Elio’s Notes: The Rites of Zhou is an ancient classical work concerned with ritual, government, hierarchy, and proper social order. The title jokingly means, essentially, “Is this behavior even proper?”
Wei Fu smiled like a fox that had just stolen a chicken and was about to lick his paws before beginning the interrogation when Wei Rong suddenly knocked softly outside. “The hot-water bed warmer Young Master requested is ready, and the hot porridge and food can be served as well.”
His mischief interrupted, Wei Fu casually lowered the bed curtains, rose, opened the door, and let him inside.
Wei Rong placed the food box on the tea table and secretly glanced toward the bed from the corner of his eye. Earlier, when he first came in, the room had been pitch dark and he had seen nothing clearly. Now, through the gauze curtains, he could make out only the vague outline of a figure and still could not determine whether the person was male or female.
While he hesitated, Wei Fu reached for the bed warmer himself, slipped through a narrow gap in the curtains, and let the drapes fall closed behind him. The bed was concealed so thoroughly that Wei Rong could not see the slightest thing.
This residence had belonged to Wei Fu’s parents and carried extraordinary significance for him. Even members of the Duke Who Stabilizes the Nation’s household did not normally visit. Today was the first time Wei Fu had ever brought someone here. Wei Rong’s curiosity surged. He lowered his head and busied himself with the food box while pricking up his aging ears.
Wei Fu’s voice was quiet, gentle, and unmistakably intimate. “It’s very hot. Put it by your feet and be careful not to kick it. Is that warmer?”
The person inside sounded like a young man. His voice was calm and faintly distant. “It’s fine. Thank you.”
Wei Fu’s voice grew softer. His manner was gentle and attentive enough that, to Wei Rong’s ears, he was plainly coaxing someone. “…You’ve been running around half the day. You definitely missed dinner, and you probably can’t stomach anything rich right now. At least drink some porridge…”
The man behind the curtains seemed extremely resistant and rebuked him under his breath. “…No need. Don’t you dare. Keep dreaming.”
The diligent, loyal old servant Wei felt waves eight zhang high crashing through his heart. Their Young Master was a dignified son of a great family, a refined civil official. True, everyone praised him for being gentle and approachable—but that gentleness was always measured, that warmth courteous and restrained. Wei Rong had never seen him behave so attentively toward anyone. And the other person still rejected him!
Instead of being offended, the smile in Wei Fu’s voice deepened. “…No? Alright. If you say no, then no. I don’t mean anything bad. I only want you to be a little more comfortable…”
Wei Rong: “…”
Well. Perhaps one could not entirely blame the other person. Who would not become alarmed hearing something like that?
Because a third person was in the room, both men kept their voices extremely low. They were currently locked in a struggle over “Can you even hold the bowl yourself? Should I feed you?” and “Stop embarrassing yourself and get away from me,” completely unaware that their audience had already been shocked into silent screaming.
A deal was hardly a deal if you were the one chasing after it—and paying to boot was even worse!
A moment later, Wei Fu emerged through the curtains. The corners of his eyes were relaxed and faintly curved, full of easy laughter, as though he had not just been scolded but had gone outside and basked in a mild spring breeze. He floated toward the table in excellent spirits, touched the porcelain bowl to test the porridge, then nodded in satisfaction. “Not too hot and not too cold. Just right. Uncle Wei, go rest. I can manage the rest.”
Wei Rong hesitated. “Young Master…”
Wei Fu concentrated entirely on the bowl of porridge, reluctant even to turn his head. He merely raised his eyes, one brow lifting. “Mm? What is it?”
Wei Rong wanted desperately to offer his young master some remonstrance, but could think of no suitable historical precedent to cite. He lowered his eyes obediently instead. “There is also a bowl of hot pigeon soup, a basket of Shuiming dumplings, and a plate of shaomai. The night is long and cold. Young Master should eat something too.”
Don’t spend the whole night lowering yourself and fawning over somebody!
When Wei Rong looked up again, Wei Fu was already several steps away. “I know. Go on.”
Wei Rong silently turned and left. Even while closing the door, he could hear faint voices from behind the curtain.
“How about this one?”
“Take it away.”
It seemed unlikely that the Young Master’s problem would improve anytime soon. Wei Rong sighed heavily and returned to his room.
Fengdu cuisine was famous for its delicacy and lightness. The japonica rice porridge cooked with walnuts and goji berries was neither too thick nor too thin and had cooled to exactly the right temperature for sipping. The Shuiming dumplings were filled with sweet bean paste, which Yugong Zhaoye found too sweet, but the bamboo-shoot-and-pork shaomai suited his taste, so the two shared a plate.
It was not wise to lie down immediately after eating. Wei Fu cleared the bowls and plates, poured tea for Yugong Zhaoye to rinse his mouth, then deliberately introduced another topic to keep him talking. “That interruption doesn’t count. Your Highness still hasn’t told me anything. Earlier you insisted Bihua had already disbanded. So did you simply switch careers—from assassin to king?”
Yugong Zhaoye fell silent for an instant. He had known there would be no fooling his way past this.
By revealing his identity before Wei Fu, he had effectively confirmed that Bihua—the supreme assassin organization feared by every nation—was still active in secret and closely connected to the Longsha royal family.
And although “assassin” sounded impressive, it was ultimately a profession in which one sold one’s life. They lived with their heads hanging from their belts. Their names went unrecognized, their achievements could never be proclaimed, and some so-called accomplishments were really dirty work that had never belonged to any respectable path. As a royal prince of Longsha, however unfavored he might have been, there was no reason for his king to cast him into such work.
There were numerous secrets of the royal household tangled behind this. Explaining them in detail to an official of Xiling was, frankly, dangerous.
But things had already come this far. If he still pretended ignorance or brushed Wei Fu off with evasive nonsense, it would show far too little regard for him.
Yugong Zhaoye leaned against the pillows and carefully chose his words. “I never switched careers. I’ve always done this. I volunteered.”
Wei Fu: “…”
That sounded exactly like something said by a man with no way out.
“Was it…” he asked hesitantly, “because you loved doing it?”
Yugong Zhaoye thought for a moment. “Because I could never inherit the throne, so I had to find myself some work.”
Wei Fu reacted like a country bumpkin entering the capital for the first time and even applauded lightly. “Wow. Are the futures of Longsha princes always this extreme? Either become king or become an assassin?”
“That isn’t what I meant,” Yugong Zhaoye said. “His biological sons didn’t have that problem. I was the only one who could never become king.”
Someone extraordinarily skilled at hiding things sounded almost recklessly self-destructive once he decided to tell the truth without ornament.
“Oh… wait… uh, Your Highness?” Wei Fu stared at him like a startled goose and carefully tugged his sleeve. “Did I ask something I shouldn’t have?”
“If what we discuss tonight reaches a third person…” Yugong Zhaoye made a throat-cutting gesture.
Wei Fu understood instantly and patted his chest. “This secret will rot in my stomach and enter the coffin with me. I will never tell anyone.”
Yugong Zhaoye did not stop him from making such a grave promise. That alone showed how serious what followed would be. “I am not the late emperor’s biological son. The reason I possess my current status is that my mother once made an agreement with him.”
He stopped there and did not explain the agreement. Yet merely revealing that he was not the emperor’s biological son was equivalent to placing his future and his very life in Wei Fu’s hands.
Throughout history, confusion over imperial bloodlines usually happened because no one knew the truth. Emperor Zheng’an, Yugong Du, had already behaved extraordinarily by insisting on taking a bandit woman as his Noble Consort, yet he had willingly acknowledged the unrelated child she brought with her as his own son. Later rulers not only failed to expose or punish the deception, they bestowed a princely title upon the child and further secured his position. And that prince’s second identity was that of an imperial assassin.
Calling the situation merely “absurd” no longer came close. From top to bottom, Longsha seemed to possess a bizarre fondness for taking the most dangerous, unconventional path available.
Wei Fu had weathered his share of storms. He pretended to remain calm and took a sip of tea to steady himself. Looking again at the perfectly composed Yugong Zhaoye, an indescribable ache arose in his chest.
Yugong Zhaoye could have possessed a bright and splendid life. Instead, he had always walked alone along dark cliffs. Why choose such a difficult, painful road?
Was this the price of an agreement between his mother and the late emperor? Or had Yugong Zhaoye willingly accepted coercion from the royal family in order to protect her?
“Why did Your Highness become an assassin?” Wei Fu asked softly, his fingers brushing the calluses on Yugong Zhaoye’s hand with unconscious heartache. “You had so many other roads available. Wouldn’t it have been better simply to live peacefully as an idle prince with wealth and comfort?”
“Because I was originally supposed to inherit my mother’s profession and become a bandit.” Yugong Zhaoye had no idea why Wei Fu’s voice had suddenly turned so gentle and completely failed to perceive all the emotional twists taking place inside him. With one sentence, he smashed the mystery open. “But my mother was recruited into imperial service by the late emperor, so I inherited her profession in a different form and became an assassin.”
Wei Fu: “…”
Wei Fu: “What? Who? What just happened? Did several extremely important words fly past me all at once?”
Yugong Zhaoye replied with understated modesty, “Ashamed to say it, but the final leader of Bihua was my late mother.”
Wei Fu reverently took Yugong Zhaoye’s hand and tucked it back beneath the blanket, as devout as though making an offering to the Supreme Lord Lao.
“So it’s a family tradition. My respects, my respects.” He sounded entirely sincere. “For Helan Zhenjia back then, and Gu Pingchuan today, to fall into Your Highness’s hands—they must have accumulated blessings for eight lifetimes. They got off cheaply.”
Yugong Zhaoye: “…That praise has gone a little too far. Rein it in.”
Although he habitually ignored outside judgment, he was not ignorant of ordinary values. At the very least, he knew how conventional society would classify his entire family: an emperor who raised another man’s child, a mother who made her living fighting and killing, and Yugong Zhaoye himself, who abandoned a life of comfort in order to seek hardship.
Abnormal.
He had never expected Wei Fu to respond differently and did not particularly care what judgment he received. Yet Wei Fu’s reaction did surprise him—pleasantly.
It was simply too natural. Wei Fu accepted everything without difficulty, immediately found the impressive part, and started praising it. Yugong Zhaoye suspected that even if he claimed his ancestors had sold flatbread for a living, Wei Fu would praise them for possessing lofty aspirations, escaping the misery of the kitchen hearth, and marching toward the glorious cause of saving the common people from suffering.
He sighed helplessly. “Anything else you want to ask?”
Wei Fu trembled dramatically. “If I ask, will Your Highness still let me walk out of this door alive?”
Yugong Zhaoye replied like someone reciting a tongue twister. “If you promise to leave immediately after asking, then yes, you may walk out of this door.”
Wei Fu: “Then I won’t ask.”
Yugong Zhaoye was silent for a long time. At last he gave a faint scoff. “Childish.”
Wei Fu laughed. “Then… one final question. Bihua disbanded. Where is Your Highness employed now?”
Previously, whenever Wei Fu brought up Bihua, Yugong Zhaoye had firmly insisted that Bihua no longer existed. His manner had always been perfectly open: ask him and he would answer that it had disbanded. No evasion, no embellishment. At first, Wei Fu had assumed he was simply being stubborn. Only now did he realize that it had been nothing more than a word game.
The smile on Yugong Zhaoye’s lips faded slightly.
After one breath of silence, he answered softly. “The palace dedicated to the Moon God within the imperial compound was called Bihua Pavilion. In an earlier reign, Emperor Zhangwu wished to eliminate powerful maternal relatives and ministers. During the Mid-Autumn rites, he secretly summoned trusted men to Bihua Pavilion and plotted the assassination of Grand General Yin Ruowang. That was how Bihua began.”
“After Helan Zhenjia was assassinated, every country’s vigilance toward Bihua reached an unprecedented level. A traitor within the organization also leaked information, effectively exposing Bihua to the eyes of the world and leaving it nearly paralyzed. Dissolution was inevitable.”
“Under pressure from every side, the late king ordered Bihua disbanded. Its members scattered. Some had their identities exposed and suffered retaliation. Others changed their allegiance. Only a very small number of absolutely trustworthy people remained in the palace and continued serving.”
“For several years we had no name and could leave behind no trace that pointed toward Longsha. We were effectively invisible. Later, once the storm gradually passed, several new people joined by chance. Once we finally resembled an organization again, the late emperor followed the old Bihua precedent and named us after our base of operations: Yeguang.”
Wei Fu froze, then suddenly understood. “When we parted back then, you told me that if I ever wanted to find you, I could go to Yeguang Hall, the Moon God temple in Bihan City, offer a branch of goji berries, write a wish slip, and tie it to the osmanthus tree in the courtyard. Then you would come see me. That Yeguang… is this Yeguang?”
Yugong Zhaoye gave an acknowledging “Mm.” “Yeguang Hall is a royal temple Emperor Xining commissioned east of Bihan City. It used to be one of Bihua’s contact points as well.”
Wei Fu slowly savored the name Yeguang. Perhaps because affection naturally extended to everything associated with its object, he found it far more pleasing than Bihua. “It suits you perfectly. There could be no more appropriate name for the master of Yeguang than Your Highness.”
Yugong Zhaoye laughed. “Your flattery landed on the wrong person, Young Master Wei. However you calculate it, Yeguang’s master is the current king. I’m merely someone who follows orders and collects a salary. Don’t let a few small favors cloud your judgment.”
This man always spoke of climbing mountains of blades and crossing seas of fire as casually as eating and drinking. Even saving someone’s life became merely “a few small favors.”
Wei Fu had never met Longsha’s new king and had no idea what he looked like or what sort of person he was. But even if the man were the Jade Emperor reborn, wise and mighty beyond comparison, he could not possibly be better suited than Yugong Zhaoye to command an army of blades.
“I’m not deliberately flattering you. I’m only saying what I genuinely think.” Wei Fu sounded almost aggrieved as he corrected him. “Your Highness always compares yourself to the light of a firefly. But if one really considers it, you should correspond to the moon instead—pure and luminous, just like your name.”
“Our customs differ somewhat from those of Xiling,” Yugong Zhaoye said lazily. “In Longsha legend, the Moon God represents changeability, concealment, and deception. He is the patron deity of thieves, assassins, killers, and people of that sort.”
“It’s the ninth day of the month. At this hour, the moon should be setting.” Wei Fu helped him lie down again and carefully tucked the blanket around him. “So even great assassins don’t have to spend every moment running about. It’s time for Your Highness to sleep.”
Yugong Zhaoye had already half closed his eyes. At those words, he opened one again in surprise. “Has the moon risen out of a chimney? You’re suddenly not clingy anymore?”
Wei Fu laughed. “I’ll still be nearby. Your Highness sleeps lightly, doesn’t he? I won’t disturb your peace any longer.”
In truth, if Wei Fu acted pitiful and pestered him a little more, considering how indulgent Yugong Zhaoye had been today, he probably would eventually relent and allow him to remain. But Wei Fu had personally witnessed how alert Yugong Zhaoye remained even in sleep. Compared with a little temporary closeness, he wanted Yugong Zhaoye to have one truly peaceful night.
The clingy creature had suddenly become too sensible. Yugong Zhaoye almost found it uncomfortable. “And you? Are you really sleeping in the woodshed?”
“Mm. I’ll spread bedding on the floor in the woodshed next door.” Wei Fu lied with a perfectly straight face while gently patting him through the blanket. “If you need anything, call once. I’ll hear you.”
Before Yugong Zhaoye could agree or object, Wei Fu hurriedly continued. “Don’t be afraid of troubling me. Back then I caused you more trouble than I can count, and I’ll probably continue causing trouble in the future. So you can order me around however you like, alright?”
That was hardly asking permission anymore. It was spoiled coaxing. How could Yugong Zhaoye possibly say no?
“Don’t worry about anything, A’Ying. Sleep.”
The lamps beyond the curtains were extinguished. Footsteps receded. The door closed softly. At last, the room became quiet.
Only a faint trace of gentian incense lingered beside his pillow, circling stubbornly without fading.
Fatigue and drowsiness pulled Yugong Zhaoye’s consciousness deep into dreams colored blue and violet. For a brief while, he abandoned his excessive vigilance, like a beast on a bitter winter night retracting its claws and sleeping safely within a companion’s warm den.
The next morning, when Yugong Zhaoye opened his eyes, he could clearly distinguish the woven threads of the bed curtains.
Not only had his sight completely recovered, the sky outside was already bright. He had slept far later than usual.
He threw back the covers, climbed out of bed, and moved his limbs. The antidote’s side effects had completely disappeared. Thanks to them, he had slept so deeply and recovered so thoroughly that he actually felt hungry.
The courtyard was quiet. He could hear noisy birds and faint cries from vendors beyond the alley. He pulled on his outer robe and was about to step outside when unhurried footsteps stopped beyond the door. Wei Fu knocked three times. “Your Highness, are you awake?”
Yugong Zhaoye walked over and opened the door.
Brilliant sunlight poured down upon him. At the threshold stood a graceful young gentleman in vivid crimson robes, radiant enough to make Yugong Zhaoye instinctively squint.
He blurted out in astonishment, “Are you getting married today?”
Leave a Reply