Elio’s Notes: The title comes from Bai Juyi’s poem Qixi: “In the smoky heavens, a faint moon pales the vast sky; the Milky Way’s autumn tryst has been the same through all ages.” The poem gathers joy and separation into the same Qixi night.
Jinling lay desolate through the night. In the smoky heavens, a faint moon paled the vast sky; the Milky Way’s autumn tryst had been the same through all ages.
On Qixi, which was also the ruler’s birthday, palace attendants brought out a thousand bolts of gauze and exquisite gold and jade, only for Li Yu to forbid every celebration. He still kept himself shut inside the Buddhist hall and would not emerge. The palace was ordered to treat the day as ordinary. In the lanes beyond its walls, however, the people could not resist the festival. Qiqiao customs went on as before, and lanterns drifted along the Qinhuai River.
At the very moment Zhao Kuangyin’s sword split the air north of the river, Li Yu stood alone beside a window in the Buddhist hall. The night breeze lifted his hair as, dressed in white, he habitually rubbed the scar across his wrist. It had stopped hurting long ago, yet the mark would not fade. Far on the horizon, five-colored fireworks burst into bloom, probably released from the riverbank. Li Yu did not know that while he watched from Jiangnan, someone north of the river was looking at the same sky.
Once, they too had watched the same passing cloud of smoke. A blue-green lantern stained with dust drifted uncertainly, then at last sank beneath the water.
＊
The Milky Way blazed tonight, but clouds suddenly rolled across it. The night when the magpies were said to bridge Heaven was also the date on which his own mortal ordeal had begun. Li Yu smiled and, just as Zhao Kuangyin had, remembered words he himself had once spoken. Back then he had wanted only to find a way out for Li Hongji. If he truly had drunk the poisoned wine and let go of life, today would have become the day that sword-browed man burned incense in remembrance of him.
Perhaps that would not have been so bad. At least Zhao Kuangyin would have remembered only the splendid shell he had worn in his flourishing youth, instead of watching that soul of mist and rain shatter.
A cold Milky Way stretched between them. This body here, that shore there.
As the man on the Jingzhou riverbank raised his sword and swore to seize Jiangnan, Li Yu reached out and shut the window. Layers of black gauze inside the hall instantly lost what little light they had, deepening the gloom. He walked slowly through the hanging curtains until a palace attendant’s soft voice came from outside. “Your Majesty, Nüying requests an audience.”
Li Yu returned to the bright-yellow prayer cushion without ordering anyone to enter. Silence held for a long while before he finally spoke. “Pass down Our decree. Choose the Mid-Autumn Festival for the investiture ceremony of the new Empress.”
Outside, Nüying softly called, “Your Majesty.” Li Yu answered only, “Go back.”
Dead silence returned.
After kneeling so long that he no longer knew the hour, Li Yu rose, smoothed his sleeves, and went to the table in the corner to drink tea. The Shaocao pipa lay there beneath a musical score, the Rainbow Skirt and Feathered Robe Dance Ehuang had left behind. He had never again allowed anyone else to touch it.
Elio’s Notes: Shaocao (烧槽) is the historical name recorded for the prized pipa given to Ehuang. Traditional accounts connect the name to the “scorched paulownia” instrument legend associated with Cai Yong.
“Today… is Qixi.” Li Yu sighed and brushed his fingertips over the pipa’s gold-and-jade peony head. “In years past, whenever Qixi came, you and I would lay a magpie bridge of gauze and brocade through the Duke of Anding’s Residence. I wonder whether there truly is a Milky Way suspended in Heaven tonight, with magpies forming a bridge across it?” His palm rested over the jade for a long time, yet it remained cold. Li Yu paused, then smiled with bitter sorrow. “Ehuang, look… in the end, I cannot even warm a piece of jade.”
He remembered her final words with painful clarity. She had spoken neither of farewell nor another life, neither love nor hatred. At the last moment, she had simply told him one fact neither of them could choose: Your hand is very cold.
Too cold to hold.
And she had been a phoenix bathed in fire, yet even she could not set his soul alight.
He lifted the pipa she had left behind and plucked the strings softly. He had needed to hear Ehuang’s heaven-shaking performance only once to remember it forever. Closing his eyes, Li Yu let those notes, now quick, now slow, spill brokenly from beneath his fingers.
The Buddhist hall was remote and silent. At night there was no warmth except candlefire, and Li Yu had always been cold by nature. Lately grief had knotted in his chest until he coughed blood. On the seventh day of the seventh month in Jiangnan, he shivered with cold. There was no one else in the depths of the palace, and beneath his fingers the Rainbow Skirt and Feathered Robe took on a bleak, desolate grief. His double pupils remained still and fathomless. He wore white, and blood stained the corner of his mouth.
He could not endure it after all. Letting the strings fall silent, he wiped away the blood himself and drank warm tea to suppress the surge in his chest. Even as the metallic sweetness clogged his throat, Li Yu suddenly laughed with startling ease and spoke toward the shadowed gauze. “If I died here now, perhaps no one would even know…” How ridiculous. Hadn’t they said he was the legendary Li Chongguang?
But why should he die? He carried too many people’s hearts upon him. One qin string from Li Hongji. One dance to Qinghuan from Hongxiu. One Rainbow Skirt and Feathered Robe from Ehuang. A lifetime of hope from his father. And then…
And then there were the three thousand li of Jiangnan’s mountains and rivers that man had spoken of.
He would have to endure them all, mouthful of blood by mouthful of blood, until every debt was repaid.
Li Yu forced down the churning in his chest and gradually grew calm. Both hands closed tightly around his teacup, drawing from it the only scrap of warmth he could find.
Today was Qixi. His birthday.
＊
On the day Zhao Kuangyin’s party returned to Bianjing, an official memorial arrived from Jiangnan announcing that the new Empress would be invested on the fifteenth day of the eighth month, the Mid-Autumn Festival. Zhao Kuangyin carried Li Yu’s answer into the palace, and by then all his anger had hardened into cold laughter. He threw the memorial onto the desk, turned, and issued an edict of his own: on that same fifteenth day of the eighth month, that beautiful night when people said the moon was full and families reunited, Wang Yunjie would be invested as Empress.
I truly never saw that you, Li Congjia, had this much resolve. You betrayed me again and again, refused to come north of the river, and now you have even rushed to install a new Empress on purpose. What an excellent result.
Then do not blame me for showing no mercy. Zhao Kuangyin summoned the Prince of Jin to the palace. His senior ministers came as well, and together they discussed Jiangnan.
Everyone immediately understood the Emperor’s intention. The balance among the powers had begun to shift; once it broke, Jiangnan could no longer be allowed to remain secure in its corner.
Meanwhile,
at the Prince of Jin’s residence, Zhao Guangyi received something secretly sent back from Jingzhou. Layer after layer of oiled paper was opened to reveal a paper lantern ruined by water.
His trusted subordinate Wang Fu stood beside him and frowned at the sight. “Your Highness, this is…” The Prince of Jin had waited many days for this object, yet what had finally arrived was nothing more than an utterly ordinary paper lantern. Wang Fu could not understand its significance.
Zhao Guangyi, however, smiled in a way that gave nothing away. He lifted the lantern and examined it carefully against the daylight. “Can you tell what this is?”
Wang Fu lowered his head. “A few days ago was Qixi. I would guess it is one of the lanterns ordinary people release for the festival.”
Zhao Guangyi nodded. “Exactly.”
“A lantern? Your Highness waited all these days, and Jingzhou sent back only a lantern?”
Zhao Guangyi’s gaze settled on the blurred ink. His voice carried a trace of amusement. “Look here. The riverwater soaked it, but the writing is still visible. What does it say?”
Wang Fu hurriedly bent down for a closer look. His expression changed at once. “Li… Congjia?”
“Shh. That name cannot be spoken so casually anymore.”
Wang Fu immediately fell silent, then frowned again. “But what is written on this lantern truly is the old name of the ruler of Jiangnan. Then this…”
Zhao Guangyi looked up, his eyes suddenly sharp. “So tell me. In this day and age, who can still write that name directly without the slightest concern?”
Wang Fu had no answer. After a long silence, he lowered his voice fearfully. “This lantern belonged to His Majesty?”
“That is why I waited. I wanted to see what could possibly make him insist on going to Jingzhou himself. As expected, it was still Li Congjia.”
“But that Han Xizai did not know what was good for him. He returned to Jiangnan and killed himself. You would think he should have reported the truth to his ruler so that Li Yu would go to Jingzhou in person.”
Zhao Guangyi loosened his fingers and let the lantern fall onto the desk. After thinking for a moment, he spoke again. “I detained Han Xizai for three days and forced him to take poison only so that he would return to Jiangnan and falsely report the imperial will. That would keep Li Yu from going personally to reward our army at Jingzhou, and Imperial Brother would inevitably be furious. Once the matter succeeded, I intended to have someone give Han the antidote. Who could have known he would go back to Jiangnan and kill himself? I thought him foolishly loyal to the end. Yet Jingzhou had already reported the situation, and Li Yu still did not go.” Zhao Guangyi paused, fingers tapping the wooden armrest. “So Han still never told him the truth. But it was not because I frightened him into silence. Han Xizai had reasons of his own. He chose death to prove his loyalty, and also to tell me that he did not die because he was afraid.”
Wang Fu shook his head. “Han Xizai was truly a madman.”
At those words, Zhao Guangyi abruptly lifted his head and looked Wang Fu over. “Every man has his own purpose. Lord Wang has his own obsession as well. Han Xizai’s choice has made me begin to admire him.”
Wang Fu did not respond. “The Military Governor’s great vengeance remains unavenged. Wang Fu will never forget it in this lifetime.” He had once served under Wang Rao, who had shown him kindness. After Zhao Kuangyin came to power through the mutiny at Chen Bridge and the factions struggled back and forth, Wang Fu eventually attached himself to the Prince of Jin’s residence. Men like him knew that the Prince of Jin’s relationship with the Emperor was not as close as it appeared. When the Prince began gathering Wang Rao’s former retainers, he had said plainly that Zhao Kuangyin could not be separated from Wang Rao’s death.
Zhao Guangyi suddenly smiled again. “Lord Wang may rest easy. Had the Military Governor not saved me through his great kindness back then, I would probably still be trapped in the Southern kingdom. As for his affair, we need only wait for the right moment…” Only a little longer. Both Zhao Guangyi and Wang Fu understood perfectly: the Prince of Jin had aims of his own, while the Wang faction sought revenge. Each side wanted something from the other.
Zhao Guangyi looked back at the lantern. “This is indeed Imperial Brother’s handwriting. I recognize it. Since the lantern could still be sent to the Prince of Jin’s residence, the person named upon it clearly never received it. Which means… Imperial Brother’s journey ended without what he wanted.”
Wang Fu agreed. “Your Highness is exactly right.”
Zhao Guangyi glanced at the sky. It was already past noon. “If I have guessed correctly, before long someone should summon me to the palace…” Before he even finished, a man hurried into the study to report, “His Majesty urgently summons the Prince of Jin for a private council.”
Zhao Guangyi acknowledged him with a wave. Wang Fu smiled, bowed, and withdrew.
＊
Just before leaving, Zhao Guangyi glanced again at the lantern on the desk. It had never been very clean, its blue-green paper stained with dust. So this truly is a color worth longing for. He himself had seen it once. An old scene rose vividly before his eyes: that night beneath Phoenix Terrace, a figure of incomparable grace had lifted one elegant wrist to sweep his hair behind his shoulder. Even a lonely lamp on a barren mountain had been unable to dim that refined beauty. A single view of his back had been enough to carve itself into memory. Zhao Guangyi found himself wondering what such a person’s face truly looked like. No wonder Imperial Brother could still insist on going to Jingzhou himself. Zhao Guangyi turned, lit a candle, and brought the blue-green lantern close to the flame. Soaked through and then dried again, the paper had become brittle. The tongue of flame caught quickly and consumed it.
The wooden bracelet at his wrist shifted. Imperial Brother’s matching one had vanished long ago. Zhao Guangyi watched coldly as the three characters Li Congjia curled in the fire and became gray ash. He exhaled slowly. “This lantern carries far more weight than two bracelets. So… do not blame me either.”
Foolish child, do not blame me. Big Brother was the one who abandoned this bond first. When you were dying, you gave me the bracelet. I have been Zhao Guangyi for so many years and have never betrayed that gift. Now only the one around my own wrist remains. Do not blame me for finally having a heart of my own.
Zhao Guangyi. Who is that? I will take myself back as well.
The lantern burned to nothing. He swept his sleeve and left.
＊
On the road to the palace, Zhao Guangyi heard the news: on the fifteenth day of the eighth month, Yunjie would be invested as Empress. He reined in his horse sharply. He had worried about this day for so long, and Big Brother still refused to let Yunjie go.
A dull pain suddenly twisted through his old abdominal wound. Zhao Guangyi clutched his stomach until he steadied himself. The sword blow he had blocked on the night of Chen Bridge had been too dangerous. The injury had not been severe, yet it still flared from time to time and disturbed his sleep and appetite. Zhao Guangyi frowned tightly. Excuses. All of it is excuses. Because that lantern failed to reach the person it was meant for, does that give you the right to hand someone else away as you please?
You torment her. I swear I will make you regret it.
All night, the palace at Bianjing burned with lamplight. No one knew what had happened during the Emperor’s journey to Jingzhou that made him finally turn the spearpoint directly toward Jiangnan. His earlier restraint had disappeared. The conquest of Jiangnan was now formally placed on the agenda.
Near dawn, everyone withdrew except the Prince of Jin, who remained behind to speak privately with the Emperor.
“Guangyi, are you truly determined to take such a risk?”
There was no one else around them. Zhao Guangyi sat beside his elder brother and nodded. “Guangyi lived in Jiangnan for more than ten years. The Li royal house has ruled for three generations. They may not have achieved anything extraordinary, but they have won the people’s loyalty. If Imperial Brother marches south by force, you will inevitably lose popular support. To coordinate from within and without, we must first deceive their ruler. I hear the ruler of Jiangnan has lately become absorbed in scripture and Buddhist rites. That gives Guangyi an excellent opportunity. I know the land and customs of the Southern kingdom, and there is even less need to speak of my familiarity with monastic affairs. Besides, this matter is far too secret to entrust to anyone else.”
Zhao Kuangyin weighed the matter repeatedly before finally nodding his approval. “When do you intend to leave?”
A dull pain suddenly struck Zhao Guangyi’s abdomen. He covered it awkwardly and frowned as he endured it. “…After I attend Imperial Brother’s wedding ceremony on the fifteenth day of the eighth month, I will set out.” He had to force out the words; his old wound was clearly acting up again.
Zhao Kuangyin hurriedly rose and came to examine him. “Guangyi? If the old wound has not healed, why have you said nothing? Last time I sent an imperial physician to the Prince of Jin’s residence, you would not even let him in.”
“Guangyi is fine.”
Zhao Kuangyin sighed. Seeing that Guangyi still held his abdomen and could not relax, guilt stirred inside him. He turned and poured him a cup of warm tea. Then, remembering that they had spent the entire night discussing military affairs, he asked, “How have you been eating?”
“Soft, warm food is enough. The physician said that as long as I avoid cold and hard foods, there is nothing serious.”
Zhao Kuangyin went out and ordered someone to bring hot congee, specifically telling them to make it plain. The Emperor had never cared for elaborate dishes. His meals, like the rest of his habits, were usually simple rather than luxurious. The palace servants therefore brought only a bowl of plain osmanthus congee.
It had been cooked until exquisitely smooth. Warm fragrance instantly filled the room, and both men’s expressions eased. Zhao Guangyi could not help smiling. “Imperial Brother, there is no need to fuss like this.”
Zhao Kuangyin, however, was in excellent spirits. Holding the bowl and seeing Zhao Guangyi frown from pain, he seemed to return to their childhood. “Do you remember? Whenever you fell ill as a child, you would lie in bed with a miserable face and call for your big brother.” Zhao Guangyi’s smile stiffened for an instant, then returned to normal. “Yes… Guangyi was far too useless back then…”
Zhao Kuangyin held the bowl before him. “Does it still hurt? Have some hot congee to warm your stomach.” Zhao Guangyi clearly saw the concern in his brother’s eyes. After a long while he exhaled and slowly shook his head. “Much better.”
Zhao Kuangyin scooped up a spoonful and blew gently on it, speaking as casually as though nothing were unusual. “There used to be an osmanthus grove on the hill behind our home. Mother made the best osmanthus congee. In the years afterward, when I was wandering from place to place, I often thought of it.” Without making anything of the gesture, he naturally brought the spoon to Guangyi’s lips. For a moment Zhao Guangyi stared in surprise. The room was filled with the fragrance of congee and the faint scent of osmanthus, warm and peaceful enough to draw him in despite himself. Since the catastrophic flood of his childhood, he had almost forgotten what ordinary human tenderness felt like. Before him, Big Brother’s sword-like brows had relaxed. He was genuinely worried about him.
Zhao Guangyi opened his mouth and swallowed the congee.
Today, the military commander’s sons who once laughed and roughhoused together had long since become an Emperor and a prince. Yet the Emperor still fed his younger brother one spoonful at a time. Guangyi let himself accept the care. “Guangyi remembers. Mother’s congee really was delicious. What the palace makes may be finer, but it still cannot compare with the taste of home.”
Zhao Kuangyin’s hand paused around the bowl. Then he scooped up another spoonful and fed it to him. “Feeling better now?”
Zhao Guangyi smiled and nodded.
＊
By the time the bowl was empty, Zhao Guangyi had become reluctant to let the moment end, but some things still had to be said. “Big Brother, Yunjie… how has she been lately? Guangyi remembers that she still had a knot in her heart before and was unwilling to accept the marriage. This investiture… forgive Guangyi for speaking plainly, but is it not forcing her too far?”
Zhao Kuangyin set the empty bowl on the table and did not answer. “The matter is settled.”
The warmth of osmanthus still lingered between Zhao Guangyi’s lips and teeth. Remembering the tracks of Yunjie’s tears, he quietly firmed his resolve. “Big Brother, Miss Yunjie once happened to ask Guangyi to explain scripture to her in the Buddhist hall. One might say she has some affinity with Buddhism. The Buddha is compassionate. Her heart is still unresolved. May Guangyi go see her today? If she remains troubled, perhaps I can offer a word or two of counsel.”
Zhao Kuangyin agreed. After a pause he said, “The truth is, Big Brother is worried too. Go see her.”
＊
When Zhao Guangyi saw Yunjie again, she had grown thinner. She had obviously learned of the investiture; her eyes were swollen despite clear attempts to conceal it. At the sight of the Prince of Jin she bowed, but Zhao Guangyi waved the ceremony away. “Yunjie, it has been so long, and still you are like this…” He studied her. Her gentle features were unchanged. “Why is it that every time I see you, you are grieving?”
Ling’er’s temper had not improved. She blurted out, “Miss cried for half the night…”
“Ling’er, go outside.”
The young maid could only fall silent and withdraw. Now that Zhao Guangyi was truly standing before Yunjie, he found himself unsure what else he could say. They looked at each other for a while before Yunjie finally spoke first. “Your Highness came here… at His Majesty’s command?”
“I came because I wanted to see you. I knew you still could not let this go.”
Yunjie shook her head. “It is not really a question of letting go. I have embarrassed myself before Your Highness.” She had only just finished washing and dressing. Her long hair was gathered into a simple cloud bun with almost no adornment. Zhao Guangyi’s gaze fell on the plain wooden hairpin set against her muted clothing, making her look even thinner. “Life in the palace is not as easy as people imagine.” He found a place to sit and sighed. Yunjie seemed calmer than he had expected. Glancing toward the dressing mirror at her own face, she said, “Just now… I really had been crying. But after Mother came and scolded me, I understood some things instead.”
“What did your mother say this time?”
“His Majesty has his reasons. Father was appointed military governor over a region and inevitably made enemies over the years. That is only natural. If Mother and I were to leave the palace now, our safety could not be guaranteed. And I am the daughter of a condemned minister from the previous court. How could I live alone in the palace indefinitely? He… can only protect Mother and me for the long term by doing this.”
After listening, Zhao Guangyi smiled, but something changed in his eyes. “So after weighing every advantage and disadvantage, Miss Yunjie has made her choice?” She looked deeply at him for a long time, then suddenly said, “He has changed very much. I never imagined Your Highness would also become unlike the man you once were. This deep imperial palace truly is not a place one should enter.”
Zhao Guangyi was about to answer when Ling’er’s voice sounded outside. “Your Highness, Madam has come to see Miss.”
Yunjie was puzzled. Her mother’s health had worsened lately, and she had only just visited. What could have happened now? Zhao Guangyi rose and ordered them to let her in. One glance showed Madam Wang’s waxen complexion; she had plainly forced herself to come, and her fingers still trembled. Seeing Zhao Guangyi, she paused, then bent to bow. Naturally he excused her from the ceremony. “Has an imperial physician examined Madam?”
“This old illness has followed me too long. I fear I have only a few days left. I would not dare trouble His Majesty or Your Highness…” After several polite exchanges, Madam Wang suddenly looked at Yunjie. “I only wanted to see this girl one more day. The fifteenth of the eighth month is her auspicious date. Counting the days, there is barely more than a month. If I can only last until then, I will have nothing left to worry about.” As she spoke, grief filled her face and she began to cough.
At the mention of the date, Zhao Guangyi’s gaze darkened. He was about to turn the conversation elsewhere when Madam Wang kept her eyes fixed on Yunjie and spoke only of the marriage. “His Majesty’s grace is boundless. He is benevolent and mindful of old affection. After all…” She had spoken too urgently and could no longer sustain herself. Ling’er hurried to support her and looked toward Zhao Guangyi. Zhao Guangyi stood alone inside the room without replying. Madam Wang could only force herself to continue from the doorway. “After all, in the old days His Majesty and Yunjie did share a deep affection…”
“Madam should not stand in a draft in your condition. Miss Yunjie seems calmer now. Your health worries me more. Ling’er, help Madam back to rest. I will report to Imperial Brother later and ask that an imperial physician come every day.”
Madam Wang fell silent. Her cracked lips still seemed to want to say something, but at last she only looked at Yunjie and turned away. Zhao Guangyi smiled. “Yunjie, your mother truly exhausts herself worrying about you.” Yunjie looked embarrassed. “Mother is simply afraid that the two of us will be mistreated… Your Highness, please do not take offense.” As she spoke, her gaze casually fell on Zhao Guangyi. His rank and position were utterly different from before, yet the old wooden bracelet was still around his wrist. In the morning light Yunjie once again saw the broken groove running across it. “That bracelet truly is the one I once cut.”
Zhao Guangyi did not answer. Seeing that morning had fully broken outside, he turned toward the wooden door. “I should go. Yunjie…”
Yunjie waited quietly for him to finish, but Zhao Guangyi suddenly turned and approached her one step at a time. “Since you already understand what Heaven has allotted, do not cry anymore.” Yunjie nodded. As he came closer she drew back two steps in surprise. Zhao Guangyi smiled. “On the fifteenth day of the eighth month, the moon is always full.” Suddenly he lifted a hand and removed the wooden hairpin from her hair. It was the simplest possible style, without even a carved pattern.
Yunjie’s long hair spilled down. “Your Highness?”
“One month from now, you will be Empress. You will have little use for wooden hairpins like this then. Why not give it to me?” For the first time, his tone carried an unquestionable firmness. His features had never possessed Zhao Kuangyin’s hard, sword-cut angles, but at that moment they gained an unfamiliar sharpness. Yunjie stared blankly as he walked out holding the wooden pin, then suddenly called after him.
“Zhao Guangyi.”
With his back to Yunjie, he kept walking. A smile slowly appeared on his face, but his steps never stopped. For the first time, she had called him by name. Not “my lord.” Not “Your Highness.”
But Zhao Guangyi could no longer stop.
Besides, even this name was never mine alone.
＊
Elio’s Notes: The closing passage quotes the Sutra in Forty-Two Sections. It compares a mind clouded by desire to clear water stirred muddy: when desire is relinquished and the water settles, the Way can be seen again. Here it lands pointedly after Zhao Guangyi takes Yunjie’s hairpin.
Who had once recited for whom: “Those who harbor love and desire cannot see the Way. It is like clear water stirred by a hand: though people gather around it, none can see their reflection. Desire intermingles within a person, raising turbidity in the heart, and so the Way cannot be seen. You monks should cast off love and desire. When the defilement of desire is exhausted, the Way may be seen.”