Midsummer (memories)

Summer, the twentieth year of Jianxi.

The dog days had arrived, and the capital was as hot as a steamer. The cicadas began calling in the fourth watch, and by noon their racket made people's temples throb. Basins of ice stood beneath the covered walkways of every palace, and palace servants took turns wielding fans, but it was still too stifling to breathe.

Xiao Huaijin had turned sixteen.

His illness had lingered on and off for three months, and only at the beginning of spring had he fully recovered. Afterward, he had shot up again and could already meet Xiao Lin's eyes at their level. The light wheat-colored tan he had acquired in Huainan had long since faded completely. His face was even paler than before he left the capital, his cheekbones more sharply defined, the line of his jaw grown clean and angular where it had once been rounded. When he smiled, his brows and eyes still resembled Empress Xiaoyi's. When he did not, his profile might almost have been cast from the same mold as the emperor's in his youth.

It was Zhou Rucheng who had said so. The old man had scarcely praised anyone in his life. That day, after finishing his lesson in the Eastern Palace, he closed his book and studied Xiao Huaijin for a moment before suddenly remarking, "Your Highness looks more and more like His Majesty in his youth."

Xiao Huaijin was putting away his brushes and ink. His hand paused.

"You think so too, Grand Tutor?"

Zhou Rucheng nodded, then added casually, "But His Majesty was not as fond of smiling as Your Highness when he was young. Back then, he was still in the Cold Palace-"

He abruptly stopped, lowered his head, and began arranging his book case without continuing. Xiao Huaijin waited a moment. When the Grand Tutor said nothing more, he did not press him. But he remembered those words all summer.

A few days later, he stood before his bronze mirror for a long time. His wet nurse came in with a chilled dessert and asked what he was looking at. He said it was nothing. But that night, he took the bronze mirror off its stand and set it face down toward the wall.

He could not quite explain why himself.

In mid-June, there was a stir in the Noble Consort's Palace of Nurtured Elegance.

Xiao Yu was fourteen that year and growing rapidly; he already reached Xiao Huaijin's ears. He had always excelled in his studies at the Imperial Academy, particularly in policy essays. Several elderly Hanlin scholars had taken turns praising his writing for its "breadth and grandeur." When word reached the court, some began to wonder: was the second prince's learning perhaps not much inferior to the crown prince's?

No one dared say it openly. But silence itself had cracks.

Shen Mingzhu was very clever. She never spoke up for her son herself, never urged His Majesty to grant Xiao Yu a princely title, and never compared the two princes in public. She merely ensured that, at every opportune moment, Xiao Yu happened to be seen-for example, on the day Xiao Lin inspected the Imperial Academy, Xiao Yu happened to take a lesson in place of an ailing Hanlin scholar, lecturing on a section of the Tang annals in the Comprehensive Mirror for Aid in Governance. When the lesson ended, Xiao Lin stood in the doorway for a while.

"A fine lecture."

That single sentence was enough to turn the winds at court. Xiao Yu's study companion was replaced with the Minister of Revenue's son, the Palace of Nurtured Elegance's allowance was increased to seventy percent of the Eastern Palace's, and the Noble Consort's seat at audiences with titled ladies was moved forward half an inch-none of these was a major matter, but together, they became a signal.

Xiao Huaijin noticed. He discussed it with no one, merely rewriting his regular policy essay on military farming along the frontier three times. Zhou Rucheng read the third draft and remained silent for a long time.

"Your Highness's policy essays are growing increasingly seasoned."

Xiao Huaijin did not reply. Outside the window, the cicadas screamed loud enough to shake the heavens. In the distance, a side hall of the Palace of Nurtured Elegance was being renovated, and the faint sound of sawing drifted over.

Something happened in July.

A military dispatch arrived from the northern frontier: the Tartars had invaded, and the border army had suffered a defeat.

Xiao Lin was drinking his medicine when the news reached the Hall of Mental Cultivation. He set down the medicine bowl and read the dispatch. He did not lose his temper, asking only, "Who is the commanding general?" The Minister of War gave the name-a veteran Xiao Lin had promoted early in his reign, who had guarded the northern frontier for nearly twenty years. After hearing it, Xiao Lin wrote a line of instructions: order him back to the capital to report on his duties, and appoint another commanding general to replace him.

The court argued over the replacement for three days. The Ministry of War recommended three men, each with connections, each backed by a different faction. At the end of the wrangling, Xiao Lin suddenly spoke.

"Crown Prince."

Xiao Huaijin stepped out from the head of the eastern rank. "Your son is here."

"What sort of man do you think should command the northern frontier?"

The courtiers fell silent. Xiao Huaijin lowered his head. The first candidate who came to mind was a general he had met while overseeing the works in Huainan-but that would not do. The man was a former subordinate from Huainan; recommending him would be tantamount to telling everyone that the crown prince already had his own men in the army. His second choice was one of the three men recommended by the Ministry of War-but he had yet to ascertain the forces behind them, and declaring his support rashly would let others use him as their weapon.

He thought of a third man.

"Your son believes Kang Zhengyuan, commander of the Huainan river embankment garrison, could be transferred north."

The Minister of War frowned. "Kang Zhengyuan is competent enough at managing river works, but the northern frontier means warfare. He lacks seniority."

Xiao Huaijin raised his head. "Kang Zhengyuan has commanded two thousand guards in Huainan. In three years, there has not been a single mutiny, nor has he embezzled a single tael of construction funds. The defeat on the northern frontier was not due to a shortage of soldiers, but to an unsteady commander. A man with sufficient seniority is not necessarily dependable."

For a moment, the court was silent. Several men remembered the same thing at once-the words Xiao Lin had spoken when he appointed that veteran to the northern frontier years ago: judge a man by his ability, not his seniority. What Xiao Huaijin said today differed in wording from what his imperial father had said back then, but beneath the flesh, the bones were the same.

Xiao Lin looked at his crown prince. He looked for a long time. His gaze was as cool as ever, but it lingered longer than anyone had expected. The courtiers held their breath, waiting for His Majesty's answer.

"We will discuss it further."

Xiao Huaijin stepped back into place, his expression calm, his fingers clenched white inside his sleeves. He did not understand what had gone wrong. His recommendation was reasonable, his reasoning sound. He had even thought beforehand to avoid suspicion and had not put forward one of his own men. Yet his imperial father had shelved the matter.

After court, the Minister of Works caught up with him and lowered his voice. "Your Highness, today's problem was not that you recommended the wrong man. It was that you went about recommending him far too correctly. So correctly that His Majesty felt you were surveying his court."

Xiao Huaijin stopped walking.

"I was only-" He broke off without continuing. He suddenly realized that every word he had said today would become something else in the eyes of the veteran ministers. He had not been helping his imperial father shoulder his burdens; he had been displaying his own judgment. And judgment was an ability elsewhere, but in an heir apparent, it was a double-edged sword.

He remembered what Zhou Rucheng had said that day-Your Highness looks more and more like His Majesty in his youth. The Grand Tutor had spoken with feeling, but after turning it over in his mind for three months, he increasingly felt that perhaps it had not been praise. It was a warning. If a son resembled his father, his father would suspect him. Resemblance was a kind of sin.

At the end of July, the Noble Consort made her move.

A newly appointed Hanlin scholar at the Imperial Academy submitted a memorial stating that the second prince possessed exceptional learning and that, according to ancestral precedent, a prince of fourteen should enter court to observe affairs of government. He respectfully requested His Majesty's permission. The memorial was written without a single crack for water to seep through-it did not mention the crown prince once, nor say a word about the succession, speaking only of ancestral precedent, rules, and the cultivation of a prince.

Xiao Lin approved it. No one was surprised. What surprised them was what happened next-after Xiao Yu entered court, he took the third position in the eastern rank, immediately below Xiao Huaijin. Xiao Yu was modest, addressing everyone he met at morning court as "my lord," occasionally passing along a memorial or a message for someone, his two dimples making his smile seem particularly harmless. In less than a month, he was immensely well liked at court. Elsewhere, being well liked was embroidery added to brocade; at court, it was a foundation.

Xiao Huaijin sensed that gaze-every morning at court, the youth standing beside him would bow with the gentlest of manners and call him "Crown Prince Brother," then withdraw to the position below him and exchange a perfectly measured smile with the surrounding courtiers. There was no malice whatsoever in that smile, and precisely because of that, it made Xiao Huaijin more uncomfortable than any malice could.

The fifteenth day of the eighth month. Mid-Autumn.

As custom dictated, a banquet was held in the palace, and all the palace households gathered in the Hall of Supreme Harmony. Xiao Huaijin sat at the first table on the eastern side, with Xiao Yu diagonally opposite him, a row of dancing girls between them. Halfway through the banquet, Xiao Lin raised his cup as usual, and everyone followed suit. Xiao Yu rose with his wine cup and walked over to Xiao Huaijin.

"Crown Prince Brother, I offer you this toast-the Huainan river embankments benefit both the country and its people. Your younger brother admires you greatly."

Xiao Huaijin raised his cup as well. "You are too kind, Second Brother."

Their cups touched. After draining his wine, Xiao Yu suddenly lowered his voice a little, speaking so that only the two of them could hear. "That was a truly fine stratagem when you recommended Kang Zhengyuan, Crown Prince Brother-a pity Imperial Father did not approve it."

Xiao Huaijin's cup paused. He was needling him, needling the embarrassment of having his proposal publicly shelved in court that day, needling the fact that he had received no answer before all the civil and military officials. But Xiao Yu wore a smile throughout, warm and gentle, harmless. Xiao Huaijin smiled too.

"You have only been at court a month, Second Brother, yet you are already so familiar even with the generals in Huainan-next time the Ministry of War discusses its business, I really ought to let you speak first."

Their cups met with an exceptionally clear chime. No one around them noticed this brief clash. Shen Mingzhu chatted and laughed animatedly among the titled ladies, while Xiao Lin sat behind the imperial table and took a sip of wine.

After the banquet ended, Xiao Huaijin walked back alone. At the entrance to the Eastern Palace, he stopped and turned around, suddenly asking his personal eunuch, "Do I resemble Imperial Father?"

The eunuch froze. In all the years since this prince had entered the palace, he had never asked anything about His Majesty. The eunuch knew very well what should and should not be said. He merely bowed and murmured, "Your Highness cuts a heroic figure-"

Xiao Huaijin shook his head without waiting for an answer. He pushed open the doors of the Eastern Palace and went inside.

The Mid-Autumn moon was very large, hanging above the upturned eaves of the Forbidden City, cold and clear, illuminating the outlines of every palace with perfect clarity. He stood in the courtyard and looked up at the moon. Moonlight fell across his face.

At sixteen, Xiao Huaijin no longer smiled. When he did not smile, his profile resembled a blade not yet drawn from its sheath. And between a blade and its master, there had never been any need for another hand to wield it.