Elio’s Notes: The opening plays directly on written Chinese. The character 好, hao, “good,” is formed from 女, “woman,” and 子, “child/son.” Li Congjia then asks what becomes of 子 + 子, turning the written-character structure into a painful reflection on love between two men.
Elio’s Notes: The chapter title 曾照彩云归 comes from Yan Jidao’s Linjiangxian: “The bright moon was there then, once shining upon the returning rosy clouds.” It looks back upon a beautiful presence already slipping into memory.
How could one not believe there was some predestined order to the human world? The character hao, “good,” was formed from nü, “woman,” and zi, “son.” Then what of zi and zi?
Li Congjia only felt that his sins ran deep.
The pain in his body was almost unbearable, but the pain in his heart was worse. Some things could never be explained clearly. Although he did not believe that what had happened that day had been wrong, the position he occupied could only turn it into an accident lying helplessly between himself and Ehuang.
Even Li Congjia could feel helpless.
He hid coldly beneath the quilt and wrapped it tightly around himself. There was no one else there just then. He remained quietly concealed in the darkness, not knowing what to do. Yet he could only allow himself this brief moment of hesitation and sorrow. In the eyes of so many people, he was still the Duke of Anding. There were still things he had to hold together. His double-pupiled eyes stared fixedly at the marks covering his body.
More and more, he wanted simply to hide in some corner where no one could see him.
I have never regretted anything I chose to do. Why am I sitting here wallowing in self-pity now? What use is there in that?
He smiled sorrowfully.
When Ehuang finally brought the physician inside, she still did not dare look at him. She stood quietly to one side, her expression apparently calm, while beneath the concealment of her handkerchief her fingers clenched hard.
Only after the medicine on his wound had been changed and everyone else had withdrawn were the two of them left alone once more.
Li Congjia had already recovered his customary composure. Resting quietly against the bed, he knew even less what he could possibly say.
Ehuang suddenly remembered that she had yet to tell him something important. “There is something I still haven’t told you. You were unconscious for three days, and outside everything has already been turned upside down… The Crown Prince…”
Li Congjia’s gaze abruptly sharpened. “What happened to Brother Hongji?”
“He… died.”
In his sudden distress, the man on the bed pulled at his wound, sending pain straight to the bone. Li Congjia struggled for breath and broke into violent coughing, bending over the pillow with his brows tightly drawn, unable to move.
“Nonsense!”
Ehuang had known he would refuse to believe her. She sighed and went over to him. “It’s true. Congjia, these past few days have already been the period of mourning for the Crown Prince. Feasts, celebrations, music, and dancing are forbidden. He… truly is dead.”
His profile was deathly pale, disbelief written across it. He stared at the pair of golden-thread mandarin ducks embroidered upon the pillow, their necks entwined in perfect affection. After a long while, he spoke in an exceedingly hoarse voice.
“How did he die?”
How could that be? It had only been a few days.
“The news began spreading the morning after the night you were injured. They said the Crown Prince lost his senses inside his residence, went mad, and died. That was the only explanation given.”
“The morning after the night I was injured?”
Li Congjia could think only of those words: lost his senses, went mad, and died.
The more he considered them, the more alarmed he became.
“That was indeed when the residence received the news.”
No matter how tangled the pattern, there had to be some point from which all its threads began. Following those countless strands carefully, they eventually converged upon the same place. Li Congjia did not stop to consider whether the Crown Prince’s residence or the Emperor might have suppressed the news and delayed its release. He could think only of the fact that Li Hongji had died inexplicably almost immediately after he himself had been wounded at Phoenix Terrace.
Why?
Closing his eyes, he tried to remember where he had once heard of such a manner of death.
With a sudden jolt, one phrase burst from his lips.
“A red sandalwood cup?”
Finding where all the threads converged was not necessarily fortunate. Harmless Qinghuan wine, if drunk unknowingly from a red sandalwood cup, would become violently poisonous, immediately clouding the mind until it caused death.
He understood nothing of medicine himself. He had merely heard the physician explain it once before.
But ordinarily, no one would ever drink Qinghuan from a wooden cup. Why would Brother Hongji have thought to drink wine from a red sandalwood cup?
More importantly, everything about this plainly suggested that someone had deliberately set him up.
Who else knew the secret of Qingu?
His fingers clenched tightly into the bedding as the entire chain of cause and effect suddenly became clear to him. Ehuang came closer, worriedly checking on him.
“Congjia?”
Li Congjia did not turn toward her. Instead, he buried his face even deeper.
Who else knew?
And who else would have the courage to murder the Crown Prince of the dynasty?
Zhao Kuangyin.
Those three characters had never felt so unfamiliar.
Why? Because I failed to keep our appointment at Phoenix Terrace? Or was it merely your ambition at work? Zhao Kuangyin, you actually killed him. Was this what you meant when you said you had a way to get Zhao Guangyi out? You traded my own flesh-and-blood elder brother for your younger brother. What kind of bargain is that?
From beginning to end, I am still the only one who lost completely, left with nothing at all. And I… I actually…
All the troubles within and without crashed against Li Congjia’s heart at once. Overcome by rage and grief, he began coughing violently. Before Ehuang could even bring him tea, she saw his brows contract as though the final thread holding him together had suddenly snapped. He doubled over sharply, and before she could see clearly, a mouthful of fresh blood spilled onto the floor.
“Congjia!”
She screamed and rushed forward.
Blood stained the corner of his mouth, yet a mocking smile still curved his lips. His long hair had fallen loose, trailing all the way to the floor, while half his face was as bloodless as paper.
Fire burned fiercely within his double pupils.
He threw back his bloodstained face and laughed.
The rage that had appeared from nowhere was so intense that even Ehuang felt afraid. He truly was furious, yet she had no idea why.
Ehuang did not know how many stories lay hidden behind all this. He always buried matters of enormous consequence inside himself and refused to speak of them. Ordinarily, she did not ask and had no wish to interfere, but now he was already so weakened and was still recklessly tormenting himself.
The anger she had been suppressing nearly burst from her lips.
“Li Congjia, how many things are you still hiding in your heart and refusing to tell me?”
The man bent over the bed without answering.
She went directly to him and helped raise his upper body. Beneath her hands, his body felt frighteningly weak.
“Do you know you nearly died? Do you know what condition you’re in right now? Do you know that since the Crown Prince died the whole city has been thrown into turmoil? How can you still…”
He continued coughing, utterly drained.
Ehuang could clearly feel that wherever she touched him, his body was terrifyingly cold. When she noticed the blood still clinging to the corner of his mouth, regret immediately overwhelmed her.
Why was she losing her temper with him when he was in this condition?
Guilt and worry surged together inside her. Ehuang fell silent, but tears began falling again.
“Lie down properly and don’t move. It was my fault. I know there are things weighing on your heart. Don’t upset yourself. I’ll have someone bring your medicine.”
He could no longer speak anyway.
Ehuang opened the door and immediately saw Liuzhu, who had been standing guard outside after hearing the disturbance. The moment she learned that the Duke of Anding had become so agitated that he had coughed up blood, matters became even more serious.
In an instant, noise erupted everywhere.
Voices clamored outside.
For the first time, Li Congjia wanted desperately to cover his ears and hear nothing at all. He had encountered noise and bustling crowds countless times, yet never had they tormented him as much as they did in this moment.
His heart was in chaos.
Orders not to disturb him, instructions to keep watch over the medicine as it decocted, voices rising one after another.
There was actually nothing gravely wrong with him. He was merely weak, and his sudden agitation had caused his qi and blood to surge, making him cough blood. Yet once the servants saw it, it became an earth-shattering calamity.
Li Congjia almost wanted to order every one of them to shut their mouths.
This suffocating pressure was simply unbearable.
What meaning is there in all of this, being powerless and yet still forced to keep enduring? I never wanted to fight. I have already retreated everywhere I possibly could. But Brother Hongji, you knew me and still refused to believe me. And Zhao Kuangyin, you understand even better what I have always believed about human hearts and worldly bonds. I value the ties of flesh and blood. I value every life. Yet you killed him.
Why did you have to kill him? Even if I had truly met you at Phoenix Terrace, what could have happened? Your grand ambitions, your plans for mountains and rivers, would never have stopped for anyone.
You were right. Li Congjia is a madman. From that day beneath the tree, I misjudged you. Like a fool, I believed you really understood me. In the end, I did not lose to Brother Hongji. I lost to you. How laughable.
The wooden bracelet around his wrist swayed faintly.
Zhao Kuangyin, you wanted to see me continue living. Li Congjia keeps every promise he makes. I am not like you.
I will make certain you see Li Congjia remain alive. But Zhao Kuangyin, you will never touch me again. In the end, you are no different from Li Hongji. Because I did not go, you killed him. If a human life means so little to you, then I must mean just as little in your heart.
His head spun, and his chest felt blocked with sorrow.
He simply had never imagined things would come to this. He had even prepared himself to die at Li Hongji’s hands, yet never imagined that Zhao Kuangyin might kill him in a fit of rage.
He curled beneath the soft quilt. Pressing against the wound strangely made him feel a little better.
The tangled relationship between himself and Zhao Kuangyin left him utterly lost, yet he could tell no one.
Li Congjia kept his anger trapped inside, while also knowing that Zhao Kuangyin had been worried for his younger brother’s safety. The Crown Prince truly had gone too far. Given Zhao Kuangyin’s temperament, it would have been stranger if he had simply let matters rest.
His thoughts became increasingly childlike, countless threads tangling together again. He sulked, yet knew that perhaps Zhao Kuangyin too had been left with no choice.
As he gradually calmed, the rage filling his chest finally subsided.
In truth, Li Congjia still did not wish to blame him.
He could not allow the regret inside him to grow unchecked, afraid that one day it would suddenly break free and drag him into a place from which there was no return.
If I had met you that night, would I not be hurting this much now?
If I had seen what you intended to do, could I have stopped you?
Counting the days, he should already be crossing the river.
From now on, one beneath the southern sky and one beneath the northern, each dwelling in his own corner of the world.
Who knew whether they would ever meet again?
Then let this bracelet serve as a keepsake.
Their encounter could only be a trace left by a wild goose passing through the sky.
He would try to remember the blossoms he had passed along the way.
Yet when the tumi flowers bloom, the season of flowers has already reached its end.
Once something had passed, it had passed.
Grass and trees could at least wait for the spring wind to make them green again.
Human affairs and human hearts could never put forth new branches once more.
With a sigh, Li Congjia leaned back and closed his eyes.
He could not sleep.
Instead, he remembered that the matter of A-Shui had yet to be dealt with and wondered what the people in the residence had done with him.
When he began to feel somewhat better, he summoned Piaopeng and asked.
Piaopeng told him that Madam had ordered A-Shui temporarily confined inside a room, with strict instructions that, because the Duke of Anding had forbidden it, no one was to make things difficult for him.
“But Master, he injured you this badly. How can you simply let the matter go?”
Li Congjia smiled and shook his head.
It was true that A-Shui’s blade that night had not taken his life, but if word of it escaped, it would be more than enough to take A-Shui’s.
Attempted assassination of the Duke of Anding?
That was no laughing matter.
Yet inwardly, Li Congjia admired A-Shui.
To be driven by love into hatred and to go this far for Hongxiu was enough to prove the sincerity of his feelings.
Li Congjia yearned for such wholehearted, reckless devotion.
No matter what else might be said of it, at least a person could see straight to its depths in a single glance.
If A-Shui loved someone, then he simply loved them.
There was no concealment and no labyrinth of twists and turns.
Such ordinary yet genuine affection was far more enviable than anything found in Li Congjia’s own world.
“Absolutely no one can learn that I was injured. Above all, word that A-Shui was the attacker must not spread.”
“Master… we tried telling him there was a misunderstanding, but he was like a madman. He wouldn’t listen to anything. He kept shouting that you… that you… had to pay with your life and other such nonsense…”
Piaopeng knew the Duke of Anding’s temperament perfectly well.
Madam had already said that if the Duke awoke and discovered something had happened to A-Shui, then even if the knife wound itself caused no trouble, he would probably make himself ill with anger.
So they had followed his wishes and left A-Shui unharmed.
“There was indeed a misunderstanding in this matter, and I bear some responsibility as well. Keep him confined for now and do not allow him to wander about. Once I am better, I still want to see him.”
Having given his instructions, Li Congjia dismissed him.
Several days later, after the wound had improved, Li Congjia gradually became able to get out of bed and walk.
One of the guest rooms on the shaded side of the residence was guarded.
A-Shui had already been confined there for several days.
At first, his eyes had shone with the exhilaration of having taken revenge. Hearing the commotion of people coming and going outside the residence, he had waited only for news of the Duke of Anding’s death so that he might finally have the face to follow Hongxiu into death.
Who could have imagined that he would later hear the Duke was still alive?
A-Shui collapsed into complete despair.
His blade had failed to take the man’s life.
After causing such an uproar, surely he would have to pay with his own life.
A-Shui sat at the table staring at the meals delivered to him each day.
Apparently, they had no intention of killing him anytime soon.
The affected pretenses of these powerful households were truly disgusting.
It was only one life.
After keeping him locked away for so many days, why could they not simply tell him whether he was to live or die?
Being tormented like this day after day only deepened his guilt.
Back then, he should never have let Hong’er leave.
He had allowed a thirteen-year-old girl to go out alone, pouring wine and selling smiles to survive.
It was all because of his own uselessness.
But that year, he too had only been a boy in his teens.
How could he have known where the road ahead would lead?
He had devoted himself to the books of the sages, believing that someday he would earn rank and distinction and give her a good life.
Yet how could someone from Green Willow Lane ever gain another person’s recognition?
Officials shielded one another; connections and reputation governed everything.
Very few people could rise to the heavens in a single step, and why would fortune ever fall upon him?
Studying did not necessarily earn a person anything.
Besides, others had long mocked him as hopelessly pedantic, incapable of ingratiating himself with anyone and therefore incapable of climbing higher.
Step by step, he had fallen until he needed Hongxiu herself to support him.
Until that day, when he had watched with his own eyes as Hongxiu was lowered beneath a mound of yellow earth, leaving him with nothing more to hope for.
A human life was worth so little.
Even an imperial relative and noble prince might die suddenly in the space of a single day.
Who would ever know the suffering of insignificant commoners like them?
A-Shui did not want to blame fate.
He still possessed his own pride.
He had always imagined that one day he would properly and honorably marry Hong’er, that she would never again have to wander and never again have to suffer.
An utterly ordinary hairpin had returned to his hands, and no matter how much he wiped it, it could never be cleaned.
It was stained with all her despair, all her lifeblood.
A-Shui slammed his fist onto the table.
He had watched Li Congjia holding her corpse with his own eyes.
Every part of it was a knife, slicing his heart apart day after day and denying him any peace.
Once, after happening to cross paths with the Duke of Anding on the street, he had even believed that perhaps this nobleman was different from the others.
What a fool he had been.
What sort of person was the Duke of Anding?
The Emperor’s sixth son, noble from birth.
And he himself was merely an insignificant commoner of Green Willow Lane.
Had he truly believed such a man might ever promise him anything?
It had been nothing more than a fool’s dream.
His mind hovered on the verge of collapse.
Hong’er was dead.
What use was there in his continuing to live?