Framed (recollection)

Autumn, the twenty-first year of Jianxi.

The year had been unsettled since the beginning of spring.

First, trouble arose with the rotation of troops on the northern frontier, and Kang Zhengyuan never did make it there. Xiao Lin selected another man recommended by the Ministry of War. Three months into his post, that man embezzled military pay, and a memorial from the Censorate brought the charge before the emperor. He was imprisoned, the frontier troops grew restless, and the Tartars seized the opportunity to attack again. They failed to breach the pass, but two thousand men were lost.

Then a crack appeared in the Huainan river embankment. The Ministry of Works sent men to inspect it. It was not a large crack, they said, and did not affect the main structure. Yet somehow, the words "the embankment supervised by the crown prince has cracked" spread through the court. Those repeating them would not say whether it was a natural disaster or human negligence, nor would they mention that the crack was only three feet long and had already been repaired. They said only that it had "cracked," every spearhead aimed at the Eastern Palace.

The winds at court shifted faster still.

Xiao Lin's health also visibly worsened that year. His cold had never fully cleared since the previous winter, and his cough dragged on intermittently for more than half a year. He grew thinner, his eyes sinking deeper into their sockets. The imperial physicians changed his prescriptions several times without effect. Finally, the head of the Imperial Medical Academy steeled himself and said, "Your Majesty must rest." Xiao Lin glanced at him, and that look frightened the old physician into kneeling on the floor, not daring to lift his head. Morning court proceeded as usual the next day.

Liu An attended him, watching His Majesty drink his medicine and review memorials, finish reviewing memorials and drink another bowl of medicine, then rise before dawn to attend court again. He wanted to remonstrate but did not dare. Once His Majesty had set his mind on something, no one could pull him back.

The noble consort's quarters, by contrast, were quiet. All year, Shen Mingzhu never mentioned granting Xiao Yu a princely title or requested any favors. She even voluntarily reduced the Palace of Nurtured Elegance's expenditure by a tenth. Some officials privately remarked that Her Highness the noble consort understood the greater good. When Liu An heard this, the corner of his mouth twitched, but he said nothing. He had lived in the palace for nearly fifty years. He knew which people were most frightening.

That year, Xiao Huaijin turned seventeen.

By ancestral law, the crown prince was to undergo his capping ceremony at seventeen. Afterward, he could serve as regent, command troops, and legitimately exercise imperial authority when the emperor left the capital. The Ministry of Rites had begun preparations at the start of the year and drafted three versions of the ceremony's proceedings. Each time one reached the Hall of Mental Cultivation, Xiao Lin wrote the same words.

"Discuss it again."

After three rounds of further discussion, the minister of rites finally could not help asking Liu An. Liu An weighed his words for a long time before saying only, "His Majesty has his own considerations." His eyelids remained lowered as he spoke. He dared not look at anyone.

Xiao Huaijin did not ask. On the day he turned seventeen, there was no celebration in the Eastern Palace. His wet nurse secretly cooked a bowl of longevity noodles and brought it to his desk. He took two bites, then looked up and smiled at her.

"Nanny, the noodles are a little salty."

His wet nurse said she had added too much salt, then turned away and secretly wiped her eyes. She could see perfectly well. How could His Highness be complaining about the salt? He simply could not smile. Over the years, he had smiled less and less. He had grown thin, his face all sharp angles. When he did not smile, he even looked somewhat cold.

The decree authorizing his capping ceremony never came.

One day in the twelfth lunar month, Xiao Huaijin went to the Hall of Mental Cultivation to pay his respects.

He could no longer remember how many times he had been turned away at the doors of the Hall of Mental Cultivation, nor how many times he had entered only to be dismissed with a wave after saying, "Your son pays his respects." Still, he insisted on going every day. By this point, paying his respects was no longer about expecting a response. It was a habit, like the sun rising in the east each day, like the lamps in the Eastern Palace burning late into every night, like that faded cloak lying folded at his bedside year after year.

That day, Xiao Lin let him in. The hall smelled strongly of medicine, and the memorials piled on the imperial desk were half again as numerous as usual. Xiao Lin sat behind it, brush in hand, his face very pale. Xiao Huaijin bowed, and Xiao Lin did not tell him to rise. Only after he had knelt for a while did Xiao Lin speak.

"The crown prince's capping ceremony. Do you think I should approve it?"

Xiao Huaijin knelt on the floor. Seventeen years, and his imperial father had never called him by his name. Even now, it was the same.

"Your son will abide by your arrangements, Father."

Xiao Lin glanced at him. There was much in that glance, but it vanished so quickly that Xiao Huaijin had no time to distinguish any of it.

"Abide by my arrangements." Xiao Lin repeated those words, his tone betraying no rise or fall. "The Huainan embankment cracked. And the man you recommended for the change of command on the northern frontier was not the one I chose. You abide by my arrangements?"

Xiao Huaijin's back went rigid. He wanted to say that the crack in the Huainan embankment had been caused by a natural disaster and that the Ministry of Works had already repaired it. He wanted to say that he had recommended Kang Zhengyuan for his ability, not to form a faction. The words clogged his throat. Not one came out. Because he suddenly realized that his imperial father had not summoned him today to ask his opinion. His imperial father was warning him.

"...Your son acknowledges his fault."

Xiao Lin said nothing. After a long silence, he set down his brush.

"You may withdraw."

As Xiao Huaijin left the Hall of Mental Cultivation, he stumbled over the threshold. Standing outside the hall, he looked at the snow filling the sky and suddenly felt that being seventeen was no different from being four, standing in the imperial garden waiting for his imperial father to turn around.

Trouble came as soon as the New Year had passed.

On the ninth day of the first month in the twenty-second year of Jianxi, the Censorate submitted an impeachment against an official of the Eastern Palace-Zhou Ming, the crown prince's attendant. The charge was simple: during his time in Huainan, Zhou Ming had embezzled three thousand taels of riverworks funds, with account books as proof. Zhou Ming was an old associate Xiao Huaijin had brought back from Huainan, an honest man whom he trusted. He did not believe Zhou Ming would embezzle money. Yet the evidence was laid before the court: accounts, witnesses, dates, every detail fitting together without a gap.

Xiao Huaijin spoke in Zhou Ming's defense before the court. "Zhou Ming accompanied your son in Huainan for three years and handled every sum of money. Three separate audits by the Ministry of Revenue found no problems. These accounts-"

"These accounts are from the Ministry of Revenue's audit this year." The censor's voice was unhurried. "Your Highness, old accounts from three years ago and new accounts from this year are not necessarily the same thing."

Xiao Huaijin said no more. He saw Xiao Yu standing opposite him. Xiao Yu's head was lowered, his face expressionless. Yet there was the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth, like cold light gleaming along a blade.

Zhou Ming was imprisoned. Though the crown prince himself was not implicated, no one was a fool. Once the Eastern Palace's men were investigated, its master would be next. From that day onward, the winds at court changed. Before, officials passing Xiao Huaijin would clasp their hands and address him as Your Highness. Now they hurried past with lowered heads, as though afraid of being implicated in something.

Then came the second month. Someone reported that the Eastern Palace was secretly harboring a dragon robe.

When the Imperial Guard came to search, Xiao Huaijin stood at the entrance to the Eastern Palace and watched them turn every room upside down. He did not know what expression he should wear. Anger meant a guilty conscience; composure meant deep scheming. In the end, he chose silence. He stood in the snow and watched the Imperial Guard emerge from the Eastern Palace carrying a wooden chest. Inside was a dragon robe-bright yellow, embroidered with five-clawed golden dragons, exactly like the one his imperial father wore.

Xiao Huaijin stared at the dragon robe, his head buzzing. He had not secretly harbored a dragon robe. He did not know where this one had come from. But no one would believe him if he said so. The matter was already settled. It had been found in his Eastern Palace, before everyone's eyes.

Yet Xiao Huaijin still clung to a shred of hope that his imperial father would investigate thoroughly: trace where the dragon robe had been woven, investigate those entering and leaving the Eastern Palace, examine how the Imperial Guard had conducted the search. He wrote three full pages in his defense and personally delivered them to the Hall of Mental Cultivation.

Xiao Lin did not read his defense. Sitting behind his desk, he looked at Xiao Huaijin kneeling on the floor and asked one question.

"You want me to investigate the Imperial Guard?"

Xiao Huaijin raised his head.

"Your son did not secretly harbor a dragon robe. Someone must have planted it-"

"The Imperial Guard is my Imperial Guard. The Eastern Palace they searched is my Eastern Palace. You want me to investigate the Imperial Guard. Does that mean one day you will want me to investigate myself?"

Xiao Huaijin froze. He suddenly understood something: whether he was innocent no longer mattered.

The third month. The third incident.

An old palace attendant serving the crown prince confessed to sorcery. His surname was Wang, and he had served Xiao Huaijin for seven years. After being apprehended, he gave a lengthy confession: the crown prince had a secret chamber in the Eastern Palace, and inside it was a curse doll inscribed with His Majesty's birth date and hour. The Ministry of Justice investigated. There was indeed a secret chamber-a small side room in the Eastern Palace used to store old books, long in disrepair and kept locked year-round. There was a doll, too. It was found behind a dust-covered cabinet, and it was indeed inscribed with the birth date and hour.

Xiao Huaijin was eating in the Eastern Palace when he heard the news. He put down his chopsticks.

"Palace Attendant Wang..." His voice was very soft, as though he were speaking to himself. "He has a nephew serving in the Palace of Nurtured Elegance. He was transferred there three years ago."

The eunuch beside him froze and asked whom His Highness meant. Xiao Huaijin shook his head and said nothing more. He suddenly felt tired, exhausted in both body and mind. He looked up and glanced out the window. The night stretched endlessly on.

At morning court the next day, he was summoned to the Hall of Supreme Harmony.

The officials stood in two rows throughout the hall, and Xiao Lin sat on the dragon throne. Xiao Huaijin knelt on the cold golden floor tiles in the center, his knees striking the ground with a dull sound.

"The crown prince formed a faction, concealed a dragon robe, and practiced sorcery. Both witnesses and material evidence are present." The minister of justice's voice echoed through the hall. "We beseech Your Majesty's sacred judgment."

No one spoke. Xiao Huaijin lowered his head and looked at his own reflection in the golden tiles.

He suddenly remembered that year in the imperial garden, when his imperial father had plucked a peony and handed it to him. He had thought it was a beginning. Only later had he learned that it was merely an exception. In seventeen years, how many such exceptions had there been between him and his imperial father? A cloak, a peony, a bowl of ginger soup, a single "Mm." He had spent seventeen years gathering these few scattered moments, remembering every one with perfect clarity. And now, all those scattered moments had become the same question: Father, have you ever believed me at all?

He raised his head and looked at the man on the dragon throne without speaking. There was no hatred in his eyes. They were terrifyingly empty.

Xiao Lin sat on the dragon throne, looking at him.

In his twenty-two years on the throne, he had killed more people than stood in this court. Every decision he had made in his life had been piled upon human lives. He had never hesitated over one, never regretted one. Yet at this moment, he hesitated. Looking at the crown prince kneeling in the center of the hall, he felt that this youth was a mirror. In it was his own younger face: the same bone structure, the same stubbornness, the same spine that refused to bow even while kneeling before an emperor.

He feared this mirror. He had feared it for seventeen years. Feared it so much he dared not call his name, dared not look him in the eye. Feared it so much he sent him to Huainan only to summon him back, so much he kept refusing to approve his capping ceremony. Because seeing him meant seeing what he least wanted to see.

Of course he knew a dragon robe could be planted, evidence of sorcery fabricated, a palace attendant bribed. But knowing was one thing; making a decision was another.

If he believed this son was truly forming a faction for private gain, truly practicing sorcery to curse him to death, truly hiding a dragon robe in a secret chamber while waiting for him to die, then his seventeen years of hesitation and fear had all been right. The neglect had been right, the estrangement had been right, never allowing this child close to him had been right.

Whether he believed him or not, he would lose this person. But he had to protect this position first. It was an instinct carved into his bones. He could not change it.

Xiao Lin's fingers tapped the armrest of the dragon throne one final time.

"Crown Prince Xiao Huaijin has formed a faction for private gain, practiced sorcery, and plotted treason."

His voice was cold.

"Effective immediately, he is stripped of his position as crown prince and confined to the Eastern Palace. Without my decree, he may not leave."

The court was utterly silent. Kneeling on the golden tiles, Xiao Huaijin swayed when he heard "stripped of his position as crown prince," but he did not fall. Slowly, deeply, he kowtowed. His forehead rested against the icy floor for a long time.

Then he stood. No one escorted him under guard. He turned and walked toward the doors himself.

At the entrance, he paused. He did not look back. He stood before the threshold of the Hall of Supreme Harmony, the court behind him deathly silent. Before him lay the long white marble passage and the snow covering the entire Forbidden City. He wanted to say something. His lips parted, but he found that no words would come.

Seventeen years. He had called him Father since he first learned to speak, had called him that for seventeen years. Now he did not know whether he still could. He stepped over the threshold, and snow settled on his shoulders.

Inside the hall, Xiao Lin sat on the dragon throne and watched that retreating figure disappear into the light at the doorway. Kneeling nearby, Liu An saw His Majesty press his fingers against the armrest until his knuckles whitened.

That evening, in the Hall of Mental Cultivation, Xiao Lin sat at his desk reviewing memorials. Halfway through, he abruptly set down his brush.

"Liu An. Does the Eastern Palace have enough charcoal?"

Liu An faltered. "Your Majesty, the Eastern Palace receives its customary allotment."

"Double it."

"...Yes."

Xiao Lin picked up his brush again. After a moment, he spoke once more.

"Do not do it in my name."

Liu An's eyes suddenly stung. He bowed and withdrew, then stood outside the hall and wiped the corners of his eyes.

In the Palace of Nurtured Elegance, Shen Mingzhu stood at the window watching the snow.

Xiao Yu stood behind her.

"Mother," Xiao Yu said softly, "he has been deposed. But Father has not named your son crown prince."

Shen Mingzhu said nothing. She lightly traced a finger over the window lattice, her nail scraping the grain of the wood with a barely audible sound.

"What is the hurry?" She gazed toward the distant Eastern Palace, the curve of her lips flickering in and out of the candlelight. "A deposed crown prince is still a crown prince. A dead crown prince-is not."

Outside the window, the snow fell harder and harder. The candlelight in the Eastern Palace still burned, like a forgotten star amid the snow filling the sky.