Sleeping Together

In the West Warm Pavilion of Xuanzheng Hall, Qi Xiao set down his brush upon reaching the third memorial. It was still bright outside, with some time yet before lunch. De'an was adding incense to the burner. At the sound of the emperor setting down his brush, his hand paused. The sound was a little heavier than usual.

"The Fourth Prince hasn't come today."

De'an put the lid on the incense burner and turned around. "Your Majesty, the Fourth Prince had lessons this morning. Lessons in the Imperial Study last until the hour of the Snake." Qi Xiao murmured an acknowledgment and picked up his brush again. After writing two lines, he stopped once more. "He didn't come yesterday, either."

De'an said nothing. Of course he knew the Fourth Prince hadn't come yesterday. Nor the day before. He had come three days ago, wandered around the warm pavilion, leafed through the books on the shelf, said, "Father, my arm's better," and left. After leaving, he hadn't returned. These past few days, the Fourth Prince's visits to Xuanzheng Hall had fallen by more than half compared with last month. De'an had long since counted them in his head. He simply didn't say so.

Qi Xiao finished that memorial and turned to the next. This one concerned salt transport in Jiangnan and was very long, covering three full pages. As he read, his fingers tapped lightly twice against the edge of the imperial desk.

"Has anything happened in the Imperial Study these past few days?" De'an stepped half a pace forward. "Your Majesty means..."

"My fourth son."

De'an lowered his eyes. This was precisely what he had been waiting for. "Your Majesty, nothing much has happened in the Imperial Study. Only, during lessons the other day, the Fourth Prince exchanged a few words with the Second Highness."

Qi Xiao's fingers stilled. "What words?"

"I heard the Fourth Prince accidentally splashed ink on the Second Highness's sleeve. The Fourth Prince offered to compensate him, but the Second Highness didn't accept. Then the Second Highness made a few rather cool remarks. The Fourth Prince became a little unhappy."

"What did Qi Ming say?"

"A Ping didn't hear all the exact words. The gist was that the Fourth Prince was fortunate, needing only to stretch out his arms to be dressed and open his mouth to be fed. He also said the Grand Tutor didn't punish the Fourth Prince even when he answered incorrectly, because he was his father's darling."

Qi Xiao fell silent. He looked at the memorial before him, his gaze resting on the paper, yet he seemed not to be reading it. After a long while, he lifted his teacup and took a sip. De'an hurried forward to replace it, but Qi Xiao waved him off and swallowed the cold tea.

"I know Qi Ming's temperament. He has been small-minded since childhood, with a sharp tongue to match. His mother, Consort Jing, has the same disposition."

Qi Xiao set his cup on the desk and leaned back in his chair. He remembered Qi Ming as a child. It had been the winter his second son had just turned six, when Consort Jing brought him to Xuanzheng Hall to pay his respects. He had already learned his manners very well. When he knelt and bowed, his little face was held taut, like a grown man's. Qi Xiao told him to rise, and he stood far away from the imperial desk. When Qi Xiao beckoned him over, he took a step forward, then stopped and looked up at Consort Jing. Only after she gave him a push did he slowly edge up to the desk. Qi Xiao wanted to hold him, but his whole body went rigid, and he didn't know where to put either hand. After that, Qi Xiao stopped holding him.

It wasn't that he didn't want to. The child had become afraid first. Qi Ming had learned his fear of him from Consort Jing. Consort Jing had learned hers from the harem. All the consorts in the harem feared him. When he sat upon this dragon throne, everyone had knelt. And once they knelt, no one ever stood again. Except one.

Qi Xiao rubbed between his brows. He knew he treated his fourth son differently. He had never seriously considered why. Perhaps it was because the year his fourth son was born had coincided with the rebellion at the Northern Border. He had personally led the campaign and fought away from home for half a year; by the time he returned, the infant in swaddling clothes could already smile. Perhaps it was because, after the empress was gone, that child had become the last person at his side who did not need to bow. Perhaps, during those years when his fourth son crawled all over Xuanzheng Hall, he had slowly worn down every hard edge in him.

A human heart could not hold a bowl of water perfectly level. He knew that. But he could not say it. He was the emperor, the imperial father of every prince and princess, not just one child's dad. At least on the surface, he had to keep that bowl level.

"About the Second Highness..." De'an began tentatively.

"There is no need to punish him." Qi Xiao's voice regained its usual steadiness. "His tongue is sharp, but his heart isn't all that bad. Just have him keep away from my fourth son from now on."

"Understood, Your Majesty."

Qi Xiao picked up the Vermilion Brush again and wrote a line on the salt transport memorial. His handwriting was perfectly neat. When he finished that one, he opened the next. The sunlight outside was lovely, spilling through the window lattice onto the imperial desk and lending the Duan Inkstone a bluish gleam.

A burst of light footsteps suddenly came from the doorway. In all of Xuanzheng Hall, only one person dared walk like that. Qi Xiao did not even raise his head, but the line of his mouth softened slightly.

Qi Yu pushed open the door and poked half his head through the gap. Today, he wore a sky-blue robe with a fluffy collar that set off his fair, clean face. His pout stuck out far enough to hang an oil bottle from it.

"Father."

Qi Xiao looked up at him. "Come in."

Qi Yu entered, but instead of going straight to the imperial desk as usual, he stood by the door for a while, then slowly made his way to the couch at the side and sat down. He did not read after sitting down, either. He merely sat there, his hands resting on his knees, his head lowered as he studied his fingers.

Qi Xiao wrote two lines, then put down his brush. "Who upset you?"

"No one."

"That pout could hold an oil bottle, and you still say no one?"

Qi Yu pouted even harder. "There's no bottle."

Qi Xiao leaned back in his chair and watched him. After a while, he beckoned. Qi Yu climbed down from the couch and dawdled over to the imperial desk. Qi Xiao reached out, caught his chin, and lifted his face. The words "I'm not happy" were written all over it. His eyes were lowered, his lashes casting a small patch of shadow over his lids.

"Who upset you?" Qi Xiao asked again.

"There's no point telling you." Qi Yu pulled his face out of his hand and turned it aside. "You won't do anything anyway, Father."

"I haven't even heard it yet. How do you know I won't?"

Qi Yu glanced at him. There was grievance in that look, and a probing uncertainty, along with a tiny trace of deeply concealed slyness. Qi Xiao knew that look very well. The child had been like this since he was little. Whenever he wanted something from him, he never asked outright. Instead, he first put on an expression of having suffered the greatest injustice under heaven and waited for him to ask. Even then, he would not say it directly, but circled around and around before finally arriving at what he wanted. He had used this same trick from the age of three until now, from candied hawthorns to a token permitting him to leave the palace. It was the same every time.

But Qi Xiao asked every time. "Who did you quarrel with in the Imperial Study?" Qi Xiao simply said it for him. Qi Yu froze for a moment. How did Father know? "I am the emperor. What happens in this palace that I don't know about?"

"Then why ask me if you already know?" Qi Yu's voice rose a little. He had never been afraid to speak loudly before Qi Xiao. "Second Brother says such infuriating things. What does he mean, I only stretch out my arms to be dressed and open my mouth to be fed? My arm was so sore that day I couldn't lift it, and he said I was fortunate. I hurt my arm hunting. It wasn't because I was lazy. What right did he have to say that? And he said the Grand Tutor didn't punish me because you favor me. The Grand Tutor didn't punish me because my answer was right. When he answered wrong, the Grand Tutor didn't punish him either, so why single me out?"

He said it all in one breath, without a single pause. By the time he finished, his face was red, and he stood there huffing and puffing. Looking at him with all his fur bristling, Qi Xiao recalled what De'an had just said. His second son's words had indeed been unpleasant. But that was all they were. He knew Qi Ming: a sensitive child with a cutting tongue, but not necessarily much real malice in his heart. His mother's life in the palace was not particularly easy. Having grown up absorbing everything around him, he had long since accumulated a bellyful of resentment over the favor his fourth brother enjoyed. Qi Xiao could understand that resentment. But understanding was one thing. Looking at the bristling little cub before him, the scales in his heart still tipped to one side.

"Finished?" Qi Xiao asked.

"Finished." Qi Yu was still panting, his chest rising and falling. "Some of what your second brother said was spoken in anger. You needn't take it all to heart." Qi Yu's eyes widened. "That's it?"

"You are my son. He is my son too. His tongue is a little sharp, but I cannot punish him for that. Put yourself in his place. If you were him, would you feel good about it?"

Qi Yu opened his mouth, then closed it again. He lowered his head and stared at the toes of his shoes for a while. He knew his father had a point. He had his father's favor, his Crown Prince brother's protection, and the empress's affection. He had everything. His second brother had nothing. Consort Jing was not particularly favored in the palace, and his father had always been strict with his second brother. In all his years growing up, his second brother had probably never had anyone treat him the way Father treated him. He understood that in his heart. But understanding was one thing; thinking about it still made him angry.

"Then love me a little more." Qi Yu lifted his head, his voice much quieter than before and carrying a slight nasal note. "He bullied me, and you won't even help me. Then love me a little more to make it up to me."

Qi Xiao was provoked into laughter by this logic. He really did laugh, a breath escaping through his nose. "Don't I love you enough already?" "No." Qi Yu had already edged up beside him, clutching his arm in both hands and shaking it. "Father, I haven't seen you for days. I've missed you so much. Can I sleep with you tonight?"

"Second Brother and Third Brother aren't me," Qi Yu declared with conviction. He bent down, brought his face before Qi Xiao's, and blinked. His lashes fluttered like two little fans. "Besides, I haven't slept with you in ages. Not since last winter. It's been more than half a year. Father, Daddy, just let me sleep with you for one night. Just one. I promise not to steal the covers. I promise not to kick you. I'll be quiet, just like when I was little."

Qi Xiao looked at that face so close to his, at those sparkling eyes. Ever since he was little, this child had worn the same expression whenever he begged him for something: eyes opened round, lips slightly pouted, chin raised. He knew he was softhearted. From childhood, he had known exactly how to soften his heart.

De'an stood to one side grinding ink, hearing every word Qi Yu said. His head was lowered, his hand moving at an unhurried pace. What other prince would dare behave like this before his father? Never mind wheedling for affection; even to say one extra word, they had to weigh it over several times in their hearts first. He recalled a time when the Second Highness had come to Xuanzheng Hall to report on a matter. After finishing his business, he had stood at the doorway for a long while, his lips moving again and again as though he had something to say. De'an had been right there watching. He waited and waited, but in the end, the Second Highness said nothing, bowed, and left. He did not know what the Second Highness had wanted to say. Perhaps, "Father, are you tired today?" Perhaps, "Your son takes his leave." Perhaps he had wanted to ask something else.

Yet here in the warm pavilion, the Fourth Prince was tugging at the emperor's sleeve. Qi Xiao could no longer review memorials with him making such a fuss. He set down the Vermilion Brush and reached out to hold that restless head still. "Stop fussing."

"Then you agree?"

"You don't sleep quietly."

"I've grown a lot taller these past six months. My legs are longer now. With longer legs, I won't kick off the covers."

"What do long legs have to do with it?"

"With longer legs, I can't reach the covers to kick them," Qi Yu said with perfect seriousness.

Qi Xiao was silent for a moment. "Who taught you that?"

"I thought of it myself."

Qi Xiao looked at him. His face was tilted up, his eyes sparkling, his lashes still fluttering. Qi Xiao reached out and gently pinched his cheek, then withdrew his hand and picked up the Vermilion Brush.

"Just one night."

Qi Yu sprang up. "You agreed, Father?"

"Keep fussing, and you can forget it."

Qi Yu immediately shut his mouth. Pressing his lips tightly together, he took two steps back and plopped onto the couch. But his eyes betrayed him. They curved into two crescents, holding the gleam of a little fox that had stolen a chicken. He picked up a travelogue from the shelf and opened it to where he had last stopped, pretending to read, yet unable to suppress the corners of his mouth.

Qi Xiao glanced at him and continued reviewing memorials.

De'an finished grinding the ink and carried the teapot out to replace the tea. After leaving the West Warm Pavilion, he stood beneath the covered walkway for a moment. The evening wind was stronger than before, making the hem of his robe flap sharply. He remembered that His Majesty would be keeping the Fourth Prince overnight in Xuanzheng Hall tonight; he would need to have someone add another layer of padding to the dragon bed in advance. The Fourth Prince was a restless sleeper, so there should be two pillows. And for breakfast tomorrow, they would need an extra serving of the Almond Cream the Fourth Prince loved.

He turned toward the tea room. As he passed along the covered corridor, he suddenly remembered something. Last winter, on the Fourth Prince's last overnight stay in Xuanzheng Hall, he had somehow rolled all the way to the innermost side of the dragon bed in the middle of the night, curled into a ball, and wound the entire brocade quilt around himself. The emperor had woken in the night to find no quilt covering him and turned his head to look at the culprit beside him, wrapped up like a silkworm chrysalis. Then the emperor had neither woken him nor ordered anyone to bring another quilt. He had simply lain there fully dressed for much of the night. At court the following morning, the emperor's voice had been deeper than usual.