Fifteen

On the first day of the Autumn Examination, before dawn had fully broken over Capital City, the stone lions outside the Examination Compound were already brightly lit by torches. The candidates lined up, each carrying an examination basket with a thin blanket draped over his shoulders, and filed inside. The soldiers at the entrance searched them one by one. The dry provisions in their baskets had to be broken open, their brush shafts unscrewed, and even their shoes taken off so the soles could be inspected. One candidate had worn a hole through his sole. A soldier poked a finger into it, confirmed there was no slip of paper hidden inside, and waved him through. The man hopped inward on one foot while putting his shoe back on, his basket rattling in his hand.

The gates of the Examination Compound rumbled shut at six in the morning. The two gate panels were thick and heavy, and as they closed, they cut off every sound outside. Inside and outside became two different worlds. Within, there was only the rustle of examination papers and the scrape of patrolling soldiers' boots. Outside, the long street stood empty. Even the breakfast stalls opened an hour later than usual. The stallholders knew no one would come for breakfast today. The candidates had all gone inside, and their families were all waiting. Those who waited needed no breakfast, only a result.

The teahouse, however, opened earlier than usual. The proprietor took down the door panels and set a table outside, placing a pot of tea and several empty bowls on it. He was not doing it for business, but to give people somewhere to sit. Sure enough, someone arrived just after daybreak. A woman in a gray silk gown, accompanied by two maids, sat in the outermost seat by the entrance. She ordered a pot of tea but did not drink it, her eyes fixed in the direction of the Examination Compound. A maid said, "Madam, please have some tea. It's gone cold." She was the wife of a director in the Ministry of Rites. Her eldest son was sitting the examination for the first time this year.

Incense offerings in Capital City were ten times more plentiful than usual. A long line filled the Hall of Heavenly Kings at Great Xiangguo Temple, all women who had come to burn incense. Some offered incense and candles, some offered fruit, and some placed whole ingots of silver in the donation box. They knelt on the cushions, palms pressed together, murmuring prayers. They were all praying for the same thing. The old monk of Great Xiangguo Temple stood outside the hall, looking at the women's backs, passing his prayer beads through his fingers one by one, very slowly. He saw this scene every year: the same people, the same incense offerings, the same murmured prayers. Yet among the women kneeling on the cushions each year, there were always a few who would not return the next. It was not that they stopped coming; their sons had passed, gone elsewhere to take office, and they had followed them. Every visit meant offerings of incense, donations for lamp oil, and a carriage ride. Every part of it cost money.

Incense was burned at the Jinghai Marquis Residence as well. Madam Xie offered three sticks of sandalwood incense in her private shrine and knelt on a cushion with her eyes closed. She was not praying for Xie Ning. Xie Ning was only fifteen, not yet old enough to sit the examination. She was praying for a distant nephew from her maiden family, who was also taking it this year. Once she had finished burning incense, she rose from the cushion. Dust clung to her knees, and a maid crouched to brush it off. Looking down at that patch of dust, she suddenly remembered kneeling here to burn incense when she was young. Back then, Xie Ting had just returned from the Northern Border with injuries. What she had prayed for in the shrine was not scholarly honors, but his safety. Later, Xie Ting's wounds had healed and he had been made a marquis. She had come here to burn incense once more, praying that the standing of the Jinghai Marquis Residence would never fall. Over the years, what she prayed for had changed from safety to honors, then from honors back to safety. It changed again and again, but she still knelt on the same cushion. She helped the maid up, straightened her own robes, and left the shrine. Out in the courtyard, Xie Ning was practicing with his staff. She stood beneath the covered walkway for a while, watching her son practice, and the clack of his staff gradually dispersed that bit of anxiety she could not quite explain. Xie Ning finished his practice and turned to see his mother beneath the walkway. He gave her a broad grin.

The incense in the palace had not ceased either. The consorts all had their own small shrines. Consort Jing burned sandalwood incense and added a butter lamp. The lamp's cotton wick had just been replaced, and its flame burned steadily, reflected on the enshrined statue of Guanyin, whose face brightened and dimmed in the light. She knelt on the cushion, but unlike the other consorts, she did not pray for her son to achieve high honors in the examination. She prayed that he would be safe and his life would go smoothly, that he would worry less and live more easily. She knelt for a long time, until the oil in the butter lamp had fallen noticeably. Only when Cuizhu gently tapped the doorframe outside did she open her eyes and slowly rise. Her legs had gone numb, and she swayed. Cuizhu hurried forward to support her.

There was no incense burning in Yuning Hall, however. Qi Yu had been exceptionally well-behaved these past few days. So well-behaved that even A Ping could not get used to it. He got up in the morning without being called, dressed himself, and sat at the table waiting for breakfast. After breakfast, he opened a book himself and read, though it was still the travelogue he had read several times already. He no longer bickered with the Second Prince during lessons, nor did he run to Xuanzheng Hall afterward. In the past, he had gone to Xuanzheng Hall at least twice a day, once in the morning to deliver snacks and once in the afternoon to help himself to tea. These past two days, he had not gone once. Even De'an had noticed something amiss. The day before yesterday, he had specifically sent a young eunuch to ask whether the Fourth Prince was feeling unwell. A Ping went to ask Qi Yu, who lay sprawled over the table leafing through his travelogue and said without lifting his head that he was not unwell. A Ping then asked why he was no longer going to Xuanzheng Hall. Qi Yu turned a page and said he was studying hard.

The place where he worked hard was not the Imperial Study. He had finished the policy essay Grand Tutor Sun assigned. Though it was only a page and a half, he had written every word himself. After finishing, he had even, for the first time ever, asked Qin Wei to help revise it. Qin Wei took the revisions even more seriously than the grand tutor. Qi Yu sat beside him, watching him circle things in his exercise book, and suddenly said, "Qin Wei, if you weren't from a military family, you'd definitely pass the Autumn Examination." Without looking up, Qin Wei said that people from military families could take it too. Qi Yu asked whether he would take it in the future, then. Qin Wei stopped writing, thought for a moment, and said they would see when the time came. Then he pushed the book back to Qi Yu.

He had also gone to the Eastern Palace for two meals. But once he had eaten, he left without lingering. He brought his travelogue along, and after eating, he tucked it into his sleeve, told his crown prince brother he was leaving, and really did leave. Fu Shun saw him to the door, then returned and asked the Crown Prince whether the Fourth Prince had undergone a change of temperament these past two days. Qi Ling was reviewing documents. He glanced up toward the doorway and said nothing.

On the fifteenth, Qi Yu knew what day it was as soon as he woke. He sat on the bed, watching Chunhe push open the window. The weather outside was lovely. He dressed, ate breakfast, and fed the rabbits. The gray rabbit was particularly lively today, crunching loudly on its carrot. The light gray rabbit lay beside it, nudging its neck with its head. Qi Yu crouched before the cage and watched them for quite a while, then pushed the last piece of carrot inside and stood up.

"A Ping, Father is going to Jiaofang Hall tonight."

A Ping was wiping the table. His hand paused. "Yes. Today is the fifteenth."

Qi Yu murmured an acknowledgment. He went to the desk and opened his travelogue. He read a page, then turned another. When he reached the third page, he raised his head and glanced out the window. More than half the leaves on the persimmon tree outside had already yellowed, though its fruit was still green. He closed the book, stood up, and made a circuit of the room. Reaching the door, he turned back, sat at the edge of the bed, and picked up his pillow to pat it. The cotton pillow made soft thumping sounds beneath his hands. He put it back, stood up, and made another circuit. A Ping stood where he was with the cleaning cloth in hand, watching his prince circle the room twice before finally stopping in front of the bookshelf.

"Your Highness, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Qi Yu pulled a book from the shelf, flipped through two pages, and stuffed it back. "I'm sleeping by myself tonight."

A Ping opened his mouth. He wanted to say, Your Highness, haven't you always slept by yourself, except when you pester that certain someone? But he did not say it. He merely transferred the cloth to his other hand and continued wiping the table. Of course he knew why his prince was pacing in circles. On the fifteenth of every month, the emperor went to Jiaofang Hall. That was the rule. Everyone in the palace knew this was the dignity Emperor Chengwu afforded the empress. Qi Yu knew too. He had known for as long as he could remember. When he was little, his father never spent the night at Xuanzheng Hall on the fifteenth, and he slept in his own bed in Yuning Hall. Later, as he grew older, he began squeezing into his father's imperial bed, but he never brought it up on the fifteenth.

At a quarter to seven that evening, in the western warm chamber of Xuanzheng Hall, Qi Xiao finished reviewing the last memorial and set down his vermilion brush. De'an stepped forward to put away the memorials and cover the inkstone. His Majesty would not be spending the night at Xuanzheng Hall, so the imperial desk had to be tidied. Qi Xiao leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a while. Thinking he had fallen asleep, De'an quietly carried away the teacup. He heard the emperor's voice as he reached the door.

"De'an."

"Your servant is here."

"Why hasn't my fourth son come these past two days?"

De'an set the teacup on the low table beside the door and turned around. "Your Majesty, the Fourth Prince has been studying hard in the Imperial Study these past two days. He spent three days writing the policy essay Grand Tutor Sun assigned and only handed it in yesterday."

Qi Xiao opened his eyes. "Three days?"

"Yes. I heard he even asked Qin Wei to help revise it afterward. Young Master Qin revised it very carefully. When the Fourth Prince took it to the grand tutor, the grand tutor said he had improved."

Qi Xiao leaned back in his chair and tapped a finger against the armrest once, saying nothing. De'an waited a while before speaking again. "The Fourth Prince hasn't been lingering over meals at the Eastern Palace these past two days either. Fu Shun, who serves His Highness the Crown Prince, said the Fourth Prince went twice, but left right after eating both times without staying."

Qi Xiao was silent for a moment. "What is he eating tonight?"

"Your Majesty, Yuning Hall's private kitchen stewed pork rib and Chinese yam soup today. It came from the same pot as the soup Your Majesty had last time." De'an kept his voice very level as he spoke those last few words. Qi Xiao stood and straightened his cuffs. The subtle silver-thread embroidery on the cuffs of his black informal robes flashed in the candlelight. He took two steps toward the door, then suddenly said, "To Jiaofang Hall." De'an followed, his fly whisk resting in the crook of his arm, and gave the young eunuch at the door a meaningful look. The young eunuch understood and hurried ahead to announce their arrival at Jiaofang Hall.

The palace lanterns in Jiaofang Hall had already been lit. Empress Xiao Luo sat on the couch by the window with a book in her hand. She had not sat before her dressing table checking the mirror over and over like the other consorts. The emperor came on the fifteenth of every month. After he arrived, they exchanged a few words, then each retired to rest. She did not need to dress up especially for him. She had been like this for years. When he came, she did not go out to greet him. When he did not, she did not complain. Beside the teacup on her windowsill sat a plate of osmanthus cakes, freshly made by the private kitchen that day. They sat within reach, not a single piece touched. The cakes had been prepared for the Fourth Prince. Whenever Qi Yu came to Jiaofang Hall, he would first sit with her for a while before going to Xuanzheng Hall. Today, Qi Yu had not come. Nor had she sent anyone to fetch him. She knew why the child was not coming today.

Footsteps sounded outside, accompanied by De'an's announcement. The palace doors opened, and Qi Xiao walked in, still carrying the scent of sandalwood incense from Xuanzheng Hall. Xiao Luo put down her book, rose, and curtsied. Qi Xiao murmured an acknowledgment and sat in a chair. Xiao Luo poured a cup of tea herself and placed it beside him.

"Has Your Majesty had dinner?"

"I ate in the warm chamber."

Xiao Luo said nothing more. She picked up her book again, reclined on the couch, and turned a page. The paper rustled, soft and gentle in the quiet bedchamber. Qi Xiao sat in his chair, holding the teacup, his gaze settling on the plate of osmanthus cakes on the windowsill. The cakes had been cut into diamonds, their surfaces studded with dried osmanthus blossoms. He looked at them for a while, then withdrew his gaze and took a sip of tea.

The moon rose outside the window, shining into Jiaofang Hall's courtyard and casting the shadow of its osmanthus tree onto the window paper. The blossoms were in full bloom, their fragrance drifting through the gaps in the window. A sweet scent filled the courtyard, impossible to suppress. Xiao Luo turned a page, caught the osmanthus fragrance, and looked outside. She remembered when Qi Yu was little. One autumn, the osmanthus had bloomed especially profusely. Qi Yu had picked a handful of blossoms in the courtyard, run up to her, and opened his palm, saying, "Mother, smell these." She had lowered her head to smell them and said they were very fragrant. Qi Yu had then put the blossoms in her hair, saying that with osmanthus in her hair, Mother was an osmanthus fairy. Later, those few blossoms had fallen somewhere, but every year when the osmanthus bloomed, she remembered.

De'an stood perfectly straight beneath the covered walkway outside the hall. A young eunuch from Jiaofang Hall brought him a stool, but he waved a hand and did not sit. Moonlight shone on the steps, making the white marble gleam silver. His hands tucked into his sleeves, he recalled the young eunuch who had come to report just before they left that evening, saying that when dinner was cleared away at Yuning Hall, only half a bowl of pork rib soup had been drunk. De'an lowered his head and looked at the small patch of bluestone before the tips of his boots, saying nothing.

In Yuning Hall, Qi Yu had already changed into his nightclothes and was lying in his own bed. Chunhe had lowered half the bed curtains for him, leaving the other half open to let in the moonlight. Moonlight filtered through the window paper and fell on the quilt, making the subtle embroidery on the brocade gleam silvery white. He lay on his side, his cheek resting on his own cotton pillow. The pillowcase was still the old one. The faded embroidery at its corner was indistinguishable in the moonlight. He stared at the ceiling for a while with his eyes open, then turned over and buried his face in the pillow. The pillow smelled of soap pods, not ambergris. He had grown up with the scent of ambergris and knew where he was even with his eyes closed. At this moment, he could not smell ambergris, but he still knew clearly where he was. In Yuning Hall, in his own bed, on a night when he could not go to Xuanzheng Hall.

Crunching sounds came from the side hall. It was the gray rabbit gnawing on a carrot. The light gray rabbit was probably beside it too. Qi Yu pulled the quilt up to cover his chin. Outside the window, the moon was full again. As full as it had been that night when he fell asleep nestled in his father's arms. He closed his eyes, then opened them again. He rolled over and draped a leg over the quilt. His father's arm was not lying across him on the quilt, so he pressed his own arm against it. After a while, it felt wrong, and he pulled his arm away again. Later, he fell asleep. In his dreams, he kicked the quilt off the bed.

All of Capital City was asleep. The candles in the Examination Compound were still burning. In their examination cells, the candidates bent over narrow writing boards, their brushes flying. Some chewed their brush shafts, some rubbed their eyes, and some blew on the ink on their answer sheets to dry it. Candlelight danced across the paper, making every face brighten and dim. Gu Hengsheng was in the cell by the wall. He had replaced the tip of his brush, and the ink in his inkstone had been freshly ground that morning. He wrote steadily, every character as solid as the road he had walked from Henan Circuit to Capital City. Wind rose outside the window, making the Examination Compound's flagpole creak.