Baolin

Dinner was laid out in the West Warm Pavilion of Xuanzheng Hall. When Qi Yu arrived, he noticed an extra bowl and pair of chopsticks on the table, set opposite his usual seat. A celadon bowl, ivory chopsticks, and a chopstick rest shaped like a pair of little silver fish. They were not his father's. His father's place setting was on the small table beside the imperial desk, where De'an had specially put it. This set was for a guest. Qi Yu stood beside the table looking at it for a breath before De'an said softly, "Your Highness, Jiang Baolin is coming to dinner tonight. Her Majesty the Empress arranged it."

Qi Yu murmured an acknowledgment. He sat in his place, picked up his chopsticks, then put them down, moved his bowl half an inch to one side, then moved it back. When Jiang Baolin entered, Qi Yu was drinking the white fungus soup in front of him. Hearing the soft chime of jade ornaments, he looked up. She was a young woman in a pomegranate-red palace gown with trailing lotus vines embroidered at the cuffs, her hair piled high with a kingfisher-feather hairpin beside her temple. Upon entering, she first paid her respects to Qi Xiao, then turned and dipped into a slight curtsy to Qi Yu. "My respects, Fourth Prince."

Qi Yu stood and returned the greeting with impeccable form, so impeccable it hardly seemed like him. Jiang Baolin sat down opposite him. Qi Yu lowered his head and continued drinking his soup. There were red dates in it. He bit down on a pit, spat it onto his plate, and wiped the corner of his mouth with a handkerchief.

Qi Xiao had not yet touched his chopsticks. Leaning back in his chair, he asked Jiang Baolin to play a piece. The instrument she had brought was a banana-leaf-style Zhongni qin, its lacquered surface gleaming softly. She sat before the qin table and adjusted the strings, then lowered her fingertips to play "Wild Geese Descending on the Flat Sand." The piece was well chosen, neither long nor loud, and her fingering was clean. Qi Xiao listened with his eyes closed, tapping his fingers lightly against the table twice. Even De'an stopped grinding ink beside him, afraid the friction of the inkstick would disturb the music. When the piece ended, Qi Xiao opened his eyes and said it was good. Jiang Baolin rose to thank him for his praise, then came over and sat down opposite Qi Yu.

All the dishes had been served. The soup had come from Yuning Hall's small kitchen that afternoon, specially simmered by Chun He, who said His Highness needed more soup now that he had recovered. Qi Yu put a piece of pork rib in his bowl and poked it with his chopsticks without eating it.

"Why aren't you eating, Fourth Prince? You've only just recovered. You need to build up your strength." Jiang Baolin picked up the serving chopsticks and placed a piece of sweet-and-sour pork tenderloin in Qi Yu's bowl. Her movements were natural, her tone gentle, like a dutiful consort showing concern for the emperor's most beloved son. Qi Yu looked down at the piece of tenderloin, thanked her, then picked it up and took a bite.

Jiang Baolin turned back to Qi Xiao and spoke about some newly rehearsed pieces in the palace, then mentioned that the chrysanthemums were blooming beautifully and that His Majesty could take a walk in the Imperial Garden if he had time. Qi Xiao listened, nodding now and then. Her speaking voice was very pleasant.

Qi Yu ate another piece of rib and spat the bone onto his plate. He rested his chopsticks across his bowl, lifted his teacup for a sip, then set it down again. Jiang Baolin rose and went around behind Qi Xiao, saying that His Majesty's shoulders and neck must be stiff from his labors over affairs of state, and that she had learned some techniques to ease the muscles and improve circulation, which she ventured to ask His Majesty to try. Qi Xiao paused, then nodded slightly. Jiang Baolin rested her hands on his shoulders, her ten slender fingers slowly kneading through his dragon robe. She began at the shoulder-well pressure points, pressing her thumbs against them with neither too much nor too little force.

Qi Xiao leaned back in his chair, the vertical crease between his brows slowly relaxing. His eyes were closed, his breathing somewhat deeper than before. Watching beside him, De'an thought that Jiang Baolin really had practiced these techniques. His Majesty's shoulders had grown stiff from reviewing memorials these past few days. An imperial physician had come to massage them once, and the prescribed ointment had not yet been used up. Jiang Baolin's skill was timely indeed.

Qi Yu picked up the piece of rib in his bowl, now cold, and took a bite. The meat was a little dry. He chewed a few times and swallowed, wiped his mouth with his handkerchief, and stood. "Father, I've had enough. I won't disturb you while you listen to music." Qi Xiao opened his eyes. "You've only eaten half a bowl of rice."

"I ate too much at lunch." Qi Yu had already stepped back twice. He bowed, turned, pushed open the door, and left.

Qi Xiao watched the doorway. The door had already closed. Jiang Baolin's fingers were still massaging his shoulders, and he raised a hand to signal her to stop. She withdrew her hands and returned to the table, the gentle smile still on her face. Qi Xiao picked up a piece of fish and put it in his mouth, chewed twice, then set down his chopsticks. De'an brought over the soup, but he took only one sip before putting the bowl down.

Qi Yu walked along the palace path back to Yuning Hall. A Ping followed with a lantern. The palace path was quiet on the autumn night, with only the sound of boot soles on the flagstones. The lantern light swayed across the ground, stretching and shortening their shadows. Qi Yu walked so fast that A Ping had to jog to keep up. Halfway back, he suddenly stopped and looked up at the sky. There were hardly any stars, only a crescent moon hanging there. He watched it for a while, then continued on.

Back at Yuning Hall, Qi Yu sat on the edge of the bed without speaking. Chun He brought in hot water to help him wash, but he waved her away and said to wait. He kicked off his boots himself, leaving them crooked on the floor, one sole-up and the other on its side. Drawing his feet up, he sat cross-legged on the bed, rested his chin on his knees, and stared blankly at his toes.

A Ping crouched to pick up the boots and put them neatly away, then went outside and drew Chun He into the corridor. Lowering his voice, he told her that a Jiang Baolin had been at Xuanzheng Hall that evening, playing the qin and dining with His Majesty, and that His Highness had come back after barely eating anything. Chun He glanced through the crack in the door. Her prince was still sitting cross-legged on the bed, hugging his knees with his chin resting on them, staring blankly ahead. In front of him was the bronze mirror, reflecting his own face. It looked glum, his brows drawn into a small knot and the corners of his mouth turned down. Chun He drew A Ping farther away and asked in a hushed voice who Jiang Baolin was. A Ping said she was a newly arrived junior consort, reportedly an accomplished qin player. Her Majesty the Empress had arranged it. Chun He fell silent for a moment, then said, "No wonder."

Over by the tea room, A Rong came along the corridor carrying a kettle of hot water. She wore a pale green sleeveless jacket, her hair neatly dressed, her gaze lowered in a docile manner. Reaching the bedchamber door, she called softly inside, "Your Highness, the hot water is ready. Shall I help you wash?"

Qi Yu murmured assent from inside. Chun He glanced at A Rong and was about to say she would do it, but A Rong had already pushed open the door with the bronze basin in her hands. Standing in the doorway, Chun He watched her briskly set the basin on its stand, her movements practiced as she wrung out the cloth. She mentally reviewed everything A Rong had done over her few days at Yuning Hall. She was diligent about serving tea and water, never shirked, and spoke little. Yet Chun He kept feeling that something was not quite right. She could not say what it was, only that this woman was too quiet.

Inside the bedchamber, A Rong wrung out the cloth and handed it over. Qi Yu took it and wiped his face, then his neck. A Rong crouched to undo his sash. It was tied tightly, and she needed two attempts to loosen it. Qi Yu watched her working with his head lowered, then suddenly asked, "Are you new?"

A Rong looked up and gave him a meek smile. "Yes. This servant is A Rong. The Imperial Household Department assigned me here a few days ago. Sister Chun He told me to help in the tea room for now." With that, she lowered her head again and continued undoing the ties of his inner robe.

Qi Yu murmured an acknowledgment and asked nothing more. He spread his arms to let A Rong remove his outer robe, then let her help him change into his nightclothes. They were made of plain silk, with the ties at the neck fastened a little loosely. As A Rong crouched to remove his socks, her fingers brushed his ankle.

Steam filled the bathing room. The water in the tub was just right, neither hot nor cool, with a few pieces of dried mugwort floating on the surface. Qi Yu settled into the tub, the hot water rising over his chest, and rested his head against the rim with his eyes closed. In the past, A Ping had always attended him during his bath, with Chun He occasionally lending a hand. Today it was A Rong. She knelt beside the tub, pouring water over his shoulders and gently wiping his back with a cloth. When it passed over his shoulder blade, he shifted and told her to press harder. A Rong applied more pressure. Her touch was lighter than A Ping's, and lighter than Chun He's too, but it was reasonably comfortable.

After his bath, Qi Yu changed into clean nightclothes and lay on the bed. Chun He came in and lowered half the bed curtains. A Ping turned the lamp in the corner down as low as it would go and peered over before leaving. His prince lay on his side, his face buried in the cotton pillow, one hand clutching the corner of the quilt, his eyes still open. A Ping quietly closed the door.

A Rong came out of the bathing room after scooping out and disposing of the bathwater and wiping the floor clean. When she went to put the bucket in the tea room, Chun He was waiting there. Leaning against the doorframe with a cup of tea in her hand, Chun He looked her up and down. A Rong faltered under her gaze and greeted her as Sister Chun He. Chun He set down her tea and said, "Thank you for your work. Get some rest early," her tone neither warm nor cold. A Rong answered and withdrew with lowered eyes. Chun He stood in the tea room a while, picked up a rag to wipe the water stains from the edge of the stove, then put out the light.

Inside the bedchamber, Qi Yu was still awake. He rolled over and kicked the quilt aside, then rolled back and pulled it up to his chest. His mind was a jumble. One moment, Jiang Baolin's hands were massaging his father's shoulders; the next, he was a child sitting on his father's lap, tugging at his stubble. The two images kept circling in his head, driving away all sleepiness. He buried his face in the pillow for a while, then sat up and called toward the door for A Ping. A Ping pushed open the door and came in. Qi Yu sat cross-legged on the bed, his hair rubbed into a complete mess. "A Ping, let me ask you something."

"Please go ahead, Your Highness."

"Do you think Father would keep someone by his side if he liked her?"

A Ping opened his mouth, then said carefully, "Are you asking about... Jiang Baolin, Your Highness?"

Qi Yu did not deny it, merely lowered his head and picked at the subtle embroidered pattern on the quilt. "I'm only asking."

A Ping thought for a moment, silently repeating the words his godfather had taught him. See what you should see, and do not see what you should not. He went to the bedside and tucked in the quilt. "Your Highness, you know better than this servant whom His Majesty treats well. Other people are other people, and you are you. How could it be the same?" Qi Yu looked up at him. A Ping withdrew and stood outside the door for a long while. The room grew still, and the breathing slowly became even. Only then did he let out a breath of relief.