A Man

Qi Yu said he was afraid of ghosts, but Qi Xiao did not believe a word of it.

The boy had been clambering all over Xuanzheng Hall since he was two. He had stacked memorials in the imperial study like building blocks, crawled under the imperial bed after a cat, and poked a hornets' nest on a beam in the Side Hall. What had ever frightened him? Not thunder, not lightning. The first time he rode a horse, he was jolted off and bruised his knees all over, yet the next day he climbed right back into the saddle. His talk of being afraid of ghosts now came down to nothing more than having read a few too many storybooks.

He had even swiped those storybooks from Fu Shun at the Eastern Palace. Fu Shun had said a new batch had arrived, telling stories about fox spirits repaying kindness. The fox spirits turned into beautiful women and slipped through gaps in the windows at midnight, targeting scholars in particular. Qi Yu read a few pages and claimed he was not afraid, but when he got up in the middle of the night to relieve himself and heard a rabbit stir in its cage as he passed the Side Hall, he jumped and took to his heels, running straight for the bedchamber.

"Father, you have to watch over me tonight." He tossed his cotton-covered pillow onto the imperial bed and burrowed under the covers, leaving only his eyes showing. "If a fox spirit comes tonight, it'll be afraid of your dragon aura."

"You're a prince. You have dragon aura too."

"Mine isn't enough. Yours is stronger, Father." He said this quite openly, without the slightest trace of guilt on his face.

Qi Xiao leaned against the headboard, reviewing the last few memorials, and did not send him away. He could not get rid of him anyway. That spot beside him on the imperial bed had already become Qi Yu's regular sleeping place. His pillow was in position, the covers were tucked down, and the horn lantern by the bed had been turned to its dimmest setting. He curled beneath the covers with a tuft of hair showing, his breathing slowly growing even.

Qi Xiao did not know how much time had passed before the tossing and turning beside him woke him. He turned his head and took a look by the dim yellow light of the horn lantern. Qi Yu was curled beneath the covers, his brow slightly furrowed and his breathing a little quick, as though he were chasing something in his dream. Qi Xiao did not wake him. He merely set the memorial beside his hand aside and turned to look at the sky outside. The window paper was still a deep, dark blue; dawn was some time away yet.

Qi Xiao watched that head turning restlessly from side to side. He did not answer his question, only said that they would talk about the future when it came. Qi Yu murmured an acknowledgment and tucked his face another half inch beneath the covers.

The wind outside stopped. Qi Yu's breathing gradually steadied, and his fingers slowly loosened their grip on the corner of the quilt. He had fallen asleep. Qi Xiao looked at the face that had finally grown still and reached out to draw the quilt he had kicked askew back over his shoulders, his movements exceedingly gentle. Then he leaned back against the headboard, picked up the memorial from the low table, and continued reviewing it. De'an coughed softly outside the door, a reminder that it was nearly time for morning court. Qi Xiao acknowledged him but did not get up at once. He lowered his head to look at the boy curled beside him. Half of Qi Yu's face was buried in his cotton-covered pillow, and a very faint red mark had appeared at some point on the exposed cheek, probably from rubbing against something in his sleep. Qi Xiao watched him for a moment, then rose and let De'an help him change into his court robes. As his belt was being fastened, the bronze buckle clicked, and he glanced back again. The boy on the bed rolled over, gathered the quilt into his arms, and went on sleeping soundly.

When he returned from court, tea was already waiting in the West Warm Pavilion. Qi Xiao had not been seated long before Qi Yu leaned halfway through the doorway. His hair had been combed, and he had changed into neatly arranged clothes, but his eyes were still somewhat evasive. He edged over to the imperial desk and set a food box on it. Chun He had prepared the box; inside was a bowl of snow fungus and lotus seed sweet soup, with goji berries added, red interspersed with white. Qi Yu pushed the box toward his father and told him to have a bowl of sweet soup. As he spoke, his eyes strayed toward the bare persimmon tree outside the window, and his finger traced circles back and forth along the edge of the imperial desk.

Qi Xiao opened the food box, picked up the spoon, and took a spoonful. Qi Yu stood beside him, watching his father finish the soup. His lips moved as though he wanted to say something, then pressed together again. Before waking that morning, he had had a very, very long dream. In it, he was still a very small child, sitting on his father's lap with a paper rabbit lantern in his hand. Then a wind had suddenly risen in the dream, and the rabbit lantern had gone out. He turned to look for his father, only to discover that the palace behind him had become a vast, empty plain. He stood alone in the middle of it, still clutching the extinguished rabbit lantern, and suddenly felt that the wind was very cold. He did not tell anyone about this dream; he simply remained silent for a long while afterward. There were some things he had not yet learned how to ask, and some answers he had not yet grown old enough to understand.