“You don’t like any of those that the Ministry of Rites sent you?”

 

Fang Linyuan named that little horse Liu Huo, and in just a few years, it had been raised into the most famous, most beautiful steed in the capital of Shangjing.

By then, Fang Linyuan was already past seventeen.

The spring grass was lush, the season when Shangjing’s spring scenery was at its most splendid. Alone with his horse, galloping across the polo field by Qujiang Pool, he was the most dazzling young man in the capital.

On the field, even the most renowned young masters of the Wang family could not defeat him.

The gongs sounded across the field, and this time, Fang Linyuan had again beaten the Wang family’s son by three rounds, winning brilliantly.

Cheers rose from all around the field. Fang Linyuan swung the polo stick back over his shoulder and reached out to stroke Liu Huo’s smooth, glossy mane.

Wang Chang’s voice came from not far away.

“Good lad, after so many days apart, you still play polo with no mercy.” He laughed as he grumbled at Fang Linyuan, tossing his mallet to a waiting attendant. Tilting his head, he happened to catch sight of the grand, resplendent carriage parked by the poolside.

“The prince from the palace came to watch too?” He was somewhat surprised.

An attendant beside him laughed and said: “Yes indeed, it’s the Fifth Highness. The match had barely begun when he arrived.”

“The Fifth Highness…”

At this, Wang Chang followed the direction of his gaze.

Sure enough, that second young master of the Fang family vaulted off his horse, polo stick in hand, and strode straight toward the carriage.

“As I thought—he came to watch Fang Linyuan again!” Wang Chang ground his teeth. “That brat Fang Linyuan is bound to rake it in again. Next time I see him, I’ll make him treat me to a proper feast!”

“How would Young Master Fang be earning money? He was just playing polo out on the field,” the attendant asked with a laugh.

“You still don’t get it?” Wang Chang kicked him. “With the Fifth Highness here, hasn’t he always been betting big on Fang Linyuan?”

*

Fang Linyuan lifted the carriage curtain in one motion, and inside he saw Zhao Chu brewing tea.

He was seated at the little table within, his long fingers holding a white jade teapot. Beams of light streamed through the carved window panels, falling across the golden-jade crown beneath which rested a pair of peach-blossom eyes.

The fragrance of tea mingled with the sweetness of pastries, drifting outward—it was unmistakably Eunuch Wang’s handiwork.

In that instant, Fang Linyuan’s eyes lit up.

“You came out of the palace today too!” Fang Linyuan bent down and ducked into the carriage.

Zhao Chu nodded slightly, setting the freshly brewed tea in front of him. “I came here to the imperial gardens in my mother the Empress’s stead to host a banquet. I heard you were competing here just now, so I came to take a look.”

Fang Linyuan smiled until his eyes curved shut. “Well? I just won three rounds in a row, and the prize this time is a fine one.”

Zhao Chu nodded again. “You played beautifully. I saw.”

“You don’t even ask what the prize is!” Fang Linyuan held the teacup, his eyes brimming with anticipation as he stared at Zhao Chu.

Zhao Chu curled his lips into a faint smile, tilting his head: “And what is it?”

Fang Linyuan slapped his thigh. “An authentic work of Master Zhongshan!” he exclaimed. “Twelve scrolls in total—I recall your palace has only eleven. This is the last one. With it, the whole set is complete!”

Zhao Chu paused slightly, looking at him. “You won it especially for me?” he asked.

“Yes.” Fang Linyuan answered without hesitation. “Well… maybe not entirely.”

“Oh?” Zhao Chu looked at him, waiting quietly for the rest.

“After all, in the capital, aside from polo, there really isn’t much else interesting to do,” Fang Linyuan said. “Unlike my elder brother—he’s at the border every year, able to train troops and fight those Turkic soldiers. Isn’t that far more satisfying than being stuck in the capital?”

At this point, Fang Linyuan couldn’t help letting out a sigh.

Zhao Chu looked at him, his gaze lingering for a moment, silent.

He too had heard.

Fang Linyuan was reaching the age, yet he had no plans to conduct the imperial examinations. In these past two years, more than once he had thought of sending a memorial to the Empress, requesting to be sent to the frontier for practice.

Zhao Chu knew that he ought to go there. His ability to recite military classics backwards from childhood, his grand strategies of commanding thousands of troops on paper—these were never things that could be put to use within the capital.

Only…

He looked at Fang Linxuan, and for a moment, it was difficult to put into words the emotions stirring in his heart.

Until a servant outside the carriage knocked on the door, pulling Zhao Chu out of his thoughts.

The door opened, Fang Linxuan took the brocade box the servant handed over, opened it to take a look, then passed it to Zhao Chu.

“Here, this is for you!”

His momentary gloom vanished in an instant; when he looked at Zhao Chu now, it was once again with a radiant smile.

Zhao Chu accepted the brocade box with one hand, raising his eyes to look at Fang Linxuan.

“What is it?” Fang Linxuan asked him.

Zhao Chu stayed silent for a moment, then shook his head.

“Nothing,” he said.

*

That day when Zhao Chu returned to the palace, Dou Qingyi summoned him to Chengqian Hall.

Matters like hosting banquets and entertaining guests, such trivialities, she had long delegated to Zhao Chu, and usually never interfered.

This time was no different.

As soon as Zhao Chu had taken his place before her, Dou Qingyi glanced at him, then pointed to the pile of scrolls on her desk, saying: “These were sent by the ministers of the Ministry of Rites. Take them back with you and have a look.”

Zhao Chu stepped forward and saw that the stack of scrolls was bound with scarlet silk ribbons.

“What are these?” His brows moved slightly. He picked one from the top and untied the ribbon with one hand.

“They say you are reaching the proper age, so it’s time to start preparing for your betrothal.” Dou Qingyi did not even raise her eyes. “I have no demands about family status or appearance. Since they’ve sent them, just look through them yourself. If one pleases you, then you may choose a day to meet.”

From the corner of her eye, she saw Zhao Chu’s hands suddenly stop in the act of unrolling the scroll.

Dou Qingyi raised her eyes, and saw him holding the scroll with one hand, his face expressionless.

“What is it?” she asked.

But he simply rewound the silk ribbon onto the scroll and placed it back on her desk.

“There’s no need to look at these,” he said. “If this is all Mother-Emperor summoned me for today, then your son will take his leave.”

Dou Qingyi scrutinized him for a moment, then nodded: “Go, then.”

Zhao Chu bowed and left.

When the doors of the hall closed before her, Dou Qingyi lifted a hand to rub her brow, and ordered Songyan at her side: “Send people to return these portraits to the Ministry of Rites.”

Songyan stepped forward with a smile and said: “It seems the Fifth Highness is still young. Not yet at the age of awakening (NT: idiom: to open up, usually about love). We can wait another two years.”

Dou Qingyi rubbed her forehead, and after a moment her gaze fell on the stack of portraits.

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“Your Majesty means…?”

“Today he left the palace. Wasn’t it to go watch the Fang family’s young master play ball again?” Dou Qingyi asked.

Songyan hesitated: “Yes.”

“Hm.” Dou Qingyi gave a single sound in reply. Under Songyan’s expectant gaze, she said no more.

*

The Ministry of Rites was already preparing for the Fifth Highness’s betrothal.

News of this quickly spread both within and outside the palace. All those dukes, marquises, and ministers with daughters of marriageable age were immediately restless, and many went to the Ministry of Rites to inquire for information.

Fang Linxuan naturally heard some of it as well.

“I heard the Fifth Highness is extremely choosy. The portraits the Ministry of Rites sent over were all rejected. They say not a single one caught his eye.” A young nobleman who often played with him said. “It made my father so happy that he immediately invited a painter overnight to make a portrait of my younger sister.”

“Didn’t your sister say she wanted to sit for the examinations?” someone asked.

“Aiya, it’s my second younger sister who’s set on the examinations, the portrait is for my third younger sister,” that young nobleman said. “Besides, who doesn’t know the Fifth Highness’s status? Even if one were only to marry him as a concubine, in the future she would still enter the palace as a consort. Isn’t that the greatest of honors?”

The people around all nodded in deep agreement.

“It’s just a pity.” The young nobleman sighed. “I’m not at all familiar with the Fifth Highness. Otherwise, if I could speak to him privately, I might even let him meet my sister in advance.”

Saying this, he nudged Fang Linxuan with his shoulder: “It’s a pity for you, too. You have the best relationship with the Fifth Highness, but your family is filled entirely with sons.”

Fang Linxuan seemed a little absent-minded, and only when nudged did he return to himself.

Zhao Chu was to be betrothed already? So soon?

He did not know why, but he felt somewhat dazed. In that daze, no matter what, he could not feel happy.

He forced a smile and nodded, brushing the topic aside. But in truth, he had only dismissed it verbally.

In the days that followed, every time Fang Linxuan saw Zhao Chu, he would be reminded of the fact that Zhao Chu was to be betrothed.

So much so that his gaze was always wandering, his mind absent — even the pastries brought to him by Zhao Chu, made by Eunuch Wang’s most skillful hand, he suddenly had no appetite for.

Finally, one day, after he had eaten only half a pastry before putting it down, Zhao Chu placed one hand firmly on his wrist.

Fang Linxuan was startled. “What’s wrong?”

He lifted his eyes, and saw Zhao Chu looking at him, gaze so deep that his heart grew flustered without knowing why.

“It should be me asking you,” Zhao Chu said. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Me?” Fang Linxuan pointed at himself in confusion.

“You’ve been absent-minded for days now,” Zhao Chu said bluntly.

Fang Linxuan blinked.

That…

He wasn’t sure himself.

His good friend was to be betrothed, and he kept thinking about it distractedly—why was that?

He opened his mouth, but for a while didn’t know how to say it.

“Has someone given you a hard time, or have you run into trouble?” Zhao Chu’s brows had already furrowed.

Fang Linxuan quickly waved his hands. “No!” he said. “It’s just…”

He looked at Zhao Chu, and after a moment asked softly:

“Those things the Ministry of Rites sent you… you didn’t like any of them?”

“What?”

“The portraits,” Fang Linxuan said softly, looking at him. “The betrothal portraits.”

Translator : DarNan