Acting spoiled

Early the next morning, when breakfast was served in Yuning Hall, Qi Yu was sitting on the bed, his arms hanging at his sides, limp as two strands of noodles. Chun He knelt beside the bed with a bowl of congee, feeding him one spoonful at a time. Qi Yu obediently opened his mouth, but his eyes kept straying toward the table.

"What's that?" He tipped his chin toward the table.

Five or six small dishes sat on the table, with a white porcelain bowl of almond cream in the middle. A Ping went over and brought the bowl to him. Qi Yu lowered his head to look. The almond cream was white and delicate, scattered with a few goji berries, and smelled of almonds. A Ping stirred it, then brought a spoonful to his lips. Qi Yu opened his mouth and ate it. He held it in his mouth for a while, then suddenly said, "They only put in half the sugar."

Chun He's hand paused around the congee bowl. "How did you know, Your Highness?"

"I eat this stuff every day. How could I not know?" Qi Yu swallowed the almond cream and stuck out his tongue to lick the corner of his mouth. "What the Imperial Kitchen sent yesterday was still as sweet as usual. Today they've changed it. Who told them to?"

A Ping and Chun He exchanged a glance, neither speaking. Qi Yu did not need an answer. He tucked his chin a little farther into the quilt, the corners of his mouth lifting. The Imperial Kitchen would never change a recipe on its own initiative. Those cooks dreaded being blamed for changing the taste unless someone had ordered it. There was only one person in the palace who could tell the Imperial Kitchen to change the sugar in a prince's dessert. That person had learned last night that he could not lift his arms, yet had sent no message and no one to scold him, merely given an order to halve the sugar in the almond cream. Qi Yu slowly swallowed the mouthful of almond cream, feeling a lingering sweetness in his throat.

He finished half a bowl of almond cream and another half bowl of congee. Chun He fed him throughout. He did want to hold his own chopsticks, but his hand began shaking before he had lifted it halfway, and Chun He hurriedly pressed it back down. After breakfast, she applied another round of medicinal oil to his arms. The oil had been prepared by the Imperial Medical Bureau. It was brown, with a pungent smell of ginger. Chun He poured some into her palms and rubbed it warm, then gripped Qi Yu's forearm and worked upward bit by bit. When she reached the crook of his elbow, Qi Yu hissed. She eased her pressure and slowly kneaded it.

"Your Highness, are you still going to Xuanzheng Hall today?"

"Yes."

"But your arms..."

"My arms are sore, not my legs. I can walk."

Chun He did not try to dissuade him again. She rubbed the oil in evenly, wiped away the excess with a clean handkerchief, then lowered Qi Yu's sleeves and carefully fastened the ties at his cuffs. Qi Yu got off the bed, and A Ping crouched to help him put on his boots. Today he wore an everyday robe in duck-egg blue, its collar edged with white rabbit fur that set off his fair, clean face. His hair was still secured with that white jade hairpin, the little qilin on its head glittering in the morning light.

Getting from Yuning Hall to Xuanzheng Hall meant walking along two stretches of covered corridor and through a palace gate. Qi Yu walked more slowly than usual. It was not that his legs hurt, but that he could not swing his arms, and walking with both hands dangling at his sides looked a little awkward. He probably noticed it himself, for halfway there he suddenly began kicking little stones along the path with the tip of his shoe, pretending he was playing rather than unable to move his arms. A Ping followed behind, watching a small stone roll a long way from a kick, bounce off a corner, then bounce back. His young master looked down at it, apparently found it uninteresting, and stopped kicking.

As they neared Xuanzheng Hall, Qi Yu did not head toward the West Warm Pavilion. He went around the main hall and entered the inner hall from behind. This was where the emperor took his midday rest, and few people usually came here. The two young eunuchs guarding outside were about to salute when they saw Qi Yu, but A Ping stopped them with a look. Qi Yu pushed open the door and stepped softly inside. It was not large. A red sandalwood bed stood within, laid with a bright yellow mattress. By the window was a low table with a game of go laid out on it. Sunlight filtered through the window paper onto the board, lending both the black and white stones a sheen.

Qi Yu did not approach the bed. He stood beside the low table for a while, then walked to the window and looked outside. Beyond it was Xuanzheng Hall's rear corridor, planted with a row of bamboo whose leaves rustled in the wind. He had stood there for about the time it took to drink a cup of tea when he heard footsteps from the front hall, steady footsteps falling one after another on the blue stone slabs. He turned and ran toward the door. Just as he reached it, the door opened from outside. Qi Xiao stood in the doorway, still in his court robes, the dragons embroidered in gold thread on his black dragon robe gleaming faintly in the sunlight. His brow shifted at the sight of Qi Yu standing inside.

Qi Yu buried his face against his imperial father's chest and said in a muffled voice, "I'm already like this, and you still say it serves me right." "You didn't know your bow was half a catty heavier? Didn't you try it before drawing it?"

"I did. It didn't feel heavy then."

"You were too busy being pleased with yourself."

Qi Yu had no answer. He really had been too busy being pleased with himself. The deer in the woods had been running so fast, Xie Ning had been shouting, "Left, left!" beside him, and Fatty had been squealing behind him like a pig being slaughtered. How could he spare a thought for whether his bow was heavy? He had drawn it over twenty times in one go, shot two rabbits and a pheasant, and even caught a live gray rabbit. At the time, he had felt like the god of war descended to earth. This morning, he had turned into a noodle man.

Qi Xiao squeezed his left arm again. This time Qi Yu did not cry out, only gave a muffled grunt. Qi Xiao worked his way down to his wrist, closed his hand around it, and rotated it.

"What did the imperial physician say?"

"He said I hadn't hurt the tendons or bones, just strained the muscles. It'll be fine after a couple of days' rest."

"Have you applied the medicinal oil?"

"Yes. Chun He puts it on twice a day. Afterward the whole hall smells of ginger. Even the rabbit sneezes."

Qi Xiao looked down at the face in his arms, still chattering away. Qi Yu's eyes were still bright, a trace of the tears he had squeezed out earlier clinging to his lashes. Qi Xiao reached out and wiped it away.

"Will you show off again next time?"

"I'll take a lighter bow next time."

"Next time, weigh yourself first and see how many catties and taels you amount to." "I know." Qi Yu buried his face back in his imperial father's embrace. "Father, did you have any almond cream today?"

"I don't eat sweets."

"I did. There was a bowl at breakfast, with only half the sugar." Qi Yu's voice came muffled through the fabric. "I knew you'd ordered it as soon as I tasted it."

De'an remembered an occasion when Qi Yu was three and had been playing in Xuanzheng Hall. He had left a greasy handprint on a memorial the emperor had finished annotating. The memorial was to be sent back to the Grand Secretariat, and the red-ink comments that had taken so long to write were smudged just like that. The emperor had glanced at the greasy handprint and told De'an to make a fresh copy. He had not spoken a single word of reprimand from beginning to end. Afterward, whenever Qi Yu came to Xuanzheng Hall, De'an would move the finished memorials a little higher. Not because the emperor had ordered it, but because he himself felt that one less complication was better than one more.

Qi Xiao lowered his head a little. Having run to the doorway, Qi Yu stopped again and looked back. "Father, I'm not going to the West Warm Pavilion today. My arms are sore, and I can't turn the pages. I'm going to see my rabbit." Then he stepped over the threshold and ran off.

A Ping was waiting outside. Seeing his young master emerge, he hurried after him. De'an turned slightly to let them pass, then looked inside again.

"De'an."

"Your servant is here."

"Have the Imperial Medical Bureau prepare two more batches of ointment and send them to Yuning Hall. One isn't enough."

"Your servant obeys."

Qi Xiao stood in the doorway for a moment, then raised a hand to straighten the collar Qi Yu had rubbed askew and turned toward the front hall. The hem of his court robe swept over the threshold, his steps as steady as when he had arrived. De'an followed behind. After a few steps, he heard the emperor's voice from ahead again. "What does that rabbit eat?" De'an nearly failed to keep up. "Your Majesty, A Ping said he feeds it carrots."

"Have the Imperial Kitchen send two over every day." "Yes."