, I'll go ask Father for snacks. The cakes at his place are better than ours."

Caught between laughter and tears, A Ping handed him the towel. "Your Highness, you've already run to the imperial study twice this afternoon. First to deliver tea, then to deliver snacks. It's not as if His Majesty has no one attending him."

"They don't do a good job." Qi Yu wiped his hands, stuffed the towel into A Ping's arms, and headed outside.

A Ping hurried after him and blocked the doorway. "Your Highness, my godfather specifically sent word today that His Majesty received several groups of ministers and was so busy all day he didn't even have a proper midday meal. If you go now..."

A Ping opened his mouth. He knew his master's temper all too well. He seemed all smiles and easygoing all day long, but once he grew stubborn, he would listen to no one. In the entire palace, probably only the man in Xuanzheng Hall could make him heed a word.

He sighed and jogged after him. Ahead, his prince had already begun humming a little tune. A Ping had no idea what song it was, a line from here and a line from there, though pieced together, it was not unpleasant.

The boy walked quickly, the evening wind lifting and dropping the hem of his robes. Following behind, A Ping suddenly remembered something his godfather De'an had told him.

"The Fourth Prince grew up at His Majesty's side. When the other princes in this palace want to see His Majesty, they must be announced, must wait, must see whether His Majesty has time.

"The Fourth Prince needn't. The day he learned to walk, His Majesty had a little couch placed for him in the imperial study. It's been eleven years, and that couch has stayed there all this time. His Majesty has never had it removed." A Ping had asked why.

De'an had given him a look as though he were an idiot.

A row of palace lanterns hung beneath the imperial study's covered walkway, illuminating the steps brightly. The young eunuch stationed outside saw the approaching figure from afar and knew who it was without asking. He stepped aside, hands lowered. By the time Qi Yu reached the entrance, his hand was already halfway through pushing the door open.

He glanced back at A Ping, withdrew his hand, straightened his collar, and brushed some nonexistent dust from his sleeve. Then he raised his hand and knocked softly three times.

"Father, Qi Yu requests an audience."

After two breaths of silence inside, a low voice sounded.

"Come in."

Qi Yu pushed open the door and stepped one foot inside before the rest of him emerged from behind it. Behind the imperial desk, Qi Xiao put down his brush and leaned back in his chair, looking at him.

Candlelight left half his face bright and half in shadow. Sure enough, that fine vertical crease sat between his brows. Qi Yu entered and stopped three paces from the imperial desk. Lifting his robe, he knelt with perfect propriety, raised his overlapped hands above his head, and pressed his forehead to their backs.

"Your son pays his respects, Father."

Qi Xiao said nothing. Qi Yu held that position for several breaths before Qi Xiao finally spoke.

"Rise."

Qi Yu stood, brushed nonexistent dust from his knees, and looked up at him, a smile already on his face. "Father, haven't you rested at all today?"

"You came this morning, and again this afternoon."

"That's different." Qi Yu walked over, rounded the side of the imperial desk, and tilted his head to study his face. "This morning, I brought you tea. This afternoon, I brought you snacks. Now I've come to fetch you."

"Fetch me?"

"To dinner. Her Majesty the Empress had Yam and Pork Rib Soup simmered in the small kitchen today. She specifically sent someone to tell me to come invite you."

As he spoke, Qi Yu edged another half step closer and touched a finger between Qi Xiao's brows. "Father, whenever you're tired, you get a wrinkle here."

Qi Xiao caught his hand and drew it away from his face, but did not let go.

"You've eaten."

"I have. The sweet-and-sour fish wasn't good. I haven't had any rib soup yet. I'm waiting to have it with you."

"I understand."

"Then when will you go over, Father?"

"Once I've finished these memorials."

Qi Yu looked down at the memorial in his hand, then at the stack on the imperial desk. "How many is 'these'?"

"Five."

"All right." Qi Yu pulled his hand from Qi Xiao's palm and turned toward the little couch nearby. "I'll wait here. You review your memorials, Father. I promise not to disturb you."

He sat on the couch and took the travelogue he had left unfinished yesterday from the small bookshelf beside it. He always kept the book here, its spine facing out, with a bookmark tucked inside. He opened it, settled cross-legged, and spread it across his knees. Qi Xiao glanced at him and picked up the Vermilion Brush again.

The candle flames flickered. The imperial study fell quiet, with only the sound of memorial pages turning and the occasional turn of a book's page.

This was the scene that met De'an when he entered with freshly brewed tea. Behind the imperial desk, the emperor bent his head over the memorials, the Vermilion Brush making a soft, steady sound as it moved across the paper. On the little couch nearby, the Fourth Prince sat cross-legged with a book spread across his knees, absorbed in his reading, a faint smile on his lips. He had probably reached something amusing.

De'an set the teacup on the imperial desk with the lightest movements, then withdrew just as quietly. He stopped outside the door, gathered his sleeves, and lowered his eyes.

Wind swept through the covered walkway, gently swaying the palace lanterns beneath the eaves. He heard the faintest rustle of turning pages inside, then the Fourth Prince muttering something, probably because someone in the book had done something foolish. Then he heard the emperor pause in turning his memorial pages, as though listening to that sound. Afterward, the turning of memorial pages resumed.

De'an had spent nearly thirty years in this palace, from the prince's residence to Xuanzheng Hall. He had watched Qi Xiao go from prince to emperor, and watched that baby who had cried as though his heart were being torn apart grow into a boy who read while waiting for his father.

For instance, when the Fourth Prince was just learning to walk, the mattress on this little couch in the imperial study had been made by the Wardrobe Bureau at His Majesty's command to match the one on the imperial bed, with the same fabric and the same thickness.

For instance, when the Fourth Prince caught smallpox at five, His Majesty had watched over him for three days and nights without closing his eyes. When he attended court on the second day, his eyes had been filled with bloodshot veins.

For instance, he had never seen His Majesty say of any other prince, "Let him enjoy himself to his heart's content." His Majesty only used words like those for one person.

De'an lowered his eyelids and looked at the fly whisk in his hand. A servant had no eyes. He saw what he should see and did not see what he should not. He gathered his sleeves. In the evening wind, he heard a bell ringing in the distance. It was four quarters past the hour of the Rooster.

Inside the imperial study, Qi Yu suddenly looked up halfway through his reading. "Father, I just remembered. I've arranged to go hunting with Xie Ning tomorrow. I'll be leaving the palace first thing in the morning."

Qi Xiao did not look up. "No."

"Why?"

Qi Xiao set down his brush and looked at him. "Last month, your horse spooked while you were riding, and you fell off. You scraped a patch of skin from your right elbow, and your knee was bruised for three days. You've only just healed."

"That was half a month ago." Qi Yu closed his book, jumped off the couch, and walked up to the imperial desk. "Besides, Xie Ning will be there this time. He's a much better rider than I am. He'll look after me. He specifically sent word in yesterday that the deer in the woods at the West Mountain Hunting Grounds have all grown a size fatter. If we don't go now, it'll be too late."

Then let it be too late. "De'an."

The door opened, and De'an appeared in the doorway. "This servant is here." "Send more men with the Fourth Prince when he leaves the palace tomorrow."

"This servant understands."

Qi Xiao glanced at Qi Yu again. "Don't let him go too deep into the woods. The western part is off-limits."

De'an bowed his head. "Yes."

Qi Yu's eyes curved with his smile. He was about to turn and run outside when he seemed to remember something. He stepped back, lifted his robe, and knelt. "Your son thanks you, Father."

Qi Xiao watched him perform a perfectly proper kowtow.

"Go."

Qi Yu rose and walked to the door, then glanced back once more. "Father, remember to go to Mother's for soup." Sitting behind the imperial desk, Qi Xiao heard Qi Yu's voice outside. He was probably saying something to A Ping, laughter in his tone. His footsteps receded farther and farther until they could no longer be heard.

He picked up the Vermilion Brush and turned a page of the memorial. After reading three lines, he set the brush down again.

He raised his hand and touched his knuckles between his brows, where Qi Yu's finger had rested just now. When De'an came in to collect the teacup, he saw the emperor leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, candlelight casting shadows of varying depths across his face.

"De'an."

"This servant is here."

"Have Xie Ting go along tomorrow too. I remember that second son of his principal wife. He rides well, but how old is he, really? Put those two together, and there's no end to their daring."

"This servant will send someone to the Jinghai Marquis Residence with word shortly."

De'an retreated two steps with the teacup, then heard the emperor speak again. "Have Marquis Jinghai himself go too." De'an raised his head and glanced at the emperor. Qi Xiao had already picked up the Vermilion Brush again, his face expressionless.

"This servant obeys."

De'an withdrew outside and stopped beneath the covered walkway. The evening wind had strengthened, making the hem of his robe snap. He handed the teacup to the young eunuch beside him, walked a few steps aside, and leaned against a pillar. Night wind poured into the walkway. De'an straightened, adjusted his cuffs, and returned to the imperial study's door.

The door was closed, candlelight shining through the window paper. The emperor's silhouette fell across the window, his head lowered as he reviewed memorials, stroke by stroke.