A cold (memories)

Winter, the nineteenth year of Jianxi.

Xiao Huaijin was fifteen.

After two years away from the capital, he had shot up in height. When he climbed out of the carriage, the old attendants waiting outside the Eastern Palace almost failed to recognize him. His wet nurse stood at the front, looking him up and down several times before her eyes reddened and she bowed her head. "Your Highness." Xiao Huaijin answered with a smile. His voice had changed, no longer the clear boyish voice of two years ago. It was lower, deeper, like a sword not yet sharpened, its edge held in reserve.

Two years earlier, he had gone south to Huainan, ostensibly to inspect the river embankment works on the emperor's behalf. In truth, the whole court knew it was "seasoning"-a respectable way of saying they were sending him out of the capital to see just how much this crown prince was worth. The result surprised everyone. Huainan's three-year embankment project was completed a year and a half ahead of schedule and stood firm through winter and summer. It cost thirty percent less than the Ministry of Revenue had originally allocated. The Censorate sent three successive teams to audit the accounts and found nothing. One censor in the last team to return wrote this in his memorial: "The crown prince personally attended to every matter in supervising the works. On the day the embankments were completed, the people of Huainan burned incense and knelt to see him off, crying, 'May the crown prince live a thousand years.'"

Those words were written in the memorial and delivered to Xiao Lin's desk. That day, Xiao Lin wrote three words in response.

"I have noted."

His tone was flat, revealing nothing. But from that day onward, he kept the plans for the Huainan embankments locked in the bottom drawer of his imperial desk, together with everything else that "required no further discussion."

Xiao Huaijin returned to the capital on the ninth day of the twelfth lunar month. By protocol, he should first have gone to the Hall of Mental Cultivation to pay his respects to the emperor. He changed into his court robes, tucked the final memorial on the Huainan project into his sleeve, and stood outside the Hall of Mental Cultivation for an hour. The snow fell heavily, leaving a thin white layer on his shoulders and the crown of his head.

Liu An came out of the hall, bowing. "Your Highness, His Majesty says he will not receive you today. Please return to the Eastern Palace and rest. The matter can wait until tomorrow's morning court."

Snowflakes clung to Xiao Huaijin's lashes. He blinked, then lowered his head to look at the memorial in his sleeve-he had spent three full nights writing it, revising it seven times, weighing every word. He drew it out and offered it to Liu An with both hands. "Then sorry for the trouble, Eunuch Liu. Please present it to Father."

Liu An accepted it with both hands and withdrew, still bent at the waist.

Inside the hall, the charcoal fire burned brightly. Xiao Lin sat behind his desk with a military dispatch newly arrived from the northern frontier spread before him. Liu An placed the memorial on a corner of the desk and carefully stepped back. Xiao Lin did not look at it, merely continuing to annotate the dispatch in his hands. Halfway through, his brush suddenly stopped.

"He has grown thin."

Liu An froze for a moment, then understood-His Majesty must have looked through the gap in the window just now. He answered cautiously, "His Highness stood outside for an hour. I fear he may have caught a chill. Shall this servant send some warming medicine to the Eastern Palace?"

Xiao Lin did not answer. He continued annotating memorials. Liu An waited a moment, understood that this was tacit permission, and silently withdrew.

At morning court the next day, Xiao Huaijin stood at the head of the eastern ranks. Two years ago, when he stood here, the ministers had seen his title: "crown prince." Now they saw the person himself-a crown prince who had spent two years in Huainan and achieved tangible results in governance. No one treated him as an ornament beside the dragon throne anymore. His position had not changed, but the looks directed at him had.

No one knew whether Xiao Lin had noticed any of this. He sat on the dragon throne as always, his face as expressionless as ever. But when the court discussed Huainan's subsequent administration, he suddenly spoke.

"Crown prince."

The entire hall fell silent.

Xiao Huaijin stepped forward. "Your son is here."

"What is to follow in Huainan?"

This was probably the first time in all these years that Xiao Lin had publicly asked the crown prince's opinion at court. Xiao Huaijin answered calmly-the completed embankments would require roughly twenty thousand taels a year in maintenance. He proposed earmarking a portion of Huainan's salt tax for that purpose, without affecting the court's regular revenues and expenditures.

After listening, Xiao Lin glanced at Xiao Huaijin, then looked away.

"Approved."

The same answer as several years ago. But this time, Xiao Huaijin's legs did not weaken. He merely bowed his head and returned to his place.

After court, several senior ministers surrounded him outside the Hall of Supreme Harmony. The minister of revenue praised his salt-tax proposal. The minister of works asked when His Highness might have time to inspect the northern border walls. Even the minister of war, who seldom paid the crown prince any attention, clasped his hands in an unprecedented gesture and said His Highness's efficiency in supervising the Huainan works was admirable. Xiao Huaijin answered each in turn, smiling when he should and showing modesty when it was called for. He had learned many things in Huainan, the most important of which was how to deal with court officials.

Then he saw Noble Consort Shen Mingzhu approaching from the far end of the passage.

Xiao Yu walked beside her. Thirteen now, he had sword-like brows and star-bright eyes, wore a sapphire-blue brocade robe, and looked exceedingly gentle when he smiled. Upon seeing Xiao Huaijin, he bowed properly and called him "Crown Prince Brother," his voice sweet as candied fruit.

"You worked hard in Huainan, Crown Prince Brother. I heard the summers there are terribly hot, with so many mosquitoes and insects. You must have suffered quite a bit."

Xiao Huaijin smiled too. "It was all right. Thank you for your concern, Second Brother."

They passed each other. Shen Mingzhu never once looked him in the eye. Only as she passed did she say, in a voice only the two of them could hear, "Now that Your Highness has returned to the capital, the plays in this palace will probably grow even livelier."

Xiao Huaijin did not turn back. But her laughter crawled past his feet like a snake, clammy and cold.

Late in the twelfth lunar month, the snow in the capital grew heavier and heavier.

Xiao Lin fell ill.

It was nothing serious, a cold that had entered his lungs. The imperial physician said a few days of quiet rest would suffice. But this was Xiao Lin. In nineteen years on the throne, he had never missed morning court because of a cold. This time, he did. When the news spread, the entire court erupted. Now that he had taken to his bed, everyone was waiting, waiting for him to rise again, or waiting for him to pass on the throne. No one dared say it aloud. But silence itself was a kind of voice.

Memorials from ministers inquiring after his health piled up on the desk in the Hall of Mental Cultivation, and the masters of the various palaces took turns visiting him. The noble consort went three times with Xiao Yu, and the other princes all went as well. Only the Eastern Palace remained quiet.

Xiao Huaijin wanted to go too, in fact. He went every day. The first day, Liu An stopped him at the hall doors, saying His Majesty had given verbal orders to receive no one while recuperating. He went again the second day, and Liu An said the same thing. On the third day, he stood outside and refused to leave, saying he would wait there. Sweat broke out on Liu An's forehead in his agitation. Finally, he leaned closer and lowered his voice to tell the truth. "Your Highness, it is not that His Majesty refuses to see you-His Majesty said he was afraid of passing his illness to you."

Xiao Huaijin stood where he was, his expression impossible to describe. He gazed at the tightly closed doors of the Hall of Mental Cultivation for a long time, then turned and left. But he came again that evening, bringing a bowl of ginger soup he had made himself and setting it on the steps outside the hall. He did not ask Liu An to announce him. He put it down and left.

When Liu An carried the bowl of ginger soup inside, Xiao Lin was leaning against his couch, annotating memorials. The cold had not laid him low. It had merely made him thinner, his cheekbones more prominent, his face paler. His eyes lay in shadow, looking deeper and colder than usual.

"Your Majesty, this was sent by His Highness the crown prince. He made it himself."

Xiao Lin glanced at the bowl of ginger soup.

"Put it down."

Liu An set the bowl beside the desk. Xiao Lin continued annotating memorials. After finishing the one in his hands, he picked up the next. The bowl of ginger soup sat there, its steam dissipating wisp by wisp, and he never touched it. Liu An attended him at his side, not daring to say another word. He had served this man for far too many years. He understood: leaving it untouched was not a matter of not wanting it, but of not being used to it. Not used to someone being good to him, not used to the feeling of being held in someone's heart.

The next morning, the bowl of thoroughly cold ginger soup was gone. While tidying the desk, Liu An discovered that the bowl had been washed and placed upside down on the tea tray, perfectly clean. He looked at His Majesty, who sat by the window watching the snow, his face utterly expressionless. Liu An lowered his head and pretended he had seen nothing.

On New Year's Eve, a family banquet was held in the palace according to ancestral custom.

More than a dozen tables were set in the Hall of Supreme Harmony, and the masters of the various palaces took their seats according to rank. Xiao Lin sat in the center, still saying little, only occasionally raising his cup, whereupon everyone else raised theirs. Xiao Huaijin sat at the first table on the eastern side, an entire aisle separating him from Xiao Lin.

During the banquet, Shen Mingzhu raised her cup to Xiao Lin. "Your Majesty, Yu'er has made great progress in his studies lately. Even the grand tutor says his policy essays are excellent." Xiao Lin nodded slightly. Xiao Yu rose with his wine cup and respectfully offered Xiao Lin a toast, speaking a few auspicious words before toasting each of his imperial brothers in turn. When it came to putting on a show, he performed far more gracefully than Xiao Huaijin. Xiao Huaijin offered a toast as well, but his words were brief. "Your son offers you a toast, Father." Xiao Lin raised his cup and drank. No praise, no comment, just as always.

As Xiao Huaijin sat down, he felt several gazes fall on him. Some were sympathetic, others took pleasure in his misfortune. He was used to it. He lowered his head to eat and did not look up again.

After the family banquet ended, everyone returned to their own palaces to keep the New Year's vigil. Xiao Huaijin did not return directly to the Eastern Palace. He stood for a while in the passage behind the Hall of Supreme Harmony. The night wind was cold. He wrapped his cloak tightly around himself and looked up at the stars. The palace walls were so high that they cut the sky into a square, with a scattering of stars hanging inside it, as though imprisoned.

Liu An caught up with him from behind. "Your Highness, His Majesty asks you to come to the Hall of Mental Cultivation."

Xiao Huaijin froze. In fifteen years, this was the first time Xiao Lin had summoned him alone to the Hall of Mental Cultivation on New Year's Eve.

Only one lamp was lit in the Hall of Mental Cultivation. Xiao Lin sat beside the couch in dark informal robes, holding a book, but a quarter of an hour had passed without him turning the page. Xiao Huaijin knelt a few steps away, waiting for him to speak. He waited a long time.

"Rise."

Xiao Huaijin stood.

"Come closer."

He took another two steps forward, close enough to see the white hairs at his father's temples. He was fifteen and had grown almost as tall as his father, only a little shorter. Standing at this distance, he noticed for the first time the fine lines beneath his father's eyes and the few white hairs at his temples.

Xiao Lin looked at him. At fifteen, Xiao Huaijin had his mother's brows and eyes, but his bone structure increasingly resembled his own.

"Tomorrow is New Year's Day. After the grand court assembly, I will go to the Temple of Heaven to offer sacrifices to Heaven. You will accompany me."

Xiao Huaijin's breath caught. Offering sacrifices to Heaven-this was an honor not necessarily granted even at a crown prince's coming-of-age ceremony. He suppressed the emotions surging within him, lowered his head, and clasped his hands. "Your son obeys."

Xiao Lin said nothing more. He put down the book, rose, and walked to the window with his back to Xiao Huaijin. He remained silent for so long that Xiao Huaijin thought he had forgotten he was still in the hall.

"Go and rest."

Xiao Huaijin answered, retreated two steps, then stopped again.

"Father," he said very softly, "the ginger soup-" He paused. "Your son will make another bowl and bring it tomorrow."

Xiao Lin did not turn around. The snow on the window lattice reflected the moonlight, washing half his face white.

"...Mm."

When Xiao Huaijin withdrew, his steps were so light that he nearly tripped over the threshold. He stood in the snow outside the Hall of Mental Cultivation and lifted his face, letting snowflakes fall on his forehead. He was fifteen. Over these years, he had learned many things: to read memorials, calculate silver, and build embankments. But there had only ever been one thing he wanted most-now he felt he had finally reached its edge.

That night, the lights in the Eastern Palace burned until morning. Xiao Huaijin sat at his desk writing out the essential ritual protocols for the next day's sacrifice to Heaven, sneezing as he wrote-the cold he had caught in Huainan had not fully cleared, and he had been running to the Hall of Mental Cultivation every day, taking one dose of the imperial physician's medicine and forgetting the next. But he did not care. He rubbed his nose and continued writing.

Someone cared about what he did not.

Liu An came to the Eastern Palace the next morning to deliver an edict-he would no longer accompany the emperor to the sacrifice. Xiao Huaijin had already dressed in his court robes and was tucking his copy of the essential ritual protocols into his sleeve. At the edict, his hand stopped in midair.

"Eunuch Liu, why has Father suddenly-" He did not finish.

Liu An bowed, his face full of discomfort. "His Majesty said that last night, Your Highness... your cold may not have cleared. The winds at the Temple of Heaven are strong. He asks that you recuperate in the Eastern Palace. You need not accompany him."

Xiao Huaijin pulled the copy out of his sleeve and set it on the table.

"I thank Father for his consideration." His voice was very low.

After Liu An left, he sat alone at the table for a long time. The copy of the essential ritual protocols lay open on the table, densely covered in his handwriting. He looked at it once, then closed it. Very gently, without making a sound.

Between seven and nine that morning, the sacrifice to Heaven was held at the Temple of Heaven. When Xiao Lin ascended the altar, the person following him was the second prince, Xiao Yu. No one knew why the crown prince had not come. The ministers kept their heads lowered, not daring to ask or look.

The noble consort stood at the head of the titled women, a dignified, appropriate smile on her face. The wind lifted her cloak. She turned her face slightly to glance at Xiao Yu's bearing as he stood behind the emperor, and the curve of her lips deepened as she turned away.

The bells for the sacrifice to Heaven rang out across the entire Forbidden City.

They were heard in the Eastern Palace too.

Xiao Huaijin sat at his desk with a book open before him. He listened for a long time, then lowered his head and continued reading that page. It was the same page he had been reading when he returned from Huainan fifteen days earlier. He had not turned a single page.

That night, he went to the Hall of Mental Cultivation again.

This time, he brought no ginger soup. He simply stood outside the hall, looking at the tightly closed doors and the faint light seeping through the window paper. Liu An kept watch from a distance and did not approach.

Xiao Huaijin stood for a long time, then turned and left.